#anyway im back to reading the book on butchering *finally*

[zeawesomebirdie]

Yes I've enjoyed spending the last two months reading nothing but fic, but man am I so glad to be back to researching stuff for my family's farm!!

[foxymoxynoona]

HAPPY BTS FIC WRITING ANNIVERSARY!!!! thank u so much sharing your incredible writing FOR FREE. FOR. FREE. I CAN NOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH: YOU WILLINGLY SHARE YOUR WRITING WITH US. FOR. FREE. AND YOUR FICS ARE LIKE LONGER THAN THE LONGEST HARRY POTTER BOOK??? THATS FUCKING CRAZY LIKE I WISH NOT FOR THE FIRST TIME THAT I COULD JUST FORGET SO THAT I COULD GO IN BLIND AND REREAD EVERY SINGLE FIC OF YOURS ALL OVER AGAIN. I WISH I COULD RELIEVE THAT FEELING OF BEING SO FULL OF AWE EACH TIME I READ A SENTENCE. IM SO GLAD YOURE AN ARMY OTHERWISE I WOULD HAVE NEVER FOUND YOU!!!! regarding the drabble request, could you maybe (if you COULD AND WANT TO, PLS DONT FORCE YOURSELF TO WRITE IT IF YOU DONT WANT TO) write a drabble where lily finally calls jk dad for the first time after calling him kookie for so long 🥺 that, or namjoon and sylvie dad-daughter bonding time 🥰 IF THATS NOT TOO MUCH FOR YOU OFC!!!! THANK U SO MUCH FOR THE DRABBLE OFFER ANYWAY!!!!! ILL READ WHATEVER YOU DECIDE TO WRITE EVEN IF NONE OF IT IS FROM MY REQUEST!!!! I LOVE WHATEVER YOU WRITE 🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

I've had this beautiful long note in my inbox for so long and I'm excited to finally have a drabble for you! I'll no doubt do some more Jungkook Lily too, but here's Namjoon and Sylvie for you. Thank you so so so much for reading my stories and I'm really all gooey inside that you enjoy them so much!

Bonus thank you to the person who wrote in asking about Namjoon doing origami!

Story: Amended Characters: Namjoon & Sylvie (Namjoon x Gina, Sylvie is Gina's daughter) Length: 2353 CW: some cursing about deadbeat dads :)

Namjoon sat on the couch and looked at Sylvie. Sylvie looked right back at him, but standing, with her arms tucked into the back of her Mirabel dress through an impressive feat of contortion. Namjoon knew who Mirabel was; he’d seen the movie twice and made a point of learning the soundtrack. Coco too. And Moana. And Frozen, back before he knew which Disney movies Sylvie and Diego actually liked. They had not yet been impressed by his knowledge of the lyrics but Gina had made him butcher the Spanish lyrics of ‘Dos Oroguitas’ again for her later and swayed with her arms around his neck and kissed him hard so… yeah, no regrets. It was nice languages came to him relatively easy. He hadn’t told her he was learning Spanish in his spare time yet, not wanting to embarrass himself before he reached a minimum threshold of competency, but obviously that was a thing he needed to do. She spoke Spanish with her kids as much as she did English. Her whole family spoke it as their first language. He wanted to be in her life, so he needed to speak it too.

Now he decided to try it out a little during this afternoon alone with Sylvie for the first time.

“Qué quieres hacer?” he asked her to show off.

Her lips bubbled out with her breath and she tilted her head and scrunched her eyebrows together. Fuck, had he said something wrong? Or did he just sound stupid?

“What are we going to do together, Sylvie?” he asked her. 

“I don’t know,” she giggled. Then tilted her head the other way. “No sé.” Then “Podemos comer dulces?”

“Ok ok, you passed my Spanish,” he laughed. “I don’t speak much yet.”

“Do you have candy in your pocket? Can I have it?”

One time he’d had candy in his pocket when they saw each other while he was in uniform. 

“Sorry, I don’t…”

She didn’t say anything but looked disappointed. Strike one. Namjoon pursed his lips and templed his fingers, elbows on his knees, and waited. One of them had to figure out what they were going to do. They had several hours before Gina and Diego would be home for his afternoon of appointments. Gina was stressed as shit about Diego’s school trouble lately –Diego acting out, doing poorly on his schoolwork, not wanting to do his homework or even read anymore. So off they went to the doctor for something Namjoon hadn’t asked the details about and Namjoon had volunteered to keep Sylvie before Gina could ask Isabella.

Because, hey, he and Gina were kind of a thing now –no, not kind of. A thing. They were a thing. And he needed to impress her kids quick. He didn’t have tons of nieces and nephews running around like Jungkook did to give him that leg up. He didn’t know much about kids at all and suspected they both knew Diego and Sylvie. He felt big and clumsy with kids. He’d felt that way when he was a kid.

“So uh… what do you want to play?” Namjoon asked.

Sylvie just shrugged. 

“Um, you’ve got like… Princess stuff or Legos or–”

“Those are Go’s,” she corrected. “I don’t play Legos.”

“Oh. Ok, well… we could uh…”  He racked his brain, trying to think of what Jungkook mentioned he did with Lily, or what he’d seen Sylvie do when he was over any other time, or any movies he’d seen. “Um… tea party?”

“No,” she said in her little soft voice, a gentle rejection.

“Uh… art?”

A pause, then, “Ok.”

“Ok. What art stuff do we have? I’m not a great artist but maybe you can teach me something…” 

“Anyone can be an artist,” she corrected. “All you have to do is take a crayon and make your mark.”

“Wow.” She went over to get a box from against the wall but he just stared after her for a moment. Had she thought of that on her own? That was fucking profound. “Does your mom say that?”

“No. It’s in that crayon book.”

“What crayon book?”

“You know, the crayon book.” He still didn’t know, but she didn’t clarify further, because apparently he ought to just know what book she was talking about even though he was positive he’d never read a book about crayons in his life. Or, well, recently. When she began to drag the box to the coffee table, he picked it up and set it beside the table and lifted the lid off, peering into a chaotic nest of broken crayons, pipe-cleaners, half used sticker sheets, dry glue sticks, uncapped markers, loose sequins, and colored popsicle sticks.

Sylvie plopped right down and pulled out some paper and crayons. Damn, she was cute, little face bright and happy, loose hair wispy around her face from her long ponytail with a sparkly scrunchie. 

“What are you drawing?”

“Uh….” She paused and looked at the lines she had made, then giggled and whispered shyly, “I don’t know yet.” He wasn’t sure why that had made her shy, but decided to give her some space. She was shy, much shyer than Lily, who saw everyone as a friend she just hadn’t met yet. Each time he was around Sylvie, he felt like it took time for her to warm up to him again. It was faster if Lily and Jungkook were around, like Sylvie just accepted Namjoon was her Jungkook stand-in for the moment.

But he wanted to be more than that to her. Even if the reality of what it took to be more than that for her felt beyond him right now because he couldn’t even figure out how to spend an afternoon with her. What business did he have dating a woman with children when he knew next to nothing?

But he wanted to. He wanted to figure this out. He felt like Gina and Diego and Sylvie were worth it. He got it, why Jungkook had felt like Isabella, Ezra, and Lily were too.

 So he folded his long legs under the coffee table and dug around in the box and pulled a few pieces of paper out to draw on too. In holding it, though, he realized it was a lighter weight, and had pretty designs on each side.

“Oh, this is perfect for origami.”

“I know origami,” Sylvie announced, eyes lighting up. 

“Oh yeah?”

“We do origami in art special at school.”

“What’s art special?”

“Thursday.”

“Ok…” Didn’t answer his question but she seemed to think it did. “Well what do you make?”

“Um…” She blew her lips out unhappily. “Swords.”

“You… make origami swords?”

“Yeah… and a diamond.”

“And a diamond.” He had no fucking clue what she was talking about.

“Here, I can show you!”

“Ok!” Yeah that seemed good. He watched as she started folding up her current paper without even bothering to make it square. “Wait. I need tape.”

“You shouldn’t need tape…”

“Well I do,” she said and sounded so much like her mother it made him laugh. He went to find some tape, but all he could find was packing tape, so he had to fight with the end of it and tear her off small pieces to use and then fight with the end again when it would inevitably cling to itself again.

“You can say bad words. I know not to say them too,” she assured him, either reading his mind or lips.

“Ah… I won’t… it’s better to stop saying bad words, you know?”

“Mami says bad words don’t count if you say them in Spanish so maybe you should learn Spanish.”

“Yo estudio español.” As soon as he said it, he worried it was wrong,even such a basic phrase. She giggled, which could mean either way. 

“Ok do what I do,” she told him. 

He tried. She kept checking his work and telling him he was doing it wrong, but then she’d tell him “very good” probably like her teacher did.  Then she held out the thing she’d made. “Aquì. A diamond” and motioned to his.

“Ahh, yes, hm.” He looked at the two things in his hands. This was not origami. This was paper folded and taped to resemble a crunchy wad roughly in a shape alluding to a diamond. In a way, hers was better, because his looked like it was trying too hard. “It’s really cool. Thanks for teaching me.”

“Do I have to make a sword?”

“No, of course not. Want me to make something?”

“Yes,” she grinned.

“Ok, let’s see…” He looked around for something he could use to crease the paper and settled on a shitty pair of safety scissors. It had been a while since he’d actually made anything with origami and he worried at first he’d need to look up directions which would make it seem a little less cool. But once he started to crease the paper, he felt the directions come back like a video he could watch just by closing his eyes. His fingers remembered –probably because he’d made dozens of these trying to impress a girl in middle school. It had not worked. Resulted in nothing but papercuts and blisters. 

Sylvie leaned close on the table, watching his hands closely. No one ever paid that much attention to anything he was doing, it was really sweet. He kept glancing at her face until he made the final fold and held it out to her.

“It’s a butterfly!” she gasped and held her hands out for it. When he set it in her palm, she cradled it like it was real. 

“It’s pretty, right?”

“It’s so cute!”

“Ok, let’s see, what else do I know how to make…” Namjoon racked his brain as Sylvie leapt up and made the butterfly fly around the room. She was so pleased with it, it made Namjoon feel really good.

“Teach me how to make it!” Sylvie begged, crashing back down and gently putting the butterfly on the table. “She needs a sister and we can make a bed. No, two sisters!”

She was talking to him so much!

“That’s a lot of sisters,” Namjoon laughed. “All right. It’s kinda tricky though so I may have to help you sometimes…”

He thought that might be frustrating for her to need help. Kids were supposed to get impatient if they couldn’t do it themselves, right? But she didn’t mind at all, just leaned around his hands to see when he’d reach forward to assist with the more complicated bends and folds. Her butterfly came out a little wonky but he praised it and she glowed. She chose the paper for his and then they looked up on his phone how to make a box, which he folded while she tore up paper to be the “blankets.”

“Hmmm, should I try to make a bird? It’s pretty hard!”

“You can do it!” Sylvie insisted. “If it gets hard I can help you.”

Ah, she was adorable. She was really cute. Namjoon watched her smile to herself and arrange the trio of butterfly sisters carefully in their new little bed and couldn’t fathom how a father could just walk away from this little girl. That’s what the fucker had done! Gina had minced no words when, in response to Namjoon asking her on a date, she had said, “I already picked the wrong dad for my babies and now they’ve got a basket of abandonment issues. They already know you. I know no guy wants to hear it, but I can’t date you unless we figure out fast if we’re serious about it, because they don’t need another guy tossing a wave over his fucking shoulder at them.”

And Namjoon had straightened his shoulders and looked her in the eye and said, “I debated it a long time before I asked because of that. You deserve better than that, they deserve better than that. You tell me what the best thing is to do for them, and for you, but… yeah. I’m serious about this. I mean it.”

And so they were a thing, even though they’d only been on a few dates, and Namjoon was doing his best to earn the warmth he felt in his chest every time her kids played with him or asked for help with something or hung off his arms to see if he could still walk or just shouted and waved, “Hi, Joon! Bye, Joon!” Always Joon. 

The crane hadn’t turned out great but Sylvie loved it. She loved the frog too, even though he had to find instructions on his phone. He made it with daisy paper and Sylvie squealed with more glee than he’d ever heard from her. She loved his shitty frog, his lopsided crane, the butterflies. And it was soothing to make, too. Something about the focus on such a small task, the dexterity required, the smoothing and folding and pressing, the doubting it until it finally came together, it was all very calming. 

Maybe that was spending time with Sylvie too though. She was so quiet when her brother wasn’t around; Jungkook said Lily barely stopped to breathe, but it was obvious Sylvie on her own was a gentle soul. She seemed perfectly happy doing this too; he was amazed how long it entertained her. 

“Ok what else can we make…”

“Make a… hm…” Sylvie trailed off staring at the screen as Namjoon scrolled to see what else there were tutorials for. “MAKE A ELEPHANT!” she shouted, pointing at his phone so hard it fell from his hands. Her eyes got wide. “Sorry…” she grimaced.

“Ahh, it looks really hard, but let’s see if we can do it together,” he said. “What paper are we going to use?”

“Pink.”

“Pink it is.” 

Sylvie giggled and snuggled close to his side so their hands could work together and it didn’t matter that the girls in middle school hadn’t been impressed with his origami. It was worth every second to spend this afternoon making Sylvie happy instead. Worth every papercut.

[nbrook29]

robbe 1️⃣8️⃣

Warning: This is smutty, proceed with caution if it’s not your jam ;)

ao3

If anybody asked Robbe, bad weather in the summer should be illegal. Because what the hell? He needs sun rays and blue sky like he needs oxygen, he wants 30+ degrees temperatures and not a single cloud above, and he always welcomes it with all the small inconveniences it brings along, like clammy skin mere minutes after showering or freckles covering his nose and arms. So when it’s August and it’s raining, sorry, pouring buckets, sue him if he turns into a whiny mess for a bit. That’s just who he is.

Or, that’s who he was. Because right now, lying on a soft cloud-like throw blanket in a not-his t-shirt and sweatpants, head a mess of wild damp curls, fuzzy socks on his feet tangled with another pair, he’s feeling pretty good.

Even though the original scenario for his birthday was supposed to be different.

It all started at 12:00 am sharp with a dorky text from Sander because of course it did.

Sander: Hey there you sexy thing

Heard you're legal now 👅 

Robbe: Omg sander 🙈 

Sander: Yes, that's what you'll be screaming today during our own little celebration 😈

 Robbe almost spat out the water he was drinking, face burning hot as he tried to assess whether anybody was paying him any attention.

 Robbe: SHSHDHSHSJSJS STOP 

Sander: I'll do that thing you like 😏👅 

Robbe: IM WITH MY PARENTS DICKHEAD 

Sander: Am I bothering you cutie? 😏 

Robbe: Yessssss 😩 my face is all red they're gonna know what's up 

Sander: I think *I* know what is up 😏🍆 

Robbe: 🤣 GO COOL OFF 

Sander: Hehe

No but for real now

Happy birthday! 🥰🥳😘❤🎂

I love you SO much ❤❤❤💯 

Robbe: Thank youuuu baby 😊😘 

Sander: Can't believe you're an adult *wipes a tear*

You'll always be my baby tho ❤ 

Robbe: Haha yes ❤❤ 

Sander: I'll be waiting for you at 4 pm 

Robbe: But where?? 

Sander: 😌 

Robbe: Sanderrr tell me 

Sander: Nope 

Goodnight 😌

 Sander absolutely loves to tease him and keep him at the edge of the seat which is why he told him the place only half an hour before their meeting, for which Robbe intended to tell him off. That is until he actually got to Park Spoor Noord and saw his boyfriend lounging on grass, blanket underneath him, surrounded by Robbe’s favorite food and wearing the most charming smile as soon as their eyes met.

And he got him a sunflower. A sunflower. How cute is that?

Needless to say, there was no telling off, Robbe didn’t exactly find time for it between kisses and laughs and Sander feeding him croques and fries and cupcakes (which Sander baked and decorated himself, swearing for dear life the small thingies made from frosting on top were not dicks, but Robbe knows him too well to believe him).

And then all hell broke loose and the storm that had been loudly talked about in the media came to Antwerp and made a puddle out of the two of them.

They looked really miserable, but somehow Robbe couldn’t care less as they were running to Sander’s house holding hands, water in their shoes, the sunflower cradled carefully underneath his shirt, huge smiles on their faces as they finally got there, tripping in their haste to get inside.

The hot shower that followed next and Sander taking the lead oh so well will definitely rank in the top 5 moments of Robbe’s life. He’s very grateful Sander’s parents are on holiday in London because he’s not sure he’d ever be able to look them in the eyes otherwise.

Afterwards, Sander made them ice coffee and handed Robbe his real gift which turned out to be a long weekend in Paris a week from now, shutting him up with a kiss when Robbe was about to protest and complain about it being too expensive.

Since the concert they were supposed to go to was canceled due to poor weather conditions, they resorted to eating cake in Sander’s bed and watching the show Robbe had been talking about for weeks now. Sander, being the thoughtful and amazing boyfriend that he is, graciously agreed to Robbe’s birthday wish and sat him down between his legs, kissed the side of his face, brought his laptop closer and pressed play, as Robbe made himself comfy in his arms, the smile that originated at midnight not slipping off even for a second.

***

Another thunder strikes the night sky and Robbe jumps involuntarily, only a little, more from shock than actual fear, but it doesn’t stop Sander from tightening his arms around him, lips grazing delicately the lobe of his ear.

“Don’t worry, Robin, I will protect you,” he whispers with a teasing note in his voice, grunting when a well-aimed elbow meets his side.

“Shut up, I’m not scared.”

Sander’s only reply is a low chuckle and a kiss on that sweet spot under Robbe’s ear that never fails to send a shiver down his spine. Without barely having to move at all considering how close they are, he tilts his head and noses along Sander’s defined jaw, leaving a peck or two on his cheek.

“Now shush, I can’t focus.” He unceremoniously turns away from Sander’s searching lips, a sly grin on his face when he hears an affronted huff.

“Oh I see how it is, you-”

“Shhhh, Wille is talking.”

Robbe loves to be a little shit sometimes, especially if he wants to get a certain reaction from his huffy other half.

“Look how cute he is.” He has to press his lips hard to keep the giggle in when Sander whines in protest.

“Stoooop, why are you being mean to me.” He now has a full-blown pout on his face. “Jerk.”

The laughter finally comes out and Robbe pauses the show, cooing at Sander’s little frowny face and brushing the runaway strands away from his forehead, leaning up to press a kiss there too.

“It’s okay, I still think you’re the cutest prince in the entire kingdom.” He runs a thumb over his jutting lower lip, kissing it once, twice, three times, until the corners of Sander’s mouth pull up.

“Whatever. Simon is cuter than the other one anyway.”

Robbe grins cheekily. “You just think that because he has curly hair like me.” Sander’s jaw drops at that.

“Wow,” he exclaims, voice faux-scandalous as he shakes his head at Robbe. “Someone’s cocky today.” 

“It’s my birthday so it’s allowed.” Winking at him obnoxiously, he turns back to the screen, hands reaching for Sander’s arms to wrap them around himself again as he settles in his embrace with a content sigh before pressing play.

Sander’s quiet behind him for a second, and then his lips touch his ear again, tongue slightly peeking out to play and lick the shell of his ear with just the tip, hot air hitting Robbe’s skin turning his insides into mush, butchering his focus again just as Sander purrs, “I think it’s hot when you’re like that.”

There’s something important happening on screen, but Robbe can’t make any sense of the subtitles because Sander’s lips continue their path down the column of his throat, stopping for a second to suck a kiss in the middle, killing any rational thought Robbe might have had. His hand rushes to Sander’s head to keep him there without his permission, eyes closing as he sighs when the kiss turns into licks and nips to the thin skin.

“Do you think he could kiss you and touch you like that?”

The question breaks the fog in Robbe’s brain for a second, and he barks a laugh at the slight possessiveness in Sander’s voice that’s poorly hidden under a joking tone. 

“Like what?” He presses, excitement bubbling in his stomach when one of Sander’s hands sneaks underneath his t-shirt, fingers grazing the skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake as they finally reach the place Robbe needs them most. 

“Like that.” He flicks his nipple with those black-polish covered nails of his that make him look so hot Robbe’s head spins. “For starters.” He keeps it up, tugging and pinching unhurriedly, with a dirty smirk growing on his face that Robbe can just feel on his collarbone, and he pulls on his hair as he arches his back a little, seeking more of those skillful fingers.

With his hooded eyes, he can see Sander closing the laptop and putting it away quickly before his other hand joins in the fun, a featherlight touch to the growing bulge in his sweatpants, nothing more than teasing for now.

When Sander’s teeth tug at his earring, Robbe lets out a frustrated whine because it’s too much and not enough at the same time, and his boyfriend reads him like a book because he pulls the t-shirt off him to gain full access, mouth latching on his neglected nipple just as his hand dives inside his pants. It doesn’t grant him any relief though, bypassing his dick completely and traveling lower, caressing the soft skin, one finger running back and forth without reaching any further, and Robbe grabs Sander’s thigh in desperation.

“Sander...”

“You didn’t answer me,” Sander whispers in a sweet sweet voice.

“Whaa?” It takes a second for Robbe to understand what he’s asking and he would laugh if his body wasn’t on fire, Sander playing him like a violin.

Also, this playful possessiveness is getting to him, whether he likes it or not.

He does though. Like it.

Oh fuck, he likes it so much.

“Tell me, baby,” Sander breathes into his mouth as he reaches for something Robbe doesn’t see, and he can hear in his voice how it affects him too, can feel him against his lower back, rubbing himself off with minuscule moves, clearly struggling to hold back. 

“You, just you-, fuuuuck,” Robbe’s cut off when two lubed fingers press inside him at the confession, back arching slightly, the feeling so intense he keens and searches blindly for Sander’s lips. Thankfully, Sander doesn’t waste any time and plunges his tongue inside his mouth, swallowing the little whines that escape them with each twist of his fingers.

The rocking behind him gets faster and this is not how Robbe wants this to end so he breaks the kiss, ignoring Sander’s protests as he pulls away from him, only to pull his pants off completely, green eyes following his every move like he’s ready to pounce, and the need inside Robbe’s stomach only grows. He tugs impatiently at Sander’s sweatpants, biting his lip when his hard cock slaps his abdomen, the smirk dancing on Sander’s lips at his reaction liquefying his insides and he crawls closer to him, needing his touch to ground him. 

“You’re still good to go?” He loves how even when it’s hot and heavy Sander still remembers to check in with him.

“Uh-huh,” is the only thing he can come up with now, especially when Sander’s hand settles on his hip bringing them so close there’s no space left between them, guiding his movements just like Robbe likes. He kisses his glistening neck, licking the sweat of his body as Robbe reaches behind to position his slick cock at his entrance, forehead resting against Sander’s as he sinks down fast.

He gasps at the feeling of fullness because it’s always a lot, but Sander’s hands are always there, brushing his sides in a comforting motion, even when his own body is probably screaming at him to move.

“Happy birthday to me,” Robbe lets out a shaky chuckle that ends up in a gasp when Sander laughs too and involuntarily moves inside him. He’s quick to lick into his lips and distract him from the momentary discomfort, and once he’s done with him, the overwhelming need is back double force. 

Sander notices right away, guiding Robbe’s hips to keep grinding for a while before planting his feet on the bed and holding them in place giving several hard jabs that make Robbe hide his face in his neck, cries leaving his mouth with each thrust.

“Like that?”

Robbe just nods helplessly, mouth leaving a wet trail on his skin, but Sander doesn’t seem to mind because he continues his pace, completely taking over once Robbe’s thighs give out and turning him into a mess.

“You’re so hot like this, fuck.” The strain in Sander’s voice tells him he’s getting close so he goes back to bouncing, meeting him in the middle, and it only takes a minute for things to become too much, Sander’s uncoordinated jerks when he’s coming triggering Robbe’s orgasm too.

They stay like that, cooling off while kissing lazily, tongues sliding against each other, but without a rush for now.

Sander pulls back first, their lips smacking when they disconnect. "I'm sorry today didn't work out." Scrunching up his face, he reaches to comb through Robbe's hair consolingly. He leans into the touch before cuddling even closer, seeking warmth when the cold air makes goosebumps appear on his heated skin.

"But I loved today, really. We can go to a concert another time." He kisses the underside of his jaw, sighing dreamily. "And I can't wait for Paris with you."

[irene-sadler]

Sir Reynard and the Red Knight

(aka 'The Tournament')

special notes:

the vibe i chose for this imaginary fair/holiday is a mashup of pieces from medieval christmas and new year's eve celebrations. ofc as I mentioned before most of those were Christianity-based, but some of them had a distintly pre-Christian Anglo-Saxon pagan flavor. now my source material here is from 1827, but the author makes sure to let us know which traditions (he thinks) are older than Christianity. the book (books actually, there's 3 of them total) itself is also kind of a fun read, it's sort of a combo of an almanac/calendar/reference guide/gossip column.

a n y w a y, so, specifically i want to mention (b/c i stole them for this story and i don't want to do that without letting ppl know these are or were real traditions that real people observed) serving a boars' head on christmas day (Essex, England, observed "from time immemorial"), the wassail bowl/toast (a new year custom very definitely from before Christianity and apparently present in various parts of Europe altho I don't have the specific expertise to explain why), and an interesting/weird/gruesome Christmas parade (Kent) which the book describes: "A party of young people procure the head of a dead horse, which is affixed to a pole about four feet in length, a string is tied to the lower jaw, a horse cloth is then attached to the whole, under which one of the party gets, and by frequently pulling the string keeps up a loud snapping noise." This is called a Hodening and whether or not ppl still do it I don't know but, uh, i hope so b/c awesome.

also theres only 1 chapter left if u stuck with it this whole time or, idk, it's 2024 and u read the whole thing at once thanks for bothering love u

----

9.

     “Yes, hello,” Gascon said, pretending not to notice Meve’s displeasure. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he added, as the Baroness and Giselle turned to look curiously down at where he stood in the shadows. The Baroness frowned and pursed her lips judiciously; Giselle considered him and glanced uncertainly at the older women.

    “Anyway,” he continued, an edge of urgency buried in his easy tone, “Do you have a minute to spare?”

    “No,” the Queen said stiffly, turning back toward the empty lists. “I’m busy; whatever it is will have to wait until later.”

    “Oh,” he replied, growing very faintly annoyed, “Because it’s about that thing you wanted last night; just thought you’d be interested t’ know I’ve done it.”

    She hesitated, ignoring the Baroness’s raised eyebrow and Giselle’s uncomfortable confusion, struggled momentarily between curiosity and base pettiness, and finally said, “Yes, fine; I have a few minutes, I suppose.”

    “Fifteen minutes,” the Baroness said, pointedly.

    “No time to waste, then,” said Gascon; he winked at Giselle, who took her cue from the Baroness and frowned disapprovingly back at him, and they hurried off.

    “So, what is it, then?” Meve asked bluntly, as they turned into the town’s streets at a rapid stroll. “I assume you’ve caught the saboteur, else you wouldn’t have bothered me.”

    “Well, I caught Gaheris; he may be the saboteur, or may not,” Gascon said, disregarding her tone. “Gaspar thinks he is, though, and he’s th’ only one who saw th’ intruder close up last night, so odds are good he’s your man.”

    “Really?” She abandoned her moodiness in favor of mild surprise, and then asked, “When did this happen?”

    “Oh, only about an hour ago. Less, even. Seemed like there was no real need for a public scene, so I just had him snatched off the street and, you know - stashed somewhere convenient,” Gascon explained, leading the way down an alley and into a butcher. The owner nodded and smiled to him as he passed through the door and headed toward the back, spotted the Queen, and instantly looked away at nothing in particular. Pug and Gaspar waited in the yard behind the shop, standing guard over a man with a bag on his head and a bandage around his left ankle. Gascon nodded at Pug and she yanked the bag away; Gaheris squinted in the light and surveyed his surroundings - two large, brightly interested pigs in a pen, his sinister pair of captors, and, finally, Meve and Gascon. He sighed.

    “Got ‘im in one piece, as you wanted,” Pug announced in her gruff voice; a dubious claim, as Gaheris had a black eye and a split lip, but Gascon nodded approvingly and jerked his thumb over his shoulder, toward the shop.

    “Wait inside for a bit,” he said; Pug and Gaspar departed, leaving their captive to his deserved fate.

    “Now, sir,” Meve said briskly to Gaheris; if she had any doubts about his culpability, she kept them firmly to herself. “Let’s not waste time with falsehoods or denials.”        

    “No,” he said, resignedly, “Doesn’t seem to be much point in trying.”

    “Quite. So, explain what it is you’ve been up to, then.”

    “Start with last night,” Gascon added, as the squire took a few too many seconds to think it over. “Hurry up.”

    “Ah, well. I was trying to get hold of a piece of equipment I knew was among Sir Odo’s things in the barn,” he said. “The girth from a saddle.”

    “Continue,” the Queen said, as he paused, clearly thinking the question answered.

    “Well, obviously I didn’t get it, since that - that thug sliced my ankle t’ the bone when I tried. Seems the girth held up, though, regardless, through today; probably because Sir Odo don’t take many hits, luckily for him.”

    “No, it’s because I found it last night and changed it out for a new one,” Gascon said, angrily. “You’re the one who cut it, are you?”

    Gaheris nodded.

    “I knew it,” the Duke muttered; Meve waved his self-congratulatory comment away, scowling.

    “When did you do it?”

    “Oh, a month ago, or more,” he said. “Just before the duel against Sir Holt.”

    “Why?”

    He blinked at the question and said, as if it was obvious, “Because Sir Holt told me to, in hopes he’d win.”

    “You did a bad job, then,” Gascon snapped; Gaheris looked mildly offended.

    “No,” he said. “No, I didn’t. The girth held, did it not? Sir Odo won - or, well he could have, if he’d wanted to.”

    He looked at his interrogators’ baffled stares, and then explained, patiently, “Look - I cut through the leather, left just enough to hold a strain for a good while, glued it so it’d look like nothing, and told Holt I’d done what he wanted. Simple. I just didn’t have the chance to get it back, after the fight; too many people hanging around who might’ve seen me. If I had done, nobody would have been the wiser.”

    Meve stared at him, torn between confusion and anger, opened her mouth, and closed it again as an echo of distant horns bounced off the buildings.

    “Damn,” she said. “I have to go. Gascon, find Sir Holt.”

    “What should I do with him?” he asked, as she turned to leave; she hesitated, considered her options, and came to a hasty decision.

    “Just keep tabs on him, don’t let him leave town, and - and we’ll sort this mess out, later.”

    “You’ll find him in the tavern, no doubt,” Gaheris said wearily to Gascon, as she quickly departed.

      She nearly ran back through the streets, but she was still late; she returned to the lists to find the Baroness had started the final round without her. However, she she was in time to see Nolda avoid an immediate defeat by the same method she had used on Sir Eres, but Reynard survived her trick, when his fellow knight hadn’t. She nodded in satisfaction at the display.

    “Your man is a quick study, as he’s always been,” said the Baroness, as if Meve had never been away. The next pass involved no deceptions from either side, nor any displays of brilliance; Nolda blocked an ordinary sort of attack on her shield, and never touched Sir Odo.

    “He’s testing the waters,” Meve said, slightly bored with her favorite’s typically cautious tactics. “How long have they been at it?”

    “You only missed one pass; the foreigner’s better at this than I expected.”

    “She’s tricky,” Giselle noted, appreciatively. “What’s the Count doing, there?”

    There was a short pause; Meve glanced downfield and answered, “Oh, he wants a different lance, I imagine.”

    The delay took a full half minute, due to some confusion on Ethan’s part; the Baroness mumbled a displeased remark about the squire’s ineptitude, and then the combat began again.

    “He wants to make up for Nolda’s left-handedness,” the Baroness explained, louder, “That’s what the long spear is for. Most people don’t learn to fight the way she does -”

    She broke off; Reynard’s change of weapon had answered, and he had dealt a strike that had nearly unseated his opponent; she managed to stay in the saddle by luck or skill and they lined up again.

    “He has her figured out; this’ll be th’ end of it,” said Meve. The Baroness nodded agreement. Giselle looked unconvinced, but, in the end, Reynard landed a direct attack to his opponent’s helm and Nolda crashed to earth at long last.

    “A devilishly difficult play,” the Baroness said, in the silence that followed. “Dangerous, too.”

    Reynard had turned to look behind himself, before his horse had even reached the end of the barricade; Nolda lay still on the ground for a few moments, and then, as her husband vaulted the fence and came running toward her, stirred and sat up. She waved an irritated hand at Bohault and Reynard, who had trotted back and dropped from his horse as soon as he was rid of his lance, but neither paid attention to her gestures or her repeated insistence that she was perfectly fine. The crowd’s general din returned, drowning out their conversation; Meve breathed a relieved sigh and reluctantly turned her thoughts back to Gaheris and Sir Holt, and then - she frowned slightly - Gascon’s mysterious absence during the day.

    “Pity you can’t make her a knight,” Giselle said, of Nolda, interrupting her consideration; Meve’s frown grew thoughtful.

    “A knight,” she repeated to herself, under her breath, watching the muddle on the field break up - Reynard back to his horse, Bohault and Nolda to hers - a vague connection, or suspicion, growing in the back of her mind. She turned abruptly to the Baroness, interrupted an ongoing reminisce on the handful of times she’d seen another knight employ a tactic similar to Reynard’s winning strike, and said, “Listen, Hilde - the black knight; do you know who he is?”

    The Baroness hesitated, slightly confused, and replied, choosing her words carefully, “I believe so, but - wasn’t that what you and the Duke spoke about?”

    “No,” the Queen said, disgruntled. “No, it wasn’t.”      

    “Ah,” she said, looking away toward the approaching victors, “Well, perhaps you should. Count Odo, congratulations on another victory; well fought, Nolda. My lord, you’ve won quite a fine horse, I believe, and you, madam, a sword. They’ll be bringing them along shortly.”

      Any personal urgency she felt to finally sort out her ongoing affairs was wasted; the prizes took very little time to hand out, but a number of unrelated problems were brought to her individual attention as soon as the victors rode away. She sent Giselle back to her tavern with genuine gratitude for her service, dealt out various solutions, and then at last she and the Baroness set off toward the castle. The streets of the city were packed, twilight was setting in, and there was no way to hurry their progress no matter how their guard tried. A wagon that had lost a wheel blocked the way, first, and then a succession of other disruptions: a traveling comedic play about a sorcerer and some maidens, some cows wandering loose in the street, a troupe of drunken minstrels playing festive tunes, a strange procession led by a solemn youth holding a freshly cut horse’s head mounted on a pole as a banner, a group of offended clerics in its wake, handcarts selling buns and ale, and, finally, on the bridge over the castle moat, an armored knight still on his charger, who would not be shifted by man or beast until Meve stepped out of the torchlit crowd and threatened to remove him herself.

    Then there was yet another feast, this time held in the hall and attended by more of the usual crowd - but, of course, with the horde of knights and sundry that had participated in the jousts, somewhat more of them than normal. There were the typical, expected customs - a boar’s head served, bowls of spiced ale passed around, a number of favors and pardons bestowed, gifts received (and given; Count Odo, for one, courteously gave the warhorse he’d won earlier in the day to Nolda, who accepted it in a fiercely embarrassed but otherwise gracious fashion) - and various other ancient rituals observed.

    “I would’ve asked if you thought giving her the horse was a good idea,” Reynard said privately to the Queen, during the Mayor’s inevitable remarks, “But I didn’t catch you in time. If I’m honest it’s less a gift and more a bribe, of a sort; Ethan’s left-handed, same as her, and I thought it might make it easier to convince her to teach him.”

    “There were some delays getting back,” she replied, also in an undertone, her eyes resolutely fixed on the speaker as he recited a hopeful list of future developments for the upcoming year. “This whole afternoon’s been nothing but delays, in fact.”

    “I’ll tell you about it later,” she added, quickly, as the speech ended, aimed a quick but pointed glance at the distant Gascon, who immediately slipped out a side door, and then dismissed the court in the exact words she’d recited for ten years, and, before her, her late husband, and his father, and their distant grandfathers, for all of remembered history.

      Finally getting rid of her guests took much longer than the traditional close to the winter solstice did. As a result, it was past midnight before she made the solitary climb up the stairs to her office, looking forward to finally having a quiet minute to think. However, Reynard and Gascon - and Gaheris - were within, despite the late hour; the squire stopped in the middle of a sentence and all three men automatically turned her way when she stepped through the door. She waved an impatient hand at him to continue and leaned against her own desk, hiding her weariness behind a cold stare. Gaheris returned to repeating his confession; Reynard listened in silence, his expression drifting subtly between offense and genuine confusion. At the end, he frowned and asked, “You - pretended to sabotage my equipment? Why? Why not do it properly, I mean?”

    The squire shrugged.

    “It’s - listen; before I go on, you should know Holt’s an ass, and a stubborn one at that. Yes, I see you’ve all noticed. Well, I couldn’t dissuade him when th’ idea came into his fool head, but I’d no wish t’ see him win a fight by such a trick, against such an obviously superior opponent. It’s not right, and, also, would be easily seen through. What I did seemed the simplest solution.”

    “You could have refused,” Reynard pointed out; Gaheris smiled pityingly at him and shook his head. His response drew an exasperated comment from Meve.

    “You could have done nothing at all, and told him otherwise.”

    He frowned, again mildly offended.

    “I’m no liar,” he said. “If I can find any other solution, I mean. They say a half-truth’s better than a lie, don’t they?”

     Reynard blinked, considered, and then shook his head. Gascon shrugged his shoulders, grudgingly.

    “You’re clearly a capable man,” Meve said. “Why do you serve someone you know isn’t?”

    Gaheris shook his head again, helplessly.

    “Holt’s always been like this,” he explained, “Ever since he was a boy. He’s a decent fighter, but he’s too competitive for his own good, and he’s still not learned t’ pick his battles. However, he is my little brother - well, half-brother; my mother married Sir Ulrich after my father died. He was a stonemason,” he explained, seeing the Queen raise a questioning eyebrow, a gleam of challenge in his dark eyes. “His name was Gors.”

    When she failed to react to his admission, he continued:

    “Anyway, she wanted me t’ look after Holt, best I can. He isn’t a bad person, really, he just -”

    He shrugged.

    “He can’t help how he is, when he’s in a mood, and when he isn’t he’s not the worst of men, or the worst of nobles, for that matter. He’s never struck a knight who’s yielded, for one, and he’s not one to steal or run villainous among th’ yeomen. And, he’s all the family I got left,” he finally finished. Meve nodded and said nothing for a long moment; she noticed that he couldn’t have been any older than herself, but he briefly appeared gray and worn down. She was, to her mild irritation, somewhat sympathetic to his troubles. Gascon glanced from her icy frown to Gaheris’s tired stare, curiously. Reynard watched her carefully.

    “Keep him under guard,” she said to Gascon. “I’m not sure what to do with him or his brother, just yet. Wait - leave him on the landing; the guards there will look after him for the moment. I’ve another matter to discuss, before you go.”

      “He’s the black knight,” she said to Reynard, as Gascon stepped back in without his captive. “Did you know?”

    “No, of course not,” the Count said, frowning slightly. “Although, in truth, th’ idea has crossed my mind, but I found it - unlikely.”

    Gascon hesitated, then shrugged, grinned broadly, and said, “You caught me at last, m’lady; how’d you figure it?”

    “The Baroness it was that discovered you, not me,” Meve said, crossing her arms stubbornly; she attempted to appear angry, but in the end managed only mild, slightly amused, annoyance. “Also, she appears to have found me out, as well, incidentally. In fact, there seems to be very little she doesn’t know.”

    “She’s uncommonly sharp, no doubt about it,” Gascon agreed, readily.

    “So,” she continued, “Is there anything at all to be gained by asking you what you were doing, today?”

    “Won’t tell you unless you first promise not t’ bite my head off,” he said promptly.

    “Yes, very well, as it’s the solstice, but don’t expect any more favors from me before the summer, at earliest. I mean it, Gascon.”

    Reynard sat down, shaking his head at them; Gascon nodded and said, “Fair’s fair. Well, then, it’s a short tale: I won that fight against Sir Holt, then I saw Gaheris come limping ‘round to scrape him up off the turf, and it all came together clear as mud, so I decided it was time t’ stop playing at knights for the day and do some real work.”

    “You could have appeared in the joust as yourself,” Reynard remarked, almost idly, “And not as -”

    “As me,” Meve interrupted, a hint of her previous ire returning.

    “Yes, well - the black knight’s more interesting than I am,” he explained, with a broad shrug. “People have heard of his prowess, or what have you; the dangerous reputation’s an advantage, of sorts.”

    “Yes, we’ve heard, in fact,” Meve said, coldly. “Slew a werewolf, did you?”

    “Sure did,” Gascon replied. “Or, I helped, anyhow. There was a witcher involved. Like Gaheris said: half a truth’s better than a lie, so I let the former take precedence.”

    “That’s not the saying, as you know perfectly well. It’s worse,” Reynard said, rolling his eyes. “Half a truth is worse than a lie.”

    Gascon shrugged at him, grinning slightly. Meve interrupted their tangent, impatiently.

    “And you killed a dragon, they say?”

    “Not I,” the Duke said, quickly, eyeing the Queen’s scowl. “Th’ only dragonslayer here is yourself - although, I did kill a pretty big snake in a roadside inn. The landlady was most impressed. So was some minstrel who happened t’ be around, it appears; he has, uh, embellished th’ incident, somewhat.”

    “Yes, that much is obvious,” Reynard noted, “But how’d he know it was the black knight who did the deed and not merely one Gascon Brossard?”

    At last, Gascon turned uncomfortably self-conscious and clammed up; Meve watched him squirm for a long moment and decided, after a glance at the amused gleam in Reynard’s eye, to not to press the issue further.

    “And you gave poor Sir Orlac a dunking,” she remarked, finally; Gascon looked relieved and seized on the change in subject.

    “Yes, that story’s true,” he admitted. “He’s not a bad fighter, at all, thought he don’t seem to enjoy it much. It took some convincing t’ even get him to go against me, actually, but it was worth the time, in th’ end, to get th’ extra practice.”

    “You have improved, somewhat,” Reynard observed, casually. He shot a quick look at Meve; she spotted it and broke off her intended response, frowning. Gascon either missed or ignored their exchange and said, brightly, “Why thank you, sir.”

    “Although,” the knight continued, “It remains to be seen if you can beat me just yet; Meve, of course, has already unhorsed you once, so no there’s burning question to be answered on that account.”

    “By a trick,” Gascon said, and then, as Reynard shrugged unconcernedly, added, “Look, I only really wanted t’ fight Sir Holt and beat him, again, to prove I could, like. I had no notion of much else.”

    “Yes, very likely,” Meve muttered, rolling her eyes; Reynard continued, despite her:

    “Not afraid to lose, are you?”

    “Of course not; it happens all the time,” Gascon said, mildly indignant.

    “Well, then, tomorrow, if you’ve no other plans, let’s see how good you’ve really become, shall we? Without your intimidating disguise, I mean.”

    “Well, all right,” the Duke said, doubtfully, clearly wary about what exactly he was agreeing to. “I suppose I’m not busy, but - “

    “Good. I’ll see you first thing in the morning, then,” Reynard said, a suggestion of finality in his voice; Gascon still looked uncertain, but nodded and then made a tactical retreat to “see to those other matters.”

    “What the devil are you at, Reynard?” Meve asked, the instant he was gone. He stood up, strode across the room with a self-satisfied smile, and wrapped his arms around her.

    “You’ve had a long day,” he said, “Let me worry about it.”

    “Ugh. Fine, then; do what you want,” she said, ingraciously, leaned her forehead against his chest, and continued with a muffled sigh, “What do you think I should do with Holt? I can’t very well banish him for trying to cheat in a duel, much as I’d like to - he is the sole legal heir to Sir Ulrich, who has been a relatively loyal supporter of the crown - nor can I demote him, since he isn’t one of my own knights.”

    “Just ban him from your tournaments, and the rest of the realm will follow,” he said, as if it was obvious, “It’s the worst thing that could happen to a young knight.”

    “You’d know better than I,” she remarked, unfolded her arms, slid them around his waist, and added, “What about Gaheris?”

    “I don’t know,” Reynard said, “He’s not so easy to deal with.”

    “The trouble is,” Meve said, darkly, “- the trouble is that, in his circumstances, he’s done nothing worse than you or I have in the past, which makes me feel something of a hypocrite if I consider having him arrested for treason - as I certainly could, given your indispensable position and high rank.”

    “Yes, a - a similar thought crossed my own mind, to be honest.”

    “Well, it’s true,” she said, raising her head and frowning up at him. “Isn’t it? Reginald -”

    “He wasn’t quite so bad as Holt.”

    “Because he was older, and the King, and no other reason. Well, and he had you around to clean up after his worst decisions. And, his sons - my sons - are the same, or worse, than Sir Holt. Or were, I mean. Anseis certainly is, in any case.”

    “Perhaps,” Reynard said, thoughtfully, “There’s no need to do anything to Gaheris, at all.”

    “As you’re th’ one he wronged, in th’ end I think what happens to him should really be your decision,” Meve said, shrugging.

    “Well, then, speaking from experience, the man’s trials in keeping control of his brother are worse than anything you might think up.”

    “Yes, I know what you mean. I’ve no wish to see him hang or rot in prison, but banishment would be no curse to him, and we’d have to contend with Holt still, regardless, but without a convenient manager. What a waste; were he noble-born, I’d have some use for a man of his talents, and I could more easily secure his future loyalty. A shame, to have Holt be th’ one who inherits old Ulrich’s lands and titles, and Gaheris remain a squire still.”

    “I agree,” Reynard said. “However, that problem only you can solve.”

    She looked into his eyes, thoughtfully, and nodded.

[artistlove17]

Me with my parents 110% I've finally gotten fed up with my dad. I went over there to pick up my Stepsister and while I was there I dropped off his credit card (that he had given me to get gas and food). I'm cutting myself off because I'm tired of him feeling as if he can hold anything over my head. It's just annoying as all hell to have your parents act like total jackasses and lie to your face before turning around and pretending to be these perfect people. My dad and stepmom sat and told my stepsiblings that they didn't have the money to take them to see their family last summer... And then LITERALLY 2 weeks later my stepmom went and got a brand new 2017 model car... Traded in her car for it and started making those expensive ass payments. She even made a comment about how it was costing her more than her other car (which was also new and perfectly fine!) And all I could think was "So.. you can spend thousands of dollars on a new car that you didn't even NEED. But you can't afford to buy two plane tickets or provide gas money to send your kids to visit their grandmother and brother two states over!?" Then my dad is always... ALWAYS... asking when I'm going to get a job, where I'm trying to get a job, if I'm trying to get a job. (I have been applying and no one will hire me because I have no experience!) I'm in college. My classes go from 7:30am to 3:30pm... And that doesn't include the 2-4 hours of studying/homework I have to do afterwards. I literally don't have TIME for a job. But he always claims "a lot of people work while they're in school!" IM NOT ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE!!! I can't stay focused all day at school... Have time to study so I can keep my grades up... Then spend at least 5-8 hours working a job! There is only 24 hours in a day... How the actual hell am I expected to do that!? 8 hours of school + 2 hours of studying/homework + 5-8 hours at work. That's 15-18 (maybe more depending on homework and job) hours being on my feet, using my brain, and getting shit done. That leaves me around 8 or 9 hours to also go home and do my laundry (and any other chores I need to do) and shower and sleep. That leaves me NO time to myself. No time to take a break and do what I need to do to even be mentally stable. I'm already struggling as it is. I have PCOS. I'm constantly in pain. I battle anxiety and depression every fucking day of my life. I deal with constantly being sick. Then I have to deal with life stresses and situations. Having my dad constantly asking when I'm going to get a job seriously pisses me off and stresses me out even more. The ONLY thing he pays for me is my car insurance, and I don't even know if he is still paying that! My card is out of date and he hasn't given me a new one so I don't know if he's even paid it!! Yet here he is, talking down to me and acting like NOTHING I do is ever good enough. I always have to do more. I'm apparently supposed to run myself into the damn dirt! Is that what will make him happy!? For me to try so hard I end up failing at everything?? Or for me to finally drive myself off the fucking cliff I constantly feel like I'm on the edge of!? Then he wants to start arguments on fucking Facebook like a damn child!? He literally HAD to comment on my post about this crazy lady who was arguing with me when she had no idea what she was talking about and part of my post was "she literally could have figured it out with one Google search" and he HAD to start in with his old person rant. Claiming MY generation is the problem and we hate all the older people and went on and on about how we can't trust the internet and "you learn more from life experience." WHAT FUCKING LIFE EXPERIENCE!?!? ALL HE DOES IS EAT, SLEEP, SHIT, GO TO WORK, AND FUCKING REPEAT!! He doesn't go outside of this state more than maybe once a year... And he only goes one state over, which isn't saying much seeing as we LIVE on the fucking border!! The state line is literally 7 minutes from my house!!! And he acts like he's been around the world and done SO MUCH with his life... HE HASNT EVEN BEEN OUTSIDE OF THE UNITED STATES!!! Then he ended his immature little rant with "I'm just stating the facts!" When NO BITCH YOU WERE STATING YOUR DUMBASS OPINION!!!! I AM the one who has been all over the country! I flew to the complete other side of the United States to be with my best friend after she tried to commit suicide!! 👏LIFE EXPERIENCE!! 👏 And what I was even talking about in my post was RESEARCH! Which means reading and searching and studying to figure out all sides of the story. So you can be INFORMED and knowledgeable about what you're speaking on. Studying scholarly articles for HOURS ON END so you know as much as possible about what you're talking about. Watching documentaries and travelling to places you're trying to learn about. THATS WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT. And he literally started an argument about it... Pretty much calling me stupid and acting like he is this all knowing and great individual who knows SOOOO much about everything. Literally tried to tell me that I was dumb for trying to RESEARCH and STUDY things and claimed "You'll learn more from life experience!!" WHAT LIFE EXPERIENCE!? IM IN COLLEGE! HE WORKS IN A FUCKING FACTORY!!! Does he mean him abondonig me when I was a baby!? How he LET my stepfather beat me with a belt until I was black and blue and covered in welts!? I was so fucked up from my back to my thighs that my Grandmother threatened my stedads life with a fucking butcher knife!! She told him she'd "deMAN" him if he ever touched me again. Yet when I called my father begging and crying for him to come get me.. he told me to suck it up and said it "was just a wooping" and that I'd "get over it by tomorrow." When NO. What happened was, I wasn't able to sit properly for a fucking week! I was a child who was scared out of her mind and hurt. That's my "life experience" thanks to him. Even when I was still in high school he tried to do that shit. Would talk about how "high" his test scores were and tried to make it seem like I was stupid compared to him... When I was the one getting scholarships and ACTUALLY going to college!! While all he's EVER done is work in a fucking factory!! And I understand there are different "kinds" of smart, like book smart vs street smart. HE IS NEITHER AND I AM BOTH!! AND IM SICK OF HIM ACTING LIKE IM SOME STUPID AND NAIVE LITTLE GIRL!! He is the idiot. He is the one with literally no fucking common sense. All he did my entire childhood was smoke pot with his BLACK friends... And then got pissed when he found out I fucked a black guy! Got pissed when he found out my Stepsister hangs out with black guys (and has probably slept with a couple herself)! How the fuck are you going to be racist and judge people after YEARS of you BEING one of those people you now get pissed at!? I hate racism anyway, it's fucking stupid, but I hate even more when someone is a fucking hypocrite! Luckily for him he hasn't said shit about me being bisexual to my face. I'd probably knock his damn teeth out his mouth if he did.... That's how fucking fed up I am. Hell, my mom doesn't even know because I already hear enough homophobic shit from her. And then they both wonder why I never visit. Why I never call or text. Because it's ALWAYS drama and bullshit with them!!! They don't know shit about my depression. They don't know shit about my anxiety. They don't know shit about my eating disorder. My dad acts like my PCOS diagnosis is a joke and that it's some fake disease I made up! Which is fucking stupid seeing as it affects literally 1 in 6 women!! That means statistically me and at least one other girl in each of my classes have it! There are whole pages and articles and books about it! There's a movement right now to raise awareness and money for PCOS! We have our own ribbon and our color is teal! IT'S NOT JUST SOME SHIT I MADE UP FOR PITY!! I'm just so goddamn sick of it all. So. Goddamn. Sick.

[yvvaine]

I was wondering if any [past or present] Jonerys, Pro-Daenerys fans like myself feel this way.....?

Firstly Id say please be nice i just enjoy analyzing the shit out of fandoms I like, (im a history/polysci major ((with an emphasis on Peace Justice and & Conflict Studies)) all i do is analyze and try to be diplomatic lmao) but considering all they petty drama between both ships as well as pro/anti Daenerys stans ON BOTH SIDES I’m going to be “That Person” and at least ask for people to be respectful/civil, I want to hear from everyone and their metas/what they think which is why i tagged like, all the tags, no matter if you love her/the ship or cant stand it, as long as everyone can keep civil So firstly I’ve loved Dany both books and show from the beginning. She’s gorgeous, wants to be the best person she can be, and her hair/fashion style game is always ON POINT.  That being said, somewhere around season 5 i think i’ve found my opinion on her cooling a little bit, ep after ep, till now. Like I still like her bc she was my first character love on the show but I’ve def soured in my opinion on her. Maybe it’s because I love learning about the subject that im more baised (im hoping thats the case) but she just seemed to have no interest in actual governance, just the reputation (esp of being the ‘rebel queen’)/the awe/the power/the thrill of the adoration that went along with it to the point where I feel like though she still wants to be a ‘good queen’ or at least wants to be seen that way, she doesnt want to do much work for the title. Like yeah she freed all the slaves and that was a def progressive and awesome move on her part (major props! slavery is sin and im glad someone recognized that who had the power to do something about it) but she didnt handle that aftermath or ensuing problems well at all nor really mulled heavily on the subject to find the best solution. She just got fustrated with pretty basic/common (albeit complex in themselves) issues of standard governance and kind of went agh! fuck this! (obv not actual quotes but that was the vibe I got). And then ESPECIALLY after season 7 her character has kind of nagged at me in the back of brain which i hate but its inherent like its just a feeling i cant help it?? I just dont know why to be honest that Im feeling so negative towards this character i used to love.  The whole ‘ bEnD thE knEe ‘ thing w/ Jon and yet pinning it on Jon’s pride not equally on his and her own was more than a little hypocritical, when hon they can discuss it later like at that point they have two common enemies the WW and Cersei they both want to do away with, and then again with the Bend the Knee or Die bit w/ the Lannister soldiers. In fact the whole sequence before that point felt kind of villinous I dearsay, I mean  deliberately burning the harvest that most of westeros needs for the winter or even strategically not willing to try, and well, nOOt intentionally burn the food considering its winter, the harvest is over (so likely not much is gonna grow in the time being) when she has a G I A N T ass army of her own to think of feeding???? Like i get it is war shit happens soldiers die but the F O O D ? Was that an impuslive in the moment mistake or did she just not give a fuck? And back to the aftermath scene/Bend the Knee 2.0, her speech was again quite hypocritical...and burning dickon?????? not willing to keep prisoners???? either bend or die??? I actually am glad she did away with Papa Tarly bc he was an awful human, but dickon????? a young idealistic man about to loose his father??? the heir to a major ally/house???? And honestly that bend or die strategy is soooooo dumb bc now she cant trust any of them like theyre only bending the knee out of self preservation homie, no one wants to die. they bend  the knee to survive and now they all of the sudden think youre their queen? Nah fam, prisoners were better, all you got are spies in your camps or people willing to backstab you at the smallest promise of coin. And i dont want that for my girl

IDK the whole “im gonna BREAK THE WHEEL,,,,,,,,yet im stating my claim mainly on my housename (aka the predominant force of said wheel for a literal dynasty) and the fact that i can scare people who otherwise are unconvinced bc lets be real westeros has had a bad run of rulers a lot of which were Targs in the past couple decades, into submission bc ill burn you otherwise???” doesnt sit well with me nor does it feel like the character ive been rooting for the past five-ish seasons. She just doesnt seem to put into effort on understanding Westeros, why things go wrong, being self-critical or sharing the blame,thinking on what a “good” ruler would do.... anyone else feeling this way and if so do you think this is just shitty writing? D&D butchering her character? or a new arc for her? perhaps the way shes always been? She just seems like a tantruming child bratty and entitled idk (a beautiful child but still)  As for jonerys...... im not gonna go into it much but how are other shippers happy????????? I honestly dont understand. I was SO looking forward to this season/this ship. like so much! But it felt so forced? And i know a lot of people claim its cause its rushed but tbh we’ve had a lot of romances in a similar time frame that felt like A C T U A L romances.....even Talisa/Robb who the Northerners will prob compare any of this too were so much better. THIS WAS MY EPIC SHIP DUDE. I feel the dany side of things (took a while but theres def heart eyes) and yet Jon???? He felt hollow. Still does even after sex. Im so disapointed but more than that I cant see the romance or the chemistry. He looks constipated. Hes never smiled like with his teeth around her the way hes done w others he cares deepily about (ygritte, toramund, sansa, even fkin gendry in the first scene they had together). He never reveals anything about himself. And between the “my queen” ep (and remember he was look warm when discussing her to toramund throughout it) and the previous the only thing that changed was that he saw the actual difference dragons made against WW. You could argue she saved them all too but that doesnt make you fall in love w someone out of the blue and also people have saved his ass before and??? Sansa w the vale anyone??? (Not an argument for jonsa js its happened) (though ill admit ive transitioned to loathing jonerys and loving jonsa more as a potential couple in the space of seven eps where if you asked me I wouldve been like PSH u cray. I never thought it would happen in a mill years but D&D ruined my ship and here i am! Shipping aside tho since its best too look at these things as neutral as possible).  Anyways the sigh of his after she left and when he pretended to be asleep.... idk. The only scene that felt genuine and where Jon smiled and it didnt look like a full on grimace and they actually kinda joked around was really nice and at the pit at the finale and if they do a LOT more of basic romance stuff like that I could ship it again but. It was followed by boatsex and boy.  I was hoping boatsex might rekindle my like for the two together. I could see the chemistry the passion. I was hoping the passion would overwhelm me and make up for the rest. But instead......like there was no foreplay, it lasted 2 seconds, and it was overplayed by brans voice and a reminder of future conflict or at the very least major angst b/w the two. i didnt see the parallel between regear and lyanna playing alongside their scene as anything romantic or that it should be taken as such. and the look they shared.... I was hoping jon would bring it bc Dany’s look in her eyes is like soooo smitten and adorable and say what you will I still have a space in my heart for her and still dont want her to suffer, but again Jon looks like oh shit/constipated. And not in a good oh shit way either.  There is a bunch more too but Imma stop there bc Im just tired at this point.  So many things were just....off this season. And it cant all be blamed on the “rushed” time frame. I’ve read the undercover lover theory and hon it makes the most sense (not perfect sense but still, more than what we’ve been poorly spoon fed) but im not willing to believe it just yet. Still, maybe D&D are just butchering a lot of things like making the romance believable and stuff for the sake of time that could be true i guess. But they like to go AHA GOT U so  Idk I dont find a lot of meta in the jonerys tag bc honestly (((((i think its bc the tag and ship are more popular and theirs more people both good and bad)))) it doesnt seem like snowballing theories is something all fans take really well in the tag at all. But whatever. I really want to know, is there any meta or theories im missing to either validate the icky feeling Im haveing about D or her “romance” or on the flipside anything that might make me change my mind about it? Theories, meta people! I just want to reiderate im not trying to hate on anyone or any point of view and I will flag any comment anti one ship or person or another if its plain hateful or rude. I just want to understand it and see what Im missing, esp because of how much I was looking forward to her arc and jonerys’ dynamic and how much the words “falling short” dont seem to cover it. And to see if im not the only one to either have critique on the ship or her character [or even actually change ships] Also i apologize for how much ive said “IDK” i just..... I DONT KNOW 

[clown-bait]

29 Neibolt ST (Monster Roommate AU)

Alright I’m just going to start posting this anyway since I have so much of it already written. This is my first venture into writing so go easy on me. Im normally an artist not a writer. I’ll intro my OC too she’s a grungey stoner girl going through some big changes. Those changes being that she’s slowly turning into a nosferatu style vampire. She “Dropped out” of bartending school, dumped her abusive ex and moved to Maine where she found out that every monster in the world had the same idea. Eventually she moves in with everyones favorite clown and feelings start to happen. This chapter is just intros really smut and romance is coming. Mostly a parody humor fic with horror and romance thrown in. There is lots of gore, NSFW, drug use, alcohol, death, swearing, and violence. So you’ve been warned. Chapter 1 The Contract She had been there for a month now. Somehow she was still alive, and living amongst monsters. “You know…It’s not that bad mom, the house is a bit old but it’s charming you get used to it after awhile.” as she says this a chunk of the Old Well House’s ceiling falls onto the ancient dining room table. She flinches a natural reaction left over from humanity’s days as a prey animal but she recovers quickly mostly unfazed. “Visit? Oooooh no, no, thats not a great idea. Roommates are a bit quirky you wouldn't like them.” she said into the phone. Quirky was a massive understatement. She opened the fridge and let out a groan of frustration at the severed head and arm sitting on top of her tupperware. “that son of a bitch” she whispered “Hey mom call you back, kitchen trouble. Love ya.” she hung up the phone and shouted “ALRIGHT WHO’S IS THIS?!” her voice echoed through out the old decaying house. She was met by heavy breathing and guttural grunting the kind you would hear in a horror movie sound clip. She turned to the doorway towards the owner of the sound, a hulking behemoth donning a butchers apron. He’s covered in old blood soaked handprints and his signature mask made of the leather from a human face. “What the hell Leatherface you have your own fucking fridge for this shit” she stated unafraid. Now one would be wondering at this point why is this girl so relaxed? Why has she not died of a heart attack or been murdered by these horrible housemates. This clearly wasn't your average college drop out living situation, not by a long shot. No my friend, this is the story of a human who literally lived with her monsters and in the process became one herself. But the only thing you need to know right now dear reader, is that Lucy Smith never turned down a good deal.  It all started when she wanted to get out of the city. Adam and our dear Lucy had just broken up after being her high school sweetheart and boyfriend for 5 long years. It happened at the end her second to last year of college, he had become an absolute monster and she was done with his shit. Lucy wanted to get away. Away from everything that reminded her of him and the life they had shared together. “I’ll go to the other side of the country,” she thought “as far as possible I’ll go to fucking Maine.”   When she found the house it looked abandoned. “Fucking hell this must be a fake ad or something. No way this place is inhabitable.” she groaned but there was a small sign in the window of the house on Neibolt Street that read “Room for Rent” in badly drawn red ink. “Wellp I got nothing to lose anyway, either I die via whatever serial killer is squatting here or the drinking will get me later.” She had next to nothing other than a car, her belongings and enough money for three months worth of rent. This really was her only option. As she walked by the sun flowers haphazardly planted in the front yard in some sad attempt to make the house look pleasant, the front door creaked open on its own. “Yeah I’m definitely going to get murdered.” she mumbled. Lucy stepped cautiously in the doorway “Um hello? I’m here about the room?” something scuttled on the floor above her, it sounded like the pitter patter of children’s feet. Lucy’s heart began to pound her blue eyes wide now and her senses heightened. “Anyone?” she called out into the decrepit house. Lucy made her way to the window and picked up the for rent sign clutching it tightly to her chest. She was an avid horror fan, and she was no idiot. This house screamed ghost murderer she began to step further into the house when suddenly the door slammed shut. “FUCK” she shouted trying to pry it back open but it wouldn't budge “ALRIGHT ASSHOLE” she yelled “I’m fucking done with this game! You going to discuss the room with me or not?!” a door in a different room had creaked open and Lucy could have sworn she heard the faint sound of bells. “This isn't funny bitch” she yelled nervously searching for an exit “be brave be brave be brave” she whispered to herself. Down the hall she heard footsteps from something large they seemed to be dragging across the floor. Fucking hide you idiot her brain told her she quickly and silently bolted to the kitchen, almost on the verge of tears now cursing herself for even getting into this situation. She frantically searched the room for something to hide in and a half open cabinet caught her eye. She made a dash for it when she hear the jingle again this time louder and coming form the basement of the Well-house. She reached for the rotting door and screamed when something grey and furry leapt out at her. It smelled almost dead and its eyes were lifeless and faded. The creature was a very pissed off dirty grey cat. “Holy shit little guy” she managed to say. The cat darted off into the house and Lucy let her guard down slightly breathing a sigh of relief, only to turn around to meet a twisted smile with long fangs and glowing yellow eyes. Suddenly the demon clown shot a gloved claw out around her throat. Lucy passed out from sheer terror, dropping the for rent sign on the ground next to her.  ___________ Lucy awoke to voices, they were twisted and clearly agitated. Their tones were enough to make someones skin crawl. Her thoughts were foggy and her head ached from hitting it on her way down. She moved to rub it but she found she was tied to a chair, she thrashed a bit in a sad attempt to escape. the girl knew knew it wouldn't work. She was frail and malnourished looking, a text book punk kid in flannel and a stupid t-shirt that had a skeleton hand holding up the cliche devil horns. She wasn't getting out of this. The voices began to sound clearer now she had yet to open her eyes but she could hear what the owners were saying. “We can’t just kill her we need the money.” “She’s fucking human Tiff, just let the clown and the big guy fight over her meat!” “We’re about to lose the house babe! This is the best place we've had in years!”   “You know the rules no regular humans allowed in our society.” “Leatherface is human!” “PFF barely,” “Will you two PLEASE stop bickering for 5 seconds!” “Oh you wanna finally join us Jingles? Because you've been sitting there drooling for the past five minutes while we've been trying to figure out what to do about YOUR house.” “DO NOT CALL ME JINGLES, DOLL!!!” Lucy opened her eyes, light stung them at first and her vision adjusted. She gurgled out a moan of pain and the room suddenly went silent. Across from her were two dolls one a pretty blonde girl doll with dark makeup the other a boy haphazardly stitched together in a terrifying way. “What the fuck” she mumbled turning to look behind her, she heard heavy breathing that coming out so deep they almost sounded like moans. The monster towered over her and most horrifying of all he wore the skinned face of a dead woman. Lucy quickly turned away to finally find the other inhabitant pouting in the corner, the evil clown from earlier. He was tall, lanky and had a giant forehead with fluffy orange hair twisting around like cotton candy. The clown was staring right at her with a terrifying hunger in his eyes, like he could smell her fear from across the room. She tried to soak it all in. This isn't happening this isn't real. Oh god I'm going to die here she thought. Then, something deep within Lucy’s mind snapped. She began to laugh. Her laughter was a mix of hysteria and horror it was insane and manic. “Wellp I’ve finally lost it.” she thought to herself as her cackling died down. The monstrous flatmates stared at her slightly confused by her reaction.  “Well that the first time I’ve made that kind of impression. Thought makin' them laugh was your thing jingles.” the boy doll mused The clown let off an inhuman warning growl and the doll grinned wickedly. “Y-youre all r-real.” Lucy stuttered starting to slip into insanity. “Careful who you say isn't real around here toots, Jingles over there tends to get real triggered about that subject” the male doll quipped “Are you done insulting me yet? You disgusting excuse for a child’s toy.” the clown hissed “Not on your life chucklefuck.” “Chucky! Can we please focus on the girl!” the dolls female counterpart snapped “Sorry pumpkin, they've been having a bit of a dispute ever since the clown left a huge pile of drool outside the fridge yesterday morning” she turned to Lucy who now was a mix of terrified and utterly confused. “I was very hungry and couldn't decide what to eat!” the clown pouted “YOU HAVE AN ENTIRE PANTRY FULL OF DEAD CHILDREN IN THE SEWER DO YOU EVEN NEED TO EAT ANYTHING ELSE?” Chucky shouted back at him. “Wow that hurt. I don't just eat children you know” the clown mocked being struck in the heart followed by a sharp glare. The silent behemoth behind Lucy had decided enough was enough and banged on the counter next to him. All in the room went quiet. The female doll sighed “Well if you two are going to be children about this I’ll make the decision for us. Alright look hun. We’re in a bit of a pickle and we need an extra roommate or Penny here is going to lose the house. Then well all be shit outta luck, especially you sweetheart. So I’m givin ya two options” she looked at the grumpy killer clown who huffed and finally nodded giving the female doll permission “One, you take the room. You will live here as the fake owner so the town doesn't try to reclaim the house and tear it down. Or two…. you die.”  “And if I don’t want either?” Lucy questioned giving in completely to this new terrifying situation she was in. All the inhabitants in the room smiled wickedly. The clown stepped forward and grabbed Lucy’s chin forcing her to look into his golden predatory eyes, they were slightly out of alignment as if he was barely managing to keep control of himself  “You can try to run kitten, but in a house full of monsters” he grinned his smile sadistic with a sprinkling of insanity “I promise you wont get far.” he inhaled sharply as if sniffing a freshly cooked meal before taking a bite. Lucy swallowed her fear and insanity pushing it down deep within her. “I’m a fucking survivor and I’m not going to die in some rotting haunted house.” She thought to herself. The clown growled and shoved her face back roughly as if offended by her sudden burst of bravery. “How much is rent?” she stated cool and suddenly collected.She wasn't really but the girl was no stranger to putting on a brave face. The group turned to the clown who was suddenly put on the spot “….$450” “Fuck that. Does this crackhouse even have running water?” she spat. “Watch your filthy little mouth!” the clown growled. She had obviously hit a very sore spot. A weakness she smirked. “$300” she haggled.  “Just for that remark, five” the clown sneered in her face again, he was so close she could feel his breath on her nose. “You cant go up you fucker” “How much is your life worth to you little human” “About 300 bucks a month, clown.” “Four.. not including utilities” he smiled like the devil himself. She broke. “Look if you don’t kill me then my ex probably will. Im dead either way. Probably safer with a bunch of monsters than with that psycho, so $350 with utilities and I wont call the cops and make sure people stay away from your place. You all obviously want to remain here in secret so I keep my mouth shut about what you are and you give me a cheap place to live and start over. I honestly don't give a shit if I'm living with demon dolls and cannibals. I just want freedom from my old shitty life and my old shitty ex.” she stared back into the clowns eyes in pure defiance. Blue and gold bore into each other in some unseen battle. Few have ever done this to him before and were allowed to live. Finally the clown broke the stare he was a bit thrown off. “I’m not a cannibal I'm not even human you disgusting Leech.” he mumbled. Clearly the demon clown had a pride issue. “Wait call the cops? Ah shit Chucky you forgot to take her phone???” the Tiffany yelled at the male doll. “You didn't fucking tell me too! I thought we were going to kill her like we do with all the humans that wander in here!! Didn't see the fucking need but apparently were all going soft because Buck Tooth McForehead over here is worried about foreclosure!” “You idiot! You never listen to me!!!!” she screamed and lunged at him.  The clown rolled his eyes at them, apparently this happened a lot. “Can you guys please take this to the bedroom, since I know where this is going and I really don't want walk in to find you making up on my sofa again.” Leatherface who had been mostly silent had moaned and covered his eyes clearly grossed out at the thought. “FINE were leaving! Tell us when you two kids make a damn deal instead of eye fucking each other for hours” Chucky shouted from the floor his wife’s hands around his neck. “Ew what the hell man we weren’t…” Lucy began but was cut off by an eruption of anger from the clown. “GET OUT.” the clown roared.They stood up and Chucky took his wife’s hand in his and Tiffany gave Lucy a wink as she left. “what the hell was that-“ Lucy started. “Ignore them” the clown interrupted once again. “Ok but like what did he mean by-“ “Ignore them” She turned her attention again to the tall murderous, inhuman apparently, clown. Who was clearly extremely annoyed with the whole situation. “So we have a deal clown?” “Pennywise” the clown said. “PennyWhat?” “I have a name and its Pennywise… The dancing clown.” “You dance?” “Not the point.” “Can I see?” “No.” “I thought clowns liked to preform.” “Are you finished?” “Maybe.” Lucy fired back at him.  The clown was not used to this amount of sass from such a small frail looking thing. She could certainly run her mouth. It reminded him of a very specific boy that had smacked him in the head with a baseball bat all those years ago. He knew he was going to hate this human, but he had little to no choice in this. The Well-house was apart of him and desperate times call for desperate measures. He decided to wait to kill her when she tries to move out. It'll happen eventually anyway, after all this human will be living amongst monsters, horrible abominations true living nightmares! No normal sane human would be able to last long in this situation. And then he will enjoy feasting on this small thing’s flesh. Biting into her pale skin hearing her cry out in fear when he turns on her. Oh yes her sweet, delicious, beautiful fear. He'd inhale her scent and burry his nose into her bleeding flesh licking the wound in her neck. Those big blue eyes wide in terror as the filthy leech rose up finally floating. Her short platinum hair swirling around her frozen face. Beautiful, intoxicating, delicious, alluring, all mine, mine, mine, MINE- he woke himself from his trance his eyes had drifted apart and he was drooling immensely. She was staring at him waiting for him to say something. He mentally cursed himself for those strange thoughts that had just drifted through his head. “You uh…. you ok there? It looks like you left earth there for a bit”   The clown sighed and growled more turning to his giant flatmate. “Untie her and bring me some ink Leatherface, lets just get this over with” Pennywise said exhausted. The giant equally concerned and confused grabbed a knife off the kitchen wall and cut her free. Lucy’s first instinct was to run but she glued herself into the reality of her situation. The behemoth walked over to her still holding the knife and she suddenly felt the fear come back. What if the clown had lied? The giant grabbed her hand roughly. Shit she began to panic as he pressed the blade into her hand and cut. Pennywise was now sporting a devilish grin seeing his flatmate to be squirm and whimper under the blade. He suddenly had an old looking contract and a quill in his hand which he laid out on the table in front of her “Read it and sign it Leech” he sneered “Really? Im signing it in blood? Really?” “You’re being difficult and childish just sign the damn paper.” “Why do you keep calling me Leech anyway?” “Because you're sucking me dry with this $350 a month deal, sign the paper.” “Do I get to at least remodel my room?” “SIGN THE PAPER” “Bite me clown. I want to know the fine details.” “Careful what you wish for little Leech it just might come true.” he muttered. “That a threat Penny?” she fired backThe clown glared at the nickname. “You know, you’re cute when you're mad” she chuckled reading the document. “Interesting requirements you got here. Don’t know what the hell this whole community council thing is and all these weird secrets but eh its cheap living can’t complain.” she dabbed the pen on her open wound and scribbled her name on the line.  “Congratulations were flatmates.” the clown growled snatching the paper and walked off towards the basement. Lucy turned to Leatherface and chuckled. “I like him, he’s fun. So you guys gonna take me on the grand tour?” the giant still very confused with the whole situation nodded silently and Lucy followed him out. She didn't quite know what she just agreed to and this definitely wasn't the change she had in mind. All she knew was that she had wished for a new start and she sure as hell was getting one.