#’well this thing is expired what should I do?’ fucking throw it out

[kweenkatsuki-main]

I asked my husband to make lunch and at this point I should’ve just gotten up and made it myself cuz why is this so fucking difficult for him?

[azsazz]

Dead by Dawn (Part 17)

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings: Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, poly!relationship, slow burn, undead, death,

Word Count: 3058

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16)

Notes: heyyyy what do you know, i found it in me to get this part out. im proud.

_________________________________________

Day 195 Part 3

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You never been one to throw caution to the wind, but with what sits before you, the urge is strong.

Animals were one of the first things to go when disease swept across the world, which is why it’s so difficult not to pick up the juicy chicken breast that’s steaming on the plate in front of you, and completely ravage it.

Your mouth waters at the sight. There are greens, too. A blend of spinach and vegetables cooked to perfection in animal fat. It’s the first real meal you’ve seen in…fuck you don’t even know how long it’s been since you’ve seen real meat like this, nor food that wasn’t expired and from a can.

The only thing keeping your restraint in place is your companions' determination. The sprinkle of common sense that hasn’t fizzled into a ravenous beast at the scent of your meal is easy to overlook, but Azriel’s menacing presence beside you isn’t. His back is ramrod straight in his own seat, and the food doesn’t seem to be affecting him in the slightest. He’s undeterred by their taunts. Instead, his woody eyes drink in your surroundings for the umpteenth time, as if there might be a hint as to what’s really going on here. 

On your other side, you’re flanked by Cassian, who does look like he’s struggling to keep himself from sinking his teeth into the juicy thigh on his plate, however little it might be. It’s more than he’s had to eat in days, months, and he wants it so fucking badly.

In fact, no one’s touching their food, which is a red flag of itself, but your head is swimming at the smells, your stomach a mess of knots that loosen at the idea of food, and tighten at the thought of where your best friend could be.

You’re also a little afraid, if you’re being honest, of getting sick should you eat something this…real after having gone so long without.

Nesta watches you from across the table with a piercing stare. There’s a malice you’ve become accustomed to being fed in the little time you’ve known her. You understand that she’s worried for her sister, out there with little protection, but you’re worried too. You feel as if Feyre is your sister as well. You’ve been winning your own little war against the undead for too long to remember.

At her side is who you can only decern to be her lover, Eris. You ponder their relationship, what you saw in the woods. Perhaps they’re nothing more than companions, but with the way the auburn-haired man keeps stealing glances at her, worry etched in his brow, you know there must be more.

The chair beside Eris is filled with a near clone of him. They have twin eyes and looks of caution on their fox-shaped faces. The unnamed man wears his hair long down his back, a single braid hangs down the side of his face. It’s not a nice one, practiced, but messy, like whoever put it there was distracted more often than not during styling. The only differentiator is the color of their skin, because even the shape of their eyes and their stature is eerily similar. It’s clear that they are nothing like their scumbag of a father, and the thought of Beron alone makes you shiver in your seat.

There’s an empty seat beside him, and you can’t help the stab of guilt you feel at the sight of it. You don’t know if they’ve lost someone important to their little unit they have going on here, or if there’s a reason for the unoccupied seat.

Cassian’s stomach growls loudly, breaking the terse silence. 

“Everything is safe to eat, I can assure you,” Eris mentions after clearing his throat. Nesta shoots him a look that could make even a zombie cower, but he must be used to it because he takes the betraying look with grace, gently settling a palm onto her lap.

Nesta doesn’t shove it away like you expect her to. Instead, her lips go razor thin. The pair stare at each other so intensely that you feel like you’re intruding on something monumental.

Eventually, Nesta breaks. With a sharp inhalation, she turns her gaze to you. She doesn’t look happy, but at least she doesn’t look like she wants to reach across the table and maul you for losing her sister.

“Eat,” she all but demands. She cringes, grits her teeth, and adds like the words are truly poison in her mouth, “Please.”

“You’ll excuse us if we don’t trust you,” Azriel replies curtly. Your eyes soften as they land on him, even if his gaze is trained on your hosts. Weeks ago, he’d been wary of you, and now he’s here protecting you from the outsiders that are holding you captive.

You’ve never been so thankful for him, and you remind yourself to thank him for it later.

“Don’t eat, then.” Nesta shrugs as if his words don’t bother her in the slightest. Your whereabouts of Feyre seem to have caught her off guard because right now she is the perfect poise of excellence. Her nature could give any queen a run for their crown.

She’s the first one to dig into her meal. She uses the cutlery as if they’re weapons, tearing into the meat with a force that has you praying to any higher being that Feyre and Rhys are on their way to you, because you do not want to be on the other end of Nesta’s knife.

Your eyes flicker back down to your plate, to the shiny silverware placed on either side of your plate. Hell, you’re not even sure you remember how to use them anymore, with how long you’ve had to make do on the road.

“Please, eat,” Eris counters with a stern look that doesn’t affect Nesta in the slightest. Eris motions to his brother and they both pick up their forks, as if trying to show you everything is okay.

“I don’t trust the animals, either,” Azriel responds.

“How about the vegetables, then?” Eris offers, and you think you catch a glint of pleading in his amber eyes. You think he’s trying to keep things civil and calm for Nesta’s sake. You’re sure she’s worried to pieces about her littlest sister out there when the sun is so close to hiding away for another night of hell. “The animals are perfectly healthy, though I assure you the food will not go to waste if you don’t eat it.”

“How are they safe?” Cassian questions, grimacing down at the meat. You know that he out of everyone in your little group needs it the most. You’ve seen his protruding ribs only yesterday, and with him being the biggest in your group, he needs the nutrients more than anyone.

A sudden urge of protectiveness washes over you. You want him safe and healthy, want both him and Azriel safe and happy, and you wish more than anything that you could give it to them.

Only time will tell.

Eris gives a very diplomatic response. “My family has owned this land for generations,” he starts, and you don’t like to think of how he is Beron’s son. It makes all of the desperation to eat, subside. “We have been raising and breeding our own meat and dairy for just as long. They have never showed signs of disease, but perhaps it’s because they live a life unknowing of what goes on in this world.” You’re not following, but Eris continues before your confusion causes you to blurt out questions.

“My brother—Lucien,” he nods toward his brother beside him. “Takes care of them. When our father first heard the mumblings of a pandemic so devastating, the world as we knew it would never be the same, he built a bunker of sorts, where we continue to monitor and raise our animals to this day.”

“That was about the only smart thing he ever did,” Lucien mumbles, looking green at the mention of his father.

You get the feeling.

Azriel says, “Yeah, we’ve had the unfortunate displeasure of meeting the bastard.”

Lucien’s utensils fall to the table with a clang that startles you in your seat. He looks sick to his stomach, his ying-yang eyes drawn down to his plate in shame. His shoulders are stiff and he’s gone so still you think he might be comatose, turning into a zombie right in front of your very eyes.

“You’ve met him?” Lucien asks, and he sounds like a little boy, reliving a trauma so ghastly that it’s altered his brain chemistry.

“Met him, killed him,” Azriel shrugs as if it was no big feat. Your stomach roils at the memory and you must look paler than normal because Cassian’s placing a. warm hand over yours in comfort. Azriel’s brashness isn’t new to you, but the reminder is too fresh. You try to focus on your hand in Cassian’s, offering him a weak smile.

The tension in the air seems to disperse with Azriel’s words. You’re pretty sure you see Lucien’s shoulders physically drop in relief, like he feels the same way you do about his father. Eris sits in his seat, stunned, but he doesn’t look upset about the news, he looks more disappointed, like he missed out on being the one to kill the crazy cannibal.

“Well, I think this calls for the good wine,” Nesta says, and you swear you see the corners of her mouth threaten to tug into a satisfied smirk.

She glances at you from across the table, and you pick up your fork.

You hope that this is the first of many things that you will agree with her on.

There is little conversation while you eat. Azriel’s brows are drawn in tight, and his mouth is set in a hard line. He keeps glancing over at you with a scolding heat in his eyes, but there’s a sliver of worry that makes you ache, like he thinks you might keel over from the chicken.

If you do, you’re not even sure you’ll be mad. It’s good fucking chicken.

You try to savor it, to eat slowly so that your body doesn’t reject the first real meal you’ve had in forever, but you can hardly control yourself. You feel like a rabid animal, hungry enough to gnaw your own arm off. You wonder if this is what the zombies outside feel like, an insatiable hunger, or if they’re so mindless they don’t feel anything at all.

You reckon you have only minutes before the food makes its reappearance, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when you slide your silverware onto your empty plate, trying to deter yourself from leaning forward and licking it clean.

Cassian has no such reservations.

“How long has it been since you’ve tried to contact my sister?” Nesta asks when the three of you have finished. Even Azriel couldn’t help but clear his plate, though he did take the longest of the three of you, more than mindful of your captors.

It makes your heart swell that he has kept an eye out for you and Cassian.

Azriel and Cassian share a look over your head, debating how much to indulge. But this is Feyre’s sister, and they want to find her and Rhys just as much, so they relent.

“We tried getting through to them this afternoon, before we ran into you,” Cassian explains. “They were too far out of range.”

“Call them again,” she demands, and Eris opens his mouth to protest but Nesta is clearly done with niceties. “No,” she snaps at the man beside her. “We have given them a place to stay and a warm meal. It’s time for them to do something in return.”

You don’t mention how you didn’t have a choice but to be here, and that they wouldn’t have had to give up their food if you were still wandering out in the woods, but your stomach is too full to argue that point.

Cassian tugs the walkie-talkie from his pocket and switches it on. The static is loud, and you all wait in anticipation until the signal calms a bit before he clicks the button on the side and makes the call. “Rhys? Feyre? Are you out there?”

It’s like waiting for a cure as the six of you listen to the channel. Nothing comes through, and Cassian calls again, to no avail.

“We’ll keep trying,” he says, a determined look in his eye. You’re pretty sure that’s the only thing keeping Nesta in her seat, because she looks like she will reach across the table and stab you with her knife.

Movement in the corner of your eye makes you flinch. Cassian’s arm reaches out to block you and Azriel’s already halfway out of his seat, ready to tear you away from the threat that stumbles into the doorway.

The threat comes in the form of what must be Feyre’s other sister, Elain. She looks ghastly, skin as white as sheet, and as well-fed as Eris’ claims them to be, she’s all skin and bones. Her brown eyes are dull and sunken, purple-rimmed as if she hasn’t had a peaceful night of sleep in years. Her blonde-brown hair sits limp on her head, knotted at the back, as if she’s been drained of all of the health in her life.

She looks like a zombie.

Nesta jumps from her chair at the same time Lucien does, the both of them rushing for Elain. Lucien gets to her first, catching her just as her knees give out and scooping her into his arms. Her head lolls against his chest as if the effort to keep it upright is a burden too much, but her dazed gaze sharpens when it lands on you.

You’re frozen in your seat. You have no words for what you’re seeing, the sickly girl who looks closer to death than a zombie. Your heart pounds a thousand miles a minute in your chest, and your fingers are white-knuckled with confusion and fear where they’re wrapped around Cassian’s forearm.

Elain’s brown eyes widen in a way that looks unnatural for her once beautiful face. Her cracked lips form husky words that are so ominous it has the hair on your body standing on end.

“Twin ravens are coming, one white and one black. One has an injured wing.”

Lucien hushes her softly, murmuring to her as he removes her from the room. “Shh, Elain. Let’s get you back to bed, petal. You shouldn’t be expending so much energy until you’re feeling better.”

Guilt stabs you a thousand times over as he takes her away. It doesn’t take long for you to connect the dots with what you’ve seen. How sickly she looks, the faraway look and ramblings that don’t make sense.

“When did it happen?” You blurt, eyes darting from a stoney-faced Nesta to a grimacing Eris to the door Lucien and Elain disappeared through. You don’t like the feeling that overcomes you, the one that wants you to get the fuck out of here as quickly as possible.

Something isn’t right here.

“It’s late,” Nesta states, looking between the three of you like she’s deciding how she’s going to kill each of you. You suppose she might, if she feels any sort of threat to her sister. For now, she needs you alive, if only to help find her other sister. She won’t dump any of you out yet, unless you can’t prove your worth.

Not unless Feyre is dead.

Azriel tucks you carefully behind him, more than aware of the threat before you. You can tell that he’s just as confused as you are. There’s a tightness to his shoulders that you don’t like, an edge to the strain of his body that screams danger.

His mouth opens to speak, but he’s cut off by the sudden voice that comes over the walkie-talkie.

“Cassian? Azriel? Do you copy?” Rhys’ panicked voice sounds through the machine. More than one emotion threatens to consume you, relief and worry. The full meal in your belly swarms like crashing waves, and you might just throw up after all.

Cassian, Azriel, and Nesta all lunge for the radio. Eris gets his hand around Nesta’s bicep and pulls her away, much to her reluctance. She claws against him but he’s only keeping her away from the three of you, still very much a threat.

Not that you’d be of any assistance should either party try to attack. You’ve collapsed in the closest chair.

“Rhys?” Cassian calls back, just as frantic. His terrified hazel eyes are locked with Azriel’s, and it’s all the black-haired boy can do to console Cassian with a reassuring hand to his shoulder. “Can you hear me? Where the fuck are you?”

It wouldn’t mean much to Nesta, who’s given up her struggling to listen into what’s happening, but to Cassian, you know the touch means everything.

Anticipation skyrockets throughout the room, bringing the temperature up to boiling as you await his response. Each second feels like an eternity, and you’re sure the vein throbbing on Nesta’s forehead is about to explode when Rhysand finally responds.

It sounds like he’s running. You pray that’s not a groan of the undead you hear in the background. “Fuck,” he curses in such a hopeless way that makes your heart drop to the floor. Whatever he’s about to say, it’s not going to be good. “I need you to come find us. I don’t know where the fuck we are, but we need help.”

Azriel rips the walkie-talkie from Cassian’s hand, ready to take the lead. He pockets one of the knives at the table and you can’t even muster the energy to joke about how a butterknife won’t be the best weapon against a horde of zombies because you’re more than ready to follow him into the fray, sans weapons, if all to save your friends.

“Where are you, Rhys? I need landmarks.”

 “Az,” Rhys breathes, but he doesn’t sound relieved. In fact, he sounds spent, and there’s no sign of Feyre on the other line. “We need help. Badly. Feyre’s been bitten.”

And hey, your dinner does make its reappearance after all.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

DBD Taglist: @writingsbychlo @kemillyfreitas @5moremin @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @waggel36  @bionic-donut @queserasera @applepie02  @azrielsbabyg  @arcadianmoonlight  @pradaxstyles  @illyrian-dreamerdreamer @reiincarnatiion  @fuckthatfeeling  @shadowsingersmate24 @poppyalice2001  @fallmyriad  @sstrohma  @tcris2020 @jeannineee  @21stcenturytaegi @ochiolism @secretly-here @harrystylesfan2686 @i-am-infinite @lees-chaotic-brain @eternallyelvish @lilah-asteria @randombibitch @st4r-girl-official @nanisearchinginnerpeace (i hope you see this idk if this tag worked 😭)

IDK if any of these tags are going to work but someone plz lmk 💙

[sam-loves-seb]

the bathroom drawer

"Mickey!" Ian yells. "Did you move my cologne?"

"Your what?" Mickey calls back, appearing in the bathroom doorway while buttoning up his shirt.

"My cologne."

"No. I don't even know where you keep that shit."

"In here!" Ian says, shaking his head as he rummages through the drawer below their bathroom sink. "I swear I left it in here."

"Lemme see," Mickey says, nudging Ian to the side. "You're shit at looking."

"I'm not shit at looking, it's just not fucking there."

"Yeah, yeah," Mickey grumbles, moving the junk in the drawer around. "Jesus Christ. How much shit do we got in here?"

"Too much," Ian muses, folding his arms over his chest and leaning his hip against the sink. "But it doesn't matter anyway. It's not in there. I've been looking for--"

"Found it." Mickey holds up the blue bottle with a smug grin.

Ian grabs it from him. "Whatever."

Mickey raises his eyebrows. "Whatever? That's what I get?"

Ian leans in and gives him a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek. "Thank you," he says instead.

"Better," Mickey grumbles.

Ian spritzes the cologne onto himself while Mickey keeps rummaging around in the drawer. He pulls out an empty toilet paper roll, a broken comb with too many teeth missing, and an old phone charger with exposed wires.

He throws them all in the trash. "This thing is a mess."

"Yeah," Ian says with a sigh, checking himself over in the mirror. He paws at his hair a bit. "We gotta do a deep clean in here one of these days. Closet's a disaster too."

"What the fuck is--"

Ian looks over at his husband when he doesn't finish his sentence.

Mickey's brows are furrowed as he holds up a thin black stick in front of his face. "Is this makeup?"

Ian huffs out a faint laugh. "Yeah."

"Debbie's?"

"That thing's old enough to be Fiona's," Ian tells him, taking it from Mickey. "But no. It's mine."

Mickey raises his brows. "Yours?"

Ian uncaps the tube, twists the end so the little black tip pushes through the end. "Eyeliner."

"Holy shit," Mickey says slowly. "How fucking old is that thing?"

"Old," Ian says, trying to read the chipped writing on the side for any kind of date. "Probably expired."

"That shit expires?"

"Supposedly. But who knows."

Mickey tilts his head, watching Ian examine the eyeliner. "How the hell did it end up here?"

"No idea," Ian tells him. How it survived in the Gallagher house for as long as it did and moved to their west side apartment is beyond him. "Probably got boxed up with some of my shit a long time ago."

"Huh," Mickey muses. He crosses his arms over his chest. "Can't believe you used to put that shit on every night."

"Me neither," Ian says. "You ever tried it?"

"What, make up?"

"Yeah."

"For a disguise once or twice," Mickey tells him with a shrug. "Never like, just 'cause."

Ian starts to grin. "You wanna?"

"Fuck no," Mickey says instinctively. He bites his lip. "Why? You gonna wear it tonight?"

"Why not?" Ian asks, facing the mirror and leaning in close. "We're already going to a club. Might as well get go all out."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah." Ian glances over at his husband. "You got a problem with that?"

Mickey shrugs. "No."

"Okay."

Mickey watches with rapt attention as Ian applies the eyeliner to himself. The stick is old for sure, and it takes a few passes to really get the make up on his eyelid. It only takes a minute though, and then Ian's eyes are outlined in black.

"There," he says, blinking and turning to face Mickey. "How do I look?"

"Weird," Mickey says.

"Sure, but like, crazy weird, or hot weird."

Mickey's brows pinch together. "...Hot weird."

Ian grins. "It's kinda doing it for you, isn't it?"

"No. Shut up," Mickey says quickly.

Ian laughs. "You should try it," he tells his husband. "It's fun."

"It looks like it's gonna get in my eyes."

"Maybe," Ian says with a shrug. "But I bet you'd look hot with it."

"You say that about everything you want me to wear."

"And I've never been wrong once."

Mickey makes a face. "Does it hurt?"

"No."

"...Can I take it off if it looks stupid?"

Ian's face relaxes. "You can take it off whenever you want," he says softly. "Doesn't ever have to leave this bathroom."

Mickey glares at the eyeliner, his face slowly melting into apprehensive reluctance. "Fucking... fine."

"Really?" Ian asks, perking up.

"How do I do it?"

"I can do it," Ian offers, holding up the eyeliner and his open hand. "Lemme put it on you."

Mickey sighs through his nose, then steps closer. He tilts his chin up and fits his face into his husband's waiting hands.

Ian kisses his temple. "Close your eyes."

Mickey does as told. His eyelashes flutter at the first press of the stick, eyelids scrunching at the new, weird sensation.

"Hold still," Ian whispers, trying not to poke him in the eye.

"Feels weird," Mickey mumbles.

"Yeah, but..." Ian pulls back, smiling at his work. "Open your eyes."

Mickey blinks them open, eyebrows bouncing with it. "So?"

"Damn," Ian says, grinning. "You look good, baby."

"Fuck off with that," Mickey grumbles, turning towards the mirror. He makes a face. "I look like a fucking alien."

"A hot alien."

Mickey gives him the side eye, but he doesn't immediately wipe the eyeliner off. He leans in close to the mirror, tilts his head this way and that. Pulls at the skin on his cheeks and his temples. "Weird," he says quietly.

"So," Ian starts, capping the eyeliner and tossing it back in the drawer. "You ready to go, or what?"

Mickey sighs heavily, taking one last look at himself in the mirror.

Ian slides in behind him, curls a hand around his hip. "Don't overthink it," he whispers, kissing his husband's temple. "If you like it, go with it."

"I don't know if I like it."

"That's okay too."

Mickey leans back against him. "It looks good on you."

Ian smiles softly. "Thanks."

Mickey hums. "Fine," he says, standing up straight. "Let's go. But if anyone says anything about it--"

"I know," Ian says, hands on his husband's shoulders as he follows him out of the bathroom. "You get to punch them."

"I get to punch them."

"Fine." Ian kills the bathroom light. "And we might have to hit the 24 hour CVS on the way home. I definitely don't have make up wipes."

[maybeelse]

Supermarket Stillness

There's a mildly embarrassing shelf tucked away in the back of the supermarket, past the jars of pickled spells and the bottles of five-hour-Stillness. It's part of the store you've always been dimly aware of, but why would you ever need to buy some freeze-dried Purpose?

Well, today you have a reason.

You don't linger in front of it, just grab the first vacuum-sealed bag that looks right and try not to meet the cashier's eye as their hands blur through scanning it and all your other groceries.

You're sure they've seen far worse. It still sucks.

---

Back at home, your house-guest's wings twitch as she stares at the proffered bag.

"Seriously?"

"I just, I thought ... you said you needed some?"

"Yeah, but not this shit. I've tried it before, it's barely better than an MMO." She pauses for a moment, eyes you. "Or methadone."

"... oh."

"Like, I appreciate the thought," she continues as her broken halo sways above her head, "it just wouldn't help me at all. I'm sure it would blow you away, you've never even tried it, have you?"

You shake your head. "No, uh, everyone always said not to."

"Ha! They were probably right. Little thing like you's better off not fucking with that part of of the world."

"... yeah."

After that the conversation trails off into the usual day-to-day space-filling, words that hardly matter and mean less; a pantomime of connection.

You tuck the little vacuum sealed bag in the back of a cupboard (it cost too much to throw away, no matter how useless it is!) and try to forget about it.

---

Time passes, as time is wont to do.

Your house-guest leaves a few weeks later.

It's nothing to do with you, she explains. She's grateful that you were able to give her a place to stay, she's never liked having to rough it with the feral angels. But no matter those fleeting moments stolen in the depths of night, she needs something more than you can give.

She mentions that she's going across the city to live in one of the witch-houses, a place where she thinks she'll find what she needs. You wish her well, of course you do, and then ...

Your little apartment is empty again.

She stops replying to your texts after a few weeks.

That's how it goes, isn't it? There's hardly anything something like you can offer to someone like her. You're just a freeze-dried, mass-produced substitute discarded as soon as something better comes along; a worthless thing sinking deeper into depression's spiral.

A month later you're using a sudden upswing to clean out all the junk that's accumulated in your cupboards—all the almost-empty boxes, the dented cans and expired jars; the detritus of your dreams of Doing Things In The Kitchen—when you stumble across the bag of Purpose again.

It really doesn't look appetizing at all, even with the bright words and little cartoon halo on its label. Really, what were you thinking trying to offer it to a proper angel?

You really should just throw it away, but ...

You pause right before tossing it into the can.

Because, really, it would be a shame to just waste so much money on something you never try, wouldn't it? It would be a Waste, and that's so very close to a sin.

Just one taste couldn't hurt, just the tiniest morsel. Just to know what you've been missing out on. It'll be fine.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Silver

Bleeding in Moonlight: Chapter One | Chapter Two |

CW: Some brief moments of dehumanization, referenced captivity and torture, referenced death/murder

-

“I have no idea where we’re even going.” 

Eden flexed his fingers, stretching them out and then closing them back around the steering wheel. His head felt like it was full of wet cotton, heavy and soft and soaking into every wrinkle of his brain. 

Apparently driving on two hours of sleep wasn’t the best way to handle these things. Not that they had a choice. Well, they did have a choice, but Anaya wasn’t about to let him make it. She was determined to keep going as long as they could.

“Just drive east,” She said, as if she could hear him thinking. “We have a full tank of gas, we can go for hours.”

“Hours?” He couldn’t quite suppress the way his voice sounded pouting, a toddler throwing a tantrum in the middle of a store. He took a deep breath and tried to straighten his spine.

Still, every pothole, bump in the road, or swerving too-tight turn brought an answering whimper or soft whine from the back and Eden’s nerves were fraying more every single time. 

His heart twisted at the simple sounds of pain, sure - he knew it had to hurt like hell, lying there with a stitched-up leg and only some expired hydrocodone from an old surgery Eden had had years ago for the pain, but Eden’s own head was throbbing with a lack of sleep, his eyes felt hot and dry, and a muscle in his jaw had begun to twitch as he kept grinding his teeth.

He had to push down the urge to snap at the boy to quiet down. It wasn’t his fault, Eden knew it wasn’t, but the anger still rose with every pulse of his heartbeat he could feel behind his eyes.

Added to all the other bullshit about today, they were in the middle of nowhere, a good hour from the next place Eden could think of to even grab half-decent coffee. They needed to find somewhere where they could park, somewhere nobody would look in the back and then ask about a thousand increasingly uncomfortable but honestly really understandable questions about the naked teenage boy back there.

The naked teenage boy covered in scars and wrapped in blankets, who badly needed a haircut and a hamburger and who hadn't spoken a fucking word since they started driving.

“Not too many. Four more hours of driving would get us to Missoula,” Anaya said, a little distracted, looking down at her phone. “I have a friend we could crash with there. Vanessa… she has an extra room, she says. Yeah. Four hours and twenty minutes to Missoula and then we can spend a couple days figuring this out-”

“Anaya.”

She blinked and looked over at him. “What?”

“We absolutely cannot take him to Missoula.” Eden had the urge to drop his head into his hands even as he made his careful way on the winding road, the darkly forested mountains they had been camping in rising high and dagger-edged behind them. Like they were angry at them taking the boy out of the woods and towards civilization.

Well, that was a weird thing to think.

“Of course we can,” Anaya said, frowning, puzzled. 

“No. We can’t. Missoula is in Montana."

"Yeah, I'm aware. But it's also only four hours away."

"Going to Missoula... that is a full on crazy idea, Naya, and you know it.”

“I don’t know it. Why exactly is that crazy?” Anaya, bristling, set her phone down and twisted around in her seat to look back at the blanket lump behind them that was Misae, whose eyes were closed even as his expression was pinched with pain. “We all need sleep, right? All three of us do. Vanessa won’t ask too many questions.”

“If we show up with him, she probably should!”

“Why?”

“Anaya, for God’s sake… Taking a minor across state lines is fucking kidnapping!”

“Sure, if we had kidnapped him, but we didn’t! Somebody else did!”

“Okay, first of all, that isn’t how kidnapping works. We’re not playing fucking flag football with a human being. Also, we don’t know that he was kidnapped at all!”

“He said his family is dead! That means he was kidnapped by whoever killed them!”

“We. Don’t. Know. That. It just means they’re dead, it doesn’t say anything about how they died or how he ended up where he is. You’re… you’re just guessing at things we can’t prove, that might not even be true!”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Her voice sharpened.

His own voice rose in response, louder than he intended. “He might have lied to us or something!” 

The boy in the back flinched, hands moving to cover his head, visible as a sudden shift in the rearview mirror. Misae groaned, muttering something to himself. Eden’s chest twisted in dismay as he realized there was a tiny spot of red starting to show through the blanket, which meant the poor kid had started bleeding through his bandages at some point. He needed them changed. Eden must not have done a good enough job putting pressure on the wound. The stitches were doing their best, but Eden’s first aid kit wasn’t great, and stitching someone up in the woods in a hurry was never going to work well anyway. He needed to redo the stitches, hopefully after a few hours of sleep and with steadier hands. Guilt prickled. “Sorry... I'm sorry, man. I don’t really think that you’re lying, exactly, it’s just… Maybe you told us what you thought we needed to hear so we’d help you. I’d honestly understand if you did.”

“Eden!” Anaya smacked at his shoulder. “You can’t just accuse him of lying!”

“I’m not trying to be accusing! I’m just trying to keep us from getting thrown in prison. Taking a minor over state lines isn’t just illegal, it’s a felony. We do not have enough knowledge about this situation right now to commit felonies for total strangers, even if they are bleeding all over my backseat!”

She huffed and rolled her eyes. “You took out the backseat.”

“... please don’t do that thing where you nitpick everything I say because you’re mad at me even though you know I’m right.”

Anaya opened her mouth, then closed it and looked away. "Yeah, okay." For Anaya, that was a white flag raised high. 

He took the truce she offered gladly. “Okay, so, we don’t know him well enough to commit a felony on his behalf, even though he’s bleeding all over my trunk.”

She relaxed a little - his acknowledgement of the nitpick was his way of flying a white flag, too. Then she sighed. “Well…” Anaya trailed off, then turned back around and looked at the road ahead as if it were personally offensive to her. “Okay, I can see your point. Maybe… maybe you’re right about this. Still, we don’t even know he’s from Idaho at all, he might have already been taken over state lines? We’re… there’s no way we’re the bad guys for helping him, is there?”

“No, I didn’t say that. I don’t think we are, and I absolutely agree that he needs help. I’m just… I’m just too tired to think straight about this, or maybe I’d have a better idea of what we should do. We need to stop so I can nap, so we can all nap. Yeah?”

“Fair enough.” Anaya tipped her head back against her seat, her black hair spilling in messy waves all around her shoulders and down to her ribcage. The clear light of morning turned her skin  Eden fell in love all over again.

He usually did, every time he looked at her. 

“Naptime for everybody,” She said, a little dreamily. “Sounds good. Does that sound good to you, too, Misae?”

The boy had to hear them, they weren’t keeping their voices particularly low, but he didn’t answer. He was lying down in the back of the car, everything but his injured leg curled up as tightly as he could get, existing in a kind of numb silence. 

Shock, Eden had thought at first. Now his mind skipped back to the sight of the scars the kid was covered in, and he wondered if he just was too used to being hurt and simply didn't think this kind of thing was worth even remarking on. Or... maybe he was used to getting hurt worse if he spoke up about the pain. Maybe it had been safer to be silent.

Still... at least the kid seemed to be getting some sleep. He'd clearly dozed on and off for most of the drive. He didn’t even seem to be listening to them now, when they were specifically talking about him. 

When Eden checked the mirror, all he saw was that reddish-brown hair with gray scattered throughout, sticking out like a puffball above the blankets he’d curled himself up beneath, which Eden did not allow himself to think was cute. The red stain on the blanket - was it a little bigger than the last time he’d looked?

Shit.

“Right." He hummed, changing lanes. "Also, not to like harp on this or anything, but… what if somebody’s still looking for him?”

Anaya’s thoughtful frown deepened. “He said that his family-”

“Is dead, no, I know he said that. I’m not talking about family, not exactly. But that guy with the gun, he said something about finding bodies on their land before, remember? Like this isn’t the first time. And he was clearly hunting that wolf. So… would they just give up looking?”

Anaya’s worry had her thumb shifting upwards, until she was absently nipping at her thumbnail, catching it between top and bottom teeth and worrying at a torn spot of skin along her cuticle. “I don’t know. I guess I figured they would, if he wasn’t on their land anymore, but…” 

Eden sighed, half-smiling as he reached out and put a hand over hers, pulling it back down and holding tight. “Stop that, baby.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Stop eating your hand,” Eden said, with long-suffering affection. Her fingers twined into his and he gave a short squeeze. She squeezed back.

“Eden, seriously, I’m not eating my-” Naya glanced down at her thumb, the nail already torn at one corner. She smiled a little. “Oh. I guess I was. Well, anyway, we should still help him, right? We can’t just leave some kid to bleed to death alone. If we don’t go to Missoula, what do we do next?”

“I honestly… I don’t know.” He had to pull his hand back - this road was way too full of curves to be safe to drive one-handed - but the simple gestures, old habits long built between them, settled his racing heart a little. He and Anaya had been together since before he’d dropped out of his residency, even, as friends at first and then they had realized more or less at the same time that 'just friends' had started being more without either of them noticing it. The memory of their simultaneous attempts to officially ask each other out, awkward and sweet, made everything about the day seem suddenly a little easier to handle. He took a deep breath. “I’m just saying that we don’t know anything about this kid, except that he got shot and he’s running from somebody named Bill.”

“We also know that he’s a werewolf,” Anaya pointed out. When Eden didn’t respond, she frowned, narrowing her eyes at him. Eden chanced a glance sidelong so he could see it - her squinty eyes always made her adorable, even if she’d get really, really mad if he told her that.

She saw him thinking it anyway.

Her eyes narrowed even more, but the corner of her mouth twitched upwards. “Eden Yarrow, you quit that.” Anaya hissed, badly hiding the smile that kept trying to creep over her, “This is not me joking. He’s a werewolf! You saw him being a wolf! We both saw that he’s a werewolf!”

“No, we didn’t. We definitely saw a wolf. We’re agreed on that. Then, later, we saw a kid hiding under my car. Two totally different events that happened literally hours apart.” He paused, letting the silence draw out. The radio droned in and out of whatever stations it could pick up this far away from anything at all. He winced when he heard a scrap of a sermon. The sound was too familiar not to feel like ghosts haunting him down to the bone, the echo of his father’s own thundering disappointment. “We don’t, technically speaking, actually know that they’re even related events.”

Anaya didn’t respond, but the sheer weight of her answering stare burned hot against his right cheek. He could have seen it with his eyes closed. He was vaguely afraid he’d end up with some kind of burn as a result.

Eden tried to wait her out. The silence drew out. The radio played part of a hip-hop song and then went back to static. 

Naya had always been better at the quiet game, though, and after only a couple of minutes he gave up trying and just sighed. “Okay, I admit it would be a really big coincidence-”

“Yeah, I’d say it would be one hell of a coincidence!” She drew the word out, gave it syllables it didn’t even have. “I mean, sure, it’s a coincidence, in the same way that Batman and Bruce Wayne are coincidentally never seen in the same room at the same time-”

“Don’t you bring Batman into this.”

“Fine. Clark Kent and Superman, then.”

“Now you’re just listing every superhero.”

“Look, if you want to play this game, I could do this for days. We’ll die of dehydration before I run out of superheroes and their secret identities.”

He didn’t know if she looked as smug as she sounded, but he knew if he looked he’d start laughing and this whole conversation would be a wash.

“... Fine. Yeah, okay, you win. I’ll accept it. Werewolves are real. Men who turn into fucking wolves on the full moon, totally real. Oh, and cherry on top of the sundae, there’s one in the back of my car right now. Pure insanity, but sure.”

“Insanity. Right. But wouldn't you-... wouldn't-" The corner of her mouth twitched upwards again. She muttered under her breath, and had to put her hands up over her face. Her shoulders shook a little.

Eden sighed. His headache was getting worse. Even his arms felt weirdly heavy. They passed a road sign advertising a rest stop coming up, and he shifted into the right lane, not bothering with a turn signal. There was nobody but them and a handful of tractor trailers and like two other cars on the road right now anyway. “What?”

Anaya shook her head. She still had her hands over her mouth. “You won’t like it.”

“Why not? Just tell me. What’s so damn funny?”

“Would you say it's insanity... or..." She said, her voice slightly cracked with suppressed laughter. “Eden. Listen. Wouldn't it more accurately be... lunacy? Get it? Like the moon? Lunacy? Werewolves and the m-”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Eden muttered. “Isn’t the guy in the relationship supposed to do the stupid dad jokes? Anaya, I am not laughing.”

“Hi, Not Laughing, I’m Anaya.” She threw her head back, the sound of her laughter bouncing around the inside of the car. A little delirious with her own exhaustion. It made Eden feel warm to hear it, even as he heard the boy in the back shift around for the first time. In the mirror, he caught sight of those unsettling light brown eyes, glinting gold with reflected sun, as the kid lifted his head enough to stare at Anaya like she’d grown four new arms. 

Wolf eyes.

He had to admit it.

The kid did not have human eyes at all. 

He took the exit for the rest stop, relieved to break eye contact. It had felt almost like a physical weight, demanding to be recognized even though the kid remained quiet. 

He was unsurprised to see a few semi trucks already parked alongside three regular cars. A small family sat eating what was clearly a kind of picnic breakfast at a small table in the morning sunlight. Another man had a dog on a leash sniffing around the edges of a trash can.

The boy must have seen the man with the dog, too. He made a sound, low in his throat, shifting over to get a better look through the backseat window. The sound he made was like a rumble, eyes laser focused on the man and his dog, and suddenly the mess of his hair seemed almost to stick out more than it had before. He shifted as Eden’s car passed by the two, his injured leg dragging a little as he tried to kneel, hands against the glass. 

Eden pulled into a parking spot at the very end of the row, as far away from anyone else as he could get, and just sat there, blinking. Then the nature of the sound seemed to suddenly make itself clear to him all at once. “What the hell? Dude, are you trying to growl? Anaya, he’s growling. Like a-”

“Wolf?” Anaya asked the question in a tone of pure and perfect innocence. When Eden glanced at her, her eyebrows were raised nearly to her hairline. “Would you say it was a wolflike sound, there, Eden? Canine, perhaps?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” He snapped, but his heart wasn’t in it. Anaya reached out to take his hand, pulling his knuckles to her lips to kiss them, one by one. He found himself relaxing until his head dropped back against the headrest. The world swam in front of him, the trees that lined the rest stop shifting in and out of focus.

God, he needed some sleep. 

Anaya yawned, Eden yawned - and then, in the back, he heard the unmistakable sound of Misae yawning, too. Anaya rolled her shoulders, then shifted to open the door and step out. “I’m going to go check and see if this place has one of those coffee vending machines. You want anything?”

“Granola bar or protein bar, if they got one. Also coffee. Not that it'll do much good. Anything for you?” He looked back at the mirror again when there wasn’t an answer. “Hey. Wolfboy.”

Misae looked away from him. Eden could read his expression well enough, though. He looked… hurt. His shoulders slumped, inching up towards his chin, and he sat back down. 

Anaya frowned. “I think we just insulted him.”

“Oh.” Eden cleared his throat. “Uh… Misae. Is ‘wolfboy’ bad? Not a good nickname?”

The boy’s eyes dropped down as he licked at his lips, taking in a deep breath and then slowly letting it out. His eyes cut off to one side, refusing to look back. An uncomfortable, heavy silence weighed all of them down. 

Just as Eden was about to give up waiting for him to speak and tell Anaya to go on and get the food, Misae cleared his throat. His words came out halting and hesitant, speaking slowly. “It’s fine. Just water, please.”

Anaya nodded. “You got it. Any food for you? You’ve got to be hungry by now, right?”

Misae didn’t respond this time, no matter how long they waited. He just blinked. 

Anaya sighed and then shrugged at Eden. “I’ll get him something,” She said, voice low, and then walked away, the car closing gently behind her. Misae watched her go, eyebrows furrowing a little in something like worry. The two men watched Anaya disappear into the rest stop building.

After a couple of minutes had passed, Misae whined. The tone was a little different than it had been before - not pain, but… concern. It was a deeply familiar sound, one Eden had heard a hundred times in his life or more. 

“Oh, stop it, she’s coming right back.” 

Silence from the back. 

Eden caught himself, and then made a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh. Even he wasn’t sure which he meant to do. “Sorry. I know you’re not a dog.”

"Was... shifted, for too long. Can't remember which I am sometimes."

"Oh. Uh... Sorry?"

Silence.

Eden sighed. “Boy, you are not a talker, huh.”

The quiet drew out for a while longer. Eden’s mind wandered, and he found himself picking up the silver bullet, turning it in circles so he could run his fingers over the markings carved into it. They looked almost like… runes. Only not like them at all. But the idea was the same - symbols drawn in straight lines and dots, the occasional half-circle curve. Some of them had been partly obliterated by being fired into a human being - or not a human being, maybe, at least not all the way - but he could still get a sense for them by running his fingers over the curves of the thing. 

It felt oddly heavy in his hands. When he tipped it to one side and then the other, something seemed to shift inside it. Was it full of buckshot? It was a miracle it hadn’t filled the kid’s body with shrapnel. If it had broken apart the way Eden had thought it would…

Well, sewing up the wound wouldn't have been enough to save him.

His lips pressed together into a line. Then, he turned to look back at Misae, who was watching Eden and the bullet, his eyes locked with unconcealed dread on the way the silver glinted in the sunlight. Eden’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Hey.”

Brown-gold eyes flicked to his, then back to the silver. 

“Will you hold this for me?” Eden held the bullet out, only to watch with wide eyed as Misae flinched violently backwards, crying out in pain as his injured leg was forced into motion. He stopped only when his back was pressed against the back windshield. He had to clutch at the blankets and pull them back up to cover himself, but briefly all his scarred-up nakedness, the parade of bruises in various stages of healing all over his body, the mix of uneven welts and sharp, perfect straight lines of damaged skin were all on terrible display.

Eden looked nervously out the windows, but nobody seemed to have noticed them. Good. The idea of having to explain what Misae doing in his car was... not even scary, just something so exhausting he couldn't even stand to think about it. He dropped the bullet back into the cupholder. “Silver really freaks you out, huh?”

Misae slowly nodded, but he didn’t relax or move back close. “Bad,” He said, hoarsely. “It’s bad.”

“Silver is bad? Like, it hurts you? Like mythology?"

“It hurts.” Misae’s chin jerked down in the nod, and he crossed his arms in front of himself. His face was pale, white under the darkened freckles. “It… burns me, cuts me, doesn’t heal.”

“It doesn’t heal?” Eden thought of the wound that was still, somehow, bleeding even though he’d stitched it up and bandaged it heavily. “Like, ever?”

“If it comes out, it will. Different then.” Misae’s shoulders hunched near his ears and he looked down, hair falling forward to shadow his eyes. “Heals too slowly. Always scars. I don’t… like to see silver.”

“Oh. Uh… sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t think… that it would scare you like that, but that makes sense. Hey, about earlier… do they call you that? The, uh, the people… where you’ve been living? Do they call you ‘wolfboy’? Is that why it bugged you when I said it?”

Another long pause. Speaking with Misae felt like dropping a coin into a well and having to wait way too long before you hear it splash. Eventually, those narrow shoulders shrugged. “Sometimes they call me that. Sometimes other things.”

“Other things?”

“Worse things.”

“Like what?”

Misae looked at him through shaggy bangs, lips thinning.

“Yeah… okay. You probably don’t want to just tell me the nasty bits, you barely know me.” Eden sighed, leaning over until his forehead touched the steering wheel, closing his eyes. He wondered if he’d just… doze off, if he kept them shut for too long. He started talking just to try and keep himself awake. “This has been… the weirdest day, man. I have a werewolf in my car. An injured werewolf. An injured teenage werewolf.” With his level of exhaustion, it suddenly seemed like a reasonable possibility. Sure, why wouldn’t there be werewolves? Why not? Why wouldn’t there be a werewolf with knobby elbows and long legs in the back of his stupid old car? 

Maybe Bigfoot was out there, too, and they’d catch him hitchhiking. Or fucking little green aliens in flying saucers. Why the hell not? Or even vampires, maybe. 

Maybe they’d find a vampire staked through the wrong part of their chest next with a thumb out for a ride and have to take them on a road trip, too. Like a fucked-up road trip movie. Maybe he’d walk into a fairy circle of mushrooms one morning and vanish, never to be seen again. Or wake up in three hundred years the same age he was when he went to sleep, or…

Maybe all of it was real, legends and myth. Maybe he didn’t notice because he’d never tried to read between the lines of reality before. 

If he was having thoughts like that, he desperately needed sleep. He had to force down a half-hysterical giggle and make himself focus on his next train of thought. It was getting more difficult to think at all. “The guy who shot you. The one we saw in the woods. Who is that?”

Pause. “Austin.”

“... Is Austin one of the people… you live with?”

“Sort of.”

“What… what does ‘sort of’ mean?” God, it was like pulling teeth that just kept growing deeper roots every time he asked a question, fighting harder to give him nothing. Kid didn’t exactly make himself easy to rescue, now did he?

No. That wasn’t fair. He’d gotten right into the car, he’d let Eden and Anaya drive him away without protest. He just… didn’t seem to find it easy to speak. 

“Austin lives in the house.”  

“Where do you live?”

Silence again, other than the soft sound of Misae breathing. 

Did he not want to answer? Or did he not know what Eden was asking, not pick up on it? Maybe he thought Eden was making fun of him somehow. Eden frowned, trying to think, to reword the question. “I’m asking seriously. Did you not live in the house? Where did you sleep? Come on. Talk to me, I’m trying to understand.”

Misae shrugged again. “Outside.”

That seemed to be all Misae was willing to give him. 

Eden listened as the boy behind him just laid back down against the back of the car, hissing through his teeth at the pain in his stitched-up leg. Eden glanced back in time to see him cover himself until even his hair vanished beneath the layers of quilted cotton blankets. Just an unmoving lump with a red splotch near the bottom. 

The boy was literally hiding from having to continue the conversation.

“Okay, guess we’re done with that, then,” Eden muttered, rubbing his hands over his face. His stubble was scratchy under his palms along his jaw, and the sensation sent a warmth through him. Felt pretty damn good, even though he knew it would drive him crazy if he didn’t get a chance to shave in the next couple of days.  

He decided, glutton for punishment that he was, to try one more time. “Are these people going to keep looking for you, even though we got you off their land?” After a long pause, he let his frustration bleed into his tone, and stopped trying to gentle it. “Just fucking answer me, okay, man? Are the people who shot you going to keep looking for you now?”

Misae’s muffled voice came, barely audible from under the blankets. “Yes.”

“What happens if they find you?”

Silence.

“God damn it, kid-”

“Containment!” Misae’s voice trembled, now, enough for Eden to hear it. The word seemed forced from him against his will, spat out like poison. He wondered suddenly if he wasn’t hiding from the conversation itself, but trying to hide his tears from view. Ashamed or even afraid of his own emotions. “Quarantine.”

A pit opened somewhere between Eden’s chest and his stomach. He shivered, despite the warmth of the sun shining on him through the window. Goosebumps raised on his arms until he rubbed at them with one hand. “What?” 

He glanced over at the rest stop building and saw Anaya through the glass doors. She stood off to one side at the vending machines, choosing something, looking down at her phone while she waited.

“Been in quarantine so he could fix us. But… but I left.” Misae hitched in an uneven breath, a whine at the edge of his exhale. Twisting canine noise into human speech. “Left.”

“Why did you leave?”

Misae looked to the side, his hopelessness a heavy weight in the car, pressing the both of them down. “Bill decided no one would ever get better. Can’t be fixed.”

“What does that mean? ‘Getting better?’” 

“Not… becoming. We might still hurt people. Make them sick, too."

“... You hurt people?”

“I… I didn’t mean to…” Misae licked at his lips again, looking away and then back, and Eden had trouble with the combination of a very human body echoing very canine traits over and over again. 

“So you were… kept in quarantine to keep you from hurting people?”

"From making them sick."

"... oh."

Eden felt like the next pause between sentences like a hammer bashing at his brain. His heart beat too hard. He looked up and saw Anaya heading back their way, a coffee in each hand, somehow balancing a water bottle between her arm and her side and with protein bars stuffed in her pockets. He swallowed, feeling a surreal and completely pointless urge to tell her to stay away. Get out, run, get help.

To what? Save him from the exhausted, frightened, injured boy in the back who clearly couldn’t have hurt a fly in his current state? The thought was ridiculous. Misae was the epitome of fucking harmless. 

Bill, whoever he was, was clearly a liar.

Then again… Eden thought of the wolf racing in the moonlight, stumbling through their campsite. 

In the end, Misae was the first one to speak again. He just said, voice flat, “Silver was supposed to fix us. Make us safe. But Bill said it wasn’t enough. It’s… it’s like rabies.”

“What’s like rabies?”

"The bite."

Eden cleared his throat. “Okay, so… that’s why you’re on your own? Because of what this Bill guy said about it not being treatable? So you ran away?"

Misae’s throat moved, adam’s apple shifting up and down. His lips twisted into something like a snarl before he closed his eyes tightly. He pulled one knee to his chest, the injured leg still stuck out straight, and closed his arms around it, hiding most of his face. His shoulders shook, and the tears in his voice couldn’t be hidden no matter how soft and hoarse he kept his words.

“I thought I did a good enough job pretending."

A pause.

“I didn’t know Austin would see me when I climbed out of it.”

“Out of what?”

“... The hole.”

Eden stared sightlessly ahead, feeling somehow like it would be easier for Misae if he wasn't looking. His heart beat hard and ice pushed through his veins. "The hole?"

"We were all buried together. I had to wait. I was... I was the only one who climbed out of the... it was a g-grave..." Misae began to cry, sobs shaking thin shoulders, hoarse rasping sobs that filled the whole space inside the little car.

Anaya returned, balancing coffee and water and granola bars stuffed into her pockets. She opened the car door and then froze, staring. Her eyes went from Misae to Eden. "What-... what happened while I was gone?"

Eden felt like his own eyes were too wide, ringed in white, when he met her gaze.

"We, uh." He cleared his throat. "Get in. You were right. Let's stop to sleep in Missoula."

-

@finder-of-rings @burtlederp @scoundrelwithboba @shrimpwritings

[itsanerdlife]

Twisted Love 6

Pairing: Clint Barton x Castle!Reader

Warnings: Death. Tragedy. Loss. Cheating. Spicy, let’s just say that. It’s gonna be spicy.

Oh yeah there’s Smut, like early on. I’m not even sorry.

In a dark world, the one thing you don’t want is to find out the one you trust, who you’d give your life up for, isn’t as faithful as you thought.               When tragedy pulls my marriage apart, at the seams. Everything seems to just get worse from there. Only my husband isn’t going to let things go that easy, I find that out when he drags me back home.                     The only D we agree to, was till Death and that just might be the only thing left.   But for who?

“Who is Sophia?” Frank glares at him.

He storms after his wife.

“I have some things to do today tell T to get ready.” She casually calls back at him.

“Who is Brock?” Frank snarls after them.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Clint demands.

“Don’t worry Shug, I’m stocked up on plan B, Brock wasn’t much for suiting up either.” She laughs lightly, a smug dangerous grin on her lips.

“Excuse me?!” Her father blanches.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Sweets.” He warns her through his teeth.

“Why?” Her head tips, the ruined messy bun completely gone, long strands falling over her shoulder. She slips a step closer to him. “Should I ask who you’ve been coming in while I’ve been away?” Her brown jerks up.

“You don’t get to disrespect me while I’m still leaking down your thighs.” He bares his teeth.

“Oh I walked into the wrong part of that conversation.” Barney groans joining them.

“Someone better start answering my questions!” Her father barks loudly. “Who is Brock?”

“Your daughters boyfriend.”

She shrugs.

“Well actually,” Barney chuckles, she turns to glare at her brother in law. “he was my breakfast date.” He grins with pride.

Y/N shakes her head not bothering to remark on that.

“Meaning what?” Frank wonders.

“Clint killed him. Barney disposed of him.” She rolls her eyes.

“You knew he was a dead man the second he opened his mouth in that club.” Barney shrugs.

“Club?” Franks blinks at them.

“I was working in a club, in lingerie for dollars, daddy.” She beams at her father, proudly.

“This is how we die.” Barney swallows.

“Fuck.” Clint drags his hand over his face.

“If I’m being honest it was a sex club for dollars.” She corrects herself.

“Well it wasn’t for dollars kitten, smallest bill you had was a twenty.” Barney chuckles under his breathe.

Clint glares at his brother.

Frank pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Your mother is rolling in her grave.” Frank grumbles.

“Tell me it’s a lie, Y/N.” Clint sighs heavily, his chest tightening.

“What would be a lie?” She bats her eyes at him.

His jaw clenches, glaring at her. “Don’t play dumb.” He warns.

“Guess I’m just dumb.” She sasses back.

“Tell me it’s a lie anyone else, another man is coming in you!” He yells suddenly.

“Oh fuck.” T appears next to Frank. Who looks to be praying to the ceiling.

She licks her lips, staring back at him. Something dark flashes in her eyes.

“I’m not the only one you’re coming in.” Her voice light like a whisper but packed with a right hook blow.

Frank turns to glare at him.

Barney swallows hard.

“Don’t worry, Clint.” She pats his cheek light with a smug grin. “Plan B doesn’t expire, you can keep pretending you love me, and you won’t have to worry about any repercussions of it.” She steps back, looking to T.

“Be a dear and send like a hundred boxes to Sophia, that should keep her stocked for like two – three months, you know how Clint gets some weeks.” She waves her hand dismissively.

“That’s enough Y/N.” He growls at her.

“We could get divorced.” She throws out, smirking at him. Leaving the four of them shocked and silent.

“Y/N.” Franks warns.

“Easy Kitten.” Barney blinks wildly.

“We said till Death. The only D that will ever end this marriage.” He reminds her.

She shrugs. “You or me, Darlin?”

The seriousness in her voice, the ice cold in her eyes. This wasn’t a ploy to rile him up, to pick a fight. She meant this.

“T get ready, I have something’s to do today.” She smirks at him.

“It’s never a good feeling when you grin like that.” T sighs.

“Just evening the playing field.” She smirks.

With that she turns leaving them. The door of the room she’s staying in closed a moment later.

“Who is Sophia?” Frank snarls at him.

“You are not my issue right now Frank. I have to deal with your unstable, crazy ass daughter!” He heads for his bedroom. “And don’t you think about doing anything she told you too T!” He demands before opening his bedroom door.

“He does realize she will kill me first?” T asks quietly.

“I’ll do it!” Barney volunteers.

“Charles!” Clint calls after his brother.

“He’s long gone.” T calls back.

“What the Fuck is happening in this fucking house!?” Frank demands.

It’s quiet for a moment.

“I fucked up with your daughter and I’m about to repent for my sins… in the worst of ways.” He relies closing the door to his room.

----------

Lights change slowly. Pretty woman, wander around. The music in time with the lights.

Deep black hair, meets the small of her back. Emerald green eyes. Full lips and a pretty face, and body most men would pay to lick.

“Are you a vouyer or just bashful?” She flashes a dazzling and alluring smile.

“Maybe both?” Smiling at her from my seat in the wide leather chair.

“Most vouyers aren’t woman in my experience.” She tucks a strand of hair back.

“Why do men get to have all the fun?” Sipping from my glass.

“Looking to have some fun today?” She offers.

“I was actually hoping you could tell me if you were hiring?” Tipping my head.

“At the club? Yeah, we are. I can grab a manager for you.” She offers with a wave of her hand behind her.

“Please?” I grin at her.

She nods leaving quickly.

“That is not the way I thought that was going to go.” T leans over speaking close to my ear.

“Who said I’m done?” I grin at him.

He shakes his head for a moment. “You planning to fuck your husbands mistress too?” He lifts a brow at me.

A grin on my lips, dragging my bottom lips, shrugging a shoulder.

“I have to know how she’s better than me to steal my husband.” I smirk at him.

“Listen to me.” He snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Do not, you hear me, do not kill this woman in public.” He stares back at me.

“I’m not.” I laugh.

“Yeah lookin like Harley Quinn over there. Like you aren’t ready to snap her neck and parade her body around like Shamo at Sea World.” He rolls his eyes.

“Shamo did it right, he bite off the parts. I could always gift my husband with hers.” I point out to him. He sighs, glaring at me.

“That’s not what you were supposed to take from that.”

“I know” I grin as Sophia and what I can only assume is the manager come towards us.

“Clint going to kill us.” T sighs.

“Fair is only fair.” I laugh.

------------------------------ Everything Peaches 12/8/22 @mo320 @ml7010 @irepeldirt @joannie95 @nunu2888 @coley0823 @rileyloves5 @sexyvixen7 @duckestylez @abschaffer2 @genius2050 @drayshadow @shirukitsune @xoxabs88xox @rosalynshields @destiel-artemis @hookslove1592 @royal-sunflower @iwillbeinmynest @bellamy-barnes @geeksareunique @fanfic-n-tabulous @spookygrantaire @steel-blue-eyess @mariekoukie6661 @capsheadquaters @bless-my-demons @notyourtypicalrose @lets-talk-about-xyz @loving-life-my-way @shinycupcakebaker @also-fangirlinsweden @stupendous-science @daughterofthenight117 @dandelionsmarkthegrave @physically-a-cheesecake @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​

Clint ‘Destory Me, I’ll Thank You’ Barton: @nickyl316h​

[thesmokingguns]

Peach Picking Chapter Two

Trigger Warning: Mentions of cheating and drinking

Peach POV

‘I hope you’re well, thinking of you and missing you. XX BB’

I saw the text from Ben, slipping my phone into my bag as I sighed, feeling the anxiety headache start to come up, leaving me with a dull thud throwing behind my temples and leaving me with the overwhelming feeling of needing to fix the mess I was getting myself into.

I had been ignoring him for two days, since I had found out something that had crippled me with anxiety.

I should text Sammie before she gets to the party and fill her into the shit show that I let happen in my life. A quick little heads up about how Nikki and I were not in a good place and, oh yeah, some English actor slid into my Dm’s and I have a crush on him like a fucking kid. And can’t stop thinking about him because he makes me feel like myself for the first time in ten years. That was exactly the text message my bestie wanted to get.

Groaning as I threw my head back I wanted to scream This was all too much and I wanted to crawl into bed and not think about the mess that I had made of my life.

“Peach, you ready…wow.” My eyes lifted to look at Nikki, of course not in costume despite heading to a Halloween party, looking at me, “You look great.” He was eating me up and I felt myself growing needy with attention. Loving the way his eyes were only on me as he came towards me, fingers rubbing over my rib cage and around my back, pulling me into him.

And just like that I was melting, eyes looking up at him expecting to see dark pools and an easy smile but instead I saw Nikki and leapt back, shocked at how my mind was wandering and I was putting off things that needed to be dealt with.

Especially since two days ago when Nikki had asked me to help him with something on Instagram, leaving me while he went to go to the bathroom. I wasn’t snooping, a message came in and I clicked on it, thinking I’d message a fan back but instead I found his DM filled with explicit pictures that he was sending and messages that made me shake and feel sick. I had air printed them as I waited for him to come back, hiding them and fixing his issue, locking the phone and tossing it away from me.

He had been cheating on me for months and I wanted to cry over it like a lost girl, tossed to the side but at the same time all I could think was that I was free. And knowing that had made me scared. It made me scared because as soon as I realized what Nikki was doing all I could think about was kissing Ben.

I made myself mourn, pouting around the house being a full brat as I thought several times Nikki was going to strangle me. But this was the end of being this and I wanted to act like I was his. It wasn’t endearing like it had been before and I could feel the exasperation in his tone. And his exhaustion with me was the verification I needed to know he didn’t love me like before.

“Peach, you've been weird lately.” Nikki commented as I sat beside him in the car. I looked at him wondering if he sensed our expiration date coming up or if he foolishly believed in the forever he had sold to me. I stared at him, watching Nikki’s confusion.

“I don’t think we’re in love anymore.” The air got hot and thick in the car, Nikki gripping the steering wheel as he cursed, shaking his head as I folded myself up in the seat, getting ready for his anger.

“Why do you say this shit? Why do you say shit just to get a fucking reaction?” he yelled, palm coming down hard against the wheel as I regretted opening my mouth. The fact we were already pulling up to the valet and couldn’t turn around to have this argument made it that much worse.

He would be mad at me all night, giving me the cold shoulder and making me beg for just a morsel of affection. Emotionally, I couldn’t handle that.

“Nikki-”

“You can be the worst type of brat, Peach. The worst.” he was getting out of the car as I scrambled beside him, rushing inside as I grabbed his arm, trying to cuddle into him as we stepped inside so that I could at least be attached to him and make him love me.

Maybe this was all my fault. Maybe it was me that made it hard to love. Maybe this was all just part of who I was and Nikki had to go to someone else because of my short comings.

“C’mon, Peach, you’re being too clingy.” Nikki shrugged me off as I stood there, eyes narrowing in fury.

I had been so upset before all of this, tears burning in my eyes as I felt my hands go to my sides, tight balls as Nikki calmed himself down and moved his belongings from his jacket to his pants so he could check his coat. My foot came down in a hard stomp as he turned to look at me, my arms crossing as I glared ready to have a full meltdown. Nikki recognized this, I could see in his eyes he knew what was going on.

“Peach…” He was using his kid glove voice with me but I was too furious. Tears too close to falling out as I thought about the last few days and how close to the edge I had been to breaking. Now it was happening. I was being pushed over and I couldn’t stop the fall.

“I hate you.” The words came out so easy. It felt like I was purging something, an emotional release as I took a breath for the first time and tasted the air around us. The salt of my tears stinging my face as I looked at Nikki who seemed confused by what I was saying, “Did you hear me? I hate you.” I wanted him to hurt like I did. I wanted him to know what it was like to be cast aside and unwanted. I wanted him to regret ever hurting me and to understand I was a person who needed love and he wasn’t giving that to me.

I just wanted him to hear me. Just please, Nikki. Hear me.

He rubbed his beard, looking around like there was an audience around us instead of just the two of us hashing out something I should have dealt with already. Nikki’s hand rubbed his beard, a sign he was uncomfortable, trying to assess the situation and figure out what to do.

I wanted to scream and yell, really give him the scene he thought I was doing.

I wanted to talk to Ben about all the things I had been trying not to tell him. To give him the truth about just how trapped I felt. The guilt. Everything,

“You don’t mean that, Peaches and cream. Come here. I’m sorry, Peach. Come to daddy.” I looked at him, hurt that he could think that I was going to come to him.

What delusion was he living in thinking this was going to be okay? This was so far from being okay that I couldn’t comprehend him being okay with thinking otherwise. I shook my head at him, watching line lines appear on his face as he frowned at me. Angry like I was the one who was causing all these problems for us. Like it was me that had done this.

The anger flowed back in.

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate-“ Nikki pulled me to him like he had done a thousand times before. Trying to hold me through y tears as I let him hold me, to comfort me. His chest getting wet as I sobbed against him, thinking maybe he understood how mad I was. Maybe he could actually see I was hurting and he cared about that. Maybe he knew that I needed more than what he was doing and-

“You want me to spank you in front of all these people? Put you in your- FUCK!” My knee came up, right in his old man balls as I stepped back, thinking of cracking him in the skull with my fairy wand i was still holding.

Nikki would never change,

“I want you to fuck off.” I stepped away as he reached for me. He was angry now too. Good. I wanted him to be angry.

I had brought all the print outs, pulling them from my drawstring pouch and tossing them at Nikki who looked at them, at least having the sense to have shame across his features as he saw them.

“At least get creative with nicknames, Nikki. ‘My sour lemon girl’, ‘loved last night cherry girl’, and my favorite ‘see you soon, strawberries and cream’.” He was rubbing his face again. He wanted control of this situation, over me and he didn’t know how to get that. The fact he was seeking control over my comfort made me ache. “What is wrong with me, Nikki? What wasn’t I good enough? Why wasn’t I enough for you?” He tried to garb me again, knowing that I was touch starved for affection and that I would break down so easy if given a chance. I had to be stronger than him. I had to,  “I just wanted you Nikki. Just you and now. It’s too late. We need…we are…it’s…over.” The sobs took over so I couldn’t speak, wiping at my eyes as I looked at him.

He had broken me. I hope he was happy. I hope he was happy with what he had pushed me to.

“No, you can’t. Peach, they were just flings but you’re my girl, peaches and cream. You’re mine.” Nikki sounded confused, like he had thought that he could treat me like trash and expected me to just stay and say thank you.

I wasn’t going to stand around and be hurt any longer. I couldn’t do that when I had hope of happiness.

I had been ignoring him. Jesus Christ. What was I doing here. I needed to tell Sammie. I needed to find him. I needed to go. I need to…face Nikki.

“Oh Nikki. No. I’m nobodies. And I’m not Peach.” I shook my head, mind thinking of the several things I had circling through my mind.

Did I just break up with Nikki? Did I just do that? What the actual fuck was going on?

And where was Ben?

Ben POV

I was late to the party, which wasn’t something that wasn’t my fault. I had foolishly been waiting for a text that wouldn’t ever come from Sasha, who had been giving me the cold shoulder for the past two days. Nothing had happened and I didn't understand her pulling away.

‘I hope you’re here tonight. I want to talk to you. I miss you.’

Was I laying it on thick? Maybe. But I wasn’t going to back down on her. There was something about her that made me crazy. I knew I wanted to be in her life as more than just her texting buddy and I think Sasha knew it too.

Maybe she was inside already and I could meet up with her. If she wasn’t inside I was going to leave. I would sed her voice memos, make her playlists, keep reaching out as she shut off from humanity.

With Sasha on my mind, I was sliding past the coat room when I saw her. She was dressed in a tight green dress, her blonde hair piled in a neat bun. She was dressed like Tinkerbell which seemed oddly fitting to my Captain Hook. Nikki wasn’t dressed up as he went to go check his coat. Sasha was holding his arm like she wanted a cuddle.

“C’mon, Peach, you’re being too clingy.”Nikki shrugged her off as I watched her, all green with envy in her tinkerbell costume, looking like she was about to dissolve in tears. Instead she did a stomp, glitter flying like magic as Nikki turned to her, watching her pouty face and crossed arms. “Peach…” he was talking to her like she was a child in trouble.

Lurking in the shadows I watched her tantrum, the tears there showing real hurt as she sniffled her nose. She was going to break down.

“I hate you.” Neither of us expected that. I watched Nikki step back like she had assaulted him, Peach doubling down on tears that were now falling. “Did you hear me? I hate you.” Nikki looked around, rubbing his dyed beard to make sure no one was watching this.

I stepped further into the shadows, heart hammering as I watched them. I wanted to coddle and kiss her pout away. Never wanting to see her cry or be upset like this.

“You don’t mean that, peaches and cream. Come here. I’m sorry, Peach. Come to daddy.” The way she looked at him, neglected and hurt as he tried to softly talk to her, will her back into his arms and forget that she had just told him, twice, that she hated him.

But she shook her head. Her disobedience made him scowl and I was afraid things were going to get out of hand. I thought of approaching, whisking her away to diffuse the situation but maybe this was the confrontation she needed. Maybe Sasha didn’t need to be saved but she just needed to use her voice.

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate-“ Nikki pulled her to him, I watched her sobbing as he held her against his chest in a way that was so familiar, like he had it a thousand times before. My stomach churned with jealousy as I watched him get to touch and comfort her like I was yearning to do.. Her fairy wings were shaking as she tried to fight him off her.

“You want me to spank you in front of all these people? Put you in your- FUCK!” Her knee had come up and Nikki was bent over as she stood hands at her side, her fairy wand in a fist as she glared.

“I want you to fuck off.” Nikki’s eyes widened and he made a grab for her but she stepped aside, opening the purse she was carrying and going for what I thought was pixie dust but instead was paper. Nikki was covered with white fluttering pages, grabbing one and visibly paling as he read whatever was on the printouts..

She stood there, her eyes filled with tears as he looked at the papers and shook her head. She had been planning this, ready for a moment when she was feeling brace. And she was so brave.

“At least get creative with nicknames, Nikki. ‘My sour lemon girl’, ‘loved last night cherry girl’, and my favorite ‘see you soon, strawberries and cream’.” Nikki was rubbing his mouth collecting all the evidence of his infidelity that she was presenting him with. His expression was less of concern and more of a stoic damage control. No real emotion fluttering across his face. No regret seeping out.. “What is wrong with me, Nikki? What wasn’t I good enough? Why wasn’t I enough for you?” He was reaching for her but she was stepping back, “I just wanted you Nikki. Just you and now. It’s too late. We need…we are…it’s…over.” Her words broke her as he looked horrified at what she was saying, not being able to believe it was true.

He was hurt, there was no faking that.

I shouldn’t have been celebrating this but hearing her break up with him was the best feeling in the world. I was watching her free herself and watching her fly.

“No, you can’t.” He sounded broken, confused by this all, “Peach they were just flings but you’re my girl peaches and cream. You’re mine.” But she shook her head, looking at him somber as she stared at him not wavering in her beliefs.

How beautiful it was watching her have her own voice.

“Oh Nikki. No. I’m nobodies. And I’m not Peach.” She turned, Walking away, leaving a trail of glitter in her wake as I watched and waited.

Oh bloody  Hell.

Nikki didn’t chase her or follow her. He should have done that but he was wrestling with something. Looking from where his girl had just gone to the papers in his hand. A grimace on his face as he bunched them up. He headed for the door and I found that strange. Was he so confident that she would come back to him? Seeing what I had just seen I wasn’t sure that she was going to be able to.

I moved through the crowd, looking at Sasha as she sat at a bar, her friend Sammie by her side as the barkeep pushed a sugar free Red Bull at her and three clear shots.

“You don’t drink through you shouldn’t-“ whatever her friend was trying to talk her out of she wasn’t listening. Instead she was throwing back shots. One. Two. Three. Sipping her drink as she grimaced.

It was going to be a very interesting night.

“Peach-”

“Don’t ever call me that again.” there was poison in her words as she looked at sammie, her eyes married for a second before she softened and I watched her face fall, “Please, just…not that.” She was sighing, confused and hurt.

I needed to fix this.

“Well, Tink, fancy meeting you here.” she looked up at me, eyes shining as she shook her head. But there was a smile in her eyes despite her sorrow, “Did you steal my Peter Pan costume theme?” I teased her as she blushed, shaking her head with a smile peeking out.

I had never met her friend before, just knew her from what she told me. Understood how close they were from Peach’s late night phone calls where she would tell me her life story in all the detail.

“So we meet again, Hook.” She was flirting with me. Both of us were very aware of it., “Are you going to offer to buy me a drink?” I looked at the shot glasses and saw Sammie’s eyes narrow, hand going towards the swords that were on her back that I had a feeling weren't props.

“I thought you would want to dance.” She looked at me, head tilting to the side as she smirked, not having expected that from me. But I turned and looked at Sammie, “I’m Ben.”

“Bin Bons.” Sasha snickered at me and Sammie looked at her, eyes narrowing as she looked around for someone, “Can I get another three shots?” The bartender began pouring as she looked at us, “We’re going to make a toast together so you all need to drink with me.” she handed out the glasses, her eyes on mine, “I broke up with Nikki.”

“To new beginnings then.” I tapped her glass, both of us taking a shot, “Now can I get that dance?” I was trying to get her to stop drinking and just away from everything. I wanted her to be able to breathe.

“Excuse fucking me, what the actual fuck is going on here? What the fuck did I miss in the last ten minutes?” Sammie was looking between us as she threw her hands up at Sasha who looked at her. Whatever passed between them in that second made Sammie exhale, “Okay, no more Daddy Sixx. That is…something. But what is Billy Russo doing here?” he motioned to me like I wasn’t there and I knew that this wasn’t the time to talk about it.

“I’m here dancing.” I wrapped my arm around Sasha, pulling her out to the dance floor.

I wanted to ask her  if she was alright, check to see if there was anything that I could do but she was spinning, pressing her ass against me as she danced against me, leaning back as the lights bathed us in neon colors and she sought to forgot whatever was going through her mind.

And I knew better than to question anything. I just needed to dance.

Sammie POV

What the actual fuck was going on? What universe was I living in?

I watched Sasha grind against Ben Barnes, Nikki apparently being broken up with and- I needed to text Izzy the tea about my friend having a messy breakup He didn;t know Peach was dating Sixx because that's all I needed, him to think I was just in it for the old rockstar dudes. I needed to text him and let him know that my best friend had broken up with her boyfriend and was dancing with some younger actor because this was insane but…of course there were ten missed calls from Sixx. Of course he could come to me to make sure his girl was okay.

Maybe I had a smidge of misplaced loyalty to the oaf. But I couldn’t just answer a call from him. Instead I sent him a quick text  to see what he would say. I knew NIkki well enough to know he was good at talking his way out of the bullshit he got himself into.

‘You and Peach broke up?’

‘No. Peach is mad and thinks I cheated on her. She’s been acting weird for a few months. Is she okay?’

I looked up to see Peach grinding on someone, laughing and looking pretty happy. Was she okay or was this just a mask of how she felt? I didn’t know what to say to Nikki so I just didn’t respond, tucking my phone away as I sipped my drink. Peach was infamous for suffering in silence and then eventually she would clue me in on everything with all the details she had been omitting for months. She liked to have her plan laid out and completed.

And Nikki cheating seemed like exactly the sort of things she wouldn’t want to talk about. But that didn’t mean I didn't want to strangle her for so many changes in a short period of time. But if it wasn’t chaos was it really Peach?

Who was this guy who she was dancing with? Who she was flirting with? When did he come into the picture? Was she projecting Nikki cheating with her actually  cheating on him? It didn’t seem like Peach to cheat. But maybe that’s why she broke up with NIkki. Maybe she needed to actually get to live some of her 20’s before they were over.

God, I hope she didn't ask me how to use Tinder. I turned to the bartender, motioning them over.

“I’m going to need something stronger.”

Ben had a very drunk Peach on his back as he walked her down the street, feeling her breath against the back of his neck. Her soft hums as they moved making him smirk as he felt her cuddling against him some more. But he was also very aware of Sammie walking with them looking at them unsure of what was going on but nonetheless not liking it.

“I don’t feel good.” Sasha said as they continued walking on to her condo, “Are we going to your house?” she asked Ben, resting her cheek against his back as she let out a little yawn.

It was almost 4AM and they would have called an Uber if it wasn’t for Sammie assuring them Sasha would puke in a moving vehicle, which she had done pretty consistently everytime that she drank when she was younger. So to avoid the $200 dollar cleaning fee they had spent the last ten minutes walking or in Sasha’s case getting a piggyback ride.

“We’re going to your place.” Ben answered, turning towards her building as she made a sound.Her lips brushing the back of his neck and making Ben shiver as he let out a sigh.

He felt like he wasn’t going to make it through this. Peach was so drunk and extra touchy tonight and he had watched her laugh and be loud and open for the first time. He was eating it up, this happiness and laughter looking so good on her. Plus, the way she had looked when he had offered to give her a piggyback she had been so excited, squeezing his bicep and leaning to close as she asked if he was serious

“How do you know about her condo?” Sammie asked. She didn’t fully understand how much influence this man had on her friend yet and Sasha laughed at this like it was obvious.

“He buys my groceries.” Ben laughed at this, some secret joke that Sammie wasn’t included in, “Joy, Ben’s  a good guy. The worst thing he is going to do is judge you for leaving your teabag in your cup.” She yawned, resting her head against his back, closing her eyes as she hummed to herself.

Sammie watched Ben take off, running as Sasha laughed, throwing her arms out as he spun around. She thought of Izzy and how he would throw out his back if he did that. It would take weeks and a chiropractor  to fix her old man. Maybe that’s  why Peach was so excited. She was getting this younger person. But Sammie also hadn’t heard her laugh like this since they were kids.

Ben was running up the stairs with Sasha squealing on his back. Sammie cursed them both as she thought about shopping at his achilles with one of her swords.

Sasha was grabbing Ben’s hand, pulling him towards her bedroom. Her eyes on his as Sammie looked at them, shaking her head as she saw them.

“Are we all sleeping in the same bed?” Sammie asked. Ben looked up from where he was holding Sasha, his eyes on the blonde who was now dancing away towards the kitchen. She was barefoot and beautiful and Sammie stepped forward now that Sasha couldn’t hear, “She’s been with Nikki a decade.” She warned but ben shrugged his shoulders.

“And she could be with me for a lifetime.” he stepped away as Sammie shook her head, pulling out her phone and seeing all the missed texts and voicemails from Nikki. She couldn’t even imagine what Sasha’s phone looked like.

What a fucking shit show.

Peach’s POV

“Ben, am I going to be hungover in the morning?” I asked, looking over the edge of the bed where he was sleeping on the floor Sammie had made  a big point out of the fact we couldn’t sleep in the same bed, which I understood her point.

He looked at me, those dark eyes pulling me closer as he rolled onto his side, giving me a soft smirk. He had spent the last hour drinking water with me, sitting me on my bathroom vanity and washing off my makeup, talking so close to me than I thought our lips would brush if we pronounced a word with too much lip emphasis.I swirled around him, hungry for him as I floated, my drunk shifting to a buzz.

“I’ll take care of you.” The sunlight was stealing the darkness of the room, morning coming quicker than I had expected. It was the golden hour and as I looked down at Ben I was reaching, his fingers and mine, dancing around each other as we smirked, easy flirtation passing between us like nothing that I had ever experienced before. “Do you want me to sing you to sleep?” he asked as I let our pinkies tangle, holding hands.

“Do you think you could just come into bed with me and we’ll tell Sammie that it happened after we woke up?” He chuckled at me, the creased next to his eyes deepening as I watched him.

“If you want me in your bed when you wake up I’ll get in bed with you. Is that a deal?” I sighed, nodding at him, “Close your eyes, Sasha. Just try to get some sleep, darling girl.” His voice soothed me and I closed my eyes, ready to sleep now.

Nikki POV

The sun was up and Peach wasn’t home.

Had she been serious about breaking up with me? Was she really done?

I called her phone, wanting to slam down my phone when it went right to voice message. It was past her just not answering and now she was somewhere and I wasn’t sure where she was.  I was afraid for her, wanting to keep my girl safe.

I should have gone after her, Peach loves a scene like that. Loves to feel loved. But I had been so horrified being confronted with the evidence of my cheating.I felt sick to my stomach. I got a little attention and made the wrong decision again and again. Peach was my everything, put on this Earth to be my other half. She was the person who I’d wake up at 2AM and listen to me play the bass or hear about whatever project that I wanted to work on. She’d forget about how tired she was and tell me what she thought, giving me feedback and ask me how she could support me.

Peach was great at finding people who wanted to work with me. During the pandemic she had been the one who had talked with publishers and my manager, setting up Zoom interviews and updating my wardrobe so I was ready to face things.

She wasn’t just a needy brat, though I did love that side of her. Loved seeing her big pouts and feeling her crawl against me trying to find comfort in my arms. But she was smart in new ways and some things she would say things or have ideas that made me forget who she was, scared her big ideas weren’t going to have me in them.

And maybe her dreams had gotten too big. Maybe her dreams had stopped including me and she was just looking for an excuse to leave. Maybe it was less about me cheating and just that she was done and it's easier to have a big reason.

Could she have just been having a tantrum or could there be someone else.

“God, Peach, just come home.” I said, sighing as I stepped away from the window and moved towards the bedroom.

Each always came back to me. I would just need to wait.

[altschmerzes]

gang you would not believe the week i am having. extended explanation of my current nightmare under the cut. please understand this is also mid ramp-up to finals season at my second year of law school and still trying to find a summer student position which means one million cover letters and applications.

when i moved to canada i tried to import my car. i did this twice, once by calling a company before i left that does this professionally, and they were like oh don't worry about it. you're fine, you don't need to do anything. i get to the border and the man at the border tells me the same thing. don't worry about it. you're fine you don't need to do anything. i go to the dmv here to try and title my damn car because my registration is expiring and i need to do that. the woman who works there is like oh you needed to import it :) but also get your driver's license first, trust me. okay. i go through the hell process of getting my ontario license. i now have my ontario license. i need to get a safety inspection and two forms from border control. sure. i don't have the first fucking idea how to do this but i'm sure i can figure it out.

fastforward. i got in an extremely minor accident on wednesday. entirely my fault, i was slightly distracted for a moment in stop and go traffic and a like. spider in my sleeve or something bit my arm and i hit the wrong pedal. got a ticket, spent 90 minutes dealing with the cops including the part where one of the cops spent several minutes lecturing me about how he can and should seize my car on the spot because it's registered out of country and i live here and that's tax evasion. i explain that i have been trying to get this dealt with but everybody kept telling me i didn't need to do that or worry about it. he tells me that's not his problem. sure. not his problem. understood. this has now become a problem that Cannot Wait though.

so what do i need to do to get my car registered here? still need those pieces of paper. i can get the safety inspection done at any old canadian tire, which, sure. that's fine. word. so what about the border forms? well. i call the canadian border services agency. i sit on hold for a while, and eventually the man on the phone not only can't seem to fucking comprehend anything i'm saying at first, he then also tells me that the solution to my problem is to drive to the fucking us/canada border, go back to the states, then drive back immediately and get the form then. oh my gd.

so i did that. i make the two hour drive to niagara fucking falls and i tell the us border agent what i'm doing there and he's like you can't do that. you need to export it from the us first or you'll get a five thousand dollar fine. and i'm like. okay. thank you sir. have a nice night. thank gd they give me no issue returning on the canadian side. so i make the drive home. having achieved nothing. nobody has given me any actionable information and the only thing more confusing and complicated than importing a car for personal use in canada is exporting one from the united states. literally on the government website it says 'every export office operates differently' which made me almost collapse into tears when i read it.

last night i decided okay, tomorrow i am calling a professional import/export service to throw myself on their mercy and beg them to help me. i might need to leave the country for a few days to get this dealt with bc it's possible i can't export it except for from us soil. all i am trying to do is follow the rules and every single person at every juncture of this nightmare has given me different, conflicting information.

just had that phone call. the good news: i am not going to need to go to the states for several days to deal with this. some nice lady from a company who does this professionally is gonna do the paperwork for me and has found me apparently the only us/canada border crossing that will let me do the us export shit from this side of the border. the bad news: it is an even farther crossing than the one i drove to yesterday, and i’m gonna have to wait a couple days to do it and then do it immediately, which means missing more class than i already missed yesterday trying to do this. hopefully then it will be sorted.

[sevicia]

Today my mom told me to clear out the fridge so I went and started tossing anything expired into the trashcan til I got to the veggies and asked my mom like "Hey should I throw this out it's kinda squishy" or whatever and she just WOULD NOT ANSWER and kept telling me "But what do YOU think you should do .... ?" and I literally wanted to scream cause HOWWW does she not understand that I am just trying to CONFIRM WHAT I'M DOING. AND ASKING FOR PERMISSION!!!!!!!!! Which I told her!!! Like just thinking about it now is making me upset!!!!

And she just kept TALKING even when I went "Okay I'll just see for myself then" like she'd say "How can you NOT know this? Can't you think for yourself? Do I have to teach you how to do EVERYTHING? What are you gonna do once you live alone? Oh, I guess you don't need to worry about that since you don't even eat this stuff!" OH MY GODDDD. Like that's exactly why I'm asking you! I don't know how to do it, I don't do it often enough to remember, I'm asking you to teach me! You asked me to do it, so I wanna do it your way!

I was just kneeling in front of the fridge absolutely SEETHING like I did not truly know the meaning of that word til today. I wanted to take everything and throw it in the trash and tell her "It's all gone bad. I did it MY way, so if you think I did it wrong, just do it YOUR way instead"

And I don't know! I feel like most people would not get THIS frustrated and upset over something like this but I genuinely just could NOT understand her not understanding my reasoning and it made me wanna lash out! It's happened before when people just REFUSE to explain things to me even after I've asked them to (sometimes BECAUSE I've asked them to), like it makes me so confused and frustrated and UPSET that I just wanna scream as loud as possible!!!

I started stuttering again which I haven't done in like a solid MONTH (I think) but when I tried talking I just could not get the words out smoothly. I was so mad. I wanted to slam the fridge door shut and go to my room and slam that door as well and scream at her to please just fucking TRY to understand me for once the way I try my best to understand her every single day of my fucking life! But I just stayed on my knees and kept repeating "I am well-behaved I don't lash out" inside my head, which has been my go-to whenever I get too close to acting as angry as I feel, and now it's been HOURS and I'm a lot more calm but Godddd it's just so FRUSTRATING !!!!!

[gibbearish]

something kind of. bitter. abt tons of posts from about a month ago being like "anyone daring to even consider the words 'compassion fatigue/burnout' is a piece of shit for trying to assuage their own guilt over not paying as much attention as they should, much less telling OTHER people that it's ok to look away when it's not your place to say that because you're not the victims. 'wah wah my mental health' well at least you're not being bombed so you'd better be thankful you're not in their position. if you're not constantly tortured with graphic visions of genocide then you aren't actually doing your part" vs posts now being like "psa, if you're constantly being haunted by images you've seen and it's affecting your mood significantly, that's not normal and there's a word for that!" like. wow yeah damn if only someone had tried to warn people that this was a thing before it started to set in. such a shame no one did, oh well. and i know it's probably not the same people making those posts, but it still. Feels. and i know i've already made a post to this time before but idc the shift has put it back in my head so i guess take 2 on why i found this so annoying in the first place

it was always with a vibe of like, "this event is so horrible that the regular precautions to avoid compassion fatigue shouldn't apply, fixing it is more important." which. /is/ true in a sense, however those two things aren't actually related in the way that framing that way implies, paying attention doesn't actually /do/ anything concrete that would be lost by taking breaks from consuming news about this. there's the implication that the more people that pay attention, the more people in power will be forced to behave knowing that the world's eyes are on them. but like. this far in, they know everyone's eyes are on them by now, and have decided to proceed anyways. just kind of... looking at them harder isn't going to change anything. and also like.... "when the event is this horrible, why would you be thinking about that instead of putting them first"? because. the more horrible the event. the more. likely learning a lot about it will fuck you up? thats. that seems pretty obvious to me? like. there's more Shit For Your Brain To Torment You With 24/7 if more shit is being done and reported on. the worse something is, the worse it'll make you feel to spend all your time thinking about. yes, some people will be ignoring it because they genuinely don't care, but that doesn't automatically mean the ONLY way to care is to Pay Constant Attention No Matter What.

and like. yes, we should do all we can to help palestinians, but some people act like because we're not being killed and they are, we owe it to them to take on as much of that trauma as we can by proxy? like since we aren't having to go through the actual thing, any negative affects we go through can never compare and are therefore irrelevant, and we should instead only be thankful it's not happening to us. i've said this before but it feels very much like the old "finish your vegetables, there's kids starving in africa" thing parents would say, where it's like. ok, i get that the sentiment behind what youre expressing here is "you should take care to be thankful for things you take for granted, because there are people out there suffering without this," but theres always an implicit "and if you don't use yours right, you're hurting those people by wasting what they could've used" when that just !! doesn't actually follow after the first part, that is not the conclusion you should draw there!!! i would obviously give my leftover vegetables to someone else sooner than throw them away but until warp technology is cracked i am limited by things like distance and expiration dates and stable temperature zones, and i would obviously give my leftover Not Being Bombed to every palestinian if i could but until The Way Reality Works is cracked i am limited by. yknow. the way reality works. abstract concepts like that just arent transferrable without a LOT more direct involvement than just. looking at some posts or not.

and i think that's the crucial thing that bugs me abt both of these is not just that the conclusions they offer are wrong and manipulative, but that the /premise themselves/ are, and they take something HUGE for granted, which is "the thing i want you to do is Right and will Work, therefore i'm justified in forcing you to do it, regardless of any discomfort this causes as it will still have a net positive impact." eating your vegetables is Good for you, so forcing you to eat more when you don't want them is justified, and your reasons for not wanting them don't matter. palestinians have asked us to keep reading and sharing their posts because it helps them, so shaming people for not wanting to is justified, and their reasons for not wanting to don't matter. nevermind that overeating can be bad for you and children are indeed capable of telling when they're full or of having slightly smaller stomachs than the serving sizes their parents dish up, nevermind that they can have food sensitivities or even just /dislike the flavor of something/ and we don't force adults to finish foods they know they dislike, nevermind that compassion fatigue was already an existing concept long before this, nevermind that this is The Mental Illness Website, nevermind that reblogging a bunch of posts with graphic videos that will keep you up all night and be filtered by half your followers anyways doesn't stop fucking BOMBS. it's all we can do, nevermind that it's largely symbolic, therefore if you're not doing it for ANY reason, you are Bad. so do what i say in order to be Good even if it hurts you. it's just such a manipulative, PATRONIZING way of going about things that it just grates at me every time.

[itsmeridadunbroch]

Task Eleven → Intro & Connections

merida dunbroch

Character Information*

The Basics*

FULL NAME: merida dunbroch

NICKNAME: mer, red

GENDER: female

PRONOUNS: she/her

AGE: twenty-nine

OCCUPATION: manager at the redwood hollows parks and recs department

FACECLAIM: riley keough

ORIENTATION: straight

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single

PETS: a horse called angus and a dog named mordu

The Personality*

+ Adventurous, Determined, Independent 

-  Rebellious, Stubborn, No-Nonsense

after arriving in redwood hollow, merida found a role in the parks and recs department. she’s spent her time restoring the town’s parks and other areas that needed a new lease of life and it brought her more happiness  than home ever could. merida is adventurous and determined to be her own person which can lead to her being stubborn at times in the face of  authority and can have her rebellious streak rear its head. like a true scotswoman she doesn’t take any crap from anyone.

merida is a child of the wild, she always has been. she thrives outdoors and has always been someone that bends the rules. fun is a big part of her personality and if she’s not having it then buckle up. freedom is another. merida really exercises her freedom and hates being put into a box or being bossed around and told what to do.

Additional Notes*

has a strained relationship with her mother, she hasn’t spoken to her in years

strong scottish accent present in her voice – may be hard for people to understand at times, especially when she’s angry.

has triplet younger brothers – harris, hubert & hamish

doesn’t speak bear

Wanted Connections*

friends

ex’s

neighbours

work colleagues

lover/crush

besties

hiking buddies

buds from scotland

people she met while travelling

rich people - her family are rich af and merida has likely met them at past events

Wanted Plots / Plot Ideas*

merida and ____ are friends. neither of them have had much luck with relationships so they decide to platonically begin to hookup. it’s fun to explore and get experience with each other without all the expectations and pressure. however, they both start to develop feelings over time, and both assume it’s unrequited.

here one day, gone the next - a previous international relationship where merida was travelling and lived for some time she met _____. the relationship was all consuming and full of sparks, but eventually merida had to go back to scotland a few months later. ______ wanted to try long distance but merida had called things off and was gone the next day. now she’s settled in redwood hollow and look who else is in town, it’s only _____. ((a plot about differences, a whirlwind past relationship, angst of leaving, unresolved feelings and being forced to revisit, relive and resolve said past relationship)) 

we’re the Old Married Couple™ but lmao no we would never date each other. right? right?????!!!?

before sunrise - strangers meet, they have a connection, but it has an expiration date

“i found your box of letters underneath my bed last night and because i’m a nosy motherfucker i decided to read them and it turns out they were all addressed to me and the last one was dated the day you moved out and i’m not quite sure why i thought this would be a good idea but here i am, standing on your doorstep, wondering why the fuck we’re not together anymore”

an arranged marriage between the dunbrochs & ______ family. but like merida’s clearly being stubborn and rebellious and fucking up because she’s upset with her parents still trying to control her life and it’s just two polar opposites but it could be super cute sometimes when she gets super drunk and he picks her up and hold her hair back when he throws up and stays up to give her a glass of water and make sure she sleeps well even though he has a huge meeting in the morning that he should be resting for, and she makes him lil packed lunches for work and has him dancing in the living room to de-stress and holds court at his works parties winning over his boss to give him that promotion but also the angst and the fights and the ‘i didnt ask for this’ and making each other jealous and sexual tension.

Taken Connections*

tbh all merida’s taken connections have now left the rp so she’s wide open for her to get on the map

Other*

One character from the open tag you would like to see taken / added to the Most Wanted page -  from the most wanted page - the lost boys & from the open tag to be added to the most wanted page - sebastian clarke

One Character you want to see a bio for in relation to this specific character - more brave characters #scotlandrepresentation 

[despair-to-future-arcs]

Hey teach you know Hope's peak will just cover up your beat down right? after all even if Nagi did come from the Reserve Course something tells me she holds more value than you.

[X]

Wh-What...? I... I was beaten up and... what... what happen...?!

Wait... Nagi, she was the one that beated me up, didn't she?! That brat! I will get my revenge... *gets into the classroom and Nagi stood at the front of the class*

Oh why hello miss, your up and about - you slept well?

You... how dare you speak to me with that tone?! You have no right to talk to me and for that I will make sure you pay for what you did to me! *rushes over to grab Nagi by the neck but then...*

*suddenly comes out and decks the teacher* TAKE THIS YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING BITCH!

GAAAH! HO-HOW DARE YOU FUYUHIKO, YOU DARE TO STRIKE ME YOU-!

*Pulls a sword at the teacher's neck* Say one more thing and I'll chop your head off...

!!!

So... want to continue on speaking back to me? Remember I am yakuza and I could very well kill ya with a snap of a finger if I want...!

Should I break your fingers, maybe get you to the fucking whore house or should I deal with you myself; many choices...

N-No! Please none of those, I swear I won't do anything!

*As then she gets slap across the face*...

You plan to run away now? Hmph and here I thought I was scared of you...

YOUR FULL OF SHIT LADY, YOU KEEP GOING ON AND ON ABOUT FOCUSING ON MY TALENT - YOU'VE HURT MY BEST FRIEND AND DID SO MUCH TO SCREW WITH HER; I KNOW YOU HATED HER, I KNOW IT!

Ma-Mahiru... think for a moment...!

About what? Letting you stomp all over me, hurt my class and keeping pushing things down...well...!

Then maaaaybe I should start taking some photos of your day that you get publicly shamed by everyone here as you did all of us? I bet the public will love it!

Wh-What...?!

*suddenly an egg gets thrown at her* Wh-Wh-What...?!

*Suddenly more food gets thrown at her by Byakuya, Ibuki and Teruteru*!!!

Keep throwing them, aim at this horrid teacher!

*throws egg after egg* Man, this is totally a good look for you teach!

STOP... PLEASE!!!

*Suddenly flour was dump on her* ...!

Hmm, let's see now I got eggs, flour and I think I'm missing a few more things...

Ah yes yes, I remember; sugar, milk, butter, white sugar and vanilla extract - that be perfect for a cake!

*brings out milk and pours it on her* But darn, seems the milk is expired... clumsy me! My apologies teacher but yet again, I expect this cake to taste horrible!

...

[j-rants-reviews-random-stories]

Andy Grey and the Abbott Mansion Murderer (Part 1)

I had always prided myself on being analytical and cool in the face of fear and danger, but when I was confronted with the real possibility of being trapped in a house with a murderer, that cool facade flew out the window.

“I only write about murder! I don't want to be part of a real murder! I’m too young to die!”

“Diane, you are 70 years old, I’m pretty sure you're past your expiration date”

“What do you know about expiration dates Carl? Your stories expired on the shelves years ago, it's a wonder you were even invited to this convention,”

“I’m pretty sure the only reason people were invited to this was so the coordinator could slowly pick us all off one by one,” I pipe up frantically, in hopes to get the others to shut the fuck up so I could think.

After being a murder mystery novelist for the past 15 years I was thrilled to be invited to this convention, with the chance to meet some of the best writers from the past 50 years, but a couple of things kind of ruined that.

The hurricane that is cutting off all cell service.

The corpses that began showing up.

There had originally been 10 of us at the convention, now only 5 of us were left, potentially 6, but there is a chance that if the sixth is alive, they aren’t on our side.

“And what would you know, I hadn’t even heard of you before coming to this convention, what could you possibly know about murder and the motives of a murderer,” mutters Carl, who I was quickly beginning to despise as the night went on.

“Just because you haven’t heard of me doesn't mean shit,'' I spit at him. “There are 4 bodies and 1 person missing right now, I don't think you should be focusing on how little recognition I've had over the years, maybe more on finding out who is killing us and why they want to do this! In case you haven't noticed, we are trapped here with no cell service until the hurricane calms down which isn’t likely to happen for at least another 12 hours,” I continue. Carl looks ashamed at his actions.

Diane quickly steps in and adds “Yes, but don’t we already know who’s doing it? It's obviously the person that went missing - their body is the only one that hasn't turned up yet, so they are the most likely suspect,”

“Not necessarily,” I reason with her. “Isn’t it the first rule of a murder mystery to throw off the detectives, to create a red herring?”The other four in the room murmur their agreement

“I suppose you're right,” replies Emerson in a quiet voice. She is the only one close to my age, being the youngest here at 22 and me being 28.

Both Emerson and I started writing out murder mystery stories at a young age, catching the attention of publishers before we each reached 18. Before that I had only had recognition on small blog posts as a writer, until I hit the big tims. After my first novel that sold however I was struggling to keep up with sales and demand for new books. This struggle to keep up with popular demand over the years is what made me skepctical of my invitation to the convention at Abbott House.

Many rumours circulated for years, inspiring many of the famous mystery writers invited to the convention, especially Diane.

So far this evening 4 bodies have been found, all displayed the same way as the Abbot family was; throats slashed and a rose stuck in the open stab wound through their hearts. The first victim was found after everyone heard a shrill scream around 11pm, at which time most of us were in our assigned guest rooms. The victims tonight were Christina Stewart, a 45 year old writer who had been topping sales charts for the past 20 years. Colin Dawson, a 37 year old writer from the south who was well known for his detective series inspired by Agatha Christie’s Poirot novels, Luna Harkin, 53 years old from Spain, who specialized in amateur detective novels, and lastly the body of Chadwick Bradbury was found, 68 year old writer who was famous in his prime for his gruesome stories based in the 50’s about women being slain for their organs.

All found dead within an hour, and nobody knows who did it.

[celestial-choc0late]

Well it keeps happening so maybe it’s what I deserve. Maybe I’m boring. Maybe I’m damaged. Perhaps I reek of insecurity. Maybe I complain too much. Maybe I love too deeply and it scares people away..maybe I smile too hard. Maybe I’m too dark. Maybe I’m not worthy of love.

I’m just the place holder. The guilty pleasure. The play thing to be used up and left for dead once your true love has arrived. The unwanted. Undesirable. Never enough to be kept.

I listen to other girls talk about how easy it is to have someone. How their dms are constantly riddled with the opposite sex, desperately throwing themselves at them. But when they speak, they don’t understand that it’s not all of us.

And I knew you would embarrass me. I already knew I had an expiration date. It’d happened before. But you forced me to throw my boundaries away and post pictures of us. I told you why I didn’t want to and immediately my fears came to life. We never had peace in our relationship. Well atleast I never did. And when you apologized, AFTER we broke up, I couldn’t help but feel impossibly more resentful. For years, you hurt me and you apologize to get your healing? You apologize in hopes if not experiencing karma with the new girl you started crushing on before we even broke up….but it was my fault. I should have had the guts to leave. I should have left before you pushed me..

And here you are, on girl 2..or 4…who knows. How can you be at peace with that?

Me, I’ve driven deeper into my lack of self worth. Sex can be nice, but I use it as a tactic. I don’t want to do it but I do it anyway. It’s to feel vindicated. It’s a form of self harm…I know he doesn’t want me and it won’t work out in the end. I know there will be an ending day. But it’s something. At least for a moment I can pretend someone feels somthing for me, even if it truly means I’m nothing more than a fucking pit stop for them.

At work I’m often asked, “why are you so happy”. I’ve just perfected smiling. If I let my true emotions show, I’d probably be hospitalized.

[come1nalone]

Adult children of neglect, are you eating well?

Following up the previous post I made-

This post will be focusing on your relationship with food, how to feed yourself, and general tips for adult people who’ve grown up with neglectful caregivers and as a result feel like reading a brief on food related topics will be beneficial to them.

When I was both 12, and 15, I had pretty bad eating disorders. To the point where I had eaten 500~ calories a day, made myself throw up 3-7 times a week, and have resorted to eating in ways that are very disordered. I had gone on several mono diets, consisting of eating only vegetables or fruits, for days on end. It was very hard to do anything. My energy was very low, my heartbeat was irregular, I lost my period for a year and a half. Shit was fucking rugged as hell.

My parents hadn’t noticed my eating disorders. In fact, me and my brother had to make food for ourselves starting at around 8 years old, and when I was 12 I had full “freedom” and responsibility in making myself food and making sure I had eaten well.

It was very very hard for my younger self to keep up with this responsibility. I really needed an adult to make sure I was eating enough and to cook for me but the adults in my life were busy, neglectful, and couldn’t be there for me sadly.

As a result I got a shitty relationship with food. I wanted to make this post bc I know that if it’s hard for me, fs there are people out there who need this help.

What amount of food is “enough”?

This is a great question! Sadly the only person who can really know, is you. A good rule of thumb has to be eating 3 meals a day, but everyone eats differently, so as long as you’re being attentive to your body’s needs you should be well. Consult with a GP if you have access to one.

How do I know if I’m hungry?

It gets hard to tell when you’ve been neglected. You often learn to ignore your inner cues. However, the simple method to re-gain these abilities is via mindfulness- being aware of your body and how it feels. Some common signs of being hungry, would be thinking about food, having a bit of an odor coming out of your mouth, feeling a bit weak or lightheaded, feeling your stomach rumbling, or just feeling weird things in your upper tummy haha. Also having a light headache. Everyone’s bodies are different, so try your best to learn and be attentive of your own cues.

What should I even be eating?

If you grew up in an environment of neglect, you may have skewed ideas of what a balanced diet should look like. It’s ok! There’s nothing wrong with having such thoughts. But you should make an active effort on improving your eating habits. You deserve to feel well, and eating well is a very important step in the direction of improving how you feel.

I would advise you to read about it, do some research. But the best advice has to be going to a dietitian or consulting with a doctor of course. At the very least: do some reading and make sure you haven’t missed out on important information about nutrition.

Is it ok to eat food that has “gone bad”?

You don’t have to eat food that has gone bad, even if you had to as a kid. You should aim for minimal food waste whenever possible, but sometimes things go bad, and it’s ok to throw them out. You would be hurting yourself by eating food that has expired or gone bad.

Is it ok to comment on other peoples eating habits?

This is an important one fr!! I’ve grown up in a house where comments about what you eat are very very common. However note that a lot of people may take offense if you make a lot of comments about their eating habits. I suggest refraining from making comments about how other people eat, even if it seems normal to you, it might hurt some people quite a lot.

However- a lovely gesture is asking your friends if they’ve eaten, because that one shows love and doesn’t come off as judgmental. It’s normal and healthy for people to eat together, and sometimes it’s even considered polite to wait for others to start eating their food before you’ve started to eat your food. Or even, sit with other people while they eat, just to keep them company. These are things that may seem weird- but in my personal experience, they’re quite common. You might even enjoy these things.

How do I prepare ahead with food? When should I carry food in my bag?

It’s better to carry a little snack with you if you’re in doubt. Think ahead: how many meals would I have eaten in this time frame, if I were at home?

If you’re uncertain, you may want to see what other people are doing and “copy” their behavior- this has helped me at several times.

I hide food, and prefer eating in secret.

This is normal if you’ve experienced neglect. However- know that as an adult, things are different for you. You don’t need to eat in secret. The danger is over- you don’t have to live in fear because your childhood was terrible. Gently try and break free of these beliefs. It’s best to consult a therapist.

That’s all for today folks- feel free to correct anything and add your own prompts. Sending love to all of you in recovery.

[pansyslut]

truth or dare

reader x ginny x pansy

summary: things get heated when you, ginny, and pansy end up playing strip truth or dare at your sleepover

warnings: smut obv- mentions of hermione and reader, pansy is a lil possessive, stripping, thigh riding, use of pet names (bunny, momma), degration, praise, teasing, oral, choking, slightly dom reader x dom pansy x sub ginny, aftercare (pansy being the best dom ever)

a/n: pansy is literally my bi awakening... anyways i’d do a part two if people wanted. maybe hermione can join next time :)

flashback in italics

you didn’t mean for ginny to end up grinding on your thigh it just sort of happened. you, her, and pansy all decided to have a sleepover and eventually ended up playing truth or dare. whoever did not want to do their truth or dare had to strip. thus, ending up with you and ginny grinding on each other.

with her getting herself off on your thigh, her knee was pressed into your throbbing pussy practically screaming for attention. pansy lay behind you with you laying your back on her chest as she played with your breasts.

“okay, truth or dare ginny” pansy said with an evil look in her eye. when she had replied with truth, pansy said, “it is true you fancy the golden boy? everyone can see it.” ginnys face heated up instantly and all three girls knew what pansy was doing. she knew there was no way that ginny would answer the question so she would have to strip of a piece of clothing. with ginnys face as red as a tomato, she lifted up her shirt revealing her red lace push up bra.

“okay next,” ginny started trying to move on from the topic, “y/n truth or dare?” she asked giving a knowing look to pansy. “um, truth.”

“is it true that you and granger have expiremented with each other?” she asked. gulping, you remember back to when hermione had asked you not to tell anyone. the last thing you would want to do is out the girl. lifting your shirt you stare back at the two girls obviously looking at your chest. “a lady never kisses and tells,” you say shrugging.

“pansy, truth or dare” you state.

“dare”

“i dare you to admit how many times you’ve touched yourself imagining you were with malfoy,” you say smirking. earning a laugh from ginny beside you, pansy scoffs muttering, “nosey whores,” as she lifts her top. none of you planned for what was happening tonight but you all happened to be wearing lingerie. you were internally thanking yourself for your choices when you were getting dressed earlier.

“y/n, truth or dare” pansy glares back at you, obviously still slightly mad over your previous question.

“dare”

“i dare you to give ginny an orgasm. you pick how.”

so now you lay in pansy’s arms while ginny bounces atop of you chasing after her orgasm. her breasts bouncing in your face wasn’t helping your pulsing predicament down south. deciding to help the girl, you slide your middle finger into her red laced panties and start circling her clit.

“fuck just like that, y/n”

pansy kisses under your ear, talking just above a whisper, “look at our bunny humping you like a little needy whore.” she says as you both snicker. ginny stayed humping your hand, unbothered by you and pansy’s teasing, only trying to claim her release.

you look up at ginny and you can tell she’s almost reached her climax. circling her clit faster, she pants and whimpers ever louder. “please momma i need to cum,” she says letting the nickname slip from her tongue.

you were a little taken back but was turned on by it nonetheless. turning to whisper in pansy’s ear, “do you think she should be able to cum, pans? do you think she’s imagining this is pottahs hand? naughty girl i would say,” you tease shaking your head. ginny whines more and starts shaking her head, “no momma i’m only thinking of you. fuck, your hand feels good.”

ginny throws her head back and moans you and pansy’s names then falls limp on your chest. rubbing her back, you kiss her temple as pansy runs her fingers through her hair. after a few minutes pansy speaks up, “gin, don’t you think you should help y/n cum? it’s the least you could do after practically begging for her.”

ginny nods her head eagerly and starts kissing down your neck. luckily, all three girls were only left in undergarments after the game so she didn’t have to waste time undressing you. still laying against pansy’s chest, ginny kisses her way down to your center. peppering kisses on your inner thighs and on your pussy that was still covered with your panties.

sliding off your underwear, she licks between your folds teasingly. with one leg laying on her back, you dig your heal into it as to tell her to go on with it. letting out a giggle, you feel her hot breath on your pussy making you arch your back.

after kissing your clit multiple times, she fucks you with her tongue. grabbing her hair into your hand and pulling it away from her face, you can’t help but admire ginnys tongue. you didn’t think the girl had done this before but merlin it sure felt like she had.

“mommy your pussy tastes so good,” she says pausing momentarily and then going back down again. with pansy massaging your breasts and ginnys face shoved into your center, you start feeling hazy.

pansy nibbling your ear, “ginny, look at our pathetic little girl. she’s a needy little thing isnt she? hermione probably never touched or ate her out like this,” she says while possessivly wrapping a hand around your throat.

pansy grabs one of your hands with the one hand not wrapped around your throat and pulls it away from it bunched up in ginnys hair, pinning it down at your side. “don’t be greedy. bunny will give you what you deserve.”

with ginny lapping your clit and pansy’s hold on your throat, you knew you were about to cum. your entire body felt like it was buzzing and you felt euphoric. “oh look bunny, your momma wants to cum. y/n looks so fucking deprived at the way her legs are gripping onto you. obviously ‘mione didn’t do the job well enough but she’s absolutely falling apart around you.”

finally reaching your climax you arch your back as your ankles dig into ginnys back and pansy squeezed harder on your throat. laying limp against pansy, ginny lifts her head from your center and starts licking up your cum. licking up the last of it from your thighs, she’s careful not to hit your sensitive clit. plunging two fingers into you, she pulls them out and reaches over to pansy. “taste how yummy.”

watching pansy’s tongue swirl around pansy’s fingers you feel more arousal ball up in your stomach as she moans. letting go of her fingers, she looks down at you smirking. leaning to ginny, she grabs her chin and shoves it in your direction. “look at how fucked out your mommy is, you did so good,” she says praising ginny.

you felt a little bad that you never made pansy cum but she was right... you were fucked out and barely staying awake. feeling pansy lift you from her chest and lay you down on the bed, she starts moving around the room. you feel her cleaning you and ginny up softly, trying not to further awake you in your sleeping state.

she turns off the light and climbs in next to you and ginny as you all wrap arms around each other. eventually, your breathing synchronizes and you all take in the moment of being wrapped up in each other’s arms.

part two ->