#Cat Boarding Brighton

[adogsdomain]

Cat Boarding in Brighton

Title: The Purr-fect Retreat: Cat Boarding in Brighton with A Dog's Domain and Cats Too

Introduction:

For pet owners in Brighton, finding the right accommodation for our feline friends can be a daunting task. When travel plans arise or life gets busy, ensuring our beloved cats are in a safe and comfortable environment becomes a top priority. That's where A Dog's Domain and Cats Too steps in – a premier cat boarding facility in Brighton that understands the unique needs of our purring companions.

A Haven for Cats:

A Dog's Domain and Cats Too offers a haven for cats, providing a home away from home experience. Nestled in the heart of Brighton, this facility is designed to cater specifically to the needs of our feline friends. The spacious and well-appointed cat boarding area ensures ample room for each cat to stretch, play, and relax in a stress-free environment.

Expert Care and Attention:

One of the standout features of A Dog's Domain and Cats Too is the team of dedicated professionals who are passionate about feline care. Trained to understand the nuances of cat behavior, the staff ensures that each cat receives personalized attention and care. From playtime to grooming, every aspect of a cat's well-being is taken into consideration.

Comfort and Amenities:

The cat boarding facilities at A Dog's Domain and Cats Too are equipped with comfortable bedding, cozy hideaways, and engaging toys to keep your cat entertained. The environment is meticulously designed to mimic the comforts of home, reducing stress and anxiety that cats may experience in unfamiliar surroundings.

Health and Safety:

A top priority at A Dog's Domain and Cats Too is the health and safety of every feline guest. The facility maintains strict cleanliness standards, and each cat is monitored for signs of distress or health issues. The staff is trained to administer medications if needed, ensuring that even cats with special medical requirements receive the care they deserve.

Cats and Dogs, A Harmonious Retreat:

Contrary to the name, A Dog's Domain and Cats Too prides itself on providing a harmonious environment for both cats and dogs. The facility is equipped with separate areas for each species, ensuring that cats enjoy a tranquil and stress-free atmosphere without the disturbance of their canine counterparts.

Booking and Additional Services:

Booking a stay for your cat at A Dog's Domain and Cats Too is a breeze. The facility offers flexible options to accommodate various lengths of stay, making it convenient for short trips or extended vacations. Additionally, owners can opt for extra services such as grooming, playtime sessions, or even webcam access to check in on their furry friends remotely.

Conclusion:

Choosing a cat boarding facility that understands and caters to the unique needs of our feline companions is essential for peace of mind during our time away. A Dog's Domain and Cats Too in Brighton emerges as a standout choice, providing a safe, comfortable, and engaging retreat for cats. When you entrust your cat to their care, you can rest assured that they will receive the attention, love, and pampering they deserve in your absence. Cat Boarding in Brighton Cat Boarding Brighton Cat Boardings in Brighton

[scotianostra]

The Scottish Suffragette and campaigner Arabella Scott was born on May 7th 1886 in Dunoon.

Arabella’s mother was a teacher and her father served as a captain in the army for more than 25 years, she attended The University of Edinburgh and gained a Master of Arts degree and went on to become a schoolteacher.

Both Arabella and her sister Muriel were advocates for women’s suffrage and were active speakers in Scotland for the cause and in 1909, were both arrested on the charge of obstruction in London after they tried to hand a petition to the British Prime Minister Asquith. They served 21 days at H M Prison Holloway.

Arabella was arrested and released several times over the following years, under the Cat and Mouse Act, and Act put into place so that suffragettes could not kill themselves in prison due to hunger strikes, instead when they became too weak they were released and then re-arrested at a later time.

In May 1913 Arabella was arrested with three other women and one man after an unsuccessful attempt to burn down Kelso Racecourse. She was sentenced to nine months imprisonment – as was the man whose crime was to drive them there. Janie Allen a suffragette journalist, bitterly compared his sentence with those who assaulted children and often got less than that.

She went on hunger strike and was released under the Cat and Mouse Act. Unlike others who went to ground once they were released Arabella stayed public. She had promised her employers, Leith School Board, that she would not take part in any more militant activity so she was kept on their list. She was arrested, went on hunger strike released and disappeared for 2 months. She was ‘found’ on a WSPU protest and returned to jail. She went on hunger strike again and was released again..

It took many months to ‘find’ her again, this time working as a WSPU organiser in Brighton. She was arrested and forcibly brought back to Edinburgh and jail. Again the same scenario ensued and she took the train to London before she was due back. She was ‘found’ accidentally while the house she was staying in was being searched for someone else. So, once again she was forcibly brought back but this time sent to Perth prison to be force fed and was "the longest force-fed prisoner in Scotland” for 5 weeks, a visible legacy of this remained in her chipped teeth. These were her battle scars, sustained when she tried to resist being force fed, her mouth held open and a mixture of eggs flour and milk were poured down her throat through a tube attached to a funnel, this happened twice a day every day during her incarceration

Outside the prison gates, 3,000 people kept a vigil, although they were not even told what exactly was going in inside.

She emerged feeling more militant than ever.

All her life Arabella Scott upheld a passionate commitment to women’s rights, under her married name Colville-Reeves emigrated to Australia.

She died on 27 August 1980, and her memorial is in the Palmdale Lawn Cemetery on the Central Coast of New South Wales.

Isn’t it atrocious what society inflicted on these women, to me it amounts to torture as the third photo illustrates.

[mistydeyes]

Hiya, I’ve absolutely fallen in love with your writing (especially because you don’t leave Gaz out 😌) and Was wondering if I could get a match up for one of the cod boys?

I use she/her pronouns and am probably what most people consider to be the bi gamer girl stereotype. My MBTI is E/INFP (just noticed we’re the same!) as I tend to swing wildly between intro and extroversion. I do enjoy being social but I’ve also got some pretty extreme anxiety. I’m not big into astrology but when people find out my big three are Aquarius/Aries/Aries they’re not surprised.

I’m an Aussie and am 170cm tall so I’m not used to being much shorter than most people (growing up I was a head taller than literally everyone so I may have developed a complex 😔) I played lots of sports growing up and am actually joining the navy soon.

My fashion sense mostly consists of Adam Sandler like attire or slutty club fit with docs. I love board games/video games/dodgeball etc and am wildly competitive. I hate cooking and suck at it completely, and my room always looks like a bomb site. I love roller coasters and the beach, but only if there’s waves. I have a degree in history/geography and am 100% a cat person. I have a care bear tattoo and would have more if I wasn’t broke. I’m a very physically affectionate person and I cry a lot over media and am very sensitive but not in a way that I’ll get upset over someone insulting me, more in a I’d cry if I stood on a cats tail. I’m very loud and once you get some alcohol in me I am the life of the dance floor even though I can’t dance.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

a/n aww thank you so much for requesting! i hate when people leave gaz out so yk I'LL always make sure he's included :) also love a fellow INTP!

How you met: Military You fanned yourself as you entered the large school building. Despite your Navy uniform consisting of a long white skirt and blouse, the Australian heat was making it unbearable. You had the unfortunate assignment of attending a career day at one of the local school's to talk about your unique career path. You were directed by the secretary to chat with a few other military personnel before the presentation. Eventually, you saw a friend from the Australian Army chatting with another man. As you approached, you noted that his uniform was significantly different than yours as indicated by the colors and adornments. "Private!" you exclaimed as he turned to you, "fancy seeing you here." You chatted regarding a few important life events before he directed your attention to the man next to him. "This is Sergeant Garrick," he introduced as you shook his hand, "Sergeant and previous Special Air Service member." You couldn't help but laugh slightly. "A Brit? What's he doing here?" you joked and Kyle returned with a smile. "Thought I see what your military is about," he began and you couldn't help but swoon with his pronunciation, "might make me consider joining myself." You continued to jab at the difference in your countries until your friend found himself in another conversation. You didn't mind being left with Kyle as it offered you the opportunity to discuss why you enlisted following your competitive nature and how you had previously gone to school for a history and geography degree. "So why are you here?" he asked but your explanation was cut off with the opening remarks from principal. You sat down next to Kyle, hoping you could continue you conversation over dinner.

A peek into your relationship: "You call this a beach?" you asked as you finally arrived at your destination. Your boyfriend, Kyle, laughed as you looked at the rocky shores of Brighton. While it was beautiful and you loved the pastel homes, it was far from what you knew back in Australia. "Trust me I would bring you here for more than just the beach, love," he reassured and directed you along the boardwalk. As you walked with your hands interlaced, you were led into a large game center. The color-technic lights of the various arcade games and crane machines lit the room as you adjusted from the bright sun outside. "Heard you were competitive," he joked with a smirk on your face and you knew today would be a challenge.

"Fuck me!" Kyle groaned as you won yet another round in Mario Kart. "For someone in the SAS, you sure don't have a lot of skills," you teased and collected your reward tickets. You and Kyle were evenly matched but it was clear your competitive spirit was putting you slightly ahead of the competition. As you wandered around, you saw a row of crane machines. "I hate those," you mumbled and it was as if a light turned on in Kyle's mind. He held your hand as you looked at each one, finally trying your luck with a machine full of Care Bears. As you complained over how they were a scam and impossible to win, a determined Kyle placed a token in and went to work. As you leaned over his shoulder, you were shocked when he picked up a large plush Care Bear and dropped it into the basket. "What the hell," you mumbled as he retrieved the price for you. "There are some things the Navy doesn't teach you," he beamed before kissing you on the cheek. The rest of the day you pondered a few things. First, what was the set of skills he had alluded to? and second, would it be possible to get another tattoo of this bear?

[evelynndecipio-blog]

June 29th, 2020.

Dear Nightingale, 

I’m sorry for taking so long to reply. For the entirety of June, I’ve been keeping my head in the books. I’m not exactly a good student – not currently, at least – but I really wanted to do well in the final exams. Call it an epiphany or whatever. While I was fine failing homework and such, I just couldn’t bring myself to flunk the finals. Ever since our exams have ended, I’ve been busy freaking out about the fact that I could possibly fail. I think I’m over it now, though. Maybe. I just have to do better next year. If there is a next year. Can we be held back at Hogwarts? I’m thinking that might be a possibility for me.

I love it all. The coast, the mountains, the city. I’m not overly picky about where I stay. But you’re right. There’s really something about the coast that’s just special. I don’t know if it’s because I’m biased or not, but there’s no way I could choose anywhere over the sight of the ocean. Your old home sounds like a quiet place, but I think you’d enjoy Brighton. During the off-season, the beaches are calmer than usual, and you’d definitely get your fix of salty air. I’d also recommend Southwold or Shanklin if you’re itching for a road trip. It’s nothing compared to Brighton, I’ve heard, but the vibe is the same.

Cassiopeia is a pretty name. I think I heard it mentioned in Astronomy, but I’m not sure. Even after I decided to study up, I struggled with that subject. Gosh, it would be amazing to ride across this landscape, wouldn’t it? I’m usually looking at it from the Astronomy Tower windows, but I can imagine how amazing it would be to take your horse out for a spin. You could head to Hogsmeade on your own, ahah! I thought it would feel like freedom to come here, but it’s not like that at all. I guess it makes sense. We’re only kids, after all. But the feeling of just trekking across the highlands – unbeatable.

I wish I could bring a dog. It would be just like having a best friend. A cat would do nicely, but I think I wouldn’t like their reserved nature. Too much like me. I get the owl struggle, even though I don’t really send letters home. But if I did, relying on the school owls wouldn’t make me feel good. I bet they’re pretty overworked. Owls are pretty, though. I think it would suit you well.

Your mother sent you to boarding school for the summer? Or was this before Hogwarts? I’m sorry that your relationship is strained. I think we’re in pretty similar positions, though. When my family and I found out that I was a witch, it unearthed some long-kept secrets of my mother’s past. Now I think my family’s bond is beyond repair. I haven’t heard from my father in months and while I’ll probably see my mother everyday over the summer, I doubt I’ll pluck up the courage to speak with her. I don’t want to speak with her. I can’t help but think that she ruined everything. But I think its good that both our mothers can still take care of us at the end of the day. A lot of people aren’t that lucky.

My mother was never my confident. She was amazing and I loved watching movies with her, but I could always talk to my father. It sounds like your mother and my father are pretty similar. He’s big into fantasy too and yes, D&D is our favourite game. We used to make up our own Star Trek games before they released an official one. But once my father found out about me, he bolted. I blame him, but I don’t. It’s confusing. I think he would have liked all this magic stuff if he stuck around, but I guess I’ll never know. If this question is too personal, please ignore it. Have you ever felt like your life was better or worse growing up without a father? I don’t think I’ll ever see mine again. He was a big part of my life and now he’s just gone. I don’t know how to deal with it.

I wish I could have stayed and fought at the ball, though. Maybe it’s the fantasy nerd in me speaking, but to leave so quickly felt cowardly. I felt like I was being my dad and I don’t like that one bit. Still, I know it’s better for me to have escaped. It’s probably insensitive to those who were injured to want to fight. I bet there are others who don’t feel like they belong here, but they’re just hiding under their happy guises. I don’t blame them for keeping it hidden, but I do wish I didn’t feel so alone in my thinking and it’s nice to know that I’m not actually alone.

I get what you’re saying about the overlapping planes of existence. It’s crazy to see people suffering from the ball go straight into exam mode. It’s sad to admit that I’m one of those people. I guess it might be a coping mechanism to them, but during finals week it felt like the ball had never happened. If this is what the magical world supposed to be like, maybe I get your mother’s apprehension, just a little bit.

I’m not sure if “acting fake” is the best way to go about making friends, but it’s definitely better than moping around like I do. You’re trying and I really admire that. And hey, you’re bound to meet those few people you can just be yourself with. They’ll come along sooner or later. In fact, I really enjoy writing to you. It feels like I’m letting out all my frustrations into the void, but I know there’s another living, breathing person at the other end which makes me feel a lot less alone. It’s okay that you don’t want to meet, and I get that you have a lot to lose. I’m not sure I’m ready for that either because you’re the first person I’ve told any of these things to. Not even my family knows how I feel. I’m just glad to be able to talk to you in some capacity.

You’re not assuming too much. Write to me any time you want over the summer. Whether things get worse with your mum or better, I’ll be here to listen.

Set phasers to send us home, Captain Kirk.

[wearejericho]

muse: north brighton (human)

𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 :   bonfires, competitiveness, hand veins, loud laughs, messy hair, sneaking out at 2am, abandoned beaches, stray dogs, candle lights, body language,  creaking floorboards, ouija boards, having no regrets, karaoke nights out.

𝐓𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐒 :   house plants, over-sized sweaters, soft hands, fuzzy socks, visiting big cities, snoozing your alarm clock, the color yellow, vanilla-scented candles, aloe vera, fruit smoothies, baking cookies, the mom friend, loves the ukulele.

𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈 :   femme fatale movies, in love with female villains, sharp eyeliner, quick-witted, does things out of spite, do no harm but take no shit, in love with dogs, probably cries during sad movies but won’t admit it, easily excited, ripped jeans.

𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 :   mermaids, easily infatuated by love, smelling flowers, picnics in open fields, gets sad when thinking about the past, impressed easily, daydreaming in class, plucking fresh fruit, loves fashion, would die for their friends.

𝐋𝐄𝐎 :   confident in what they do, kill them with kindness, high ponytails, probably wants  to visit paris once, not afraid to tell the truth, in love with cute animals, the one to lift others up, good at teamwork, the warm feeling of summer, dragons.

𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐎 :   pastel markers, the smell of lavender, has a welcoming vibe around them, actually organized, scrunchies, neat notes, loves going to museums, probably into photography, neutral colors, handwritten letters, stardust.

𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀 :   soft blankets, cuddling the ones you love, always standing up for your friends, hopeless romantic, can be very distant, can be a little dramatic, pretty hair, dresses nicely, tries to be popular on social media, optimistic,  humorous.

𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐈𝐎 :   cottages in the woods, in love with greek mythology, vintage t-shirts, really emotional but doesn’t want anyone to know, determined, moonlight, pretty handwriting, into the retro aesthetic, rainy days, doesn’t judge people,  cats.

𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 :   always ready for an adventure, street smart, wants to travel the world someday, doesn’t easily trust people, alcohol, paintbrushes, can’t sit still, untied shoelaces, tangled up earphones, blasting music at midnight, eye-gazing.

𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍 :   cold aura, coffee is what keeps them going, probably hasn’t slept in two days, actually a big softie, high-waisted jeans, cute pet videos, small apartments, has too many notebooks, often goes to the library, writing essays.

𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 :   loves to paint & do any kind of art,  wants to live at the seaside, knows a lot of random facts, shares food, messy notes, bullshits an entire essay, graffiti, has their own distinct style, wants to live their life like they want to.

𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐒 :   old teddy bears, unsent love letters, dad-jeans, loves to sing, feels at home by the ocean, writes poetry, hard-workers, always up for deep conversations, probably did the stupid thing, open curtains, a soft breeze.

[yououghtaknow]

hey, it's the person that made the Skam Brighton mood boards a while back. (@custard-the-cat) I just wanted to ask if it's OK for you, if I continue making them now? Bc it's been a year and I don't want to make you uncomfortable with it.

I hope you're having a good day!

omg hiiiiii!!!!!! i would be so SO okay with that!!!!!!!!! i hope you're having a good day too <3 <3

[punkenglishnerd]

I was tagged by @aconissa Thank you so much for tagging me, Ana!!!!!

🎃 Pumpkin: Favourite season? Summer! 👻 Ghost: Do you get scared easily? Yes!!!! I hate scary things :/// 🎃 Candy Corn: What’s your favourite kind of candy? I like gummy candy like Swedish fish, pick’n’mix, twizzlers, etc. I also like chocolate candies too, but only milk chocolate. 👻 Vampire: What is your favourite supernatural creature? Lesbian vampires :) 🎃 Witch: If you could have any superpower, what would it be? Shapeshifting! 👻 Trick or treat: What was your favourite Halloween costume? For my school’s Halloween dance when I was in 8th grade, I was Kiki from Kiki’s delivery service and my twin sister was Jiji :) That was fun! And in freshman year of high school I was in the beginning of my emo phase where I wasn’t brave enough to dress super alt on a regular basis, so I used Halloween to express myself and I dressed up as Abby Sciuto from NCIS. My lil emo heart was so happy!! 🎃 Black cat: Are you superstitious? There are certain things I don’t do because I’ve been taught about those superstitions. I don’t necessarily believe in it, but it’s just kind of natural and also cultural (e.g. not sticking chopsticks straight up out of your food, not whistling at night, etc).  👻 Ouija Board: If you could change your name, what would you change it to? I would probably change my first name to Katie (my nickname is Katie but my legal name is Katherine). I’d change my middle name to Kiyoko which is my Japanese name, but it’s not actually officially a part of my legal name. I’ve always been extremely bitter and upset that my first, middle, and last name are all very “white.” I think my sister and I are the only ones in our whole extended family who do not have a legal Japanese name, whether it’s a first, middle, or last name. Idk if I explained that well lol 🎃 Graveyard: Do you know any good scary stories? I hate scary stories!! My uncle would always purposely try to scare me by telling me spooky stories, but I don’t remember any of them so I must have blocked those memories out. 👻 Skeleton: Have you ever broken a bone? Yes, I broke my leg the night before my last day of kindergarten lol 🎃 Werewolf: What is your favourite urban legend? I don’t know if I know any? 👻 Horror flick: Do you like scary movies? No!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I can do suspense or thriller movies, but I can’t do actual horror. I did like Parasite which I think is more of a thriller. 🎃 Haunted house: Would you prefer to live in the city or the country? City!!!! I’m a city girl!!!!! 👻 Zombie: Do you think that you could survive a zombie apocalypse? Absolutely not!! 🎃 Cauldron: What kind of potion would you make if you had the opportunity? A potion to cure covid that would be readily available to everyone. 👻 Full moon: Do you prefer nighttime or daytime? Daytime!! 🎃 Corn maze:  What is your favourite autumn activity? I like going to my sister’s apartment and making drinks and then cozying up on the couch to watch a movie or show. I also like going thrifting! And I do enjoy autumn walks, but only in September and early October when the weather is cool but not cold; I live in MN so by mid-October it’s too cold for me to actually enjoy going on walks. 👻 Broomstick: What exciting places have you travelled to? My favorite place I’ve ever been is London, and I desperately want to go back for at least a visit, but ideally I’d love to actually live there. When I was studying abroad in London I also visited Stratford-upon-Avon and I want to go back there as well!!!! And I took a weekend trip to Brighton which was also lovely :)

Tagging (only if you want to!!): @ohthoumylovelyboy @maladyofreverie @queentoad @balalaikapattycake @by-thunder @evening-primroses @childofthehydrangea @keeperoftheflame @satans-classics @sarcasm-and-glitter

[eventidespirits]

Adam Allistair Freemont

Aliases: Edwin Lockhart, William Silva, Francis LaRue, Everett Brighton, James Fenwick

Apparent Age: "29"

Birthday: August 11th, 1897

Death Day: December 19th, 1926

Species: Vampire (Siren Bloodline)/Bloodbound Spirit

Gender: Cis Man

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: Primarily Heterosexual

Occupation: Photographer

Residence: Santa Marta, California; Morgan Kendrick's Psychic Realm

Universe: Primarily original lore but also Vampire the Masquerade where he's a Camarilla Toreador who defected to the Sabbat.

Appearance:

Height: 6'0

Build: Tall and lanky with angular shoulders and long limbs. He has a trim, lightly muscled physique with long delicate fingers and soft hands.

Eye Color: Luminous Yellow/Gold with slitted cat-like pupils and a darker, amber band around the edges.

Hair Color/Texture: Black, 1b hair texture. Just long enough for the ends to brush against his shoulders. Partially brushed back and parted to the right but a significant amount of his hair ends up falling into his face.

Face: Angular with a square jaw and high cheekbones. He has a mostly straight nose with a slight convex curve to the bridge. He has deep set eyes with heavy lids and dark circles and usually looks somewhat sleepy but in a strangely sensual way. Defined lips that are usually curved into a sadistic little smirk. He's quite attractive but in a way that feels vaguely dangerous or even predatory.

Distinguishing Characteristics: Adam has bright golden eyes with slitted cat-like pupils. He also has a rather large, jagged scar on his back, located between his shoulder blades. I'd include his *other* distinguishing characteristic but that's kinda NSFW ;)

Posture/Body Language: Confident, even arrogant, chin up, shoulders back but not in a way that looks particularly stiff. His body language is generally relaxed and easy, bringing to mind a big cat at rest -- there's always something about the way he moves that implies a predatory nature laying beneath his cool, collected surface. Adam walks with clear purpose and long, smooth strides and always knows how to make an entrance.

Voice: Soft and smooth with a deep timbre and confident inflection. Adam's voice is somewhat like poisoned honey or arsenic laced velvet -- smooth and sweet but with something slightly off.

Clothing Style: Adam prefers dark colors -- burgundy, blood red, black, charcoal, rich deep browns and the ocassional pop of gold or cream or a white dress shirt. He wears primarily expensive, tailored button downs made from things like silk, velvet or very high thread count cotton with the sleeves rolled up and the top three (or four) buttons undone. Sometimes with brocade, floral or striped patterns. If it's cooler out, he'll wear a black blazer or something similar. When it comes to pants, it's almost entirely black or charcoal tailored pants or pitch black jeans. He usually wears very few accessories -- a nice watch, a belt, a silver and garnet ring and a pendant on a thin silver or gold chain. Generally wearing pointed toe oxfords or other dress shoes. When it comes to outerwear, Adam generally prefers things like wool coats and the ocassional leather jacket (always real leather, too) (to get a better idea, check out his [Pinterest Board]

Skills

Social: Manipulation, Lying, Gaslighting, Flirting, Proper Etiquette, Public Speaking, Blame Shifting, Negging, Seduction

Physical: knife combat, some hand to hand combat, basic combat training (circa 1914), long range firearms/sniping, Ballroom Dancing, Fencing, Horseback riding, the carnal arts

Talents: Photography, Drawing, Poetry, Lying, Being an Asshole, Manipulation, Painting, Seduction, Sex

Knowledges: Fluent in French & Italian, Masters in Psychology (circa 1926), Photo Development (wet plate, autochrome, modern methods), some basic knowledge of financial law and property law

Hobbies: Photography, writing, breaking pretty girls, avoiding his deep-seated psychological issues, general hedonism

Special: Emotional Influence, Telepathy, Emotional Transference, Enhanced Stamina, Enhanced Strength, "Immortality", Enhanced Senses (esp sight), minor regeneration, sweet blood, emotional radar/supernatural empathy, hypnosis/mind control

Psyche

Strengths: Charismatic, quick-thinking, clever, good at understanding the thought processes of others, empathetic, deeply romantic, treats service workers well, dedicated, generally calm, high emotional intelligence, has critical thinking skills, polite*, can be incredibly sweet, adaptable, pays a lot of attention to his partners in bed, passionate, artistic, creative, protective

Weaknesses: selfish, self-absorbed, arrogant, manipulative, almost completley lacks compassion, disdain for basically everyone around him, dishonest, has a horrible temper, needs constant attention and praise, has a massive inferiority/superiority complex, overconfident, easily susceptible to flattery, deep-seated intimacy issues, can't stand being wrong, terrified of vulnerability, paranoid, detached from his own emotions/denies his own humanity, callous, sadistic, can be incredibly rude, actually a bit of a coward, condescending, possessive, jealous and generally kind of a dick.

Fears: genuine intimacy, abandonment/loneliness,true death, being buried alive

Goals: To finally create the perfect art piece (i.e., break someone in just the right way -- he's not even sure what this MEANS, he's just sure he'll "know" when he finally does it), to just enjoy his immortality.

Personality: On the surface, Adam seems likable enough -- at least, at first. He's incredibly charming and thoughtful, often anticipating people's wants before they're even able to articulate them, witty, intelligent and seemingly very polite...

But beneath that surface lurks a spoiled rich kid who learned early on in life that having money, being good looking and charming meant he could get away with almost anything. Adam is self-absorbed and arrogant and almost everything he does is a carefully crafted performance intended to get people on his side and manipulate them into doing what he wants.

Beneath even that, which he desperately tries to ignore, is a little boy who was spoiled by his mother and entirely ignored by his (largely absent) father -- a young man who was traumatized by being forced to fight in WWI and who is full of deep-seated fears and insecurities.

To make up for this, Adam is often sadistic towards the people around him -- but in that way where it's difficult to tell that he's actually being cruel until one looks back at the conversation.

He has difficulty genuinely connecting to others because of those insecurities and instead uses his powers as a Siren to make the people around him love and adore him-- no matter how badly he treats them.

Life

Best Memory: Being gifted his first camera, meeting his Maker.

Worst Memory: Somewhere between when he almost died during WWI and his actual death...

Biggest Achievement: Getting his Masters

Prized Possession: Silver and Garnet ring gifted to him by his Maker, his first camera, his black 2020 Ferrari Portofino (with the red leather interior), (he also has an engraved custom sniper rifle but a friend picked the model and shit for me and I cannot remember what it is for the life of me)

Favorite Color: Red, Gold

Favorite Food:

-Mortal Food: Partial to anything rich and flavorful, prefers food that's not pointlessly ostentatious (nothing coated in gold leaf, that's absurd), dry red wines, Italian Cream Cake, Eggs Benedict, Crepes Suzette

-Blood: Blood taken in the heat of the throes of passion from someone that's truly and deeply in love with and obsessed with him...

Favorite Scents: Blood, Gasoline, Cloves, Cinnamon, Resin, YSL Nuit, roses, vanilla, rain, the sharp smell of a cloudless winter night

Favorite Songs: Winter, 1st Movement - Vivaldi, Raindrops - Chopin, La Vie En Rose - Edith Piaf

Can't Leave Home Without: At least one knife somewhere on his person.

Birthplace: San Francisco, California

Childhood: Adam is the only child out of six in his family to survive to adulthood with four older siblings who had either in infancy, had been stillborn or died of tuberculosis when Adam was still too young to remember them. He had one younger sibling, a sister named Mary who was killed in an accident at the age of 6 when Adam was 8 years old. His parents were already a little bit older by the time he was born and his father was the owner of an incredibly lucrative railroad line and had profited greatly from the Gold Rush as well as owning multiple properties in San Francisco and neighboring Santa Marta...

Due to the loss of her other children, Adam's mother doted on him -- giving into his every whim, supplying him with the best education she could and basically just spoiling the ever loving fuck out of him. His father, on the other hand, was always busy with work and when he was home, had nothing but criticism for Adam who desperately tried to gain his approval to no avail.

Adolescence: Adam developed a passion for photography as a teenager and discovered that being good-looking, clever and rich meant he could get away with A LOT more than most people and also meant that he rarely heard "no" and accepted it as an answer even less often (though he rarely resorted to force to get his way, relying instead on bribery, flattery, blackmail and implied threats). All of this gave him quite an interest in psychology and he intended to become a clinical psychologist. During his adolescence, Adam would have a great many girlfriends and despite being a selfish and manipulative little shit, was actually not the world's worst boyfriend and no hint of the violent temper and genuine sadism he'd develop after being Changed.

Adulthood: Adam's education would be interrupted by the outbreak of WWI,which if asked he will describe as "incredibly distasteful and personally inconvenient." He was a skilled marksman and sniper but was otherwise unremarkable -- much to his father's disdain. After nearly dying in one of the trenches of France after taking a grievous bayonet wound in the last few months of the war, Adam would be sent back from the frontlines and would shortly begin work on continuing his education...

However -- despite the fact that he would complete all seven years necessary to get his degree, Adam's interest in becoming an actual psychologist wouldn't ever come to fruition. In 1925, he would meet Amelia Madeleine Smith -- an unbelievably beautiful and charming socialite from Santa Marta who would see Adam's potential as a source of money and influence for the Nightingale Court of Northern California. She would spend the next year carefully grooming him to become her protege -- manipulating him much in the same way he would later manipulate the women he dates as a vampire -- using emotional transference, mind control and mundane manipulation to cause him to fall madly in love with her... In December of 1925, Amelia would finally perform the ritual of transformation on him and bring Adam over into the world of the Supernatural.

Unfortunately for Adam, his Change would take nearly two weeks to complete -- two weeks spent in absolute agony beyond anything he'd experienced before. Amelia, believing the most important first step for a newly born vampire is to break their bonds to humanity would kidnap his mother during this change and leave her for him to kill upon waking. Adam would remain with Amelia (who used her bond as Adam's maker to control most of his actions and her abilities as a Siren to continue to influence his emotions) until 1980 when she was killed by a member of the Bram Park Wolf Pack in Santa Marta, leaving Adam behind. During this period, Adam would end up being "taken in" by a bonded pair of Stryza -- Camille Belikova and Lucy DeSantos and would act as their primary draw for new playthings.

Recent: Adam met Morgan Kendrick at the Velvet Box goth club in Santa Marta when Morgan was twenty two years old and would sweep her off her feet, intending to make her into his "masterpiece"... Three years into this relationship, Adam would finally Change Morgan, which would break the initial control he had over her and result in her, in a fit of rage, completely draining him and through a magical fluke, causing his spirit to become bonded/fused with her blood...

Recently, Adam's presence has disappeared from Morgan's psyche due to the machinations of Miss Belikova and her wife -- though it appears that the two of them are still inextricably linked in a way beyond the usual bond between Maker and Fledgling.

Relationships

Family: Lawrence Freemont (Father; Deceased), Anne Freemont (Mother; Deceased), Mary Freemont (Sister; Deceased)

Lovers: Amelia Smith (Maker; Deceased), Morgan Kendrick (Fledgling, Ex, Soulbond), Many other unnamed girls.

Friends: Camille Belikova, Lucille DeSantos, Jonathan Andreason

Enemies: Morgan Kendrick, the Bram Park Wolfpack

Acquaintances: Miranda Cortez (Queen of the Nightingale Court of Santa Marta)

Income: Moderately Wealthy

Vehicles: 2020 Ferrari Portofino

Residences: Penthouse Apartment in Vista Rosa, a small Victorian row house in Val Del Mar and a 1br/1ba apartment in Park Verde (all located in Santa Marta)

[nehswritesstuffs]

Adventures in Sontaransitting

You ever just come up with an idea so absurd, you know both that it is going to totally work and you have to write it? That is this fic right here.

7973 words; contains Classic references, Strax being himself (i.e.: difficult), stuffy late-Victorian pudding brains, hijinks, cockblocking of varying levels, an oddly-named cat, extra extraterrestrials, and varying antics; takes place mid-s9 for maximum shiggles, though where it takes place amongst the mixing of our favorite two Sherlockian teams is up for debate (memory worms can also be at play, no judgement here); basically a series of scenes and no real plot to speak of

Adventures in Sontaransitting; Vastra and Jenny take a holiday, while the Doctor and Clara house-sit... or more importantly: babysit Strax.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“…he is allowed cake, only after he eats all his supper; oh, and he is no longer allowed to play with grenades, so we’ve hidden them,” Jenny recited, ticking off her list on her fingers. She was standing on the station platform, with Clara and the Doctor taking mental notes on her requests. People were everywhere, jostling about and attempting to ignore the trio. “I think that’s everything…”

“Jenny, dear, we are going to be late catching our train,” Vastra insisted as she popped out of the crowd. “Please hurry—you know I don’t like such large gatherings.”

“I’m coming; where is Strax?”

“I am here, Miss Jenny,” the Sontaran said, appearing at her side. He saluted importantly and gave her a nod. “The luggage has been loaded properly and the workers briefed on their importance. They know the penalty for mishandling is a dishonorable death.”

The warning whistle blew and both Vastra and Jenny winced.

“Go, go!” Clara insisted. “We’ve got this! Go enjoy Brighton!”

“Thanks!” Jenny hugged the Doctor, then Clara, and took Vastra’s arm. The Silurian nodded at their friends, markedly more reserved despite the smug grin behind her veil betraying her.

“We will see you in three weeks,” she said. “Enjoy yourselves.”

“You as well,” the Doctor said. He tipped his hat and nodded—they had everything under control.

With that, Madam Vastra and Jenny boarded the train in time for it to pull away from the platform. The crowd of well-wishers began to disperse, the Doctor, Clara, and Strax amongst them.

“We are going to have an excellent time with Madam Vastra and Miss Jenny away,” Strax decided as they made their way towards the exit. “It shall not be like the times I go to Glasgow or Liverpool, but it shall be good all the same.”

“That’s because this is Vastra and Jenny’s holiday, not yours,” the Doctor said. “If they can handle themselves when you’re on holiday, then the same can be said for you.” They reached the main atrium and he nodded at Strax. “Go ahead and bring around the carriage.”

“Certainly, Doctor.” Strax nodded best he could and wandered off, causing Clara to scrunch her nose in concern.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” she wondered. “I mean… we are supposed to be watching over him.”

“Vastra said we were to give him an outlet to channel his destructive and simple nature,” he reminded her, quoting the Silurian. “As long as he is busy, which is the entire point of our staying there, then he is relatively safe for the remainder of Paternoster’s residents and Vastra and Jenny won’t have to do any apologizing upon their return.”

“This is true…” They stepped outside and watched for Strax, hoping that their ride wasn’t going to be long. “It’s not exactly like we have no experience with him.”

Nearly as though on cue, Strax pulled the carriage around… though with only one horse pulling it instead of the two they arrived with. The carriage pulled up and stopped in front of the Doctor and Clara, the pair staring at the lone horse.

“Is something the matter?” Strax asked.

“Where’s the other horse?” Clara asked. She might as well.

“It was a coward,” Strax replied simply.

Of course; less than twenty minutes in and they already owed Vastra and Jenny a new horse. They were off to a great start.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Clara woke warm and comfortable, noticing that she had shifted overnight. Instead of snugged up against the Doctor’s back, she was laying on hers, with him cuddled into her side and his head against her shoulder. She could feel his legs were bent as they rested on either side of hers, and his arms were wrapped around her waist. It was a good feeling, one that she didn’t mind allowing herself to indulge in…

…or she would have, if the reason she was in the guest bedroom in a Late Victorian house hadn’t slammed the door open, making her and the Doctor both jump.

“Morning and salutations, Doctor! Miss Clara!” Strax announced as he pulled a tea trolley into the room. Now thoroughly awake, the two glared at him as he intruded further into their space. “I see you have more sense than Madam Vastra and Miss Jenny—the two of them often do not bother with nightshirts, even on the coldest of evenings…”

“Strax, what are you doing?” Clara asked blearily. She felt the Doctor retreat underneath the blankets, his face firmly in her lap.

“Bringing breakfast, as is proper.”

She took a look at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s five in the morning.”

“Yes, and the perfect time for the temporary mistresses of the house to rise,” he replied. Strax took a tray from the bottom of the trolley and placed it atop the bedding, transferring plates and cups and whatnot. “We have to be up with the dawn to get in all the things that require our attention.”

“No we don’t,” the Doctor insisted from his hiding spot. The Sontaran took note of his position, furrowing his brow best he could in thought.

“Are you well, Doctor?” he wondered. “You hide as though you are ill and do not wish for anyone to fuss. As you know, I am fully-trained in medi—”

The Doctor lifted the blanket long enough to growl, “Bugger off,” covering himself again. Strax blinked and looked quizzically at Clara.

“Has he told you why he is hiding?”

“Something tells me that it has to do with how abruptly we were woken up,” she explained. “Thank you for breakfast; the Doctor and I shall take it alone.”

“As you wish.” Strax gave a shallow nod and left the room, his guests realizing their headache that was to be the remainder of their three-week stay. Clara reached under the blanket and scratched the Doctor’s scalp, attempting to console him.

“We’re doing this as a favor, remember?” she said sweetly. “Jenny and Vastra need their time away from him as well, and who better to keep him busy?”

“There are a few others I could introduce him to… Leela would be able to go toe-to-toe with the potato-brain…”

“…but Jago and Litefoot would be decidedly up in arms about Vastra’s adventures in the meantime for their own good, as you explained earlier,” she reminded him. She could feel his nose scrunch up in displeasure against her thigh as his own words came back to bite him. Of course—they’d get on with Strax well enough, yet his old acquaintances were long-proven to be decidedly too male for Vastra’s tastes—let alone Jenny’s—and his former companion… well… they didn’t need the Sontaran to fall in love with the ferocity of the Sevateem.

The Doctor jerked his head so that the blanket bunched on his neck and he glanced at the tea tray and abandoned trolley—at least he knew they weren’t going to starve. He reached over and snatched a strip of bacon, popping half of it in his mouth as he remained attached to Clara’s lap.

“Hungry?” she asked.

“A different kind of hungry,” he admitted. She felt his non-bacon hand move and his fingers slip underneath the hem of her nightgown, travelling up and down the back of her leg in order to make her shiver. “Do you want me to move the tray? I know what bedrooms are useful for now.”

“Not while we don’t know where Strax is,” she reminded him. The Time Lord shoved the rest of the bacon into his mouth and hid again—this was far from fair.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

One of the more interesting parts about watching over Strax was the fact that Clara got to somewhat experience what it was like to employ a servant.

…because yes, of course, she was a sensible early 21st century Briton with a teacher’s salary and a tiny flat—she had neither the money nor the inclination to have anything of the sort in her normal life. What was a cluttered flat and pre-prepping dinners on Sunday afternoon in the grand scheme of things, as long as she planned it into her normal life? She wasn’t supporting a spouse to keep house and cook meals (and even if she was supporting someone, it wouldn’t be for that purpose, let alone solely), so why worry? The flat was only an issue during Christmas if her father’s wife made an appearance, and cooking was genuinely enjoyable, making it so she rarely ever stumbled across the thought in earnest.

Now, she was met with the concept head-on.

“Tea,” Strax announced as he pushed a trolley into the drawing room. She looked up from the lesson plan she was putting together for the Year Sevens and their long-term substitute—a darling, but truly over her head—and raised an eyebrow.

“I could have gotten that,” she said. The Sontaran kept wheeling the trolley over, seemingly ignoring her. “I got my own tea last time I was staying here.”

“This is correct, although Miss Jenny and Madam Vastra instructed me to keep behaving as though you and the Doctor are no different than the two of them,” Strax replied. He began to pour tea into the dainty chinaware and ignored his guest’s frown.

“I thought you were treating me no different from them last time.”

“You were a transient, unsure if you would be resigned to living outside of your home space-time, not a guest,” he reasoned. He paused, glanced around the room, and counted down on his fingers—three, two, one… it was then that the Doctor burst into the room. “I guessed correctly; tea for two.”

“Clara! How long is it until they invent the wireless?!”

“Roughly ten years; twenty before it’s more commonplace.” She saw the vigor with which he dumped a handful of sugar cubes in his tea and devoured a biscuit while sloshing the beverage around so it spilled into the saucer. “Let me guess: someone is trying to invent it early?”

“Not trying—has.” He sipped from the saucer, despite the fact he seemed barely able to contain himself. Pacing around the room, he seemed incapable of being still, for his excitement was beyond measure. “I think it’s some Trions attempting to get a leg-up on the locals and manipulate the native infrastructure. It all seems a bit too convenient otherwise.”

“Trions are cowards, infiltrating other species as they do,” Strax offered. “They have no honor.”

“They might not all have honor, but they do know how to take matters into their own hands,” the Doctor replied, barely able to contain his grin. “It’s been a while since I’ve properly run into Trions—it’ll be fun.”

“I’m not entirely sure if that’s the word I would use,” Clara deadpanned. She sipped at her own tea; it tasted… odd. “What did you do to the tea, Strax?”

“Added additional vitamins and minerals essential for life functions, as this is a poor era for natural nutrient intake,” he stated. Of course he would.

“You do realize I’m vaccinated for a decent number of the diseases that our neighbors live in fear of, right? I already had my entire life of getting better-than-adequate nutrition. Mum raised me on gummy-vitamins for goodness sake.”

“Vigilance in the war against disease and medicinal blight is never done,” Strax affirmed. “Now sit, Doctor, and take your tea as you discuss your findings with Miss Clara. You might even feel better afterwards.”

“…but…!”

“No buts; sit,” Clara ordered, pointing at the armchair. The Doctor did so grouchily, sipping at the rest of his tea. “No Trions until after we’re done here, got it? I’m curious too, but unless it threatens Paternoster, we promised we’d stay out of trouble.”

“What if they…?!”

“Got it?”

“Yes, boss.” He turned his attention to Strax, who seemed confused by the exchange. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

The Sontaran shrugged; companionship was a confusing thing.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Doing the shopping didn’t seem as though it was going to be too horrid. The Doctor stayed back at the house, deciding that he required some extra-alone time away from Strax. This left Clara as the lone chaperone, doing a chore that usually fell unto Jenny.

“The vegetables here are not fresh,” Strax stated as he stared down a bushel of potatoes. They were in an open-air market, with the stall being just one of several that they had stopped at. Clara could see that he seemed to share a sort of kinship to them, thought it was not like he would be able to place two and two together—that would involve having at least four fingers on one hand.

“How can you tell that the veg here is not fresh?”

“It is very clear to me,” Strax poorly reasoned. A cat walked past and rubbed itself against the Sontaran’s legs. “This, however, is very fresh.”

“Behave—it’s only a cat,” Clara scolded. She picked up the feline and looked it in the eyes. “Oh, I do like you, kitty. Do you have a home?” The cat meowed, making her giggle. “I think I’ll take you home with me.”

“We are to guard the house against intruders, not allow them into our midst,” Strax said. He frowned when he noticed that Clara was no longer paying him any attention as she skritched the cat behind its ear, making it purr in delight. “Miss Clara: might I remind you of the mission we are on?”

“You’re such a spoil-sport,” she replied. “Let’s get this good girl home, then we can argue about whether to keep her or not.”

“How can you tell what gender this boy is?” he asked. Clara gave Strax an exasperated look, though noticed out the corner of her eye that the man running the stall was staring at them.

“You try coming back from Manipur with all your senses,” she hissed, affecting a broader accent for emphasis. “Some definite war crimes happened there.” At that the cart owner scurried over to the other side of his wares, leaving them alone. Clara rolled her eyes and allowed her voice to go to normal. “I think that’s enough shopping for the day.”

“We are not bringing the boy home,” Strax insisted. Clara left payment for their produce with the cart owner’s wife and began to walk away, ignoring her companion. “It would be a breach of protocol to allow an interloper access!”

“We can let Jenny and Vastra be the judge of that,” she insisted. She pointedly tuned out Strax’s complaining as they walked back to Paternoster Row, as well as the yawp he emitted when she allowed the cat to roam free within the house, chasing after it.

“What upset the potato now?” the Doctor wondered, emerging from the corridor as Clara hung up her coat and hat on their pegs in the foyer. “He’s shouting less intelligibly than normal.”

“I brought home a cat,” she shrugged. “You’re back from sneaking out to investigate the Trions early.” He winced—caught.

“It was just a human-led experiment gone nearly right; nothing to get worried about the time stream over.” He heard a crash and winced again. “That cat seems as troublesome as the High Council in Strax’s eyes.”

“Maybe it means he has a distraction so we can possibly get in some time alone,” she suggested. He gave her a hopeful grin as she placed her hands on his chest—possibly…?

…except, the cat scurried between them, making the couple jump apart. Not a moment later and Strax was barreling through as well, almost pushing them out of the way.

There went that idea.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was a lazy day as the sun poured into the parlor, warming the room gently. Rassilion was laid out on the rug, her kitty sensibilities deciding it was time for a nap, whilst the human and Time Lord were reclined on the couch. Clara was snug with a book and firmly within the Doctor’s grasp, with him taking a cue from the cat with a quick kip himself. Everything was so quiet and tranquil that it almost seemed as though the moment was almost daring something to happen…

…and sure enough, it did.

A loud BOOM jolted both the Doctor and Rassilion from their naps, with Clara dropping her book in surprise. The entire house rattled, threatening the integrity of the structure. Bolting to their feet, the Doctor and Clara both ran from the parlor to see what was going on—were they being targeted by a rogue extraterrestrial who was bent on revenge?

No, it seemed, as the cellar door opened soon as they passed it, with a plume of smoke and a coughing Sontaran emerging from it.

“What in the hell is wrong with you?!” Clara snapped. “Are you trying to make sure Vastra and Jenny don’t have a house to come home to?!”

“I have misplaced my grenades, so I am constructing new ones,” Strax said simply.

“You aren’t allowed grenades when Jenny and Vastra aren’t around!” she fired back. She turned her attention to the still-smoky entrance to the cellar, her eyes narrowing in determination. “Let me see exactly what you have down there.”

“Miss Clara!” Strax protested sternly. “You should refrain from poking around in my workshop!”

The Doctor made a noise and placed a hand on the Sontaran’s shoulder—hold up. Cautiously, the extraterrestrials watched—eventually joined by the cat—and waited for some sign from Clara, good or bad. A couple minutes passed and a smaller explosion could be felt beneath the floorboards, with Rassilion running away and the sound of angry bootsteps storming up the stairs. Clara popped out of the cellar looking rather sooty and singed, but most of all: rather cross.

“If either of you need me, I will be in the TARDIS,” she stated, looking ready to murder. The Doctor and Strax both gave her a wide berth as she walked down the corridor and up the stairs, towards the room where the TARDIS was sitting.

“Do us a favor,” the Doctor said, “don’t mess with explosives while Clara’s here. She seems… testy.”

“Might it be that her body is preparing to shed uterine lining in preparation for her next fertile cycle?”

“No… just… I think that’s something you need to wait for Jenny’s assistance on when she gets back from holiday,” he replied. The Doctor decided to leave Strax be as he went back to the parlor and attempted to continue his nap…

…and probably would have if not five minutes later he heard another small explosion coming from the cellar. The semi-sentient potato was not going to learn.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“You and your husband seem familiar—did you buy the house from Madam Vastra?”

Clara glanced up from her book to see the neighbor-woman peeking over the side garden gate at her, very clearly being too nosy for her own good (despite the fact that it was incredible it had taken this long for her to approach them). She placed her finger between the pages and held her spot as she closed it; just because she was reading an old favorite, The Return of the King, did not mean she wished to lose her place. Judging by which garden wall it was… she knew she was in for a boring conversation.

“You could say we’re short-term subletting, in a way,” she replied, using her crispest accent possible. Clara didn’t even bother with calling the Doctor over from the other side of the garden, knowing that he was better off taking apart the old boiler (that he found in the basement, no less) in peace. The last thing she needed was the woman’s sensibilities—or lack thereof—to irritate him into an evening of crankiness. “Jenny is my sister and we are watching over the home while she accompanies her mistress on important business. We visited a while back, which is likely how you recognized us.”

“Jenny is your sister…?” The neighbor seemed nearly appalled. “Why does she work as a maid?”

“She enjoys it, I suppose,” Clara said blithely. Rassilion padded over from the hedge and hopped into her lap, purring contently as she received idle skritches. “I am not one to judge—I was a governess before I began teaching.”

“…a governess…?”

“Aye, and a good one at that,” the Doctor said, thickening his own accent slightly. He walked over towards the table Clara was still seated at, wiping the dirt and grease off his hands with a rag. The more he could offend the neighbor, so easily repulsed by differentness from her own English existence, the better off not only would they be, but the less prying would happen in the normal occupants’ lives. “She’s great with bairns… better than I can hope t’ be.”

“…and that shall be one of the many notes I plan to prove you wrong on one day,” Clara said, smugly eyeing the Doctor. He was filthy, yes, and it was driving her up a wall. She looked over at the neighbor and had to stop herself from laughing at the sheer disgust at her uncouth, brazen, unabashedly open horniness. “Would you like to stay for tea? Strax is supposed to be making a lovely merengue for the afternoon…”

“I was just wondering, was all,” the neighbor said. “Good day, Mrs.…?”

“Clara Oswald, and I’m the Doctor,” the Time Lord said.

“Doctor Oswald, what, pray tell, is a doctor doing with a governess?”

“Not being bored.” The neighbor left in a huff, causing the time travelers to snicker to themselves. “Something tells me she’d be appalled to learn what really goes on in this house in private.”

“It is time for tea!” Strax announced as he made his way into the garden, tea tray in-hand. He set it down on the table and blinked curiously as he looked at Clara, then the Doctor, and back. “I am detecting increases in hormone levels, heart rates, resting breathing patterns, and your pupils might be dilated slightly. Do you both need to take your tea indoors?”

“No, but I think you need to let us know when you are preparing dinner, so we can chat privately,” the Doctor said, sitting down at the table. He felt the toe of Clara’s boot travel up his calf as he pretended to not notice, instead placing eight sugar cubes in his tea without flinching. Strax poured Clara’s tea and passed it to her.

“If you require time to mate, I can block some out for you later on,” he stated. Clara and the Doctor both choked on their drinks, neither entirely sure they just heard what they did. Rassilion scurried away at that, sensing that there was something she did not want to be around for, and ran into the house. “Madam Vastra and Miss Jenny set aside time for mating often, though they are of different species and can therefore not produce offspring.”

“Well… he’s not wrong,” the Doctor muttered into his tea.

“You and Miss Clara are of different species as well—why would you mate if that is the case?”

“Not… necessarily…” Clara said, not really wanting to elaborate. It was bad enough that Strax was incapable of understanding the concepts of multiple genders and anything resembling sexuality in even the most rudiment forms (despite the fact he seemed to forget all about neither Vastra nor Jenny being “man-ones”), but he seemed to think he was filling in the gaps of his knowledge when he very clearly… well… wasn’t.

“Ask Jenny,” the Doctor said. He ignored the glare he got from Clara and took a slice of merengue, stuffing his gob with it. “She can explain it.” The talking potato contemplated the option.

“Yes… she was the one who explained mating to me from the start, so she shall be best with whom to continue the conversation.”

They really needed to figure out how to get him to stop using that word… for everyone’s own good.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Clara was not feeling well.

Specifically, it was that her menstrual cycle was hitting her particularly hard, making it so that all she was up for that day was going to be laying in bed—in the TARDIS, mind—and watching movies with bottomless tea and crisps and Rassilion curled up with her. A girls’ day, so to speak… which meant that the Doctor had to take Strax and make scarce for most of the day.

“This place is so annoying I can barely think,” the Doctor scowled. Why were they in the middle of Trafalgar Square? He wasn’t entirely certain. The only thing he was certain about was the fact there were way too many people and too few of them were Clara for his liking.

“It is a fine day for a stroll,” Strax declared. “We are not far from Charing Cross; you can always go home.”

“I’d rather not,” the Doctor grumbled. He knew the penalty for coming back without Strax would be a severe one, and it was not a theory he wished to test. Glancing around, he tried to find something with which to occupy his time and mental capacities. He was nearly about to give up when he saw it: the empty plinth, occupied by something a lot larger than an overweight pigeon. Without a word, he took the sonic shades from his pocket and put them on to observe the being insane enough to stand on Trafalgar Square’s Fourth Plinth.

“Doctor, what are you doing?” Strax asked. “Those are not available in this point in the human time stream, as per Miss Clara’s instruction.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got more important things on our hands,” the Doctor said. He zeroed in on the plinth’s occupant and frowned. “Wirrn.”

“Are you certain of that, Doctor?”

“I’d rather not admit there’s Wirrn in Late Victorian London, but here we are,” he replied. “Where there’s one, there’s bound to be more. You haven’t run into any yet, have you?”

“Not that I am aware of… but then again, handling those… I forget what they are, but the wriggly things tend to leave gaps in my recollection. It is most dangerous.”

“Then let’s see if there are any gaps that need fixing,” the Doctor said. He pocketed his sonic shades and adjusted the lapels of his jacket—he was ready.

Later on, as Clara shuffled out of the TARDIS in search of something both sweet and salty from the kitchen (as the TARDIS only seemed to have barbecue crisps and a chub of fondant), she noticed that both the Doctor and Strax had returned and were laying face-down in the foyer. Holding onto Rassilion, she nudged the Time Lord over with her foot, seeing that he was a particularly nasty shade of green, with nearly-translucent boils all over. Strax rolled onto his back and it was apparent his condition was worse—the boils were opaque and definitely a more sickly color—showing how whatever it was they ran into affected the two species differently.

“Do I want to know?” she asked.

“No…” the Doctor wheezed.

“Should I… erm… leave you to it, then…?”

“That would be best, yeah,” he nodded. She crept away, heading to the kitchen, Rassilion seemingly unbothered by the encounter despite the fact she knew full-well how bad that really was.

As long as it didn’t end up in the history books, she figured, whatever it was happened to be a win.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

All they wanted was just a little bit of time to themselves; the Doctor and Clara held hands as they glanced around, making certain that they were unseen as they ducked into the storage cupboard. It was just too small to be a proper room, yet still big enough to be of use for anything from linens to liaisons.

“Mmph—make this count, Doctor,” Clara ordered, pulling him down into a kiss. She felt his hands on her rear and suddenly she was lifted onto a shelf, bringing her more at-height with him as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Despite sharing a bed at night, their physical contact levels were leaving many things to build… and poorly at that. “It’s worse than if we tried to get anything in at work.”

“Dodging tweens, I don’t recommend; cats and potatoes, yes,” he murmured, his kisses beginning to trail down her jaw and to the crook of her neck.

“Oooh, say that again.”

“What? I don’t recommend trying to do this at your place of work?”

“No, the last bit.”

“Ah.” He moved, lips trailing against her skin, until he was gently pressed against her ear. “Yes.”

A shiver coursed its way through Clara, arching her back and making her dig her nails into the Doctor’s shoulders. He reached to get rid of his belt, and she to more-sufficiently move her skirts out of the way. They were only partway there when they heard a light scratching at the door—Rassilion.

“Go away!” the Doctor hissed. The cat mewled in protest, as she wanted to make sure everything was alright. “We’ll feed you later!”

“Thank you for not letting the cat watch us,” Clara grunted.

“Well when you name it Rassilion…”

He was cut off from saying anything else, however, by the door swinging open, Strax being the perpetrator. The Sontaran stared at the scene before him, unsure of how to address it. He could not see anything because of how the Doctor was standing, but the sight of Clara with her legs around a sagging-trousered Doctor… it was at least enough to give him an idea.

“You are incorrect, boy,” he told the cat. “They are not in danger.”

“Strax!” was all Clara was able to scream. She pulled a bedsheet from the shelf and tossed it at his head, causing him to staged backwards slightly. “Don’t you dare do that ever again!”

“What are you doing?” he asked, trying to disentangle himself from the unfolding linen. The Doctor closed the door and took a broom, using it to further block the door. “Is that mating? I didn’t think it would—”

“GO AWAY.”

He paused, looked at the cat, then did as he was told. Beings who required time for mating were truly beyond his comprehension.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

They had no real choice in the matter—they had to do the adventuring thing.

It was not as though the Doctor, Clara, and Strax had anticipated being knee-deep in the sewer system when they had left the house for a drive that very morning. All they were planning on doing was having a picnic in the countryside and taking their time getting back to Paternoster. Just a normal outing—one that honestly transcended the time period—and it should have been a simple thing to keep them occupied. Instead, they had gotten on the wrong side of a literal sentient pudding on their way through Acton and were now on their sixteenth hour of attempting to outmaneuver it.

“It always seems rather suspicious how many aliens are holed up in London,” Clara groused. She had most of her skirts bunched up in one arm as she held her torch with her other hand. Glancing back at the Doctor, she saw that he was attempting to look innocent. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with you, would it?”

“Extraterrestrials come to London because they can blend in and not a single human notice,” he shrugged.

“If that’s the case, then what about New York? Mumbai? Beijing? Los Angeles? Hong Kong? Bloody Liverpool or Edinburgh? Why don’t they get more of the weird aliens?”

“Weird humans exist too, Clara, and they tend to keep other weird beings at-bay,” he chided. She threw him an unimpressed look—not today.

“I think it would be exciting to have more extraterrestrials residing within London,” Strax decided. He was at the front of their party, oblivious to any stares he was getting. “Might liven things up a bit—haven’t had this much excitement in months!”

“I thought you were investigating things all the time with Vastra and Jenny,” Clara noted.

“Mostly human affairs—such dull, odd creatures,” he frowned. “It’s always the men-ones, it seems. They are not well-behaved and the men-ones at Scotland Yard are not always willing to approach them due to their weak and pathetic ways.”

“…that’s not how I would describe it, but you’re not that far off the mark,” she muttered.

“It is part of how attractive England is to extraterrestrials, London in particular,” he added. “Ever hear of aliens invading Glasgow? You don’t! They know how much resistance there would be—can’t pull the wool over eyes from the Clyde!”

Clara stopped walking, which allowed the Doctor to inspect the walls around them so as to stay out of the row. “How does Vastra not chuck you out onto the curb on the daily?”

“Then there would be no one to tend the horses or garden, and she does not wish to hire a man-one,” Strax replied frankly, as though he’d had this precise conversation already.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of young women able to brush a horse and plant flower beds who would be itching to be hired and not as a joke—maybe even some men itching to live as men for once.” She glanced over at the Doctor and saw that his face was scrunched in thought as he was looking at a crack in some of the bricks. “Please tell me you found something and are not just avoiding.”

“Possibly,” he mused. He counted out bricks over and down, then hit one, with a passageway opening where the bricks were split. “Can’t hide forever—we now have an advantage.”

“…and what do you propose we do with this advantage?” she asked.

“Fight for honor and glory on the battlefield?” Strax asked, attempting to be helpful.

“Take this thing by surprise and get it out of our hair,” the Doctor corrected. He led them further into the passageway, which somehow smelled even worse than the sewer itself. Clara was about to make a comment on it when a loud, disgustingly-wet belch came from further down the way, putting a massive grin on the Time Lord’s face. “It looks like we’re in the right spot.”

“We’re in something, alright,” Clara deadpanned. She let her skirts drop as she saw the floor beneath them was dry, leaving her to access other things, such as her mobile for a flashlight. Just as she locked her screen again, Strax ran past them, somehow brandishing a grenade and phaser pistol.

There went their element of surprise.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was a lovely day, in all honesty, which meant that Clara and the Doctor decided to take their lunch outside in the back garden. They both knew that it meant that they were at risk of catching the attention of the neighbors, though that didn’t matter much as they set up the table and had Strax bring the food out. For at least a few minutes, things were quiet…

…until they most definitely were not.

“Doctor Oswald? Mrs. Oswald? Might I have a word?”

The Doctor put down his half-of-a-half a sandwich and turned in his chair, looking to see who was stupid enough to disturb them. It was the neighbor from a while ago, looking very grim and serious as though she had wallowed an entire pear in one go.

“Can’t you see we’re eating?” he asked, slightly exaggerating his accent again. “I’d like t’ still be able to have a mid-afternoon kip if you’ll allow me to finish in time.”

“It is about your sister-in-law’s coworker.”

Clara and the Doctor traded looks instead of cursing loudly. “Did you want some tea?” she asked, watching as the neighbor-woman made her way into the garden. The intruder sat down at the table and scowled.

“No, thank you. I am only here to talk about your sister’s fellow servant. Strass, is it?”

“Strax.”

“Yes, how… peculiar.” She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “I need you, Doctor, to speak with Madam Vastra when she returns from her business.”

“Why me?”

“I do not expect Madam Vastra to listen to the words of her maid’s sister, no matter how intelligent, but you are a learned man with standing. Would you be able to tell her that her manservant is getting into our gardens again and we, as a neighborhood, shan’t stand it for much longer.”

“What, do you think he’s spying on you? He’s got better things to do with his time.”

“He says he is setting up a perimeter against the ‘Rutan menace’. What does he even mean by that?”

“We’ve learned with Strax, it’s best to ignore him most of the time,” Clara offered. She took a bite of her sandwich and shrugged nonchalantly. “I mean, he’s not particularly dangerous… only mildly so.”

“A danger is a danger,” the neighbor insisted. “Please, Doctor Oswald, put your love for the service class aside for half a moment and make it clear to Madam Vastra that we should not have to suffer him for much longer.”

“If he’s such a problem, then why don’t you tell her yourselves?” the Doctor asked.

“We’ve tried and… it seems as though she needs convincing from a closer source,” the neighbor admitted. “Any of the rest of us and he would have been terminated ages ago.”

“So then you want me to finish what you were too cowardly to accomplish.”

“No! I wish for you to get Madam Vastra to listen to reason!” The neighbor was about to continue but was cut off by the sound of something breaking, along with Rassilion hissing loudly. “Don’t you hear him being a nuisance? I thought you were here to watch over the home, not make certain he destroys it.”

“Why don’t you leave the particulars of that to us,” the Doctor said. His patience was worn especially thin; too much longer and he was going to pop a memory worm up her bustle. “Vastra left that to us, remember? Don’t worry about it.”

“I have to worry—the entire street’s reputation is on the line because of him, after all.”

The Doctor was nearly about to tell the woman off—her brain was a particularly dense form of pudding—when Rassilion ran from the house. The cat attempted to find shelter under the neighbor’s chair, but Strax ran out and saw her, diving under in order to catch “the interloper”, as he was referring to her. This knocked the neighbor off the chair and onto the lawn, with the cat using her as a springboard in order to jump into Clara’s lap.

“The fiend was attempting to steal additional food rations!” Strax snapped as he scrambled to his feet. “We have to get rid of that thing before Madam Vastra and Miss Jenny arrive back!”

“Strax…?” Clara said, pointing at the neighbor. “What do you say?”

“Oh!” He bowed slightly, though did not help her up. “There are many things that happen on the battlefield. Unfortunately that was one.”

“You need to be in a mental asylum!” the neighbor shrieked. “All of you! I can’t wait until Vastra moves out of this house! We need some sanity around here again!”

“It’s not like you’ll provide that,” Clara quipped as the woman stormed off. She didn’t care that the garden gate slammed shut, nor that they had just gotten a decidedly non-Victorian tirade out of someone who before had been snide at worst. All she did was pet the cat and stare at Strax.

“…am I in trouble…?” he wondered.

“Not sure if I’ve decided yet,” she replied.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Finally, the Doctor and Clara knew they were alone.

They had placed Rassilion in her cupboard, Strax was off on an evening patrol of the neighborhood, and the neighbors themselves were at a relative’s house for dinner. All throughout their own meal, the couple had given one another hungry, desperate looks as they waited for their chance, glad that their housemate was oblivious to their desires. Now, after all this time, they had it.

“How do you want to play this?” the Doctor asked as he closed the bedroom door and turned down the lights. He glanced over at Clara, who nearly seemed to glow in an aura of sexual prowess. She considered him, her eyes going up and down his body, before deciding.

“Undress for me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sitting down at the edge of the mattress, Clara watched as the Doctor carefully and methodically stripped away his layers. His clothes began to form a pile next to him—all futuristic fabrics for the time period that required no ironing later—until he was down to his pants and undershirt. She crooked her finger and he stepped towards her, his erection apparent.

“Now me.”

He bent down to kiss her and undo the back of her dress at the same time, only to get her forefinger pressed to his lips playfully.

“Stockings first.”

Ready to play her game, the Doctor went down on his knees and began to undo the laces of Clara’s boots, relishing in her touch as she gently played with his hair. One boot, then the other, as he buried his face in her skirts; his hands went torturously slow as he freed her of her stockings, eliciting a low moan as he slid the fabric over her skin. He parted her thighs and felt experimentally—she was wearing her also-very-futuristic knickers that allowed him to slide them off without a problem. Ducking under her skirts, he began to kiss and bite and massage the inside of her legs, heading closer to the goal as slow as was excruciatingly possible. She could feel his breath on her, just barely ghosting over the place she absolutely needed him, and she gripped the bedspread in anticipation as she laid back, turning near into jelly.

“Doctor…?! Miss Clara…?!”

A mood-killer if there was one.

“Not now, Strax!” the Doctor shouted, still underneath Clara’s skirt. They heard the doorknob wiggle—locked, for they had learned from their attempted quickie. “We are in the middle of something!”

“I need to show you this suspicious plant I saw growing in the neighbor’s yard!”

“We told you: it’s milkweed planted by another neighbor as a prank!” Clara snapped. “Now let us be until we leave the room of our own volition or you will regret it!” She heard footsteps in the corridor and exhaled heavily, releasing a bunch of tension she didn’t realize she was allowing to build in her body. Relaxed again, she hooked her legs over the Doctor’s shoulders, allowing her knees to rest on him. “It’s a miracle Jenny and Vastra get any time to themselves at all.”

“I feel like he fears them more,” he replied, nuzzling her leg. “That tongue is scary.”

“Make use of yours or else you can also bugger off,” she insisted, holding him firmly in place. He made a noise in anticipation and she knew he was grinning against her skin. “Maybe he is how they’re guaranteeing that we don’t do this in their house.”

“This is Vastra and Jenny we’re talking about; getting them to disapprove of consensual anything means that someone, somewhere, is not going about things as they should.” He was only centimeters away now, feeling her heels digging into his back in an attempt to force him forward. “Anxious, are we?”

Clara let out a little moan as the Doctor began to kiss her, precisely where she wanted him. She writhed as he held her hips in place and continued, eliciting more vulgar noises from her, pushing her further and further. He stopped just as she was about to hit her peak, causing her to cuss loudly.

“Language,” he teased, popping out from underneath her skirts. He went back to her dress, undoing the laces and hooks and everything that kept the fabric around her and off the floor. Once her body was free from its confines, Clara pushed the Doctor back so he was laying on the bed, with her straddling his waist in only her chemise. He gazed up at her, a besotted fool if there ever had been or shall be one, and fell for her yet again. Divesting himself of his remaining clothes, he lay still as she sank down onto him, getting things going properly. He shifted his hips slightly and could feel her tense around him, ready to take him for everything…

…except, there was a knock at the window.

A very irritating, Sontar-derived knock.

“Doctor? Miss Clara? I still need you to look at this suspicious plant!” Strax insisted. He stared at the couple blankly, it taking a moment to process what precisely was going on, before nodding to himself. “I’ll come back later.”

“If there wasn’t leaded glass between us I’d throw something at him,” Clara hissed. She watched as Strax disappeared from sight, leaving just her and the Doctor once again in the evening twilight. “He’s worse than the cat.”

“Just channel it all into something more constructive,” he offered. He gently bucked his hips into her and she grunted—oh yeah, that was right.

She was a bit rough with him that night, that much was for certain, but at least their charge didn’t disturb them for the remainder of the evening.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The moment when one comes home from a holiday is always bittersweet; seeing London again for the first time in ages was reassuring to Vastra and Jenny, both of whom were a little less eager to go home than they were willing to admit. Their Brighton holiday had been refreshing beyond what they had expected, making it so that they were a bit loathe to leave in the end. Luckily, there was still important business that called them back to Paternoster Row in the form of keeping the peace where and when Scotland Yard was incapable or incompetent, which was part of what dragged them onto the train back to London.

Another was making sure that their Sontaran hadn’t managed to drive his sitters to madness yet.

The train pulled dutifully into the station, where there was a throng of people waiting on the platform for other returning travelers. They moved cautiously amongst them, wondering where their reception committee was… if they were even there at all.

“There you are!”

Both ladies looked and saw Clara appear from the crowd; her face was one of relief as she brought them into a hug, with a beleaguered-looking Doctor not far behind. Curious—though not ignorant—they wondered how bad it had gotten while they were gone.

“It was very bad,” the Doctor said, not needing his psychic abilities to read their minds. “Not a lot of sleep, barely any quiet, few things got done, absolutely no sex whatsoever… you can find a different sitter next time.”

“I really didn’t want to have to drop him off at Jago’s, but I guess I shall have no choice but to consider that for the next time,” Vastra cringed. Clara let go of her and Jenny and they set about getting their luggage. With the Doctor taking most and the ladies all one each, they were able to make their way out towards the pickup area and sought out Strax and the carriage.

“Ah! You have returned!” he grinned. “How was Brighton?”

“Rather quiet—it was almost nice,” Vastra said. She noted how there was only one horse attached to the reins and glared at Strax. “Where is the other horse?”

“It was a coward.”

“You’re an idiot,” Jenny sniped. “I heard you were misbehaving. Is that true?” He stayed silent. “I thought so; no cake for a month.”

Strax groused lowly to himself—what complete and utter nonsense.

[adogsdomain]

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[scotianostra]

The Scottish Suffragette and campaigner Arabella Scott was born on May 7th 1886 in Dunoon.

The treatment of these women was barbaric, Arabella Scott was "the longest force-fed prisoner in Scotland, happening several times a day for over five weeks. I do not know how she endured it......

Arabella's mother was a teacher and her father served as a captain in the army for more than 25 years, she attended The University of Edinburgh and gained a Master of Arts degree and went on to become a schoolteacher.

Both Arabella and her sister Muriel were advocates for women's suffrage and were active speakers in Scotland for the cause and in 1909, were both arrested on the charge of obstruction in London after they tried to hand a petition to the British Prime Minister Asquith. They served 21 days at H M Prison Holloway.

Arabella was arrested and released several times over the following years, under the Cat and Mouse Act, and Act put into place so that suffragettes could not kill themselves in prison due to hunger strikes, instead when they became too weak they were released and then re-arrested at a later time.

In May 1913 Arabella was arrested with three other women and one man after an unsuccessful attempt to burn down Kelso Racecourse. She was sentenced to nine months imprisonment – as was the man whose crime was to drive them there. Janie Allen a suffragette journalist, bitterly compared his sentence with those who assaulted children and often got less than that.

She went on hunger strike and was released under the Cat and Mouse Act. Unlike others who went to ground once they were released Arabella stayed public. She had promised her employers, Leith School Board, that she would not take part in any more militant activity so she was kept on their list. She was arrested, went on hunger strike released and disappeared for 2 months. She was ‘found’ on a WSPU protest and returned to jail. She went on hunger strike again and was released again..

It took many months to ‘find’ her again, this time working as a WSPU organiser in Brighton. She was arrested and forcibly brought back to Edinburgh and jail. Again the same scenario ensued and she took the train to London before she was due back. She was ‘found’ accidentally while the house she was staying in was being searched for someone else. So, once again she was forcibly brought back but this time sent to Perth prison to be force fed.

Outside the prison gates, 3,000 people kept a vigil, although they were not even told what exactly was going in inside.

She was kept in isolation and force fed, a visible legacy of this remained in her chipped teeth. These were her battle scars, sustained when she tried to resist being force fed, her mouth held open and a mixture of eggs flour and milk were poured down her throat through a tube attached to a funnel, this happened twice a day every day during her incarceration

She emerged feeling more militant than ever.

All her life Arabella Scott upheld a passionate commitment to women's rights, under her married name Colville-Reeves emigrated to Australia.

She died on 27thAugust 1980, and her memorial is in the Palmdale Lawn Cemetery on the Central Coast of New South Wales.

Isn't it atrocious what men inflicted on these women...........

[profoundnet]

Profound Member Post - August 2019

Header by @cryptomoon​​​ and is available on merch from her redbubble store. You can use all those fancy emojis (and more!) on our Discord server!

The Masterpost is open for all creations by ProfoundBond members which are posted in their entirety during that month.

MEMBER CONTRIBUTIONS FOR AUGUST 2019!

Masterpost below the cut.

goldenraeofsun - @goldenraeofsun - goldenraeofsun

Don’t Look Back (E, 36k)

While Mary was alive, she would tell Dean that soulmates were chosen by angels. When the right time came, he would hear his soulmate’s voice in his head, and he would know, wherever they were, they were singing just for him.

But Dean never heard a damn thing. Not at 12, when most people heard their first soul song. Not at 15, when Sammy heard his. Not at 17, when only two-percent of the population heard their first.

And definitely not at 28, when Sam leaves to be with the love of his life, and Castiel, deaf professor of rock music history at KU, moves in.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Deaf Cas, Professor Cas, Mutual Pining, They Were Roommates, Dean has self worth issues, Slow Burn

nickelkeep - @nickelkeep - nickelkeep

Some Pacific Wind (E, 11k)

When a storm comes through and tears away the roof of Dean's beloved night club, Nereid, he believes all is lost. But can the anonymous donations and the attractive new guy, Castiel repair all the things that have been broken?

Tags: AU - Modern Setting, Strangers to Lovers, Bartender!Dean, Businessman!Cas, Dom/Sub Play, Body Worship, Sub drop, Angst/Hurt and Comfort with a Happy Ending

Edge of Paradise (E, 3k)

Cas started to fold the panties when a thought crossed his mind. Dean always put the panties on himself, but had he ever wanted to see Cas put them on? Would that be something that turned on Dean? For a moment, Cas unfolded Dean's panties and held them out in front of himself. He looked at them, imagined the feel of the fabric wrapped around his skin instead of Dean's.

Tags: Canon Compliant, Established Destiel, Panty Kink, Dom/Sub Play, Porn w/ a little Plot

Faithfully (E, 7k)

"I have an idea!" Charlie giggled as she stood up. She stumbled a little, but Dorothy shot her hand up and helped steady her. "I saw a new game in the closet. It's a game we all know, but they put it on cards."

Dean shot a look at Cas who shrugged in return.

Charlie opened the closet. "I know I saw it. Oooh! Here!" She picked up the game and held it over her head triumphantly. "Never Have I Ever!"

"No, no, no, no." Dean stood up and intercepted Charlie. "Red, no one wants to know everything about everyone."

"You're a spoilsport, Winchester." Charlie pouted. A few other people agreed with her, causing Dean to roll his eyes.

"Do you all seriously think any of you are sober enough to play this?" He looked around and saw a mixture of heads nodding yes and heads shaking no.

Tags: AU - Modern Setting, They Were Roommates!, Idiots to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Platonic Cuddles, Ensemble Cast, Alcohol Use, Minor Drug Mention

Nothing You Confess (E, 5k)

Slowly, Cas opened his eyes and looked at Dean. "Dammit, Cas. I told you to not go dying me on again. Don't scare me like that." Dean hugged Cas tightly before helping him sit up. "Are you ok?"

Cas nodded and attempted to speak. When no sound came out, he squinted and looked at Dean. He pointed at his lips and then his ears while trying to speak.

"Cas, are you saying something?" Dean leaned in close, getting his ear closer to Cas' mouth. "There's nothing come out." Surprise and fear flashed across Dean's face. "Cas, did that spell do something to your voice?"

Cas' lips moved some more without sound before he resigned himself to the fact that he couldn't speak. He nodded at Dean.

Tags: Canon Compliant, Witches and Curses, Cursed Castiel, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Sammy Ships It, Cas/Dean First Kiss

Wargurl83 - Wargurl83

Call My Name (And Save Me From The Dark) (M, 31k)

Wardens and Vargar have long existed in sync with each other. Each Pack has an Alpha and a Warden that are bound together that makes the other stronger. The Novak pack was the first Vargar pack in Kansas, and remains the largest in the state- but that may not hold true for much longer. The Pack’s Warden was ripped away from them by murder, and her son stolen in the night before he could complete the ritual to formally become the Pack’s Warden. Now, the Novak Pack is being ground down by Demons and a rival Pack, one who’s Warden uses dark magic. Now, Castiel, the Alpha’s son, strikes out on a desperate search for his Warden- Dean Winchester. Can he find the man he’s loved since childhood? And even if he can, will it be enough?

Tags: Graphic depictions of violence, magic users, creature Cas, Destiel harlequin challenge

rauko-is-a-free-elf - @rauko-is-a-free-elf - FeaRauko

The God of Laundry and Hipbones (T, 1.8k)

This is a drabble for the prompt: Destiel - I’m sorry you caught me moving your clothes out of the dryer but in my defense I’ve been waiting for one to open up for about an hour now

Or...

That one where Dean catches Cas moving his laundry, gawks at him like an idiot until he leaves, and then spends the next several months not being able to find him

Tags: College!au, fic with art, dorm life, Dean's pink panties

MaggieMaybe160 - @maggiemaybe160 - MaggieMaybe160

Forget Me Not (T, 2k)

The angels aren't a fan of Dean and Cas having a relationship. They find a way to sabotage the relationship.

Tags: Major Character Death, torture. 

andimeantittosting - @andimeantittosting - andimeantittosting

The Winchester Affair (E, 34k)

Castiel Shurley has emerged from self-imposed exile to help see his sister safely wed. But when Hael discovers a priceless diamond brooch at the LaCroix ball, a villain finds the opening he needs, and Castiel finds himself in a nightmare.

Blackmailed by the odious Zachariah Adler, he is given one mission: to spy upon Dean, the handsome Marquess of Winchester, or see his entire family ruined. As he’s running out of time, Castiel has to make a choice—save his family, or risk it all to protect the man he has loved in secret since childhood.

Tags: Regency AU, Friends to Lovers, Friends with Benefits, Mutual Pining, Blackmail, Harlequin Challenge

Jemariel - @jemariel - jemariel

Witness Protection (E, 5.5k)

At first, it was an inconvenience. Now, it's their lifeline.

True mates from rival Families, Dean and Castiel fight to escape with their lives.

Tags: Mafia AU, Background Dean/Abaddon, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Dean, Alpha Castiel, No mpreg, Knotting, True Mates, star-crossed lovers, Dialogue Heavy, Clothed Sex, Little bit of graphic injuries

Head Over Feet (E, 9.5k)

Castiel's brother is getting married, and Cas's ex boyfriend is in the wedding party.

Putting an ad on Craigslist for a wedding date seems like a terrible idea at the time, but one of the responses is... very intriguing...

Sparks fly, boys dance, and everybody lives happily ever after.

Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Past Castiel/Inias, Strangers to Lovers, First Kiss, Slow Dancing, Frottage, Clothed Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Fluff and Smut

insominia - @a-insominia​ - insominia

In The Air Tonight (E, 3.5k)

It had been sixteen days since Dean Winchester had last made headlines. Not that Castiel was counting. Not that he had given it any thought at all.

Tags: Graphic Description of Violence, Murder Husbands, AU - Serial Killers, Blood and Gore, Masturbation, Psychopaths in Love

P.Cas. I Love You (G, 2.5k)

Dean Winchester is not a man of words and declarations of love do not come easy to him. Castiel is an angel and is so assured of his place in Dean's life that he does not need such affirmations. This is what Castiel understands to be true. Until Dean goes away.

Tags: Canon-verse, Established Relationship, Fluff, Domestic fluff, Dean Winchester needs to use his words

shealynn88 - @shealynn88​ - shealynn88

Another Day, Another Demon (T, 800 words)

Dean gets called in to handle a demon problem. The demon is…not what he expected.  (endverse!Cas as a demon, meet-cute. Or at least a meet.)

Tags: humor, fluff, meet-cute

Make a Deal With the Bad Wolf (M, 1k)

Dean is bitten and becomes something new. If only he knew what, exactly, that something new was.

Tags: A/B/O, alpha Dean, monster Dean, canon-level violence

MalMuses - @malmuses​ - MalMuses

The Shadow in the Corner (E, 48k)

As a high-ranking member of the Men of Letters, Lord Dean Winchester is overqualified to be investigating strange phenomena at a seaside photography studio. But since the photographer is related to the organization’s most powerful sorcerer, Dean reluctantly boards a steam dirigible to Brighton.

Castiel Novak is haunted by a shadow that appears in some of his recent portraits. In each case, the subject died within days of the sitting. Does he have his grandfather’s gift of foresight, or has he somehow caused the deaths?

As Dean and Cas search for answers, their investigation draws them together in a most improper way—but it seems the evil presence in the studio may not be their only enemy…

Tags: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Period-Typical Homophobia, Crossdressing Castiel, Strangers to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Lovecraftian Monster, Panky kink, A Ridiculous Amount of Sexual Tension.

Down to Suck (E, 5.5k)

Castiel and his vampire boyfriend Dean have been together for a couple of months, and Castiel is very happy with their relationship. But there is a little something else he'd like to add to their dynamic...and he has a sneaky, fluffy plan to get his way.

A timestamp in the Bat Dean 'Verse.

Tags: Bat Dean, Anxious Castiel, Vampire Dean Winchester, Miggles the Cat - Freeform, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, First Time Bottoming, Love Confessions, Established Relationship, Fluff and Crack, Additional Timestamp

Usarechan - @usarechan

Sunset

Postcard for Profoundzine Vol. 1 (SFW)

Angel Baby

My submission for the Profoundzine Vol. 1 (SFW)

[handeaux]

Some Cincinnati Street Names Still Honor Boss Cox’s Minions

On Friday, September 4, 1908 the Cincinnati Enquirer carried a substantial legal advertisement, comprising four columns of dense type announcing Ordinance 731 as ordained by Cincinnati City Council

“To change the names of certain streets, avenues, courts, terraces, places and alleys of the City of Cincinnati as designated therein.”

What followed was a list of hundreds of Cincinnati streets that, partially or completely, would receive new names by order of the city administration. The Enquirer, which had cozied up to the political machine of George Barnsdale “Boss” Cox, printed the ordinance without comment. The Cincinnati Post, a constant burr under the saddle of the Cox Machine (and therefore the recipient of no city advertising) smelled a rat. In that day’s edition, the Post identified the rodent:

“Cincinnati having no Hall of Fame, Cox’s Council has honored his faithful servants by naming streets after them. For, after erasing names of 50 old streets, Council has substituted names of its own members, and what streets were left were named for members of the Mayor’s office, the Service Board, the Police Department, the City Solicitor’s office, the City Engineer’s office, and even favored friends who don’t hold city jobs, but who do control certain and diverse votes.”

Buried in that long list of renamed streets were more than 50 for which the new name honored someone in the city administration, and everyone in the city administration owed their jobs to Boss Cox. Heading the list was Mayor Leopold Markbreit, whose name now graced the former Williams Avenue. The mayor pleaded humble ignorance:

“I tell you it’s impossible to tell when, or where, or how lightning will strike, likewise honors. A few years ago I never expected to have even a cat named after me. I’ll have to find out where Markbreit-av. is and see that it is kept clean.”

Vice Mayor John Galvin got a street in Lower Price Hill, where the former Belmont Avenue became Galvin Avenue. But it wasn’t just the top administrators who got their names assigned to street. The mayor’s secretary got a street in Avondale. A street in Fairmount was selected to recognize Louise Amthauer, stenographer to City Council (and the only woman on the list). Kuhfers Alley, between Findlay and Charlotte streets in Brighton still memorializes Police Detective Conrad Kuhfers. Hopkins Avenue in Avondale was renamed to honor Thirteenth Ward Councilman J.H. Asmann Jr.

While the Post went apoplectic, the Cox Machine blithely basked in the warm glow of their own genius. This was an era when political machines controlled quite a few American cities, from Boss Tweed’s Tammany Hall in  New York City, Frank Hague in Jersey City, and Tom Pendergast in Kansas City. All of them bought votes, handed out jobs to supporters and made legal (and criminal) difficulties disappear. Now Cox had a new reward system, one that cost a lot less than a financial bonus – name a street for your good friends!

Cox, to be sure, kept his fingerprints away from this little gambit. The outrage fell upon City Council. In particular, the ringleader was revealed to be Edwin O. Bathgate, representing the Eighteenth Ward on City Council. Bathgate sat on Council’s Streets & Parks Committee and submitted the names in that capacity. A loyal Cox foot soldier, Bathgate had recently been indicted for buying votes.

In fact, there was a perfectly good reason to change many of these street names. Cincinnati was engaged in a voracious annexation binge, and had gobbled up Westwood, Clifton, Avondale, Linwood and Riverside in 1894. Evanston, North Avondale and Bond Hill were still being digested. Many of the new neighborhoods had existed as separate villages for a long time and had streets with names identical to street already in Cincinnati.

Price Hill had Second, Third, Fourth and Fifth avenues, for example. There were two Hand streets; one in the West End and one in Winton Place. Both Hyde Park and Mount Auburn had Erie Avenues. Mount Auburn’s became Thayer and, later, Glencoe.

Winton Place and Westwood both had Epworth Avenues (evidence of strong Methodist congregations). Council decided that Westwood’s Epworth would become Bethany Avenue, but had not calculated on James N. Gamble, president of Procter & Gamble, having a fondness for the Epworth Avenue that ran by his church. City Council backed down and the Winton Place Epworth became East Epworth.

Gamble’s intervention reveals a pattern in the street changes – most took place in poorer neighborhoods and it was mostly the wealthier residents who objected. Saloonkeeper Louis Schueler, representing Cumminsville on City Council, named a street for himself. He told the Post [9 September 1908] that he didn’t think anyone would miss the former Mad Anthony Street:

“Cumminsville residents don’t appreciate history. Why, when I was in Council 15 years ago, they asked me to change the name of that street. They said they didn’t care what other name I gave it. As to naming it for myself, I lived on the street over 30 years.”

Schueler told the Post that those who objected to the change because of its historic significance (Wayne was a Revolutionary War hero.) were the “high-brows” of the ward. The high-brows must have won, because Mad Anthony Street is still there.

Price Hill objected to changing Fifth Avenue to Milwaukee Avenue, and the city relented, naming it Rosemont Avenue.

The Louisville Courier-Journal [ 13 September 1908] weighed in:

“The Cincinnati Councilmen have presumed to change the names of streets having historical significance to names of no dignity whatsoever, such as the names of local bosses, stenographers, letter carriers, janitors and Councilmen.”

The Post ran a front-page cartoon complaining that this eruption of political vanity was destined to destroy the real estate market. Some of the names were changed back or changed again, but many of Boss Cox’s henchmen are still remembered on our daily commutes.

[how-manygalileos]

and the songbird keeps singing - chapt1

a/n: hey gang, this is the first bit of actual writing i’ve done for juliette byrd, an oc i’ve had in the works for a little while. so yea, this is a little intro to her, idk if this will follow a traditional chapter based system, but we’ll see. enjoy!! :) xx

word count: 2265

the audition

February 2013

Juliette sat outside the small auditorium, her bass guitar in its case sat next to her. She looked around nervously and bounced her knee. She took a deep breath, the final stage of auditions. A couple of other performers were loitering around the same area. It felt like every single one of them was staring at her. Should she be warming up? Thinking about what she might say? Because she was the only girl in that room? Should she have prepared more? The person who called her about final call backs said the pieces she had already would be enough but she couldn’t help but worry.

“Juliette Byrd.” the audition director called out, catching her off guard and startling her slightly. She collected herself and picks up her guitar case, before hurrying into the room. She stood, exposed, on the floor of the black box theatre, a drum kit and guitar amps set up behind her. Brian May, Roger Taylor sat in the auditorium stalls along with who she assumed was a musical director of some sort and the woman who had called her into the room.

“So, Miss Byrd” Brian started.

“No please, call me Juliette - or Byrdie- I don’t mind”, she scolded herself slightly. She just interrupted Brian may. THE BRIAN MAY. She also wasn’t sure why she brought up ‘Byrdie’, it was just a stupid nickname her jazz band director had given her at secondary school. Brian smiled, putting her mind at rest slightly. “Juliette, tell us something about yourself” he continued. Juliette cleared her throat slightly.

“Hi, i’m Juliette, I’ve been playing bass for 15 years, I’ve got 8 years training in both classical and musical theatre singing, acting and dance, I’ve played in jazz bands, rock bands, theatre orchestras and--”

“Juliette” Roger cut her off, “we want to know about you, not why you think you’re qualified”. She felt her cheeks flush slightly.

“Uhh- umm…” Juliette fumbled with her thoughts, “My name is Juliette Devon Byrd. I was born on 18th October 1989 - uh - I’m from Brighton... I like music, nearly all genres, playing it, listening to it, writing it, most everything about it - um - I like cats, I had one called Chester growing up and he would sleep on my pillow most nights… I lived in London for a few years but moved back to Brighton a little over a year ago.”

“Why the move back to Brighton?” Brian asked

“Oh…” She wasn’t sure if she wanted to answer that, afraid it would result in too much pity, “November last year my mum got sick, she couldn’t work or look after my sister. So I came home to help her out.”

“You have a sister?” Roger asked

“Yeah, -well- half-sister. Her name’s Lauren and she turns 13 in April” by this point Juliette felt more comfortable, more settled into the situation.

“Oh! My youngest turns 13 in April too. How’s your sister finding school?” Roger said, Juliette was glad, and slightly impressed, that the conversation had quickly moved past her mother being ill and she felt she had made a personal connection.

“She’s doing really well, she’s a lot more clever than I am. She’s great at science, really likes biology specifically” Juliette beamed.

“You certainly sound very proud of her.” Brian acknowledged her warm smile and returned it.

“So, shall we try some playing?” the musical director chirped up, “Brian? Roger? And Juliette, if you want to get yourself set up” the two older musicians stood up and walked down to the area where Juliette was standing. Juliette opened her guitar case, pulling out her mint green Music Man StingRay and checked it was in tune. Roger sat at the drum kit behind her as Brian amped up the Red Special, Juliette followed suit, amping up her bass.

“You know Crazy Little Thing Called Love?” Brian said, catching her attention. He had set down the Red Special and picked up an acoustic.

“Of course,” Juliette replied, smirking slightly, before the jam session began. She played well, confident but still with a few mistakes that she put down to nerves. After Crazy Little Thing they played Another One Bites The Dust and then Dragon Attack. After that Juliette was asked to improvise a bass solo, which because of her jazz band experience she was quite good at. Juliette left the final call back feeling quite confident but didn’t want to get her hopes up and risk disappointment.

--

After the final candidate finished their audition, Brian and Roger sat alone in the auditorium for a moment, the other two members of the casting board having left the room already. In the background two roadies were packing up the amps and drum kit.

“What do you think then? Have we got our bassist, Rog?” Brian broke the silence between them.

“I think we might, there’s certainly a couple I have in mind.” Roger answered, “Of course, I don’t think we’ll know for sure until we do a proper performance with the rest of the band.”

“I’ve heard from Deaky,” Brian said, “I sent him an email about it last week, just the final shortlist and their CVs and headshots, that sort of thing… I didn’t really expect to get a response.”

“Well, It was an email about finding someone to, in a way, replace him… I’ve not heard much out of him in years” Roger said crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair slightly, “What did Birdman have to say then? Anything useful?”

“He did have one particular favourite by the sounds of things,” Brian started, “a certain, Miss. Juliette Byrd. She played Scaramouche on the West End, you know.”

“Oh, that was her,” Roger commented, “I thought she seemed familiar.”

“Deaky said that she was his favourite Scaramouche, he’s been to see a few different casts and apparently her performance style stands miles above the rest.”

“Great bassist too, definitely one of the most talented ones we’ve seen today.” Roger paused to think, “At any of the callbacks this week, come to think of it. Quite young though.” This wasn’t incorrect, Juliette was only 23, there were more experienced people they had auditioned.

“But then so was Deaky.” Brian reasoned, Roger nodded in agreement.

--

Juliette sat at the kitchen table refreshing her email over and over and her mobile with a full battery, ready to pick up should it ring. She was supposed to find out today. An email if she didn’t get it, a phone call if she did. At least that’s how it usually went.

“So today’s the day!” her childhood best friend puts her hands on her shoulders. Juliette jumped slightly.

“Katie!” she called out upon realising who it was, “what are you doing here?”

“Your sister let me in, couldn’t miss seeing you on the big day.” Katie had been there every time Juliette was to find out about a part or job she’s auditioned for. She put a bottle of prosecco and a cake box down on the table.

“It’s a little premature for that, isn’t it?” Juliette said, refreshing her emails again. Katie raised an eyebrow at her. “J.” she stated, in a somewhat disapproving tone, “You’ll get it, I know you will. You’re the best bassist I know.”

“I’m the only bassist you know.”

“Shut up. That isn’t the point. Don’t be a smart arse.” Katie said, pointing at her, “You’ll get it, and if you don’t then you have some decent booze to drown your sorrows with and cupcakes so you can eat your feelings.” Juliette shrugged in response and went back to obsessively checking her emails.

“Hey, don’t they only send you an email if you don’t get it?” Katie asks, reaching to close the laptop.

“I don’t know that, every audition process is different.” Juliette replied, reopening her laptop, “Anyway, I’d thought you’d be over at James’, being in the honeymoon phase and all.” Katie blushed slightly.

“I feel this is far more important, today I get to find out if little Juliette I went to nursery with is joining one of the biggest rock bands in the world.” Katie beamed, “Also he has a load of year 2 maths homework to mark, him and Liv said they’d come over later.”

Katie, James, Liv and Juliette had been a tight knit group of friends in secondary school, and tried to see each other as often as they could. Katie worked in a small cake shop in the middle of town, she had dreams of one day opening her own cafe and patisserie. James wanted to be a primary school teacher, he was finishing his final year of training so he was stressed. The main solace he had to distract him from said stress was the blossoming relationship he had started with Katie that summer just gone. Liv was a librarian, she had always liked books so it seemed the natural thing for her to be doing after they finished school. Even though Juliette was back in Brighton, she’d seen less of her school friends than when she was living in London. She was really happy her old friends were there to support her on the day her career could potentially change forever. Juliette refreshed her email a few more times, Katie rolled her eyes and walked over to put the kettle on. Juliette’s phone buzzed on the tabletop. She scrambled to grab it.

New message from Cian O’Doherty: Today’s the day, you heard yet J-byrd? :P

Juliette sighed, what an inopportune moment to receive a text. She had promised Cian that he’d be the first to know, but he was rather impatient. Katie looks over her shoulder.

“Cian O’Doherty?” she asks, “Isn’t that the Irish lad who was the year below us? Played rugby with James?”

“Uhh- yeah,” Juliette said absentmindedly refreshing her laptop, “he’s actually the one who got me the audition.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, he’s a session drummer, he’s got contacts in the industry and stuff.”

“Do you know yet?” Juliette’s sister, Lauren, bounded into the room excitedly.

“Not yet, Laur, no.” Juliette sighed, her sister gave her a sympathetic smile and went to sit at the kitchen table with the other two girls.

A half hour passed, Juliette obsessively refreshing her emails and checking her phone. She felt like she was going a little bit insane. She was about to give up, assuming she hadn’t got it. Suddenly, her phone rang. Juliette froze for a moment.

“What are you waiting for?” Katie practically screamed, “Pick it up!” Juliette reached for her phone and answered it.

“Hello?” She said somewhat nervously,

“Is this Juliette Byrd?” the voice said, she thought it was the woman from the audition, but she couldn’t be sure. There was then a knock at the door. Typical, she thought to herself.

“Yes, I am she.” she hated the way she phrased that, “Lauren, get the door?” she aggressively whispered before putting the phone back up to her face.

“I’m contacting you about last week’s audition for the bassist position...” the woman said, it was hard to gauge what she would say from her tone of voice. Lauren ran back into the room, Liv and James in tow.

“Did she get it? Do we know?” James asked,

“Shhhh!” his girlfriend scolded, “she’s still on the phone.”

“...Miss Byrd, I’m delighted to say that you have the job” Juliette’s heart skipped a beat, a wide smile crossed her face.

“What is it?” Liv asked

“Have you got it?” Katie asked louder, jumping up slightly. Juliette scowls at them and motions for them to shut up.

“...Congratulations, you’re the new member of Queen + Adam Lambert”

“That’s fantastic,” she said excitedly, “thank you so much, that’s incredible. Oh my goodness, I’m so happy to hear that.”

“So you go it?” Lauren almost screeched, Juliette shot a semi-playful glare at her sister who rolled her eyes in response.

“You should get an email in the next day or so with a basic setlist of songs you’ll need to have ready and the upcoming dates of any rehearsals,” the woman on the phone said, “you’ll also get your contract, if you could read through that and get a signed copy to us as soon as possible, that would be great.” Juliette was nearly bursting at this point, she felt like she could cry she was so happy.

“Of course, I’ll get that to you as soon as you can, thank you again so much.” She said grinning.

“It was my pleasure to tell you, Miss Byrd. Congratulations again.” The woman said before hanging up. Juliette put her phone down on the table, smiling widely and happy tears pooling in her eyes.

“I think I know,” Katie started, “but I need to hear you say it.”

“I got it.” Juliette exclaimed, “I’m Queen + Adam Lambert’s new bassist!” cheers and screams of joy filled the room.

“J, that’s incredible!” Katie cried, wrapping her arms around here old friend. James popped the prosecco and poured five glasses as Liv and Lauren joined the hug between Katie and Juliette.

“James,” Juliette called over her shoulder, “only a tiny bit for Lauren, she’s 12.”

“I know, J.” he said chuckling and passing out the glasses, “I’d like to propose a toast. To Juliette Devon Byrd, our new favourite rock star.” he said raising his glass.

“To Juliette Devon Byrd!” everyone chanted in response. Juliette hadn’t felt this happy in a long time, she didn’t think she would ever stop smiling. After the past year she’d had, it finally felt like things were looking up.

[rorybergstrom]

hello, it’s nora again.... hitting u with another child. this one is brand spanking new and a longhaired softboi who deserves tenderness. help me mould them into a fleshed out member of the human race with love and tender kisses. here’s the pinterest board 

it might be HIS JUNIOR year but I still think RORY BERGSTRÖM looks exactly like JACK KILMER and sometimes I think the DEMI-BOY is actually them. Of course I’m wrong, as they’re 23 and studying MUSIC TECHNOLOGY while living in BRIGHTON here at Lockwood. The PISCES can be rather ECCENTRIC and METHODICAL, but also kind of HESITANT and DOGMATIC. Their most played song on Spotify was LOSING MY EDGE by LCD SOUNDSYTEM, so I think that says a lot.

half-swedish, half-british. the swedish is on his mother’s side. he’s bilingual but thinks in english. only really speaks swedish around his mother. only child, and kinda put a lot of pressure on himself to be the Perfect Kid when he was young, but his parents are honestly, quite decent? and just want him to have a nice life, they don’t care if he isn’t successful or rich or anything, they’re honestly rather solid. (wow imagine having Nice Parents, a first for all my characters, im literally this meme)

was studying sound engineering at brighton before it burnt down and now doing music technology at lockwood because it’s the closest thing they offer in terms of transferable modules. pretty goddamn pissed about the whole sitch tbh

grew up in peckham, a suburb of london. growing up, his mum was a model / actress / waitress who later retrained as a speech therapist and his dad worked in her majesty’s service at buckingham palace. his dad wasn’t allowed to tell his family what his job entailed but rory suspects it’s probably very boring and just involves a lot of.... logistics n security.

was bullied a lot at school. [cole sprouse voice] he didn’t fIT iN AND HE DIDN’T wANT TO fIT iN. unironically wore a trenchcoat to school every day of his life. spent most of his lunchtimes in the library because it was his Safe Space. as a result he knows.... loads of useless information because 30% of his school years were spent reading anthologies on space and the vikings etc. would be good on a game show. obsessively recorded every episode of university challenge as a child.

favourite film is where the wild things are. also loves the florida project.

has been musical for as long as they can remember. first picked up guitar because he thought it would make this girl esther who he was in love with like him, but he just ended up falling in love with music instead. 

formulated several different bands as a kid but ultimately had to give it up cos he was quite controlling and got fixated on making a certain sound so it wasn’t really fun for the others. got into electronic music because it was something he could do basically on his own and keep tweaking until he got it perfect

always drumming their fingers or strumming invisible guitar strings. tends to avoid parties bc he has quite has specific tastes when it comes to music and doesn’t like listening to r&b for eight hours while people throw up into plastic cups. 

a techno connoisseur. has been making electronic music since he was about twelve.

after his parents divorce, when he was fourteen, rory & his mother moved to run-down suburban neighbourhood, pittsfield, massachussets.

big into photography. he mostly uses a canon 35mm camera, but occasionally uses disposable ones when he wants that more rustic feel. 

moving to the states, their photography became more focused on suburban neighborhoods and are often quite dark and cinematic (think gregory crewsden). here are some shots of pittsfield i really like which rory has on his wall [1] [2] [3]

falls in love 12 times a day. never had a girlfriend or boyfriend. gets sweaty when someone cute looks at him. flirting?? what?? would prefer to idealise them from a distance

gender??? hm. doesn’t really know where they fit yet, sometimes he feels like a guy and sometimes they doesn’t feel like anything at all. isn’t really bothered, cos they think it’s a social construct anyway. uses he/they pronouns interchangeably, but feels like ‘he’ is more fitting. won’t necessarily pull anyone up on it cos he knows having an identity that’s constantly.... in flux.. can be annoying for others ... and doesn’t want to be a burden EVEN THO it isn’t at all?? he internalises guilt

everything is socially constructed. mirrors let you move through time. the whole thing's a metaphor. he thinks he's got free will but really he's trapped in a maze. in a system. all he can do is consume. people think it’s a happy game. it’s not a happy game — it’s a fucking nightmare world, and the worst thing is, it’s real and we live in it

has ocd. tries to let it affect his life as little as possible, but obviously it’s incredibly hard to control a compulsive disorder. was teased for it at school when other kids started to notice. he was obsessed with the number five, would wash his hands five times, count stairs i groups of five, he could only use the corridors in one direction and always had to keep his hands busy. it manifests itself in hyper-fixations (trains when he was a child -- specifically steam engines -- then later he became obsessed with space and the patterns of constellations, and now he’s obsessed with synthesizers) and repetitive behaviours like counting stairs. doesn’t really affect his social life at all, he can jst get a bit locked-on n hyper-focused sometimes. 

has insomnia. barely ever sleeps. finds it hard to switch off from work / writing / gaming / whatever’s preoccupying him in that moment. he’s always awake at 5am and quite often sleeps in through classes but still gets really good grades because he’s very good at his course. rarely attends classes. prefers to work independently. doesn’t really trust his tutors are intelligent enough to be teaching him, and is particularly suspcious of the lockwood tutors. a music snob tbh

secretly a small-scale drug dealer, only does weed n some party pills. had cannabis plants growing in brifghton but basically lost most of it in the fire. rollerskates around campus dealing cos they dnt have a car

aesthetics: bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and drumming into blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, watching vine compilations until your eyes turn square, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars

likes: techno, the webpage cats on synthesizers in space, allen ginsberg, vintage gramophones,  floating points, lcd soundsystem, marijuana, soft dogs that let you pet them, late-night strolls talking about the universe, independent films, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, constellations, photography, late night jazz, vintage game boys and girls who could rip his still-beating heart out of his chest and use it as an ashtray. dislikes:  weddings, funerals, formality, button-up shirts that people actually button-up, bananas, hot coffee, social media, people who watch and play sports, rap music -- especially of the misogynistic variety, indie wankers in wire-framed glasses that play ed sheeran songs at open mic nights.

[acuppellarp]

♬ Full Name: Lacey Renee Mikhailov ♪  FC: Abigail Cowen ♫ Alternate FCs: Odette Annable, Alexis Knapp, Casadee Pope, Bella Thorne ♪ Age/Birthday: 23 / October 30, 1995 ♫ Occupation: Baker at Snickerdoodle’s Bakery, cheerleader for April’s Showers ♪ Hometown: Sandusky, OH ♫ Personality: generous, stubborn, guarded, sheltered, ambitious

Take one part warm Ohio summer nights spent chasing fireflies through wide open feels, two parts Sunday church services, three parts abandonment issues, and one part good, traditional Russian cooking, and you have the recipe for Lacey Mikhailov’s childhood. While she won’t go into too many details if asked about it, she likes to tell people that her youth was everything she could’ve hoped for, and to an extent that’s true. Would she have liked to have a mother who was present rather than someone who spent every opportunity away from home? She absolutely would have. But when Brenda Mikhailov got pregnant young by a man she met in a fit of passion one night, it laid the groundwork for what would be Lacey’s life spent with her grandfather as her source of emotional and physical support.

There was never an official discussion about Ilya raising Lacey full-time; it just sort of gradually happened. Brenda asked him to babysit for a day and it ended up being the whole weekend. She said she would take Lacey to her doctor’s appointment, and then call up Ilya last minute to say she couldn’t and he would have to. By the time Lacey started school, it was automatically assumed that her grandfather would be the one to sign her up and take her to her first day, something he did with a giant smile and about three dozen photos snapped and added to a scrapbook that’s still sitting on Lacey’s bookshelf to this day. When Brenda told Ilya that she wanted to “see the world” and move out of state later that year, there wasn’t even a question on if Lacey would be going with her or not. Brenda packed her bags and gave her daughter and father a hug, and then drove off without seemingly any second thought.

Despite growing up outside of the traditional nuclear family unit, Lacey didn’t want for anything. She never knew Brenda as her mother, so her loss didn’t sting much during childhood. Ilya wouldn’t let it. Instead, he would spend their time after he got off of work and she got home from school in the kitchen, showing Lacey how to sift flour and press dough to her heart’s content. Back in Russia, he’d been a baker by trade, and watching his granddaughter fall in love with it was nothing short of beautiful. Lacey always insisted on making homemade treats for her school’s Halloween and Christmas parties, and that’s when she came to love the expression on people’s faces when they first tried her creations.

When she as in middle school, her aunt Dory moved in to give Ilya a hand raising Lacey, and the three of them became a family that was thick as thieves. Ilya and Dory were at every science fair, church program, and poorly-played volleyball match of Lacey’s life and she couldn’t imagine it any other way. Last she heard, her mother had settled somewhere in Washington where she married and had three replacement kids whom Lacey has never met. She doesn’t even know if her step-father or half-siblings know she exists, but she tries not to think about it too much. If you ask her, she drew the best lot in life. She would express to her Aunt Dory (not her grandfather, never her grandfather — the last thing she would want is for him to think he was anything less than amazing) about how it hurt to think about her biological mother not wanting her, something that is still painful to think about even now that Lacey has grown. Dory would assure her that it was entirely Brenda’s loss, but that has never completely dulled the ache.

Losing Ilya was painful, but not entirely unexpected. Lacey was in her junior year of college at the time, earning an obligatory business degree in the hopes of one day opening her own bakery. Saying good-bye to the person who taught her everything she knew definitely left her feeling lost, and she wound up taking the following semester off of school because she simply didn’t have the capacity to give it the focus it deserved. To this day four years later, she still doesn’t really know what compelled her to go to New York in the first place. She’d talked it over with her family and friends, idly wondering if maybe a change of scenery would do her some good, and before she knew it her and her aunt were looking at flights for the East Coast.

It was originally meant to just be a vacation for the two of them, to help set a new pace now that her and Dory were learning to cope. But it’s like as soon as the plane touched down in the city, Lacey felt at home. They were only there for a week and a half, hitting up the city’s tourist traps as well as tracking down some little hole-in-the-wall places. Still, within the span of a few days after returning home to Sandusky, Lacey told her aunt she wanted to move out there for real. By the end of the year, Lacey found herself settling into the city, feeling both terrified and unbelievably proud all at once. Her grandfather had always told her to never hold herself back and being inNew York felt like the ultimate testament to that.

She finished up her last year of classes online and earned herself a degree in business, and was able to soon find a job at a bakery that her and her aunt had stopped by during her first visit. Currently, Lacey’s biggest source of pride has come from introducing a few recipes taught to her by he grandfather into the small business, which now offers a select range of Russian desserts courtesy of her. The next step is to actually invest in her own business, the same goal she’s had since she was little. Lacey’s vision board is filled with photos and inspiration to keep her focused on that goal, and every last bit of money goes into an account to help her get her feet off the ground.

Pets: Two cats with her, plus two more living with her aunt back in Ohio. The little babes in Ohio (Peanut Butter, or PB, and Jelly) were much too attached with her aunt’s dog and Lacey couldn’t bear to separate them. She adopted Eva and Zsa Zsa shortly after she moved to NYC. Zsa Zsa is definitely the more rambunctious of the two and likes to hide in places to spook Lacey (and now her roommates). Good luck opening a cabinet to not find her sitting in there. Eva is much more relaxed and introverted and likes to camp out on Lacey’s pillow, but she’ll wander out to ask for pets every so often.

♬ April’s Growers

Lacey has an entire lifetime’s worth of love to give and was raised knowing the importance of giving back, so she recently signed up to join April’s little committee. She makes sure to give her fellow members nothing but support, but she does struggle when it comes to voicing her own ideas. She’s working on it though, and the more comfortable she becomes in the group, she hopes to be able to give it her all without hesitation.

♪ Jemma Sterling

Coming from a small city, Lace way underestimated how much she’d be able to live by herself in New York. She was able to rent a room from a nice little Russian couple in Brighton Beach for a while, but ultimately decided to move closer to work and ended up finding a roommate in Jemma. She is… more than a bit intimidated by how open and free Jemma is with herself, and she’s seen more of her naked than she ever planned on, but Lacey can appreciate how to-the-point and amusing her roomie is.

♬ April’s Showers Cheerleaders

Lacey loves spreading positivity and showering people with support, so when she first became aware of the little cheering squad for the soccer team, she jumped right in to join. She enjoys all the other ladies, and despite knowing almost nothing about sports, she’s trying to at least get to know them better and have them teach her the ins and outs of soccer.