#👻NTIGISOG

[finalgirlkateausten]

Grace + “I feel you, no matter what”

since this is going to be a whole Ordeal of a fic, I thought I would post the moodboard for it here 👻 CW for injury, brief mention of blood, and references to unhealthy relationship dynamics

"Grace!" She's in the master bathroom, dabbing neosporin on the superficial cuts on her knuckles. The one on the side of her hand is deeper, though, and when she pulls the wad of folded toilet paper away again, dark red blood soon oozes down her wrist. She curses as another few drops join the stain on her jeans. "Grace, what the hell happened?" She looks up as her husband appears in the doorway, panicked in a rather endearing way. From the way he'd been yelling for her, she guesses he can answer his own question. "Punched a mirror," she says with a shrug. Charles gapes at her, shaking his head slightly before he steps closer to her, grabbing the hand towel from his side of the sink and pressing it against the gash on her hand. "Yeah, I saw," he mutters. "What'd you do that for?" When she tries to answer, just thinking about it makes her throat feel like it's closing, so she does some square breathing instead, staring over Charles' shoulder. His free hand is warm on her thigh, his thumb stroking back and forth over the denim of her jeans. "Gracie," her husband asks, "what's the matter?" She leans forward, resting her chin on his shoulder. His hand moves to her hip. "Midterms are gonna be brutal this year," she mumbles. It's his turn to sigh at her. "I'm gonna need a little more than that." "Did I ever tell you the full story, of the one and only time I dated on the campaign trail?" She reaches her good hand up to the back of his neck, her fingers scratching through his hair. "Uh, just that he was older than you, and he was a dick," Charles answers. She can hear the trepidation in his voice. "He was also married," Grace admits, her cheeks flaming. "And I should've known better, but--" the old humiliation is threatening to drown her again, and her words fail her mid-sentence. "I recovered from what he did. I moved on. Somehow." "That was so long ago," Charles murmurs, still confused. He hasn't put the pieces together, and why should he? A lot of people have spent a lot of time and money ensuring it's not an easy connection to make. "Doesn't feel like it," Grace huffs. "Not now that he's running for senate."

↣ now that i'm grown, i'm scared of ghosts