#and was getting stressed about cleaning and stuff

[neuvilette-tea-party]

｡ﾟ•┈୨ Le temps de guérir Part 1 ୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Steb x F!reader

The herald's grip just released and all the Medics organize helps to all the wounded, you are no exception. That's when your dear Mentor reappears, wounded, disoriented, and definitely mute...

Tags: angst, pining, Steb definitely has guilt and PTSD, slow burn, trust the process

Request open for Best boy Steb <3

“There...” You judge with a voice you want comforting, “Your wounds are minor.” You tidy up your utensils in your pouches, infinitely relieved that your mentor is okay. The wounds were impressive but superficial.  

Steb was your mentor for almost two years, teaching you medicine in warzones and you grew incredibly attached to the aquatic Vastaya Enforcer. Too attached for a simple Mentor/protegé relationship to be honest, but you keep it professional. Steb never appeared inclined to try relationships other than cordial and friendly with his colleagues and kept his private life a secret. 

For all you know, he could be happily married with a large family and you would be none the wiser!   

But when you saw the blood on his blue jacket while he was helping a wounded civilian to reach the infirmary tents, you almost dropped everything to rush to him. You managed to grab his arm at some point to force him to sit down and let you examine his body. You disinfected and dressed the wounds cautiously, making sure not to cause him pain in the process. He let you do it, in his usual mutism. 

But he is... more silent than usual. 

His muscles are also hard, contracted like under a lot of tension that he cannot get rid of. You refrain from proposing a massage, not that you would mind, but he is more modest than the usual civilian, he would probably not tolerate such contact. 

Fair enough. 

You check the bandages one last time, standing behind him, silencing your beating heart. This is the first time you see him without a shirt and you wish it would have been in other circumstances…You gently pat his naked shoulder. 

“There you go, Steb.” You say warmly. 

He turns his head towards you and contemplates your face in silence. You thought he was about to say something but he just... looks at you, mute, detailing all of your face so intensely you do not know what to do under such scrutiny. 

“Hum.... Is there a problem?” You finally ask, your throat dry before his gaze. 

He blinks, like he realized he was fixing you and slowly shakes his head, his gaze returning to the ground, but he takes your hand holding his shoulder in his, and squeezes it as to say thank you. 

“You are welcome Steb.” You warmly say, still a bit shaken. 

You take off your hand and it seems to you he tries to hold it back... 

But that must be your delusion speaking. 

“Do you hold on?” You ask, turning your back to him to observe your two hands covered in dead scales. 

His organism has evidently been put through a lot of stress. You wash them and make some order on the table, putting the soiled instruments in a sink while the sterilized ones return in a large drawer. 

You only hear a deep sigh in response. Understandable. Everything happened so quickly... Ambessa’s army, the herald,... That freaky mind stuff they did, still gives you shivers down your spine. But as soon as your mind was freed from the Herald’s influence, all the medics started to organize themself, rushing to the victims despite their own wounds and fears. You have been running in all directions for almost 24 hours by now and only now did you cross paths with your dear aquatic Vastaya...  

You turn back to your mentor, cleaning a scalpel with an alcoholic wipe. 

“What about Maddie and Loris?” You ask, “I did not see them anywhere.” 

A single shudder courses him and his shoulders lower like all strength left him, elbows resting on his knees he passes a hand in his hair with another sigh. 

Oh... 

You leave the scalpel to the side and pull on the tent’s opening to close it, giving you a bit of intimacy. You come kneeling in front of him, trying to catch a glimpse of his turquoise gaze. 

“Steb...” You try, “Do you want to talk about it?” You offer soflty. 

His nostrils flare in a clear no. Whatever happened, he isn’t willing to talk about it, at least not now... Or just not to you... 

You boldly caress his cheek, making him angle his head towards you. So many emotions lay in his blue eyes 

Confusion 

Pain 

tenderness 

Shame 

Embarrasment 

Sadness 

You offer him a gentle and supportive smile. 

“Whatever happened... It was not your fault, Steb.” You say gently. 

You know nothing of what happened, but you know for a fact that Steb always does good and tries his best all the time. 

You know it in your soul. 

His pupils widen at your words and his cheek scales wave a single time as his ears perk up, proof of his inner turmoil. 

“It was not your fault, I know it.” You repeat in a whisper, giving him your undying support. 

He lets out a short breath, like he was holding it all this time, and his own hand clasps around yours, brushing his cheek in your palm softly. He seems to savor the contact and your words like it was everything he wanted to hear. 

The only words he desperatly needed to hear to go on. 

You stand up, looking into his ocean eyes, drowning with pleasure in his intelligent gaze, your thumb brushing his cheek scales fondly. 

“And if anyone dares say it is your fault, I’ll personally handle them, you can count on me.” You grin tightly, trying to make him smile too. 

Steb considers you before slowly closing his eyes and brushing his cheek in your palm before pulling your hand to his lips and tenderly kissing the supple flesh like a precious relic. 

You open your mouth agape at that move and before you can take off your hand he stands up too, towering with all his height, looking down at you, and takes a step forward. 

Caught unaware you take a step back and he follows until your lower back hits a table, blocking you between the furniture and Steb’s tall body. He did not release your hand and his own comes to cup your cheek infinitely softly, caressing the skin with the tip of his magical fingers like he would brush the petals of a rose. 

“...Steb?” You ask with a dry throat, unsure of what came over him. 

He details... 

No 

Devour your face with his eyes, pressing his body against yours, gently tilting your head back as he leans forward, brushing the tips of your noses together... 

Your breath gets stuck in your throat while his cheek scales wave and his ears shake, tension coursing his muscles like a dark ocean, keeping you on your toes. He looks deeply into your eyes like he could read your soul through them, his third eyelid blinking once. 

He seems to wait for something 

From you 

Your consent  

Obviously. 

Your brain completely blue screens, leaving you absolutely useless between his hands.  

What the hell is happening? Your mentor, about whom you’ve been fantasizing a romantic life with for two years, the man you headcannoned was already married, the man you ardently desired and thought was dead during the attack before reappearing like a flower, wounded but alive, awaits your permission to kiss you? 

Your trembling free hand discreetly pinches the skin of your thighs, making you wince and realize that no, you are not dreaming nor hallucinating this scene... 

This 

This is all you ever wanted 

To know his embrace and warmth against your body, to feel his beating heart against your palm, his hands roaming your skin, his lips brushing yours and his eyes telling you all the love no words on the planet could ever describe... 

Waking up in his arms and eating breakfast together, going to work hand in hand and waiting for the other at your favorite café, go back to the same house you both call home, but it always feels empty and cold in the other’s absence... 

You must have hit your head in the attack 

This is the only logical explanation. 

He never demonstrated inclinations toward you. Sure he relaxed enough around you to let the stoic mask slip occasionally, but this is so incredibly rare, you are no closer to him than Maddie or Loris. 

He... 

“Steb, no.” You finally breathe after a difficult gulp. 

His eyes round up slightly as his cheek fins freeze still. 

“Steb, you must be in some sort of shock. You are wounded and disoriented, you do not know what you are doing.” You continue, “Sleep for a bit, I’ll bring you a warm meal after, all right? You... You need to rest.” 

This is for the best. 

He doesn’t know what he is doing, he might regret it later!  

You are his former protege and friend, this is not like him. 

Out of respect for him, you must stop this madness. He is in no state to consent himself. 

He considers you, shock appearing in his turquoise eyes as his breath gets stuck in his throat. His ears lower as he takes a step back, letting his hands fall back to his side and you cannot help but feel like one of you two made a huge mistake right now. 

But you can’t say who. 

You force your mouth into a friendly smile and gently guide him back to sit on the bunk. 

“There... Take a nap, I’ll bring you something to eat, you must be starving. Lay down, make yourself comfortable. I... I will come back.” 

You exit the tent in shambles while Steb fixed the ceiling intently. 

You pace the entire camp, your brain scrambled, trying to make sense of what happened, biting down your thumb’s nail. 

Steb... Isn’t like himself, you saw it yourself. He needs care and rest, but maybe not from you... 

When you reenter the tent with a fuming lentil curry, Steb and his uniform are nowhere to be found. 

Like they were never here to begin with... 

[gatorbites-imagines]

micheal meyers fic if you still write for him? 🎃

I rlly liked your other fics with him, not a big fan of him being characterized as overly affectionate so I rlly liked your kinktober fics about him

something in a similar vein to that? smut or no smut is chill, just him being infatuated in his own creepy way

Michael Myers x male reader

Headcanons

Im happy you like my stuff :3c ive never imagined he was overly affectionate either, it just didn’t feel like it fit his character very much, ya know? No hate to the people who write that, I just like imagining him as a creepy guy, standing there… menacingly…

I think the only way you two could have met where you made a lasting impression is if you were somehow at the same asylum as him. Be it as a doctor or a patient. But I’ve never read a fic where the reader was one of the doctors, so that’s what we’re gonna go with here.

Joining up at smith’s grove sanitarium hadn’t been your first choice, since it was known as a pretty run-down place, that treated their patients more as prisoners than people. It may have been a place for the worst of the worst, but they were still people in your eyes.

You get Michaels attention by somehow wrenching his care from Dr Loomis’s hands, using all kinds of laws and loopholes to rip it from him and then running for the door pretty much. To you, what Loomis did should get him placed in jail and his license removed, as it could only have made his patients states worse.

Building a relationship with Michael is what many would call impossible. But you believed that every person had something special that fueled them, and just being treated like a worthwhile human being always seemed to do the trick.

It took months, if not years for you to really worm your way into Michael’s heart, or whatever was left of it. He hadn’t really had many positive male people in his life, something you also blamed Dr Loomis for, but over time he grew closer to you, in his own way.

To others it may seem like Michael was the same as always, but at this point you’ve worked with him so long that you know him. You can feel his attention follow you, even when you are on the other side of the yard where the patients get sunlight.

It’s no shock that you are most patients’ favorite, especially after you become head of the hospital, after a very long and stressful battle with those stuck in their old ways. It made you start cleaning house, getting rid of bad caretakers and methods to replace them with better ones.

You took it extremely seriously, and would have any so called interviewers or investigators removed from the premises, to not mess with your patients’ care.

You gain a bit of a reputation in the media at how incredibly cruel you can be to the people who wish to use and abuse your patients. Some call you crazy for protecting them, especially as everyone knows Michael Myers resides there.

But to you, it doesn’t matter. You have no spouse, no children, you haven’t talked to your family since you left home at 18, all you truly have is your job, so that is what you use your energy on.

And if a lot of that time is spent with Michael, then so be it. Having Michael actually emote or pay attention to you, is a big step in the right direction in your book. You can never get him to talk, but he does succeed in learning a couple of signs, though you suspect he only does it because he knows it makes you happy.

Later you would look back on Michael’s escape as something you blamed on yourself. Over the long time you had been his caretaker, you always made sure to be there on Halloween, since it was such an important date for him.

He never told you this, obviously, but you could tell. It just happened that you had needed surgery around that time, something you couldn’t put off as much as you wanted. If you wanted to keep caring for your patients, then you needed it done.

So, it truly shouldn’t have been such a surprise for one of your nurses to call you in a panic that Michael had somehow gotten out. Being bedbound, there wasn’t much you could do but give orders from home and watch the tv.

You didn’t technically live in Haddonfield, but you lived close enough that you could bike to town for groceries if you needed to, but also so you could drive to work without much issue.

Seeing no reports of murders outside the usual made you sigh and slump in on yourself. You had put off taking your pain medication, wanting to be clearheaded and aware, just in case you needed to be. And what else kept one clear in the head but pain.

As bedridden as you were, there wasn’t much you could do when you heard your back door open. You only knew it was that door, as it had a loud squeaky hinge you never got fixed, as it wasn’t like you used that entrance much.

Seeing Michaels looming stature shouldn’t have been a shocker either. What did amaze you to a certain, professional extent, was that he hadn’t put on his usual coveralls or mask, instead it was one you two had made together using safe materials.

There was no verbal or physical reply when you spoke to him, outside of a slight rise of tension in his shoulders when he heard you grunt in pain, as you turned to look at him.

You didn’t want to call the hospital, knowing just how volatile Michael could be. And you may have replaced many doctors and nurses, but they still feared him, all but you at least. The only thing you truly could do was speak to him, to make him stay so he didn’t go kill anyone.

Maybe it was the years of care you had given him, but Michael at some point moved closer, just staring down at you and the bandages around your stomach.

You had a feeling he wanted to poke it or maybe just unwrap it, but you had worked with him about other people’s pain tolerance. Michael still only seemed to care when it was you, but you put a lot of stuff in his notes about your professional opinion and growth.

There were worse caretakers than Michael. In all reality he wasn’t really a caretaker. A lot of it was just him standing by the door, in the corner, or right at the foot of your bed to watch you. Hed shuffle after you wherever you went in the apartment, even carrying you when you couldn’t move too much.

you had decided to heal enough to bring him back to smith’s grove when you healed enough, already knowing how violent Michael could be with other people.

To Michael though, this meant more than you meant. He wasn’t one to feel lust or much romantic attraction, but he was drawn to you and attached enough to just stay, to even bring you your pill bottles and water, like how you would to him at smith’s grove.

You theorized it made him happy, in his own way, to know he was helping in the ways he knew how. Another more paranoid part of your brain did worry about what he did when you slept, since the pain medication had that effect.

Nothing ever looked out of place, but you did catch him kneeling beside your bed on more than one occasion, just holding your hand. Or the times hed place your hand on top of his head so you would caress him.

It was inappropriate for a doctor to do such a thing with his patients, but Michael seemed calmer and more at ease when it was just you two. He couldn’t cuddle in bed with you, and neither did he seem to want to, but being held and coddle in small amounts seemingly worked for him.

Michael clearly wasn’t pleased when you took him to return to smith’s grove, but he actually came along without issue. It caused a whole media storm, but over the years you had mastered those too. As long as it helped your patients, then you would do it, to a certain extent.

And if giving Michael weekends at your place where he got to stalk you around your own property was what he needed, then so be it. you saw it as progress, in his own, weird way. Hell, Michael even started sitting and having dinner with you instead of just hovering. To you that was a win, no matter what others said.

[zooophagous]

How do you manage to care for so many animals without neglecting any of them? Like how much of your day is just animal care?

It gets easier when you realize that a lot of things can be done all at once or on a strict schedule.

Like I know from experience how often an animal cage needs to be cleaned and how quickly they clear out their food and water hoppers, so I just straight up plug the maintenance into my calendar as an appointment on regular intervals.

The cats share their stuff and so do the rabbits, so taking care of them is simple because it doesn't really tack on much time to pour food into two plates instead of one, or scoop one more litterbox at a time.

Many of my pets are reptiles with slow metabolisms, and they do not eat every day (some of my larger snakes don't even eat every week) so their maintenance is mostly spot cleaning turds and carrying around a big water pitcher and topping them off.

The only animals I consider truly high maintenance are the dogs, which require several walks a day and dedicated training and supervision not to get into stuff. Especially Tuunbaq, who is a rebellious young male puppy who loves to deconstruct things when he's bored.

The nice thing about the dogs though is if I'm having a very busy day, I have a trustworthy dog daycare facility that knows both of them and loves them and can usually make space for them if I absolutely cannot be there for them that day.

Animals are my special interest and have been since I was a kid, so I don't mind putting in extra work for them. I won't lie and say it's easy, but it's easier than you would think.

I would say right now though I am at capacity at least for mammals, which need more messing with than inverts or reptiles. I won't be bringing home any more mammals until I have an actual hobby farm, which is a dream I've been clinging to for several years.

I may have to settle for a house with a yard. Letting the dogs have a space outside to raise hell and run around would probably cut my pet care stress in half lol.

[acupofinkedblood]

Subspace x reader

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

• Be so for real here, to be able to tolerate this man alone is already a hassle, let alone fall in love with him. You definitely concern people enough for them to check if you have any traumatic brain damage because out of anyone you had, you chose this little shit to begin with. We all need a bit of craziness in our life, but you took it to a whole new level with your evil boyfriend. But in your defense, his unhinged behavior was intriguing!

• Subspace was definitely not the typical romantic type to begin with, that’s a head start for you. He has spent years under Blackrock’s guidance and became an ambitious achiever, romance is definitely something foreign to him. All he knows is that he enjoys your company. And you should be grateful for it! Because he — the great Subspace — even spares you his upmost attention when he isn’t working

• But in all due seriousness and no offense, this guy is such a loser in the most affectionate way

• You know orange cats? They can be such sweethearts, but they have certain reputation for being crazy little rascal. In this case, if we minus the teeny tiny bit of sweetness out of Subspace, then there you have it - An unhinged insane little fuck

• Don’t be surprised when he brings you such random things back. Of course, he is rich and will not hesitate to spoil you. Yet aside from those lavish designer stuff, you can find some of the most questionable items that he ought to bring back to you. Maybe it’s just simple thing that reminds him of you, like butterfly taxidermy collection…or some piece of funny-looking bone he found when doing some experiments. If you’re fond of cryptic trinkets, he is all yours

• He is such a yapper. He will go on and on with anything possible around him: Telling you his accomplishments with pride, bitching about how bothersome his co-workers or ‘pests’ are, rambling on some experiments he has been running…And when you actually ask him more about what he just told you, his eye definitely brightens up

• You definitely have a Biograft that he modifies carefully to be with you when he isn’t around. A companion to keep you company if you may. Just use it for your personal assistant, surely that is his intention beside destroying anyone who dare to harm you—

• Since his lower set of horns can be troublesome when it grows out, you offer to help him carve it. And that is just one of the few things you lend him a hand

• Remember his missing eye? Sometimes a certain liquid just oozes out of his socket, especially when he is stressed out, so your first instinct is to grab the nearest medical kit to help clean it up. Can’t let it infects his already rotten skin as well. You keep in contact with his doctors to know what to do

• Speaking of his rotten skin, he is aware how ruined he is. Hell, his arm is almost falling apart if it isn’t for the sleeve that aids him. Tell him that it doesn’t matter. He is still your number one and who cares if his skin is rotting? You’re already nasty when you first fell for this mess of a dude yourself, surely you have foreseen this coming. When you kiss him for the first time, he almost bites his tongue and waves his hand around to shoo you out of flusteration, and the iconic ‘How dare you-!?’ as well. But when he gets used to the affection, you will see this shit-eating grin appears on his face with pride. This guy is just so full of himself

• Subspace is pretty touch-starved, to your surprise. He won’t ask for it straightforwardly, of course, as if his pride will allow it. But just pick up his body language and you will know when he wants your physical affection. He has this certain part of his horn that if you massage it slightly, he will freeze and literally just not moving at all. Like how you grab a cat’s neck and all of the sudden it just freeze there

• If you do gossip, then oh boy is he ruthless with his tongue. This guy doesn’t hold back when he is talking shit of someone. Especially now he finally has someone who is more than willing to entertain this hobby of his. Poor whoever unlucky enough to be the victim of you two’s verbal violence

• Want his attention? Call out his full government name — Subspace T. Mine — and watch as he look at you with confusion

• He can bake and it’s pretty much edible. But whether it tastes good or not is debatable since he can’t really taste it anymore. You have volunteered to be the gracious one that he allows to test out his baking skill — or basically you have became a domestic glorified test subject — and see if it is good or bad. He usually bakes when he has nothing to do at the moment, which is usually rare considering his workload

• And listen, he is the Morticia of your Gomez. Ain’t any other way around mate. It’s pretty obvious in the dynamic between you two. You love his psychotic quirkiness, and that just fuels his pride even more. Just a compliment from you is enough to boost his ego to the top. It’s like that meme of ‘Hot witch wife and me who will do anything she wants,’ but in his case, he is your wifey

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Note: I used to main this little shit before I lost my account so he has a special spot in my heart

[romana-after-dark]

Rooms on Fire: Everything We Lost In The Fire

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader

Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader

Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna has to make a stand.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

Extra warnings for chapter: Violence

2.2k words

A/N Please know tags have been spotty so check and make sure you're caught up! Also I am sick so sorry if the writing is mid lololol im trying.

"We don't have to wait for anyone to follow Burn all the yesterdays, give us our tomorrow Love is like a flame in our desire We'll have to sacrifice everything we lost in the fire." ~Everything We Lost in the Fire, Blue October

Wrapped up in Will’s arms, you try to focus on Francisco’s kisses, not the fact Will’s hands were on your breast, Ben’s mouth was on your cunt, or Santi’s body was incassing Francisco.

It had been nearly 3 weeks since Rey’s body was burned, and you were expected to pretend like nothing was happening. Pretend that after your baby is born, Santi won’t have you and Iris killed. Well, definitely Iris. Will had a way of convincing Santiago to follow his lead, and Will still seemed to love you… but Iris was certainly dead. It was probably Francisco and Will who convinced Santi not to kill her after the fire incident, that more stress would surely trigger something in your pregnancy… That was all Santiago cared about. Not you, definitely not Iris. Just the savior…

You wonder if he believes in the savior. You wonder if you even believe in the savior… You didn’t know what you believed, honestly.

Francisco’s tongue explored your mouth for the 100th time, and you tried to find solace in him but it was growing harder and harder as time went on. You felt alone, you felt like Iris was the only one who actually understood what you were going through. Sometimes, when your husbands were asleep, you’d sneak out to the servants quarters. You’d try not to think about Rey or Jonah’s rooms as you passed them, softly knocking on Iris’s door. She’d tell you to come in, and you’d find her in bed, usually crying.

 Carefully, you crawl into  bed with her, and just lay there. Sometimes you cry with her. Sometimes she holds you. Rarely, you talk. Iris would answer questions you had, truth of the attempted revolt as she knew it, Jonah’s affair with Delilah, Beatriz's murder, Jonah dancing at your fathers death. You knew you should hate Jonah, but something inside you continued that attachment. It wasn’t right, he’d tried to rape you, but it was so out of character for him… your brain struggled to make sense of these two versions of Jonah.

After a few hours, you get up and go back to bed with Will or Francisco. You weren’t allowed to be alone with Iris during the day anymore, so you spent most of your time with one of your husbands, and occasionally a guard. None of them were like Rey. They’d all seen him burned, his body beaten and slaughtered. No one wanted to be your friend.

You try to pretend it’s Francisco’s hands on you, you try to block out everything but him, but of course you aren’t that lucky.

Santiago grabs Francisco’s hair, yanking his mouth away from you and to his own lips, kissing him deeply and making Francisco melt in little moans. You can’t help the pang of jealousy that flares up around you. Benny notices too, pulling his lips away from between your legs and planting a sloppy kiss on Francisco’s asscheek, kissing his way to your lover's crack. Soon, you are all but forgotten as Santiago and Ben fight for Franisco’s pleasure.

Ben’s tongue is buried in Francisco’s ass, prodding deep inside the tight hole you’d fucked as well, making Francisco whine and buck as Santiago jerked him off, bringing him to orgasm. Francisco’s seed spilled out onto the sheets, white and sticky rope after rope as Francisco whimpered and moaned. 

Will’s body was firm against you, holding you close with one hand touching your body, the other fingering you and picking you up where Ben left you forgotten. 

You watch as Ben goes straight from ass to mouth, kissing Francisco hard and pulling him by his chubby cheeks away from Santiago. A battle for Francisco’s affection insured, the two men kissing Francisco every which way as Will brought you to orgasm with his fingers reaching around your large stomach.

“Look at our husbands, Madonna.” He murmurs softly in your ear, so soft you can’t help fall into him just a little. “Look how beautiful they are.”

And they were. Objectively, they were all beautiful, sculpted with perfect bodies and handsome features and so utterly obsessed with each other, the clawing at each others skin and biting of their lips didn’t matter. You watch as Santiago draws blood from Ben’s shoulder, a sharp reminder of his position without going too far to invoke Will’s wrath. Francisco clawing his nails down Santiago’s back. Ben edging Santiago’s cock but stopping him as the base, right before climax. You see the matching cuts on Francisco and Santiago’s arms.

They were beautiful. But you couldn’t see their beauty.

You saw Will, who killed Jonah. Jonah, who yes did something terrible to you but was still a father to you. Will, who controlled your every move, who made allowances for Santiago’s behavior again and again and again, who knew what Ben did to Iris but did nothing.

You saw Ben, a rapist who impregnated Iris, who killed Rey.

You saw Santiago, a psychopath who raped and burned you while pregnant, who was responsible for the distruction of so many lives here.

And Francisco, who let it all happen.

*

You fell asleep that night in Francisco's arms, the other retiring to their rooms. You slept with Frankie most nights, Santiago surely letting it go for now until he no longer needed you. What were these last 2 months when he could have an eternity with Francisco? You were deep in sleep, dreaming when something began to wake you. A hand on your mouth. You were certain it was the incubus again, you try to scream but the hand over your mouth is clamped on tight. You open your eyes to see Jonah’s face.

All attempts to scream, to move are fruitless as you wake up, writhing but you are held tightly around the waist, large hands holding down both of your own. Jonah -or the incubus taking his form- didn’t attempt to touch you, instead when you locked eyes with him they were wide with worry. Tired, dark bags under his eyes. You look down. It’s Francisco’s hands that are holding you.

Your body stills, tears forming in your eyes from fear and anger and confusion. Jonah isn’t dead.

Slowly, Francisco’s hand is removed from your mouth to let out a whimper as you turn around to see him. “What’s happening?” You cry to your husband, his soft face looking as scared as you are.

“We’re leaving.” He helps you sit up in the bed, then gets up, getting dressed in the light of the candle.

“No.” You shake your head, inching away from Jonah. “I’m not going anywhere with him.” Your voice is quiet, cracking with emotion as you try to wrap your head around it all. 

Iris’s voice speaks as she lights a candle now, revealing her face in the dark room. “It’s okay, trust me.” She uses your real name.

“But… but he… he tried too…” You couldn’t say the words.

Jonah was knelt at your bed, his eyes pleading for understanding. “I don’t expect you to forgive me for what i did honey. It was wrong. But please… I need you to know I would never, ever have violated you… it doesn’t make what happened any better but… I need you to know how it really happened.”

Shaking in bed, you look to Iris, the only face here you could trust for truth. “Just hear him out. I won’t tell you how to feel.”

Francisco gently tugged you out of bed, dressing you in warm clothing and putting socks and shoes on as Jonah told you what happened. He explained how Will made him a deal, a chance to get Iris out. How Will gave permission to rape you, but he swore up and down he’d kill himself before he took it that far, that he would never have touched you or hurt you, he just needed to scare you.

You couldn’t process this. Will was… Will. You didn’t trust him, but Will protected you! He’d never let someone hurt you to scare a lesson into you!

“No…” You say as Francisco ties your shoes. “No he wouldn’t let someone hurt me… he took a bullet for me!”

Iris shushed you harshly, but Jonah shook his head. “No, he didn’t. Melody was trying to kill Ben because he raped her. Honey…” He sighed. “Iris… she told me about the “incubus…” I thought you knew…”

You blink. “Knew what?”

“Will. He was coming into your room every night… I didn’t- Rey and I thought… we didn’t think he was doing it when you slept. I’m sorry.”

No. No, Will wouldn’t do that. Will wouldn’t take you while you were sleeping! Why would he do that when you were available to him all day every day? You remembered what Santiago said, that if the baby came out with blonde hair, there’d be a problem… When trying to conceive, Francisco was barely talking to you, and Santiago was angry at you the first time you didn’t end up pregnant… you were fill most days by the Miller brothers multiple times…

This baby was likely one of theirs.

“Madonna…” Francisco whispers wrapping his arm around your middle. “We have to go. We’re getting you and Iris out.”

*

Down the halls, you sneak, the four of you walking as quietly as possible and navigating where guards are posted, where the floors creak and moan the most, and how to avoid Ben or Santiago or Will. 

Your heart was beating a million times a minute, your skin on fire with fear, holding your belly. You needed to be brave. This was no life for your baby to grow up in, Santiago was not a parent to raise a child…

For the first time, you realize why your dad was willing to tear everything he knew apart to make a better life for you.

“This way.” Francisco motions, but Jonah stops, making you and Iris stop too.

Jonah whispers. “You said we were going this way? That way is past Ben’s room.”

“There was a change in the guards, Will has them all posted along that side now.”

“And you just now thought to tell me?”

“C’mon.”

Reluctantly, Jonah follows Francisco down the hall, right to Ben’s room where he stops.

“...Frank…”

But Francisco lingers on the door, hand brushing against the wood.

“Frankie, don’t.” Iris pleads, but you are frozen. Jonah grabs Iris, telling you to follow him but you’re frozen in place. He doesn’t see you not following, or he doesn’t care. His priority is Iris, and you can’t blame him for that. You watch in horror as Francisco knocks on the door, and Ben answers with a wide grin.

“Should’ve known you’d come knocking, baby…” He pulls him in for a kiss, pulling his pouty lower lips between his teeth but stopping when he saw you.

“Why is she here?” he says with disdain. It shouldn’t hurt, but it did. He was supposed to love you. He could be the father of your baby… He’s the father of Iris’s baby you remind yourself.

“Benny, Benny I need you to listen to me, okay?” Francisco pleads, his hands pawing at Benny’s baby face, begging for attention, for understanding and suddenly you know what he’s doing.

“Francisco…” You mutter, disappointment clawing at your throat, but both men ignored you.

“Frankie, what's going on?” Ben’s voice was soft and worried, that tender tone he only ever used on Francisco. He half chuckles, and it’s a nervous sound. “You’re scaring me here…”

A soft kiss to his lips. “We need to leave, okay? We gotta get Madonna out of here… she can’t be with Santi, he’s crazy, he’ll kill her.”

Ben shakes his head, laughing lightly in disbelief. “No way, man. We have a duty here. The savior, Santi-”

“FUCK Santi, Ben, I-” Francisco’s voice crack, holding Ben against the wall, his plush lips trailing the younger man’s skin. “Benny, please, I love you, I love you so fucking much. We don’t need him, we can just leave, we can start a new life… Jonah and Iris are leaving, we’ll be far away with Madonna long before anyone knows we’re gone… We don’t need anyone else, we only need each other… Please, please, please, just… come with me…”

Ben searched his face, blue eyes shining. He touched Francisco’s face with such tenderness you didn’t think possible from the hurricane of a man. Ben with Francisco was a totally different man.

But he was still loyal to Santiago above all else.

“Frankie, let’s just go talk to Santi-”

“No, Ben-”

“We’ll work this out, get Iris and Jonah back”

No, no they can’t have her. They can’t fucking touch Iris.

But Francisco just nods, closing his eyes. “Okay. Okay yeah, we’ll make this right.”

 “Francisco!” You are once again ignored.

Francisco closes in on Ben, caging him against the wall as he kisses him. “We’ll be together, right? After the savior is born, we can be together…”

“Yeah baby.” Ben kisses him back, arms wrapped around his thick middle. “Just you and me. We don’t need no one else.”

Francisco raises his hand to Ben’s neck and you think he’s going to caress his face… but then Ben’s movements halt to a stop. Then, a slow jerking of his body, and Francisco whispering, ‘I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry Benny’

Blood trickled down his arm, and as Francisco pulled away you see that Francisco slit his throat. He slowly lowers his lover’s heavy frame to the ground, the younger man’s body still jolting and a gagging, gurgling sound escaping his throat. Ben was dying silently, a complete opposite of the way he lived.

His body shook as the last blood spilled, and all Francisco could do was hold him and cry.

BEN IS DEAD!!!!!!

Also, JONAH IS ALIVE!

next chapter is our finale!!!

what do we think is gonna happen, girlie pops!!!

I have enjoyed so much writing this series, im getting emotional coming to the end!!!!

Love you all soooooo much!

If you like Logan Howlett, check out my new series Be Quiet

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[milk-boy]

sometimes i lose sight and forget love is the answer.

[danielnelsen]

peach (my cat) is having a full-day vet appointment to scan and possibly remove some teeth (the perks of only being allowed wet food)

completely unrelated, but anything regarding peach’s health or her being somewhere else or anything even mildly off with her routine or behaviour is probably by biggest anxiety and panic trigger

[icewindandboringhorror]

I have found a beautiful perfect humble rock specimen that is light yellow with a weird dark yellowy brown lining, somewhat resembling a chunk of smoked gouda cheese... effervescent

[coriander-candlesticks]

I'm sick so I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense, but I've been thinking about the nature of myths recently as I've been exploring hellenic polytheism.

For context: I'm ex-Mormon. I was raised in the church and, because of that, was taught biblical literalism but in, like, a more subtle way than most? I was raised believing that Adam & Eve and Noah's Ark, etc., were literally true, but that the story of Job specifically was not; I also always knew evolution and the Big Bang to be correct, despite there being a verse in the Doctrine & Covenants (a Mormon-specific religious book) where God apparently told Joseph Smith that the world is 6,000 years old- a passage I didn't know existed until my senior year of high school. I didn't realize I had believed in biblical literalism until I'd left the church, actually.

Now that I'm aware of it, it's a mindset I'm actively trying to combat while I explore Hellenic polytheism. It's definitely been a task to separate the nature of the Gods from their myths, as brutal as they often are. And it's something I've noticed within the community, too, which I think is interesting. It makes sense: Christianity, at least, has had a chokehold on much of the world for a long time, and so many of us have experienced literalism as our first interaction with any sort of holy text (though, of course, Greek myths as a whole aren't that) alongside our first experience with divinity as a wrathful God whose flaws are waved away, or ignored, or twisted into positive attributes. This also means that I'm trying to re-approach several deities with an open mind (Zeus, Hera, and Ares in particular, but many of them to some extent) while also trying to un-condition myself. I was already in the process of doing this, of course, but trying to figure out how to interact with a completely different pantheon has made that especially clear.

It extends to things like prayer and offerings, too. Prayers were very formulaic growing up, even though most of the time there wasn't a strict script to follow. There was always something you ask as part of the prayer, even if it's just 'please help me do better tomorrow' (alongside giving thanks, of course), so trying to craft a prayer without adding *everything* I'm used to including in makes it feel incomplete and, therefore, disrespectful. And daily prayer is something I'm resistant to because of prior experiences with it. I don't want to offend any of the gods by asking for something or asking for too much, especially so early on, and there's always a promised offering the few times I *have* asked. Add worries about exact obedience on top of that and it's proving to be a difficult thing to untangle. And I know that the gods are difficult to offend, figuring out how to do this takes trial & error and that's okay, it'll get better the more I do it, etc., etc.; this is more an issue with my own overthinking than anything else (hooray for ✨ mental health issues ✨). I'm not really asking for advice here, necessarily, just thinking out loud because I'm not comfortable talking to people in meat space about it yet.

[veradune]

Update on 48 hour apartment purge: so it's extending for the rest of the long weekend at this rate and I managed to snap a hole in the bathroom sink pipe while trying to get the accursed pop-up drain aligned so it would actually, maybe, stop the sink 🙃

I love having to frantically empty a wet cabinet at 2am (why did I start fussing with it thennnn)

[fantabulisticity]

Okay. Y'all. STOP MIXING BAKING SODA AND VINEGAR TO CLEAN STUFF. IT DOESN'T WORK. I PROMISE THAT BOTH OF THOSE OPTIONS WORK BETTER ON THEIR OWN THAN TOGETHER. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LOOK UP WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU MIX THEM. IT DOESN'T WORK.

Baking soda, Sodium bicarbonate, is a base. Vinegar, acetic acid, is an acid. When you mix a base and an acid, it produces water, a salt (at least a precipitate if not always a salt, but we made a lot of salts in school), and a gas.

When you mix baking soda and vinegar, you are neutralizing BOTH CHEMICALS into SALTWATER AND AIR. I PROMISE that cleaning with baking soda OR vinegar SEPARATELY will clean SO MUCH BETTER than saltwater and air.

I'm not even a chemistry person. This isn't even my area. Please, please, please don't mix chemicals that some asshole on the internet told you to mix. At worst, it can kill you or send you to the hospital, or at best it can make both chemicals turn into something basically useless for most cleaning purposes. Mixing two cleaning chemicals together does NOT make a better cleaning chemical in most cases.

[kukuandkookie]

Need to vent momentarily so uh…

Had a giant fight with my mom this morning about admiring Elon Musk or Donald Trump just because they’re “successful” which also evolved into her again critiquing her own children and how I pointed out that the shit she says about us can be hurtful, even when she insists she’s trying to be “encouraging.”

I won’t go into detail about it because my family issues are insane sometimes—but I wanted to add this context because maybe I still have some leftover frustration and rage from that, and I guess because I’ve experienced another weeks and weeks’ pile-up of sinophobia, and I’m also overwhelmed by how awful the world is right now with the continued genocide of Palestine but also the rise in normalization of right wing politics, but I saw something today that just added to the frustration because God I hate how people can’t see “the Other” in a less prejudiced light.

It’s not a big deal but saw some sinophobia today that with my poor mood didn’t help exactly:

Basically, there’s a short from a year ago about Chinese celebrities being snubbed at international events to the point that one of them (Liu Yifei) got cut off from a group photo and how another (Zhang Yuqi) got asked to get off the red carpet because they assumed she wasn’t a guest despite her being all dressed up.

The comments are all bullshit like “well they work for the CCP right? So they deserve to be ignored” or “why are you stirring up drama? Just because they’re famous in China doesn’t mean they’re famous internationally” or “haha a taste of China’s own medicine.”

Like oh my God, shut up.

These are international events. Why are you acting like snubbing an international guest isn’t worthy of critique? Just because you hate the country’s politics?? In that case, if you don’t even recognize the celebrity, how do you even know if they work for the oh-so-evil CCP???

It’s always “I don’t hate the Chinese; I just hate their government” until it comes to actual Chinese people because then your poor brain just assumes Chinese people are an extension of their government. You think these celebrities work for the government just by simply existing?? How? Do you think they pay their wages to the CCP or some shit???

Kpop fans mentioned for years that kpop celebrities were snubbed at international red carpets until recently. Why the hell don’t fans of Chinese celebrities get to point it out then?

[runawaycarouselhorse]

"Why does autism seem more common in males?

Being female does appear to protect the brain from many developmental disabilities, not just autism. There is emerging evidence that girls with autism need more extreme genetic mutations than boys to develop autism.

However, there is a growing body of work that indicates that autism just presents differently in girls and therefore often goes unrecognised, especially in verbally fluent girls with normal intelligence. Girls with autism also appear to be better at ‘camouflaging’ their symptoms in order to fit in.

With the diagnostic criteria for ASD based largely in how autism presents in males, girls can often ‘slip under the radar’ or get misdiagnosed. Girls with ASD seem to have less restricted and repetitive behaviours than boys, but it’s also possible that some of these behaviours go unrecognised — for example, an obsessive interest in collecting dolls may be misinterpreted as pretend play.

What does autism look like in girls?

Although every child with autism is different, here are some common characteristics in girls with autism:

A special interest in animals, music, art, and literature

A strong imagination (might escape into the worlds of nature or fiction)

A desire to arrange and organise objects

Not wanting to play cooperatively with female peers (for example, wanting to dictate the rules of play or preferring to play alone to maintain control)

A tendency to ‘mimic’ others in social situations in order to blend in

An ability to hold their emotions in check at school, but be prone to meltdowns or explosive behaviour at home

Strong sensory sensitivities, especially to sounds and touch (for example; clothing tags, socks or even deodorant).

For autistic girls to thrive, it’s important they have access to a timely and accurate diagnosis, and the informed supports that come with it. A delayed or missed diagnosis can impede their education and development, as well as their social and community participation.

While boys with autism are more likely to have outwardly challenging behaviours, (indicating underlying issues, such as anxiety) girls with autism are more vulnerable to internalising problems.

As our understanding of how autism affects females is still emerging, it is important parents and professionals alike stay updated on the best ways to specifically support girls and women on the spectrum."

[e77y]

Glad I’m starting therapy so soon after moving out ☝️ I am already feeling the helplessness and loneliness

[moinsbienquekaworu]

Housemate is letting one of her rabbits walk around at night again :/

[girlscience]

screaming crying blowing up