cocaine face

Hi everyone some more the Loud House fan-art this time it is based-off……….. @captaindarko !!! 

Please do take a look at his fan-fiction The Prodigal Lincoln and its sequel !!! Be prepare for darkness and triggers…. most of all…..SUSPENSE!!!

If you like the romance, suspense, drama, dark horrors…..and YANDERE o you are in for a TREAT!!! ENJOY!!! 

Also still working on the style to use for the Loud House… Yes there are definitely many great artist drawing their own versions of the Loud House and I could use some advice from them or anyone about the style I should use for this. Please do comment, like and re-blog :D

Saudade: Ch24


Laying sprawled out on the bathroom floor, covered in your own blood, vomit, and sweat, honestly wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Actually, it was probably a million times worse, but the shock had set in such a long time ago that you were numb to everything right now, especially after Josh had proceeded to yell at you and drop you back on the tile. So here you were, bleeding to death and scrambling down the hallway back to the nightstand where you hoped and prayed your phone would still be waiting for you. It felt like your entire core was set on fire, your stomach crushed, and there was the most miserable migraine still ringing in your head. You wouldn’t think it would be this bad of a miscarriage in the first trimester, but then you thought about all the weed and alcohol, and you couldn’t help but own up to the fact that it was all your fault. You brought this upon yourself.

Relief surged through you as soon as you reached your phone, snatching it off the bed stand, your hand uncontrollably shaking. You fumbled to unlock it, and then scroll through your contacts, trying to think straight. Would Jenna help you? Over Tyler’s dead body. You didn’t want to bother Brendon, but he seemed like your last chance. Josh had just abandoned you there, leaving you to die, not giving a shit whether or not you’d be okay. Thinking over it, you shouldn’t really be one to blame him. He had every right to be as angry as he was. You grit your teeth, trying to hold back the unbearable pain, and then called Brendon. It took several rings before you heard him pick up. “You okay?” he answered groggily, probably just as hungover as you were. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“I’m,” you took a deep breath and tried to recover, barely choking out each word. “On. Floor. Bedroom.”

“Hey,” his voice softened. “You don’t sound too good. You alright?”

“Dying,” you sputtered out. “Fuck. Bleeding.”

“Oh god. Bleeding? Dying? I’ll be right there,” he hurriedly replied. “Shit, I’m on my way.” He hung up the call, leaving you groaning on the ground, wishing more than anything you could just die already.

When Brendon finally came barging into your house, which partially concerned you because Josh hadn’t locked the door but you were also thankful for so you didn’t have to move much anymore, a rush of relief washed over you. “I’m in here!” you had to call out, and you heard the familiar footsteps, moment of silence in order to let the shock set in, and then the cussing.

“What the fuck,” you heard him breathe out. He followed the trail of blood from the bathroom out to the hallway and to the bedroom, then walked through the door, gaping at you. “Oh. My. God.”

“Stop staring and help me already,” you grumbled. “I’m sick of conversation.”

“Yeah, I’m on it,” he nodded quickly. “What do you need? Hospital?”

“No,” you immediately shook your head. “Just meds. Lots of pain killers. They should be in the cabinet. And uh, I don’t know. Maybe a bath. New clothes.”

“Don’t worry,” he reassured. “I’ll take care of you.”

And as always, he did. Brendon had no hesitation in getting you what you needed. He supplied you with a cup of water and several extra strength Tylenol, as well as some left over pasta he found in the fridge because he insisted you needed to eat something while you hydrated. He then managed to clean up the mess in the bathroom and a bit on the carpeting and bedroom floor, running the tub full of warm water and then carrying you there and slowly undressing you, constantly asking you if you were alright or felt better. It was humbling for you to be taken care of like a small child, being fed and washed and dressed helplessly, but for some reason, with Brendon, it felt comforting. Normally when you were sick and Josh had to take care of you, you felt embarrassed or as if a burden to him, but with Brendon, it was charitable and loving. It reminded you of the morning you first remembered Brendon.

It felt like just yesterday. Waking up with another miserable hangover, being fed and taken care of, given meds, then washed, treated with love through and through. That was the first memory you could recall with Brendon, when you woke up and first locked eyes with him, wanting so desperately to know who he was. Now here you were, a million mistakes, a miscarriage, and a now angry boyfriend later, wound up in the same situation, Brendon shoving away everything in his life to put you first and make sure you were okay. It seemed like he was always there for you, a shoulder to lean on when you needed it most, a number to call when you were lonely, a drug to cure all your problems.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“Hmm?” Brendon raised an eyebrow. He had carried you to your room, with you now dressed in a large shirt and some underwear, cuddling you and wrapping you in a blanket on your bed.

“I just wanted to thank you,” you shrugged, raising your head from leaning on him and looking him in the eyes. “For everything you’ve done for me.”

“There’s no need to do that,” he reassured. He brushed your hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear, giving a soft smile. “I do all of this because I love you.”

A pang of guilt rested in your stomach. “What about Sarah?” you barely whispered. “What are you going to do about her?”

“Look,” he faltered, feeling uneasy. “That’s different. Alright?”

“I’m sure,” you mumbled, resting your head on his chest and thinking over it all. The silence in the room was unbearable, the ringing in your ears making you want to scream, Brendon refusing to say anything in response. You were truly alone now. Sure, Brendon was here at the moment, but as soon as Sarah would get off vacation, he would go running back to her. Tyler already hated your guts, and probably wouldn’t let Jenna get anywhere near you after he had found out your true intentions. And Josh. He loathed you completely. You still remembered him standing in the doorway of the bathroom, telling you how he wanted to marry you, how you had ruined everything, how he couldn’t believe you would do something like this.

There was a knock on the door and you jolted upright, Brendon just as startled as you were. “Who might that be?” he asked cautiously.

“It might be Tyler,” you sighed. “Coming to kick my sorry little ass.”

“Don’t say that,” Brendon narrowed his eyes. “Hey, you stay here. Alright? Take it easy. No stress. I’ll see whoever’s at the door.”

“Brendon,” you swallowed uncomfortably. “That might not be such a good idea.”

“It will be fine,” he insisted. “You stay here. Try to get some sleep.”

As wary as you were about everything being just fine, it wasn’t like you had the energy to fight Brendon anyways. You still felt miserable despite the medication, and you took a deep breath, reaching over for a joint and the lighter on the nightstand, picking it up between your fingers and lighting it with the flickering flame. It hadn’t occurred to you before that Josh might be kicking you out of the apartment. Where the hell would you live? It wasn’t like you could just go to Brendon’s house, seeing as Sarah wouldn’t be on vacation for forever. A sick feeling settled in your stomach and you wished more than anything that you could just disappear. You took a long drag of your joint and let the billows of smoke disperse throughout the room, hoping that things would clear up soon.

Your mind started to linger on other things. Like where Josh might be right now. He could’ve driven over to Tyler’s house and spilled out the entire story to him. That’s what sounded most likely. But he also could’ve done something dangerous. Ideas of your dream lingered in your mind and left a stale taste in your mouth. He wouldn’t kill himself, would he? Visions of his tear stained face and broken eyes burned in the back of your mind and made you feel terribly guilt ridden. You hoped he was okay. You still loved him after all. That’s when you heard the escalation of voices and you began to get concerned.

“You think you can just fucking kill my kid, huh?” a loud voice shouted. Josh. It was Josh.

“Your kid,” Brendon scoffed. “Right.”

“I’m going to kick your ass,” Josh threatened. “I can’t believe you’d do that. I thought we were friends.”

“Hey, I didn’t know,” Brendon defended. “She never told me.”

“She never told you she had a boyfriend?” Josh’s voice escalated. He must’ve been furious beyond belief. “Of course she didn’t! She just thinks she can walk all over me.”

“Maybe if you actually treated her right then she wouldn’t have to come begging to me!” Brendon taunted.

“Treat her right?” you could practically envision the boiling anger rising up inside of Josh. “I did everything for her! I bought her everything she could ever want! I treated her like a queen! Then I leave for tour and she thinks she can throw that all away? That’s my fault?”

“You treat her like she’s a child,” Brendon argued. “You don’t let her drink or do drugs or even have rough sex. How do you expect her to follow your stupid rules? You need to let her breathe, let her live a little.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I’m not going to let her snort cocaine and get shit face wasted every night!” Josh apologized, sarcasm oozing with every word. “I’m sorry I won’t let her hoe around at the clubs in LA!”

“That’s not what I meant, Josh,” Brendon sighed.

“I’m sorry I’m not a fuck boy with a one man band who can charm her with a wink and a smile and whisk her away for months on end!” Josh seethed. “I’m sorry I don’t have weed growing out of my pockets and whiskey on hand and the audacity to let my bad habits influence the others around me!”

“Hey! That’s it!” Brendon snapped. “There’s nothing you can do, Josh! Whining about me being better than you isn’t going to fix the problem! She’s always going to want me more!”

“Bullshit,” Josh spat. “How come she never had the guts to break up with me then? She could’ve just ran off with you and left me out of this. But she didn’t. You know why? Because she found out you’re a cheater. You have so many other girls you’re not willing to give up for her, she’s afraid you’re going to leave her hanging.”

“I’m the one leaving her hanging?” Brendon questioned. “Last I checked, she was the one refusing to break up with her boyfriend and denying to have sex with me because she thought it was wrong! And then she comes crawling back to me with apologies and begging for me to take her back again. Yeah. Totally on me.”

“Fuck you,” Josh replied. “You’re a dick.”

“Of course I am,” Brendon chuckled. “A dick a whole lot better than yours.”

That was it. You couldn’t take it anymore. You couldn’t just sit in the back bedroom and listen to the boys tear each other apart. It was unbearable. You put out your joint and groaned as you pushed yourself off the mattress and stumbled out of the bedroom, looking for the boys. They didn’t seem to be arguing anymore. You didn’t hear their voices. You looked in the living room, seeing nothing, but then starting to hear a wheezing, choking sound. Fear seized your entire being as you heard someone start grumbling, as if whispering, and you turned the corner, speechless and shocked with what you found. Josh had Brendon in a headlock, choking him half to death, Brendon’s face turning a pale shade of blue. Your jaw dropped, staring at the scene, Brendon desperately grabbing at Josh’s arm, only making him squeeze harder.

“You think you can fuck my girlfriend and I won’t know about it, huh?” Josh muttered in his ear. “Knock her up and get me to believe it’s my kid? Let her choke on marijuana smoke and get drunk on fancy bottles of liquor? Ruin my entire relationship with her just so you can add another girl’s name on your long list of sluts?”

“Stop,” you choked out, terrified. “Please Josh.”

“What?” his eyes blazed with fury, his gaze turning towards you. “Do you want a piece of this as well?”

“No,” you carefully shook your head, glancing at Brendon whose eyes were watering, him gasping for breath, scratching Josh’s arm so hard it bled.

“Don’t think I won’t,” Josh warned.

“You don’t have to do this,” you insisted softly, voice shaking, mind spinning. “You don’t need to hurt anyone Josh.”

“Yes I do,” he insisted, glaring at you. “He hurt you.”

“What? No, Josh. This isn’t his fault-” you tried to explain but he only threw Brendon to the ground, which you were extremely grateful for, but also horrified to find out what he might have in store for you. You took a step back and watched as Josh’s chest heaved up and down with heavy breaths, him turning towards you, those angry eyes still afire. Brendon was on the ground, choking for air, trying to get ahold of his surroundings. “Please. Just take a deep breath. Calm down.”

“Calm down?” he yelled. “How the fuck do you expect me to calm down when I wake up in the middle of the night and find my girlfriend bleeding to death on the bathroom floor with a dead baby? When I finally find out the guy who stole you away from me, fucked you up with drugs and sex and alcohol and a baby, and then dumped you? You think I’m going to be calm, babe?”

“N-no,” you stuttered out, glancing at Brendon still laying on the floor and hacking up a lung.

“That’s right!” he shouted. “So stay the fuck out of my way, and let me take care of this for good!”

“Josh,” your voice broke as you saw him turn back around towards Brendon, tugging him up off the floor by his shirt collar, and then shoving him up against the wall. You had never seen Josh do anything like this. He had never gotten this angry in all his life as far as you knew. You were terrified.

“Now as for you,” Josh chuckled darkly, tightening his grip on Brendon’s shirt, pushing him back harder. “I don’t believe we’re done quite yet.”

10

Hank Moody and parenting.