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dratbatlaundrymat · 9 days
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dratbatlaundrymat · 12 days
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we've done it again folks
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dratbatlaundrymat · 12 days
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dratbatlaundrymat · 12 days
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dratbatlaundrymat · 12 days
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dratbatlaundrymat · 1 month
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THANKS FOR THE TAG
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I have nobody to tag so if you want to feel free to do
Okay, I wanted to try my hand at one of these!
Picrew tag game! Make yourself using this picrew!
Here's mine!
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Feel free not to participate to those I've tagged:
@fossilizedpr0tienpowder @forestshadow-wolf @bringinsexybackk69 @axelaxolotl09 @eiraeths @resident-idiot-simp @meowmeowriley @thejacketscloset @the-starry-raven @myriadblvck
(also you can participate even if you're not tagged! Go wild!!!! <3)
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dratbatlaundrymat · 1 month
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dratbatlaundrymat · 1 month
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Sensational as always. I love their writing souch istg. This man was going to take you to an early grave. "The worst part was that you were going willingly, letting him take your hand and gently help you down into the six foot deep hole you'd spent the last five years trying to dig yourself out of" is fucking immaculate.
For the Record
Pairing: Ex-husband John Price x GN!reader
TW//CW: Mention of manipulation, John trying to change, slight suggestiveness, nothing serious though.
A/N: I do plan on making this a mini-series but I'm getting surgery so I'm not sure when I'll be able to make a part two and put out.
Words: 3,185
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This was possibly the worst idea in your entire life. You've known fools who have made better decisions.
But it's John. And it's you. Who are we really kidding here? Five years of being divorced and you haven't even been on a single date with someone else.
So when you conveniently ran into each other and he suggested it, you couldn't say no.
What are you even doing with your life? You groaned, pulling at your face in stress. "For the record this is self destructive." You wandered your house, making sure everything was clean and in place, no dust or cobwebs lingering in corners. He didn't need to know how long it'd been since someone last came over. He'd call you a hermit again.
"For the record I am aware of that. Come on, don't go crying to your mom like a child when this inevitably breaks your heart. Again. She doesn't want to hear about it." It's always been a bad habit of yours to talk to yourself, John always found it amusing.
Adjusting the pillows on your couch for the fifth time your eyes caught a glimpse of an old stain, bringing back one too many memories for your liking. Skin, all skin, laying like a French girl waiting to be painted, or Princess Leia in her stupid bikini. But there was no bikini, just John and his stupid hat.
"Enough of that." You nearly had to slap the thought out of yourself. "I'm screwed."
No, no. You weren't screwed. All you need to do is keep your composure. Remember why this didn't work out last time. Keep yourself together. Don't ever let him know you miss him. There would be no recovery from that.
What was the reason you agreed to this again?
He lied last time. He manipulated you. You were too young to know better. Now you do. All you  have to do is use each of his answers to these 'questions' he wanted to ask you as a reminder of what he'd done. Keep your head out of his hands.
He did seem remorseful for what he did. He actually apologized. Promised things would be different now. He said he missed you. "Stupid sympathetic creature." You cursed at yourself.
You couldn't even lie and say you didn't miss him too. His warmth, his bear hugs, how he'd listen to you and ask about your day. How he'd take an interest in you. No one else asked about your day. Or gave such damn good hugs. Not to mention kisses...
The questions will make one thing clear. How you've grown and changed. How you've grown apart. The person you are now probably isn't even compatible with him anymore. Too different. Not a good fit for who he was when you were together. You had boundaries now. Right?
The knock on your door had you nearly jumping out of your skin with nerves. He was here. Like, actually here. And he knocked. He knocked on the door that used to be the door to his house. That must have felt weird.
Opening the door to your ex husband standing there felt both like a dream and a nightmare.
"Hey." His voice was a little rougher than it used to be, probably from more yelling and smoking those damn cigars of his. You did have to admit it was almost hotter now.
This man was going to take you to an early grave. The worst part was that you were going willingly, letting him take your hand and gently help you down into the six foot deep hole you'd spent the last five years trying to dig yourself out of.
"Hey.." You forced your eyes to stay on his face, staring at his nose so you wouldn't have to make eye contact. You'd probably strangle yourself if you let your eyes wander over his broad shoulders and strong but soft torso and got caught. Keep your eyes on his face. Look at the cute mole on his nose. Look. At. It.
"What do you think?" He asked as he stepped into your house. Stepping past the threshold of what had been protecting you from all outside intrusion. Allowing the man who hurt you to walk right back into your life.
As he stepped past you, you couldn't stop your eyes from wandering over his back, drinking all of him in again. You hadn't gotten to the last time you saw him when he suggested this whole thing. He seemed more grown now, despite being the same height and roughly the same size, he just seemed different, more mature.
This whole thing was just to remind yourself you didn't want him back in your life. The last goodbye. This was how you were going to let the last fragments of yourself that still cared about him go. They were the only thing that was going to be left in that grave.
"Uh... About what?" You weren't even paying attention, not sure if you'd missed something he'd said. Stupid move to zone out like that really.
John chuckled, the sound filling your stomach with butterflies, a heat uncharacteristically rising to your face. You hated butterflies. Moths were superior, eating clothes was cooler than eating carcasses, and tasting with your feet was weird. "My flannel. You gave it to me, remember?"
"Oh, yeah. Anyways." You lead him to the kitchen, dishes set out haphazardly on the table that you'd gotten distracted from fully and properly plating. "I was going to set the table, placemats and all. But that seems a bit too fancy for what this is. I don't know what I was thinking. That's weird for the setting."
You went to grab the 'fancy' plates from the table, along with the placemats, but John stopped you, leaning his chest against your back he gently put his hands on yours, pulling them away from changing the tableware. "Leave it, love. Reminds me of a first date."
The feeling of his chest pressed against your back had you fully straightening your posture very quickly, almost as if he'd electrocuted you with his unexpected touch, accidently headbutting him in the process. 
He groaned, taking a step back and clutching his nose. "I'm so sorry." You fret in a panic, raising your hands to try and remove his to check on his poor nose, but you stopped yourself from touching him.
"It's fine, dear. I should have remembered your reactions to suddenness from when we were together." Sniffing, he pulled his hands away from his face. "Not bleeding. Just a good bonk, no harm done." He reassured, ruffling your hair, making you glare softly at him. He knew you hated that. Revenge, you suspected.
"Even still, I'm sorry." You apologized again, shuffling on your feet awkwardly. This wasn't going well. Definitely for the best.
"You have anything to drink? Maybe that would help." You weren't sure if he meant it'd help the pain or to help smooth out some rough edges between the two of you. Probably the ladder. You were tense, it didn't take a perceptive individual to take notice of that. However, you didn't drink anymore, so that would be pointless. He didn't know that though.
"Um." You had to think for a moment. "I don't drink anymore, but I might have something. Scotch? I think a friend left it here one time."
"Yeah, scotch works." He smiled softly at you, his crows feet becoming more visible. Damn he was cute. Was it derogatory to call a man of his caliber cute? Who cares.
"Okay, I'll go see if I can find it." You walked away from him a little too quickly for it to be casual, walking out into the garage to check for the scotch hiding in the fridge. Probably. You weren't actually sure this scotch existed.
By some miracle the scotch did exist, tucked safely in the back of the mostly empty garage fridge. You didn't even recognize the brand of scotch that was on the bottle, hopefully it wasn't terrible. Even if it was, that could be well deserved.
Walking back into the house you held the bottle of scotch a bit triumphantly. "There's a good chance this scotch is terrible." You placed it down on the counter, moving to grab him a glass.
"I'd settle for drinkable, love." He really needed to stop with the pet names. Your poor heart and constitution couldn't handle them. Not when his voice was so damn hot. It was criminal. Really.
"I make no promises, this friend of mine doesn't have a reputation for good taste." You poured him half a glass, was that too much?No. He could hold his alcohol well.
Not drinking for so long has completely skewed your ability to measure how much was too much.
Turning around you brought his glass over to the table, noticing something you had definitely not put there. "You lit candles?" You set his glass down by his plate, it was at the same spot of the table he used to eat. You hated that you'd retained that knowledge this whole time. And that you were still accommodating to that preference of his.
"I thought it'd help set the mood." He sat down at the table, taking a sip from the scotch. You took his lack of spontaneous vomiting as a good sign.
"What's 'the mood'?" You walked away from him, pulling dinner out of the oven. You really cooked a homemade dinner for your ex husband. Maybe you had lost your mind. Not to mention it was one of his favorite dishes. It was also really easy to make. Shepherd's pie. Not a personal favorite.
"Hopeful?" He chuckled, smiling at you again. The shepherd's pie did not go unnoticed by him. He noticed anything and everything. Damn his job. Damn him.
You didn't say anything, sitting down at the table before you served him, putting food on his plate for him, the proper amount for him. Old habits never dying and all that shit.
His smile softened towards you, watching your brow furrow in self frustration. He thought you were being really cute, all nervous and trying to keep walls up despite all your actions being to try to make him comfortable.
"Your hair is different. It suits you. I like it. Do you like it?" He refrained himself from touching your hair. It had changed in style over the five years of being out of contact. He felt this style suited you better, it was more you than anything you had while you were married to him. He'd never meant to control you the way he did.
"Oh, yeah. I do. I've had it like this for a while. You really like it?" You absentmindedly moved to touch your hair, fiddling with it. You didn't even think about what he might think of it. Moving past doing things because you thought it would please him. You were working on doing things for yourself. Something a self help book said to do.
"I wouldn't bring it up if I was just going to lie to you. It's cute." He seemed sincere enough. Maybe he did actually like it.
You watched a bit anxiously as he took the first bite of his food, hoping beyond hope you remembered how to make it how he liked. Closing his eyes he let out a soft hum of approval. It was good. He liked it. He wasn't gagging at least. Though he'd never gagged on your cooking, even when you burned soup. He still ate it and asked for seconds. He was always one to spare your feelings.
"It's good?" You couldn't stop yourself from asking, cursing the part of yourself that still required his approval and praise. Praise sounded really good right now. His voice praising you.
You needed to get out more, reconnect with nature. Maybe that would fix you. If not you could always simply choose to become a weird witch lady in the forest and never return to society.
"Of course. Always is." Something in his eyes told you he knew what you wanted from your question. "Best shepherd's pie I've ever had." He indulged you, taking another bite. If you weren't careful you'd find yourself married to him again without a single question asked. He couldn't have you again. Not after last time.
"Doubtful." He traveled a lot, ate a lot of different places. You were sure he'd found one better somewhere.
John took a deep breath, deciding not to argue on this. If you didn't want to believe him you didn't have to. He'd only done this to himself. Trust needed to be earned, not given. "So, how's work?" He changed the subject.
"Work? It's um... well it's work." You'd served yourself a much smaller portion, and it still felt like too much. You'd barely had three bites.
"That good huh?" He chuckled, trying to keep things light between you. He of all people knew how much work could suck sometimes. 
He did what he did because he was one of the few people who could. Got his hands dirty to keep people like yours clean. To try to make sure the people he cared about wouldn't be the next dead and bombed people on the news. He wasn't perfect. He knew that. His work had some fatal flaws. He knew that.
Better him doing it than someone who would follow orders blindly. Someone who was willing to go too far. Do too much. Make wrong decisions easily. Hurt the wrong people. John knew who was and wasn't his enemy.
"It's really not so bad. Keeps me busy. Helps me get out of the house. I like my coworkers. Pay is decent too, keeps me afloat well enough. Sometimes things get a little tight." Why did you admit that? He's going to get in, he's going to use that against you. Get you hooked on his leash again.
He looked at you for a moment, thinking before he began. "You struggle with money? If I would have known-"
"I can handle it. I don't need charity. Not your responsibility." You put an end to his offer before he could give it. You did not need something chaining you to him. Didn't need that reliance.
"Alright. I'll let you handle it." He backed down, trying not to put you on edge. He wasn't the same man he once was. His views on things had changed. Realized you only worked as a person when you didn't feel trapped or controlled. He wouldn't try to control you again.
Aside from getting back into your life that is.
"Thank you. Because I can handle it. Promise." You missed when your thoughts were wandering, that was more fun than this tension.
"If you came to me I'd always help you. Give you an easier life. I tried to give you an easier life, took care of everything for you. Made it so you didn't even need a job." He knew he shouldn't have said it as soon as the words left his mouth.
"It's depressing not having a job, I wanted a job. Staying at home and not working was only fun and enjoyable when you were home. Otherwise it was terrible for my mental health. I need to be doing something." He should have understood that aspect about you better, since he was the same way.
"All I wanted was to give you more time for your hobbies, you always complained you were too tired after work. All I wanted was to feel like I was providing for you. Like I was doing something nice for you. That I was working hard to provide for you so you could just relax." His intentions weren't rooted in your purposeful destruction, even still, it hadn't been a good situation for you.
"I'm not a self motivated person. I need something to do, a routine. It was fine when you were home because you would keep me accountable, but when you were away all I'd do was rot and wait and hope you'd come home alright. It wasn't healthy for me." In the middle of being at a standstill it's easy to feel guilt for not progressing. Especially when you were raised to work.
"I'm sorry." Apologies came from him so easily now. He really had matured. He would have never taken accountability for his part in things before. 
It wasn't all his fault. 
Still, between the two of you he was the one who should have known better.
"It's alright." Forgiveness was something you'd found to be quite freeing in recent years. Easier to move on from things. Not dwell on them so severely. This was different from being a pushover. You weren't just lying down and taking it. No, you held the control this way.
Looking down at his plate then your own you took a deep breath, sighing softly. You really weren't hungry enough to finish your food but you hated to waste. "Need help with that?" He took notice, because of course he did.
"Sure." You switched your plate with his, giving him his fork and taking your own. Standing up you took his plate to rinse it off and put it in the dishwasher. Starting to clean up dinner while he minimized waste for you. A human garbage disposal is what you used to call him teasingly.
Once he was done he brought your plate and put it in the dishwasher, getting to work on washing dishes while you put the food away. All too quickly slipping into old routines. This was not good. Keep your guard up.
When everything was clean and put away you refilled his scotch before you both migrated to the living room. The couch felt too intimate so you opted for the floor, resting your back against the couch.
This felt too much like your first date. But you knew that was the point, a do-over of sorts.
But this was different. It had to be different. That whole life was a lie.
You stared at him for a long time, he was sitting on the couch, his drink in his hand resting on his knee. He stared back, keeping eye contact. Damn this was not going to go well. His big soft eyes could not lure you into caring for him again.
That was a lie. They definitely could.
"So, we're asking thirty six questions? Is that what you said? Are we coming up with the questions or are they predetermined?" Finally you looked away from him, crawling over to push the button on the electric fireplace to turn it on, then immediately regretted it. Too romantic.
"Predetermined, love. I have a list for us to go through." If he kept up with the sappy pet names you were sure you were going to be rolling on the floor like a dog for him, begging to be loved and given attention again by the end of the night.
This can still work out for you. Keep your head on straight. Don't fall for his cheap tricks. This is still the man who manipulated you, even if he's apologized and asked for penance. If he wanted to, he could do it again. Don't let him.
"So then, should we begin?"
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dratbatlaundrymat · 1 month
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everytime
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dratbatlaundrymat · 1 month
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smut is like foot, it stinks.
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dratbatlaundrymat · 1 month
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DUDE I JUST READ THROUGH THEM ITS PERFECT OMG. YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD. THA K YOU SO MUCH FOR ANSWERING MY PRAYERS 🙏🙏🙏🙏
Imma need someone to make a slowburn, text romance story with Vox x reader. Pronto. Like they're alive and he's in hell and continues to talk to reader because omg I can contact a living being yk? Like I need the funny, fluffy, text fic in my hands rn.
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dratbatlaundrymat · 1 month
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Imma need someone to make a slowburn, text romance story with Vox x reader. Pronto. Like they're alive and he's in hell and continues to talk to reader because omg I can contact a living being yk? Like I need the funny, fluffy, text fic in my hands rn.
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dratbatlaundrymat · 1 month
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How I’m imagining Vox on the news…
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dratbatlaundrymat · 1 month
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ALASTORRRRRR 😝😝😝🍓🍓🍓🍓‼️‼️‼️‼️
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dratbatlaundrymat · 2 months
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“english isn’t my first langua—“ say no more.
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dratbatlaundrymat · 2 months
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This def is what Vox felt when Alastor got his ass beat.
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