Bloody Mary Nickname Novels & Stories

"And I heard our local 'I'm the woman's gift' honored you with a new, elegant nickname. What was it? Winter Queen? What do you think of such royal titles?" I rolled my eyes dramatically, though a shy smile slipped onto my lips. "Paul's a fool. That nickname is ridiculous." I took my order and paid, then chuckled to myself, "...and it's Bloodybelly comb Jelly." I revealed, and Delta burst out laughing. I used this moment to gather my sweets, escape, and settle into a cozy corner where the radiators provided the warmest comfort.

“Why is his name Bobby Fuzz Jones on your phone?” “Bobby and Fuzz are synonyms for cop and his surname is Jones.” I was still baffled though. “Why not just Robert Jones?” “I like nicknames.” She shrugged and turned the kettle on again since I hadn’t made coffee yet. “What’s mine?” Adara laughed loudly but shook her head. “Are you hungry?” I grabbed her phone from the counter again and called her from my phone. My eyes snapped up towards her as the name appeared on the screen. Her shoulders shook with laughter. “Puppy Fluff Sinclair?”

My eyes rounded as I looked at her, shocked she said that out loud to her. She growled, ‘What did you call me?’ Sammy released her hold on me and stepped towards Betty. The booze made her steps wobbly, I’d hoped her heightened healing would kick in and sober her up a little, at least so she could realise what she was doing. ‘Butch—’ hiccup, ‘—Bertha. Damn, you’re so badass to have a nickname like that.’ Betty grabbed Sammy by the top and pulled her closer, ‘You want to find out why I have that nickname?’ She bared her teeth to Sammy, who immediately became wide-eyed, finally self-aware of her situation.

Barely looking, she tosses it my way and I field it before it hits the ground. Without a word, she turns and leaves. A minute later, it blinks dark. Touched a nerve? Who knows? I rub away a smudge of soil and bite into the potato. ***** The Wolves and the Nightshades... Gang names... ? 'Wolves' has masculine overtones, a touch of the machismo about it. I can see that as a gang name. But Nightshades? What gang calls itself Nightshades? Poison is a woman's weapon...

Sally Oakley to sound like Annie Oakley, but not be so obvious. “Sharp-shooting babes,” Momma says. “No-one ever sees them coming.” That was the name she signed on the motel register, and when anyone asked she said my name was Rainbow. Because of course a young, dumb teen mom would call her child something like this. A pretty name, a joke name. A name better suited to a fluffy new kitten or a dapple-grey pony. You can almost see the big pink bow.

Hawk said weakly. Mary appeared from around the corner of the shack with rags wet from a nearby creek. She lifted his shirt to reveal his brown abdomen. Sopping at the wound. “As long as I’m alive that collar will hold.” “Doesn’t look like that’ll be long.” Marta sneered in a voice that was clearly evil. Her eyes as dark as charcoal. Mary spun with unusual violence. “You don’t say that, Bitch!” She stalked over to Marta. My mates and I were stunned at the quiet girl’s sudden rush of violence. And that term was one, wolves rarely used.

Mary said, drawing back from his outstretched hand. Martha giggled and came closer to him. "Hi! I'm Martha, but my friends call me Marti." She said shaking his hand. Mary scrunched her nose and looked at her sister like she was crazy. "Oh! You actually have bacon grease all over your chin." Martha squealed as she tugged at his chin.

I scoffed and started walking again. “That’s what I thought,” Bryanna gloated. “You are so out of her league. People like us don’t lower ourselves to people like Isabella Aventini.” Bryanna, you are not even worth Isabella’s pinky finger, you bitch, I thought to myself. We walked for about 10 minutes more. “Why do you call her MC?” I asked, curiously. “Oh,” Bryanna laughed. “That was her nickname in girls’ prep school. Moo Cow or MC. She really needs to lose 30 pounds.” Bryanna snickered.

“I mean it could be anyone. There are a lot of people here.” “It’s definitely Mary. Remember when she pooped herself?” Nicole trailed, and she shared a look with Victoria. “She’s called poopy pants for a reason,” Victoria followed up, and they both continued laughing. “Can you all stop calling Mary that name,” I stepped up. I think I have made my voice a bit loud and confrontational that Victoria and Nicole both looked at me with utter shock painted on their faces.