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sweetbillwriting · 6 months ago

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In The Dead of Night

EIGHT

Characters: AU Eric played by Bill Skarsgård from The Crow (2024)

Setting: This story is set in A WHOLE OTHER WORLD than the movie. Shelley isn't a part of this story. Eric will be different from the movie, especially because I haven't seen the movie.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

Notes: This chapter can be triggering!

I wanted to stand close to Eric and let all the feelings out against his shoulder, but Odin, that stupid dog, destroyed it. Suddenly he had woken up from his bed and realized there was a big bird sitting in the open window, on his favorite person's knee, and he barked loudly. Crow jumped, and with an irritated caw, he flew away and left just the scratch marks on Eric's knee behind.

Eric quickly let go of me to give Odin a look.

“Go to bed.”

He didn't sound irritated or shouted like Robin usually did; he sounded more cold and authoritarian. Odin dropped his ears, and with a low head, he walked to his bed. I had never seen him act like that and I stared in astonishment. Eric really was something else.

“I'm sorry, honey… I just needed to,” he excused himself, like it was his dog who had barked. He stood up and hugged me close so I could lay against his safe chest. I looked up at him after a minute and dried my cheeks again.

“Can't you tell me more about you? You know almost my whole family tree.”

It was true. Eric had a big interest in knowing all kinds of things about me but succeeded in making it all about me instead of letting me know anything about him. He looked away for a few seconds but then looked down at me and nodded.

“Yeah… Yeah.” He continued to nod but swallowed hard. I could see it was hard for him to visit old memories, but it would be good for him to talk about it all, to see it for what it is, and not go around with anxiety the whole time.

×××

In his wardrobe, among trashed t-shirts and classic sneakers, he took out an old Converse shoe box. It looked like it had stayed with him for a while, and when I saw the shoe size text on the side of the box, I understood it must be really old or someone else's. It must have been a while since he wore size 7.

Eric sat down next to me in bed; he was in just black boxers, and I was dressed in the purple t-shirt he wore the day before. Both of us looked at the box like it was something mythical, and after he had dragged his hands over it a couple of times, he opened it. It was mostly photos in it, some birthday cards but also a toy car, an action figure I didn't know the name of, and a little Asian figurine—a man with a sword.

“So… This is my childhood.” He said it silly, like it was a joke, but I understood he did that just to cover up the other feelings. I dragged my hand over his forearm and laid my hands over his that lay in a fist with the other one in his lap, where he sat in a lotus position.

“Can I look?” I asked carefully.

“Yeah, it's nothing, nothing special,” he said with a shoulder shrug and looked away. I knew he just said that because he was awkward; both he and I knew his childhood had not been like mine.

“That's the very first picture of me. That I know of,” he said with a small smile and pointed at the picture in my hand. It was a big eyed little boy in a sweatshirt set. It looked really 90s in a washed-out green color. He stood in the middle of a living room, next to a brown leather couch and also a baby walker in light blue.

“It's… It's at my foster parents’ house. I couldn't walk yet when I came to them, so… So… So they started to teach me that.”

I crawled closer to him and looked at him with big eyes. I wanted him to feel safe with me, and when he looked at me with glassy eyes, I knew he felt that. I kissed his cheek and lips, and he breathed deeply before continuing to talk.

“I hadn't learned to say anything either, so they taught me that too. No one really knows why I was so late with everything because my biological mom, Linda, never said anything about it. I just know what Lotti and Eric, my foster parents, have told me. I was healthy and so on, or I weighed too little, but nothing that serious ehm…”

“But why did you have foster parents?” I asked carefully. It felt weird that I already knew so much but was forced to pretend. If I didn't… I didn't even want to think about what would happen if he found out that I already knew some of his history.

“Linda, my biological mother, did a few months in prison for dealing drugs, so I moved to Lotti and Eric and then continued to visit them until I was nine, and I moved there and visited Linda instead. I don't really know why it happened then,” he shrugged his shoulders. “It was a fucking hell living with her for all those years, but no one cared. More than Lotti and Eric then or… Mom and Dad, like I started to call them…”

“You can call them that; if you see them as your parents, you should call them that.”

Eric shook his head and started to look through the photos by himself until he found a picture of him with them, but also Robin. They stood outside of the house together with the parents behind the kids. It looked really arranged, and both the boys had white button-ups and black pants. It looked like they were maybe six and eight years old.

“I don't have the right to call them that anymore. This is from Eric's brother Albert's wedding, or before we went there. It was a neighbor who took the picture.” It was obvious he spoke quickly so he didn't need to talk about why he didn't call them his parents anymore, but I had my guess.

“That's Robin, their real son. Ehm…” He laughed a little and looked closer at Robin's big smile in the picture while he himself looked terrified, holding his father's hand close to his face. “He was… We had fun when we were kids. He really took care of me, but… I don't know, something changed, and I guess he wanted his parents for himself.” He said it with a shoulder shrug like it was a natural thing, even the most natural thing, like he maybe didn't have anything to do there.

“I was trash. Or was,” he laughed sarcastically and rubbed his eye. “I guess he started to get what I was. I was an addict's son. I was a prostitute's son… I came home to them smelling like filth and had bruises from my mom's Johns and ate so much I puked on their floor…” Eric looked down at the pictures he had spread out in front of him. It looked like normal family pictures, just that he was too thin when he was little, and when he got older, he had visible bruises on his limbs. I sat and looked at the pictures too, so when Eric suddenly sobbed, it came as a surprise. He bent his face into his hands and cried silently, but his shoulders bobbed. I dragged him close to me with my heart beating heavy in my chest. Fucking Robin. Fucking stupid Robin, who thought he was a victim. Who thought he got too little love?

I hushed Eric soothingly and dragged my hands through his hair until he had calmed down. He looked at me with red eyes and wiped his nose against the back of his hand.

“I get that he hated me because his parents were so nice to me… And, and I didn't deserve it because… I wasn't one of them. I'm still not one of them. I'm…” he looked at me and smiled a little. “I am white trash, a junkie, filth, and… just.. A load for everyone… Why are you even here?” He said the last sentence like it was a joke, with his tears streaming. I looked at the beautiful, kind, sensitive man in front of me and kissed his face over and over.

“Don't talk about yourself like that. You're magic. You're pure fucking magic. You are love,” I said and looked him deep in the eyes. “You're the best man I've ever met.”

×××

We laid close together, making out so deeply it felt like I was on my way to crawl inside of him. If I could, I would have. He really was the best man I've ever met. He cared so much; he listened to everything I said and always wanted to do better. Many men didn't even know what that meant. I wanted him deep inside of me, as deep as he could, and I took off my clothes quite fast, and then I dragged his boxers down too. He let me hold the rail and let me sit down slowly on his hard cock. Even if I was really wet, it was a bit of a struggle, and I made a long, dragged-out sound with both pain and pleasure. He looked at me with big eyes, and they got heavy when I finally had taken so much I could of him.

“Your pretty pussy… Never thought I would get a pussy like yours…” he said and sat up which helped me take even more of him. I could feel him stab my cervix with the head of his cock, but he didn't say anything about my little pained sound; he was used to it.

“Bad boy…” I whispered and took his head between my hands while I started to rock my hips against him. “Bad bad boy…” I moaned loudly while he had started to lift me and lower me a little, assisting me to ride him. Eric nodded a little but looked at me with big tearfilled eyes. He begged for kisses silently, and I kissed him over and over, in the rhythm of my rolling hips.

“Do you love me? Say that you love me,” he said with his softest voice. At the same time, he pushed me backwards so he could hammer his hips much faster. I moaned loudly by his fast, hard movement.

“Say that you love me,” he said with a whinier voice. He laid his hand on my mound, pushed down a bit, and let his thumb find my clit to play with.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you, Eric, I love you so so much…” I moaned and leaned back completely, letting the orgasm take over. It was true that I loved him, and I had done that even before I met him, but that I couldn't say to him. “I love you,” I said again before feeling in my toes the orgasm creeping up on me and then exploding in my sex and running through the rest of my body.

×××

As usual, I snuck away from Eric after our lovemaking to refresh and also let his seed drip out from me in a better place than under me in bed. I hoped we could continue to cuddle and talk about him, but when I came out, he stood in the hallway in running gear, and Odin was on a leash around his waist.

“He needs to pee, so we’re going out for a bit; is that okay?” He asked while Odin whined in anticipation.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” I said and walked up to him, close to his body. Eric smiled a little and lifted my chin with two fingers. It was a little sign I could stand up on my toes and get a kiss. We kissed a few times before they left me.

I went back to bed, took the Converse box again, and looked around at the pictures. The most were such ordinary family pictures you could easily miss what the pictures also told you. Little Eric held his parents hands so hard his fingertips became white, Lotti's eyes at him with worry and love. His father Eric’s protectiveness. He carried him even when he was probably a bit too old for it, but he also was quite little and thin, so it wasn't that hard.

I looked at a few pictures of him in his teens. One was a picture of him and Robin, standing in the same place they did in the picture Lotti had on her wall, but in this picture Eric maybe was fourteen and still shorter than Robin. His hair was black and laid down to his shoulders. It looked like he had then cut it in layers with the kitchen scissors. He had smeared black eyeliner around his eyes and dressed in a black hoodie. Robin stood next to him in a light blue polo shirt and a perfect side bang, as the fashion was then. They could have been brothers, but it didn't look like there was much love between them. A wall of air was between them, and neither of them smiled. There was also one more thing that made it obvious their lives weren't like brothers; Robin glowed with health, but Eric had dark rings under his eyes and cracked lips, but also, if you looked closely, you could see a faint bruise on his neck. I knew he was doing martial arts, but something told me this wasn't from that. The look in his eyes said to me things happened in his life then.

There was also a picture of him a few years later. He had stretched out then and had a neon green buzz cut. Next to him stood Lotti, pulling him down in an embrace. Eric was actually laughing in the picture. I dragged my finger over his young, happy face but also the System of a Down t-shirt he wore.

It was obvious he loved his mom Lotti so much, so that he didn't have contact with her today I couldn't understand. He looked like a Mama's boy, and on top of that, he needed so much love because he had been mistreated by others so much.

Eric needed love. I decided to do something special for my man and made myself ready to do some grocery shopping. I would do something really warm and comforting to him. A rich stew that could boil for a long time and make a playful dessert. Just when I was ready to go, Eric and Odin came in through the door, panting heavily. He looked at me a bit surprised where I stood dressed, and with makeup on, he probably expected me to have crawled down in bed again.

“Hey, where are you going? It’s just nine o’clock?”

“I must fix it for dinner tonight,” I said with a little secret smile. Eric looked at me with a broad smile.

“Yeah?” He dried his face with the edge of his t-shirt so I could see his abs. He didn't do it on purpose, but I couldn't stop myself from staring.

“Mm,” I looked up at him, distracted by his body. He nodded a little.

“Do you want help? I just need to shower,” he said in that sweet way he always did. I didn't want to think it, but I did; I could understand why he was Lotti's favorite son.

“I can handle it.”

“Okay, but call otherwise.”

I nodded with a little smile. I walked up to him to touch his lips with mine again and let the scent of his sweat engulf me. I loved his smell, even his sweat, and felt the butterflies in my belly get intoxicated by it. He could drive me crazy without even trying.

×××

“Okay, I need your help!” I said on the phone, panting loudly. It had become far too heavy, with wine bottles and flour and other heavy items. With my bad shoulders, I hadn't succeeded in carrying it for so long.

“Of course, baby. Did you take the regular way?” He said it sweetly, and I could hear him getting ready in the background.

“Yeah, I'm by that Chinese restaurant.”

“Okay, I'm coming as fast as I can.”

Even if Eric could overthink what others thought about him, he could also do things that made people react. His impulses were not always the best, and this time it had made him go out without a shirt. I saw people looking at him when he came walking with long strides. He had a pair of washed-out black Adidas sweatpants and high-top Vans in the same color. His skin was still shiny from sweat, and his hair stood in all directions.

“Where is your shirt?” I said with a smirk while an older lady stared at his badly done tattoos.

“I was working out, and it was too hot to put one on… Didn't expect people would react to it…” He looked around a little anxiously but lowered his eyes to the shopping bags to be able to ignore people's judging eyes.

“Why did you shop so much?”

“I'm going to make a chocolate cake!” I said happily and made him look up at me with a smile.

“You know I don't eat such things,” he said teasingly.

“Mhm, I'm going to force you. You need some chocolate in your life.” He laughed and stood up, moving closer to me so I could press my body against his. I could feel he didn't have any underwear on but that I had registered already; it was hard to hide for him. He kissed me deeply, and just like he usually did, I also forgot the people around us and made out erotically in the middle of the street with him. I touched his sweaty body with deep desire and even thought about being mean by dragging my hand over his crotch.

“Della?” I heard Demi say next to us, and for a moment I thought I had just imagined it until she said my name again. Eric released my lips with a smack, and the both of us looked at my sister and her two daughters instead. Demi just looked at Eric up and down. His clammy skin, the awful tattoos, and his sweaty hair. His sweatpants sat way too low, and the bulge in them was exposed way too much. God. God. Oh god. Why now?

“Hey, hey. I'm, I'm Eric,” he said nervously and put out a hand towards Demi, a hand she didn't take, instead, she looked at me.

“I think we should continue to our brunch with some friends,” she said and looked at me with disappointment in her eyes. Her daughters stared at Eric like he was a part of the circus, and in his discomfort, he scratched the back of his head and at the same time exposed the dark hair in his armpit. Demi gave him a fast look and then a pointed gaze at me. In the corner of my eyes, I could see that Eric noticed her judging eyes, and he lowered his gaze, starting to move around the bags like he searched for the handles. I looked at Demi hurt, but she didn't seem to care.

“We should go now. Bye,” said she and steered her daughters forward.

“Bye…” I said lowly but cared more about my boyfriend at that moment. I didn't even want to think about the awful anxiety my sister must have given him.

We walked in silence home, Eric with a low gaze. I more or less just watched him. I could feel his anxiety scream and knew he now felt everyone else's judging looks too.

“Is it okay if I just take a smoke?” He said when we came in through the door. Odin stood close to him, and Eric caressed his ear lovingly.

“Yeah, of course.”

He took the first best jacket he could find, his long coat, and then jumped out from the window, out to the roof. I knew now he had the roof to a lower part of the building just outside of the window, and he walked out to the edge and sat down with his legs hanging down the ledge of the five-story house. I hated when he did that. It scared me looking at him sitting so close to his death. I wondered if he thought about suicide when he sat there or if he just fantasized about needles. I understood he had done stupid things in life to silence the demon from his past, but by doing that he had new demons. He wanted life to change, but every time he felt mistreated, he took that as a sign he would always be the same guy. I looked at him sitting on the edge, dressed in black, with Crow sitting not far from him. Once again, he looked like something from a dream, and I couldn't stop myself from thinking that maybe there was something strange with him. Odin whined next to me, obviously missing his daddy, and I patted him comfortingly. Eric's anxiety affected us all, and I knew I would do everything to make it go away.

×××

I didn't make a chocolate cake; it wasn't the right moment, but I made my stew, and he ate with appetite, but he was much more quiet. He was still as polite and thanked me for a lovely dinner, but other than that, he seemed to just have his own thoughts as company. I was so angry at Demi and sent her several angry messages about how awful she had treated him, but she didn't even answer. He lay on top of the bed with Odin next to him. His speaker played Emma Ruth Rundle, and between his lips was a joint. I stood and looked at him in silence. This was the worst part of being with him. He should have probably been with a girl more like him, not a middle class girl with a perfect balayage.

I crawled up next to him and laid my cheek on his naked chest. He had showered now and just had on sweatpants now too, another pair of black ones but with a red calligraphy text along one of the legs.

“I'm sorry about my sister… It's she who is awful. She judges everyone so hard.”

It wasn't really true; I had just noticed it when it came to addicts and criminals. Eric just nodded a little and took a deep toke. I looked at him and the joint between his tattooed fingers. I know it wasn't good that he treated his anxiety with another drug, but I didn't dare to tell him that; maybe he would do something even more stupid then. With weed, I know where I had him.

“I'm sorry…” I said again and snuggled into his neck. Eric smiled calmly and looked at me with heavy eyes.

“It's okay…” He patted my cheek softly but then leaned back against the pillow again and took one more drag. I didn't really trust his words and felt a worry spread in me. I couldn't go back to ignorant, narcissistic men after being with a guy like Eric. I looked at him and dragged my hand over his chest and down over his stomach. He was so perfect. I looked at his face when I dragged the palm of my hand over his crotch. I succeeded in making him breathe even deeper, and he smirked a little when he started to grow under my hand. With a bit of help from him, I pulled down the sweatpants, so he lay completely naked in front of me. I didn't care that he had weird tattoos, I just saw him. That wonderful soul and his amazing body. I crawled down between his legs and looked at his cock closely. It was so beautiful, and I saw it as a pleasure to take him in my mouth. He moaned deeply when I deep throated him at once, and I felt his hand push my head down a bit deeper. He was braver when he smoked, as I've noticed before, and soon he fucked my mouth deeply. He stopped when he heard me being in some sort of distress, but when I took him again, he continued. He grunted loudly, and when he came, he did it without warning. It wasn't on purpose, more that it came so suddenly he wasn't even prepared for it, but I drank his cum like it was the wine from the holy grail and licked my lips so nothing would go to waste.

×××

I thought the weed and the blowjob would be enough. I thought I could push away the childhood demons I had forced him to talk about, and I thought it would make my sister's judging eyes mean nothing, but I was wrong. I had fallen asleep on his chest after we had made out some after I had gone down on him. He had fallen asleep quite fast, but now I could hear that he was awake. He didn't lay in bed, and I looked towards the window to see if he had a nightly visit from Crow again, but instead I saw him sitting on the couch, and I felt a hard stab in my sternum. He sat with his belt tied around his arm, tightening it harder and harder around his upper arm. I could hear him moan between his sobs. I tried to see if he had a syringe, but he didn't; he just sat and tightened the belt like he had one. I cried silently and laid my hands over my mouth so he wouldn't hear my sobs, even if I believed he was too far gone in his anxiety to hear. He continued for a while, but it clearly wasn't enough, and I saw him remove the belt from his arm to his neck. When he started to tighten the belt and I understood what he was doing, I acted on impulse.

“No, no, no, no, no!” I screamed through my tears, jumped up from bed, and harshly pulled off the belt that had started to block his breathing. Eric coughed through his anxious breathing, and I took his face in my hands.

“Why are you doing this?? Why are you doing this??” I screamed but didn't get an answer; he just cried hysterically. I hugged him hard against my chest, and after a few minutes of lying there, he had started to breathe in the same rhythm as my heart. The heart he owned. I led him to bed and let him crawl close to me under the covers, and I breathed as calmly as I could to help him breathe the same way. It took some time before he fell asleep, but when he did, he slept hard and laid heavy against me. While he was sleeping, I lifted the cover to look at his arm, where a deep imprint of the belt could be seen; it would probably become bruised. Then I looked at his neck carefully and could see marks even there—marks I recognized from one of the pictures. This was nothing new for him. He had self-harmed for more than half of his life. I looked at his sleeping face. I would do anything to heal him, just like Lotti and Eric had, the question was if I could.

×××

We lay close together with our foreheads against each other and breathed in each other's air. We hadn't talked yet that day, but there wasn't much to say either. I wouldn't pressure him to talk; it wouldn't lead to anything good. The important thing was that he wanted to be with me and now seemed okay. I dragged my fingertips through his hair, feeling the different length through my fingers.

“I love you,” he whispered and looked me deep in my eyes. His eyes were full of love, even if they looked exhausted.

“I love you too. Maybe even, most in the entire world,” I said and dragged my nails down over his neck. Eric smiled a little blushy but then looked down.

“I know you must go home today, but… Can't you stay here with me? One more night? I don't want to be alone…” He whispered in shame.

I looked at the place on his upper arm where a bruise started to form, and I nodded without thinking more than that Eric needed me.

“Of course. Of course, baby.”

He looked at me with big, thankful eyes and then kissed my lips innocently.

When he took Odin on his morning walk, I prepared myself to call Desiree and tell her Eric had become sick and I needed to care for him. It wasn't often a grown man needed to get care at home, so I prepared myself for questions. I also had mixed feelings about letting Eric go out with Odin. Just a few hours ago I had seen him strangle himself with a belt, and it didn't feel safe at all to leave him alone, but I couldn't decide that, and I knew Odin was good for him.

I took a deep breath to talk to Desiree but didn't get the response I had thought. She gave me a fast “okay” because she wanted to get to another part of the conversation.

“Demi said she had met you two out,” she said, nosily. “You should hear how she described him!” She said it with a laugh. I didn't say anything because I expected Desiree to be like Demi, but…

"God, is she a hundred years old? Who doesn’t have tattoos these days? Even on the face! Shit, what an old hag she is!” She joked with a laugh, so I laughed too, with relief.

“Can't you bring him here? We want to meet him! You haven't had a dude in ages!” I laughed a little unsure until I thought about what she had said.

“‘We’?”

“Yes! All of us at the salon. Demi said he has an interesting haircut too!”

I didn't really hear what she said in the end because I just thought about Robin. My best friend. He didn't feel like my best friend anymore after hearing Eric talk about him. It was strange, but Eric had so quickly become the most important person in my life, and anyone who hurt him also hurt me. But I wanted Eric to meet the girls. Even if he wasn't what people expected, I was proud of him; people just needed to give him a chance. He was a dream; so sweet, caring, and trustworthy. Silly and playful. If they gave him an honest chance, like it sounded like they would, they would see he was the right guy for me. I got an idea that maybe wouldn't work at all, but it felt like I needed to try. I wanted to have a real relationship with Eric, and I wanted him to meet my friends and family.

“Halloween maybe?”

I knew Robin would go away then, to celebrate with other friends.

“That's perfect! Meeting your spooky boyfriend on halloween!” Said she with a giggle. I laughed too, even if I was nervous as hell. It was just in two weeks, and I hoped Eric would be ready for that.

#bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard #fan fiction #writing #story #bill skarsgård writing #bill skarsgård fanfiction #fiction #eric #the crow #2024

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hux-and-gay · 2 months ago

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The Domhnall House

master post

(I typically call it the main house)

I don’t rly know how to build in sims nor did I particularly want to take the time so I moved my sims into the Cypress Terrace located in Willow Creek

I then edited the layout and customized the bedrooms to fit the characters. I left the common rooms untouched

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Hux’s Bedroom

3rd Floor Master Suite

his room has sense been edited to have space ship style windows.

As you can see his room is primarily black with pops of color in white gray red and an occasional blue, meant to resemble the interior of a first order ship as well as his own style. Everything is very classy, clean and modern looking aside from the more Victorian style furniture to add to the overall expensive feel of the room. There is also a tactical map above his desk again to play into the sci-fi theme, and his computer chair is meant to represent a throne which he very much deserves. he also has a large bathroom with a tub because I believe he deserves a bath and would enjoy them. He also has a coffee maker in his room for easy access. He will abuse it. And of course, the famed ice blue couch.

——————————————————————————————

Tim’s Bedroom:

3rd floor. Across the hall from Hux

His is just pretty basic. I didn’t really know what to put in his other than a clock and a wardrobe that would be big enough for him to stand in. So that is pretty much all I did. His room has since been made smaller. If anyone has any ideas of what to add to his room, please let me know.

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Bill’s Room

Second Floor

his room was one that I added entirely to the layout. I am aware that Bill is probably the Weasley that could most pass as a Muggle, so his room probably wouldn’t look as much like it was from the wizard world, but I just really wanted to give it that Harry Potter feel so I leaned into that. I also got a lot of Harry Potter custom content for making this room. I decided on Red because Bill is a Gryffindor though I could see him liking a deep blue or purple. I tried to make it look as if it was a part of the burrow. He has a nice antique desk where he can work on his curse breaking, a broom over by his bed, a snitch on the table, a chocolate frog on his drawers, a Gryffindor pendant on his wall, amongst many other Harry Potter Easter eggs, including Ron Weasley’s bed. I know that doesn’t make much sense because he’s not Ron but it fit the vibes and who is to say Ron’s bed wasn’t hand me down. he also has a bi flag on the wall because I headcanon him as bi, he has a dragon plushy because he rides one in deathly hallows and his brother Charlie works with them, and I was actually able to get the Weasley family photo as CC so you can see that on the top of his dresser.

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Stensland and Techie’s Room

second floor across the hall from Bill

starting off with Stensland‘s portion of the room. I wanted to make it look well, lived in kind of eclectic and retro. he has a couple weird things scattered around like the gnome on the flamingo that I just think gives Stensland vibes. There’s also some clothes on the floor because let’s be real it Stensland. and he has his vintage TV so he can watch Dawson’s Creek, as well as a jukebox so that he can do all of the dancing that he wants. My friend also suggested getting glass Bongs as CC so I did and they apparently came with other weed related things hence the weed pillow by his couch.

Then we have Techie’s corner which they were apparently sleeping in when I took this photo. I kept everything quite yellow to fit their color scheme even if they probably did not have much of a choice in wearing yellow but I digress. They also have plenty of electronics and a tactical map, and of course, cute fairy lights, and a little projector of a planet, because it’s both pretty and fits in with the sci-fi tech vibes, and I think they would like a nightlight like that to help them fall asleep. Their corner is quite small because I feel they would feel safer in a more confined space.

for their bathroom I tried to combine their styles by making it look retro, but also sci-fi esc, obviously continuing the pops of yellow as it’s next to Techie’s corner. I also made sure there was a large bath. because Techie deserved a nice bath. ——————————————————————————————

Thomas Mcgregor’s Room

First floor suite

Thomas kind of has his own little apartment. I tried to make everything look very cottage core, and like it was part of an older home to try and fit the vibes of the McGregor house from the movie and also just the vibes of Peter rabbit in general. You enter his room from the kitchen and there is a little mudroom that leads to the bathroom, his bedroom, and out into the garden. Which I thought was perfect for him. I did not change the layout of this bedroom. I made sure to include lots of nature related things, especially rabbits obviously. Even though he has a love-hate relationship with those. I also gave him an easel and canvases. I know that was Bea’s thing but it’s for the vibes. He also has a lot of children’s toys in his room because he wants to start his own toy store. And a telescope because he likes birdwatching and there weren’t binoculars so that was the next best thing. The doors on the wall next to the telescope lead out to the outdoor pool. He also has a punching bag because of the boxing scene in the second Peter rabbit movie. I also later got custom content of a bunch of vegetables, and I didn’t even know that so I now have vegetables littered around his room. But overall, everything is pretty neat and in place because we know Thomas would lose his mind otherwise.

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Ash’s Room

the basement

I wanted to add an attic to the house because of something that happens in the episode that I won’t spoil, but it wouldn’t let me so if there’s a way, I couldn’t figure out how to do it. So instead, I added a basement because that seemed close enough. I tried to make it look pretty dingy and old looking. I didn’t really include much personalization because he’s an android. But I did put a robot head on the table to pay homage to that.

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Thomas Burberry’s house

his house is still on the property so it’s still considered part of this building even though it’s separate. I did this partially because the house was getting crowded and also to make a joke of how little we know about Thomas Burberry because he’s a character from an ad so I separated him from the rest of the characters. this is the first ever building I built from scratch on Sims so I did not know what I was doing. I didn’t even leave enough room for a bathroom so there’s like a separate outhouse type thing behind it.

I tried to make it look like it was part of the 1800s very industrial and very elegant with dark colors to fit the vibes of both the add And the time period. I included things like the ship in the bottle and folded piles of clothes because based on the ad, it seemed like this guy was doing some thing with trying to make waterproof clothing for the Antarctica or something? I could be wildly wrong. I have not researched the actual Thomas Burberry. But I think everyone will agree when I say that that ad should’ve been an actual movie.

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@dragonflies-draw-flame

@blackberry-command-cap

@lavendergarnet

@huxkisser

@rommonoch

@misbon-god-of-mischief

@fizzydreamz

@sariastrategos

@saint-baph

@fives-ren

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allthewayout · 2 months ago

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An Opaque, Instant Disunion of the Self

[1/14/2025]

A dream—a complete fabrication of the mind, based likely on some prior events, of which I have no recollection—is my earliest memory. I am going to take my time to describe the scene and contextualize a few things, but the event itself was akin to a snapshot of time, a single frame of a video, there and gone before the conscious mind could register it. And yet, it lives etched into my memory, like some thousand year old picture on the wall of a cave. I could ponder what it means, or if it’s even an accurate memory, though that latter question is a curious one. Is a dream created in REM sleep or is it created by its recollection? I don’t know the answer to this, so it should be made clear that even I doubt the legitimacy of this memory, but it is nonetheless what I would count as my first lucid moment.

The front room, dining room, whatever you would want to call it, was always a curious part of my childhood home. It had large bay windows, cabinets of china and other tchotchkes, wood carvings of us kids made by my grandmother, and it was the host of a Christmas tree from the day after Thanksgiving to when we went back to school in early January. It is, by far, the biggest room in that house, and it was the only one that could regurgitate a meaningful echo upon swallowing the sounds of feet slipping across its wooden floor, soccer balls bouncing off baseboards, or an argument between life partners. But the thing that is most relevant to my memory is its color: the desaturated green, too verdant to be seafoam but too blue to be lime or olive. It stood out from the gray and beige of the hallways and bedrooms, but not to the point where it was gaudy or unwelcome. The majority of the house was root and stem, but that room was its flower.

This is the bed on which my memory lies, the soft green walls surrounding a figure standing inches from them. It’s me. Or at least, it’s the body of me. I have no firm opinions on what makes the self. But I know that at that moment, mind and body were as distinct as could be. So while the figure resembled me, I’m going to continue to refer to it merely as “the figure” to avoid confusion as to my perspective. I am at this point disembodied and viewing the figure head on. It was short, as one would expect a child to be, and its hair was strawberry blond. A pale, skin and bone thing with freckles littered across its face. It was uniformed. I went to a Catholic middle school—an education that has left me with a lot of disdain for religiosity and the ordered world, the uniformed world—and any child at Saint Benedict’s Cathedral School above pre-K was required to paint themselves with the same limited palette. Khakis, tan or navy, and a polo that could be dark blue or light blue. The shirts were tucked, and never untucked without creating controversy. And you couldn’t forget the belt: the piece which held that ill-fitting wardrobe together.

What makes this detail interesting is that I was only in preschool when I had this dream, so I wasn’t required to wear a uniform. Why I imagined my body in this dress, I have no idea, but this why isn’t so important. I think the reason this memory sticks with me to this day is that it was so unsettling. The particular detail that makes it stick for me, that I have been intentionally concealing up until this point, is the figure’s eyes.

Vacant, ghostly white eyes stared at my nothingness with an indeterminate disposition. No pupil or iris, simply the whole of the pale sclera, was fixed in the direction of my amorphous being. It is all of this—the totality of the setting, the contextual oddities, and the bottomless pit of fear at seeing my own death mask—in an instant.

It is that singularity of time that makes me doubt myself when trying to accurately represent this memory. How can I be so sure that I haven’t constructed this image by filling in the blanks, creating a Mad Libs distortion of my own experience? Even if it is purely a post hoc construction, I feel it would carry the same weight as if I were able to recount it perfectly, knowing fully each infinitesimally small detail; it was only a dream, it didn’t “happen”. Yet it’s this dream that comes to me during those sleepless nights, when the clock beams a shamefully low number before its colon; when all sound, once condensed onto the midnight mirror, begins to evaporate. It is that thing which stares back at me.

#writing #prose

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elspethdekarios · 1 year ago

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Faerûnian 29 Day Writing Challenge: Day 1

Link if you haven't seen it!

Alright folks - this is my first time sharing any of the fic I've written so please be nice to me 🥲

I will probably alternate between the SFW and NSFW prompts--this one is SFW!

Feb 1. What was your tav doing when they were abducted?

“Long day?”

Hera sat in their shared living space with a book in her lap when Elspeth rushed through the door, already starting to peel off the layers of her healer’s uniform.

“Father’s birthday,” Elspeth said from her room as she searched her wardrobe for the two dresses she had considered for the occasion. “Leon will be there.”

Hera rolled her eyes from where she stood in the doorway, her rich, tan skin illuminated by the sunlight coming in through the window. Elspeth laid the two dresses on the bed. The first was practical–sage green and floor-length with a cream colored sash draping from the waist. The second dress was one that El had only worn once before–for a staff dinner with the headmaster of the Academy–before Leon led her up to his room and slipped it off of her. That dress… he had whispered in her ear as he kissed her neck. Hera’s voice snapped Elspeth out of her daydream.

“The blue silk,” she said. “Make him jealous.”

“I broke up with him,” El reminded her.

“Still,” Hera shrugged. “He’s the one who let things fizzle out. Show him what he’s missing.”

After pulling the dress on and asking Hera for help with the tie in the back, Elspeth examined herself in the mirror. Hera was right. This was definitely the dress to wear when seeing an ex-lover. The light blue fabric ruched perfectly across her body, hitched up slightly on one side to reveal a hint of leg, built-in corset tied to accentuate her waist, and thin straps holding up a loose, square neckline. She grabbed a white shawl embroidered with silver leaves to throw over her shoulders.

“Perfect,” Hera said as Elspeth headed towards the door, stopping to do a little twirl in front of her friend. “Good luck. Hope you can leave early.”

“You know I will.” El threw a delicate, cross-body purse over her head and walked out the door.

The Vaidelark House sat on one of the main streets of the Upper City. Its front doors were wide open, allowing her parents’ distinguished guests to mingle inside and out as they pleased. Elspeth felt a ping of anxiety in her chest as she approached. She wasn’t nervous about seeing Leon–she had moved on rather quickly, if she was being honest with herself. He drifted away so gradually that there wasn’t much left to mourn once she ended things. No, this was a feeling of dread. Dreading seeing her parents and their ever-disapproving faces. Dreading seeing her sister. Dreading making her way through the crowd, nodding politely as the guests whispered under their breath once she was out of earshot.

A shame, really, they would say.

If only she could have turned out like her sister.

She was much more pleasant to be around when she was dating that paladin boy.

Her parents highly approved of Leon from the moment they met him. Proud, disciplined, a smooth talker. El didn’t even mind her parents very much when she brought Leon with her. They were nicer to her. Approved of her being with someone so mighty and honorable and eager to rise in the ranks of Baldur’s Gate. When she broke things off with him, she once again took on the role of rebellious daughter, squandering her status by working as a healer and having no desire to participate in the noble society in which she was raised. Obstinate, her parents often called her. The dread in her stomach reminded her of why she hadn’t been to visit in at least two months, if not more. She took a deep breath as she approached the front doors.

“Good to see you, Lady Elspeth,” said a waiter in the foyer, holding a plate of hors d'oeuvres.

“Hello, Van,” she replied, taking a giant shrimp from his tray. “Lovely to see you, as well. Is Ms. Tessie around?”

“Yes, my lady. She’s in the kitchen–quite busy, but she was hoping you would attend. She would love to see you.”

“Many thanks,” she nodded. “I think I’ll go pop my head in.”

The kitchen smelled of roast chicken, freshly baked bread, buttered carrots, and berry compote, somehow all at the same time without clashing. Waiters rushed around the room–plating food, dropping off empty trays, refilling wine decanters–and a red-haired halfling woman stood in front of the stove, directing the cooks and waiters while concentrating on an enchanted spoon and mixing bowl in front of her.

“Take that sauce off the heat. One second too long and it’s no good. Have the shrimp gone out?–good–what about the rolls? Don’t let them get cold like last time–”

“Need any help?”

Some of the newer staff, those who started after Elspeth moved out of the house, bowed their heads and busied themselves with the tasks they were already busy with. The ones who knew her, though, greeted her with smiles.

“Lady Elspeth!” one of them said. “Didn’t expect to see you down here.”

“Oh, if it isn’t my favorite Vaidelark,” Tessie said, turning from her station at the stove.

“Don’t let the old crows hear you say that,” El joked as she lowered herself to hug her.

“You know I don’t.” Elspeth stood, and Ms. Tessie’s laugh lines deepened as she beamed up at her. “I’m so glad you came, Ellie. And you still wear that old thing I gave you years ago!”

El toyed with the twisting, silver ring on her finger. “Of course I do.”

“I have to get back to work, sweet girl, but do come down and chat later, will you?”

“I would love to. Depends on how quickly I’m made to feel unwelcome.” She flashed a playful smile, knowing Tessie would understand. But the halfling’s face turned grim and apologetic.

“Hold firm, Ellie,” she said. “No matter what happens out there.”

Elspeth raised an eyebrow.

“What are you saying?”

Tessie only gave her a sad smile before a clang of metal from a dropped tray made her turn her head, rushing to help the clumsy server who dropped it.

“Oh, dear–you’ve got to work on your balance! Ellie–” she looked over her shoulder. “I love you, sweet girl.”

“Love you, Tessie,” she said, apprehensively returning to the foyer.

The guests crowded the halls, gowns and robes glittering with refracted light from the chandelier. Elspeth mingled her way through, greeting the important people she had always been expected to greet, engaging in small talk with others, and taking particular satisfaction in smiling wide at those who averted their eyes as she passed by. After the scandal, most of her family’s social circle chose to pretend that she never existed–not that she was ever really involved in their society anyway. But dating Leon, an important patriar’s son, seemed to be almost enough to make everyone forget about the time she gambled away the Vaidelark heirloom jewels during a drunken night of debauchery. Once their relationship ended… well, it was just another mark against her in the eyes of nobility.

In the drawing room, she found her parents obscured by a group of attendees, but when her mother’s eyes met her own, the lady of the house politely found a way to end the conversation so Elspeth could approach without reminding the public that Lord and Lady Vaidelark had a wayward daughter. Only when the guests walked away did she notice her sister standing with them.

“Elspeth,” Ariadne greeted her with unnatural enthusiasm. “I didn’t think you would come.”

“I always attend Father’s birthday parties.” She kissed her father on the cheek and wished him a happy birthday. He was certainly showing his age now, especially compared to her mother’s youthful 200-and-something elf years.

“Thank you, Elspeth,” he said, looking everywhere in the room except at her. His aversion made her anxious. He was the more reasonable parent, if still aloof, but his demeanor along with Tessie’s comment made Elspeth wonder what in the hells was going on.

Her mother greeted her with a stern nod. That was normal, at least.

Fortunately, a man’s gleeful voice interrupted the awkward silence.

Unfortunately, that man was Leon.

“Here, darling, I’ve gotten you a refill,” he said, walking right past El. He handed Ariadne a silver goblet and wrapped an arm around her waist. When he noticed his surroundings, his eyes widened and the color drained from his face.

“El…”

Her brow furrowed in confusion because surely Leon was not dating her sister, and surely she was simply imagining his hand resting on her hip, or misinterpreting the situation completely. No, of course he wouldn’t be with Ariadne–that was absurd. Simply outrageous.

Her sister tilted her head up and kissed him. His eyes did not leave Elspeth’s.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said. “But can someone tell me what the fuck is happening?”

“Watch your language,” her mother spat at her.

“No offense, Mother, but I could not care less about my language in this situation.”

“Oh, I was going to wait to tell you,” Ariadne boasted. “After all, I didn’t expect you to be here. But I suppose the cat’s out of the bag now. Leon and I are engaged!”

She thrust out her hand to show off a huge, glittering sapphire surrounded by a halo of tiny diamonds.

Elspeth’s breath caught in her throat. A chill ran through her veins, but her pulse quickened as heat rose in her chest. The ambient chatter of the room was replaced with a low thrum that sounded like she was suddenly underwater. The edges of the room blurred, guests fading into nonexistence as the four people in front of her, the four people who were supposed to love her, seared themselves into her vision, her ire and repulsion and hatred no longer able to be contained.

“You vile bitch,” she snarled.

“El, let me explain–”

“No,” she snapped her head towards Leon. “Don’t bother wasting your breath. You’re all pathetic people–especially you–” she pointed at Ariadne. “The golden child who gets everything she wants–who lives to make me fucking miserable!” She knew she was making a scene, but she didn’t care. Her reputation with these people was already in the gutter.

“Enjoy the sloppy seconds. You deserve each other,” El said before turning away, pushing her way through the drawing room. She needed to get out.

“Ellie! Wait!” Miss Tessie ran through the foyer after her, still wearing her stained apron from the kitchen.

El halted in front of the doors. A lump formed in her throat at the sound of Tessie’s voice. The one who always looked after her, who took her under her wing, who never treated her like she was inferior. First, she felt love and comfort. But then, remembering Tessie’s comment in the kitchen, she felt anger. Betrayal.

“You knew,” she snapped. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me?”

Tessie stuttered, words failing to provide an explanation. El could see the apologetic look in her eyes, but her rage was too consuming for her to care. Her parents, Ariadne, and Leon had gathered behind Tessie, a blur of faces behind them, all staring.

“I never want to see any of you again,” Elspeth cried before storming out of the house and into the twilight.

The people and buildings on the street were indistinct, dark shapes through the tears that she couldn’t get to stop welling up in her eyes. She had no regrets about what she said to her family or Leon, but the moment she realized her parting words were also directed at Tessie, she wished she could catch them midair and pull them back into her mouth. This regret was stronger than any she had ever felt– surpassing even her fuck-up with the heirloom jewels. She was sobbing, her feet aching from the cobblestone and a long day at work that felt like a lifetime ago. She could hear music from a nearby pub, and laughter from their patrons, and gods, how she envied them. Laughter would come again, she knew, but not right now. Right now she wanted to let herself be miserable. She deserved it. Healing would come later.

Elspeth ducked into a familiar alleyway to steady herself before she continued her route home. Deep breaths, she told herself. In - out - in - out. It was no use–each time she was able to get herself to calm down, another wave of sobs started barreling out of her. She sank down the wall and let them come.

A loud crash brought her attention back to the main street. She listened for a moment, only hearing a distant rumble. Odd, but this was the city, and weird things happened all the time. It must be some wizard showing off, or a sorcerer’s elemental getting out of control, she thought. Until she heard a blood-curdling scream.

More screaming followed, and she got to her feet to look around the corner. People were fleeing down the street, rubble and debris in the air behind them. The cloud of dust was too thick to see the cause, but it was getting closer now. Suddenly, the evening sky began to darken overhead, and she saw it: a giant floating ship made of sinew and cartilage. Tentacles hung from its undercarriage, swimming through the air like a massive, demented octopus. A nautiloid.

She didn’t even have time to run.

#BG3FicFeb #my writing #bg3ficfeb #elspeth

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anthrofreshtodeath · 2 years ago

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P FKN R Intro

I'm at work, sort of working, sort of tinkering with some writing stuff at lunch, especially the beginning of P FKN R in hopes that I might manufacture some inspiration. Too soon to tell, but maybe if I share it here that will spur me on some more. Here we go!

___

Jamaica Plain’s cars were jammed onto its narrow streets, effectuating a one-way rule by default; those that did crawl through broadcasted an amalgam of sounds into the Latin Quarter: Spanish talk radio, classic rock, and of course, full and knocking reggaetón beats.

Jamaica Plain’s three-story homes groaned as they expanded at high noon, stacked and running from one end of Chestnut Avenue to the other, one of those narrow streets in the time-honored New England style. In another facet of that tradition, its air rippled in a summer scorcher, wafting smells over from La Isla café on the corner: the strong oil-sweet of fried plantains and roasted pork, the kind Jane Rizzoli liked to order with a side of rice when she sat down at one of their vinyl-topped, worn-in, peach-colored tables.

JP pulsated at lunch time.

Jane’s stomach gurgled when she remembered her last meal: a chugged cup of coffee at the marble counter in the Beacon Hill home of the woman kneeling over the body they’d been called to investigate. The image of it was made more grotesque by the contrast of her Aeron skirt and Bottega Veneta heels with the contorted limbs of the man on the walkup in broad daylight.

Jane still liked it, Maura Isles’ high-class wardrobe and the attitude it brought to neighborhoods like this, neighborhoods like her own. That attitude, the I’m the hottest in the room chest-beating, shoulder-brushing mindset, matched what Jane always knew about Boston’s real cultural pockets. The ones with subsidized housing and community gardens and spots like La Isla. “Watcha got for me?” Jane said by way of greeting.

Maura looked up, her long, highlighted hair swishing to the other shoulder when she shook it out. Her green eyes shimmered and she smirked when Jane winked. “It’s nice to see you, too.”

“Saw ya like thirty minutes ago,” said Jane. “And if we hurry this up, cut the pleasantries, I can take you right on over to that restaurant and introduce you to the best lunch you’ll ever eat in JP.” She pointed to the wide-open window view of the restaurant just a football field away.

“Hmm,” Maura replied, “I could be persuaded, I suppose. Penetrating wounds to the chest and abdomen, surrounding shell casings would indicate he was shot.”

Jane pursed her lips and smiled at the same time. She crossed her nitrile-gloved hands over her hips and shrugged under her blazer for some relief from the beads of sweat rolling down her back. She should not have worn black in late June. “You don’t say,” she teased. But then, quickly back to business, she pointed to the decedent’s broken ankle, distorted and impossibly angled toward midline. “That from this fall?” She asked.

Maura stood, narrowed her brows at Jane’s narrowed brow. “Can’t say right now,” she answered. “But these steps are narrow and uneven. It’s possible.”

“Even if it isn’t, he wa’n’t goin’ very far,” Jane commented. She clenched her jaw, and her masseter muscle clicked in investigatory concentration. “What’s on his hand?”

“Burns,” Maura said. They shared a look, one that only experience, only dozens and dozens of murders, could engender. A car door slammed and footsteps approached as they communicated about the man on the ground without words.

Maura never went to JP unless there was work to be done, and Jane? Jane really only traveled out this way for murder anymore, which was a damn shame because the food was good, and so was the company - even if that company happened to be related to the asshole walking up to them now. “Hey oh - the hell are you doin’ at my crime scene?” barked Jane.

Rafael Martinez, lieutenant of the Drug Control Unit.

Tall, dark-skinned, in a baby blue v-neck stretched against his defined chest, with a Boricua jawline that showcased his trimmed beard like art. He ran his hand over his shaved head once, and licked his lips on his way to the woman shouting at him. “I could ask you the same thing, Rizzoli,” he said through a wicked smile, all white teeth and innate pride. Just as he held out his arms to really rub in his obtusity, a lowered, electric green and black Impreza roared past them, changing Martinez’s mirth to ire, now directed entirely to the street. “Ey!” he shouted, the car already long gone. Then he stepped onto the sidewalk and dusted his dark, slim fit jeans. “Swear to god if one more lowrider tries to run me off the road, I’m outta this city.”

Jane scoffed. “You already were outta this city, remember? Almost a decade. They ain’t got those in New York, Mr. Hot Shot?”

Martinez stared at her, awed by both her attitude and her mouth, until he shook his head of its disbelief. Maura smiled at him as if to commiserate, and held her medical bag in front of her as she faced him. “Not that we’re not happy to have you-”

“We’re not,” Jane interrupted.

Maura glared with a good-natured, nonverbal shut up that worked, at least for the moment. “Like I said - not that we’re not happy to have you, but a federal task force in New York City with the chance for so much more? What brings you back to Boston?”

“Homesick, I guess, doc,” Martinez replied with a cheeky grin. Maura nodded and out of habit, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Jane was unmoved by his obfuscation and his easy Boston-Latin accent. “Bullshit,” she said, “you live for that. You live for the thrill. And the juice.”

Rafael shrugged. “Whatchu want me to say, Rizzoli?” he overtrilled the r of her surname on purpose, in the way that both Italians and Puerto Ricans do. “Me voy a caballo y vengo a pie, eh? Didn’t turn out, no matter how bad I wanted it. When you come from the neighborhoods that Paddy Doyle runs, the Bureau gets certain ideas about where your loyalties are. Especially if you BPD.”

Maura bowed her head in embarrassment, and Jane actually twitched her nose at that one. A droplet of perspiration ran down it, a sign that she’d been in the sun too long. “Well that sucks. Sorry. Still don’t answer why you’re here, steppin’ all over my toes.”

“That,” he started again, pointing to the victim sprawled on the porch of the house they surrounded, “is one of the main earners of the Kill Shot Gang. New crew muscling their way into JP. And I…” he drew out the pronoun for emphasis, “needa find out who did it. I already got your bro out there runnin’ ops for me.” He threw his head in the direction of the strip mall at the intersection of Chestnut and Weaver, a block that saw a lot of traffic. Literal and metaphorical.

“You got an Italian infiltrating the Latin drug trade? Sounds like all you’re doin’ is lookin’ for ways to get him killed,” growled Jane. She marched her long body toward him, her posture designed for intimidation.

Martinez laughed. “Would you calm down? I know what I’m doing,” he told her, stepping into her aggression, opening his chest to it, bringing his face close to her hers. He smiled when she glared. “And other Rizzoli’s a grown man. Despite you and your ma’s best efforts.”

Just as Jane initiated her lunge, Maura caught it, her fingers wrapped firmly around Jane’s bicep. “Jane-”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Jane, body bridled for the moment, unfurled some biting words, “don’t think I don’t remember your mommy comin’ down the station with sack lunches for all of us.”

“Alright, alright, listen,” Martinez put up his hands when he acquiesced, because she had a point. “One: I don’t remember you complaining about all that food when it was put in front of you. Two: I will personally make sure that he stays safe. You got my word.”

Jane pulled out of Maura’s grip and sighed. Rafael’s deep and steady voice, when divorced from deceptive intent and real life experiences at his side, inspired faith. It made people want to believe. But Jane had been his partner for too long. She had been in his bed for too long. “Yeah, that’s my worry,” she grumbled quietly. She took stock of his eyes one last time, brown and expressive and alive, and let them give her that little jolt they had before all the history came seeping in.

He took stock right back, and the passion that had always burned in him shook her, passion for her that she could never reciprocate. She broke first, turning her head to Maura at her side - Maura, who had a pretty indulgent grin on her face. “It seems you have business,” Maura said, hand on Jane’s back. “I can take a rain check for lunch. Meet me for the autopsy?”

“Y-yeah,” Jane stuttered.

“But don’t wait up for her too long,” Martinez butted in. He winked at Maura, in a way that reminded her of Jane. “Because I’ve got a task force on KSG that I have a feeling Detective Rizzoli here is gonna want in on.”

Maura regarded him for a long time, without regard for the social rules on how long a person should stare, before she decided on a smile of her own. “I’m the Chief ME, lieutenant. I’ll wait for whomever I want, however long I want.” She winked back, clearly in mockery of his previous display, and then bid them her goodbyes.

Jane held in her laughter as Martinez withered under both the midday sun and Maura’s retort. “Man it’s hot. Let’s get this processed so we can get back to the ranch.”

#lauren writes rizzoli and isles fanfiction #P FKN R #this idea has been so great in my head but writing it has been bleh #idk I guess we'll see #also while dunkie's and lobster and the freedom trail are Boston #so is this - I try to infuse a little of it into everything I write in the city

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colleenmurphy · 1 year ago

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"I wouldn't want to impose on Mrs. Hill at this moment..."

The stammering breathy voice all but wailed from the well kept and tastefully decorated foyer of the large house the Hill family stayed in during the cooler months. It was as much a fortress as an oasis and equally a status symbol for it's owners, or rather, owner. Mrs. Mary Hill. Her husband, Hoyt, had insisted that everything be put into her name if something untimely or unseemly were to happen to him and she hadn't argued. Mr. Hill was out of town on another business trip and this pressing matter, the one with the breathy voice coming closer and closer to Mary's inner sanctuary, was named Francie Kinter. A barmaid and burlesque dancer that made a name for herself a social climber. She was a rather buxom blonde with loose lips and very little in the way of brains that posed a very real threat to family safety and to the business that built them and the town they called home.

"Mrs. Hill insists on seeing you, Miss. Kinter. It truly is of most importance."

With a knock a heartbeat went by an answer sounded from the cavernous bathroom fitted with the finest imported arabacasto oribico grey marble and gilt taps that looked like they were cast only once. Wolves or dogs heads. The finest details down to their fur and bared teeth sent a shiver down Francie's spine. A large vanity set back to the left towards a set of double doors leading into what could only be assumed was Mrs. Hill's wardrobe or bedroom suite. On the other directly across from the door where the housekeeper and Francie were standing sat a large luxuriously deep free standing soaking tub. The usual facilities, shower for rising and toilet with bidet were tucked away in a separate smaller closet looking area. Candles were the only light source in the room as the large windows overlooking the lush greenery of the backyard were covered with heavy dove grey blinds. The scent of burning wax, vanilla and roses filled the large space and crept closely to the skin of anyone in the room, almost as if it were too a living being. The humidity was horror on Francie's hair and she looked in vain back at the housekeeper who had already taken her post by the door awaiting instruction. The steam filled the room along with the scent of menthol and marijuana.

"Miss Minter, won't you have a seat?"

The cool educated slightly lilting voice of Mrs. Hill startled Francie even though it shouldn't have. It was as if she blinked and there Mrs. Hill was. Swallowing the lump forming in her throat Francie accepted the seat on a small tufted wingback chair made of crushed velvet and oak. Despite it's looks the little thing was exceptionally comfortable. Mrs. Hill was a different breed entirely than the women Francie had grown up with, smooth pale milk white skin that glowed, eyes an unnatural shade of blue green and waist length hair the color of coal made her an exotic breed around the town of Sloughbridge. Her elegant walk and educated way of speaking made some of the towns women loathe her on sight as she turned heads their husbands didn't like her because she could toe the line as good as any man and flash them a look that would stop their hearts. Her gilt hounds head faucet didn't drip as Francie's Mama's did. Watching as long slender hands reached for the cigarette holder containing Mrs. Hill's hand rolled cigarette. Transfixed onto what the slightly older woman was doing she watched as she drew the cigerette holder up and took a long composed drag, held it, and then exhaled slowly right in Francie's direction as she reclined in the hot water. The tub was deep enough that all Francie could see was a cloud of bubbles and the tops of Mrs. Hill's shoulders. The smell again heavily of roses wafted towards her in her chair and she all but gagged.

'Hello Mr. Hill.'

The sound of her own voice bounced off of the blonde woman's head a memory flashed in Francie's mind of all the times she'd greeted Mr. Hill. Flashing him her very best smile and jutting her chest out, trying her hardest to ensnare him as she had gotten Neil Lewman's attention, no matter that he had been married or Joe Rollings, she just wanted fun. He hadn't even given her the time of day just turned his head the other way and walked off. The last time he'd been into Hardinson's General Store she had flung herself off the dry goods ladder and fallen into him effectively trying to lock eyes with him. He hadn't even looked at her except his handsome chiseled jaw had set tight.

'Now I've got you.'

The humidity hit her first and she remembered where she was.

"I know exactly who and what you are, girl. It's in your best interest to step away from the tree you're barking up or some other bitch is liable to tear you to shreds."

In an instant Mrs. Hill's face was mere inches from Francie's as a tingling throbbing pain ran up the back of her head right where Mrs. Hill had grabbed her, the long painstakingly manicured crimson nails dug into her tender scalp as her eyes locked in on her.

"Do I make myself absolutely crystal clear, Miss Minter?"

A startled squeak and a tight nod as tears ran down Francie's cheeks.

"Y..y-es."

"Yes who?"

"Y-ye-ss..M-Mrs. Hh-Hill."

"Good. Gather yourself and please excuse me I've another meeting to attend to in about twenty minutes."

Trying to pick herself up as quickly as she could Francie slipped and landed on her backside, resorted to trying to crawl out on her hands and knees.

"Oh..and Miss Minter?"

Wild terrified eyes looked up at the impossibly tall figure of the now standing slender woman who had draped herself in a grey silk robe towered over her. A titan goddess in her marble throne room.

"Your employment at the Hardison General Store is no longer needed."

It was two weeks before Francie noticed that the sign over the general store had changed to 'Hill & McCabee General Store' as she left town on the last train.

#Romany Dagger verse #Mary x Hoyt Hill

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 2 years ago

Note

For the headcanon meme if you still open

■ and ☾ for Manwe

Please and thank you💚

Still open, 🙂. I'll be taking these HC asks tomorrow as well.

HC game from this post

I will stick to the bedroom portion of the first headcanon.

*Cracks knuckles*

■ - Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon:

Manwë's bedroom is massive, as it should be. He is the Elder King after all.

As for the overall decor and themes? The walls and coffered ceiling are comprised of white marble. On one side, beautiful, wide-arched windows made of stained glass strong enough to withstand the winds atop Taniquetil can be found. These windows depict some of Arda's history since the time of the Ainulindalë. In fact, most of the windows (save for those in the observatory) in Ilmarin are all stained glass, depicting various historical events and stories.

His bed is a stunning four-poster made of white wood. The drapes and bed linen are all white with gorgeous blue accents. A crystal chandelier hangs in the center of the bedroom. The prisms of the chandelier are shaped to look like feathers.

Others- a fireplace in one corner, with an occasional table and a pair of plush chairs (in blue) in front of it. Then you get your usual items, like a bedside table, a chest of drawers, a wardrobe, and a sofa set. All have the same color scheme of white and pleasing shades of blue.

☾ - sleep headcanon:

Manwë doesn't just sleep. He has a whole routine. A warm bath first and foremost, to soak his cares away. We're talking fragrant oil and candles, perhaps with an elven minstrel in the bedroom strumming a harp. Then he will slip into comfortable silken robes and braid his hair before going out and paying the minstrel with a gold coin. Once he is alone, he will slip into bed with a good book. He's a light sleeper, often worrying about his brother and Arda in general.

Tags: @edensrose @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese @fictionfordays @wandererindreams

#Manwë #manwë súlimo #Manwë imagine #Manwë headcanon #headcanon game #The silm #the silmarilion #The silm imagine #The valar #The ainur #Ilmarin

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unboundtravels · 1 year ago

Text

SHORT TRIPS; UNBOUNDNOVEMBER 20/23: SUNRISE

A post regenerated (Looney) Doctor enters The TARDIS after a trying ordeal. Inside, he attempts to situate himself after the change concludes.

She stands there on the corner of an empty street. The sunlight bakes her wood, causing her to have an aged, rustic look. Her blue has faded into a darker color. She's decided she wants to wear an aged, faded look. Her windows were a pale yellow, her text and lamp scratched and worn. Despite her rustic appearance, she's still the most beautiful thing he's ever laid his eyes on.

He's still wearing another man's clothes. Now he's maybe a few inches shorter, though. He's holding a thick cotton black coat, wearing a baggy faded sweatshirt and loose trousers. He'd already kicked the boots off a while ago. His skin was lit with a blush, his cheeks dotted with the odd freckle here and there. His eyes were bright and brow and his hair was long, wavy, and brown. He hadn't had the time to change because he'd been forced to wake up prematurely and attend to some planet-saving business. That was done now.

"I like your new look, old girl." He compliments, before fishing out the key and pushing the door open. Once inside, he was bathed in a warm, aquamarine glow. His eyes take in the circular shape of the new console room. "Oh," He cooed, "I really like your new look." He moved to step up the raised platform, hands tracing the rusted railing before he stepped up onto the first of two raised platforms leading to the console. He's impressed by the organic pillars and the wall-mounted platform. The TARDIS felt very mechanical in this form, with a splash of patchwork to make her feel more handbuilt. That made the connection between himself and her more intimate in that regard, he thought. It felt like she wanted to feel pride in him. Switches felt placed in familiar positions that made it feel like he himself had constructed the craft.

The rotor was pretty. The crown jewel of the console room. Steeped in a blue glow that gave it a beautiful contrast with the amber walls. The loose cables were a lovely touch, while also feeling needed. More powerlines indicated increased power. He draped the coat of his previous incarnation over the hydraulic raised car seat near the back of the console. He stepped toward the console, his hands clicking and twisting various switches that seemed to prime the engines and the console. He exhaled, "Ohoho... I know I hear ya, I hear ya." He replies to the purr of the TARDIS engines. She's ready to take off. Before he can even begin priming the engines for take-off fully— he moves to step away from the raised platform, down through a small hatch-like door leading into the corridors.

The Wardrobe was a multiple floors, with a rotational staircase leading up to the rest of the floors. He climbed up it immediately, heading toward the top floor. He intended to work his way down, and on his way up he began removing the rest of his previous selves clothes. On the top floor, he started with pants. He grabbed a tight pair of black jeans and socks. On his way down he grabbed a black T-shirt and a pair of sneakers, high tops. Near the final floor, he grabbed a green cargo jacket and a messenger bag. By the time he reached a mirror, he was more confident in his appearance. His hands were in his jacket, but the messenger bag helped his look appear firmer, tighter.

With his new look, he moved to click various switches that warmed up the engine. A buzzing on the console attracted his attention. The console deposited a Sonic Screwdriver, the latest model. Retrofitted with all the current upgrades and a little extra. The Doctor squealed excitedly, "Oh! A new one~" He grinned delightfully, like an excited, manic puppy. It was copper, with bits of silver. It's bulb was green. Holding it by the quartz handle, The Doctor aimed it. The button was housed in a black leather midsection. The bulb glowed an emerald green. He tossed the Sonic Screwdriver, letting it spin before he caught it again and slid it inside his inner breast pocket. "Thank you, sexy~" He winked at the console before standing away.

"We've got so many places to go... So many stars to see." He grinned brightly, that light in his eyes seemed restored. A light that had once been gone seemed rejuvenated, restored. He was eager, ready. He waited though, at the front doors. He leaned against it, the console. Perpetually caught in silence as he waited for his friend. Despite it all...

He'd still rather head off with someone, than no one. And she'd endured so much.

She deserved a few more trips.

#!!!. {in character | ic}#vi. {the looney doctor}#unboundnovember

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downwiththemoralmajority · 4 months ago

Text

Eyes Of The South

Phil Anselmo x OC

Words: 2273

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, make out scene

After 8 years Linda will finally meet Phil again. But will Donna, her best friend, form an obstacle?

„Hurry up! I don’t want to be late.“

„Dude chill“, I shout back, not really chilled actually. I’ve been searching all afternoon for my leather jacket and I haven’t found it yet. Not in my closet and neither in the wardrobe. I can’t leave the house without my beloved leather jacket.

„You searching for the jacket again, aren’t you? C‘mon, it’s 1995. We’re not in the eighties anymore.“, Donna hisses. She always wants to leave so early. Either she’s too fast or I’m too slow. Nothing in between.

She continues complaining: „Okay, listen, Linda. This isn’t Pantera. This isn’t 1987. We will visit the release party of Down‘s new album. And do you really think Phil will remember you?“

I haven’t seen Phil in eight years. And I agree with Donna. My stomach hurts by the fact that he didn’t think of me. I turn around to look at Donna: „Don’t be so skeptical. You can’t forget a person who was in Highschool with each other and friends later on.“ Though we’ve had a really good time, I doubt that it will be the same again but at least he will remember. Donna is just jealous that she’d never had a male best friend. A good-looking male best friend.

Donna and I met last summer and we developed a kind of „purpose relationship“. People would call it toxic but we have to get along. Her mom is my boss. Every month she hosts a so-called staff gathering in her mansion and Donna is usually around. So we started talking and became friends. Unfortunately we now have to stay friends because I don’t know what could happen between me and her mom.

„Okay, sorry, Donna for being late. I can’t find my jacket. But let me ask you. We have plenty of time. So, how did you manage to get us on the guest list for their release party?“, I am really curious. Why didn’t I ask earlier? We don’t talk much about our personal life. Everything is always about her mom‘s job. But not much about her hobbies, her friends.

„Oh sweetheart“, she always calls me that, „you know, my mom owns a lot of venues in New Orleans and one of those locations is where the party‘s gonna be. Haven’t I told you that yet?“ Surely not, I mumble hoping she wouldn't notice. It’s the influence on everything. It’s clear that she doesn’t have real friends in life. She continues: „And I heard you talking about Phil Anselmo and my mom was talking about a band called Down and so she managed to get us on the guest list.“ Inwardly I want to kiss her mom‘s ass for having a big influence. But that’s not how I wanted to seek Phil‘s attention.

After listening to Donna‘s highfalutin talk I admit that there’s no chance of finding my leather jacket. I pack my purse and grab the keys.

The engine started revving as soon as I turned the keys. Thanks to Donna‘s mom for giving me a good salary so I can afford a new car. It’s a black Ford Escort and I’m glad to have it. I have a look in the driving mirror and I reverse out of the parking space. The sun is almost down and the blue sky turns into a yellow and red sunset. Though I swear to never smoke in a new car, I lit up my cigarette and opened the window. Donna imitates me. Since when did she smoke? What I didn’t realize until now was her new hair color. Almost the same color as my hair dye. „Could you please turn the radio on? I hope for a new Michael Jackson song.“, she requests. Oh, please, no. I hate the local radio stations. But your wish is my command, I think.

She starts singing, badly, worse. My fist was not even one meter away from her and I could have punched her in her throat. What makes me so angry about her recently? She even imitates my dress style. I shouldn’t think about that.

We arrive at Eyes of the South at 9 o‘clock in the evening. It was a huge building next to the shore. The black close-drawn curtains make the venue look so exclusive. Surely not every person is allowed to be a guest.

We were at the restaurant last Friday. Donna craved some ribs and she had no better idea than wasting her time in her mom‘s restaurant. I still cringe at the thought of Donna‘s eating techniques. Her face and hands full of sauce. And she wonders why she still doesn’t have a boyfriend. But I had to provide more sauce and more alcohol for her. I didn’t like to wait tables when she was around. She often went all out and didn’t want to pay anything.

The huge billboard in front of the restaurant offers ten percent off if you buy 2 pounds of ribs. Next to the door a security guard decides whether you’re welcome or not. We go straight to him and show him our ID cards. He nods and permits us entrance.

I was so tentative when I first entered the room full of celebrities and strangers. A masculine body odor tickles my nostrils and the thought of being one of the few women makes me feel special. All eyes are on us when we open the door but I couldn’t see Phil. Oh my god, I hope he’s here.

„Linda!“, Donna screams enthusiastically, „I think I know where you’ve lost your leather jacket.“ My eyes widen. She grabs my arms and leads me to the locker room. „Have a look, Linda. Last chance to find your jacket. It must be here. I couldn’t think of anywhere else.“ As soon as I entered the stuffy and untidy room, I heard the door slamming. Fuck, Donna trapped me! In total darkness I manage to turn on the lights. I am going to freak out. I was furious. What is Donna’s plan? I have to put myself in Donna’s position. What would I do next? I would grab a bottle of whisky, drink a little bit, complain about the tangy flavor, cough and no, that doesn’t help. Okay, next try, Linda. She would dress and dye her hair like me, trap me in the locker room, put on shades and then make her way towards Phil. Suddenly, my heart is beating faster and I start breathing heavily. I am about to scream but I don’t know if they could hear me. Oh, they actually should hear me. More interesting is that I heard what they are talking about at the party, that DONNA is talking to Phil. This little bitch. I’m gonna beat her up as soon as i leave this room.

„Phil? Is that you?“ I hear Donna purring. Sure is that Phil. Why shouldn’t you recognize him? He’s in every music magazine. He’s a rockstar. You should recognize him. Don’t ask that stupid questions. Don’t act like I would be that dumb.

„Do I know you? And yeah, my name‘s Phil.“ I hope he won't react like this when he meets the real me. To hear what they’re talking about I put my ear much closer to the door. Goddamn, it’s so hard to understand.

„Let’s play a guessing game. We were friends in High School and haven’t seen each other in eight years.“ Oh girl, please shut the fuck up. I would never talk like this. Wait, now it’s Phil responding.

„Umm, it’s hard to tell, you know, I’ve had some friends in school and I haven’t seen lots of them for a long time. Maybe take off your shades and I will guess.“

Yes, take off those stupid shades. Who is wearing shades in the middle of the evening in a restaurant? Okay, she hasn’t answered yet. I still need a little time to.. oh, WHAT IS THIS? Donna was right. My leather jacket! Phil’s leather jacket he gave me before he left high school. He will know that I’m the real Linda. Okay, that sounds like a movie. Let me think about it.

A sudden flash of inspiration crossed my brain. I frisk myself and find the fucking keys for the locker room in my pocket. I have keys for the locker room because I fucking work here! Okay, I’m really that dumb.

Hurriedly I rummage around my pocket for the keys and unlock the door. Heavy sweating from being trapped inside the locker room I jump outside and slam the door.

With heavy steps I walk towards Fake Linda and Phil with my leather jacket on and say gently: „Thanks Donna, I’ve found the jacket. I would’ve never found it if you didn’t lock me in the locker room.“

I can see through her shades how embarrassed she is. Without making a sound she leaves the round and goes to the bar, grabs a bottle of whisky, takes a sip and coughs.

Donna isn’t the only one who is uncomfortable. I stand in front of Phil and don't know what to expect. I flash him a glance hoping he will remember me. He looks different now. His hair is darker and short. He has a short beard. His flannel shirt and his Bermuda shorts seem so normal compared to what he used to wear in his glam days.

„You still have my leather jacket.“, he smirks. He mentions it like nothing happened. Like he totally forgot about the five minutes alone with Donna. All focused on me.

I am plain: „Phil, I don’t know what to say. I believed you forgot about me. Pantera, Down, touring. I wear this jacket everyday. It reminds me of the good old times.“ And of course that I’m still in love with you. Without saying a word he just hugs me passionately. I can’t stop smelling his perfume mixed with smoke and beer. He hugs me deeply until he lets loose.

„My dear Linda, how could I forget about you? I will never forget what it means to have a best friend.“ His smile widens. His brown eyes fixate on mine until I interrupt his stare. „Shall I get us a drink?“ I ask. He instantly grabs my hand and we both walk towards the bar.

After chatting with Phil and jamming with his band colleagues I decided to leave the gathering. I was a bit drunk and the sooner I stop drinking the more I can drive. Visibly sad, I stand up and search for the keys. I find them but suddenly Phil grabs my hand and pulls me down on the couch. „You won’t go anywhere. You’re drunk. I don’t let you drive.“, he says firmly but kindly. I fall down on his lap. I can’t be any closer to Phil and haven’t been since high school. Childishly he holds my keys and throws them to Pepper, Down‘s guitarist. He laughs and hides them behind his back. I jump to Pepper who isn’t willing to give me the keys back. „Kiss me, if you want your keys back.“, Pepper can’t stop laughing. I glance at Phil and see that he isn’t very amused about Pepper‘s offer. To the disadvantage of Pepper‘s attempt to kiss me I suddenly steal my keys and hide in Phil’s arms. Phil holds me close and caresses my belly. I sink deeper into his body and feel like I’m on cloud nine.

Carefully he stands up, takes my hand and asks me softly: „Could you show me where you’ve been locked for five minutes?“ Shivers go down my spine. I have goosebumps. This is definitely cloud nine.

I take the keys and unlock the locker room. We both enter the room and Phil immediately shut the door, cups my face and kisses me so passionately like he’s been waiting for me all the years. Fiercely we fall against the lockers. He presses me against it and I feel his strong muscles. His toned arms hold me close. I open my lips and let his tongue in. My legs start to shake, so he takes them and lifts me up. He was even closer to me with my legs around him and I could feel his boner between them. „Fuck, Linda“, he breaths heavily, „where have you been all those years?“ I couldn’t make a sound. I just continue kissing him until my lips are sore and wet.

„I would fuck you right here, Linda. But I don’t have a condom.“ A sudden feeling of sadness stops my passion. My legs are heavy and I try not to cry. Why am I so sensitive right now? Is it the booze or because I’m in love with Phil?

Phil’s idea interrupts my thoughts: „But no problem. Let’s disappear! To my hotel room.“ His devious smile clears away the cobwebs. He grabs my hand again and we leave the locker room. Phil waves to his band mates and smirkes. They surely know what we’re going to do.

„Phil, before we go I want to check if my car is locked, okay?“, I insist. He nods. The car is locked. That’s fine. But what the hell is this? I fucking scream. I punch my car, I kick my tires.

„That fucking bitch lanced my tires! All four of them!“ Furiously I jump up and down and try to not lose countenance.

He steps forwards and holds me close. I stop screaming. „Let’s go to your hotel room. I have to let off steam.“ He claps my ass and I forget about my car and Donna.

#phil anselmo #phil anselmo fanfiction #phil anselmo x OC

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loveinthevalley · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 1

The gentle warmth of sunlight on my face was the thing to wake me up. I took a deep breath and stretched the blanket above my head in an attempt to shield myself from the offending glare. The soft down was immediately unfamiliar. This wasn’t the cheap Amazon blanket I was used to. I snapped up with a gasp and darted my eyes around the room.

Where the fuck am I.

I was surrounded by quaint cabin walls and a window with wooden blinds to my left. The room was rather spacious with nothing but a wardrobe and nightstand with a blue vase containing yellow flowers. If this was a kidnapping, I supposed the accommodations could be worse. I took note that my wrists and ankles were, in fact, free and I was not chained up.

I took one more glance around the room trying to steady my thoughts and quietly look for clues. My eyes locked onto something poking out of the arrangement next to me. Embedded in the flowers appeared to be a card. My heart began to pick up speed again as I reached for the small piece of paper expecting some Jigsaw-esque instructions and an explanation as to why I was there. What I found was almost worse as it explained absolutely nothing: written in delicate cursive on blank cardstock were the words, “Welcome to the Valley!

The valley? What valley? As in San Fernando? Had someone kidnapped me and brought me to California? How the hell did I sleep through being dragged halfway across the country?! I listened carefully to check if I could hear anything in the house. I held my breath for what felt like minutes before I finally determined there was nothing but the birds outside the window. Whoever had done this to me certainly felt comfortable enough to leave me alone

I let my legs fall over the side of the bed and carefully pressed my bare feet against the wood floor. There was a creak and I hesitated, once again listening for anyone who might have heard. Once I felt safe, I stood up and tentatively approached the window and proceeded to open the blinds.

It certainly seemed like I was in the middle of nowhere. The sun was up but still relatively low. It must have been around 8:00 in the morning. The sunlight streamed through a smattering of trees, but just beyond them, I could make out a dirt road leading into the distance. This certainly didn’t look like California, but if it was it would be in bum-fuck nowhere. However, a dirt road meant something at least. Civilization couldn’t be too far. If I could get a head start before whoever brought me here came back, I might be able to get help.

I made my way around the bed to the other side of the room. There was no door leading to the rest of the house, just an opening. Before proceeding, I realized there could still be anyone waiting for me around the corner. I grabbed the blue vase and held it tightly in both hands. This would have to do. I crept through the doorway – each step making a loud creak. If there was someone here, they knew I was up now.

The room adjacent was a living room with a fireplace, television, and a small table with a single chair tucked under it. A modest kitchen also resided at the other end of the room. And that was it. There was nothing else to the cabin. There were no other rooms and the only door was at the front of the house. I was all alone. With a sigh of relief, I placed the vase down on the table.

My relief was short-lived, however, as an unsettling feeling crept over me. Why does this place feel so familiar? Two things gave it away: the gray and white tile delineating the kitchen from the living room, and the ornate, rust-colored rectangular rug in front of the TV. I approached the rug with disbelief. No way. I would recognize that stupid pattern from anywhere. Dozens of save files. Hundreds of hours of playtime. Sure, some of it was a bit different, but that stupid rug was just the same.

I ran back into the other room, no longer concerned about the volume of my footsteps. Instinctively, I looked at the wardrobe next to the window. This was different. Maybe I could find a clue. Something, anything that would disprove the unhinged thoughts rushing through my head. I whipped the doors open and saw only a few clothing pieces hanging up and some boots sitting on the bottom. I began rifling through the flannel shirts and overalls looking for an explanation. The last thing I looked at was a tattered men’s leather jacket. In one pocket was a wallet, and in the other was a folded-up letter:

If you're reading this, you must be in dire need of a change. The same thing happened to me, long ago. I'd lost sight of what mattered most in life... real connections with other people and nature. So, I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.

The letter slipped through my fingers and I began to feel light-headed. I steadied myself against the bed and sat down. Staring at my hands in my lap…I began to laugh.

What a strange dream to be so lucid in. I haven’t even played this game in weeks. I closed my eyes and attempted to fly. Might as well if I was lucid dreaming. But nothing happened. And how could I have such clear thoughts in a dream anyway? There must have been a different explanation…

Before I could think of anything else, a gentle knock rapped against the door. My heartbeat immediately raised again as the thought of some elaborate kidnapping came back to the forefront of my mind. If there was someone dangerous out there, I might as well face them head-on. I retrieved the vase from the table and crept toward the door placing my hand on the knob before realizing…the door was chain locked from the inside. Whoever was out there likely posed very little threat to me. Still confused, I set the vase down and turned the knob opening the door just enough to catch the chain.

A man with a gray mustache wearing a brown newsboy hat greeted me on the other side of the door. You have got to be kidding me. He had a warm smile but was clearly confused by my caution.

“Good morning, neighbor!” he chirped. His head tilted to the side as he tried to look around the room.

“Hello…” I responded, instinctively blocking his view. He then looked me up and down.

“Hope I didn’t wake you! I figured you’d be up and about pretty early to catch as much daylight as possible.” I then realized I was still wearing my pajamas. They were the ones I had put on the night before. He extended a hand through the gap. “Name’s Lewis. I’m the mayor here in Pelican Town! Pleased to meet you, Love.” I stared down at his hand. Wait. “Love?” Gross. Why is he calling me that? If I was going to get answers, I was going to have to play along. I grabbed his hand firmly.

“It’s good to be here, sir.” I released his grip, closed the door slightly, and removed the chain giving the door free reign to swing open.

“No ‘sirs’ necessary!” he chuckled. “I’d like to think we’re all family here in Pelican Town.” With nothing blocking his view, he looked around the room. His face lit up with a smile. “I see you got our welcome gift.” I followed his gaze to the flowers on the table.

“Oh! That was from you?”

“Just think of it as a gift from all of us,” he replied. “The vase and flowers were sourced from talented folks around town. I even got someone to write the card. I should have been a doctor with how bad my handwriting is,” he chuckled. “It’s rare we get someone new in town. We’re all very excited to meet you.”

This didn’t seem like some delusional stalker. He was completely earnest. My mind raced with questions needing answers, but if he was serious, I would look like a lunatic. I needed to be subtle. Who would be the first person who might have answers for me?

“I can’t wait to meet everyone. My grandfather told me so much about all of you.” The Mayor’s smile dropped and his eyes softened.

“I’m sorry for your loss, dear. Your grandfather meant a lot to the people here. He was a fine man.” I did my best to put on a sympathetic smile, but it wasn’t easy considering I had not lost anyone.

“It’s been difficult, but I think I’ll feel closer to him now that I’m here.” It was time to use the conversation to my advantage and find out more about the ‘rules’ of this world I’d been thrown into. “One person he mentioned was Rasmodius. Does he live close by?” His brow furrowed in confusion.

“I didn’t know your grandfather was close to the Wizard.” That was my answer. Magic is…canon? Is that the word I should use here? Surely if anyone knew what was going on it would be him. If my “grandfather” wasn’t close with him, I would have to think quickly of an excuse.

“I don’t know much about their friendship to be honest. He left me a letter and mentioned how much the Wizard knew about the Valley and that he might be able to help me settle in.” I hoped this would be convincing enough to get him off my case. Mayor Lewis shrugged.

“I s’pose so. I’d say you could learn a lot by talking to just about anyone in town, but if you want to talk to the Wizard he’s about a 45-minute walk toward the southwest. Need someone to show you the way?” I didn’t want company, but I had to admit I wasn’t eager to get lost in some unknown forest.

“I think I should be fine. Mind drawing me a map?” Lewis reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved a pen and a small notepad.

“You’re lucky my memory’s not what it used to be. That’s the only reason I carry a pen and paper on me.” He began to crudely sketch the path to Rasmodius’s tower. It was just how I expected it to look. Once he finished, he tore the paper off and handed it to me.

“Mind if I keep the pen? I moved in with just about nothing.”

“Sure thing, Love. Actually, keep the whole notepad too. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of planning to do to get this place up and running.” I took the pen and notepad. I’d need to collect my thoughts somehow if I was going to figure out how I got here and how I was going to leave.

“I appreciate the warm welcome, but I’ve got plenty to get to!”

“Oh, I won’t keep ya. Come into town and chat me up any time if you need anything.” The Mayor gave me a smile and a nod and made his way off the porch.

It was as he was leaving that I finally got a chance to take in my surroundings. An expansive plot of land sprawled out before me, much larger than I could have guessed. Oh my god. This is real. A crude fence surrounded the entire plot of land which appeared to be somewhere around 10 acres. To the west of the house was a large, rundown barn. Toward the south was a dirt path leading out of the property and into the woods. East was the dirt road I had seen earlier along with what appeared to be a tool shed. Scattered across the property were several plots of what appeared to be once-tilled soil now overgrown with weeds.

Feeling overwhelmed, I shut the door, retreated inside, and set the pen and notepad on the table. I returned to the bedroom and changed into a pair of work pants and a red flannel shirt. Looking at myself in the wardrobe mirror, I couldn’t say this was my typical style, but I had to fit in. Besides, it was all I had. I approached the front door in my boots and took a deep breath. I can’t put this off. I need some answers. I opened the door and stepped out onto the porch.

#stardew valley #sdv fandom #sdv fanfic

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forgotten-contract · 1 year ago

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voidtouched-blue--[Prior]

At this point, she didn't care about neither privacy nor comfort. As appreciative as she was for his assurances, he had already seen more from her than she was willing to share with anyone else. Bared her raw emotions to a complete stranger, all for the offer of the drink of knowledge to sate her greed. He knew more about her sorrows than the one other person she considered trustworthy. At the very least, she owed him an explanation, but only if he would ask it of her. "A promise...you shouldn't...have to make..." She breathed. Enough of her voice had returned to give her whispers a little more volume.

Her struggling form shivered and shook, quaking with each heralding step on pins of empty nerves, muscles of those clawed hands twitching with involuntary effort as each second onward seemed as graceful as a rueful beast scrabbling out of quicksand, the ball and chain of mortality twinging each taut thread of functionality that threatened to snap on an fettered whim.

Strong willed, stubborn, and beautiful in the way she denied even the concept of assistance. It was not an option despite how much the fur of her body shivered, or how her tail swayed with a stilted tick tock tick in the fragility of some false center of balance, each arc of her foot reverberating an echo as discomfort visibly spun through her jilted steps. It wasn’t easy and that was speaking lightly.

The man offered no help, only stepping into the next room to allow his guest the space to make it herself. Slowly his guard had begun to return despite the measure of ‘kindness’ that was to be had within the open bath.

Actions he could fake, the means to an end, no more connection to a history she need not learn.

Once more that coffin closed on the lies of the dead.

The room itself was as fairly ornate as any other aspect of the manor, with a trio of arched windows within the second floor being the majority of the light source in the morning he had no need for the licking flames of candles; the bath itself was a large marble construction, a raised platform of the same, a basin of white stone meticulous in its original creation. A small table at its side with a few soaps, brushes and towels of various colors - things that looked far too normal for the gore that waited in the shadows.

A few chairs lingered to one side, and slatted doors that looked like a wardrobe and a desk in a small alcove that seemed to have been built into a natural curve of the estate that connected to the other amenities expected of the room that didn’t fit their needs at the moment, all across from the walled counter that housed flourished mirrors.

It was all very… clean.

But not sterile, the scent of flowers wafting on the air as if in combat with the stagnant iron his poor guest dragged into the room on caked filth, soon the fragrance - while not overwhelming to the senses even as heightened as her own - began to give a dreamlike disconnection from the torment that had happened in nary a bell of time.

Hands clasped behind his back in that well known habit, Silvaire ignored the footprints he left as he moved to that raised tub to begin adjusting the faucets for a comfortable temperature. Folding his sleeve up on habit to avoid the water he listened to the crumpled form of the young woman as she collapsed into the room, sparing half a glance to her as she spoke before returning to the task; though he wasn’t mortal, there was nothing better than relaxation in soothing warmth, even he had to admit to that.

A chuff of mirth escaped as her whispers were almost lost beneath the gentle waterfall, the heat leveled perfect soon enough as the man responded. “I suppose it is a bit late for that, isn’t it.”

Snake-like eyes turned to her, watching for a heartbeat as she struggled beneath the weight of her own body, the soaked clothes no doubt adding more to the chains, those sharp teeth clenched with a fury reserved only to those who condemned themselves. He could recognize that.

Just as he could recognize that in her current state she wouldn’t be able to even begin healing. Though the only major wound came from those precious horns, her own claws had scraped and tore at her skin and garments to make a difference. So bringing the water to her for the single aspect wasn’t much of an option.

He’d not put this much work into a contract in years.

Just the flurry of questions that wanted for answers though seemed to add to the fine print of his enjoyment however, so the complaint was quieted for that reason alone.

“I will then, at least give you warning Cyra, I’ll be moving you to the water.” The short memory of how he had carried her in her sleep returned and it was with a stiled swallow that he knew he could do the same again. Push came to shove after all.

Obviously with her hissing instinct to the idea they were of one mind in that regard, the thrashing of that matted tail a very visible warning of her disagreement to the offer, but it was a weak movement that told him all the more that it wasn’t a choice for either of them. Even if she dragged herself head first to submerge, she would likely waste all her collected strength to break the surface of the water.

He’d break the contract if she didn’t finish her ordeal to the fullest. That was all.

Standing above her for a moment he hesitated, not due to the frail warnings, but his own hurdles that were quickly locked away within the excuse of ‘A means to an end’ and his hands drifted under her small body with ease - slow to move as if her skin were iron hot, trying to overcome the knowledge of the incoming pain of searing flesh as his fingers grazed the bare skin of her fur.

In an instant he recoiled as the flashes of something invaded his senses. Violation of a memories that were not his own, violations of the body before him, agony writ in skin and bone; a history unspoken, ghosts unseen.

Silvaire said nothing on it. Blinking quickly through the emotion that wrote atop his own - familiar feelings, recognized and once thought maimed to silence - his eyes met those shivering stars before looking away once more. It was no look of judgment, nor was it one of surprise, the scars and habits that he had noticed of his guest thus far made such a past well assumed.

The loathing of a nation that once owned him was seared into her soul, malice and anger attached to any notion of pain she had been raised to understand. These two things were one and the same, even now the man who tried to distance himself time and time again found new facts of this Keeper that continued to ply into his own self imprisonment.

His expression had been tender for that moment before his exhale brought him cold once more.

It wasn’t pity. It was an apology of shared understanding.

After those heartbeats of blanketed quiet between them as they sat closer to each other than they’d likely allowed anyone else in lengthy memory (At least in the case of the hollow lord), Silvaire closed his eyes and pulled her body against his own to pick up the shivering creature. Even within the bloodloss she felt so warm, her quaking nerves a muted howling instinct to fight him as he brought her to the prepared water.

He knew what it was to carry someone who wished to flee, holding their tongue of fears from something beyond him in their moment, knowing that he was helping with good intention. It was a universal constant no matter what banner of creed one carried, Miqo’te or Elvaan Elezen alike.

Silvaire did not hold her for long, but his release of her body was tender into the water with her tail and feet first - it didn’t matter about the clothes yet. Either way they were already clinging to her striped fur with the hold of bloodied claws, water wouldn’t do anything to hinder removal any more; he also didn’t wish to invade that without permission.

Permission was important.

Permission tasted best. That was all.

“…There.” It was a simple word, the mask of his smile light in leu of the way the pooling water along the bottom had already began to stain red, even the cascading tap that poured beside her seemed to torrent into crimson only a moment after it touched her shoulder.

He stepped back then, looking her over for a moment to make sure she could keep herself stable within the tub, already seeing the hues of aching comfort easing the shivering over her limbs, and it was only then that he noticed the habit of the sleeve from running the tap, moving his hands behind his back with that painted smile as he redid the clasps.

“You’ve lost a great deal of blood, and aether besides. Do you have any allergies?” She needed sustenance if she were to go through these trials again, or recover enough to answer his looming questions.

#(morbid curiosity) [voidtouched blue]#thread: first meeting - cyra #[[AUG WHAT'S THE WORD COUNT WHY DO YOU WRITE SO MUCH]]#[[WHY DO I DO THIS]]#[[I am so sorry for length there is no expectation of matching legnths]]#[[ahhhhhhhhhh]]

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drvnkd4zed · 3 years ago

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ੈ✩‧₊˚ beyond the stars || Lee Heeseung

The boys welcomes me with a big hug once we're out of the airport. The air of Mokpo goes right inside my nostrils, reminding me of the ocean and the big variety of entertainment featured in the city. The moment I face Heeseung, a weird feeling crosses my eyes. He takes few steps towards me, smiling, knowing that I missed him. "I know what you've done with Jay" he whispers to my ear. The hot breath of his caresses my neck, giving me goosebumps. Niki sees us from the side, giggling and smirking. "The car I rented is round the corner, let's go" Sunghoon says as he grabs his luggage. I watch the others going first, staring at them walking. They've done all of this so I could rest and find a haven somewhere, a place where we could come and have fun from time to time.

We enter the big house we booked for the week, it looks like a luxurious one, full of marble forniture and lots of modern items around the rooms. Jungwon and Jay run to the biggest tv I've ever seen first, trying to turn it on as soon as they left the baggage at the entrance. "We're playing lots of games here!" Jungwon says. I roll my eyes back, taking off my jacket. I suddenly feel Heeseung's hand on my shoulder, which makes me turn to look towards him. "Let's find a bedroom for us" he whispers, taking my hand. He leads me around the house, asking me which room I like the best. Every room has a gold number on the door, just like in the hotels, it makes this house even more chic. The first one, is a big room for two which owns red walls, red blankets and lots of painting with frames made of gold. It looked like a room for a king and a queen.

the second one is even bigger, there's a big walk-in wardrobe, all colored in blue. blue walls, blue bed, blue tents. I feel like I'm at the bottom of the sea while being there. Us two move to the third one, which is yellow. yellow is happiness and brightness, so I kinda want to have this one, after lots of grey skies and souls. "I know you'd like to sleep here" he says as he tightens the hold of my hand. "This room is so big and... yellow" I say as we get out. The fourth room is kind of... cold and sad. No artworks on the walls, just a tiny ass window covered in dust with two white beds. I open the wardrobe to see what's inside, but there's only dust and insects. Someone enters the room making me startle a little. "We're playing a game to decide the rooms" Jake says as he gets our attention. "Aren't we choosing the rooms?" I ask very confused. "Not really" he answers.

"How does this work? make it quick" Jay says as he sits on the couch. "We're throwing the dice to decide which rooms we're going into, if you get 5&6 you'll go last and throw again" Jake explains, taking a dice out of his pocket. "This is so stupid, why can't we just choose the rooms?" Sunoo asks. "Which room do you want?", all of them answering "the red one" kinda makes me laugh. "see? I'm avoiding fights" Jake states. Jay takes the dice out of Jake's hands, rolling and throwing it right after. "I got a 2" he says. It means he got the blue room, the biggest one which is upstairs. Jay takes his bags and goes upstairs without saying a word, he probably doesn't like the idea of choosing the rooms like this. Sunoo grabs the dice from the floor, throwing it and getting a 1. "Sunoo in that... romantic room?" Sunghoon asks, very shocked. "You jealous?" Sunoo replies. Sunghoon angrily throws the dice, getting a 3. "Fuck, we all got different rorooms" says sunghoon.

"Niki, go ahead", right when my words left my mouth Niki gets a 1, realizing he's sleeping with Sunoo. " Oh God, I can't tell if I'm lucky or not" Niki states as he grabs his bags. "Goodbye" he whispers dramatically, following Sunoo to the left stairs. Only me, Jake, Jungwon and Heeseung are left. "Jungwon, you haven't said a word yet" Heeseung says. "I'm fine sleeping with anyone" he replies. Jake hands the dice to Jungwon, suggesting that he should throw it first. "4" Jungwon states. Jungwon said he was fine sleeping with anyone, I'm sad that he got the dusty room. Anyways, I am more concerned about who I am sleeping with. "Y/n, do you want to throw it now?" Jake asks. "I want to be last" I answer, determined in my tone. "I'll go!"Heeseung smiles and takes the dice, kissing it before throwing it to the floor. " Two 4 in a row!" Jake shouts. "I'm surprised we got no 5&6, it looks like we were destined to play this game" I reply. Heeseung takes his bags downstairs and after few seconds of only hearing his steps, a loud bang echoes in the main room. It's only me and Jake now, staring at each other. He moves a streak of my hair behind my ear, caressing my cheeks. "J-Jake..." I stutter. I see him biting his lower lip, then his eyes fall to my chest, just like his hands. He starts unbuttoning my top, revealing and revealing more. Before I could realize, my hands are on the buttons of his pants. "We have few minutes until the members finish unpacking their stuff". Even if I know I shouldn't let him have me, Jake makes my heart run fast. "Get on your knees" he orders. I'm about to kneel when I hear footsteps from the stairs at the right. "Jake and Y/n aren't done yet?" we hear someone shouting, most likely to be Jay who only wants to sleep.

"Let's do this quickly and forget what just happened" I say as I botton up my top. My mind's confused. Even if these days I only have to relax and think positive, living through the good vibes, the boys are making it hard to me. Niki appears from the corner, playing with his Nintendo. "Damn, I've unpacked everything already and you two haven't found a room yet. So sad" he says as he walks to the kitchen, not raising an eye. "I got 2" Jake says as the dice hit the floor. "I'm sleeping with Jay, so...". I pout as I grab my bags, carrying them to the room 3, the one that I wanted. When I enter the room, Sunghoon is laying on the bed while reading a book. " Oh, it's you" he says. "If you're disappointed that I'm here, you can go" I reply. Sunghoon looks back at the book and sighs. Right when I put the bags on the floor, my phone vibrates again. "Doesn't matter where we're sleeping tonight, I'm thinking of you".

taglist: @rikisnuggie

hope you liked this chapter!

#kpop #enhypen #enhypen reactions #heeseung #jake #jay #jungwon #niki #sunghoon #kpop requests #sunoo #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #kpop smut

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samkat10423 · 2 years ago

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13 Poker Flats - 2

So, here’s the rest of Amy/Yukee’s house.

I did change the floor and wall finishes here. Where you see all that purple, I think EA did it with royal blue - which gave me the idea for this room. So, the basic bathroom stuff was done by EA, only in blue. I upgraded her interior doors and changed the tiles on the floor and that printed area on the tile walls. Plus, I gave her a rug, that towel thingie from one of the stuff packs, and a hamper for her clothes. And some windows, which I may change.

In her kitchen I pretty much changed everything. EA went with a puke green and orangey color-scheme and had those base-game cabinets. So, even though Yukee is still fixated on purple, it’s not as nauseating as what was there. I did leave the laundry stuff as EA had it, since Yukee can’t afford to buy new. Plus, she likes it, because they match the green stripe in her plaid wallpaper.

And this is her lovely bedroom! I did change the railing for something more modern - EA had a white wrought iron one - And I gave her a new wallpaper, which is a gradient purple. (Hard to tell here).

And this is the deck off her bedroom. I did add some more windows here and gave her some deck lights. Plus, I added that drainpipe and somewhere, I added that electrical box.

Other than Sofia Carlton, Amy is the only sim I have ever played in Twinbrook. When I opened this town for the very first time, I chose her on a whim. I think it was her lovely wardrobe choices that caught my eye! Anyway, there was a weird sound, and she went outside to investigate it. While I was trying to figure out what the frack was going on, KABAM! She got squished by a meteor! Laughed my a** off. She’s the only one of my sims to ever get hit by one. A few have had a couple close calls, but only poor Amy got squished. But it put me off this town for a while.

#sims 3 Shuzhang Amy's new digs

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captainapple · 4 years ago

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Ride or Die

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale X Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warning: implied smut, cursing, swearing, explicit language, crime, fluff, 18+: MINORS DNI

Summary: Nice lazy day with Ransom got interrupted by The Thrombeys.

A/N: A repost from my old tumblr that got banned for no reason. It contains Knives Out spoiler!

Masterlist

18+, you have been warned

“Hugh” you called as you rolled softly to his side of the bed.

He opens his eyes and smiles at you. The sun is shining brightly, the light enters through large windows of your bedroom. You can see his sparkly blue eyes scanning your face before his hand ran through your hair.

“It’s Ransom, sweetheart. I set the ground rules here.”

“Ground rules?”, you scoffed. “This is my bedroom, Hugh”.

“You really want me to punish you, don’t ya?”. He challenged you. “You are a brat, aren’t ya?”

“Sharing my bed too long with a brat, I might become one”, you winked. “So, what are you going to do, Hugh?”.

Oh, you really pissed him off this morning. He does not like his first name since that is what everyone called him in his family. The relationship between his family and himself is quite complicated. You met them for couple of times and understood his feeling completely. They are bunch of entitled hypocritical, licking his grandfather’s boots to get the money and power that Mr. Thrombey has. That is why every time you tried to push his button, you just called him Hugh.

After what it felt like hours, you are a whimpering mess right now. He went on you restless until both of you were panting. Well, who needs cardio when you got man like Ransom- you thought to yourself. He rises from the bed and runs a warm bath for you. He might be rough, but he will treat you right afterwards. He would wash your hair, scrub your back gently, and eventually shower you with kisses.

As you lazily drying off your hair, his phone rings.

“I think that might be your side chick. Go pick it up, daddy”, you smirked.

Ransom shakes his head in disbelieve. He might mess around with girls before, giving his entitled playboy nature, but that is before he met you. You are well aware of his traits, but that does not stop you dating him. It seems like he has a charm that drags you to him. Although, he might think it is the other way around.

“It’s my old man, Richard”. He slams his phone to the bed. “Let’s pay a visit.”

“Ugh, what does he want?”, you huffed. “Aren’t you cut from the will?”

“I am. Just mere formality.”

Ransom grabs whatever clothes he left in your house, his old cable knit sweater, long brown coat from last night, and random scarf from your wardrobe. He never really cares about what he wears, but his style is always effortlessly on point. It is either because of his well-built body and perfect face or because you are madly in love with him. You step outside the house as he opens the car door.

“Nope. We are not gonna use that old car”. You pointed to his vintage BMW car.

“C’mon! It’s vintage, sweetheart.”

You grab your helmet and jump on your motorcycle.

“The last one is a loser.” You started the engine.

This is one of your traits that he likes, your sass and stubbornness. When you made up your mind, no one could change that.

“Oh, It’s ON!”, Ransom yelled as you rode away from him.

The road to Thrombey’s mansion is quite breathtaking. The trees are colorful with some of the leaves fall and blown by the wind. It takes you a while to enjoy this view, which you regret it later as the sound of Ransom’s car approaching. Both of you end up arriving at the same time. He goes out of his car and walks towards you. His arm automatically wraps around your shoulder and you walk together with him. There are two men waiting in the porch of the mansion.

“Hugh Drysdale?”, one of the men called him.

“Call me Ransom. It’s my middle name”, he answered.

“Please don’t call him Hugh”, you winked at the man as you and Ransom walked pass them.

The meeting, investigations, and Harlan’s will are really messy. Everyone was shouting at each other and throwing dirt at every names. You watch this whole scene next to Ransom who shows his disinterest while munching on butter cookies. He occasionally feeds you cookies as he laughs at his family antics and curses at them.

As soon as Marta was announced as the beneficiary, the Thrombeys were furious. They do not stop following Marta as she walks out, trying to escape. You follow everyone outside to watch the drama. Ransom is in his car right now. He signs Marta to go with him and she does. As he drives away, he waves and winks at you. Only God knows what he is up to.

“Where does Ransom go?”, Linda asked you.

“You’re his mother, not me”. You sneered and gave her and the rest of the family your middle finger before you rode away.

After that incident, Ransom never visits you again. He keeps you update through text messages. He does not tell you what he is up to, but you do not care anyway. His texts were random. Sometimes he asked how you are doing, sometimes he asked what you are wearing. These texts are his way to apologize to you since his ego is way too big. As long as he is fine, you will be fine.

One day, you heard the news that Ransom was behind Harlan’s murder. He is currently held in police custody. You never been so excited before. He finally stops running away and you miss him so badly. This is your time to shine- you whisper to yourself before went to meet him.

“Mr. Drysdale, your lawyer is here”.

You walk inside a room. Ransom is there, sitting calmly before looking up at you. He smirks, knowing fully that you are the one he has been waiting for, his lawyer and his lover.

“Such a pain in the ass, literary and figuratively” you muttered. “I believe you owe me an explanation.”

“About the murder?”

“Nope.” You pressed the ‘P’. “About the girl”.

“Jealous?” He laughs hard. He never thinks that will be your first question for him.

“Well, I thought we will be having threesome”, you joked.

“If you said so, I could find another candidate.”

“Deal!”, you shouted. “But now, let’s get you out of here.”

“Playing dirty now, aren’t you?”. He cannot believe he finally sees this side of you. He thought you would leave him as soon as you heard the news. “For better and for worse, huh?”

“Ride or die, baby!”

Extra:

‘’Hugh ‘Ransom’ Drysdale escaped, His Lawyer/Lover to Blame.” You read the headline out loud. “Why not wife?”.

You huff as you see the glistening ruby on your finger.

“Who cares, Mrs. Drysdale. Now, shall we begin our honeymoon?”

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #knives out #chris evans #fiction #fancfiction #fanfics #fanfiction #implied smut #fluff #smut #cursing #swearing #hugh ransom drysdale

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