#but lookie my streak is pretty!

[cxtori]

Kaveh ✮ Bad Days

summary: basically you’ve had a really rough week and Kaveh decides to help you do your hair when you get upset with it :)

genre: fluff established relationship, good ole’ feminine hair rage, hurt/comfort, Kaveh is really good at doing hair I just know he is

warnings: n/a

WC: 1.3k

song: here with me by d4vd

tori’s note: OMG a genshin fic, lookie! And HELLO! I’m alive. I’m finally getting used to my new job and routine so I’m finding more time to spend on my hobbies, which means I’m finding more time to write :) hoping to be posting more stuff soon! <3

It had been a hard day. A Hard week actually.

First, the art piece you had worked so hard on was rejected by the art exhibit you submitted it to. Then the market was out of all of the key ingredients you needed when you planned to make Kaveh some Fatteh. And then one of the art gallery’s regulars yelled at you because her piece wasn’t in the spot she felt it deserved. Plus all of the other little inconveniences that occurred throughout the week that pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

You were already exhausted, annoyed and frustrated. And now, here you were, sitting at your vanity trying to get your hair fixed and looking pretty while on the verge of tears.

It’s a style you’ve done a million times over. There’s no reason for it to be this complicated. And yet, your hair is refusing to cooperate, your strands now tangled in a hair barrette.

You let out a loud, frustrated groan. At this point, you don’t care if it’s not the best it’s ever been, you just want it to look presentable. But it seems like the harder you try the worse it gets.

Kaveh is supposed to be here at any moment to pick you up for your date and your hair is nowhere near ready. And now the tears welling in your eyes threaten to ruin your makeup as well.

You take a deep breath and try to calm your annoyed thoughts before making another attempt to untangle your hair wrapped around the intricate hair piece, its sparkling green gem reflecting in the mirror as though to mock you.

You’re making fine progress, until you drop the barrette and your hair seems to wrap around it like a magnet. You pick it back up and manage to tug a little too hard on a strand or two, causing a sharp pain in your scalp and an involuntary gasp to escape your lips. And that did it.

You let out an exasperated groan and the tears you’d done so well to hold back drop down your cheeks, dragging dark mascara with it. Great, now your hair is a mess AND so is your makeup.

You pick up the hair piece again, heavily considering whether it would truly be a bad idea to just cut it out.

Before you can convince yourself you’d look good with shorter hair, Kaveh knocks on your door and enters the room.

“Y/n, there you are, darling. I thought you’d be down-” He cuts himself off when he catches a glimpse of your mascara-streaked face in your mirror. “Y/n?”

You turn around to face him, tears now streaming freely down your face as you’ve completely given up on trying to hold them in. You’ve reached your breaking point, though you must admit, you’re surprised it took this long.

“Wh-why are you crying?” Kaveh asks, panic rushing through him at the sight of your current state. His eyes widen slightly and he straightens, placing his hands on his hips. “Was it Ms. Oshi again? I swear, her work isn’t good enough to be putting up a fuss the way she does.”

“No… I mean she did come in again this week, but that’s not why I’m crying,” you say, your words barely comprehensible through your quiet sobs and sniffles.

Kaveh’s arms drop and his expression softens. “What is it then, darling?”

“I can’t get my hair right!” You cry. He looks up at your head, only now noticing the tangled barrett resting chaotically in your strands. “And now my makeup is a mess,” you mutter, turning your gaze back to your reflection.

You miss the soft smile on Kaveh’s lips as he makes his way over to you and rests his hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you to sit up straight.

“Let me help.” You don’t resist when his hands begin working on your hair, carefully pulling it from the metal piece. His nimble fingers make quick work and before long, he’s pulling the barrett from your hair, no scissors needed.

He moves his hand around you to place it in your lap before picking up the hair brush on your vanity. As he straightens out your knotted hair, you begin fixing your makeup, doing your best to not smudge the streaked mascara further on your face.

You finish your makeup at the same time he gets your hair untangled, but when you move to start working on your hair yourself, Kaveh pushes your hands away, a humming quiet “hmm mm”. You, once again, don’t argue and sit back in your chair as he continues his braiding.

Your gaze drops down to the barrett in your lap and you pick up the cool piece of metal. Your fingers trace over the delicate, golden vines and leaves, the stems growing tighter together as they meet in the center where they wrap around a grassy-green crystal surrounded by tiny, crimson red gems.

“Do you remember when I got you that hair piece?” Kaveh asks quietly, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“You mean when you were nervously fumbling with the jewelry box and nearly dumped it into the river? I remember,” you giggle, the image bright and vivid in your memory.

“Ahh, well… yes, but not that part,” he says and you look at his face in the mirror just soon enough to catch the flash of embarrassment on his face. “Do you remember why I’d given it to you.”

You think back on the moment, but no answer comes to mind. You had been together for around 6 months at the time, and aside from that milestone, nothing of significance comes up. You shake your head, careful to do it lightly enough as to not mess up your boyfriends progress. Kaveh gives a light chuckle.

“You had been having an absolutely horrendous week. ‘Worst days of your life’ is what you’d told me.” Your eyebrows furrow as you try to dig up the memories, but you get nothing.

“Granted, I think you were overexagerrating a bit,” he says quickly before continuing. “But still, you were quite upset. I thought the gift would cheer you up. And it did, though maybe not in the way I’d intended.” You laugh again at the image of him almost dropping his newly purchased gift off the bridge into the rushing water below you and the heavy sigh of relief he gave as he clutched the box in his hands like his life depended on it.

He reaches around you to gently take the barrett from your hands, his fingers lingering on yours a few moments longer than necessary.

“All of that to say, this moment will pass. You’ll move on and forget about all of the bad things that happened this week. Well, maybe except Ms. Oshi yelling at you. Her voice forever haunts me,” he jokes and you giggle. He never fails to make you laugh, even if it’s not his intention.

“But something you will never forget are these moments,” he says as he clips the barrett into place. He brushes your hair over to the side and places a light kiss on your exposed shoulder.

“I love you, darling. On your best and on your worst days.” His whispers against your skin give you goosebumps and you turn your head to face him, his amber-red eyes meeting yours.

He takes your hands and guides you to stand up, his hands moving to your wast as soon as your vertical.

“I love you too. Thank you,” you say, leaning close to him so your whispers fall on his lips. He wastes no more time to press his mouth to yours, the scent of clay and sandalwood flooding your senses.

Every unsaid word is conveyed perfectly as he pulls you closer to him and deepens the kiss. You let out a soft laugh when he nibbles your lip, knowing it’ll get a reaction out of you. You pull apart, your quiet pants filling the space between you as you hold each other close.

“My love,” Kaveh says, stroking a thumb tenderly over your cheek. He gives a happy hum as he pulls away, his hand dropping down to yours to grasp it tightly. “We should get going, don’t want the tavern to be too crowded now.”

©Cxtori 2024 please do not copy, plagiarize, repost or translate. reblogs appreciated

[exy101]

@grishatober‘s 2020 day 4: canon ships

maybe i liked your stupid face!

[misfittq]

gasp, breaking news, my brain decided just as I was about to sleep to give me ideas for my metal guitarist (and singer) gf x acoustic guitarist gf, so hey you get a snippet now If I have time today, I'll try and make it into a proper one-shot, otherwise tomorrow (GMT timezone) Nancy is singing Better than Me by The Brobecks cause i said so, also cmon that song has a lot of emotions in there, and im pretty sure theres a guitar in it so yeah // Her dishevelled hair, a myriad of emotions strewn across her face, her fingers moving across the guitar, part of a complicated dance only they knew. These were things you could only see about Nancy Wheeler if you got just close enough, and Robin Buckley had, yet again, made it her mission to do so. // @robins-raspberry-beret @el-fandom-phantom @evilkaeya @socialfilter lookie moots !! you proud I'm actually getting my writing streak back? !

[loyally-unfaithful]

—; serons-nous admirables ?

word count: 959

pairing: v & gn!reader

genre: gen

summary: while nero returns to fortuna to train, v stays behind in red grave city to help any remaining survivors and minimise the damage done by the qliphoth.

a/n: so, my (limited) knowledge on dmc is mostly based on dmc 5,,,, so please forgive me if i don’t get the lore 100% correct and messed w the timeline a little bit,,,,

this is my first ever fanfiction,,,, so,,,, i’m just testing the waters,,,,

feedbacks are appreciated

17 may, am 07:32;

« are you sure about this v? i mean, you don’t exactly need to look for survivors. nothin’ wrong in backing out. maybe trying to save more people’ll be too much for you... – perhaps. but in doing so, we’ll be able to minimise the damage done by the qliphoth. »

stepping over the rubble and the debris that littered the once paved road, the man, followed by his avian familiar, made their way to one of the city’s many courtyard where a multitude of people scrambled out of, hoping to perhaps save the few that were unable to escape with the rest of the horde.

what greeted them however was a wasteland, the immediate area that surrounded them was desecrated, the buildings defaced. gunge and gore were scattered around this apparent battlefield, a slurry coming from the macabre display.

the man eyed the corpses of the demons, disintegrating into black particles swept in the wind, and noted the different creatures that were slaughtered.

his eyes fell on the perpetrator who was sat at the centre of it all and addressed them: « i assume that this was your doing? »

you lifted your head and slowly looked at the man, caught off guard by the strangers smooth and silky voice, before smirking: « then you assumed correctly. hoisting yourself up using what was once a fountain, you continued. i was minding my own business when these nasty little buggers were bothering me. »

« empusas, pyrobats, and hell cainus.. he corrected, pointing a cane at the nearest cadaver. lesser demons of the underworld. – well, whatever they’re called i took care of them. or at least all of the ones in this area. you shrugged. » Just as you finished your sentence, you stomped on the head of what you thought was a dead empusa that started writhing towards you, disgusted at the sludge it left on your boot.

« well, well, well. lookie here: another devil hunter. »

« hey! you! d’you know where the other survivors might be? – do I know where the survivors are? you parroted with a coy smile. well, i haven’t got a clue. i didn’t care enough t— – ugh, come on, let’s just leave this guy, v. I don’t think they’ll be any help to us, the bird huffed. »

the demon began to soar away, preparing to scout the city when the mysterious man—who you assumed was called ‘v’—opened his book and seemed to peruse its contents pensively. you couldn’t help but find this newcomer and his mannerisms alluring, his mysterious persona drawing you in.

« the most sublime act is to set another before you. »

your smug expression disappeared, replaced by one of confusion: « were you trying to scold me using poetry? you blinked dumbfoundedly. well, if you’re so hellbent on winning some good boy points, i recall some people rushing over towards the bunkers near that old and decrepit orphanage, you scoffed. – then we shall continue on towards that location. devil hunter, i bid you farewell. »

you watched as the two advanced towards the shelters. « they’re actually going? » you muttered to yourself, concern and worry settling within you. specifically worry over the stranger’s wellbeing. certes, v is most probably not an ordinary human. no ordinary person had demons as familiars. but you couldn’t fight your protective streak as you watched v’s frail form advance to a place you knew was infested with the corruption.

you weighed your options for a moment. on one hand, this was the chance to leave this fucked up island. but could you live with the guilt in the off chance that you sent the (mysteriously captivating) stranger to his death? making up your mind, you leapt to cover the distance between the two parties.

« i’m coming with you guys, you announced, catching up to them. – my, my… what happened to the “not caring” part? – … shut up. you retorted, embarrassed. »

the demon bird cackled as they circled around their master: « psst. psst. hey, v, are we seriously bringing them with us? v thought back to the wreckage. although the lesser demons you faced weren’t exactly that hard to handle, the sheer magnitude would have overwhelmed many. and yet you came out of that unscathed. – their presence would certainly be advantageous… – you know i can hear you two right? you chimed in. »

« look, i’m not a hero—i don’t claim to be one—nor am i admirable in the least. i’m just here because i’d feel bad if i sent your pretty face to an early grave; talking bird or not. »

« the road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom »

you acknowledge the statement with an amused  « hmph » and a small grin. the way he speaks in proverbs is dorky but you had to admit it was charming in its own way.

reaching the crossroads that led to the shelters, you noted that the roads were blocked by the debris and wreckage of past buildings, although how that terrifying orphanage is still standing escaped you.

« guess the only way to the bunkers is through, huh? you muttered. – it certainly does seem to be our only choice. with a heavy sigh, you grabbed your sword, propping the edge on the ground as you readjusted your grip of the handle. – this place gives me the fucking creeps… – then i believe it would be in our best interest to get through this place with haste. »

you laughed dryly, observing the uncanny glow of the vicious critters’ eyes peering back at the group from within the orphanage.

« i like the sound of your “plan”, v. » you concurred while running towards the building, sword pulled behind you, the friction from the blade’s contact with the concrete road producing sparks as you sprinted, ready to storm the abandoned building.

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[sableflynn]

Summer nights

Written for the “attacked in their sleep” prompt for @badthingshappenbingo​ and requested by anon. I’m sorry anon I wanted this to be more whumpy, but it ended up being pretty low stakes and kind of goofy! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ also just to clarify Kailo’s like nineteen in this, everyone just calls him kid lol

Also on Ao3

---

Kailo stared at the innkeeper, not fully understanding what she was saying. "What do you mean it's not enough? It was enough last night…”

“But it’s solstice week now, yeah? Everything’s gonna be pricier with all the tourists coming in.” The innkeeper gave him a sympathetic smile, but she was drumming her fingers along the bar like she was waiting for him to leave. “Listen honey, you should just go home. Your mom probably misses you.”

“But I…” He bit his lip. Home was so far away, and he didn’t come all the way to the city just to run away as soon as things got difficult. “Is there somewhere else nearby I could stay?” This had been the cheapest inn he could find, but there was so much of the city he hadn’t seen yet and he easily could've missed something.

But she just shrugged, already turning her attention to the next customers. “Might be. Good luck finding a place with an open room this late at the start of solstice week, though.”

And so Kailo found himself on the street again, pack slung over his shoulder, trying to stay positive. This isn’t the only inn in the city. There’s got to be somewhere with a room I can afford. Tomorrow he would wake up early and see what odd jobs he could pick up around the city. He just needed a place to crash for the night.

But the next three places he checked were completely full, and the two after that were even more expensive than the one he had left behind. He was starting to feel desperate. Each time he stepped back outside, the streets seemed a little bit emptier, the shadows a little bit darker. The owner of the last place he stopped had actually laughed in his face when he told them how much he could pay. He rubbed away the tears of embarrassment and frustration that pricked at his eyes. Why is everyone here so cruel?

As the night went on, exhaustion overcame any sense of self-preservation; he stopped looking at inns and started eyeing the secluded, winding alleys criss-crossing the city. It’s just one night… He could tuck himself somewhere out of the way and curl up for a few hours. Just enough to take the edge off his exhaustion. At least it’s not raining.

He eventually found a dead end behind what looked like a bakery, closed for the night. Maybe if I wake up early enough, they’ll give me some bread before they open for the day. Surely there had to be some kind people in this city. He curled up on the cool cobblestones, arms tightly wrapping his pack. The city was never truly silent, but here the sounds of the late night life became a sort of ambient background noise, muffled by the walls of the buildings surrounding him. He could see the crescent moon in the sky between the rooftops, and he could almost convince himself this was peaceful. Letting his eyes drift shut, he slowly fell into an uneasy sleep.

***

Kailo woke with a start to the sensation of something tugging at the bag clutched in his arms. He jolted up to sitting and threw himself back, his mind struggling to catch up to where he was and what was happening. I slept outside, and now I’m not alone. He squinted in the dim moonlight and made out the figure of a man crouching at his side.

“Hey, don’t worry,” the man said in a voice that absolutely made Kailo worry. “I don’t have to hurt you. I just wanna see if you’ve got anything good in that bag.” The man advanced on him, reaching for the bag once again.

“I don’t have anything!” Kailo’s back hit the wall and he hugged his bag closer, eyes scanning the alley for some way out. He could only see the man looming over him, blocking his line of sight. He kicked out in desperation. “Get off of me! I swear I don’t have anything! Leave me alone!”

The man’s fist smashed into the side of his face, whipping his head against the wall as pain exploded across his cheek. Stunned, he sat helpless for a minute as he felt the bag being lifted out of his arms. No. Kailo shook the stars from his vision to see the man digging through the pack, counting out the small amount of money he had. Reaching back in to pull out the blanket from home.

“You don’t have anything?” The man held the blanket aloft, and Kailo froze. It was hand embroidered with the waves and foam of the sea, a gift from his mother, the only keepsake he had from home. He grabbed for it, but the man pushed him back down easily. “This is cute. Dunno if it’s worth much, but I’m sure someone would buy it.”

“No!” Fear forgotten, Kailo threw himself at the man. He had no clue how to fight, but he scrabbled at the man’s arms in an attempt to wrestle the blanket from him. An erratic fist collided with the man’s face, and Kailo felt a brief thrill of victory before he was slammed on his back, knocking all the air out of him.

“Now you’re pissing me off,” the man growled, and Kailo felt a cold bite at his neck that he realized was a knife. “This isn’t worth dying for, is it? Just let it happen, kid. Maybe you’ll be more careful where you sleep next time.” Kailo was scared to move under that knife, scared to even breathe, but he couldn’t let this man walk away with everything he owned.

“Hey, leave him alone!”

A voice rang out from the other end of the alley, and they both paused. The man eased off slightly to turn and look, and Kailo was able to lift his head to see a woman standing at the edge of the alley. Even as he was grateful for the distraction, his stomach dropped. Now this woman is going to get hurt too, because I was stupid enough to think I could move to this city by myself.

“Why don’t you mind your own fuckin’ business?” The man dropped Kailo’s things and stood to face the woman. Not taking his eyes off the scene unfolding in front of him, Kailo grabbed his bag, shoving the blanket back in, and scrambled back against the wall. He should run, or try to help, or do something, but he felt frozen.

As the woman stepped closer, Kailo managed to find his voice. He had to at least warn her that this man was dangerous. “Watch out! He has a knife!”

“I can see that,” the woman said with a laugh. “Do you even know how to use that thing?”

Why would she taunt him like that? Now the man was enraged, rushing towards her with the knife in hand. She wasn’t even moving, just watching the man with a smirk on her face as he got closer. Kailo was holding his breath, wondering if he was about to sit here and watch this woman get stabbed while he did nothing.

Instead, he blinked, and suddenly the man was sprawled on the ground, swearing, and the woman was kicking the knife out of his reach. How did she…? Kailo crept forward, torn between wanting to get a closer look and needing to get as far away as possible.

The man rolled over on the ground, clutching his arm. “What the fuck? What was that for?”

“That was for you running at me with a knife!” The woman snapped, heated. She picked up the knife and tossed it to Kailo. Too stunned to catch it, he let it slip between his fingers and clatter to the ground at his feet. “And stop bothering people when they’re trying to sleep,” she added, dragging the man back to standing. “Seriously, just go rob a fucking mansion or something if you need money. This is just embarrassing for you.”

“It was going fine until you decided to stick your nose in!” The man seemed a lot less intimidating now, and a lot more flustered.

“Well I did stick my nose in, so you’d better leave now.” The woman gave him a rough shove towards the street. “Unless you really want to try your luck against me, but let’s be real, we both know you would lose.” Kailo expected the man to attack again, but to his surprise, he instead continued out the alley and vanished onto the street.

Kailo stood rooted to the spot, trying to calm his frantic breathing. The woman walked over to him and looked him over. “You ok, kid?”

A thousand thoughts were racing through his mind—he could’ve killed you—he tried to rob me—are you ok?—I hate this city—but absurdly, the first thing to come out of his mouth was, “I’m not a kid!”

“Fair enough, sorry!” She smiled, and it was oddly comforting despite the streak of blood across her cheek. “But seriously, you seem pretty shaken up.”

Kailo realized he was clutching his pack to his chest like a lifeline, and he tried to relax himself. “I just...he was gonna kill me. And he could’ve killed you, and I don’t even know you!”

“What, that guy?” To his shock, the woman laughed. “Nah, he’s harmless. Thinks he’s cool because he can wave a knife around, but he really doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing.” Then she seemed to realize her comments weren’t making him feel any better, and her expression softened. “But hey...why are you out here so late anyway? Don’t you have a place to stay?”

“I…” Kailo looked down, scuffed the cobblestones with his foot. He was exhausted and terrified, and he wasn’t sure if he could trust her but she seemed honest enough. “Well, I was just staying in an inn, just for a little bit until I could find a place. But then they raised the prices and I couldn’t afford a room, so…”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Fucking tourist season. Sorry that had to happen to you. But listen, if you’re new here…” She paused, looking thoughtful. “I have a couch, you can totally come crash with me. Just for a little bit, so you can get your feet under you.”

“You would do that for me?” Part of his mind was telling him there had to be a catch, but he was just so tired and just wanted to be somewhere safe. “But you don’t even know me!”

“True, that would help!” The woman stuck out her hand in greeting, easy grin back on her face. “I’m Darya, nice to meet you!”

“I’m Kailo.” He shook her hand. “Thanks, by the way. For saving me back there.”

“Don’t even worry about it!” She headed back towards the street, looking back at him over her shoulder. “Come on, home’s not far from here, and I promise I have a really nice couch!” Kailo paused for a moment, slowly smiling despite his exhaustion. Then he followed her out onto the street and walked by her side, their forms casting long shadows in the glow of the lamplight.

[screensirenfic]

Black Leather - Chapter 16

No one even bothered cleaning up the glass; all three of us too tired and jagged from words better left unsaid.

Not even a word had been spoken since; Eleven refusing to leave her room, and me ducking into my own soon after the ordeal.

Not that it mattered.

Dad didn’t even try to talk to us; still wound up too tightly to say anything but cutting remarks.

I’m pretty sure he’d fallen asleep on the couch, refusing to leave his post out of pure spite; and what do you know? When I peered our from my room, he was still there.

I edged out of my room, having already memorised every creaky floorboard and loose nail in true teenage renegade fashion.

Step by step, I made it across the living room, tiptoeing through a gauntlet of shattered glass and upturned furniture just waiting to trip me up.

I lost my footing; my heel falling down on a particularly large shard of glass; the sharp crunch cutting through the air like a gunshot.

Dad snorts, and my heart stops in my chest.

I dared a glance up at him, dreading the conversation we’d have if he woke.

To my relief he remained dead to the world; half drunk bottle of beer still gripped in his hand. He lets out aloud snore, lazily lifting his wrist to run at his nose, before falling limp once more.

I let out a sigh of relief, thanking whatever God was up there was too preoccupied to humiliate me.

I then lifted my foot, holding back a hiss as the motion finally stirred my pain reflex; the glass feeling as painful as the metaphors might suggest.

Balancing rather deftly on one leg, I raised my foot up, allowing me to get a better look at the cut.

It had bled a lot, but it wasn’t deep; the bloody shard that caused it still wedged in my skin.

I pulled it out, wincing when the jagged edges caught on exit, but still; it would be fine.

I’d had splinters worse; I swear.

After that I was more careful, rising up on my tiptoes so only the barest amount of my foot touched the floor as I made my way across to Eleven’s room.

I reached it without further injury, lightly rapping my knuckles on the door.

“El, it’s me; Lola. Can I come in?” I asked in a hoarse whisper, leaning in close to the wood lest dad might hear me.

Silence.

“I know it’s late, but I thought you could use some company...” I continued; not entirely sure that the kid wasn’t fast asleep and I was talking to thin air.

Still nothing.

I tried one last desperate attempt, hoping that somehow she’d be listening.

“I bought Eggos.” I said, and it wasn’t entirely a lie. I’d fished them out of the trash when dad wasn’t looking, guessing I might need some bargaining chips later, and hid them underneath my mattress where dad wouldn’t find them.

The door clicked as it unlocked, swinging open ever so slightly.

It seemed my ploy payed off.

I snuck into the room, making sure to make as little sound as possible as I shut the door behind me.

El was sat on the floor, knees tucked up to her chest in a position that was universally recognisable as upright foetal; a clear sign she wasn’t quite over what dad had said yet.

Tear stains streaked her cheeks; her eyes still red and puffy from crying, and dried blood crusted beneath her nose from where she’d attempted to wipe it away with her sleeve.

Overall; she looked a sorry state, and my heart cried out in sympathy for her. It wasn’t easy going head on with Jim Hopper’s fury, especially not at thirteen years old with no experience.

“Hey El...” I smiled, slowly approaching her much like you’d approach a startled horse; all soft words and gentle movements.

“Can I sit down?” I asked, slowly lowering myself to her level.

She nodded, and I sunk down beside her, sitting with my back to the wall so she didn’t feel pressured to look me in the eye.

“Y’know; all that destroying things with your mind stuff, that’s pretty badass...” I remarked, grasping for something to break the silence.

“I could think of a few situations I could use that...” I continued, giving her a sly look, because it was true. I could use that; especially if it meant scaring the shit out of a certain pretty boy who couldn’t seem to keep his hands off me.

But this was about Eleven; not me.

“Do you want an Eggo?” I offered, reaching into the oversized pockets of my shirt where I’d hidden my haul.

El nodded, managing a small smile that licked at the corners of her mouth.

I pulled out the Eggos, slightly regretful that they’d become so crushed in transit.

“They’re a little squished. Had to hide them from the fun patrol...” I joked, pulling the cellophane wrapper from one before handing it to her.

“But they’re still good.”

El took a bite from it, before smiling and nodding.

“Still good.” She agreed, taking another bite.

I watched her eat for a moment, savouring that small satisfied smile that stretched across her face every time she took a bite.

I knew I was gonna have to talk to her. At least try to foster some forgiveness between her and dad before sunrise. God knows the pair of them were too pigheaded to do so themselves, but still; the challenge seemed daunting in its own way.

“You know; all that shit dad said earlier, he didn’t mean it.” I began, fixing my gaze on the door opposite, because I wasn’t sure I could do this if she was looking straight at me.

“You’re not...”

“A brat?” She finished my sentence; no hint of accusation in her words, just pure curiosity.

“No; you’re not a brat.” I confirmed; my voice dropping low, because I really didn’t like to use that word for the kid; not after all she’d been through.

I reached out for her, grasping my hand around her own and interlacing our fingers, if not for her sake then for my own; because I wasn’t good with emotions and shit; I was gonna need some moral support for this one.

“It’s just... sometimes he gets real mad and doesn’t know what he’s saying and he does stuff that can really hurt...” I tried to explain; the confession coming harder than I thought it would.

“Hopper hurt you?” She asked; though her phrasing made it seem more like a statement than a question.

“What?” I replied; confused on what made her think that.

She reached across with her spare hand, fingers gently tracing my wrist where deep purple bruises decorated my skin in the shape of fingerprints.

“Hopper hurt you?” She repeated herself; her intention clearer now than before. My stomach sunk again at the realisation.

She thought dad hit me; the genuine concern on her face laced with resentment a more cutting tool than any weapon. She honestly believed that my dad would hurt me; physically and not just with words. It made my heart break in my chest.

“No, sweetie; no.” I corrected with a sad smile, pulling gently on her head till it rested on my shoulder in some strange hybrid of a half hug.

“Dad would never hurt me; or you, for that matter. Not ever”

I felt her body relax after that, tension bleeding out of her as if her only fear was what I might’ve went through. That I might’ve suffered just a smidgeon of what she had; bless her heart.

I didn’t deserve El; her honesty and genuine enthusiasm. Being around her was like seeing the world through fresh eyes, and being as jaded as I was; that was an experience I could never underestimate.

El was an incredible little kid, and dad should buck up and see that before it’s too late.

—————————————————

The next morning I’d woken up to the sound of hammering just outside my bedroom; the dull thump of metal on wood ridiculously loud in the wood’s serene silence. Seems like dad had started cleaning up the mess.

Good for him; I heard cleaning builds character.

I forced myself out of bed and began to get dressed, eager to get to school, because as much as I hated having to listen to rumours there; at least I could drop kick someone if they really pissed me off.

Here, I’d have no hope; tensions already high enough without the threat of physical violence rearing it’s head.

I was still pissed at dad; more for Eleven’s sake than my own.

Yes; she’d acted recklessly and put herself in danger, and that was childish, but guess what? She was a child, and I’d forgive her a multitude of sins for that very reason, and the fact that beneath it all, she was a pretty good kid; if not a little messed up.

But so was I; I guess that’s why we related so well.

Dad, on the other hand, had been completely out of line.

He’d berated and belittled her at every opportunity, before downright threatening her with what was virtually abandonment; and I couldn’t condone that, not after the bullshit she’d already been through at the hands of so called responsible adults.

He knew what he’d said had been wrong, but I wasn’t gonna be the one to spell it out for him; he was old enough to do that for himself.

So when I left my room, I didn’t say a word to him, making a beeline straight for my keys on the kitchen counter.

“Well; lookie who it is, if it isn’t the caped crusader emerging from her cave...” Dad drawled; no trace of affection in the dry nickname.

“Had fun gossiping with Robin; Batman?” He asked sardonically, but I wasn’t about to sink to his level.

Instead, I just shoved on my leather jacket, ignoring how he stared at me expectingly, as if that question deserved an answer.

“The silent treatment; huh?” He continued, following me as I stalked across the room to find my backpack.

“Well good for you for setting a great example for the kid. I bet that attitude goes down real fucking peachy with the kids at school...” He continued to gripe, but that was it.

That was the last straw, and I wasn’t about to shut up and take it whilst he dragged me through the mud like a fucking martyr.

I marched up to him; eyes burning with a subtle fury as I stared him down, not a hint of submission in my posture.

“You know what; I did talk to the kid last night, and yes; it was about you, but only because I was trying to convince her that you weren’t a total dick.” I spat; not even flinching at the sprinkling of expletives finding their way into my speech.

“But apparently I’d been wrong and stupid, and I know; ‘we are not stupid.” I finished, throwing his words into his face, before storming out of the cabin.

“Lola; wait...” He called out; regret already colouring his voice, but you know what; fuck him.

He was the one so set on the fact that actions had consequences, so now he could fucking drown in them for all I cared.

[randombtsprincessa]

Why I believe Daenerys is not fit to rule.

Ok, so I’ve been watching Game of Thrones with my mother and since Season 7, I have vehemently been in favour of Starks.

Now, my mother keeps asking me why I have suddenly given up on Dany as a Queen. She says that I am biased against her for Sansa. Well, for sure, that might be true. But there are many reasons. 

Disclaimer: I haven’t yet finished all the books so I will reserve commenting and judgement on them. As a lit student, it is expected of me to be critical of the source itself as my professors kindly pointed out but that’s bull. Even a script is a source right? Especially when the show is different from the book. 

Also, Sansa is not here. This isn’t a comparison. This is just showing Dany is not a good queen or fit to rule anything.

So here I go.

Dany was Stormborn, hence the name. She was Princess of Dragonstone, a babe left motherless and under the care of her brother who steadily grew vicious and insanely power-hungry. Let’s keep his entitlement aside for the moment. We know he was present in King’s Landing, he knew what being a Royal, a Prince meant. He wanted that life - I can understand that.

But Viserys’s decline made him susceptible, his protectors filled his ears with false truths to take blatant advantage of him and he was as much a victim of poor counsel as Dany. Only, he never reached the point of realising that or being able to do anything about it. By the time, he could, he was far gone into his mind that he was too far to be brought back. 

It could be during his teens or early twenties when he started his descent. This is probably when he turned of Dany, already blaming her of their mother’s death and ‘waking the dragon’. 

Viserys, we’ve all known as a villain. Why? Because he was portrayed as one to us while Dany was a poor helpless girl. 

Dany must have known that her brother was being wrongfully led by Illyrio. She even said so to Jorah. Even Jorah told her that people in Westeros prayed for a better life, not rulers. So why is it that Dany’s mindset doesn’t undergo a change? Again, we will leave the Entitlement for later when we see it portrayed in location.

Coming down to why she is very like Viserys is when we start to see her grow. She just hides it better. Daenarys was lucky to have Drogo, because he was as good a husband as she could find among Dothraki. If she had been married to another, who probably had more than just her as a wife, as we see later, I doubt she would’ve fared well. But we see her growing accustomed to a life of violence very easily. When she had people to back her, she had no reason to fear a much stronger Viserys and managed to throw him off easily, even letting her Khal kill him when she knew that he was dangerous but also useless. 

The line she says that “Fire cannot kill a dragon.” is also telling. She never saw Viserys as family since she considers herself a dragon.But she is very impressed by Rhaegar (known as the last dragon) Where do we see that same quality? 

Cersei. She hates one brother (parallels - mothers die at childbirth, both dislike each other) and loves the other, who shows qualities that favor her.

Her brilliancy and why I like her (Yes, I do) is how well she moulds it. She never turned vicious personally. She never became Viserys, or Joffrey or Ramsay, thank god. Did she have potential? Fuck yes, she is a product of incest, inbreeding always leaves it’s mark and there was a running streak of danger in their wake.

She was good, kind, generous and knew her strengths and she played them well.

She was also good and letting people be violent for her. She wants to go “home” yet she would let her Husband and his men pilfer, pillage, rape in the homeland she wants. Is that a mark of a good queen? 

No, this is when I realised, Dany would never work in Westeros.

Sure, Westeros has had bad rulers, Joffrey, Cersei, Mad King but a ruler who attacks the country - not only with Dragons but also outsiders who have no control? 

The Maegi saw this, the Maegi acted. You cannot pretend that she wasn’t thinking of Westeros similar to her land when she took her revenge. You also cannot pretend that Dany would’ve been able to stop Drogo from letting his Khalasar destroy Westeros as she tried to do before. Drogo himself sided with his men before saying he wouldn’t hear anything about it. What did his men do? They rebelled and fought. Would Drogo take such a risk in Westeros, a foreign land? I don’t think so. It would’ve been him, who would be ruler because Dothraki don’t recognise female leaders, not unless she manages to rise from flame unharmed. Were Drogo alive, Dany would never be put in fire and never have such command. 

She was still willing to lead such a hoard to the West. This just adds to how short-sighted her venture was. So she kills the witch, and from her blood, magics Dragons into the world.

From the moment we get to Quarth, we can see Dany in the position Viserys was in, fraternal because she was Mother to Dragons. She was much more better a candidate than her brother would ever be. Dany takes time to realise this as well, but since she has to as the good guy, she finds out about Daxos and Doreah and locks them in to die. Again, a death that is understandable.

We’ll skip Yunkai and Astapor. It was clear here that Dany’s luck was phenomenal and so was her act of deceit. She barters and then betrays. I understand the “Unsullied” scene. A dragon in that bastard’s hand called for emergency and Dany handles it well.

Yunkai was a mess. The Second Son’s Daario just so happens to fall for the pretty queen and betrays his partners. She “liberates” the city...then leaves it to be. What? Where’s the order? You think they’re just magically going to figure out a system when you TAKE the system and kill it? 

Her Conqueror and not Ruler side is glaringly obvious here.

She does the same in Mereen. 

Now, I have a few points to say for her “advisers”. We’ll start with Missandei. She is a translator and undoubtedly very useful and very loyal. She also gives the common people a voice...then why does she not do that? She says it’snot her place, not because she thinks herself inferior but because she knows no politics. And ruling is politics. Killing off the Masters was terrorising, an act of control. Missandei keeps saying that if she wished it Dany would let her go back to Naath. Guess what? She does want to as we see in S8, then why hasn’t she done so?

Surely she doesn’t want to die in a battle that is strictly speaking not hers since she doesn’t even want to stay in Westeros. She wants to leave “when this is over” so what is making her stay? Loyalty...or fear?

Grey Worm, bless his soul is easier. He was a slave, and still is. No one can persuade me that Grey Worm doesn’t feel still subjugated. He was made into a soldier, not trained. You cannot just burn someone’s masters, no matter how cruel, ask your now freed soldiers to fight or leave and expect anyone to leave. All they know is war. Where will they go even if they leave? You burned their city and they have no life. Psychologically, you hold the whip, you own them. 

It’s highly unlikely Grey Worm has forgotten this. But he is starting to with Missandei. He will want to leave with her and Dany will lose the main man to control her army. Let’s see how she reacts. If Dany as her character arc in S8 is the same, she will be mad, but if the directors want to keep her squeaky clean she will be happy. Don’t trust D&D.

Jorah and Barristan who were the most knowledgeable in Westerosi politics, both are shown to be lost to her. Either this is a play that Dany just doesn’t want to listen to reason or that she doesn’t care.

Her rule in Mereen is nothing short of incompetent and stupid. To rule you have to understand the city. Instead of letting the city stay as it were under her rule, making changes she saw would benefit the residents, she immediately expects the city and public to change in adherence to her. The Crucifixion was also dumb. You don’t want people to do that, so what’s the best way to ensure that they don’t? Oh yeah, do exactly that. Instead of settling the city, she destroyed it’s foundations and insults it’s traditions. She calls it Liberation, it is actually called A Dumbass Dictator.

Naturally she is met by resistance in Sons of Harpy and the Masters who wanted to take back Mereen in her absence.

Mereen solidified my claim that Dany cannot rule. Even Daario says “You’re a conqueror, not meant to be Queen”

She leaved the man who can actually advise her against cheats and frauds, I mean, what?

Now, let’s see her behaviour with Westerosi people. 

Her entitlement is stupidly obvious here and how much she is like Viserys and the Mad King is being made glaring. She expects people, people that her family quelled by fear, that her father tormented, people that wholeheartedly supported Robert’s Rebellion to expect the daughter of a king who was famous for burning people. Lookie, Dany is famous for that too now with the Tarlys. Like father, like daughter.

When she tells Jon to not judge her by her father’s crime, it is expected of you to not repeat those crimes. You cannot give men who hate your house to bend the knee or die. You cannot burn people and then cry, “I’m not my father...who also burned people.”

Dany is parallel to how the Man king killed Brandon and Rickard Stark. Father and Son killed together by father, and now by daughter.

She also gives the Greyjoys, Dorne and Olenna free reign but won’t give North it’s independence. Why? Because they were important, they were helping her and she needed allies. Her need is free to compromise but the North’s isn’t. She recognised that now she is in the position of power, so she can walk around bossing people about.

“My father killed your lords and I have done the same but I am a better ruler.”

That is such bull. Her entitlement and her stupidity made me lose all respect I had for her. She admits to knowing the game but is shown to be least bothered with it. Her idea of breaking the wheel was impressive, before I realised that she didn’t want a wheel simply because she wanted to be the sole holder of power. If that isn’t Dictatorship then what is? 

She makes it a point that without dragons she is nothing, Targaryens were nothing special without their mounts and they are her children. She is also least concerned by them. I have not yet seen her mourn Viserion and I cried for the entire night. TMI...

Also, Sansa is just plain better and Dany disrespects her a lot. She comes into her home. and what? Sprawls out with her extra men and that “Whatever they want”?? 

Winterfell is where we started our story. It is our home, our Hogwarts, we fought to get it back with Jon and Sansa and for Dany to mock it with no concern is plain infuriating.

Also, where and when did she become a manipulator? That scene was so disturbing, especially since Sansa grew up with Cersei, Tyrion, Littlefinger and the Tyrells. That hand back off was just...it showed how insincere she is.

She isn’t even bothered about Jon being her nephew, her sole concern is his claim being stronger than hers. 

Dany can see that she is losing foothold when she is used to being put on a pedestal. People are seeing how useless she really is in matters of politics and warfare and it scares her.

“I take the Iron Throne.” 

I have questions.

How will you rule? What then? What about the future? One that you have made bleak for you, how are you going to correct it?

[pointedly-foolish]

[ ѕєrσnѕ-nσuѕ αdmírαвlєѕ? ]

word count: 959

pairing: v & gn!reader

genre: gen

summary: while nero returns to fortuna to train, v stays behind in red grave city to help any remaining survivors and minimise the damage done by the qliphoth.

a/n: so, my (limited) knowledge on dmc is mostly based on dmc 5,,,, so please forgive me if i don’t get the lore 100% correct and messed w the timeline a little bit,,,,

this is my first ever fanfiction,,,, so,,,, i’m just testing the waters,,,,

feedbacks are appreciated

17 may, am 07:32;

« are you sure about this v? i mean, you don’t exactly need to look for survivors. nothin’ wrong in backing out. maybe trying to save more people’ll be too much for you... – perhaps. but in doing so, we’ll be able to minimise the damage done by the qliphoth. »

stepping over the rubble and the debris that littered the once paved road, the man, followed by his avian familiar, made their way to one of the city’s many courtyard where a multitude of people scrambled out of, hoping to perhaps save the few that were unable to escape with the rest of the horde.

what greeted them however was a wasteland, the immediate area that surrounded them was desecrated, the buildings defaced. gunge and gore were scattered around this apparent battlefield, a slurry coming from the macabre display.

the man eyed the corpses of the demons, disintegrating into black particles swept in the wind, and noted the different creatures that were slaughtered.

his eyes fell on the perpetrator who was sat at the centre of it all and addressed them: « i assume that this was your doing? »

you lifted your head and slowly looked at the man, caught off guard by the strangers smooth and silky voice, before smirking: « then you assumed correctly. hoisting yourself up using what was once a fountain, you continued. i was minding my own business when these nasty little buggers were bothering me. »

« empusas, pyrobats, and hell cainus.. he corrected, pointing a cane at the nearest cadaver. lesser demons of the underworld. – well, whatever they’re called i took care of them. or at least all of the ones in this area. you shrugged. » Just as you finished your sentence, you stomped on the head of what you thought was a dead empusa that started writhing towards you, disgusted at the sludge it left on your boot.

 « well, well, well. lookie here: another devil hunter. »

« hey! you! d’you know where the other survivors might be? – do I know where the survivors are? you parroted with a coy smile. well, i haven’t got a clue. i didn’t care enough t— – ugh, come on, let’s just leave this guy, v. I don’t think they’ll be any help to us, the bird huffed. »

the demon began to soar away, preparing to scout the city when the mysterious man—who you assumed was called ‘v’—opened his book and seemed to peruse its contents pensively. you couldn’t help but find this newcomer and his mannerisms alluring, his mysterious persona drawing you in.

« the most sublime act is to set another before you. »

your smug expression disappeared, replaced by one of confusion: « were you trying to scold me using poetry? you blinked dumbfoundedly. well, if you’re so hellbent on winning some good boy points, i recall some people rushing over towards the bunkers near that old and decrepit orphanage, you scoffed. – then we shall continue on towards that location. devil hunter, i bid you farewell. »

you watched as the two advanced towards the shelters. « they’re actually going? » you muttered to yourself, concern and worry settling within you. specifically worry over the stranger’s wellbeing. certes, v is most probably not an ordinary human. no ordinary person had demons as familiars. but you couldn’t fight your protective streak as you watched v’s frail form advance to a place you knew was infested with the corruption.

you weighed your options for a moment. on one hand, this was the chance to leave this fucked up island. but could you live with the guilt in the off chance that you sent the (mysteriously captivating) stranger to his death? making up your mind, you leapt to cover the distance between the two parties.

« i’m coming with you guys, you announced, catching up to them. – my, my… what happened to the “not caring” part? – … shut up. you retorted, embarrassed. »

the demon bird cackled as they circled around their master: « psst. psst. hey, v, are we seriously bringing them with us? v thought back to the wreckage. although the lesser demons you faced weren’t exactly that hard to handle, the sheer magnitude would have overwhelmed many. and yet you came out of that unscathed. – their presence would certainly be advantageous… – you know i can hear you two right? you chimed in. »

« look, i’m not a hero—i don’t claim to be one—nor am i admirable in the least. i’m just here because i’d feel bad if i sent your pretty face to an early grave; talking bird or not. »

« the road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom »

you acknowledge the statement with an amused  « hmph » and a small grin. the way he speaks in proverbs is dorky but you had to admit it was charming in its own way.

reaching the crossroads that led to the shelters, you noted that the roads were blocked by the debris and wreckage of past buildings, although how that terrifying orphanage is still standing escaped you.

« guess the only way to the bunkers is through, huh? you muttered. – it certainly does seem to be our only choice. with a heavy sigh, you grabbed your sword, propping the edge on the ground as you readjusted your grip of the handle. – this place gives me the fucking creeps… – then i believe it would be in our best interest to get through this place with haste. »

you laughed dryly, observing the uncanny glow of the vicious critters’ eyes peering back at the group from within the orphanage.

« i like the sound of your “plan”, v. » you concurred while running towards the building, sword pulled behind you, the friction from the blade’s contact with the concrete road producing sparks as you sprinted, ready to storm the abandoned building.

like my work? consider ordering a commission // buying me a coffee // checking out my art tag or my masterlist | links can be found on my desc

[interrogatormentors]

SOLLUX: they 2aiid they took all the metal out of my pan but ii can’t 2hake the feeliing they’re watchiing and lii2teniing. SOLLUX: my head hurt2 2o much FUCK SOLLUX: look ii’m pretty 2ure ii mii22 half of them but they’re better off w/o thii2 walkiing liiabiiliity here. SOLLUX: iit'2 not liike any of them came lookiing for me anyway.

ERIDAN: frankly speakin if you wwere talkin about any friends i made noww i ERIDAN: wwell lets just say after them i hold evveryone at arms reach so i dont really consider anyone my friend ERIDAN: but my creww and i get on easy enough ERIDAN: captains got an awwful bad luck streak but the helmsman shakes is her matesprit so wwe managin officers all get together ERIDAN: she evven upgraded his helmin right and all to this neww portable rig so he can be out an about wwhen not on designated helmsblock shifts. dowwnright charitable if you ask me ERIDAN: then again she obvviously has motivvations

[crzcorgi]

Only One

chapter 8 of “Little Lost Soul” ~ Negan x selectively mute reader (Y/N)

Catch up here!

2300 words

Warnings ~ Negan language, bit of angst (reader is selectively mute), hints at violence and reader was abused in past

Under a cut due to length.

Tags are at the end. If you want on or off the taglist, please let me know!

Feedback is greatly appreciated!!!

I looked down at y/n, hoping she was okay with my fucking choice. She smiled up at me, nodding her head.

 As we walked down the hallway to the elevator I realized something. I was feeling different, freer, fucking better than I'd felt in a lifetime.

 I couldn't save my Lucille. But I saved y/n. And that felt damn fucking good.

 She held onto my hand, her fingers rubbing my bloody palm. She was looking down, I wasn’t sure if she was upset, scared, shocked. Or shit,  even a mix of all three of them.

 “Doll?” I quietly spoke.

 She lifted her face to look right at me. No sign of fear or shock, a slight smile curling up the corners of her lips.

 She nodded an acknowledgment, obviously not able to speak.

 “I’m sorry sweetheart. Sorry you had to see that, witness what happens when a punishment must be doled out. I didn’t want you there.”  She kept her eyes on me, her hand moving up my arm, lightly rubbing. She moved closer to me, I wanted to tell her to not get too close, I was covered in blood and guts, I didn’t want her to get any more shit on herself. But I didn’t, just couldn’t. It was fucking nice. She still trusted me, after all the fucked up shit that went down. Everything she witnessed.

 She placed her head against my arm, I hesitated to move, but I lifted my arm and wrapped it around her, pulling her tightly into my side. She didn’t flinch, didn’t try to move away. In fact, she snuggled into me, right at fucking home.

 When the elevator stopped, neither of us moved. “We’re here, gotta get out of these fucking clothes.” I looked down to see her looking up at me, a tear rolling down her cheek.

 “Aww, fuck darling.” Jesus, this must have been so fucking traumatic for the sweet thing. I saw how strong she was, standing fucking tall, sitting through the whole fucking show, not a tear shed. But I guess it finally hit her, trying so hard not to look weak. I didn’t think, just turned towards her, gently placing my arms around her back, encouraging her into my arms. She quickly complied, her arms hooking around my neck. With a quick shift of my arms, I lifted her up into my arms, trying not to touch her with Lucille. The sweet thing placed her face on my shoulder, her small frame shaking from her now heavy tears.

 “It’s okay sweetheart, it’s done now. It’s fucking over.” I rubbed her back while trying to leave the elevator and avoid dropping Lucille. “Why don’t we clean you up first, then I’ll take a shower and get out of this fucking mess. I bet your little feathered fucker will be happy to see you, doll. Bet he missed you.” She sniffed, the tears letting up a bit.

 “Negan!” Fuckity fucking fuck, Amber.

 “I do NOT have the time or the fucking patience for you and your shit, Amber, so get back into your room.”  Y/N, tucked herself as tightly as possible into me, her arms pulling on my neck, causing my aching muscles to cry out all at once. I continued rubbing her back, I knew she was fucking overwhelmed by everything and certainly didn’t need Amber’s fucking shit.

 “Well, I’ve missed you, Negan!” I stopped reluctantly but knew I had to nip her shit in the fucking bud. I watched her face as she took in the sight of y/n in my arms. Her fucking eyes rolling so far back in her empty head they appeared to almost fucking disappear.  

 “DO NOT GIVE ME THAT LOOK!” I roared at her, feeling doll shiver, I pulled her tighter into me, making a tiny shushing sound into her hair.

 “Neeeegan! It’s my night!”

“Well goodie for you, it’s your fuckity fucking lucky night! I’m tired as shit so you get the night off!” I waved her off with Lucille, doll still holding tightly to me like a little monkey.

 “What?! It’s MY night, I’m supposed to be with YOU! What am I going to do?!” She stomped one of her fucking heeled feet, pouting like a fuckass baby.

 “DO NOT RAISE YOUR FUCKING VOICE TO ME!“ Amber’s eyes growing huge. “And I don’t fucking care, go paint your fucking nails,” I kept walking, y/n’s cries pretty much stopped but I wasn’t going to subject her to petty ass crap like this. “Have a girl’s night, go help in the kitchen. Go on a fucking midnight run for all I fucking care.”  As I reached my door, I unfortunately realized that I had to put the little lady down to grab my keys.

 “Can I put you down sweet girl? I gotta fish my keys out of my pocket.” She quickly unlatched herself from my neck, sliding down my body, rubbing right across my fucking dick, waking the fucker up. I can’t do this with her, she’s so fucking pure, so innocent. And I’m fucking anything but.

 I pulled my keys out, quickly unlocking the door and guiding y/n inside before fucking Amber reappeared. Little lady made a beeline for her feathered pal, the tiny fucker hopping his way up her arm to his perch on her shoulder, burrowing into her hair.

 “Lookie there! I said the little fucker would be happy to see you!” She looked over at me, her face streaked from tears and blood that had rubbed off of me. But a tiny smile appeared to be forming on her lips. Jesus she was fucking strong.

 “I’m just going to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” I started around my bed when I turned to go back, forgetting to lock the door. “I’m just gonna lock this, don’t need any crazies just walking the fuck in, okay doll?” She nodded her head, feeding the little bird some nut she must have had stashed in her pocket.

 I stepped into the bathroom, ridding myself of my gore covered jacket, throwing it over to the side. Sitting on the toilet, I pulled my boots off, sliding them over towards my jacket. I then took my socks off, about to pull my pants off next when I remembered that doll was filthy too. I stood up, grabbing a couple of washcloths. Turning the sink on, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. It fucking seemed that every time I glanced at my reflection I looked a few years older. Fuck.

 I soaked the cloths, adding a bit of soap to one. I then grabbed a dry towel and headed back into the bedroom. As I reached the sofa, I realized the sweet thing had fallen asleep. No wonder, but I didn’t want to leave her in the filthy mess she was in. I put the towels down, walking over to my cabinet and grabbing a pair of sweats and a clean tee. I stepped back over to the sofa, sitting down on the table, placing the clothing beside me.

 I spoke in a soft voice. “Y/N? Can you wake up darling?” She sat bolt upright, her eyes as big as saucers. Her head swiveling side to side, trying to find what caused her to wake.

 “Fuck doll, I didn’t mean to scare you! I just wanted to clean you up a bit.” I pointed to the towels and clothes near me. Her breathing slowed, and she nodded to me. “Do you want some help?” I took a hold of the soapy washcloth.

 She moved forward on the couch, placing her hand on the seat beside her letting the bird hop off of her. She then removed the sweater she had on, it was crusted with blood. “Let me take that, I’ll get it washed and back to you quickly.” She handed it to me, then quickly brought her arms up, tightly to her body, not wanting me to see the many scrapes, cuts, and bruises in various stages of healing. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I’ve got plenty of those myself. I don’t think there’s any fuckers out there that are without blemishes. It’s the way of this fucked up world.”

 She relaxed her arms a bit, letting them fall into her lap, the bird hopping around her. “Can I wash your face and your arms?” She nodded, moving even closer to me. I brought the cloth up to her face, gently washing away the bloody mess. She started to lean into my hand, her eyes closing. I took a hold of her chin, turning her face to get to the other side.

 She opened her eyes, smiling. “Thank you, so much.” Her voice quiet and raspy. She began to cry again. “I’m…so,” she slammed her fist down onto the sofa, obviously frustrated she couldn’t get her words out. She then began hitting herself, making me fucking gasp. No one had ever accused me of being caring, loving, gentle, fuck no. Not even before the fucking end. But there was something about this girl, this sweet doll. She made me care.

 “No, no, please don’t fucking do that sweetheart!” I threw the washcloth down, quickly taking a hold of her hands and pulling them to my chest. “Don’t ever let me see you fucking do that again, you understand?”

 She nodded, half heartedly, looking down towards her lap. I let go of her hands, and brought both of my hands up to her face, forcing her to look up at me. “You don’t have to speak with me, sweetheart, there’s no fucking need. We seem to be able to communicate fucking great without words. Hmm?”

 I looked into her eyes and could see her agreement. I also realized just how beautiful, fucking breathtaking , this girl was. She must have been something before the end. Un-fucking-fortunately, no one looks their best anymore. But doll, I could see the hidden beauty. She was truly fucking stunning. She was looking at me the same way, was she thinking the same thing? That maybe I wasn’t some mean ugly fucker? Shit, listen to me, thinking fucking nonsense.

 She fucking caught me completely off guard when her lips were on mine, her arms snaking around my neck, her legs suddenly straddling mine. Her warm core pressing into my rapidly growing bulge. My hands were still clutching her face but I quickly moved them around her body, taking a chance and grasping her ass.

 I felt her, heard her, moan, while her tongue worked its way into my mouth, causing my own groans to erupt from deep within my throat. My mind was yelling at me to stop, what the fuck was I thinking, I shouldn’t be doing this, she wasn’t in the right fucking frame of mind, she couldn’t make a rational decision. But Jesus fuckity fuck if my dick wasn’t tell me to shut the fuck up.This was real, not some fucked up pervy dream I was having. She fucking wanted me.

 I didn’t have to man up and do the right thing as we were soon fucking disturbed by a knock on the door.

 “Shit doll.” I saw a look of disappointment cross her face as she slowly crawled off of my lap, my hands dropping away from her ass. “Just a fucking goddamn minute!” I yelled over my shoulder at whoever was at the door.

 I lowered myself to my knees, moving in front of her, now seated on the sofa. I slowly brought my hands up to take her face gently between my hands again. “Y/N, I’m sorry, stay right here, okay? I will take care of this fucker and be right back.” A sweet sad smile slowly appeared on her beautiful face. A face I realized I couldn’t live without.

 I stood up, watching her place her arm down for her little pal to climb up. I turned to finish my steps to the door, pulling it open with an angry yank.

  “Jesus, what the fuck do you want now, Amber.” I ran my palm over my chin.

 “I want what’s mine, Negan, and that’s you.” Her bony fingers tracing patterns on my bare arm, her eyes darting up to my face, her tongue running over her fucking painted lips.

 “First off, Amber, I am most certainly NOT YOURS! And second,” I stepped out into the hallway, letting the door close behind me and forcing her fucking ass backwards into the wall, “I said you have the night off. So go back to your fucking room RIGHT NOW. And tell your bitch sisters to stay clear of my room. Got it?! Am I making myself fucking clear?!”

 She looked frightened and I could not have given a fuckity fuck. “What?! What do you mean?”

 Sighing, I reached up to roughly grab her chin. “I mean, and pay fucking attention, that I DO NOT WANT ANY OF YOU SELFISH BITCHES ANYWHERE NEAR MY ROOM! None of you, stay the fuck in your own rooms! And until further notice I WILL NOT BE SPENDING ANY TIME WITH ANY OF YOU. Do. You. Understand?!” I let go of her chin as roughly as I first grabbed it, causing her to stumble. I didn’t give a flying fuck.

 “But Negan…”

 “FUCKING GO! RIGHT NOW!”

 She turned on her heels, stomping back to her room like the fucking toddler she was. Those pain in the ass stilettos making a fucking clicking sound on the wooden floor that made me want to fucking rip my hair out strand by strand. She stopped when she reached the door to the wives quarters, turning her head to face me. I could see what looked like pleading. But I didn’t fucking care.

 She turned her head back, opened the door stepping inside and slamming the fucking thing shut. I let a breathe out that I had been holding in for a long time.  For a very long time. I fucking felt free. But I also felt nothing, nothing for her, nothing for the other wives.

 I only felt for one girl. That sweet girl waiting for me inside my room.

@negansource @texasgal2222  @rizflo-blog @catleesi-xo @negans-network    @melodicdolls @ohmyneganimagination-twd  @kitcat44  @jmackie1983 @bulletscrossbowpie @astrangegirlsmind @negans-dirty-girl @theatricalbride @jasoncrouse @neganscatleesi @yesfangirlfan @jdmsgal @sherrilynn67 @cherieann-2001

 @glittered-unicorn-lava @memphisgirl1977 @m3ment0m0ri @peculiarlittleprince @yellatthetopofyourlungs @tennantsforever  @bloody-jinxx @neganskitty @beingsad-is-kindofrad @blumenkind72 @yesfangirlfan @genevievedarcygranger @rhapsody-in-flannel @sarahlee8793 @mwesterfeld1985 @moonlight-devotion @missmich14 @haleyea @shadowstar123  @foreverplagued @see-you-then-winchester @jml509 @azanoni  @myheart4ever47  @starbabysparkle  @warriorqueen1991  @youll-all-get-yours  @xsvanjasx @alyisdead

[switchblades-and-cherries]

The Town That Time Forgot-Chapter 1

Ok so this is an Modern!Outsiders story that I have been thinking about writing for a while now. And because I want to make my life even harder lol. I think I’m also going to be tossing in the 100 writing prompt challenge by Sunshockk on Deviantart into the mix. Now whether or not I can actually write 100 chapters of this is a different story, but I figured it would be cool to see what chapters I could make with just 1 word as inspiration.

I actually chose not only the word but also who Ellie meets first with a random picker, so the fact that this has Sodapop in it doesn’t necessarily mean she will end up with him...We will see how the story progresses to see who she chooses ;) . Also if you would like to see what Ellie looks like, I drew a picture of her here .

All of the lovely boys are in this story as well, so do not fret. And because Ellie is 25, I have upped their ages a bit.

Ponyboy 19 Johnny 21 Sodapop 21 going on 22 Dallas 22 Steve 22 Two-Bit 23 Darry 25

This all being said, Let’s get to the story!!!

 Word Count: 1,824

Warnings: Cussing, Socs harassing Ellie

Word Inspiration: Bubble

"The town that time forgot"

That was where I was headed, the real name for it was Rocksville funny enough. It was a once abandoned town out in Oklahoma, but since has grown to a population close to seven thousand. Though the revival of the once ghost town was not what made it remarkable, or gave it it's name-No, it was due to the fact that the whole town was still modeled as if it had never moved past 1965. The buildings were built in that style, the food was still grown locally so that it could be sold for less. Heck, even the people never moved past the era, everyone still dressed in the fashion, drove the cars, even the houses were decorated with fifties through sixties decor. It was a Rockabilly dream, and my soon to be home.

When I had found the Rockabilly community I fell in love, having always been drawn to the era, I always wished that I could have been born then, instead of the nineties. When I changed my entire lifestyle, my mother suggested that I go live with my grandmother for a bit, and if I liked it, get a house of my own in the community. Grandma had always been part of my life since I was little, and had told me stories about her younger days, mom said that she influenced me, but grandma just says that sometimes the soul doesn't move past the times they loved the most.

So here I was, driving down the highway in my nineteen fifty-seven Chevy Bel Air, getting strange looks from people my own age, but thumbs up from my elders. Excited didn't even begin to explain how I was feeling, it was like a sense of longing was finally being fulfilled, like where I was supposed to be was finally within reach-And as I pulled off to the side road that led to the town I realized, it really was. I knew that the community was very closed off, but I didn't realize how much until I pulled up to the gate, it was like this whole town was in its own little bubble.

"Hello there sweety, what can I do for you?" The elderly man asked, walking out of his small room and up to my car.

"I'm here to see my grandmother, Donna Smith" I replied, smiling at the gentleman.

"Well I'll be, are you little Ellie? Donna talks about you a lot, glad to have ya finally stop by, My name is William" He smiled back.

"Very nice to meet you William" I replied before he nodded.

"Right then" he spoke before turning around and making his way to the gate. He grabbed the keys from his belt and unlocked the giant padlock, before pushing the gates open.

"Wow this place really is old fashioned" I stated to myself, watching as he waved me over.

"Enjoy your stay dear, and welcome to Rocksville" He told me before I kept driving, seeing him close the gates behind me and return to his room. The town was a bit empty on the way in, nothing but a few farmlands, but as soon as you hit downtown, you knew it. I felt like I was about to cry as I drove through the streets, people crossing, old cars lining the sides. Old soda shops, diners, and movie theaters, along with so many mom and pop shops. It was only after the second red light that I realized-I had no idea where grandma's street was in this town.

"I guess I should ask someone if they can give me directions" I stated, pulling off into a parking space on the side of the street. Cutting my car off, I gathered my purse and stepped out onto the street, quickly making my way to the sidewalk, making sure to give a thank you wave to the people who had stopped to let me get out and around my car. People were a heck of a lot nicer here than in the cities I've been to, that's for sure. I looked around for the best place to ask, there was a small clothing store in front of me, a small food store beside that. The mechanic at the end corner looked promising, if anyone knows almost everyone in town, it's a mechanic.

Mulling over my options, I was pulled from my thoughts by the sound of whistles and cat calls.

"Hey there pretty lady, haven't seen you here before"

"We would have remembered this one boys"

"Want us to show ya around? You'll have a good time"

Looking behind me I saw a group of what I could only describe as Socs making their way towards me. Looking forward again I rolled my eyes.

"No I'm fine thank you" I stated, trying to be polite, even if they didn't deserve it.

"Awe come on baby, it will be fun" what I could only guess was the leader, said as he grabbed my arm and spun me around. Ok, I take back what I said about people being a heck of a lot nicer here.

"I said no!" I told him, taking my arm from his grasp.

"Well looky here boys, the kitten has claws"

"They're more fun when they fight back"

"Makes winning them even better"

"Listen, I'm giving you five seconds to leave me alone," I told him, I may not look it, but if growing up with four older brothers taught me anything, it was how to protect myself.

"Or what?" The leader asked with a smirk.

"Or your ass is going to be on the ground"

"what did you say bitch?" he snarled

"One"

"You think you're tough shit huh new girl?"

"two"

"Ok I've had enough of your shit"

"Hey! Why don't you three piss off and leave the lady alone" A voice spoke up from behind us. I turned to see a guy who one could successfully describe just by saying "movie-star handsome". Short brown hair, bright blue eyes, and a jaw-line that should probably be illegal. He wore a blue mechanic outfit, with the top tied around his waist, showing off his white undershirt.

'Dang grandma these are where the good-looking guys have been hiding?!'

"Stay out of this Curtis, this doesn't involve you" The leader of the Soc gang spoke.

'Curtis? First or last name?' I wondered.

"Maybe not, but I'm not gonna stand by while three creeps harass her" He spoke, stepping in front of me.

'oh ok then, didn't know I looked that dainty but I appreciate the action'

"what did you say?" The leader asked, getting in the guy's face.

"Do you really want to do this again? Remember what happened last time" The man coolly spoke. The Socs just scoffed, the two in the back muttering their displeasure.

"You can keep the little broad, but this isn't over Curtis" The leader said before he and his goons left. The man sighed before turning around to face me. Seeing him up this close I could get a better look at him. He seemed older, not as old as me, but perhaps in his early twenties. Though his face said that he hadn't had the easiest life, there was a maturity to him that was beyond his age.

"You ok?" He asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Oh yeah, thank you, I really appreciate it" I smiled.

"No problem, though I would have liked to see you put him on his ass" he smirked, causing me to laugh.

"I would have too if you hadn't stepped in. But thanks to you, I didn't have to get my dress dirty" I smirked, this time it was his turn to laugh.

"You're new here, never seen you around" He stated.

"Do new people really not come here all that often?" I asked, this was the third person who said I was new.

"Well no-But the pink in your hair kinda makes you stand out" he smiled, motioning towards my pink streak.

"Oh...Yeah, I suppose it would" I chuckled.

"Were you needing help with anything?" he asked.

'Ok I stand by my first thought, people are a heck of a lot nicer here'

"Oh yeah, actually I do need some help. I'm here to stay with my grandmother for a bit, and I'm not exactly sure how to get to maple street" I told him.

"Oh that's simple, just head down this road and turn right on the last crossroad, onto Bel Lane. Keep going on that road till you come to a curve and it's the first road on your left right after the curve." He told me, gesturing the different directions.

"Keep going, make a right on Bel Lane, keep going, first right past the curve" I repeated.

"Got it" he smiled.

"Thank you so much, and for helping me out with those guys. I'm Elizabeth by the way, but everyone calls me Ellie" I smiled, holding out my hand.

"Sodapop, nice to meet you Ellie, hope to see you around" he smiled back.

"You too" I nodded, turning to head back to my car.

"Enjoy Rocksville" he called out.

"I already am" I laughed. I climbed in my car and looked over, Sodapop must have already gone back to the mechanic shop.

'Well this town keeps getting more and more interesting' I smiled to myself, pulling out onto the road and heading to grandma's house. With Soda's directions it didn't take me long to find the road, and soon I was pulling up into grandma's driveway. Being greeting by her small Yorkie, Pattie, as soon as I climbed out of the car.

"Hey girl, long time no see" I smiled, squatting down and picking the excited dog up.

"Is that my granddaughter I see!" I heard my grandmother's voice call from the front porch.

"Tis I!" I called back, rounding the cars and smiling. Grandma hugged me as soon as I stepped onto the porch, being careful of Pattie.

"Did you have trouble finding the place?" she asked as we walked inside.

"A bit, but a mechanic in town helped me after he helped me with a Soc problem," I stated, putting Pattie down.

"Oh dear, I hope they didn't both you too much, you have to be careful with some guys in town, they need a good smack upside the head" she stated, sitting down in her chair.

"Yeah" I laughed

"But Sodapop Curtis helped me out," I told her.

"Oh, he is such a nice young man isn't he...Single too" she stated with a smile, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Grandma! I just got here!" I blushed.

"I'm just saying" she shrugged, leaning down to pick Pattie up, and sitting her on her lap.

"I have a feeling living here is going to be very interesting" I laughed.

"You have no idea sweety" she patted my hand with a wink.

I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter, I had a lot of fun writing it. I’m going to have the next chapter out as soon as I can ^_^

[lilreesenerd]

Happy Birthday, Maison!

Summary: It’s Sam and Dean’s first opportunity to throw a birthday party for their little sister!

Warnings: injuries, blood, slight cursing

Words: 3.7k (oops)

After breaking through most every database in the country, they had finally found it: Maison Greene’s birthdate. 

“Hey, hey,” Dean sang, “Looky what I found!”

Sam laughed in disbelief, “No way.”

“Oh yes way, Sammy boy.”

“Well, when is it?”

“Uh…” Dean scanned the document and rubbed his neck nervously, “Next week?”

“‘Next week?’ Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Dean spun the laptop around for Sam to see. “Wednesday.”

“What are we going to do for her? Bake her a cake?” Sam said sarcastically and looked at Dean who had a reckless grin on his face.

“Why not?”

Back from the store with the basics for a chocolate cake, the brothers dropped the materials onto the counter in the bunker’s kitchen.

“So,” Sam looks like he is about to have to diffuse a bomb blindfolded, “how do we do this?”

Dean rolled up his sleeves and began pulling bowls out of the cabinets. “The first rule of baking, Sammy, is to pretend like you know what you’re doing. Well, that’s your rule. I actually know what’s going on here.” Dean winked, “Not my first cake rodeo.” The marathons of The Great British Baking Show and Cake Boss were about to pay off. 

Sam shook his head and smiled at his big tough brother putting on an apron and making a cake for their little sister. Technically half-sister, but you know about family and blood. 

Several hours, a dozen eggs, and several test batches later, the flour-smeared Dean is finally pleased with his creation. He grins through the flour and slides the pan into the oven. He turns to see the pony-tailed Sam mixing together the icing, flour streaking his hair.

“No, no, no,” Dean took a bag from his brother, “step away from the sugar.”

“But the recipe says–”

“Ah.” Dean held up a finger, stuck it in the icing, and licked it.

Sam frowned.

“No more sugar,” Dean concluded. “We want it this consistency, not not like cottage cheese.”

When Dean turned his back, Sam put one more pinch of sugar into the mixture and quickly stirred it in. “So, uh…” Sam slid the bowl away from him to reduce suspicion, “now we just wait for the cake to finish and cool so we can ice it?”

“Nope, one more finishing touch.” Dean reached up into a high cabinet for a bag of chocolate chips. His fingers grazed the bag. He was on his tiptoes, but he still couldn’t quite get it. Then Sam reached it down, grinning.

“Here ya go, shorty.”

Dean snatched the bag mumbling something about being average height and being able to reach without help, to which Sam laughed. Dean sprinkled chocolate chips into the icing, then opened the oven and sprinkled some into the batter. “Now,” he brushed his hands on his pants, “we wait.”

An icing-gone-wrong, a sink of dirty bowls, and two long showers later, they started the 14 hour drive to their sister’s place. They would make it in 10 the way they drove. A thought hit the both of them as they were buckling the cake box into the back seat: A present.

“Crap. What are we supposed to get her?” Dean is running his fingers through his hair. “She already has everything she needs, and she doesn’t want anything.” His knuckles start turning white as he grips the steering wheel, thinking.

“That may not be entirely true.”

“Explain, brainiac.” Dean snapped.

"Well," Sam shifted on his feet and started making motions with his hands, "we know she has everything." Cue Dean's eye roll. "But she doesn't have one thing." 

"Just spit it out, Sam. Oh," Dean caught on. Dean smiled that wide smile he only smiled when Maison was involved somehow. "We spend the week with her. You know, help out around the property, cook for her, clean, you know. That's something she can't buy." 

Sam nodded his head thinking about it, "That could work, if...if she doesn't run us off first." Dean whacked Sam in the arm a little too hard, making him yelp and rub his elbow in pain. 

Upon reaching the clearing, they pulled up to the house and killed the engine. They knew a surprise wouldn't work because Maison could hear the Impala from a mile away, but they decided to try anyway. The two grown men crept up to the house, the shorter one holding a little cake box like it had a porcelain baby in it. They threw open the door, yelling surprise! But were greeted by silence.

The living room was a mess: the couch turned over, the coffee table broken, the counter stools thrown across the room, and several weapons from the wall bloodied and strewn about.

“Maison?!” Dean yelled, releasing the cake and drawing his weapon before the box had the chance to hit the ground. He began sweeping the small home and trying to reconstruct the scene: the guest loft was clear, as were the main room and kitchen. He hesitated at Maison’s bedroom door. They had never been in there. Was this invading her privacy? Dean shook his head, clearing away those thoughts: she could be injured. He was going in. He burst into the room, taking in the well-lit room with large bay window above in a loft. The bathroom was clear and smelled of citrus. As he made his way up the ladder to the loft, he noticed how warm it got, the huge window allowing the sun to warm the cozy space. No one was up there except more pictures and a bazillion books surrounding a beanbag facing the window.

Dean met Sam back in the living room. “Well?”

Sam gestured at the back door, “Forced entry. Intruder moved in towards the couch, probably where Maison was,” he pointed out a small scattering of empty brass, “where she pumped him full of salt/iron rounds.” Sam held a casing up to Dean who recognized the markings as their sister’s preferred hybrid round.

“Yeah, she hit him alright. Look at this blood trail.”

“Right, but get this: it didn’t stop him.”

“Obviously,” Dean is pacing, following the blood trail from the door to the couch and eventually into the kitchen. “Whoa...there’s a lot--and I mean a LOT--of blood in here.”

Sam peered over the counter and gulped. That was enough blood for one of them to be dry, or both of them to be critical. “We need to find her. Now.”

“Hey, where’s Rufus?” They looked around the destroyed home and finally found a smeared bloody paw print leaving out of the backdoor.

“The garage,” they said simultaneously and took off through the pines, wondering what they would find.

A quick run later, they entered the garage through the back, ready for a fight or...Sam squeezed his eyes shut, removing the image of their sister, dead and mangled, from his mind. In front of him, Dean was rigid with anger... and fear. He couldn’t lose her. She didn’t deserve to die. He would kill anyone remotely involved in her injury or death.

Rounding her old Nissan pick-up, Sam’s foot slipped, and he almost fell. Crouching to look under the small truck, he found Rufus, unconscious--he hoped--and in a small pool of blood. He grabbed Rufus by the skin behind his neck and dragged him out where Dean could see him too.

“What the...,” A faint blue glow was tracing around the edges of a large gash along the dog-angel’s side. The blue moved so slowly and glowed so faintly that he likely would not awaken for several hours.

“Well,” Sam started, smoothing the fur around the German Shepherd’s face, “at least when Rufus wakes up, he can tell us what happened. He doesn’t go anywhere without Maison.”

Dean said nothing. He just began looking around for another pool of blood. “I got more blood.” The slight panic in Dean’s voice made Sam cover the distance between them in a manner of seconds. When he saw it, Sam understood the panic: the blood was flowing from behind a large barrel. Carefully, they circled around, with memories of Joe and Helen, Bobby, Kevin, and countless others in the forefront of their minds. Had Mais gone peacefully? Was it quick? How long had she suffered?

“Vampire?” Sam asked from behind Dean.

“Vampire,” Dean confirmed, showing the teeth. “Mais must’ve filled him up with dead man’s blood.”

“Speaking of,” Sam pushed the hair out of his face, “where is she? She isn’t in the garage and there are no tracks leaving the building.”

“Knowing her, she’s probably got some loft in here somewhere. Or,” Dean shone his light up into the rafters, “you know she’s a climber. Maybe she’s up there.”

“I dunno, Dean, it’s gotta be pretty hard to--there! Right there, Dean!” Sam pointed up into the rafters where they could see the wood turning red and a freckled hand dangling lifelessly. 

“What the hell, Maison,” Dean grabbed a ladder and started to climb to the rafters 30 feet above the floor. When he reached her, all he could see in the dim lighting above the flourescents was her body, red and shuddering with each breath, lips blue from the cold and blood loss.

“Dean,” Sam called up into the ceiling, “what’s happening? Is Maison okay?”

“Uh,” Dean was so overwhelmed with the joy of finding her alive, the pain of seeing her so injured, and anger at the vampire and himself for this happening, that his voice shook as he managed, “she’s alive, hurt pretty bad, lotta blood, but she’s breathing, so uh, there’s that, I guess.”

Sam sighed in relief, “Okay, just bring her down, and we can get her fixed up.”

Dean slid his arms under her legs and behind her back. She was so small compared to most anybody he worked with. As he went to lift her, she didn’t budge. Dean felt around, looking for the source of the catch, and found a rope tied around her thighs and herchest, holding her up in the rafters. Dean cut the ropes, and her body started falling away from him. He grabbed her legs and flannel shirt, eyes wide with the knowledge of what could have happened. Taking a deep breath, he thought through the best way to get both of them down to the ground intact. He carried Maison down in a fireman’s carry so that he could hold on to the ladder. Carefully putting one foot below the other, he managed to climb down the ladder while holding Mais on his shoulders. Almost at the bottom, he could feel the blood from Maison’s wound seeping into his shirt and dampening his shoulders. 

“Oh, God,” Sam said, helping Dean lay Maison down on a blanket Sam had found. “Uh...Dean?” Sam was hesitating to inspect the wound on her torso. She was their sister. He wasn’t just gonna look under her hood.

“Come on, Sam,” Dean had gone into autopilot: focus on what he can fix, and that was his sister. “We aren’t being pervs, we’re being her big brothers trying to stop the bleeding. Besides,” Dean lifted the shirt exposing her stomach area but still covering the rest of her chest, “she isn’t bleeding up there and she’s still breathing. We’ve got this.”

Sam gulped, and they set to patching her up. Several scrapes covered her arms, neck, and stomach, but the worst of them stretched about six inches long and went deep. Too deep. It would need stitches. The dark blood still oozed out of the wound, probably because she had been moved from the rafters.

“How many stitches do you think she’ll need?” Sam was holding the surgical wire from one of Maison’s nearby toolboxes and a curved needle. 

Dean took one look at Sam and took the supplies. “You start cleaning up the smaller scrapes, I’ll tackle the nasty one.” He carefully poured some cleaning alcohol onto the cut, Maison’s body clenching at the sting, and a small moan escaped her lips. “Sorry, sorry, Mais, I’m so sorry, but I gotta get this thing cleaned up.” He muttered to her under his breath, Sam dutifully wiping the smaller cuts on her freckled arms. “Okay, now this is gonna hurt like hell, but I got some meds for you. Just don’t ask where I got ‘em from,” he half-laughed, threading the needle. 

Sam and Dean usually used 4 or 5 stitches per inch, roughly, on a wound, but Dean used as many as he could cram into that wound. He didn’t want it to open up or scar too bad. 

“Now we take her to the house, right?” Sam asked, wiping the blood off of his hands.

“Yeah.” Dean stood there, staring at the blood on his hands and on his sister’s torso. He remembered the Mark... Hell... the nightmares...All of the awful things he had done,. That he would probably do to Masion in time...

Sam snapped him out of it by grabbing the blanket by Maison’s head. Dean followed suit and held the corners near her feet. Carrying her was a lot harder than they expected. If they got too close together, she would start to drag the ground, and the stitches would pull. Their hands kept slipping, threatening to dump her to the ground.

A long walk later, they laid her on the couch and removed the bloody blanket. Sam had the foresight to lay down a plastic tablecloth under her so as to avoid bloodying the couch. Sam opened her eye, shining a light to test for reflexes, and saw the flecks of blue illuminating her brown eyes. 

“Dean! Get over here!” 

Dean was in the kitchen, but was beside the couch in a flash, “What? Did the stitches break? Is she breathing?”

“Chill, dude, there’s just grace in her eyes. Rufus must be keeping her under until he can get to her. Speaking of, shouldn’t we go get--”

And Rufus burst in through the front door, teeth bared and growling, but obviously still weak. Oh, it’s just you. And he flopped down on the rug facing his human.

“Good to see you too, Rufus. How you holding up?” Sam addressed the angel, picking a leaf out of his fur.

I’ve been better. The limited grace I do have left, I am using to keep Maison unconscious until she is healed. I trust you have stitched and cleaned her wounds?

“Yeah, she’s beat up pretty good. We’ll hang out here and take care of her until she’s better.” Dean picked up the cake off the ground and set it in the refrigerator, “Guess we’ll eat this later.”

One week later and the small scrapes are only pink patches nearly healed, and the stitches are being removed. After the last one is out, Rufus allows Maison to awaken. The return of her free will was obvious: her finger twitched, and she curled her toes, and she wrinkled her nose. She sleepily opened her eyes, instinctively putting her hand out for Rufus. He was there.

“Hm, I had a weird dream, Rufus,” she opened her eyes to see a tired Rufus and her worried brothers. “Wha-,” and it came back: the vamp, Rufus’ injury, her injury....”Oh my God, how long have I been out?” She fell back on the pillow in pain as she tried to sit up.

Sam smiled sadly, “Seven days. We missed you, sis,” he put a hand on her shoulder, smiling.

“Yeah, you got a nice badge now,” Dean teased. “So, to catch up: we got the demon out of Wyoming, I found the rattling under the hood, and...Happy birthday!!” Dean pulled the cake out of the refrigerator with a flourish and carefully set it on her lap.

“Aw, guys, it’s beautiful!” The ‘death by chocolate’ cake was lopsided, icing falling off one side, and a third of the cake breaking off one the side. She scooped up a bite and forked it in her mouth, “Mm, I don’t know who sold you this ugly cake,” she swallowed, “but this is definitely the best cake I’ve ever had.” 

Dean beamed, confirming Maison’s suspicions, and Sam shook his head in disbelief, “There’s no way it’s that good. We made it ourselves!”

“Of course it’s that good, we made it ourselves!” Dean gently hugged Mais around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head.

Maison looked around at her two thoughtful brothers and worried guardian, tears coming to her eyes. She had people that cared for her, would go out of their way for her, and would sit by her side nonstop for a week, even making her a cake --and she was on some kind of painkiller. The first tear slipped out of her eye, meandered down her cheek, and disappeared.

“Oh, God, Maison? Maison! Where does it hurt?” Dean jumped back, and stared at his sister in horror, as if he had just broken her. “Sam! Grab the morphine! No--the whiskey, then the morphine--Mais? Mais, stay with me, we’re gonna take care of it. Rufus?! Put her under!” 

“No, no, Dean,” she sniffled, careful not to flex her core muscles at all, “y’all are just so sweet. It’s just been me all these years and...” she held Dean’s hand up to her cheek, reaching for Sam’s as well, “you saved my life. Thank you. I owe you, big time.”

Sam said, “No, you don’t owe us anything. You have helped us more than you’ll ever understand, and really,” he laughed, trying to find the words, not believing he was baring his heart to her, “You saved us.” He squeezed her hand and smiled, dismissing himself to finish some chores around the property.

Maison looked up at Dean next and saw his eyes were misty. “Thank you, Dean, for patching me up. Sam has a rough hand and would’ve left the scarring bad, and,” she could see his emotions running, rushing, mixing, and ebbing behind his eyes, “thank you. Thank you for--”

“No.”

“What?”

“You don’t ever have to say that to me.”

“Well--”

“No, Maison,” Dean sounded mad, but he was really just worried. He took a breath, “You’re family. More than blood. You’ve saved our asses more times than I can count, and we’re staying here with you until you’re 100%. After that, we’re calling you every day and visiting when we can. No if’s and’s or but’s about it.” He ruffled her hair and kissed her hand, strong but gentle and loving.

Maison wanted to move around. Afterall, she had been asleep for a week. As she started moving her legs, Rufus read the thought, and sent it to Dean who promptly held her in place. “Going somewhere, princess?”

“Yeah, I’ve been on the couch all week. I need some air.”

“No, Katniss,” he said referring to her tying herself in the rafters when she was hurt, “No outside. Just couch.”

Maison pouted. “Will you please take me outside?”

“No, you can’t walk, your stitches will tear.”

“Then,” she made her puppy dog eyes, “Will you carry me outside?”

Dean acted annoyed, but he was glad to be able to help her feel better. “Fine, but only a little bit.”

She smiled through the pain that shot throughout her body when he lifted her up. She had lost probably 5 pounds over the week, but even with those 5 pounds, she was still small. He saw her wince, and almost dropped her back on the couch, except she held onto his neck.

“Dean Winchester, don’t you dare drop me.”

He faltered, “Well...I’m not taking you anywhere outside the house. You’re still healing. Want to go up to your reading loft?”

She eyed him suspiciously, figuring he must have gone in her room at some point. He probably had a good reason to. He had a good soul. “...sure. But only if you sit and read with me for a while.”

He smiled. “Of course.”

This time, Dean had Maison in a princess carry when he climbed the ladder, as opposed to the bloody firemen’s carry a week ago. He set her down in her bean bag, fussing over her and offering pillows. Maison was in a bit of pain, but she knew she had had a rough bout with pain meds in the past, so she stuck with aspirin or ibuprofen. 

“Will you get me some tea, Dean?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he was glad to have a job that couldn’t possibly hurt Mais. “Green, sweet, or hibiscus?”

She was pleasanly surprised that he remembered. “Actually, will you look in the flower box by the window for some chamomile? Same deal as the hibiscus for prep, and same sugar as the green.”

“Got it. I’ll be right back. If you need anything, just holler.” Dean was picking up on her southern mannerisms and vernacular as he did when he stayed for any period of time.

“Thank you again. I’ll pick you a book,” She called down the ladder.

Dean set a pot on the stove to heat some water and went to pick some chamomile. He grabbed a handful, “I guess that’s enough,” and put it in a bag to boil. While he waited, he took the tablecloth and blankets off of the couch and into the washing machine with plenty of detergent. The tea was done, and he joined Maison up in her loft.

“Ooh, that smells good,” Maison held the warm mug in both hands, still thinking about the crooked red line on her midsection. While Dean was gone, she had inspected it--her first moment alone since waking up--and saw the care he had taken: she had about as many stitches as would possibly fit in that area. It would scar, but nothing like her other ones. She noticed she was wearing the same clothes, the guys opting for privacy over absolute hospital standards. They were so sweet. She felt the warmth of the mug seep into her joints and core. Hopefully, the chamomile would help her to relax.

“So,” Dean rubbed his hands together, “What book do you have for me today?”

“I have,” she reached for the shelf and winced, quickly returning to the beanbag, “ouch. Uh, Last of the Breed. Don’t judge the book by the author. It’s sooo good.”

“Hmm,” Dean got the worn book off the shelf, scanned the cover, and started reading. Maison took up the sun coming in through her window and finished her tea. When she fell asleep, Dean put the book down, marked his page, and carried her down to her bed.

Pulling the covers up to her chin, he tucked her hair behind her ear. Her face was still pale and drawn, her eyes pinkish when they were open, and breathing relatively shallow, but she was a Winchester. Her knife still in her waistband and her gun cleaned, loaded, and placed back under her pillow, she could rest easy. He kissed her forehead for a long time, regretting her being hurt, thankful she was okay, and angry at whoever orchestrated it.

He straightened and retrieved his book from the loft, finding a note inside:

Dean, I want you to take The Count of Monte Cristo with you. I think you’ll appreciate it as much as I do. Thank you for everything. With love, your little sister, Maison.

He grabbed the novel and went out to help Sam with the chores, Rufus tagging along, thankful that they had saved her this time, instead of putting her in more danger.

[deanssexplorations]

Naked Karaoke

One of the first places I started looking into when Kimber and I opened our marriage about five years ago was an online polyamory site. At the time I thought, “Oh cool, polyamorists, my peeps” but pretty quickly discovered that the polyamory scene is pretty different than the open marriage/swinging scene, which is where I ended up landing.

But one of the women I came across back then was named Catalina. I didn’t know her well, but we had connected on Facebook, and I was quite impressed. She is beautiful and intelligent, has great taste in music, and is married. To a guy I’ve recruited to be a second guy in MMF threesomes as it turns out. And has a boyfriend on the side (Catalina, that is, not her husband.)

I was quite interested in Catalina, but she lives fairly far away and had other things on her plate, so we never did connect. Which wasn’t that unusual at that time, so I just chalked her up to the “maybe someday” column and continued to send flirty Facebook messages from time to time.

Fast forward to about a year ago, several years after Catalina and I first made our acquaintance, not once during that time having managed to get together, when to my absolute surprise and delight I saw a private Facebook invitation from her - to her upcoming Naked Karaoke 2 party. 

!!

The invitation read, “Need we say more than the title... The first round was epic; you know if you were there...”  The invitation specified that each guest was to sing a song naked in front of a clothed audience, and that everyone there had to participate - no looky-loos.

Wow. I’ve been fortunate enough to have done some pretty fun and unusual things in my time, but this one just seemed off the charts. I have an exhibitionist/voyeuristic streak anyway, and am not shy in front of crowds. But throw in just the general naughtiness of the karaoke angle, and that my friend Catalina was throwing it, and I simply had to give it a try!

The problem was that the invitation came out approximately 10 days before the party, and Kimber and I already had dinner plans with friends of ours. One of our rules is that my shenanigans are not to interfere with the fabric of family life, so when I approached her with this opportunity she was not thrilled. But I impressed upon her the one-time nature of the affair, and after she heard it was Naked Karaoke she agreed I needed to be there, and agreed to let me go - after the dinner party was over.

Dinner with our friends was lovely. We had a nice conversation, although in full disclosure I was pretty distracted and kept my eye on my watch the entire time. Eventually Kimber and I said our goodbyes and drove home, at which point I got back into my car and high-tailed it to the co-hostess’ house (Catalina was co-hosting). I knew I was going to be arriving about an hour past the start time - bummer! - but that the party would still be going on. Such was Kimber’s and my compromise.

I found the house and parked nearby. As I walked to the door I could hear sounds of the party inside. Gathering myself, I knocked on the door. Keep in mind that this was a new group for me; I knew Catalina only, and even with her only through messages exchanged online. This would be my first time meeting her face to face.

The door opened to Catalina’s welcoming smile. I don’t know if she had been keeping an ear out knowing I would be arriving late, or had simply been standing near the doorway. Chances are the latter. At any rate, I was delighted to see her greet me, and even more delighted to see what she was wearing - or not wearing, as the case may be.

It was a head-to-toe fishnet body stocking, and nothing else. Except that her nipples were covered with two exes made of black tape. And when I call the body stocking fishnet, that’s being generous. It was an extremely loose weave, with threads a good half inch or so apart. With a hole in the crotch. It left nothing to the imagination.

I knew I was going to enjoy the party.

She ushered me in, accepted my donation of a six-pack of beer, and introduced me to a few folks, including her long-time boyfriend Nick, as well as one of her new boyfriends, Gary. We chatted for a while, and I made my rounds introducing myself to other folks as I got myself a drink.

I would say there were about 20 people there, roughly equally split between men and women. Most were fairly close to my age, and for the most part they were intelligent and attractive. There were a lot of Burning Man types, and I learned later that the primary way most of them knew each other was through Burning Man. Although there were a number of stragglers such as myself as well.

It turns out I had arrived during a break about mid-way through the karaoke session. Meaning I had missed about half of it, but still had about half to go. And it also turns out that many of the people who already sang hadn’t bothered to get dressed again, or at least not completely dressed. I saw a bunch of guys walking around wearing shirts but with their cocks out, at least one other woman beside Catalina wearing garters and a hat, but nothing else, and a few women who had thrown a shirt on after their performance but were wearing nothing from the waist down. On the other hand there were a number of men and women both who had apparently yet to sing and who were still fully clothed.

After several minutes Catalina and her co-hostess ushered people into the  living room, where they had arranged several couches and chairs facing an area where they had set up a karaoke system - right by the hostess’ stripper pole. Catalina stood up - still in her barely-there body stocking and black tape exes, and announced the next singer - a woman who (of course) I didn’t know.

The woman stripped down to bra and panties, took the microphone, and stood in front of the room. As the music came on, to a song I didn’t recognize, she began singing and the assemblage urged her on enthusiastically. After a while she reached behind her back and unfastened her bra, allowing it to fall off what turned out to be a very impressive set of breasts. She continued singing and the audience continued to voice its appreciation, and after a while she bent over and pulled her panties off as well, kicking them into the audience, and finished the song standing there entirely in the nude.

At this point I was reflecting how nerve-wracking it must have been for the first several people to perform. By this point in the evening a good half of the audience or so was naked, or in some form of it. Certainly half the guys’ cocks were hanging out. But the first person to stand up there and get naked - while singing karaoke - and everyone else was dressed - must have been a hearty soul indeed!

Catalina, who had been hopping from couch to couch, informed me that I was next. While she queued up my music on YouTube - that’s what everyone was using - I popped into the bathroom to disrobe. I did read the invitation. It was Naked Karaoke 2 after all.

I returned to the living room entirely naked and ready to go. Catalina hit the button and I heard the familiar guitar riffs of Bachman Turner Overdrive’s “Taking Care of Business” - the song I had chosen - emanate from the speakers.

I first sang Karaoke in the early 1990s, and the problem for me at least is that I’m entirely unable to carry a tune. Some of my closest friends and family insist that I must be tone deaf. I don’t think that’s the case, but I will admit I suck ass at singing. So the trick, I’ve learned, is to choose a song that has a good beat and doesn’t have a lot of vocal range. “Don’t Stop Believing” by Journey would be a bad choice for me for example. And it’s even better if it’s something people know and love and will clap or tap their feet along to. BTO’s “Taking Care of Business” has been my go-to ever since.

The other trick to Karaoke is that showmanship is more important than talent when it comes to making a crowd happy, and showmanship I have in spades. So even though this was a room of complete strangers, I belted out every line, flirted with the women in the front row (during the line “and the girls, who try to look pretty”), hopped around on stage, invited audience participation, and generally had fun with it. And the crowd did as well, clapping and singing along and hollering their appreciation. Which is a great thing, because it turns out to be a fairly long song, with a pretty long guitar solo in the middle. But no worries; I did just fine. In fact, when the final chords played a bunch of people gave me high-fives, laughed, and told me it was great.

Having my karaoke behind me, I took a spot on one of the couches and enjoyed the rest of the show. There were another eight or ten people left to go, and they exhibited various ranges of singing ability. But they all took their clothes off. During one guy’s (slow) song couples got up and danced along. Several seemed a bit nervous, but for the most part they too were having a lot of fun and going with it.

One thing that struck me, two or three songs after mine, is that people were generally starting in some state of dress and shedding clothes as they sang. Wish I had gotten that memo. One woman - who was attractive with an absolutely amazing set of breasts - started out completely attired in street clothes, then slowly unbuttoned her shirt, button by button, and took it off, revealing a lacy white bra underneath. Only then did she unclasp it, exposing her spectacular rack. I was grateful she did that before she got to her pants.

Catalina, being the consummate hostess, continued to move from couch to couch, and at one point I found her sitting next to me. With Nick, her long-time boyfriend, on the other side and Gary, her new guy,a little further down the couch. (Neither of these guys being her husband by the way, who was home with the kids.) At any rate, she asked me how I was doing, was I having fun and all that. I told her I was.

To prove it I put my arm around her and flirted a bit. In particular, I decided the black tape exes covering her nipples left too much to the imagination and had to go, so I reached down with my left hand, which was draped across her shoulder and peeled one off. She didn’t mind. Nick (I think) peeled the other one off. Or maybe that was me as well. Actually I think that was me.

During this time she had rested her right arm casually on my left leg/sort of in my lap. Partly because her arm was touching it, partly because I was peeling tape off her nipple, and partly just on general principles, my cock decided that was a good moment to make its presence known. I hadn’t had an erection previously that evening, including when I was singing, nor had any other guy I had seen. So I knew I was going to stand out.

Fortunately, as long as I was sitting on the couch and not standing upright, I was fairly unobtrusive. But she knew exactly what was going on, and even commented on the effect she was having on me. Or asked if the effect was due to her. I told her it was. She seemed to enjoy that, but after a few more minutes of flirting she was off to her next encounter. Probably with her long-term boyfriend.

So I was stuck there on the couch, completely naked, watching the next several acts, trying to relax and ease my erection down to a flaccid state. I’m not sure how many people noticed, but if anyone did they didn’t show any signs of caring. Eventually I found myself back to normal.

Probably the song that I had the most fun with - aside from my own time in the spotlight - was sung by the boyfriend of the co-hostess. He stood in front of the crowd, decked out in a cowboy outfit, including cowboy hat and chaps, then sang along to “Wanted Dead or Alive” by Bon Jovi (”I’m a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride...”). He was very good and did a great impression of Jon, and throughout the song did a slow striptease, removing item by item until he was standing there only in his chaps and his hat.

Needless to say the crowd went wild, and every (remaining) set of bra and panties in the audience was removed and flung onto the stage. It was a fricking awesome moment.

The final song of the evening belonged to Catalina. As she queued up her music she asked for each man in the audience to join her on stage, which I willingly obliged. She announced that this was a song she had been working on for the past five years, then pushed the button and sang along to her rendition of “I Want Candy” by Bow Wow Wow. Sucking on a lollipop and flirting with the guys on stage. Another very fun moment. Thank God my erection was gone by then.

Once everyone had a chance to sing they opened it up for anyone who wanted a second go, and there were a few duos who decided to give a song or two a whirl, but no more than that. A few people had to peel off, but others aggregated in clumps or danced to songs that Catalina queued up. I danced in a group including her and the garters and hat woman (who I later learned had done an amazing rendition of Joe Cocker’s “You Can Leave Your Hat On”; bummed that was in the first half and I had to miss it). Both still for all practical purposes naked.

I actually suggested to Catalina that we head out and find a place to fuck, but she told me she was dealing with strep throat and had to get home. She had been spending a fair amount of time with Gary that evening and I told her we could do a threesome (he was game; I had already checked with him), but she insisted that she wasn’t feeling well and declined. I found out later from Nick that she had checked with him and they decided not to do anything that night because he had a big photo shoot the next morning, but Nick later told me he wished he had sent her, Gary, himself, and me off to a hallway or spare bedroom and had her take care of all of us.

Oh well.

Eventually I found myself in the hot tub with four other people, two men and two women, all naked, chatting about all sorts of experiences. Gary was one of those guys. So that night, at least, he also didn’t end up with Catalina. After hot tubbing for a while I packed up - meaning got dressed - and drove home.

I didn’t have sex with anyone that night, didn’t even kiss anyone. The most I “got” was a casual brush of a forearm against my cock. And yet I had as much or more fun that night just singing naked in front of the crowd and watching everyone else do the same than in any sex club or erotic encounter I’ve had before, or since. And that was the general consensus among the rest of the crowd, including a large number of sexually experienced types. Sometimes “innocent” experiences like that can be as much or more fun than full-blown hardcore encounters.

The invitation was right. Naked Karaoke 2 was epic.

[thunderheadfred]

Art vs. Fic - The Eternal War

I saw a post a while back about the disparity between notes on fanart and fanfic and yep. Holy shit. It’s really true. Now, I’m not disparaging that and I’m certainly not complaining. I’m happy to have anybody looking at my work at all, whether that’s writing or art. Every note is a thrill.

Also, I don’t think this speaks to some massive devaluation of fanfic - especially on a site like tumblr. There are many reasons art gets reblogged like crazy; this is an image-sharing website first and foremost, and images have a lookie-lookie quality that makes them easier to digest and share immediately. Writing is something you have to sit with, you can’t just absorb it in five seconds and keep scrolling. So, that’s an important consideration.

But. STILL. Even bearing that in mind, as someone who participates in fandom as a writer and (occasional) artist, let me tell you, the ratio of attention is pretty wildly out of proportion to the work involved. Writing a fic chapter takes a long time. Drawing isn’t easy either, but a quick sketch or doodle still gets 100x the attention, compared to a chapter that might have taken a month to write.

I’m not good at giving fic the attention it deserves either, and I write fanfic. I’m guilty of image reblogging at the expense of long, dull-looking text blocks. I’m guilty of scrolling past fic updates and drabbles because I don’t want to take time to pause and read. And I write, read, and love fanfic.

In comeuppance, I’ll keep trying to recommend more fics - and I always leave feedback on things I read now - but it’s hard to tip those scales back into balance, man. Also, I’m a slow reader, so… I don’t have a lot to share, honestly. Everything about fanfic is time consuming, and that works against an ephemeral image sharing platform like tumblr.

TL;DR - people respond instantly to images and are more slow-burny with fic. I’m a Slytherin by nature, so my eventual plan is to use chapter-by-chapter illustrations to cross promote Red Streak like the greedy, note-hungry attention demon I am. If I can’t beat the system, fine. I’ll bend it to my will.

[thecosmiccuttlefish]

White Spot

02/28/2017

9:33pm

Today was hard again. I didn’t exercise for most of it though. I think my brain is starting to change. 

I woke up, mum announced since I restricted so heavily (I didn’t eat my salad, with my dressing, and then just my salad) when I was away with dad I would have a hearty breakfast. 

Yogurt with berries and granola. The less calorie kind. I made sure of that “Can I eat this instead?”

ANYWHOO. Then we went for a walk. We drove up to the start of the trail as opposed to walking and I didn’t protest about that. 

While walking mum was bringing up things about my future as she does. I was talking about the stewardship program for university, and mum said “Did you see the oscars last night?” She then went on to talk about how she sees a future for me in film and story telling. Arg! The thing is, her opinions really do matter to me. They shape me. But sometimes, I wish she could support me regardless of the path that I’m walking in. She then went on about “burning bridges” between my brother, sister and I.

“The thing is Marg, I don’t want you to burn any bridges.”

“What do you mean?”

“With your brother, sister and you.”

“So you want me to take medication for them!” 

“No! Take medication for you! But they’re your friends, they’ll be there for you when mum and dad are no longer around and I don’t want you to burn bridges with them.”

It went on like this for a while.

Afterwards, walking down, mum started talking about going for lunch at White Spot with grammy and her sister (my mum’s aunt). She asked me to start thinking about what I’d like to order. Of course I’d already been thinking. “I’m not that hungry.” I said. “I know you had a late breakfast.” She said. A kiss of disappointment. I was hoping for a “It doesn’t matter.” Anyways, she went on.

“Three options. I’m tired of fighting with you. I’ll give you three options. Clam chowder and zoo sticks. Clam chowder and an english muffin or a cheese quassadilla.”

“How about a cup of clam chowder and a cup of qinuoa”*

*A cup of qinuoa is not a real menu item. It could probably be arranged though.

“No Margo! You can’t have a cup of qinuoa! I’m tired of your obsessive foods. Qinuoa, brown rice, oatmeal. I’m done!!!”

At the restaurant, I pulled out a menu and pointed to a chicken salad thing. Which is bad because i’m an vegetarian for the environment and ethical reasons.  “Mum.” I said softly. “Mum.” 

She didn’t say anything.

I put the menu on the table in front of her and pointed. “Can I have this.”

She said, with the air of a woman floating on a boat, and me being some unfriendly fish underneath. “Order whatever you want Margo.”

I couldn’t believe it. 

“What are you having?” Asked my sweet, sweet grandma.

“A side salad.”

From the corner of my downward pointed gaze I’m pretty sure my mum looked at my relatives with a knowing “Aaaand of course she would.” Kind of look.

“Are you sure you don’t want a soup? Coconut chicken-” “No.”

Why would she do this? Why would she let me starve? 

I went to the bathroom. “I’m going to the bathroom.” “Margo sit down. Sit down.” “Bathroom, bathroom.” Strolling on the way there, I hoped that the server would come and she’d be forced to order for me.  

I cried on the red counter. Should I do high knees? 500? Right here? I’ll order nothing. I’ll stick with water. That’ll show her. 

I was in the midst of a sob when someone opened the door. Teary eyed I marched back to the tabled. The server was there. My wish had come true. 

I sat myself on the cushion as my mum asked, concerned “Margo what do you want?” The room was red and hot. I had no cares if people saw me crying. 

“Nothing, nothing.” I said, hot and barley pronouncing a word, shaking my head and looking away. 

“Margo...”

“Nothing.”

“For you?” Asked the server of my grandmother.

“I’ll have the coconut chicken curry soup and an english muffin please.”

My turn. 

“And you?”

“I’ll have the same but with a clam chowder.”

“Mmm hmm.” My grandmother made an approving sound. 

The concerned waitress, swept our menus away. My mum reached out to my hand: “That was very brave of you Margo.”

“WHY DID YOU HAVE TO ABANDON ME?!” I sobbed.

The elderly couple seated next to us looked over.

“I didn’t abandon you.” My mum said, with an ounce of laughter in her voice. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.” We left the White Spot. 

The following conversation is roughly transcribed from memory. In real life it probably involved a lot of repeating things and was a bit longer. Next to the brick wall of the mall, on a street under a grey sky it began.

“Why did you do that? That was so mean!” I cried  “Mean? Do you ever think how you make my life hard? I’m trying to have a nice lunch with my mum and my aunt and I have to worry about you!”

“No. I know. But what if I ordered nothing?! What if I just had water?” “Well maybe that’s what you would’ve needed.”

“You would’ve let me starve?!”

“Maybe thats what you need! To get really really sick, go in hospital for three months and then you’ll get better. I don’t know!”

“Don’t let me starve!” “Well it’s hard, Margo!” I put my face between a corner made of brick wall to a store and glass stuck out at a ninety degree angle from it. An entrance way or something. I don’t know. I just stuck my face in a corner and cried. 

“That was so mean.”

“Well you know what? You can just go be hopeless by yourself then.”

She walked inside.

I considered taking of, going for a run and not coming back to eat. Instead I walked inside the American Eagle and walked around.

Then I composed myself and sat down. “How was American Eagle? See anything you want?” Asked my grandma. “No.” That was that. No more talking.  I ate mostly everything. We left, and I said “I’m sorry for my anxiety.” To my relatives. “It’s alright.” Said my grandmother’s sister. It wasn’t really, I don’t think. “Thats’s what we’re here for.” Said my grandmother. 

We went to the department store, I went downstairs to get a choker mum was going to buy for me. I was down there a while because I was trying out different types. She shook her head at me while at the cash register as I came up the stairs. 

“Hey. I can’t be perfect all the time.” “You can’t be perfect any of the time.”

“Thanks Mum.”

“Well-”

“I ate mostly everything. I took those last steps up one at a time because I knew what I was doing was wrong.”

“But you were down there so long.”

“Ya! Because I was trying on different chokers.”

“Oh. Well I didn’t know that.”

On the way downtown to my appointment my mum started crying. I noticed water welling at the bottom of her eyes, and then hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Whats wrong?” I asked 

“If you need to ask that, then there’s really something wrong with you.”

ps: At out appointment today, Psychologist #3 (Who is actually a psychiatrist and doctor) said people find specific details interesting. So here’s the thing that made him laugh. I realized during my trip with dad that I could say.

“I can’t eat that. It’ll give me anxiety.”

and my dad would say:

“Really?”

And I’d say

“Ya.”

and then he’d say:

“Oh. Okay, you don't have to eat it.” 

And the eating disorder inside of me would say (In a high evil-esque voice) “Well lookie here!” I found a way out. Or, my eating disorder did. I can’t give into it. 

Anyways that made him laugh.

pps:

For personal reference here are the different psychologists:

psychologist #1: The one I see for all my anxiety and depression issues. Is a psychiatrist. Is a lady. Pale face, white blonde hair, has dog named strudel.

psychologist #2: The family ED therapist. Very nice lady with big eyes. 

psychologist #3: The guy who is the expert on everything and does brain feedback things. In this way he should be psychologist #1 but I see him the least. So there. He’s nice. And smart. I saw a girl with legs like toothpicks and blue streaked hair come out of his office today. Does she dress like to take some attention off of her emaciation? I think that’s the last appointment I have planned for his office.

Also: psychologist #3 said some VERY HEARTENING things. Like: 

-50% of people with an eating disorder (or was it anorexia specifically) never recover. 

-The other 40-50% are in and out of it for the rest of their lives.

-When I asked him if there was a chance of full recovery, he told me that you never escape the small voice in your head. That it’ll always be my go-to in times of stress.

-If you’ve ever been diagnosed with an ed (actually I think it was just anorexia) your chances of death are 12x HIGHER THAN A REGULAR OLD JOE! Cool beans amigos. 

I’ll be alright, you’ll be alright. Ask yourself what you need to do and then do it.

[libgds]

I think I may officially owe the girls another trip.

Seriously though, they have handled all this like champs. We woke up in the morning and the plan was to go to the tide pools for low tide and then the exciting job of laundry and showers (OK, I admit I do the find the idea of a shower to be exciting.) If we were really booking, I wanted to visit the whale watching place and get us booked for a trip tomorrow.

Not so.

Today was no better than last night. Still no battery power and when I turned it on, the LP Leak detector went off every minute or so and the generator would not rev up, so now we had a dead fridge on our hands. In one of my few streaks of luck, I had gone ahead and put the frozen ice packs in the freezer from when I was dealing with a cooler, so I quickly moved all the must cools to the freezer and threatened the girls’ lives for unnecessarily opening the fridge. (I had noticed earlier that they are lookie-lou’s who like to stand with the door open and think about eating.)

In another stroke of luck, I had also brought a separate propane grill. I did need to assemble it, but that pretty much involved screwing on legs and the line for the tank. I am not handy, but I am competent enough to handle that. So I put it all together to warm up our leftover bacon for a small breakfast.

We then donned our rubber boots and headed for the shore. It was a pleasant walk through the pine forest down to a bay. We got there as the tide was reaching its lowest point. It was pretty cool. We found crabs, a lobster, limpets, snails, barnacles, and clams/oysters/mussels everywhere. The girls had a great time exploring and climbing. They were a bit bummed that we did not find any sea stars, but I think they still were satisfied with the excursion. Yay! It was the thing I really hoped they would like and be the memory they carry with them from this trip.

  Once they had their fill and the tide started to come in, I knew it was going to be time for me to deal with the mechanical issues. Blah. I stalled by making lunch. The grill came in handy for hamburgers (still frozen, so did not food poison these two.)

I started up the camper and was getting ready to pull in the slideout so we could go into town and get our laundry and showers. I was resigned to “roughing it” in my expensive new tent on wheels, but things got more complicated. The slideout would not come back in. The axillary batteries were dead, the generator wouldn’t start, and I had no cell phone service. Fuuudddggeee.

I grabbed my warranty info and headed to the Ranger Station to see if they had a number for a camper mechanic. They had one and directed me to a pay phone. Of course I got an answering machine. I left the number for the pay phone and told him I would wait for an hour. We passed the long hour in the not yet functioning bus stop while the girls made the best of things by earning their Junior Ranger badges and having a flip-flop throwing contest for distance. Like I said, they have been taking this like champs.

Flip-flop throwing for distance

Once the hour passed, then I called the warranty company. We chatted for a bit and she connected me with my original dealer. He needed to “research” the possible solutions, so I gave him the number to the pay phone. After he tried calling 3 or 4 times, I noticed the tiny sticker that said, “No incoming calls.” Double fudge.

For a $0.25 a minute, I talked and they decided I needed to get my auxiliary battery jumped because the slideout was not getting enough power to retract from the dead battery and the idling engine was a slow way to charge. I had my trusty battery pack with jumper cables, but it did not have enough umph for the job. That’s when I went begging for help across the way. My neighbor had slideouts, so I hoped he could give me a jump or know how to manually bring it in, because I looked through the manual and the manual way involved removing tracks, unhooking a battery, and having a ratchet wrench. Strikes one, two, and three.

#CurrentMood

Devon was the nice man’s name and he looked at my batteries and was all, “You can’t get enough power from jumping one because these are each 6V and you need a 12V.” Luckily, for me he had an extra 12V and he hooked it up and we got the slideout in! Yay!

He then explained that the LP leak detector going off was not because of a propane leak, but as a low or no battery power indicator. So the good news is we were not in danger of suffocating last night. He suggested turning on the generator to charge the batteries because once he had his battery hooked up we could see I actually had ¾ of a tank of propane. Unfortunately, he had already unhooked his battery and I did not have enough juice to get the generator started, so I left the engine running and went back to the pay phone to update the dealership. When I got back, it still had not been enough time to get much juice in the batteries and now the stairs were not automatically retracting. Fudge on a stick!

The fastest way to charge the batteries was to drive, but I could not drive again because of the steps. Devon was stumped, so he called his brother who happens to be a RV mechanic in Indiana! He had him look around for a non-existent override button to make the stairs retract. Then he was going to pull a pin and manually put them up and then I’d have to bungee them to keep them up, but he brought over his battery again, we got the generator going, and the stairs retracted.

Whew.

Now that we were mobile, it was off to do laundry and get a shower. I ran the generator the whole time to really make sure the batteries were charged. We could do without lights, but we needed our fridge.

The Laundromat reminded me of why I hate Laundromats. It was $4 to wash and the washer’s spin cycle was weak, so I had to wring out all the clothes to avoid $20 in drying. Once that was done, we went to the showers. Again, generator going the whole time.

This place had a set-up I’d not encountered before and I liked that it was 24hrs, no interacting with a clerk needed. It was an easy to understand coin operation (I went to one once that had no price posted, so I deposited a lot of quarters in a broken one that I did not get back.) Unfortunately, it was 4min timer with no warnings. I was soaped up and had conditioner in my hair when it went off, so I got a double shower. Thank goodness I had enough quarters and did not have to get dressed soapy to retrieve more (been there…)

We arrived back at the site and the girls did a good job of directing me back in even though it was dark. (I will need them to train Freckles and Lester on this.)

We got a fire going, reheated sausages, and ate more s’mores.

Tomorrow we are going to go into Bar Harbor and see if we can luck our way onto a whale watching trip.

  I Never Trusted Slideouts I think I may officially owe the girls another trip. Seriously though, they have handled all this like champs.