#what is she mad that i bled out in her bathroom

[mapsareforbraindeads]

i only got clothes for christmas. clothes that are very much not my size

[saturnmosaic]

succulent berries nestled in the yard.

pairing : ellie williams x female reader

synopsis : ellie, your wife, gives your cat away, out of envy or circumstance, you can't tell. leaving behind the past, you and your wife move into a new home. but with a relationship on the brink of ravage, the house seems to harbor sinister forces. and with the insatiable hunger for berries you discovered in the yard, things crumble rather fast.

warnings : pussy eating, mentions of miscarriage, animal deaths, blood, cannibalistic yearning, figures/ creatures sorta?? haunted house.

wc : 1.8k

a/n : um yeah...it's kinda bad and not executed well but i wrote this during the week of my exams, can you blame me? also i got kinda lazy during sum bits sooo

betrayal lingers in the car, stirring amidst the crisp air of the AC. the tapping of the rain against the mist covered windows, like the rhythmic pumping of your ruptured heart, does no good to the gnawing feeling inside you. how could she have given away your blythe. the tiny creature always so nimble on her feet at the call of her name, so fond of seeking slumber on your lap.

you’d found her on a similar day like this— grey hues enveloping the sky, water droplets crashing the tender and moist earth with all their might, and the rumbling of thunder in the distance. amidst all that chaos, her meek meow had stood out. her black fur was sleek with the heavy rain, and her belly was smeared plum dark.

you’d taken her home on an impulse. time and medical care healed her. and she had healed you. a lovely year spent with her, reminiscent of a lilac bloom in the summer. but now she was gone, taken away from you by your own wife. your own wife! a blasphemy.

"are you still mad at me? we had no other choice." aventurine eyes dart away from the distorted road to get a glimpse of you. your eyes still bleary and bloodshot, hair ever so tousled, and the silk of your dress embracing your petal-like skin. a bittersweet sight.

"don't say we." not even a glance spared her way, the face you’d seek for in every room you entered, now a face foreign and surreal.

"oh come on, she was sick anyway. it was only a matter of days before she died!" her temper, planted in her like a tempting hydrangea, speaks before her rationale can articulate words, knuckles gripping the charcoal leather of the driving wheel.

"she was not sick."

she sighs, the guilt of her deed looming over her like a sickly, withered willow. “baby, we both know she was and i’m really sorry but we can’t do anything about it. we’re moving to a new town, a new house. bringing her with us would be..a burden. besides i’d rather you not witness her death, i don’t wanna see you suffer like that.”

“i’m already suffering, aren’t i?”

“well, what the fuck do you want me to do, huh? i’m just trying to do what’s right. a-and it’s like i’m always second to that cat!”

the confession, lays bare like an ornate scroll, and makes you ponder if envy was the cause of it. but was what she said entirely fallacious? maybe you had been giving blythe more attention that she’d felt frivolous in your eyes.

“just- i’m sorry, okay? but i promise jesse will take good care of her.”

silence ensues, and soon the quaint house surfaces into your eyesight. the rain and dusk obscured it's intricacy but from what you could make out, it was painted in warm whites and browns, with ivy weaving up the sides and windows curtained in white lace.

…

a house is a body, your mom used to tell you. a haven meant to be worshipped in return for solace and warmth. this house became your body. its walls were alive in the daylight, screeching and beckoning for something while ellie was at work. it fed on your sorrow and resentment like a famished beast, stripping them away to procure life. your heart was indented in these walls.

the house would foist bad omens on whoever visited. aunt daphne had a miscarriage, the frail thing of a baby was bled out on the black and white tiles of your bathroom. it stirred memories of your own miscarriage, and ellie thought that was the reason you leaned so heavily on blythe, loving her as though she were your own child. when uncle luke visited, his golden retriever was found dead in the yard, leaves sitting idly on its fur like an atonement.

ellie wasn't one to believe in curses or anything remotely superficial, but she'd felt something innately sinister residing in the hollow of the house. she wanted to move, but moving away meant leaving behind your body, so you stayed, which compelled her to stay rooted to the house too.

…

on a sunny morning, beads of sweat kissing your skin, damp hair heavy under the sun’s gaze, you’d been lead to the brambles in the yard by the house itself. the raspberries were glistening and plump with saccharine juice.

they might’ve been tainted with fox piss, so you gather them in a dainty basket and slip back into the confines of your home to wash them. the water from the tap cascades down onto the fruits in your hand, ridding them of the insect debris and other dirt.

a tatted arm snakes its way around your waist and a head heavy with sleep rests on your shoulder. it had almost slipped out of your mind that it was a weekend.

ellie's other arm reaches out to turn the tap off and put the dampened raspberries away from your hand. without warning, pearly whites bite down on your neck and her tongue flicks out to languidly soothe the bruised splotch.

a carnal desire courses through your veins. ever since you moved here, and ever since blythe was no longer in your gentle arms, words barely existed anymore. and sometimes silence felt like a human presence, mocking the insubstantial souls around it. without words, sex was your salvation.

she turns you around to hoist you up on the counter, shadows smudged under her eyes. she'd come back from work late last night, you figure.

her calloused hands are on your thighs, pushing them apart with a fervor. a similar fervor that'd paint itself on her whenever you showed her a hint of normalcy. your hands still in her tousled hair, as the velvety pads of her fingertips tug your underwear off.

her knees hit the marble tiles, warmed by the sunlight streaming in through the kitchen windows, as she lifts the fabric of your dress up, a gentle rustle against the morning ambience, revealing your slick folds.

her tongue teases your weeping cunt, one hand clutching the dress up and the other resting on your thigh. you whimper in desperation, pushing her head further.

“ellie..”

she pats your thigh in response, fucking you with her warm muscle, feeling your insides devour it with a hanker. noises flow out of your mouth as smoothly as the tranquil descent of a waterfall, as your fingers dig into her scalp.

a sultry moan muffles into your hole, and she pulls back, the taste of you lingering on her tongue.

“what the fuck? why’d you-” your whine is silenced by the solace of her lips. her tongue slides into your mouth and presses against your own, slick and insistent. your own taste dissolves into your mouth, mending with your saliva.

you bite the soft pillow of her lower lip, drawing crimson liquid and earning a throaty noise from her. somewhere between a moan and a grunt.

“babe..” she lowers her gaze in an attempt to catch sight of the fresh blood. before she can wipe it away with the pad of her thumb, you lick the red off her pillowy cushion of flesh.

the taste is seraphic as it sits on your taste buds, a pure bliss, like thyme on a wound. the sensation of her tongue back inside your clenching walls heightened this feeling, if not subdued it wholly. but the taste still lingered.

her fingers soothe your swollen clit, circling around it as if afraid it’ll be seized from her grasp someday.

she laps at every drop of juice that manifests, like she’d done to your tears, as a fatuous inside joke, a long while ago. so long, she can’t remember if it was a hazy dream.

“fuck. i’m so close.”

her mouth pulls away when you reach your pleasant climax, her fingers still on your clit, helping you through your high. your hands go limp in her hair, and she languidly wipes the glistening slick from her mouth and chin with the back of the hand that releases your bunched dress.

...

the berries stay forgotten until the next morning, when it’s delicacy is withered and rotten away under the exposure to air and temperature. you throw the shrivelled fruits away and pick several more.

the new ripe ones sit snug in a ceramic bowl, alluring and tender. you feast on ten, eleven, twelve, and then the count numbs in your brain. the fluid so grossly alike to ellie’s blood, makes you delirious. it’s utterly enthralling, the juice dripping down your chin, its sticky residue settling on your skin. your teeth and lips and hands stained in a crimson hue, a crimson hue reminiscent of ellie’s blood. ellie’s blood. they chant themselves on the tip of your tongue.

spindled figures, engraved on the floors, long limbs and pulsing eyes, they seem to close in on you. the bowl is emptied, raspberries already in the pit of your stomach. the yearning grows in agony, an animalistic desire surging through the ivory of your bones.

you feel light like you’re meandering through the air, though you can feel the faces of the figures underneath your feet, something metallic making its home in your hand.

you blink and you're standing in your bedroom, ellie coddling her apatosaurus plushie, as her eyes stay fluttered. a vulnerability so immensely coating the room. the knife glides down her supple skin, the smell of meat stirring your senses. was her heart the sweetest part of her body?

"what the fuck are you doing?" her raspy voice cuts through your trance and suddenly the object in your hand feels foreign. with a sharp yank to your arm, the metal clanks on the marble floor.

"what is wrong with you?" ellie's gripping your arms, her face contorted with disbelief, shock and wrath.

"n-nothing." but something is. you both know. tears gush through your eyes, the salty pearls melding with the sweet smear of berries on your skin.

"god, it's this fucking house! we should've moved. fuck!" her grasp on your arms are gone, her hands fumbling for her phone. frustration envelopes her like a smothering blanket as she talks to demolition contractors.

your pleas fall on deaf ear, your mere presence as measly as a lamb. you let yourself be escorted out of the house, eyes sodden, red flickering in them, as you watch- watch the house your body collapse to the ground.

the berries come retching out of your mouth, along with a hideous flow of blood. the walls crumble and the world around you dances like an uncanny painting. sirens wail in the distance and layers of black pierce through your eyes, shutting them for slumber.

[bosinclairsgff]

Slasher's reacting to their s/o on their period

Yeahhhhh I just felt like writing about it because I am in fact on my period, anywho! Enjoy :)

Includes: Bo Sinclair, Corey Cunningham, Patrick Bateman and The Grabber

Warnings: Mention of kidnap, implied nudity and just some of them being mean..

Bo Sinclair

Bo woke up to you saying his name and shaking him softly. You had just started your period and you had bled through your underwear onto the sheets. At first, he was a little annoyed that it had gotten on the sheets but then he looked at how bad you felt and calmed down.

He would still be an asshole, but he would be a nicer asshole.

I think he would offer taking a shower with you to help wash you off so you would feel better.

If you asked him to buy pads, he would say yes but REALLY complain about it and be a bit pissed off. When he gets to the store and sees how many different types there are he gets STRESSED. He would grab you a random one and hope it's the right one.

If you asked him to buy tampons he would make some weird joke about using them. He would buy them for you though, still annoyed. Again he wouldn't know if there is a right size to get or what. So just be thankful for whatever you get.

Corey Cunningham

Corey had taken you out for a ride and you guys were having so much fun. But when the ride as over and you stood up to get off, he noticed a small blood stain on your pants. You were so embarrassed, but he assured you it was totally fine, that its normal and nothing to be embarrassed about. He gave would give you his jacket to wear around your waist.

He would be so sweet about it and would buy you all the chocolate in the world.

Corey would run you a nice bath then when you got out, he would cuddle and watch your favorite movie.

If you asked him to grab you pads, he would say yes but internally panic. He wouldn't know which brand to buy, or if it had to be a certain size. I think you'd get a text of a picture of the isle asking you to tell him which one to buy. Same thing with tampons.

Patrick Bateman

You were sitting in his bed just talking about your day when you stood up to use the bathroom. Once you got up, he sees blood on your panties and on the sheets. He. Was. Pissed. Patrick would defently yell at you for getting blood on his sheets. He would say something like "don't you know when you're going to start your period? You should be prepared. You have made such a fucking mess".

He would make you take a shower while he changed the sheets. Then he would ask if you even had the things you need.

He would you out and grab you whatever you choose to you and be really mad about it.

When he gets back to the apartment he would toss the pads in the bathroom and not say a word to you for the rest of the night.

The Grabber

He's not used to being around people who have periods so he would be so awkward.

One morning while giving you your breakfast he noticed you weren't eating, and you looked like you were in discomfort. He would ask once wrong and shyly you told him you had started your period. He would freeze. The Grabber hadn't even planned to keep you for this long so now that you had started your period, he had no idea what to do.

He would ask you if you needed anything or if you could just stuff toilet paper in your panties and that would do. When you explained it's better to have pads or tampons, he tried to not cringe while talking about it. This stuff made him so uncomfortable.

The Grabber would tell you he would be back in 30 minutes, and he was going to get you pads. Of course, he had no idea what to buy.

One of the older ladies working their noticed how long he had been standing there staring at all the pads. So, she helped him get what she thought would be best. His face was bright red the whole time talking to her.

Once he gets home, he would go downstairs with a few wet paper towels so you could clean up the best you could. No, he would not give you privacy and would watch you.

[jarofstyles]

FICTOBER DAY 2- Was It Worth It?

Hello lovebugs. Welcome back to day two, we got a shortie blurb for all of you!

Fictober Prompts/Masterlist

Patreon

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“Was it worth it?” Y/N grumbled as she gently wiped the cut on his forehead.

Harry had always been a hothead, but with a few drinks in him, his confidence flew. It flew all the way into a bar chair after trying to start a fight in the pub for a guy pulling Y/N close to his lap. She’d gone to report the creep for attempting something but had only gotten halfway through the crowded area when she heard someone yelling Harry’s name and for him to ‘chill out’.

 

The halloween trivia night had been a bust, it seems, but Y/N’s cat ears stuck well to her hair and her half assed attempt of a cat nose and whiskers had only smudged a tiny bit. She called that a win. The black bodysuit had been a hit with Harry, so much so that he had been extra touchy the whole night and kissing on her in the way that was gearing up for some fun at home.

The fight had sobered them both up, Y/N hissing when she saw the blood down her boyfriend’s face. It was a halloween theme so thankfully no one gave them much of a second look when they got into the uber, but she was annoyed he wouldn’t let her bring him to a hospital. 

“It was.” He hummed, pawing at her hips. Y/N was ignoring it mentally, but her body was only so strong. “Totally worth it. I told you I’d always protect you, my sweet girl. Always. And yeah, probably shouldn’t have thrown hands but he commented on your ass when I was going to tell him off so…” He shrugged his shoulders. Thankfully the only injuries seemed to be a superficial cut and a few split knuckles. Still she was going to keep him awake in case of a concussion. 

“You can keep me safe by not throwing hands in the middle of a pub.” She squeezed his chin, giving him a look as she finished tending to the head wound. They bled a lot and it was intimidating no matter what. 

“Hm. Maybe.” He pulled her in between his split legs. “I’m never going to not defend your honor. You’re my love. S’fucked if I just let someone say shit. And then they touch you?” He went to raise his brow but winced, the tender skin making him grunt. “Fucks sake. It was worth it, though. It’ll heal up and maybe I’ll have a cool scar and you can always remember who loves you enough to get his arse handed to him.” 

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, squishing his cheeks before placing a kiss to his mouth. “Fair enough, babe. Fair enough.” She was just glad she didn’t have to bail him out with a cat tail tied around her waist. “Get in the shower and wash the blood off of your hair so I can finish this up.” Her hands smacked his thighs, the sound echoing in the bathroom. “And before you ask, no. I will not join you. I will sit here and make sure you don’t pass out, god forbid, but if I step in there you will give yourself more of a headache trying to touch me.” 

She knew exactly how that would go. Harry wasn’t at all subtle when his shoulders fell, a groan leaving his lips as he stood up from the sink. “Fine. Only because this means you forgive me and you won’t be mad anymore.” He sang over his shoulder as he strolled over to the shower stall to turn on the water. “ No taking it back!”

[annie-creates]

Take a day off

Pairing: Lady Lesso x reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 1000

Note: This request was very specific but i did my best to follow it as closely as I could so I hope you'll like it. I hope we can get out of the shadowban, or did people just stop reading?

Warm and snuggly, that’s how you felt with the rays of sun on your face when you woke up. It made you not want to get out of bed, in the best-case scenario for the whole day. Your girlfriend laid right next to you enjoying the depths of sleep with her red hair sprawled over the pillows. Digging lower into the blankets you felt a weird wetness between your legs, hurriedly getting up realizing you forgot about your upcoming period.

“Shit.” You jumped out of bed forgetting all about the sweetness and laziness of the morning.

Running to the bathroom you notice your pajama pants are bled through. In a hurry you try to minimize the damage, washing the bottoms in cold water to get the blood out. You tried to do anything and everything to get everything back in order and stressed to do so before your partner wakes up. Returning in the room hoping to not disturb your girlfriend, you find her stripping the sheets and covers. A cold feeling of embarrassment and shame washes over you as you couldn’t clean up after yourself in time.

“I’m sorry…” you mumble with your gaze shamefully fixed on the ground.

“What are you sorry for?” Lesso looks at you incomprehensibly.

“I didn’t mean to.” You sniffle a little trying to suppress the tears welling up in your eyes fidgeting uncomfortably.

“Oh honey, it’s just a period. Everyone has it, it’s nothing to be sorry about.” Leonora lets go of the sheets to come and hug you to her, shocked by your reaction as you pull away a little.

“Please don’t be mad at me.” Her hug and tenderness made you cry even more, partly with embarrassment and partly with relief that she didn’t immediately scream at you.

“Of course I’m not mad at you. How did you come up with that?” The dean could hardly understand your reactions or reasoning.

“Well… Chris broke up with me for my period stains.” You admit even more embarrassed having to explain the end of your last relationship.

“Baby it’s nothing to be shameful about, and if they did, they were just a stupid immature idiot.” She assures you kissing the top of your head. “How about I make you some nice warm bath, hm? You can relax and relieve the pain a little.”

“Yeah I’d like that.” You mumble nodding slightly.

Leonora puts the laundry into the washing machine and filles up the tub with hot water, bubbles and relaxing essential oils. You didn’t have many opportunities to take a day off and just lay down and relax, so she decided this is going to be one of those days, starting with a nice bath. She helps you undress and into the water, washing your back and massaging your shoulders how you used to do for her when she was stressed out or stretched herself too thin with responsibilities.

“Thank you, you are the best.” You whine, your worries washed away along with some of the cramps pain.

“No, you are. You never have to be ashamed of being the wonderful woman you are, love.” She soothes you with another kiss.

After washing you up Leonora wraps you up in a fuzzy bathrobe and puts clean bedding onto the bed, snuggling you in. The sun that you were content with almost an hour ago irritated you now as you tried to get comfortable with the pain and feeling of hunger you suddenly had. Periods were always a little crazy and unpredictable.

“Mph, can you get the blinds?” you ask your girlfriend covering your eyes in annoyance.

“Sure. Is there anything else I can get you? Nice warm cup of tea? Or hot chocolate? Some sandwiches?” Lesso offered closing the window sills and creating a dim atmosphere in the room.

“Yes.” You nod and snuggle under the covers.

“Yes to all of it?” Leonora laughs a little.

“If it’s not a problem, please.” You kindly specify.

“Okay.” She gives you one last kiss before leaving the room to get all the food she could find. “I’ll be right back.”

“You don’t have to hurry…” you assure her half asleep already. “Ow, or maybe you do.” You change your mind with a wave of period pain.

Leonora roamed the kitchens for anything that could be of use to her and you could like, warm cup of tea, a bottle of water, sandwiches with different meat in them and a bowl of soup. She also got a few sweet pastries in case you were craving a sugar bomb for breakfast this morning. With a tray stocked with food she returned into the room setting it down on your bedside table.

“I got a few of everything.” She strokes your hair seeing your face contorted in pain.

“Thank you.” You squeak out over your cramps.

“Here, let me get you a warm blanket.” Leonora got a blanket from the armchair sat by the fireplace that was still nicely warmed up. “That should help with the pain.”

“What would I do without you.” You sighed content with her care.

“Be the incredibly strong and wonderful and beautiful woman you always are.” Lesso answers without missing a beat as she gets into her side of the bed.

“Will you read me something?” You ask her not having the energy to read yourself but wanting to listen to her voice telling you stories.

“Sure.” She agrees hugging you to her and opening the book waiting for her on her nightstand.

As she draws little circles on your back with her nails and reads to you, you slowly drift off to another peaceful sleep. Leonora could hardly imagine a better morning than having you snuggled securely in her arms having no other things to worry about than your wellbeing. If this was the happy ending everyone always warbled about, she was quite happy to find it with you and she was going to do everything in her power to keep it.

[bumblesimagines]

Midnight Beach

Part 9

Request: Yes or No

Nearly at double digits y'all

Taglist: @nathan-no @hyubg @ash455

~~~

"Quit squirming."

"It stings!"

"And it'll sting a whole lot more if it gets infected, Sarah." The blonde dug her teeth into her bottom lip and her face scrunched up again. A soft whine emitted from her throat and he tightened his grip on her wrist before she could attempt to tug it away and plead her case about how she was perfectly fine. He gingerly rubbed the cotton swab over the lines on the side of her palm, small cuts that bled slightly when he ran her hand under some water. Small red spots appeared on the swab and he sighed heavily, flicking it into the trashcan and getting out a white gauze pad. He carefully placed it over the scrape, listening to Sarah hiss softly when it made contact. Once finished, she inspected the gauze and ran a finger over it with a small pout as he shuffled around the bathroom, putting and tossing things away. 

"How long will I have to wear this?" She asked, tucking some hair behind her ear and hopping off the sink. Sarah poked at the gauze a few more times, picking at the sticky edges. (Y/N) turned and smacked her fingers away, earning a soft huff in return.

"Probably until the end of the day. You're lucky you didn't fall from any higher. You could've broken a finger or even your wrist." 

"Well, thank you for taking care of me, doc." Sarah cooed with an effortless smile. 

"I wouldn't have had to if you hadn't picked a fight with Routledge." (Y/N) pointed out, his mild exhaustion making his tone come out monotone and causing the smile on her face to fall as quickly as it'd appeared. He stepped around the girl and into the guest bedroom, inspecting the still messy bed. He'd allowed Sarah to sleep the rest of the night off before waking her up to treat the scrape she'd gotten from the party properly cause he knew that otherwise, she'd let it go untreated. Sarah appeared in his line of sight again, holding her hand to her chest and mustering her best puppy eyes.

"I didn't start it!" She sputtered. "That girl did! Did you see how she got in my face?"

"Uh huh, and who exactly walked over to them in the first place? And who shoved John B first? And who-"

"Okay, I get it! I messed up." Sarah tossed her hands up. "I just... I didn't think he'd move on that quickly. It's been one day and he was already flirting with another girl."

(Y/N) pursed his lips. He itched to point out she'd moved on from him before they had even properly broken up. She'd blindsided him at the biggest summer event without warning or sympathy. He found it hard to feel sorry for her. To pretend as if she hadn't taken his feelings and trampled all over them with a couple words and a single action. But he also found it hard to stay mad at her while looking into her pretty doe eyes.

She stared up at him through her lashes, brows knitted upward and lips still pulled into a pout. She had pulled her sleeve-covered arms around her abdomen, her shoulders lowered and her weight shifted on one foot so she appeared smaller than she was. Whether intentional or not, she looked vulnerable and appeared genuinely upset by her actions. His heart twinged and he internally groaned, head rolling back and eyes meeting the smooth white ceiling. 

"I get it." He didn't, but maybe the loss of her father had muddled her memory. Besides, she hadn't started the physical altercation. John B had. From the videos scattered across his social media feed, Kelce had sprung at him verbally and John B responded with his fist. Seemed like he couldn't hold a proper argument without throwing punches first. What the hell did Sarah Cameron even see in him? Maybe he wasn't as mad about the cheating as he thought. Maybe he was more mad about the fact she cheated on him with a guy who looked like he had no idea how showers or washing machines worked and wore clothes with stains that looked years old.

Soft hands grabbed him and he looked back down at her as she ran her thumbs over the back of his hands. Sarah smiled sweetly at him and reared up onto the tips of her toes to plant a swift kiss on his cheek. She released his hands when she rolled back onto her heels and turned around, picking up her Converses and slipping them on. Oh, that's right, she'd asked him to drive her around to the Cameron Residence to pick up more clothes. She was essentially moving in for the unforeseeable future.

"Are you sure you want to go? I could ask Topper to distract Rafe some other day-"

"I'll have to face him eventually, (Y/N). I'll be quick about it. Besides, I need to check on Wheezie." Sarah plopped down on the bed and reached down, tying the laces of her shoes and standing back up once done. Leaving the guest room and heading downstairs, (Y/N) swiped his keys from the table and stepped outside, walking toward his jeep with the same level of excitement a dog had when heading to the vet. He got inside and turned it on, the rumble vibrating through his body. Once Sarah got in and buckled up, he reversed out of the driveway and headed down the street of their neighborhood.

The houses in their neighborhood were large and extravagant with yards large enough to fit another mansion. Nearly all the houses resided on the bank, giving the families the excuse to buy expensive boats and yachts that they rarely ever used. Most of their neighbors were part of the same group: families that lived in Figure Eight and enjoyed luxuries because of generational wealth. The (L/N)'s were a family that slotted perfectly into that group. (Y/N)'s great-grandparents from both sides had established a name for themselves amongst the wealthy locals in Figure Eight and the money they generated from their time still made its appearance in their bank accounts present day. He was expected to take up a high-paying job and contribute to the wealth for future generations, just as his parents and their parents had. And yet, all he wished to do was start a life somewhere where nobody knew him.

Pulling up the long driveway of Tannyhill, (Y/N) parked by the front doors and tilted his head upon noticing them wide open. Sarah unbuckled her seatbelt and popped open the car door, keeping her foot pressed against it to hold it as she turned her head to look back at him. "I'll be right back." She said and hopped out of the car, closing the door behind her and heading inside. He leaned back in his seat and tried to calm the uneasiness that bubbled in his stomach at the thought of encountering Rafe. The last thing he needed was to be hounded by a high and delirious guy. Anxiety scratched at his back, digging lightly into his skin and making his mouth dry. 

"Don't think about it..." He whispered quietly to himself, turning his attention onto the radio and fiddling with the knobs in search of a good station. Sarah appeared from the house moments later in new clothes and with a bag slung over her shoulder. She opened the door and sat down, tossing the bag in the backseat and turning toward him with bright eyes. 

"I have to tell you something."

"Uh oh." He grimaced. 

"You know about the Royal Merchant, right? Well, it turns out that the slave who escaped with the gold, Denmark Tanny, is related to Pope and he went looking in his grandma's old house for information after this woman named Carla Limbrey tried to basically kidnap him-"

"Wait, what-"

"-cause she wanted a key that his family had in relation to the Santo Domingo cross. He found that key and it had an inscription on it about an island room and where to find the cross. Our dining room wallpaper got torn up and there were these drawings behind it showing the island. It's the island room! I-I- There's a lot going on, I know, but I need you to drive us to John B's place so I can tell Pope what I found. He needs to know." Sarah rambled, each word making him more and more confused. A cross? A key? Attempted kidnapping? He stared at her, no doubt looking as if she'd grown three heads, and wordlessly stepped on the gas pedal. His head turned back toward the road and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment when he reached the end of the driveway.

"Start from the beginning, Sarah."

And so she did. 

Sarah told him about how she'd accompanied John B to Chapel Hill where he revealed to her that they'd found- or were in the process of finding- the Royal Merchant Gold. She'd given him maps to use and together, they'd snuck into the infamous Crain house and found the gold in a well in the basement but when they tried to return for more of it, Ward had already intercepted and stolen the gold for himself. On the day of Sheriff Peterkin's death, John B had intervened and while attempting to arrest Ward for the murder of Big John, Rafe shot her and thus propelled the island into chaos. Sarah and John B survived the boat capsizing during the storm and were rescued by a crew heading to Nassau where they attempted to steal the gold back from Ward and Rafe shot Sarah. After fleeing from the police, they got on a boat (where John B proposed to Sarah with a piece of string from his bandana) and returned to OBX to find out Pope had been invited to the Limbrey household and pressured to hand over a key for the Santo Domingo cross that'd been onboard the Royal Merchant. His head throbbed by the end of it.

Arriving at the old, practically crumbling mobile home, (Y/N) turned off the car and got out with Sarah, approaching the porch of the house and stepping inside. His gaze immediately went over all trash and clothes laying across the floor, the mere sight of it making his skin crawl. Four people staying in one place and not a single one of them had the bright idea of cleaning up the space? None of them could be bothered to pick up old chip bags and soda cans? (Y/N)'s nose crinkled as he stepped over a moldy piece of bread on the floor. JJ whistled to his friends and smiled sleepily at them, tossing up a peace sign. Kiara groaned softly and pushed up her beanie, shifting around on the worn couch and greeting them tiredly.

"Well, hello, Prince and Princess of Kooklandia." JJ cooed teasingly, a puff of smoke slipping past his lips.

"Shouldn't you be on Figure Eight with your little group of polo players?" John B spoke next, a bitter tone to his voice at the sight of (Y/N). He didn't bother sitting up or buttoning up the rest of his crinkled shirt. "Why'd you bring a bodyguard? Or did you promote him back to boyfriend?"

"We're just friends, Routledge. But I least I wasn't demoted from fiance." JJ hissed under his breath, covering his mouth to hide the string of snickers that left him. John B's head snapped in the direction of his friend, leg lifting to kick JJ's thigh and scowl at him. Pope chuckled quietly, head leaning back against his seat. Sarah rolled her eyes at them and turned toward Pope, a smile settling on her features.

"I think I found the island room." She revealed, her words causing Kiara to shoot up straight and exchange wide-eyed looks with her friends. "It's at Tannyhill. I went home to grab some things and noticed one of the rooms had basically gotten torn down but when I looked further, I saw drawings that look like they were supposed to represent the island. This island." 

"Holy shit." Pope breathed and stood up, the blanket he'd had tossed over him slipping onto the floor. A wide smile broke out on his face and he threw his arms around Sarah, practically vibrating with excitement. JJ grinned and bummed out the blunt between his fingers, pushing himself off the wall and clapping his hands. 

"What are we waitin' for? Come on!" Kiara and John B scrambled off their seats and the Pogues piled out the porch door toward their equally old and crumbling van. (Y/N) swallowed and pressed his lips into a thin smile, walking toward his jeep. Pulling the back door of the van open, Pope looked over his shoulder at him.

"It's better if we stick together, (Y/N)! Your jeep will be fine here." Pope told him, stepping aside so Kiara and JJ could get in while Sarah took the passenger seat. John B swiveled around and stared at Pope wide-eyed.

"I'm sorry, why is he coming along? He's a Kook!" John B protested through gritted teeth. JJ snorted as he fell back into the seat before he leaned forward and propped his elbows up on his knees. He lifted his hand and pointed a finger at each of his friends with a cocked brow.

"I have no problem with (Y/N). Kie, do you have a problem with him?"

"No problems here." Kiara shook her head, curls bouncing around wildly. John B scowled.

"Pope?"

"None here either." 

"Sarah?" 

"Nope." 

Settling back in his seat, JJ folded his arms over his chest and smirked at John B. "It's settled then. Get your ass in here, Sancho!" He called, waving (Y/N) over. A smile slipped out onto (Y/N)'s face and he tucked away his car keys before approaching the van and climbing inside. It reeked of weed and booze and looked just as dirty as the house. He took his seat beside JJ and felt the blonde bump their shoulders together with a wink. Pope chuckled and climbed inside, sliding the door shut and sitting beside them. Grumbling quietly, John B started the van and drove out onto the street.

Pope took out some folded papers from his jacket pocket and began inspecting them closely. Looking down at the papers, (Y/N) noticed they were black and white pictures of old writing and drawings. Pope went over them, mumbling and reading the writing to himself before he perked up and cleared his throat. "Guys, listen to this. The diary says the cross holds the most holy relic in all of Christendom, the Garment of the Savior."

"So, wait," Kiara blinked. "He's saying there's a holy garment inside the cross?"

"Yeah. It says the garment is capable of healing the sick from any malady." Pope replied, tracing his thumb over the drawing next to the writing of the cross. (Y/N) hummed quietly and leaned in slightly, reading over the blurry dark words.

"Mmm, yeah. 'If only I may touch His garment, I shall be made well'." JJ recited with a nod, making everyone's heads turn toward him in confusion. JJ looked between them all, tossing up his hands and furrowing his brows. "What? I went to Sunday school."

"Well, that explains why Limbrey would want the cross so bad. She thinks it can heal her." Pope concluded and looked at a different piece of paper, this time showcasing the Royal Merchant and the Santo Domingo cross being taken from one ship to another. Pope continued on to read the words below the drawing. "'Many feel that we have sinned to steal such a sacred thing, and God will strike His vengeance on us.' God ended up having vengeance. He sent a hurricane out to sink the ship. Only Denmark survived."

"Damn.." JJ whispered. 

"And what do you guys know of Limbrey?" (Y/N) asked and leaned back, feeling JJ's fingers lightly drum against his shoulder. Pope sighed heavily and folded up the papers again, turning slightly in his seat to look at him properly. 

"She's this frail white lady who's a descendant of the captain of the Royal Merchant. Her nephew does all the dirty work for her while she sits back and waits. She claimed to have been business partners with Ward while they searched for the gold but he apparently tried double-crossing her which is why she gave us the tape that proved John B's innocence." Pope explained and (Y/N) hummed quietly, still processing the fact he had willingly joined them on an adventure to find a long-forgotten cross.

"This doesn't make you one of us, by the way." John B piped up, taking his eyes off the road to look at (Y/N) through the cracked rearview mirror. Sarah turned her eyes away from the window and narrowed them at him, scoffing quietly at his words. Kiara reared around and landed a smack on his arm with a scowl of her own. "What? It's true! He's a Kook. He can't be trusted."

"He's an honorary Pogue is what he is, ain't that right?" JJ grinned and snaked an arm around his shoulders, lightly shaking them and giggling quietly. (Y/N) snorted softly and leaned back against JJ further, feeling unusually comfortable around the blonde. John B's fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

"Yeah? Who decided that?"

"We did." JJ's voice took an edge to it and his eyes flickered over to meet John B's reflection. "He saved our asses from Rafe and his buddies plenty of times now, John B. You got to bring Sarah into this without talking to any of us about it, and now we're bringing (Y/N) into this. He's our friend, believe it or not. A lot of shit happened while you were gone, alright?" 

"Thanks, J." (Y/N) murmured quietly and flashed him a small smile. JJ returned it before planting a purposely sloppy kiss on his temple and chuckling at his disgusted groan. John B remained silent for the rest of the ride, eyes straight forward, though they occasionally trailed over to his ex-girlfriend. Sarah tucked her knees toward the door, one arm propped up against the window as she gazed at (Y/N) through the side-view mirror. Her lips curled upward at the sight of him casually nestled between Pope and JJ, fitting perfectly among them.

"We're here." John B called, pulling into the driveway and turning off the van. The group piled out of the van and Sarah pushed open the front door, guiding them through the mansion. JJ and Pope's jaws dropped every couple of minutes, muttering about rich people and their decorations. (Y/N) snorted at their awe-struck looks. The mansion had lost its luxurious shine to (Y/N) long after he began frequenting the residence. But to the two teens who'd only seen the house from the yard or dock, it must've felt like going to Disney for the first time. 

"Pope, look." Sarah opened the door to one of the dining rooms and stepped inside, pushing the door wider for them. Stepping inside, (Y/N) attention dropped onto the floor where wallpaper and even bits of wood were tossed about. Whoever had waltzed into Tannyhill and torn the room up had done it with a single mission in mind. Trailing his eyes upward, he spotted the drawings Sarah had mentioned. Across all the walls spanning the room, there were drawings of specific landmarks they knew all too well and drawings of other things that must've had a specific meaning to whoever created them. 

"Yo, this is a map of the whole island." John B pointed out, just as breathless as everyone else. (Y/N) ran his finger over one of the drawings; a sign that read Kildare Island. His brows furrowed and he shifted on his heels, gazing over each of the presumed landmarks. The gears in his head began turning as the Pogues went around the room, pointing out things they recognized and wandering out loud what they could mean.

"How did you know to uncover this?"

"I didn't," Sarah replied, running her palm over the wall. "It was like this when I got home."

"Then, who did it?" Kiara questioned, a hint of panic lacing in her voice. 

"The freaks." The group flinched and whirled around to face the youngest Cameron, Wheezie. She blinked at them, the tip of her lip quirking at their reactions to her sudden appearance. "The sick lady and her attack dog. They showed up last night, and they wanted to talk to Rafe." She clarified with a casual shrug. 

"Pale blonde lady? She have crutches?" JJ questioned and squinted at the brunette.

"Uh-huh." 

"Wh-What happened?" 

"Well, first, they searched the whole house looking for something, and then Rafe told me to go upstairs but I didn't want to miss out, so I listened through the grate. They started ripping the wallpaper off this room and they were talking about getting across the sand flamingo." Wheezie explained.

"The cross of Santo Domingo?" Pope questioned.

"Yeah! And they were talking a lot about angels. Something about angels. I don't know."

"Denmark's famous last words, guys. He buried the real treasure at the foot of the angel!" Pope pointed out with a large grin. 

Clearing his throat, (Y/N) pulled their attention onto him. "I'm going to assume you guys have already done this but, uh... You guys have searched for a church, right? I mean, if Denmark Tanny was a religious person, he wouldn't have put a cross just anywhere on the island. He would've put it in a holy place like, let's say, a church or at least near one." The Pogues fell silent, exchanging looks. Oh, so they were as dumb as they looked. (Y/N) rolled his lips into his mouth and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Esaxpserted and overcome with a hint of regret, he faced the only drawing of a church and walked toward it, eyes flickering all over it until he noticed the large tree beside it had an oddly shaped hole in its trunk that looked almost like a keyhole.

"Here we go, guys." (Y/N) motioned to the tree and the five teenagers nearly toppled over each other rushing across the room. JJ put his face close to the drawing and squinted, running his finger over it.

"You know what..." JJ stepped back and gazed up at the tree, a smirk slowly stretching across his face. "This humongous tree is still on Goat Island. And you know what it's called? Angel Oak."

"That means the cross is buried at the foot of the angel... That must be where he put it... Near the church at the Angel Oak! That must be where they are right now which means we have to go! Now!"

                    ✽        ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽

"Guys, we're coming up on Freedman's Church. That's the church Denmark built for all the slaves he freed." (Y/N) lifted his head from Kiara's shoulder at Pope's words, leaning forward to peek out the window and catch sight of the old church, a near replica of the drawing at Tannyhill. Near the road leading toward the church sat an old stone sign that read 'Freedman's Assembly Of God.' Denmark Tanny must've worked tirelessly to ensure others like him had a chance to prosper. And now, years later, his descendant searched for the missing parts of a forgotten history. His family's forgotten and stolen history. 

The dirt road led them down a thin strip of land surrounded by water on both sides. (Y/N) eyed the sparkling water with a small frown. If it rose any further, they'd be trapped in unknown territory and possibly be alongside the same people threatening the Pogues. And Rafe. The hair on his body rose at the thought of being stuck somewhere with Rafe. He hadn't seen him since the unforgettable and frightening night when he showed his true colors and showcased his unstable and dangerous personality. (Y/N) still heard the shots and heard Rafe's words echoing in his mind. 

"There it is, Angel Oak." Kiara pointed it out, body sticking between the two front seats to catch a better look. Pope moved forward and peered through the cracked windshield, catching sight of the tree towering over the others, long and thick branches sticking out in every direction. Traversing into the foliage, John B clicked his tongue and sat up straighter.

"Shit, the tide's coming in." He informed them and (Y/N) looked around Pope. Water had begun settling in around them, pouring out onto the road and making it muddy. (Y/N) had little faith in the rickety van, especially considering the way it sputtered when John B slowed it down to a stop. 

"Hey, wait a second. Look. They already came through here." Pope pointed at the barely visible tire marks in the mud. "Those have to be Limbrey's tire tracks. Guys, we gotta go."

"It's looking a little dicey." John B winced, earning a nod of agreement from JJ.

Scoffing, Kiara spoke. "Okay, clearly, they made it, no?"

"In a two-wheel drive? I don't know about that." 

"Are ya'll acting like you're not going to do it anyways cause (Y/N)'s here? Like, when have ya'll ever done the safe thing?" Sarah asked, one arm looped around (Y/N) and body pressed against his side. (Y/N) hadn't questioned it throughout the ride, too focused on how comfortable Kiara's shoulder was to sleep on. But catching the way John B's jaw clenched at the sight of them huddled up together, he started rethinking the seating arrangement.

Regardless of his jealousy, John B turned to JJ and nodded, shifting the car into reverse and backing it up a bit. At JJ's signal, he stepped on the gas pedal and booked it through the road. Mud flung up, coating the sides of the van and Kiara's hand shot out to hold onto the passenger seat. (Y/N) dug his feet into the floor and prayed it'd be enough to keep him from flying forward if the van suddenly stopped. But the van thankfully made it through the slick road and onto dryer land. (Y/N) breathed a sigh of relief and Sarah giggled in his ear.

"Alright, here's good. Angel Oak's right through here." JJ hopped out of the van and slid the back door open. "By the way, gators definitely nest back here so keep your eyes peeled. You don't want to step on a mama gator. That's the last thing you want, alright? You don't want to be a Pat Womack. She had her calf chewed off by a gator."

"Pat Womack was injured in a car accident, but I hear you." Kiara corrected, climbing out of the van and following the boys into the foliage. (Y/N) waited for Sarah to step out before sliding the door close and tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He walked forward, trailing after the Pogues and feeling Sarah wrap her arm around his again.

"So," She began, grinning up at him. "Ready for your first adventure as a Pogue?"

[hannahssimblr]

“Do it, just do it.” 

“Okay well stop moving around all over the place then will you?”

“Jen, wait, maybe-”

“Uh, guys, is there going to be blood?”

“What the hell? No of course there won’t be blood, shut up Joe.”

“No I’m just asking ‘cause like, my ma got mad the last time youse were over when one of you spilled blue powerade on the carpet so…”

“I said there’ll be no blood, relax.”

“Well I’m just saying that I might faint if I see blood, because this time at school before some lad in my base class threw a whiteboard eraser and it hit my face and my nose bled and then I blacked out in the boy’s bathroom and nobody found me for like ten minutes, even though, like, to me, like it felt like no time at all was after-”

“Oh my God, Joe, if you don’t shut the fuck up I’m going to stick this thing crooked.”

“Um, try not to, please.” 

She grabs my chin and holds me still, “Then don’t move, and Joe,” She jabs a finger in his direction, “Not a word from you, I’m dead serious. Right,” Her tongue pokes out the corner of her mouth as she eyes my ear with determination. The ice she’s holding melts a trail down my neck and into the collar of my t-shirt and I don’t dare react. “Has that gone numb?”

“I dunno yet.”

“Probably has,” She tosses the cube into Joe’s sink with a metallic thunk and positions the needle on my lobe.

Shane pipes up from the table, “any blue powerades going, by the way?”

“Shut up!” I can feel her hand trembling, and the sewing needle rasps against my soft virgin skin. She exhales slowly, “Okay, one, two…” she hesitates and my eyes follow her movements nervously as she pushes her hair behind her ears and then leans for a closer look. She’s so close that her shaky breath feathers against my cheek. Take two. “Okay, okay, seriously this time. One, two…” I feel it. I hear it. And a grunt of disgust comes from the back of her throat as the needle pieces through my earlobe. “Oh, God,” There’s silence. My eyes screw shut as I wait for the pain.

“Does it hurt, Jude?” Joe sounds queasy.

“Why? Does it look like it should hurt?”

“I told you it doesn’t hurt,” Jen dismisses, “...but it’s fine, right?”

“I think so. It just feels kinda… hot?” I peel my eyes open.

“Yeah, well, you’re grand, now,” she reaches to the counter behind her, “stud or hoop?”

“Stud.”

“Okay well too bad they only had very girly looking studs in Claire’s Accessories, so I got hoops.”

“Why’d you offer, then?”

She dangles the little purple shiny packaging in front of my face to distract me, “Look at that, hm? Very cool, manly hoops.” 

“Yeah, very manly.” and she fumbles around my ear for several moments trying to get it through the new hole in me, and that’s when it hurts the worst, as she’s tugging and poking and digging her sharp thumbnails in, but I pretend that it doesn’t because Shane and Joe are in the room and sixteen year old boys aren’t supposed to show things like pain and discomfort in front of each other, it’d be weird and socially unacceptable. Vulnerability is illegal among us.

If it were Jen and I alone in this caravan I’d at least be whining at her, if not actually tearing up about the discomfort of it all.

She closes the clasp at the back of the hoop and presents me to the room, “What do ye think?”

“A bit red,” says Joe as he clutches the rim of the sink with milk white knuckles “Is it meant to be that red? That’s not bleeding, is it? Ah Jesus, I don’t think we should have done this…” Shane glances away from the olympic basketball game on the TV and huffs out a laugh. “Gay ear,” he says. 

Jen pauses, “Gay ear?”

“Yep, ‘tis the gay ear.” 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Obviously, like, you’re after piercing the right lobe; the one that you pierce when you want all the other fellas to know that you fancy them or whatever, like, I dunno. I just heard that some place. Shoulda pierced the left.”

I tug on it self consciously though it’s tender. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Lads on the football team probably, look,” He crosses his arms with authority, “I go to an all boys school. I know what the Gay Ear is.”

I look up at Jen and tell her that I don’t mind that it’s the Gay Ear.

“That’s for life though,” Joe pipes up unhelpfully, “You’ll always have that hole in your ear now, so even if you take the earring out everyone is gonna see that you have your right ear pierced and they’re all gonna think-”

“I don’t care if they think I’m gay. What does it matter?”

“Yeah but you’re not gay, and it’s the Gay Ear,” Shane argues, “That’s the point. You’ll end up confusing everyone, and men won’t know what to do when they see you out and about and all that.”

“That feels like kind of a backwards, 90s thing to say, honestly.”

“Nobody’s being homophobic, fuck sake. It’s just the code.”

“Well it’s pierced for life now, isn’t it? What the fuck do you want me to do?” 

“Christ sake,” Jen seizes my shoulder and yanks me back into the seat, “Pass me that ice, Joe, I’ll just do the other side then and you can all shut up annoying me about it, alright?”

“Fucking Gay Ear, who comes up with that shite?” she mutters to herself, and pushes the mostly melted cube to my left lobe so we can start all over again. 

~.~.~.~.~

Afterwards I squeeze into the tiny caravan bathroom to look at myself in the mirror. My ears are furious red, but at least the hoops are even. I think. Jen has given me table salt from Joe’s kitchen cabinet to wash them with, and I do it, I fill one hand with limey water from the taps and pour a random amount of salt in with it. I don’t know what I’m doing, but it's fine because if they get infected I'll just take them out. I’ve never seen another boy with both ears pierced, but that’s fine too, because I’ll just pretend it’s a trend from America that nobody else has heard of yet. 

When I come out Jen turns away from the television screen to look at me.

“Looks okay,” she says.

“Yeah,” I catch sight of the clock behind her and realise that our ear piercing activities sliced only thirty minutes out of this long, empty July afternoon. “So, um, what now?”

“Any more bright ideas?”

I shrug, “I dunno. We could go play tennis?”

“Kids club is at the boat club until six and my sister is always hanging out with those inbred looking fellas at the one in the caravan park,” Shane says, “So no.”

“Joe, do you think your brother could go buy us cigarettes again? We could smoke up by the-”

“Nah man he’s working today.”

“Well the olympics are on so I suppose we could-”

“I couldn’t be bothered with sports,” says Jen, “nor do I want to sit here pretending to care. And now we’ve done all we were meant to do today and there’s nowhere else to hang out…” She looks at me for help as though I’m supposed to know how to keep three bored teenagers entertained through another endless summer day smack bang in the middle of a recession.

I sigh and throw my hands up in defeat, “Well… I dunno. Will we shave my head?” 

Prev // Next

[princess-of-the-corner]

Despite having sad its hard to fit an anti hero into ML I just realized I have an elaborate plot outline where I think it'd work great. The actual premise was "What if Chloe was the main character" but in the context of everything is the same world wise, its just that she got assigned protagonist by the narrative.

Thus rather than being a super hero coming of age story its, an urban fantasy thriller where someone used to having a notable amount of power (Real or otherwise) is suddenly gripped by a foe & circumstances in which their power is useless.

I think the gist was, when Adrien said he wanted to hang out with nicer friends Chloe was less huffy and more "Oh.... Oh I see..." Which kind of low key surprised anyone who knows her cos Chloe does not do understated reactions to anything at all. Ever.

Then she went to the bathroom to be a bit upset in piece before intending to pull herself together when boom, butterfly.

She however did not want to hurt Adrien & resisted which Gabriel wasn't sure what to do about & then he panicked when he saw the source of her intense emotions was Adrien & pulled away. But being new to the Miraculous he kind of fucked it up.

See its a two way connection to an extent & his panic over Adrien's safety bled through & obviously Chloe would why a supervillain would care about Adrien's safety... Unless Hawk Moth was Gabriel.

Gabriel also fears she knows but doesn't quite respect her enough to entirely view her as a threat. His efforts to use Adrien as a proxy to figure out whether she knew ended up failing cos Adrien fumbled his social skills role after Gabriel convinced him to call Chloe & "Sort out this silly dispute." Giving her both a pretense to be angry at Adrien (Only calling out of concern when she got attacked by an Akuma earlier that day because his dad told him to) & set her paranoia OFF.

So now she's convinced Gabriel is Hawk Moth & thinks he at least suspects she knows. Gabriel isn't sure if she knows and his main line of access is in the metaphorical dog house due to hurt feelings & paranoia. What's more, Marinette doesn't trust her & Adrien thinks she's maybe just mad at him, so they don't believe her.

Thus it becomes a story of Chloe like, aggressively seeking information, connection, trying to plot & scheme in ways she both is not used to & hates, because she is not used to being in such a powerless position. At worst she's used to dealing with sort of peers she can steamroll through sheer force but this, this is outside her ballpark & its her life on the line.

honestly though

[mariaofdoranelle]

Will we ever find out what Ansal said to Rowan in chapter 11? I'm too curious to know 🫢

Hey, Nonnie! I didn’t plan to loll I just classified their exchange as ‘unimportant to the plot’ and moved on. It can totally come up later on, but I don’t have specific plans for this.

However, I hate half-told gossip, and I’m that much of a people pleaser, that’s why I wrote:

LAUN - Ch. 11 (Rowan’s Version) - Bonus Scene

Warnings: language, mentions of drinking

Words: 1,2k

The whole time Rowan knew Aelin, she was never the type to sing or dance just because. So whenever he caught glimpses of her murmuring nursery rhymes or dancing to Disney songs with Maisie, he’d capture those moments in his mind, treasure them.

And now, in this overhyped bar he found her in, Rowan was still treasuring it… but in a different way.

Aelin looked like a goddess dancing on that stage.

Her sweet singing voice flooded his senses, and Rowan would take it even if his eardrums bled because of those deafening loudspeakers, but there was nothing sweet about the way she moved tonight.

The song wasn’t overly sexual, but it had so many undertones to it he couldn’t think about them now. Rowan found it very hard to think when Aelin was swaying her hips and playing with her hair like that. It was impossible to take his eyes off her. With every move, the lightning hit her metallic golden fabric—not a shirt—in a different way, outlining the swell of her breasts—

He looked away. Swallowed. Focused on a beer neon sign near him. He would not be weird.

Turns out looking away was harder than he thought.

Rowan looked back in the exact moment Aelin was bending over, sliding her hand over her legs as the song said something about hands and knees. His heart almost leaped out of his throat, his mouth moist and ajar.

This was gonna be the death of him.

When the song dimmed, he heard a loud hoot from his side followed by clapping, making him jerk. For Mala’s sake, he totally forgot he had a date. That had been currently on his side all this time.

“They killed it!” Ansel shouted so he could hear over the loud bar.

Rowan blinked, zooming his vision out of Aelin. They. He totally forgot Lysandra was dancing too.

He didn’t miss the moment Aelin stopped singing and really looked at the crowd, finding Rowan’s eyes. And his date. She shot daggers at Ansel, and that was enough to make him clench his jaw to the point it felt sore. Whatever she was thinking, it wasn’t her problem. Not when she was ‘on the hunt for Mr. Right’, as Fenrys liked to put it.

Lysandra took her by the arm, but Aelin’s murderous stare didn’t leave him until she disappeared into the bathroom.

“It looks like the blonde knows you,” Ansel commented.

Rowan tried and failed to keep a neutral face. “That would be Aelin.”

Her eyes slowly widened. “Holy shit.”

It was still a mystery if Rowan would regret telling Ansel his whole life or not. He liked to keep his life—especially the parts he failed—private, so she might be the only person to ever hear his full version of everything that went down between him and Aelin.

“Rowan, listen to me.” Ansel fully turned him to face her, keeping both arms on his shoulders for emphasis. “We need a damage control plan. Don’t go after her. Don’t apologize. Don’t act guilty. This is a friendly thing, not a date date, okay?”

He sighed, knowing that he had fucked this up already. “I know Aelin. It’s best if I just explain myself and let her be mad until she isn’t.”

“Dude, she won’t buy it.“ Ansel gave him a pointed look. ”You’re already fucked, it’ll be even more sus if you act guilty. You’re out with a friend, there’s no need to apologize for that.

He barely had time to process what she said. Next thing he knew, Aelin was next to him, jabbing and saying things he could barely cope with because Rowan was intoxicated with beer and the sight of golden shiny not-shirts.

Ansel told Aelin the truth about what happened between them, but in a way that made Aelin think it was a platonic date.

And it was platonic, but only because Rowan fucked the date up until Ansel completely lost interest in him. Not that he was interested in her to begin with, but it’d be nice to have minimal dating skills.

To make things worse, Rowan was very close to putting his foot in his mouth when Ansel elbowed him and dragged him until they were out of Aelin’s earshot.

“I’m leaving.”

Rowan froze. “What?”

“That woman.” Ansel pointed at Aelin with her head. “Is clearly distressed because her baby daddy is on a date with someone else, and I’m sure going out with other people won’t fix any of your problems.”

His body stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“Look, I’m all for slapping some ass to take the stress out. But what’s the point of that if the whole time you’ll just wish the ass was hers?” She pointed at the door. “Now I have a smutty book to get home to. Gotta go.”

Rowan was nodding, pulling at his shirt’s cuffs. Ansel was right, but he had a lot of time to really process what she was saying to him. Preferably when the beers were out of his system. “I was such a bad date tonight.”

She gave him a small smile. “I wasn’t expecting much to begin with. But you’re paying for my booze and fries, so it’s already better than half the Tinder dates I had this year.”

Rowan chuckled. “Wait a second.”

He went back to Aelin, just to ask her to talk and explain he wasn’t leaving with Ansel—why would she think that in the first place?

“Is she waiting for you back there?” Ansel asked while Rowan ordered her uber outside.

“Yeah, she said we can talk.”

“Talk?“ Ansel whined. “Again?”

Rowan crossed his arms, but it was hard to hide his amusement. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Don't talk again! Dude, you give her too much space.” She gave him a determined look, looking a lot like how his co-workers did on a military mission, before he became a drill instructor. “You’re gonna make out tonight. Don’t go too far because she’s drunk, but enough to give her something to think about. Tomorrow when you’re both sober, what do you do?”

He frowned, unsure. “We talk—“

“NO! You kiss her again. Go as far as she wants to.” Ansel groaned and ran a hand through her hair. “You’re too much into the talks and all that therapy bullshit. You need action. Just keep going and before she knows it, she’s pregnant with your 5th baby. You can talk when you’re exchanging wedding vows.”

Rowan noticed her driver pulling up, but still snorted and said, “I fear you’re my therapist’s worst nightmare.”

Ansel shook her head in clear disapproval. “If you go to my bar and spend half of the money you’re paying your therapist, I’ll solve every problem you have.”

“I’ll think about it. Thanks for the date.”

“It was fun.” She took two steps towards the uber, then turned back and grimaced. “But I hope you know there won’t be a second one.”

Rowan waved while she left, chuckling. “No need to worry about that.”

Talking to Ansel tonight felt a lot like when Rowan was 17, and his friends would give him a pep talk before he talked to a girl and inevitably screwed things up.

18 years later, his uneasiness felt just the same, if not worse. There was no mistaking the way his insides quivered as he walked back inside to meet Aelin.

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[marvelgurl789fanfics]

Little One (One-Shot #3)

Check out Karra https://www.tumblr.com/marvelgurl789fanfics/733491072755466240/my-dark-urge-tav-karra-a-63-drow-with-ascended?source=share

Check out One-Shot #2 https://www.tumblr.com/marvelgurl789fanfics/734336966341083136/one-shot-2?source=share

A/N: Astarion ascended or spawn version gives me girl dad vides. I have a few other ideas for these one-shots, but if you have any ideas you would like me to write let me know.

warning: talk of child abuse. (but has a happy ending)

Masterlist:

-Little One-

Karra was walking down the streets of the city enjoying the sun with Astarion, and looking for new toys. Many people went by them as she continued their walk, but nobody looked too much like a fun toy. People moved out of their way as they walked not knowing her murderous nature but that he was powerful man. They walked past an ally and heard crying usually it would make her smile to hear such misery, but for some reason her heart broke at the sound. looking into the ally she seen a purple tiefling child looking no more than 7 years old with a broken horn and covering one of her eyes with her hand as it bled. looking over the child it looks as she's been beaten and cut up as her already rags of clothes torn horribly.

"Child what happened?" Karra asked approaching the child walking from Astarion's side to the ally. the Child flinched at her voice and curled up in a ball trying to protect herself. Astarion signed a bit annoyed that his lovely moment was ruined he had the two things he loved most the sun and his mad love. "Darling leave the street rat alone" Astarion said annoyed this child reminded him of his horrible past and he didn't like it one bit. Karra ignored Astarion and kneeled to the child with her red dress pooling around her as she did. She gently reached out her hand to the shaking girl, gentleness that's only given to Astarion and Scratch. The girl slowly looked at Karra still covering one eye as before. "May I look?" Karra asked gesturing to the girl's eye. The girl still shaking but allowed her with a small nod moving her hand away, Karra looked over the girls bruised face. the girl slowly opened the eye or the socket where the eye once was.

Astarion made a face of disgust "Really love, leave it be and let's go". but much to his surprise Karra picked up the child and began carrying the child back the way they came to their home. "I demand you put that thing down right now" Astarion said beyond annoyed, but Karra ignored him and continued on her way home with the child. Time like this he so wished she could be controlled like other spawns, damn tadpole. Astarion complained and demanded Karra to stop and put the child the whole way home but let out an aggravated sign as they reach their door. He followed Karra into their home and to their room to finally the master bathroom, where she finally put the child down. and began to use one of their many magic scrolls to fill their large tub and warm the water. Knowing at this point he can't stop her and left to go brood in his study.

Astarion didn't know how much time had passed, but he was shaken out of his thoughts as the door to his study open. the teifling child looked around in almost anew not noticing Astarion tell he cleared his voice. The child looked startled but calmed, at least she looked clean and patched up, bandages wrapped over her eye wearing one of his old shirts as a dress much to his displeasure. the child just continued to look at him, "what are you doing?" Astarion asked a bit harshly. "The nice lady said I could look around" the child answered no more than a whisper. Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose of course Karra would give the child free run of the place. Asterion looked up as the child approached closer to him. "Are you going to be my father? the lady said she's my new mother?" the child asked. Astarion bit his tongue from just yelling at the child. "Don't you have parents to go home to?" Astarion asked glaring at the child, but the girl just shook her head no now looking down at her feet. "My daddy left, mommy said it was my fault and hit me and told me never come back" the girl said sounding like she was about to cry, as much as he hated it the child words broke his heart.

"Your mother did this to you?" he asked and the girl just nodded yes tears begging to pool in her eyes. Astarion didn't know what possessed him but within a moment he had the girl pulled into his lap hugging her as she cried. rubbing small circles on the girls back the girl crying began to subside to just whimpers. knowing that Karra made her choice of the child is staying there was no use in fighting it she was too stubborn more so than him if possible. "Do you have a name?" he asked with a deep breath of defeat. "Abby" the girl mumbled into his chest. "You two look cozy" Karra smiled as she entered the room to the girl cuddled into her loves chest. Astarion snapped his eyes to her with a bit of an annoyed glare. "Well it appears you already made the choice of her staying" He said trying to sound cold but failed, as Karra moved to the two she noticed the child had fallen asleep on him. "Well we can't have children or our own my love and I don't know how to explain it but my urges aren't telling me to hurt her but to protect her." Karra said sitting by him gently running her fingers in his hair the way she knows he likes. "Well we better get her some proper clothing and bedroom if she is the be our daughter" Astarion replied still holding the sleeping child. "oh you don't want to be her bed she looks so comfortable" Karra teased placing a kiss to his temple while Astarion grumbled.

[geddy-leesbian]

romantic Serrennedy weed smoking scene because I don't want to wait until the stuff that happens before it is done to post it (think the necessary context is just that they're in a fancy hotel and fucked a lot the night before because they'll be apart a while for Luis's tour)

(basically just sweet fluff, but there's one paragraph where Luis talks about a bar fight he got into years before. but it's not angsty at all, he's laughing and bragging)

Baths are one of Leon's guilty pleasures. Leon wasn't one to appreciate life's finer things, so much of the hotel's luxuries were lost on him. But the bathroom? That he very much did appreciate. He was looking forward to the biggest bathtub he'd ever seen. Square, fancy jets, right by a huge window overlooking the city.

Leon soaks, Luis perches on the edge of the tub, bouncing his leg.

“You look like you want to ask something.”

“Would you mind if I smoked in here? Not cigarettes. Pot,” Well then. Leon figured he was going to ask if he could get in the tub with Leon, there's enough room. Pot is a surprise, but not an unpleasant one. It's been a while, but from what he remembers, pot makes Leon all sappy and romantic. “I know you don't like cigarettes.”

“Get in the tub with me,” Leon answers. “And share.”

“Deal.”

Luis leaves for a minute and then comes back with a joint he hands to Leon while he undresses. Leon would have liked to watch him undress (even though he knows what Luis looks like under the clothes, there's still something exciting about the process) but instead he takes a hit and coughs until Luis is already sliding in the tub next to him. He’s kind of embarrassed to be hacking up a lung. He has done this before, really, it's just been a while.

“This is nice,” Luis says, stretching out his legs and taking puffs that don't make him cough like Leon. “I've never been much of a bath person, but I've never been in a bathtub long enough for my legs.”

Leon is a lightweight and starts getting a buzz long before Luis, and slides to the other end of the tub. Luis looks a bit hurt.

“Just wanna look at you,” Leon explains. “You're pretty. I don't tell you that very much. You tell me I'm pretty all the time, I don't say it back. Not sure why, you are. Get why that girl threw her bra at you. Would've done the same thing if I had one. You looked so good up there. And sounded. Fucked up. Fucked up that someone's just allowed to look that hot. You shouldn't be allowed on the streets.”

Luis doesn't say anything, but smiles, very amused by the weed turning Leon into such a chatterbox.

“Perfectly imperfect,” Leon is still going, now staring at the scar on Luis's cheek. “I like the scar on your cheek. I wouldn't like your face as much if you didn't have it. You'd be too perfect, you need a flaw to balance it. How'd you get it? Sorry. That's rude to ask. I'm high.”

“Yeah, I can tell you are. It's okay. I really don't mind talking about it, I won the fight, it's a good story. I would have told you the story sooner if I knew you liked the scar. I've told you how people picked fights with my band. I got this the first time it happened. There was a girl flirting with me, I flirted back. Turned out she already had a boyfriend, who was very drunk. Also very confused. It was hilarious!” Luis succumbs to a giggle fit. He finished the joint, and while it's not hitting him like it is Leon, he's definitely high. “He was pissed I was flirting with his girl, but he was also pissed that I, in his opinion, looked gay. So somehow I wasn't attracted to women and that was bad, but I also was attracted to his girlfriend, which was also bad. He kept flipping between which thing he was mad at, it was so funny. But anyway, somehow it got physical, I really don't remember how honestly, just how it ended. My cheek got cut with a shard of glass. Bled a lot. The scar would probably be much less noticeable if I'd gotten stitches, but I was afraid to go… I broke a bottle on the guy's head. He had a concussion probably, his girlfriend dragged him out to take him to the ER. Was afraid I'd get arrested. So I just hurried to grab the rest of my shit and flee from the scene of the crime with my band, hoping he'd be too drunk to remember and tell the cops anything. Doubt they would have cared about what he did to me, just what I did. But it was okay. Didn't get in trouble, learned a lesson, got a neat scar. Never got into bad fights after. Learned to hit people with mic stands, things wouldn't escalate to emergency room bad if they didn't get close.”

“Really? The guy's head?” Luis nods. “What the hell. My boyfriend knows how to beat people up. That's hot. Badass. Didn't think that actually happened in real life. Thought it was just movie shit. Damn. I love you.”

“I love you too. All the time, but especially when you're high. Wouldn't have guessed you'd be a talker like this.”

“Should buy us a house with a big tub, we'll do this all the time then.”

“It's not like we need to both be in a bath to do this.”

“Yeah,” Leon pouts. “But I like baths.”

“We'll remodel if whatever house we buy doesn't have a tub up to your standards,” Satisfied, Leon goes back to smiling. “So, you were excited for last night, it live up to what you were expecting?”

“Fuck. Sure did. Glad you made me wait, was pretty romantic.”

“So… Up for another round after we're out of the tub?”

“Shit,” Leon wishes he could say yes. He wants as much Luis as possible before he leaves today. But part of why he wanted to soak in the tub so much was that he got a lot of Luis last night, to the point he's sore all over, outside and inside. It's the good kind of sore, like he'd get after working out, but it's still soreness. “Was too good, I'm sore. Might actually die if you do anything to me. I'll suck your dick though.”

[xtrablak674]

The Monsta

[Originally published in my zine Fashion Fag Magazine in April 1996 - edited for clarity]

I looked up wanting and waiting for the warm black hand of unconsciousness to rescue me. The long hot summer had taken on a new meaning as I wondered would I ever escape my bucked tooth, low hanging breast torturer.

"Don't you ever tell no one cuz I'll kill ya."

"Mommy! Momm-e! Mom!"

Up I woke, sweat drenched and trembling. Mom ran into our room her supple ass following behind her.

"What? Baby what!"

"Mom, I had a dream but it wasn't just a dream it really happened last summer."

"Tell me what happened baby, calm down, and tell me."

She took me in her arms and rocked me.

"I dreamed I was in New York with my father, and Pat, his girlfriend was there and she was mad at the jokes I played with him and she made Mooch beat me..."

"But how is she gonna know? We could do just like they did on Different Strokes when Arnold told Willis to beat the pillow and not him"

I laugh. The look in Mooch's eyes are that of a deer staring blankly into the oncoming headlites of a car.

"No... She'll know, she always knows."

"No she won't we'll tell you did it and it really hurt."

"No, she'll kill me!"

Mooch isn't much more then four years older then me and like her mother she isn't to brite. I remember how she had once told me that her she thought this guy had gotten her pregnant from kissing her.

I drop my pants and lay down on my stomach on the bed.

"Mooch, you don't have to do this."

I'm sorry."

There are tears in her eyes.

The pain shoots up my spine as she unfurls this 1/4 inch thick belt on my bared backside.

I scream. I could run but I didn't want Mooch to face the Wrath of Pat.

...she didn't want to do it, she was frightened of Pat and she had to.

Pat beat me in the head with her wooden soled shoe in the bathroom while my father slept in the next room...

"Why?"

I responded to her, telling me I was gonna get a beatin.

"Do you think that shit is funny, your farther is sick and you make jokes like that?"

"But he's my father, and he laughs."

"Damn you, shut up!"

I thought my head was caving in and I wished it would as she pounded this four inch, thick, wide wooden shoe into my head. I put my hands up to protect my exposed scalp. She just pounds harder. I cry out, and she hits even harder and says.

"Keep your motherfuckin mouth shut and yo bettah not cry, or you'll get more."

I look up at the window wishing I could escape like a pigeon flyin free. But the window stares back at me and begins to darken.

I didn't know she stopped, I find myself slumped over the bathtub, in her cramped and dirty bathroom, with the most fantastic headache.

"Get up, I said, get up! Do you want some more? Clean this shit up, and go to your room."

The tears in my eyes had dried up, I could only cry dry tears of blistering pain. I wipe the bits of blood up the best I could and stumble down the hallway and collapse in my bedroom.

Later that night, she creeps into my room, where I share a bed with Mooch, carrying a flashlight and a bag of ice. She shines the lite into my face and stares at me through those thick wide glasses of hers and says.

"Don't you ever tell no one cuz I'll kill ya"

I put the ice on my aching head, the ice melts and mixes with my tears as they fall down my face. I wonder shall I ever escape.

...and she would always pinch me until I bled because I would't sit still on the bed while watching T.V.

"Where was your father when she did this to you?"

"He was either sleep or not there. See feel the lump its still there."

"Why didn't you tell me this when I picked you up?"

I began to cry.

"She said she would kill me."

"That son of a bitch. It's OK baby, momma's gonna take care of it."

She ran down the hall to the phone her large tree trunk-like legs shakin behind her.

"MOTHERFUCKER! WHO THE FUCK THAT BITCH THINK SHE IS LAYIN HER HANDS ON MY BABY? ....I DON'T GIVE A FLYIN FUCK.

TREVOR IS BACK THERE TREMBLIN LIKE HE DONE SEEN A GODDAMN GHOST...TELL THAT BITCH SHE EVER LAY A HAND ON MY CHILD AGAIN SHE'LL DRAW BACK A NUB. I'LL HAVE THAT BITCH SHOT.

YEAH NIGGAH, I AIN'T LETTIN HIM COME OUT TO STAY THERE WITH YO BLACK ASS NO MORE. YA GODDAMN FOOL CAN'T EVEN WATCH YOUR OWN CHILD WITH OUT LETTIN SOME HEATHIN BEAT ON HIM.... SHUT THE FUCK UP I AIN'T HEARIN IT. I'M THE ONLY ONE TO CHASTISE MY CHILD.

NO FUCKIN KNOCKED UP STUPID GOOD FOR NUTHIN HIGH YELLA BITCH!

SLAM.

The phone hittin the receiver all I heard next.

"Trevor, come here baby."

I walked slowly down the hallway to the living room to sit on the couch by Ma

"Sit down, baby. Look, if anyone ever put they hands on you who ain't supposed to you tell me right away, you hear me? Ain't nobody chastising my children except me, no one. OK baby."

"Yeah, Ma."

"Go on back to bed, baby."

She said as she put her thumb in her mouth a habit that even at forty-something she hadn't broken. It was her way of relaxing letting her guard. I went back to my room smiling. My mom had fought the monsta and had won.

[Even the minimal edits I did to this piece as I transcribed it from the PDF was extremely difficult. The story is so vivid to me in nineteen ninety-six and it brings me back to a place that I didn't want to remember.

I am also realizing I never shared this story with my late brother, and now I wonder if it was important to see who his mother was to me, a monster who was now caring for his kids. But that is moot since he's now gone, and I don't see how it would ever be appropriate to share this with her grandchildren who have acclimated to her misinformed views of the world and psychosis.]

[Photo by Brown Estate]

[larcenywrites]

How do you think young!Tony and older Tony would react if his girl unexpectedly got her period in the middle of the night while sleeping and accidentally bled on his bedsheets and even on him/his clothed due to being cuddled up? Specially if like once she wakes up to see all that blood she's like super embarrassed plus super emotional due to period hormones and whatnot plus bad cramps 🥺

Oh they wouldn’t be mad that’s for sure! Young!Tony would freak out only bc it’s a lot of blood and are you like- okay?? Are you alive?? And it’s also on him which he will also freak out about a little but he can deal with that in a second. And you’d have to show him that he can wash out blood from clothes really quick with cold water in the sink/shower lol and he’ll leave you to shower/change clothes while he gets some more sheets. If you start crying he’d panic a lot and would just keep sayings it’s okay and I don’t mind over and over with hands everywhere from your arms to your face, while also using them to usher you to the bathroom! He’ll probably wake up his mom because he doesn’t know what to do with the sheets 🤧 and then she’s like “does she need any medicine or anything??” And he’s like “uh- idk I didn’t ask 🙁” and Maria is just staring at him like “then go ask!!!” He’s trying his best, really 😔 If you’re still hurting when you’re back in the bed, he’ll be torn between wanting to tightly cuddle you and leave you alone. You’ll have to let him know either way, because he’ll just be laying there all pitiful and looking scared 😭

Older Tony is still a little freaked out just because A) it’s a lot of blood and B) it’s low key a little triggering for him to have blood on him ☹️ But more or less he kinda knows what to do, especially if he’s Iron Man by now since he’s not really a stranger to blood anymore. If you start apologizing, he’ll just start shushing you and ushering you into the bathroom. “Honey, it’s okay, don’t worry about it, just go get cleaned up.” He might sound a little short, but it’s just because he’s a little nervous and wants to get cleaned up too 😅 he’ll probably wipe off what he can on the sheets and just throw them away tbh because there’s lots of others in the closet lol, and while you’re in the shower he’s wash it out of your and his clothes with cold water in the sink, and this time he knows to ask if you need any meds or water! If you’re still hurting he’ll probably cuddle into your side regardless if you want him to or not lol

[thewirewitch]

One of those days where I'm just kinda done with my family owning a dog. She makes me tired in an emotional way and I know she doesn't mean to, it's just kinda frustrating...

(rant under the cut. Tw for animal death)

I've had a fear of dogs since I was really young, probably around 4-5 years old, since I went to a relative's house and her dog (who was fully grown, but she said he was a "puppy") jumped up on me and scratched my face (my mom said I was also knocked over, but I don't remember the moment of impact, just him running at me and the aftermath). I used to love dogs before that.

Years later, when I was around 9, my mom decided to get a dog. A miniature shar-pei, to be specific. Neither she nor my dad did any research on them before they bought one (current dog, her name's Winks). They didn't know they are usually aggressive and protective.

I tried to get over my fear of dogs when we got her. At first I was scared, but later on I tried petting her multiple times, but she'd always nip at me.

Then as she got older, and the years went on, she would still try to bite me for certain things. If I handed something to a parent, or they handed something to me, she'd always try to bite my arm. So I stopped directly handing things to my parents, or receiving things from them unless I knew she couldn't get to me.

One ordinary day I had gone downstairs and she went over to me and bit my foot. I locked myself in the bathroom, which was right next to the stairs. She had drawn some blood. I stayed in there for a while.

Another time, it was late at night and my mom was on the couch. I went over to sit beside her, but Winks jumped up on the couch before I could sit down and she bit my thigh. It hurt and bled for several days after that. Not a lot of blood, though. She also used to get kind of alert when I'd go over to my parents before that. I don't stand very close to them when they're seated anymore, even if they want to show me something on a computer.

A few years ago Winks began to follow me really close and growl/squeak if I went upstairs later in the day. I found out she wouldn't do that much if I was carrying something (like a large cup of water, a plate/bowl of food, laundry basket, etc.) so whenever I go downstairs, I always bring something up with me.

More recently I had started to wear shorts. One night when I was going to head upstairs, Winks silently went over to me, even when I wasn't close to either parents, and bit my ankle. Thankfully she didn't bite very hard, but my mom yelled at her when she did, so, she might have bit harder if my mom didn't notice. I don't wear shorts after 6pm downstairs anymore. I always put on a pair of long pants if I "need" too.

Despite all this, despite her singling me out to be super vigilant about, she also paces around downstairs some nights and squeaks because she wants me to go downstairs. Despite the fact my brother had gone on multiple day-long trips away from home, the one time I went on a 4-day school trip to DC she didn't eat anything, and now usually only eats at night when I'm around (which is why she squeaks). I don't get it. If I leave to go with a friend, she squeaks like she would if one of my parents left, but she doesn't react at all if my brother leaves the house.

What got me to type all this is because today she ended up finding a nest of baby bunnies under our back porch. Even though my dad put a fence up around the gaps under the porch, she still went under there and ate as many of them as she could. And it upsets me.

But I can't be mad at her for it. Because that's just her nature. I can't be mad at her about anything she did to me or to anyone or anything else because that's just what her nature is. I haven't even brought up a lot of the stuff she's done that has made me feel some negative way, just the major ones I remember right now.

But I am mad. I'm not mad at her. I'm mad at my parents.

I could say it was my fault she got those bunnies because I didn't put the bamboo stake in the right place when I looked at the fence. I could say it's my dad's fault for not putting the fence up in an effective way to begin with. I could say it's Winks's fault, but it's just her nature.

Or I could say...it's both my parents' fault for even getting a dog to begin with. Their kid, their little girl, me, who was, and still is, terrified of dogs, pleading with them not to get one. I told them not to do it. They knew I was scared of dogs. But they didn't listen. And neither of them did research on shar-pei temperament. And now look what we're strapped with.

I used to wear shoes all the time since I didn't want Winks to hurt my feet in some way. I don't hug my parents as much as I used to because I'm scared Winks will come after me if I did. My family can't go on day-long trips because Winks stresses out when we're not home. We once came home to our front doorframe all chewed-up on one side. We can't visit family members without bringing her with us. She's chewed up the doorframe of one of my uncles' guest room door because she was left in there alone. My uncles don't want us bringing her over because she's not socialized. So we don't visit out extended family much anymore unless one of us stays behind (usually me and my brother). One of our neighbors has to make sure their kids don't get close to our fence or else Winks would bark at them and scare them. My mom had to put a tarp around our fence so Winks can't bite any hands that may slip between the boards. My parents and brother have had to throw multiple dead animals out of our backyard because Winks would hunt them. My dad once had to beat a small racoon with a wooden board because Winks had picked a fight with it. We can't leave our trashcans on the floor or leave me and my brother's bathroom door open without something in front of it because she's eat out of the trashcans and she'd lick things in the bathroom she really shouldn't. I've had an argument with my brother over this.

I'm just tired, man. And I know whenever Winks passes, I'll be sad. Despite EVEREYTHING, I'm going to be sad. Whether it be because my parents will be sad, or guilt that I didn't try harder to bond with her, I know I'm going to cry. There have been a few times where I thought she was dead and it made me feel dread. Despite it all I still have some semblance of care for her. So even when she does pass, there won't be a sense of relief. I won't be able to go "it's over" and just move on.

I still talk to her. I still give her ice cubes and let her outside if she wants to go out. I still care about her, and sometimes I wish I didn't, and sometimes I wish I cared more.

And all this just makes me feel emotionally exhausted.

If I could go back in time at points throughout my life and change things, one of the things I would do is make sure my parents didn't get her. I'd tell them all the trouble we'd go through, and that they should get any other kind of dog than a shar-pei. Tell my mom that the cuteness isn't worth it, and to find another kind of dog she thinks is cute, and that's actually sociable. Maybe we could have gone on more trips. Maybe our family could be a little closer. Maybe my anxiety towards animals wouldn't be so bad.

But that's not what happened. And now my parents learned from their mistake, and brought the rest of us with them.

[dyke1]

I managed to fall back asleep but I think I was having a nightmare ugh and it was just my luck that my mom had gone to the bathroom at the same time cause she started yelling at me for waking her up?? I know she's not really herself ESPCIALLY at night maybe she was sleepwalking idk?????? and I was also definitely out of it cause her screaming woke me up and i started crying and begging her to believe me WTF ❓️❗️I think I know what I was dreaming about because I woke up nauseous which always happens when I have a dream about that stupid person and I think it just struck me cause I told! one! person at school ehat happened to me which was the counselor who didn't believe me and sometimes I dream about her too and I think tgat frustration qnd anger from not being believed just bled from my nightmare into real life and just getting startled like that freaked the hell out of my like heart was literally pounding out of my chest I'm still so angry I'm shaking I don't know if I should bring it up to her tommorow I know she'll either have forgotten what happened tommorow or not realized she did anything or just get mad at me/ not believe she was yelling at night but I don't want to relive that man I'm just so angry right now I feel sick I just hope I don't wake up again cause that was embarrassing as hell

[eemoo1o-animoo]

Word count: 1.8k (love how little drabbles go haywire)

TWs: Cursing and sexually implicit trauma (vague and brief, but still included), Alois referring to himself as "in love" with Claude (one sided Dadlaude go 'whoo'...)

Notes: Suppose this is Coattails adjacent (with the bath because of course @princess-adrienne owns baths... she owns everything that's essential to living in a nobleman's Victorian life. Of course, this is simply what happens when one invests in stocks.) – Maybe I'll put it in my "Trancytails" notes... (it's not actually called that, you know).

There's a reason why I'll never write in Alois' POV ever again, and this is it.

Alois laid back in the porcelain bathtub with his eyes closed. The water was hot, and he was sure he would leave the bathroom, later, with parts of his body sensitive and red, in perfect, square shapes that left him completely bicoloured.

Claude, his pesky stallion of a butler, was – in every sense of the word – absolutely and irrefutably clueless when it came to his basic comfort. Alois wasn't a fool; sure, he gave him the benefit of the doubt more often than not, but sometimes it really got to him when every bath was near-scalding and he'd have to demand it be redrawn, or when food tasted as bland as mud or as salty as cock.

It angered him when Claude only ever remembered to light the fireplaces because of routine, and not because he'd seen Alois shivering over an hour before. Without his order, Alois wondered if Claude would get anything done at all.

Hell, he didn't even need to do it himself if he really didn't want to – just make sure that it was done. Alois drew in a breath sharply through his nose, stinging eyes flying open and staring up at the ceiling.

"I am a demon," Claude would remind him, "and I will make one hell of a feast out of you."

Then, he'd bend down, and all anger would melt away like butter. Why was he ever so mad, and how could he have been so? Claude was, in every sense of the word, perfect. He was a demon, after all – an all-mighty being, contracted to him of all people.

Alois could have grinned in triumph at himself, for he'd beaten the very worst of the worst. And, with Claude by his side, he was even more unbeatable. His Claude was an all-powerful demon, contracted to him and only him, and as such he was loyal to only him.

To no one other than him – not his former father, or to Luka, or even to Jim. Him. Alois Trancy.

(Jim was a coward, he could have never faced up against a demon without deserting Alois in his stead – after all, that was what he'd done in the face of that monster, and monsters were worse than demons.)

But, Claude – despite his apparent perfection – was so, so clueless. Honestly, how many hints did a boy need to give to his fa– demon? Were demons so naturally clueless, that it made dumb old monsters seem smart?

It was absolutely baltic outside – in the negatives, Hannah had said, rubbing her hands together like an absolute, condescending bitch, as if Alois wasn't meant to know what the word 'cold' meant – and Claude had drawn Alois a bath and left the window open as he promptly left.

As much as he wanted Claude's absolute attention, Alois rarely had him stay the entire time he bathed. For one, Jim wouldn't let him. There was still a sliver of him left, gripping onto his paper-thin integrity until it bled, and – two – Claude did an awful job.

An efficiently awful job. An awfully efficient job.

The job had to be done, and despite his niggling, suppressed horror, Alois basked in the reality that Claude had to do this as per his loyalty and contract to him. On the other hand, Claude's deft hands were firm and precise and the lack of ardour behind every movement – every touch – made Alois frosty and bitter and sick.

Strong and efficient touches, as though he was nothing more than sticky dung on the underneath of his shoe in need of scrubbing off. And there it was, again – just like that: that stingy-eyed feeling that so often came to him at the most unwonted of times, plaguing his thoughts like a cold, steel dagger.

It's cold out, Alois seethed to himself, fending off a bubbly, bitter laugh. And he'd left me here in a bathtub of water with the window open! Then, he did laugh. The fool!

Was it all a test? As the wintry air chilled the bathroom and the incessant twittering of robins and the faint chittering of squirrels filled his ears, Alois felt his fists clench. He pushed himself back upright from the opposite end of the bath.

For quite some time, now, Alois was able to reach the opposite end of the bathtub with his feet. In the beginning – and even now – he'd slip, because Claude took his time to scrub the porcelain smooth in the same fashion he did when Alois would finally call for him to do his job.

Was he really the same as a stupid piece of porcelain? Damn – Claude really knew what to do to get under Alois' porcelain skin. That is, if he even cared to know at all.

The fool. The enigma. The...

"Claude!" It was absolutely freezing in the room by now. Alois was full of prickly goosebumps and his hair stood up. Even the water started to shiver. "Get your arse in here! Claude!"

Claude entered so debonairly, it was as though Alois had only whispered his servile name. The steam from the water misted his glasses, but – eerily – he stayed still, and did not remove them to clean the lenses.

"Yes, your highness?" he asked, in the near-baritone drone that had Alois lassoed like a bull to an American westerner. If the room wasn't frosty enough as it was, it most certainly was now.

"You left me with the window open, Claude," Alois smiled sweetly, but his tongue was sharp and his jaw was set. "It's bloody freezing."

Claude did not reply, Alois realised – like he had many times before – because it was not a question. Claude did not answer to statements. It was an irritant little fact of life. And, even more aggravatingly, Claude still hadn't cleaned his glasses, so Alois couldn't even see him staring at him in that usual icy way of his; Alois didn't even feel the searing consciousness of exhibited nudity around him, anymore.

He wasn't sure if this was good. It angered him that he didn't know – and it angered him that he couldn't even confide in Claude about it.

Damn demon.

"Have you lost your damn mind?" Alois asked, suddenly. "And fix your glasses, for god's sake!"

"Not since the day I contracted myself to you, your highness." A bow, slight and pledging, as if to give the act of sincerity before he got to work cleaning his glasses.

Claude didn't do rhetorics, either.

"Quit trying to romance me, you idiot," a bittersweet, defensive testament that he knew Claude would never truly listen to – Claude often heard more than what he listened to, and it was an abhorrent downside to his perfection – "Why did you leave the window open?"

Claude gave him that usual golden glare of his through his crystal-clear trifocals as he pushed them up his own perfectly proportioned ivory nose with his egg-white (Claude called them 'egg-white') gloved fingers, and suddenly the water felt extra transparent, despite its film of bath-oils and floral soap.

"Do you require me to recount this afternoon's events, your highness?" It was funny, really, how Claude did not 'do' rhetorical questions until he asked them himself. Alois answered with a glare that was a piteous attempt at matching the well-practiced severity of his. "Very well, then. You had informed me the water was too hot," Claude stated, in his usual all-work-and-no-play-makes-me-extremely-irresistible demeanour, "but insisted in entering the water anyway. I'd merely intended on making your experience more pleasurable. Was I wrong to do so?"

And there it was: the facade of non-human innocence that never failed to make Alois' heart swell with longing and self-made remorse, no matter how hollow it really was. In that brief moment of faux belief – no matter what the actual extent of Claude's intentions were, because he was in the knowing of its variability – he'd be bright with glee at the prospect that Claude, his Claude, was so trying, holding his best interests to whatever constituted as his heart.

"Well – then – then do better next time! I'm freezing my balls off, in here, and you just let it happen!" It was a pitiful attempt at reprimanding him, now that his brain was mushy with sympathy and love. "Do you want me to catch a cold, or something?"

"Very well, your highness," another bow, only this time his arms remained pinned to his sides. That usually meant he wanted to leave, because the scene in hand no longer had any value to him. "Do you require me to close the window to be on vent, your highness?"

"Yes," Alois said. He allowed it to be on vent because he didn't want the piercing scrutiny of Claude's irritated gaze at the prospect of needing to keep an eye on any future damp that was to blacken the bathroom walls and dirty the fine paint job that he'd applied himself so many moons ago. Claude was funny, like that.

"Is that all?" he asked when the chilly breeze was lessened, but Alois could still hear everything that was still out there.

"You can do something about those birds," he said, not really thinking. He often lamented in great passion that the copious flock of wild birds around the estate was ridiculously agitating, but Claude had never really been ordered to do anything about them – only ever yelled at – because Alois had seen him go out of his way to feed them and let them perch on him as though he was their own personal forest. "They're getting on my nerves."

There was only so much jealousy a boy like him could hold for such vermin.

"Yes, your highness," the first agitated inflection of the evening, how generous. A low bow that almost had him in a perfect ninety-degree angle. Alois nearly felt unnerved by it. "I will see to it that the birds are silenced for you to enjoy the rest of your leisure in peace."

Alois fingered the surface of his bathwater for a moment, mulling over his dear demon's loyalty and how... flat he was, all the darned time. He had to give him something – anything – Alois needed it. He pined for it. Anything. Just a sliver of hope that would tell him, "you will make a tasty meal, and I genuinely mean that". Not... ugh, whatever Claude mistook for compassion.

Ah, but wasn't that the harping-on of a fool? An in-love fool?

Alois splashed Claude with some of his bath water. From his positional bow, he still managed to glare up at him. Then, he stood and – fixing his droplet-streaked glasses – asked, "Is that all you require of me, your highness?"

It didn't feel like a question, this time round.

"Fine," Alois laid back in the porcelain tub with a huff and, closing his eyes for just a moment, he gestured at Claude to depart. "You can go, I know you want to."

He listened to the door click shut. Part of him really wished he hadn't.

Just washed my hair and I’m about to go out in 18°F weather #thriving