#DJ service pack

[casinoknightusa]

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[casinoknightus]

DJ | Casino Knight

[azzyangelfish]

Eyes Like An Angel

By: azzyangelfish

Read it, or don’t…idk I hope you like it :3

Eyes are the windows to the soul. At least that’s how Christian remembered the saying. It didn’t make much sense to him when he had first read it, how could someone’s irises and pupils show a clear picture of who they were? That didn’t make any sense. Until he met him.

The wedding reception was simple but elegant, with a buffet-style food service, plenty of seating, the cake in the center of the dining room, and a large dance floor complete with a DJ setup.

Christian hadn’t had the time to say hello to anyone besides the pack before the ceremony, as he had been helping the mates get ready. However, now that the reception was underway he had started to mingle with the other guests. The first person he met was a girl who looked to be in her early twenties. Her jet-black hair was braided into a neat bun with gold jewelry that complimented her navy blue dress. What took Christian back was her eyes. Behind the golden frames of her glasses were her dark brown, nearly black, eyes. Despite their dark colour, Christian couldn’t help but feel as though he was being pierced by her gaze.

“Hello! You must be a member of the Shaw Pack?” Her voice was soft but sweet, holding her hand out for Christian to shake.”Oh, hi, yes I am. My name is Christian. And you are?” He took her hand and shook it, noticing how easygoing she was. “Nice to meet you, I’m Griffin, that’s my older sibling.” Griffin gestures to Angel who is currently talking to Arden. Christian was taken aback for only a moment before really taking a closer look. He realizes that, while they may not look identical, one thing remains the same between the two siblings. Their eyes.

Angel’s eyes weren’t quite the same colour as Griffin's, but the sharpness of their gazes remained the same. Christian knew that Angel was a middle child but he had never actually met either of their siblings. “Nice to meet you. I wasn’t aware that any of their family members were informed.” Christian mentioned casually, generally curious but not wanting to sound nosey. Griffin giggled softly and leaned against the table behind her, “Yeah, actually both myself and my brother are informed. I’m informed because of an incident that happened when I was younger. The Department couldn’t safely wipe my memories so I was just given informed status. I’m a paramedic back home. It's a cornerstone city like Dahlia so I deal with both empowered and unempowered people.” She says while taking a sip of her drink. Christian nodded softly, and, despite being his nosey self, decided to refrain from asking questions about whatever incident had led to her being given informed status.

Just as Christian was about to ask something, Arden came by. “I see you met Chrissy.” She teased and Christian rolled his eyes. Griffin smiled and a little bit of blush dusted her cheekbones. “Guess so, and you are?” The unempowered girl had shifted her gaze to Arden and it seemed as though Arden had no issues with that. Deciding to leave the two, very clearly flirty, pair alone, Christian made his way to the bar.

It was an open bar, and it wasn’t super busy at the moment. While waiting for his drink, Christian glanced around the room. Asher and his mate were sitting with Tank and Sam, seemingly chatting. Milo and Stealth were engaged in an expressive conversation with a few of the Keyton Pack members. Gregory Keyton was talking to Angel, who was laughing while David appeared to be blushing beside them. It was nice to see the pack not only together, but also to see them celebrating such a momentous occasion for the pack.

“Is this seat taken?” A low, smooth voice asked which startled Christian out of his thoughts. ‘Oh uh no.” The shifter turned around to see who he was talking to and locked eyes with a man who just so happened to have the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. The man smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he did. He had on a navy blue suit with a navy blue tie to match. “Do you mind if I sit here?” He asked, his voice was deep but not at all gravely. Christian just shook his head and shuffled over. The man smiled again and sat down. He looked about Christian’s age, maybe a year or two older, with dark brown hair slightly bleached in some places, and hazel eyes that Christian swore looked bronze.

“Wonderful, thank you. My name’s Declan by the way. You are?” Christian felt the tips of his ears turn red. Why is this guy flustering him so much? “I’m Christain, uh, I’m a member of the Shaw Pack.” He said and looked back to Declan who nodded. “Ah, my younger sibling is your alpha’s mate.” The dots suddenly clicked for Christian. That entire family must all have that same piercing gaze, but Declan’s was weirdly comforting. To Christian, it felt like Declan was giving him a warm hug with just one look. “Oh, you’re their older brother? Also informed from what Griffin said?” Christian asked, to which Declan nodded and smiled once again. “Yep that’s me, and yes, also informed. I’m a SAR technician, I work with a few wolf shifters.” Christian nodded again, he wanted to keep talking to Declan. Christian felt his core thrum with energy every time that Declan talked and he felt happier than he had in a while.

“Are you here with anyone?” Declan asked before Christian could. The shifter shook his head and took a sip of his drink. “No, I’m by myself. Are you?” Christian asked and looked at the other man. He hoped that the answer was no. Declan shook his head. “Nah, I’m on my own too. Although everyone has been very welcoming.” He added and looked back at Christian, “Sorry if this is too forward, but can I just say that you have a beautiful smile?” Christian felt a blush spreading across his cheeks and he smiled bashfully. “No, it’s not too forward at all! Um, you have pretty eyes…they’re kind of like an angel.” It was Declan’s turn to blush but he moved a bit closer to Christian and leaned down a bit so that they were at eye-level. “Well, aren’t you sweet? Would you like to dance with me?” He asked while looking up to see that people had started heading to the dance floor. Christian blushed but nodded a bit more vigorously than he meant to. “Yes please, I would love to.” Declan smiled and took his hand, pulling Christian to his feet and leading him over to the dance floor.

The songs were a mix of slow dances and more upbeat dance music. Declan stood at just about half a foot taller than Christian, and he gently guided the pair through the first few dances. For the remainder of the reception, Christian was either dancing with Declan or talking to other guests with Declan at his side. By the end of the night, he had his number and a promise of a date later that week.

“So I’ll see you on Thursday then?” Declan asked while handing Christian his phone back after typing in his number. Christian nodded and blushed as Declan’s hand brushed against his. “Yeah, Thursday at Max’s” Christian confirmed and slipped his phone back in his pocket. Declan smiled and held Christain’s hand in his own, squeezing it gently. “See you then, love.” He said before giving his hand one last squeeze and heading out the door.

Christian stood there with a stupid grin on his face until Asher found him. “Oh, there you are Chris-whoa!” The beta looked quizzically at Christian. “Dude, are you ok? Why are you smiling so hard? Also who were you with all night?” Christian rolled his eyes but couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. “I got a date with Declan.” Asher’s jaw dropped. “You got a date with our alpha-mate’s older brother!?!?” Angel, who heard this, peaked around the corner and grinned. “Arden got a date with my sister!”

[lucawrites11]

what is a phryge?

part of the evie-verse

chapter five: the number ten

Bordeaux. 

They’d been a lot. It wasn’t Evie's favourite away day while they were at Lyon, that award went to anything along the South Coast of France, but it wasn’t the worst away day in the world. That went to Wolfsburg in the Champions League. Evie declared that there was nothing to do there but look at car things. 

Lucy kept the rental they’d got for their trip to the beach to trip them to Bordeaux. She was dropping the car in Bordeaux for a flight to Lyon. She had a backup plan to get them to Paris too in case Spain came second in the group but she was more prepared for Lyon.

The only downside was that she had to drive almost four hours to Bordeaux from Nantes. She decided to leave early when the roads were empty and Evie was still sleeping. She packed everything into the car the night before and carried Evie down in her pyjamas at six the next morning and got her set up in the car seat with a travel pillow around her neck. She didn’t even wake up. She’d stayed up late when they’d gone to dinner after the match. 

Lucy did one final sweep of the hotel room, the car wasn’t hot and she had a baby monitor in there with Evie, and they’d left nothing behind. She dropped the key card and made sure Evie had food and clothes right next to her for when she woke up and started the drive. She managed three hours in with no breaks before Evie woke up, a little confused. 

“We’re on the way to Bordeaux,” Lucy reminded her, she’d told her the night before. She pulled into the nearest services as Evie slowly woke up and realised she needed to pee. 

Two pain au chocolat that Evie talked her way into later and she'd somehow also talked her way into the front seat. Lucy turned the airbags off and started on the last forty minutes of the drive to the soundtrack of Evie's subpar DJ-ing. 

read on ao3

[wordywarriorwrites]

Burning Hearts

Burning Hearts | A03 | Master List | Rating: M

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F! Reader

Summary: Frankie gave you up for all the right reasons, but he just can't seem to let you go...

Pairing: Frankie Morales X F! Reader, Triple Frontier AU

Warnings: Language. Smut. Mentions of violence.

It’s well past last call, but the bartender pours Frankie another without him having to ask.

He knocks it back and chases the burn with a long drag off his cigarette. The combination of nicotine and booze gives him a pleasant buzz, but his favored tried-and-true vices bring him no relief.

All the club’s patrons shuffled out about an hour ago, but the staff carries on, seemingly content to remain open just to wait on him. Frankie knows they won’t cut him off or boot him out, but the need to maintain appearances, at least in public, prompts him to reach for his wallet.

He doesn’t pay for drinks – not at this particular watering hole – so, the Benjamin he slaps down on the counter is more for the speedy service and absence of questions than anything else. He stabs out his smoke, and when he gets to his feet, the peanut gallery on the peripheral of his pity party of one simply moves off to do other things.

An armed enforcer – especially a drunk one, out after hours and clearly spoiling for a fight – would prompt most people to run for cover, but the strippers are pros, and the guards don’t flinch easily. Plus, Frankie’s part owner, which means he can do whatever the fuck he wants, and what he wants, more than anything, is to see you.

So, he gives in to the urge.

He walks by the stage, tips the lone dancer for still bothering to put on a show, and salutes both the DJ and bouncer as he exits out the back. His driver is seated behind the wheel of his always-at-the-ready Bentley, and Frankie parks his ass on the supple, buttery leather of the backseat for the journey. By the time he reaches your estate, he’s sobered up a bit, answered all the texts he’s been ignoring, and pulverized about a half-dozen mints into the grooves of his molars.

The security guys at the gate know who he is. They take pity on him, allowing his vehicle to pass and continue on up the winding driveway. As the car crests the small hill, Frankie’s eyes sweep over the acreage, taking note of the tables and chairs set up on the grass. There are also at least a dozen catering trucks and twice as many hands, all busily taking apart centerpieces, pushing overflowing bins of linens, packing away decorations, and breaking down a podium, dance floor, and sound system.  

There are other armed guards – way more than usual, in fact. Vested bodies dressed in black, with their intimidating visages dispersed in strategic places along the peripheral and in blind spots. Frankie isn’t nervous; he knows they’re on the job, and he doesn’t intend to do anything that would spur them or their semi-automatics into action.

Foregoing the bell, he uses the knocker, allowing the old, iron lionhead to wallop against the mahogany front door. Your head of security, Will Miller, answers promptly, weapon drawn and ready for action. He’s young and a bit tetchy, but he’s got sharp eyes and knows how to handle himself. Will’s been by your side for years and takes his job very seriously, and though Frankie would never admit it aloud, he’s relieved the guy is ready and able to protect you with unhesitating ruthlessness.  

“Morales,” Will greets tersely. “State your business.”

“I just wanna see her,” Frankie replies without preamble.

He scoffs and curls his upper lip, but before he can reply with something undoubtedly and deservedly curt, your voice lilts through air.

“William?” you call out. “Who is it?”

It’s clear by Will’s thunderous expression that Frankie’s unexpected arrival has caused a disruption of the regularly scheduled programming. He’s positive the guy is just itching to plug him, but that doesn’t happen. Instead of being pumped full of lead, a quiet exchange between you and Will takes place, ending with him re-holstering his weapon and you graciously inviting Frankie inside.

The polonaise runner just beyond the threshold guides Frankie into the foyer, the hardwood floor beneath it polished to a high shine and positively gleaming under the soft light emitting from the chandelier hanging overhead. The ornate mirror situated above the marble console in the entryway reveals his slumped profile and wrinkled suit, and Will’s unimpressed sneer is all it takes to get him to straighten his tie and square his shoulders.

Will resets the alarm, and takes your slight nod and murmured thanks for the polite dismissal it is. Once he’s gone, you motion for Frankie to follow you, traversing a familiar path toward the kitchen. He clocks the sway of your hips as he trails behind, paying no mind to the cleaning crew who stops mid-task to hurriedly make themselves scarce. The chef and small army of assistants packing up leftovers and scrubbing the hell out of cookware are just as respectful, filing out in a silent, quick procession.

The two of you are alone, so, you play hostess, going for the fridge and emerging with a bottle of Voss in hand. After placing it on the island within his reach, you move off, and the physical distance between you isn’t lost on him. It hurts, but affords Frankie the opportunity to take you in. Louboutin heels. Trendy cocktail dress with a modest hem length and neckline. Tasteful jewelry, light make-up, and hair pinned back in an elegant twist.  

You’re straight-up class. And so far beyond his reach.

You – blue-blooded and born into generational wealth. Him – a nobody from nowhere. Your name commands respect. His incites fear. You’re an admired, contributing member of the community, full of kindness, and always willing to help. He’s a trigger man, constantly on the precipice of chaos, dragging around a sordid reputation, and always ready to run.

You’re the real deal. You’ve got the pedigree that demands a high-class match with someone important. Someone who doesn’t have a permanent target on his back. Someone safe, who doesn’t always have to fight, fuck, kill, or steal to keep what he’s got. And he knows – damn it, he knows he’s not worthy…   

“Why are you here, Frankie?” you prompt gently.

Thoughts grinding to a halt and at a loss for the right words, he simply shrugs. The picture of patience, you remain silent, which is just as well. He knows he can’t keep doing this to himself or to you. He needs to do right by you. He needs stay the fuck away, but it’s always so much easier said than actually done.

In fact, it hasn’t been that long since he last saw you. A month, maybe? He wondered then, as he does now, if you’ve moved on because he certainly, obviously, hasn’t. And the thought of anyone else touching you? The mere idea of you with another? Someone who could be part of your world, whose mere presence wouldn’t put your life at risk? It makes Frankie reexamine both you and his surroundings with a more observant, suspicious gaze.

Beyond the obvious chaos of a messy kitchen is a small chef’s table, and on the surface, a half-eaten chartreuse board and an open bottle of Merlot. Two pieces of stemware; one stained with lipstick matching your shade, and the other, blemished by the remaining inch of red at the bottom. The lingering stench of a cigar. The presence of your favorite handbag on the chair.

What he perceives amounts to nothing more than a collection of assumptive, so-called evidence that fits the wild narrative in his mind. Still, Frankie seethes with jealousy. Mind and body all tilt-o-whirl, he snarls – deep and nasty, like he’s some sort of fucking animal protecting his territory, but you don’t balk. Instead, you reach for your clutch, pop the clasp, and fish out what looks like a folded piece of paper.

“The charity fundraiser was this evening, remember?” you explain without any guilt or guile. “Pope asked for a private audience after. Apparently, I forgot to rescind his invitation.”

Frankie runs the pad of his thumb over his lower lip, eyes narrowing at the nondescript check you slide across the island’s countertop. Temper unjustifiably flared and now subsequently doused, he snatches up the proffered bottle of water, uncaps it, and forces gulps past the fist-sized lump in his throat.

Fuckin’ Pope. When it comes to making money, he’s merciless, indiscriminate, and not one to let personal feelings get in the way of business dealings. Of course, he’d want to rub elbows with your people. His presence at your soiree, along with Will’s trigger-happy mood, and all the extra staff and guards? It makes complete sense.

But a one-on-one so late afterward? It must’ve been important – something urgent that couldn’t be spoken of in mixed company or discussed over the phone. There are only so many things a man like Pope and a woman like you would have to talk about. Last Frankie knew, the police were still sniffing around, and the lawyer you have on retainer is having a fucking field day, but the heat isn’t bad enough to warrant a face-to-face.

Then again, maybe Pope sought you out for personal reasons and professional gains. Pairing up with the big Boss would guarantee your continued safety and silence a lot of wagging tongues. Your connections would also open up a plethora of new revenue streams, providing Pope with unfettered access to some very deep pockets. Shit, Frankie can practically hear Pope listing the mutual benefits, spinning the rationale of it all, and it makes him feel sick.

Sick and absolutely fucking murderous.

You’re an honest, good woman. All that forthrightness and decency – it’s right there, in your beguiling, steady gaze. And you’re not stupid. In fact, you’re too damn smart for your own good, and the thought of you putting yourself at risk makes Frankie itchy all over. You’re so disarmingly calm, while he’s barely fucking holding it together, and damn it, he has to know for sure…

“Did Pope –” Frankie croaks, scraping a hand through his hair. “Did he ask you to do something for him? Or want to take you out on like, a date, or whatever?”

Lips parting in shock, you blink as if taken aback, and that’s answer enough. Relief buoys and deflates him, and Frankie downplays his seesawing emotions and outlandish, self-sabotaging thoughts by moving over to the table and busying his hands. He pokes at the slices of baguette and the cubes of gourmet cheese. Feigns interest in the thinly sliced prosciutto. Tilts the wine bottle to glance at the label.

None of it interests him because the only thing Frankie’s interested in is you. He gave you up for all right reasons, but still, the feelings you stir inside of him, and the white-hot desire he has for you – they’ll never go away. They roll through him now, stronger than ever; dark possessiveness and furious agony punching him in the gut and pulsing between his legs and clawing at his already tender, bleeding heart.

Frankie met you while scouting some swanky restaurant ripe for poaching, and after cajoling you into abandoning a dinner party, he somehow talked you into drinks, and then, seduced you into his bed. What should’ve been an amazing one-night stand morphed into eight months that quite literally rocked his world. Your acceptance of who he is, your ability to compartmentalize, the way you simply fit in and adapted to his extremely fucked up reality – hell, if the shoe were on the other foot, Frankie’s not sure he could’ve risen to the occasion or withstood it.

What he’s found and experienced with you – it’s fucking lightning in a bottle. Insane, magical, incomprehensible. It never happens for guys like him because guys like him don’t get the girl or the happily-ever-after. Too good to be true? Maybe. Was he in too deep? Absolutely. But it didn’t matter if you were ignorant or a willing participant – it was dangerous either way.

And Pope’s not just the Boss – he’s Frankie’s best friend. His brother. And Frankie’s a loyal soldier – has been since the two of them were in diapers. Yes, he’s in love with you, and if you moved on, he’d get over it eventually. Someday. Maybe. But if you moved on with Pope? He wouldn’t – couldn’t – survive that. And because he’s a fucking glutton for punishment, he has to ask the million-dollar question.

“What if he wanted to?” Frankie asks, pressing his thumb into what he believes is a hunk of Parmesan Reggiano and mashing it flat. “Would you consider it?”

“Consider what?” you wonder. 

“Being with him?”

A sharp breath. A ragged exhale. Your lower lip trembles before it gets bitten into submission by your teeth, and when you meet his gaze, he sees his own pain reflected back at him a thousand times over.

You tell him to leave, heels tap-tap-tapping as you hastily move for the intercom system, voice clipped and cold as you inform him a maid will see him out. He hasn’t just offended you; he’s hurt you, again, but a halting hand on your waist and a fervently whispered apology keeps you from the call button.

Frankie knows he’s got no fucking right – no right to question you or touch you, and certainly no right to step forward when you step back. He’s got no right to dig his fingers into your hip or press you up against the pantry door or burrow his nose against the crown of your head and slowly, greedily inhale.

“I’d fuckin’ kill him,” he growls. “If he ever – I swear, I’d fucking rip his throat out.”

You place your hand over his, and your touch is so soothing, immediately calming his too-hot temper like top-shelf whiskey. Your index finger ghosts over his knuckle tattoos. Ink that means nothing to outsiders, but showcases to anyone who knows his world just how dangerous he is. It’s the hand he uses to dispense justice; it’s scarred, tainted and stained with blood, yet, you touch it with such reverence, such fearlessness…

Frankie closes his eyes and rolls his jaw, “I shouldn’t have – I didn’t mean –”

“I wouldn’t,” you interject, words weighted and insistent. “Not ever.”

“You don’t – shit, you don’t need to tell me that,” he insists, shaking his head at his own uncouth stupidity. “Besides, it’s none of my business. And you’re right – I should go. I should go and stay gone.”

You let out a soft, contrary sound, “You shouldn’t have left.”

He swallows hard. You turn your head. Then, your nose and cheek are brushing against his jaw in a gesture of affection that settles something inside of him that’s too feral to define. Your palms gliding up his arms, along his shoulders, and down the expanse of his chest – it pulls him back from the ledge he’s been tiptoeing along since the day he said goodbye to you.

Frankie meets your eyes. Cups your cheek. Allows his thumb to caress your soft skin. You say nothing, but you look at him as if he’s the only one – as if there could never be another – and he wonders if you can tell that he feels the same way.

“I love you, Frankie,” you assert. “It’s always going to be you.”

“Cariño…” he sighs against your temple.

You’re braver – so much braver than he’ll ever be – and you’re the one who gives into it. You press your lips to the scruff covering his chin, and that gentle, achingly familiar prelude to a kiss destroys his already too-flimsy resolve. Frankie is the one surrendering to you, but you’re the one who yields to him, tilting your head back and opening up to his eager mouth.

He dreamt of you every night. Woke up every day to cold sheets. Had been unable to throw away your toothbrush or part with the half-full bottle of your shampoo. Was unwilling to change the lock screen on his phone from a picture of you to something less painful to look at. He couldn’t delete the playlist you made for him or stop buying the books you put in his Amazon cart. Your favorite fuzzy socks are still in his top drawer, tucked safely next to the pristinely folded, ridiculously threadbare boyband t-shirt you’ve had since you were a teenager.

You have no idea what you do to him. No clue about the kind of hell he’d raise for you, the bodies he’d put in the ground, the lives he’d destroy – all for you. He can’t explain it, not in words, so, he coveys it with his body. Seeking the taste of you with his tongue and searching for your skin with his hands. Sliding his thigh between your legs and rocking into you because he just wants to be close – he just wants to feel you, to lose himself inside of you, to make you smile at him again.

“Upstairs,” you whisper into his ear. “Come upstairs with me, Frankie.”

Powerless to resist, he follows you to the privacy of your room, located on the second floor at the very end of the hall. Jacket, belt, tie – you divest him of his modern-day armor, letting the pieces fall like petals leading up the path to the altar that is your California King-sized bed. Frankie’s shoulder holster is last, and once he’s placed his gun safely on the nightstand, you begin frantically working apart the buttons on his shirt.  

“Love you, cariño,” he pants as he yanks his arms free of the sleeves. “I love you so goddamn much.”

You kick off your heels before giving him your back, “Show me.”

Frankie lowers the zipper on your dress. Pushes at the straps. Watches the inky, supple material slip and slide off your figure. You work your panties down, ass teasingly meeting his crotch as you push the delicate silk and lace past your garter belt. Then, you ease down onto the bed, back hitting the downy comforter with a soft thud.

He’s palming himself through his pants, trying to decide where to start, and your thighs parting in invitation help him make up his mind. He kneels. Hooks his arms around your calves. Yanks you forward until your ass is practically hanging off the mattress. You let out a peal of laughter, and he grins up at you rather dopily as he hitches your legs over his shoulders.

“This okay?” he breathes against your calve.

You touch the tip of your tongue to your upper lip and nod, “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Are you?”

It’s impossible to miss the vulnerability and doubt in your eyes. Frankie knows he wasn’t the only one brokenhearted and that his mistakes hurt you both. An apology seems so inadequate, but he says it anyway, listing the litany of ways he intends to make it up to you, but only if you’ll allow it.

You cup his face and let out a sigh, “I just want you. That’s all.”

Frankie nods. Presses a kiss to your palm. Allows his lips and tongue to trace a path up your thighs, canines sinking into supple flesh along the way. He seeks the center of you with a parched tongue and fingers longing to touch, and when he reaches his destination, you cry out for him.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, suckling your clit and dipping his tongue inside for a taste. “Let me take care of you, cariño. Just let go for me, yeah?” 

Your left breast – plump, soft, and encased in silk – spills free when he yanks the cup of your bra down. Frankie pinches the hardened peak of your nipple, and you arch into his caress, clamping down on his fingers and writhing all over his face. You’re lost to it, just like he is, and when you come against his mouth, it’s indescribably beautiful.

“I need you,” you declare fervently. “Need you inside me, Frankie.”

He doesn’t heed your call until he makes you come again. When he does get to his feet, you’re boneless, but still, you sit up and reach for him. As soon as he’s popped the button on his pants and worked the zipper down, your hands are there, tugging at his boxers. You take him out and wrap your fingers around him, nice and snug, just how he likes. He’s leaking like a goddamn faucet, unable to stop his hips from pumping into your firm hold, and he has to put a halt to your teasing or risk coming in your hand. 

His boxers and pants are in a tangle over his shoes, but he manages to kick everything off and crawl into the soft pile of blankets and pillows after you. Frankie peels off your stockings. Winds your silky-smooth, bare legs around his waist. He kisses you, teasing you and bumping your clit with his hard length until you beg him for it.

He lines up. Pushes in. And then, it’s paradise – pure and true.

You twine your arms over his shoulders, pulling him down into the cradle of your embrace until he’s practically smothering you. Forearms braced on either side of your head and face buried into the crook of your neck, Frankie eases back and slowly thrusts forward to the hilt with a roll of his hips. You meet him halfway, tilting your pelvis up and bearing down, engulfing him in a fist-tight wetness that forces him to work for every deep stroke.  

“You feel so fuckin’ good, cariño,” he groans, smearing his lips along the hinge of your jaw. Frankie puts more effort and weight behind each thrust, hitting deep and keeping a firm, steady pace that he knows gets you off. “Did you miss this? Miss me?”

You mewl. Nod frantically. Forehead pressed to yours, he reaches for the bend of your knee and loops your leg over the crook of his elbow so he can put his back into it. Driving and grinding into you possessively, gaze fixated on yours, flitting between nipping at the tops of your breasts and licking into your mouth and sucking at the pulse point of your neck.

“N-no more,” you stutter, biting into the meat of his shoulder. “No more running, Frankie.”

Frankie nods and snaps his hips forward, “No more running.”

The promise is sealed with another kiss, and when you come for him again, Frankie loses what little finesse he still possesses. You encourage his rutting, whispering in his ear that you want it, that you need him to come inside you. And you’re so wet, he can hear it – how turned on you are, how good he makes you feel, and it’s so good – so goddamned good – that when he comes, his vision dims and all the noise in his head goes silent.

Save for your mingled, harsh breaths, it’s quiet. Peaceful. You welcome his weight on top of you, holding him, scratching at his scalp and kissing his forehead and running your hands up and down his spine. Affection, freely given, without any expectation or ulterior motive behind it. It reminds him of what he almost lost, and he vows to himself that he’ll never let you go again. 

Frankie looks up at you with sleepy, half-lidded eyes, “What did Pope actually want?”

“He begged me to take you back,” you reply, letting out an amused sound as you trace a fingertip over the shell of his ear. “Said he’d donate ten thousand dollars if I did.”

“Is that so? And what did you say?”

“I told him it wasn’t my decision. Then, he upped the offer to twenty, so, I said I’d think about it.”

Frankie snorts and squeezes your waist, “Oh, I bet he hated that.”

“Well, you’ve apparently been a real pain in his ass lately,” you reply with a nonchalant shrug. “So, I told him to donate fifty, and that I’d call him when you came to your senses.” 

He laughs – full-bodied and freely. He kisses you – proud of the hard bargain you drove. And once Frankie’s tucked into bed beside you, absorbing your warmth into his cold bones, he makes a mental note to thank Pope for his meddling in the morning.

[impala-dreamer]

Sweet Creature

A Supernatural Story

~Bad things happen when you take matters into your own hands and try to prove that love conquers all~

Demon!Dean x OFC Stevie Miller 

3138 Words

NSFW, Danger, Angst, Violence, Blood, Death

“Are you willing to bleed for me?” for @jacklesversebingo

JacklesBingo Masterlist ~ Full Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

It was certainly a risk believing him, but she had no choice. 

Sam was going insane, trapping demons and slicing them open until they talked. Usually, they didn’t, and things got even bloodier. 

Cas was- well, she really wasn’t sure what was going on with Cas, but it probably wasn’t good. 

Nothing had been good since their encounter with Metatron. Nothing had been right since Dean’s bloody body had been laid out on his bed and wiped clean. No one had been at peace since he disappeared. 

Despite the shit storm life had become, it was somehow getting worse. 

Stevie was about to give up completely and hide herself away for a month with a couple cases of Tito’s and enough Takis to burn a hole in her gut, but fate stepped in. And this time, fate came in the form of a text message from the King of the Jackasses himself. 

Crowly reached out to Stevie and sent her Dean’s location, claiming he was done with babysitting the demonic mess. She almost laughed. How many times had she been tasked with watching a tied-up, pathetic Crowley, and there he was begging her to trade places? Seemed fitting. 

It immediately crossed her mind that it might be a trap and not a very well-planned one at that, but what choice did she have? To wallow away in the Bunker while Sam went slowly mad in the next room? To give up and go back home to the sticks and try to build a solid, respectable life? No. There was only one thing she could do, so she packed up her car and hit the road, following the GPS and daydreaming of the fight to come. 

It wouldn’t be easy to bring him back. She knew it would take every ounce of strength she had just to see him there, walking and talking, infested with demonic life. She wondered if she’d be able to stand it. 

Dean had always been the light in her life. He was the beacon in her storm, the icon in the chapel of her heart. For years, she’d tangled herself up in him, giving up a normal life and a hopeful future in service of Dean Winchester. She’d stayed by his side through every rough patch; held his hand each time the earth opened up to swallow him down. She never asked for anything in return, holding on for a sweet smile or a gentle kiss at night. 

Long ago, she realized that she would follow no matter where he went. No matter the price, she would pay it. Heaven, Hell, Limbo- she’d be by his side even if it took everything she had. 

He was everything. 

So the threat of a trap was nothing to her now. She’d deal with whatever was up ahead, as long as it saved him. 

Half a day later she was in the parking lot of Benny’s Bunny Lounge staring at the reflection of soft pink neon lights on the hood of the Impala. Dusk was settling around her and as daylight faded, her courage grew. She tapped the back right pocket of her jeans, making sure the flask of holy water was in place and took a breath.

He was sitting center stage. His muddy boots were propped up on the table; the chair was tilted back on two legs. He wore a familiar flannel shirt open at the collar and he tipped a bottle back as if he hadn’t a care in the world. 

A young woman was dancing for him, rubbing her slim body up and down the pole, and spreading her thighs to give him a peek. Her caramel skin was covered in specks of glitter that sparkled in the flashing lights as each beat of the song made her hips swirl.

Stevie pulled up a chair and sat at the table beside him. 

“Nice tits.” 

Her voice was gentle enough to stay discreet but loud enough to reach him over the DJ’s latest offering. 

His eyes turned slowly and she felt the icy glare prickle her pale skin. 

Dean ran the tip of his tongue against the ridge of his top teeth. If he was surprised to see her, he didn’t show it. There was neither worry nor guilt on his face, only calm smugness. 

“On her or me?” 

Stevie gave him a short laugh as she leaned back and looked him over. His hair was longer than she’d last seen and stuck up as if he’d finally discovered hair products. His jaw was tight as always but shadowed by a little more stubble, and his arms looked thicker, his chest broader. 

She reigned in the memory of lustful nights and cleared her throat. 

“You have bulked up a bit,” she answered with a nod, “but I meant the dessert-named nursing student on stage.”

Dean kicked his legs down and righted his chair. “Actually, her name is Sparkles and she's pre-law.”

Stevie hummed. “Right.” 

Sparkles turned her back to the room and squatted against the pole. Her tiny red thong retreated higher up into her ass and Stevie wondered how hard it was to fish out at the end of her shift. 

Dean didn’t seem to have the same thought but was interested in the giggle of the woman’s plump backside. He turned his attention back to Sparkles and his beer, leaving Stevie to sit in silence carefully pondering her next words. 

She kept her tone casual but took a chance at moving things along. 

“We miss you back home, Dean.” She moved her amber eyes from him to the stage. “The Bunker ain't the same without you.” 

He laughed as he lifted the beer to his lips. “What, you don't like Sam's cooking?”

She smiled and leaned her arms on the table. The top was sticky and she tried not to think about why. “No, I don’t. But that's beside the point.” Disgusted, she sat up and wiped her palms down her thighs. Dean was unmoved, drinking his beer and staring at bouncing tits. Stevie sighed. “You gotta be missing home,” she insisted. “How ‘bout, let's get you back and we can fix this.”

“Who says I wanna fix this?” He set the bottle down and turned in his seat to face her. “I got all the sex, drugs, and rock and roll I want.”

She scoffed. “You always had that.”

“No.” 

In an instant, his tone shifted. He cocked his head to the right and blinked. Midnight flooded his eyes and Stevie gasped. She bit her tongue to hold back a wave of fear and stared into the inky darkness.  

“What I had,” he went on, leaning closer, trying to get a rise out of her, “was a whining, abusive, punk-ass little brother and a fucking poodle constantly yapping at my ankles.”

She swallowed hard. Her heart was pounding; lean muscles aching with the desire to bolt. 

Dean blinked again and the deep green she so loved returned to his eyes. 

Stevie sighed and clicked her tongue, drumming up her casual courage once more. “Really, Dean? A poodle? I picture myself as a more… hearty puppy.” A flick of her wrist pulled a wayward strand of dirty blonde hair out of her eyes.

“Fine. A schnauzer.”

“I don’t know why, but that seems worse…”

He laughed and sat back, returning to a more relaxed and unbothered state.

Still tingling with nervous flight energy, Stevie tapped her hand on the table and stood up. 

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” she announced. “Can I getcha somethin’?”

Dean’s eyebrows lifted as if he were amusedly shocked. “Could go for another,” he replied, shaking his empty bottle. 

She nodded and reached for the beer. He wouldn’t give up his grip and their fingers touched for a quick moment. She sucked in a deep breath and he grinned. 

“Hurry back…” 

She scanned the club as she walked to the bar. It was mostly empty except for a few staff members, a drunk old man asleep by the door, and two dudes in business suits pretending to be in a meeting so they could write off their lap dances. The front door was guarded by a gorilla of a man in a neon orange shirt and the back exit beyond the stage was watched by a slight, creeper of an older gentleman whose mustache likened him to every porn peddler in every movie she’d ever seen. They wouldn’t be much help if Dean decided to attack. A little, but not much. 

She ordered two domestic beers and paid in cash, leaving a hefty tip simply so the bartender would keep his eyes on her. An added layer of safety never hurt, even if the guy looked like he could get his ass kicked by an automatic door. 

She had to use what she had on hand. Dean taught her that, back when he was really Dean.

This Dean, whatever he truly was, ignored her return, though he surely felt the shift in atmosphere as she moved, and heard it when she cleared her throat. 

“One more for the gentleman in the played-out burgundy flannel.”

He cocked his head to look up at her and grinned. “Thought you loved this shirt,” he mused, accepting the fresh beer.

Stevie shrugged and retook her seat. “Eh. It’s not bad,” she replied, “just… old. You really should think about punching up your wardrobe a bit. There have been significant discoveries within the fashion industry since 1974.” 

He laughed and took a drink. “Yeah. What the fuck do you know about fashion?” Green eyes swept down her thin body, noting the wide-leg jeans ripped at the knees and around the hem, the faded concert tee that had seen better days, and a thrift store jacket she hadn’t washed in years. “Look like you fell out of a Nirvana video.” 

Stevie straightened up and smoothed a hand down her front. “At least I don’t look like an Army-Navy reject. You back on active duty, Radar?” 

Dean’s eyes were back on Sparkles, but his focus was on Stevie. He nearly choked on a sip of beer but pushed it back with a laugh. “Radar?” He sat up and set his elbows on the table. “Fuck you. I’m Hawkeye or I’m no one.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Hold on while I go distill you a martini…” 

Dean licked a smile from his lips and returned his attention to the vibrating thighs a few feet away from his nose. 

“You know where they have delicious martinis? Back home.” 

His palm slammed down on the tabletop and the wood splintered under the force. “Enough.” His growl was intense and a shudder ran down her spine. “I’m not coming home. Fuck off and leave me alone.” 

Stevie froze. Her blood ran cold and her heart raced. She stared at the broken table, at the cracks his fist had made, and thanked god it wasn’t her jaw. 

She tried one last time. 

“Dean… I miss you. Sam misses you. We… we can help. You know there’s a cure and we can get you back to yourself if you just-” 

He cut her off, spinning around in his seat to face her head-on. “If I just what? Let you rip away the one thing that’s made me happy in my entire fucking life?”

She shivered. “You don’t mean that. That’s the demon talking.” 

“Damn right, it is! But there ain’t no demon inside me, Sweetheart. It is me. All me. And I’m finally getting what I deserve. Some fucking R&R. I’m on leave, baby, and I ain’t never coming back.” 

A long exhale fell from her lips and with it any hope of saving him. With her silenced, Dean calmed and turned back to the show. Sparkles was finishing her dance and he wasn’t willing to miss another second. 

Years of friendship and love flashed behind her eyes and her heart ached too badly for him to survive much more. 

She gave up. 

Slowly, she stood and closed her eyes, placing a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t move to chase her away, didn’t shout or try to scare her off. He sat stone still and let her lips graze his cheek in a chaste goodbye.

“I love you.” 

Unaffected by her whisper, Dean leaned forward and crossed his arms over the table, green eyes focused on Sparkles and nothing else. 

It was done. 

Stevie walked back to her car, dodging shadows against the milky midnight sky. A blanket of gray clouds had been pulled across the world, backlit by a full moon that wouldn’t make an actual appearance that night. 

She could almost feel the cloud cover heavy on her shoulders. She’d come all this way to do one thing and she couldn’t do it. Maybe Sam could get through to him. Maybe Castiel could do some good. Clearly, she wasn’t the one who could break through Dean’s demonic haze. She wasn’t it for him. 

A few yards from her car, Stevie yanked her phone out and swiped across the screen. She scrolled past Dean’s name and landed on Sam’s. As her finger hovered, Dean called to her. 

“Stevie, wait!” 

The ache in his voice was pathetic and she turned to find him running towards her with a crease in his brow and pain in his eyes. 

“Please. I…” 

He stopped and stared. An arm’s length stood between them and Stevie held her breath. Hope surged around her heart. 

“What?” 

He took a breath and looked away, unable to meet her gaze. His shoulders fell and every bit of defense dropped away. She saw the old Dean for a moment. 

“I need help. I can’t do this much longer-” 

If there was more he wanted to say, she didn’t care. Stevie reached for him and he fell into her. Big arms wrapped around her tiny waist and she nuzzled into the crook of his neck. He was warm and solid, strong and alive. She closed her eyes as tears threatened to fall. 

“Dean… It’s OK. We can fix this.”

She felt his shoulders shake; heard his breathy exhale. 

“Please. Help me.” 

Pulling back, she smiled up at him softly. “Of course. Anything you need. Anything.” 

His grin was devilish and unexpected. 

Her eyes grew wide as his fist came into view. 

The phone fell, shattering as it hit the concrete ground. 

Stevie’s vision blurred and pain spread across her face like a hot web. It took too long to register what had happened and Dean struck again, cracking her cheekbone with his knuckles and forcing a gash to open below her eye. 

“Dean!” 

Her scream echoed through the silent night but he ignored it, opting for violence over communication. The Mark burned on his arm and Dean attacked again, ripping Stevie off of her feet by the shoulders and tossing her like a rag doll. 

The trunk of her car did little to cushion her spine and she crumbled to the ground, limp and seething with pain. 

As the gravel dug into the softness of her cheek, Stevie watched as Dean sauntered over to her. His boots moved with lazy precision, knowing she was going nowhere. When he stopped, the boots split apart and he crouched down, leaning in to taunt her. 

“You really would do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” 

His voice was low and mocking, his laugh like a scalpel sliding across her heart. 

“Always have. You’re like some goddamned love-sick teenager. Always following me around, always tending to my needs… my… desires.” 

She shivered as he dragged a finger down her broken face, lovingly admiring the purple and black mess bubbling beneath the skin. 

“Such a sweet creature.” 

Stevie fought the churn of bile in her gut and bit back a scream. It would do her little good, she knew. Any clapback would earn her a blow to the head, or worse. 

“Such a pathetic… plain… disappointing fuck.” 

Tears stung her eyes but the heartache was soon displaced by real pain as Dean wrapped his giant hand around her neck. Without warning, he tightened his grip and stood, lifting Stevie to her feet by the delicate threads of her throat. 

Amber eyes bulged. Thin lips spread wide in a gasping breath that never came. She clawed at his hand, digging her fingers between his palm and her windpipe, but it was little help. 

Dean laughed. 

She kicked. 

“Anything I want, huh?” he said again, turning on his heel to slam her back against the alley wall. “You’ll do anything for me, won’t you?” 

Desperate for release, Stevie mouthed a promise. She nodded, agreeing with her last bit of strength. 

Dean smirked and loosened his grip. 

Air rushed back into her lungs and Stevie coughed hard. “Please…” Her whisper was raspy and broken. “Anything you need.”

“Are you willing to bleed for me?” 

Her body froze; her thoughts clouded. 

“W-what?” 

Dean pressed himself up against her, and let his hot breath sweep over her lips. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” 

She shuddered. “I’m- I’m here to bring you home.” 

He dropped his hand from her throat and let it slide down her chest. “You’re here because Crowley called you. Told you I was bleeding innocents…” He pushed back a step and fisted her shirt, ripping the worn cotton in a swift motion. “Told you I’m making a mess of things to feed the Mark, to satisfy this hunger inside of me.” 

Stevie held herself still, praying that the wall would soften so she could push inside and get away from his touch. 

“It wants blood, Stevie… It needs blood.” 

The brand burned on his forearm and she felt the heat, felt the evil spark like lightning in the air. 

“I need blood…” Reaching behind him, Dean pulled the First Blade free from beneath his shirt and pressed the ancient bone to her neck. “I need your blood. You have no idea how many people I’ve killed. Demons, humans… It doesn’t matter. The Mark needs blood. So do it, Stevie, bleed for me and save them. ” 

Stevie held his gaze and her breath. “Don’t- don’t do this.” 

Dean growled deeply and laid his hand on her fragile cheek. The Blade pressed in on the left and his fingers on the right. She was trapped and hopeless. Defeated and broken. 

“Don’t…” 

His gaze softened for a split second and she thought she’d broken through. Maybe, somehow her love was enough to bring him back. 

She was wrong. 

Dean blinked and the darkness returned. He kissed her lips and her eyes closed. Quickly, he pulled his right hand down, slicing through her flesh like it was nothing. 

Stevie’s eyes went wide and her lips formed his name. 

The blood flowed and Dean sighed. Sated for another night.  

[brokenjere]

details (a seventeen going under story)(j.f)(ch.2)

details (a seventeen going under story)(j.f) (ch.2)

a/n: hey all! thanks for your patience with waiting for chapter two! hopefully you all enjoy it and let me know what you think or if you wanna be tagged in the next part!! I'll be working on updating my masterlist so hopefully that will be fully up to date shortly. love you all!!!

My birthday was in September. Only a few weeks after we got back from Cousins. Susannah was still as healthy as she had been all summer, so she threw the biggest party I’d ever seen her throw. It was bigger than either of the boys’ sixteenth birthday. Bigger than my sixteenth birthday. She rented an entire ballroom and hired a catering service and a DJ. It was everything that I hated but she was so happy planning it, it almost felt like her dying wish. 

Jeremiah sat at the end of my bed as I riffled through my clothes trying to pick out an outfit. He wasn’t much help because he said everything I picked out looked good The third outfit that I held up was a blue dress that hit just above my knees. When he said, “you’d look beautiful in that” again, I huffed it at him. He laughed as he caught the hanger. 

“What’s with the attitude?” He asked. 

I stood in front of him with my hands on my hips and tilted my head to the side, “you’re supposed to help me pick an outfit and you’re not helping me by telling me everything looks good.” Jeremiah smiled at me like he always did with crooked lips and soft eyes. 

“But you do look good in everything,” he said. “But maybe I’ll get a better idea if you put it on.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me and I rolled my eyes. 

“Not a chance.” He gawked at me and grabbed my wrist, pulling me in between his legs. I let him and my arms naturally fell over his shoulders. 

“Not even a small, minuscule one?” 

“You know what minuscule means?” I teased him. He faked a laugh and his hands squeezed the back of my thighs. He was perfect and I kissed him making him fall back onto my bed with me on top. 

I wore the blue dress to my party with a gold necklace that had the letter J hanging right right below my clavicle. Jeremiah draped it around my neck when he met me outside of the venue. His fingertips grazed my skin as he clasped it around my neck. His hands rested on my bare shoulders and he kissed my cheek and said, “forever, you’re mine.” I believed him and when we took photos together in the photo booth, he kissed my neck and I threw my head back laughing. He tucked both copies into his back pocket and when we got home later that night, he secured it into the frame of my mirror and we fell asleep tangled up together in the sheets. 

Now as I stare at the photo, instead of my heart swelling with fond memories, it fills with dread. I grab it and shove it in the bag I packed for Brown. I throw it over my shoulder and head downstairs where my parents are pretending that they weren’t waiting for me to come down. I hear the shuffle of my dad grabbing his crossword puzzle book from his lap in a hurry as I round the corner. “I’m going to go see Conrad at school, okay?” I tell them. 

My mom blinks at me. “Oh.” 

“Oh?” 

“I just didn’t know you and Conrad were still talking. Considering.” She shrugs loosely and gives

me a sad smile. Considering. 

“Conrad and I are still friends, Mom.”

“She didn’t mean anything by it, sweetheart. How long are you planning on staying?” My dad

asks. I turn my head to look at him and he looks so eager. So hopeful. 

“The weekend. I should be home by Monday.” He nods and my mom blows me a kiss. They yell at me to be careful as I leave out the front door. 

Brown’s campus is even more beautiful than the way Conrad describes it on the phone. It’s a little overwhelming, if I’m being honest. I stand in front of my car watching all the students pass by me with purpose and hesitate to ask one of them for directions. That’s when I see him. Walking toward me in a striped, collared shirt with a grin plastered on his face. “There she is,” he calls. He runs toward me, closing the gap between us. His arms wrap around my waist and he spins me around a few times which makes me laugh. When I land back on my feet he says, “I feel like it’s been far too long since I’ve seen you.” 

“It’s only been a few weeks,” I remind him. 

“Feels like forever.” Conrad looks down at me and smiles. His hands grip my biceps and he pulls me in for another hug. I feel my body relax against his chest, something that my body has refused to do for the last few weeks. I try to remember the last time I saw him. I remember what he was wearing, the way his hair looked, the look on his face as I ran out of the house in tears. “I’ll show you to my dorm and then we can go get lunch,” he says and releases me. 

The walk to his dorm is short but the campus is beautiful. I feel his eyes on me the entire time we’re walking. His arm brushes against mine and his eyes stare down at me willing for mine to meet them. I don’t. 

His door has a blank whiteboard on it and I almost think that’s more fitting than him writing his name on it. His roommate is gone so when the door closes, we’re alone and suddenly it all feels too quiet. “How did your last chemistry test go?” I ask as I stand awkwardly in the doorway. Conrad carried my bag the entire way and it’s now lying at the foot of his bed, his hand still lingering on the straps. 

He chuckles and says, “it went well, thanks for helping me study.” 

“Anytime.” He smiles at me and waves me toward him. I take the few short steps across the room and he hugs me one more time, this time as tight as his arms will allow. 

taglist: @things-that-make-sa-happy@marajillana@calpurnia2002@revemixer@harrysswhore @liltimmyst @chickunn-nuggett @rottenstyx @queenofthehellfireclub @lilbazzi @drikawinchester @gillybear17 @shamelessbluebirdsong

[amphiptere-art]

I just remembered all my older AUs. I haven't talked about them. Because well. They're not TSAMS. They're just standard security breach DCA. I've already gone on little tirades about these guys. And technically you're supposed to find out more about them in the RBB adventures of the cube. But since no one's interested in that, perhaps you guys would like if I just went on a tirade.

Down below the poll Is this shortest versions of the descriptions I have.

mechanical medic AU- story focused.

(Not in poll, But one of my lesser known AUs)

Ralph the Repair Dragon works as a moving parts and service. But is haunted by 3 fragmented souls of mechanics that died in the Plex. Sun n Moon struggle to get the medical mechanic animatronic to leave them alone.

Purrfect Thief- story focused.

you are a shape-shifting cat. You work with The gang Lord Eclipse but live as a house cat with the detectives Sun and Moon. You are an informant with the spiders web. A info company owned by DJ. Life has been simple and happy. But on the horizon a pack of dogs is ready to ruin that simple life.

Saving Waves- story focused

a sun n moon mer story. Were sun n moon were once in our lab/mer fighting facility. They are saved by a rehab facility and have to learn how to be normal Mer again. Also following the other side of the family. Who are trying to get pesky humans to stay out of their wild waters.

Warehouse AU- story / ask focused.

after the fire story were the dca, Freddy, DJ, foxy and Bonnie are moved to a big werehouse (owned by a y/n) is modified into a mini Plex (honestly more like a side road arcade that's bigger). And the dca has to relearn how to function with the band.

Rusty wheels- ask focused (lots of lore though)

a apocalypse au were a nanite Afton virus infects the world. It's cyberpunk with a rustic feel. Y/N has a big truck sized motorcycle thing and finds sun n moon. And drags them in their attempts of adventure and survival.

Cryptid eater- story / ask focus.

a Sun and Moon are Hunters story but you are a creature that eats vampires and werewolves and things like such. And the story takes place with you trying to convince them that you're on their side.

Warehouse Daycare- ask focused

a version of the warehouse AU where it's only sun n moon. The werehouse is smaller and they grow a closer relationship with y/n and a emotional support cat.

Stop you silly siren- ask focused

suns a tired Pirate. moons a silly siren. Eclipse is an angry sea captain. Popped in my head. want to see were it leads.

Creature dca- I made it for fun.

a random look for sun n moon. Has flip floped between being and basic non animatronic form to fey creatures that deal with changelings and guardian God entities.

Star foolery- a word for silly situations with no lore ties.

basic place for me to draw the dca in different situations. no major story but has lore. does occur during after and before in dca history

[cryptid-killjoy]

Frank and Delta's Ball

Feral was open.

Invite Only. Sure. But it unprecedented that Feral let people in that didn't live there. This was first since Feral became... well... Feral.

Delta Castle was decked out. She finally decided I have a ballroom. I'm going to fucking used it and have a god damn ball. Why the fuck not?

People were busy. Friends were vacationing. It was spooky season. Voodooists had feast after feast and celebrations no one could keep up with. Witches, alchemists, magic users of all kinds knew the veil was thin and were in high demand. Busy bees all from necromancers to fortune tellers, mediums, to paranormal investigators. Still, even the Laveaus knew how special the invite was. They were going to take the time to come to Delta's home. Her home. Not just feral. What a thought really. The very idea she was allowing people to bring plus ones was really something else. Though Valerie suspected if anything went wrong Delta would have the last laugh considering at that point whoever fucked with her at that point could never leave. So it was a pretty trusting giving situation all things considering.

Valerie was dressed like a daughter of October, her hair all flouncy She didn't have many chances to truly wear big extravagant dresses aside from the theater, but it really depended on the show. Most everyone would come in through Figaro's bus except Valerie and Thomas. They'd be the only one's who didn't. They'd get a personal escort from Tree. He'd show up for them and give them a ride in his branches up the mountainside to the castle, an Ent-Walk if you will, the VIP service. The best part would be Valerie noticing Tree had a bow tie on down around his lower trunk. He dressed for the occasion.

"Looking handsome, my friend. Looking good. I missed you."

Going through the doors of the castle everyone would be given a gift bag with party favors. There'd be a keychain inside that said Stay Feral. It was starting to be Delta's little catch phrase when she showed face on tv or podcasts. She didn't do a lot of PR as she wasn't much into that sort of thing, but it did happen. She and Frank did go out sometimes and they'd get approached.

The place would be packed too. Valerie hadn't expected it to be quite so populated considering what she heard of Feral, but Delta invited a large amount of fae from the other realm. They all came in from the hidden tree door in her childhood bedroom. The portal had always been there and it was getting more use now than ever before. She was slowly getting to know her homeland even when she wasn't there just by Diablo's shared mind with Maleficent. Then when she did make visits the puzzle pieces would mold together so much faster. She could learn at advanced speeds.

By the time anyone from the outside got there the fae were dancing and it would look like a full party. Where was the music coming from? That's what Delta wanted to know.

The DJ booth was empty. How long could it play on it's own? She should have known better than to hire a cat. Where the Hell was that cat now? At the buffet again. Of course. Right next Zero. "Cheshire. What are you doing?"

Chess pointed at Zero. "He wanted a bone. So I had to eat until I found the right one to throw to him. He's very patient. A very good dog."

There was a whole plate full of eaten meat with just the bones left piled up high at least a foot on it next to him. She glared at the plate.

"These are soup bones. Not throwing bones."

"Mhm. That's nonsense."

"I know. I can't believe there's not been one good throwing bone in all this buffet yet. You should really talk to the chef and get a refund."

"I. Am. The. Chef." Delta said through gritted teeth.

"I see. My. My. Well, now we know why Daddy went out of business, don't we?"

"Get back in the booth, CHESS!"

"Touchy. Touchy." Then she really just laughed as she disappeared into curls and swirled herself back into the DJ booth.

Delta looked at the plate and there was Zero staring at her. Delta rolled her eyes and threw them all right at him. Bones scattered all over the floor. At least Chess was good for rave effects all wrapped up in a furball. But, she really did need her to stay at the booth, at least until after the dance with her girls. She needed her to be ready in case she signaled because there wasn't a set time for it. She was going to wait till everyone was ready. Plus, no one in weird costumes or big dresses was dancing in that shit. They had to do a quick change up for it first. She needed the DJ to pay attention. After she could slack.

Funny enough Zero wasn't the "dog" there. Willem had brought Slippery with them so there was a real dog that was pretty happy about that pile of thrown ribs.

Then in the most random thought Delta tilted inspired by the bones. She walked up to the DJ booth and requested, "Bone Thrower by Revolution Smile." It was exactly ball room music, but this was her ball. What did people expect? Knowing the lyrics by heart as outsiders started to pour in it almost felt fitting. It wasn't an ode to the outsiders she invited. But, it sure was an ode to the outside world right now. Fuck everyone but the people she allowed here. Her weird ass quirky misfits and monsters, even the annoying ones like Chess.

The rocker in Valerie's heart walked in during this with Thomas smiling, like fuck yeah. The lights were all over the place. This place was kick ass. She didn't even know Chess was going to be here. Her smile widened when she noticed her at the DJ booth. "Look love. It's Chess."

Then there was Bas and Maddy. They lived right downstairs and would arrive right after their vacay just in time. So, they didn't have far to get here. All they had to do was come up their lighted steps.

Bastien would have taken some of the good stuff tonight and the lights were tripping him out. Everything was messing with his senses and he was lost in a world of his own and that included the bass and his wife's skin and perfume in the middle of the dance floor.

For those than can see he gargoyles they'd be all three be sitting on their rears in chairs with their arms over the ledges glasses on, or half cocked and crooked on their heads giving people nods and peace signs who walked by. Even his voices were high.

Then there's going to be Kuzco. The man has no shame. Ball? Were they supposed to get dressed up? Shrugs. All he knew was there was music and costumes allowed. This guy never wore anything normal. He shows up in ALF costume, but not just any Alf costume. It was a plastic horrid 80's kid's costume with the wretched masks that cut your face and no one could ever breathe in.

He managed to get a hold of the largest size possible, but it still didn't fit him even though he was a pretty small guy. Almost but no cigar. So he cut the legs and wore it like a poncho over his clothes. He'd say, "Here kitty kitty to Chess" way too many times all night since Alf liked to eat cats and not in the sexy way.

Willem and Nutmeg were in a circle of fae dressed as fauns comparing their fake horns to people with real horns having loads of fun with it. Everyone was hamming it up loving sharing the concept with each other. Imitation was flattery. They did feel flattered.

While all this was going on Figaro was getting a round of passengers to haul up. Koda and Elsa being in the round coming up. Koda invited his uncle to come along but he passed on the situation this time. Maybe next time if Delta let people in again. If this went well who knew? Dale and Scout were also in this batch and if GoGo was accepted an invitation to come with Scout she would too. The triplets and the Savanne kids were being babysat by Caim's people this time. Jules had a bunch of kids despite the exterior lack of responsibility. Tray assured them no he could handle it. If the halfling could handle a coven of vampires, and survive Hell as half human, he could handle a few pups and a couple zombies. They were going to be alright with Unkie Jules and Tray. Scout was a little disappointed her buddy Tray wouldn't be with her this round, but he insisted she go since Feral was going to be full of all her old friends. She needed this.

Babyface, Black Arts, Ellie, and Nebby on this ride in too. The bus was getting pretty stoked to go on up to the castle. Dale couldn't sit down with his Barbie Box on so he put it in the seat next to him. So, he'd be sitting there with his hair nice and gelled and his crop top on when he noticed Ellie and Babyface loading the bus and talking to whoever they were with. He assumed that was the fam he kept talking about but his brain didn't go that far yet too excited with, "ELLIE!" He stood up and went running down the aisle.

First hug.

Second smile.

"God damn. Fuck you for staying away so long. Fuck you both."

Scout waved from behind him a seat over.

"He means that in the most loving way possible."

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

Aaaand at last the long awaited chapter 7 that I've been hoarding from yall for a lil while! There's just a little buildup here, so not terribly essential, but I think it was important to write anyway. This sets up the next chapter, so be aware of that...

And as always, I must invite my esteemed guests @itsberrydreemurstuff, @bibooby, @laegume and @andyssilly to the lil slumber party. (If anyone else wants to be tagged just lemme know and I'll put ya in the next one!)

Anyways, on with the show!

Word Count: 3075

The tension from this morning melts away pretty quickly once the kids show up. You’re dragged into a tea party, sipping air from a plastic cup with your knees tucked into your chest to fit you while you gossip to the children about Mr. Teddy Bear’s newest escapade in an overly-posh accent.

That feeling from earlier creeps up on you again, the phantom constrictions in your chest tightening, and you hardly have time to mask your sharp inhale and wince when a hard shock runs up your spine, warning you of what’s to come. The kids seem worried for a moment, but you cover up your reaction with a dramatic tale, urging them to ‘banish’ you to your station to save them from the wretched demon possessing your immune system. It’s not really that type of illness, not the sort they can catch, but you’ve always had a bit of a flair for the dramatic, and your performance does the trick.

You regret not bringing your medicine today, but Sun had warned you not to, and he was effectively the boss. It wasn’t so bad anyway- just a bit of soreness, nothing terribly noteworthy. Worst case scenario, you could take a pill from the Daycare’s little pharmacy cabinet and make it through the day. And maybe call your brother as a last resort, but you refused to bother him unless it was an emergency. For now, you’ll just wait it out. 

Snacktime is announced, and you wheel out the food, standing to the side as your stomach decides to make its hunger known. Did you have breakfast before you left? You don’t know. You didn’t think to pack a lunch (you never do) and your clock-out time wasn’t soon enough for you to placate your hunger. You stare at the contents on the table and remind yourself that it’s not for you, it’s for the kids, and Sun is right there. You return to your work station and attempt to read your book, but the words can’t seem to stay in your head.

By the time the lights go out, the pounding has sharpened, and you’re hardly able to move your legs without some ache in your bones. It’d probably be best if you left the daycare to check yourself over, which you neglect to tell Moon before he even gets his chance to do his little routine. His faceplate tilts to the side with a little click, and you’re out the door before he thinks to say anything. 

—---------------------------------

Moon blinked. That’s…new. They never take a break during naptime. 

The only reply he got from his brother was a subdued hum of agreement. 

—------------------------------

Your slightly unbalanced speed-walking comes to a halt a good 20 paces from the Daycare as you realize you have no idea where you’re going. You’ve never really been through the Pizzaplex aside from heading to your post or to Parts & Service, so you only knew two or three routes in this maze. Well, and the DJ’s arcade, but you only know the directions there from the entrance, not the Daycare. 

Maybe you could find your way from Parts & Service? Last time you’d been, the STAFF bots led the way…

Scratch that. You knew one route.

Lovely. You can’t say that you’re particularly thrilled to do more walking in your state, but you suppose there’s no time like the present to get further adjusted to your workplace. There was a restaurant around here somewhere, right? Even if their only dish was pizza that tasted like cardboard topped with soggy oatmeal, food was food, and it was better than nothing. If you could only figure out how to get there.

The irony of the fact that you have to go find the Map bot and ask it for directions is not lost on you. 

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Luckily, you don’t have to look far. It just so happens that one is conveniently stationed around a corner at some random attraction. You approach it awkwardly and tap it on the shoulder, offering a small, unsure smile. “Hey, I was wondering if you, uh…if you could spare me a map?”

You swear the stoic face of the bot in front of you practically lights up, and you can feel the beaming smile it gives you in spite of its static expression as it shoves a map into your hand with the vigorous and insistent mantra of “Take a map! Please take a map!”

You struggle to suppress the little laugh that bubbles out of you upon seeing its excitement, and you comply with its wishes, shooting it a much more relaxed smile and thanking it before it wheels away to the next set of customers. 

You examine the map eagerly thrust upon you. Apparently there are several dining areas, one for every floor. You don’t have much time to explore, though, so you choose the closest one to you: the FazPad.

After twenty minutes of running around in search of the elusive location, you’re finally able to find and order something from the somewhat overpriced menu with the help of the employee discount. Ordering a Moondrop curry seems fitting considering your position, though you pray Moon doesn’t somehow find out about it. You poke at the bright blue dish that you’re pretty sure is supposed to be edible. It isn’t half as bad as you expected, surprisingly. Shame you couldn’t say the same for its namesake.

Speaking of the lunar menace, you have maybe half an hour before naptime is over, and you refuse to be late. You’d seen them when you were tardy, and it was not pretty. Your mini check up would go pretty quickly, as you were confident it wasn’t anything problematic. 

Another ten minutes is spent trying to find a bathroom (you do not want to go back to use the one in the Daycare while Moon’s still out unless absolutely necessary). You lock yourself in a small stall and lean against the door to look yourself over, fingers gently pressing into your legs and lower back with hesitance. You cringe slightly, lips thinning into a line. You hate when this happens, but it should pass eventually. With any luck, you’d be able to go to work and avoid the worst of it. You’d just have to be a little more mindful of your limits.

This probably wouldn’t end up like last time.

Satisfied with your conclusion, you make your way back to the Daycare. Naptime was still in session and you were anticipating a trick upon your return.

—----------------------

You wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing as you gasp for air, shooting up from the mattress and breathing heavily, your eyes dart around your room, relaxing when you spot the familiar dark silhouettes of your belongings. There’s just enough moonlight from the window for you to make out details. Your hand flies to your chest almost instinctively, as if to verify that your heart’s still pumping, you’re still alive, still here. 

You’re awake now.

Once your initial panic dies down, you become acutely aware of three things. 

The first is that it is very hot, almost unbearably so. Sweat clings to your form as perspiration runs down your forehead. You can hear the AC vents pushing out air, but it doesn’t help cool the burning in your core that spreads through you.

The second thing you notice is that the shirt your hand is clutching tightly is your work uniform. You must’ve blacked out after coming home from work. As usual, you don’t remember that.

The third thing is the feeling of bile rising in your throat, and it swiftly surpasses the first two observations. You stagger to the kitchen sink on numb legs and lean heavily against the kitchen counter, retching violently. You’re still shaking by the time you can manage to lift your head out, forcing yourself to hack and spit the rest out to flush out the remaining fluids choking your throat. You hazard a glance at the sink before washing away the blue chunks. Figures. You’re never having Fazbear’s trademarked trash again.

You navigate back to your room to brush your teeth and rid the foul taste of vomit from your mouth, cranking up the AC on the way to bed. You toss the thin cover aside and adorn your pajamas, waiting for sleep to claim you and take you from this awful feeling. Something nags you in the back of your mind, warning you that it’s only about to get worse before you’re dragged under, in and out of consciousness as the night progresses.

Your alarm blares some time later and you fumble to turn it off. Little shit doesn’t know you’ve been up for the past hour. You bite back a groan. While your stomach had thankfully settled overnight, everything else has hit you full force. 

It’s official. You’re Sick.

Or at least, that’s what the shit feeling leads you to believe.

You make a weak attempt to sit up…only to immediately crash back down again. An involuntary cry of alarm rips from you at that sharp pain that lances through your spine. It’s so much worse than yesterday. You shake your head and force back tears. It usually doesn’t get this bad. It usually just stops at your lower back. 

Still, you have a job to do, and you’re not letting a little thing like this stop you.

Your things are shoved into your bag, work clothes thrown on. You hesitate but decide to bring the pills anyway. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep talking, but Sun yelling at you is nothing compared to this.

You’re out of the apartment before you even remember you forgot to pack a lunch yet again. 

—---------------------------

The attendants can't help but notice that something seems…off…about you.

On the surface level, nothing has changed. You still walk into the room and greet them, still write your reports and go along with Sun’s demands and Moon’s antics. But there are little things that tip them off, like the small limp in your step or the naps you’ve begun taking more often when the lights go out. 

Moon notices your bag has lost some weight. The usual thought and care packed into it is absent. Extra clothes and books are left behind, with only your phone and laptop inside. You’d also taken to bringing those pills. He’d given up on lecturing you about it when all he got was an affirmative that was immediately broken the next day. The lunar AI assured him they were harmless, but it was still off-putting.

Your emails, they noticed, had also become more succinct and to the point. Not that it was a bad thing: you tended to ramble in great detail, even in the simple notes. Lately, though, they found that it was missing something. 

Take your recent Maintenance update, for example. You’d apparently noticed the issues with their joints and filed a request for Parts & Service. You always notified them a day or two in advance prior to an appointment. This time, however, they did not receive your normally well-written email. It remained polite, of course, but it was clipped, curt.

Unexpected.

And it wasn’t just your work suffering, either. Your usual excitement when playing with the children was absent. You were tenser, got tired more easily, frequently taking breaks and hanging back to catch your breath.

No, the change wasn’t too great, but it was there, and it was starting to get a bit out of hand. You’d pretty much been glued to your desk for the last two days. And while you weren’t really required to do much else besides your updates, it still felt…wrong.

It didn’t matter, though, they reasoned. If you weren’t feeling good, you’d take a couple days off and they’d be done with it. They’d have enough leverage in addition to your recent slacking to get rid of you.

They…did still want to get rid of you, Sun reminded himself. You had flaws, flaws that could not exist in their perfect system, flaws that had to be eradicated to maintain order.

It was better for everyone that way.

______________________________________

You rub your eyes, slowly scanning your ID at the clock-in station and fighting back the dark edges in the corner of your vision. You hadn’t been sleeping well as of late, and it was starting to take a toll on you. You didn’t dare to call in sick, however, remembering all too well your coworkers’ reactions when you’d returned from you unexpected time off.

Granted, that was a special case, but they didn’t know that.

It’s not like you knew what had been going on at the time, anyway.

You stroll into the Daycare as usual, bag slung on your shoulder and a slightly less enthusiastic greeting on your lips. Your routine is interrupted when without warning, a dizziness crashes into you and leaves you with spots in your vision. They do not clear this time when you try to force them away. The room spins, and your knees buckle under you, causing you to lurch forward. You brace yourself against the wall and hiss at the sudden burning ache of your muscles. 

As quickly as it came, the feeling withdraws, pulling back fast enough that the dizziness multiplies instead of lessening. Once the room soon stills, you pull yourself back to your feet, sitting down at your desk and getting to work like nothing happened.

Just as well that no one saw.

You’re in the midst of writing another report when your phone goes off. You take a glance around to make sure that Sun isn’t watching and open them. There are three messages waiting for you. One from your brother asking how you’ve been, one mysterious letter from Fazbear, and one from…

Ah.

You skim the last one and dismiss it. The first two are received with greater excitement, something you haven’t felt in a little while. You respond to your brother with your trademarked ‘I’m doing just great let’s talk about something else now’ and read Management’s reply.

Hello, Fazbear Employee, 

We have received your request for funding for greater literary material. After careful consideration, we have decided to approve your proposal. You are required to send a list of materials you wish to purchase. Please remember that any liabilities and/or repercussions faced as a result of this project will result in immediate termination of your contract.

Thank you and have a Faz-errific day!'

Your exhaustion and illness is momentarily forgotten as you squeal and bounce in your seat excitedly. Oh, you already had a dozen titles running through your head that you were certain the kids would love. You’d already compiled a short list a few pages long in your notebook, you’d have to copy it and send it over as soon as possible-

Aaaaand there was that ever so familiar voice piping up in front of you and instantly dashing all your hopes and dreams. “Oh? What’s got you oh-so chipper this morning?”

You swallow down that instinctual feeling of being doused in ice water and manage to maintain your smile. “Management approved my request for buying more books!”

“I’d been under the impression you’d been doing so already..” he remarked dryly.

You ignore his comment, showing him the email and forgetting who you’re ranting to your boss in your excitement about this new opportunity. He takes the device and reads the email himself before responding in an odd voice. “Management didn’t send us an update about this…”

“I just found out myself,” you shrug, not noticing the subtle glare shot at you. “I already had a few titles in mind, but I’d be more than happy to get your opinions on them. The kids are gonna be so excited to get some new stories for naptime, and I’m sure we could-“

“There’s nothing wrong with what we have now for naptime,” he cuts you off, a second, darker undertone layering his voice briefly. His eyes flash red for a split second. 

You blink and hastily amend yourself. “Right, sorry, I just meant that it’ll be nice to have some more variety, that’s all. We could probably find some stuff for you guys, too, if you wanted. I’m sure Moon’s gotten tired of children’s books by now.”

The attendant says nothing for a while, remaining eerily still, and you turn around to see if he’s still there. There have  been some times where they’ve slipped away without you noticing. How they did so was unknown to you considering the many bells hanging from their frame. “Sun?”

The lights cut off abruptly, and the raspier voice returns, drawling sardonically with a hint of mockery. “Awww, you would do that for meee?” He clasps his hands together and flutters his ‘eyelids’ in a show of sarcasm.

“Hi Moon,” you greet him without missing a beat, shutting your laptop and rummaging through your bag for that notebook of yours. You normally brought it, but maybe you’d forgotten it again. You seemed to be doing that a lot lately…

A blue arm shoots out and grabs yours, promoting you to look up at your assailant’s glowering gaze.

“We don’t need your handouts, certainly not from the likes of you,” he hisses, squeezing your wrist tighter for emphasis. 

You manage a nod, swallowing the lump in your throat and lightly tugging at your arm to signal your desire for release. “R-right, of course, sorry, I just thought-“

“We aren’t interested in the thoughts of a mere worker.” His grip does not yield, the silicone masked metal hand like a shackle. You briefly recall Monty’s harsh bruises (time) before. You don’t want another limb to stop functioning right now. That would really suck.

He leans in to speak, privately relishing in the way you try to lean back with an inkling of fear. He grins sharply. “Y-“

A knock at the door startles the two door of you, earning a growl from Moon and a shuddery exhale of relief from you.

He sends you one last loathsome look before the lights flicker on and Sun attends to the new arrival. You release another sigh, rubbing your now sore wrist. Another ache added to the list.

And with that, a new day has officially begun.

As optimistic as you’d like to be, you’re pretty sure you know exactly where it’s going from here.

———————

Aaaaaaaand that’s a wrap! Sorry for the long wait everyone, hope it was worthwhile and I’ll see you all in the next one!

[nora-berkeley]

LONDON AWARDS 2024 AFTER PARTY:

Location: The Berkeley Estate, Guildford. (ignore the Christmas theme, but just so you can get an idea of the place they're spending the night.) Hosts: Nora Berkeley. Date: Friday 22nd March, 2024. (roleplaying will start now.) Dress Code: Formal. Dress to impress. Short dresses are now fine.

EVENT SUMMARY:

And now it's time for the after party. If you weren't smart enough to send your attire ahead of time, better make sure you grab it before the fleet of cars leaves without you. You've got forty five minutes before anybody who's anybody is whisked away from Central London, and off to the expansive Berkeley Estate nestled in the ever idyllic Guildford. Don't worry, nobody needs to worry about disturbing the neighbours. The 120+ rooms means that everybody is more than welcome to stay the night. Some might have to share rooms, or shack up on an antique sofa worth more than their existence, but that's part of the fun...no? There will be plenty of food on offer upon arrival to line stomachs before the real party begins, and breakfast will be provided to all those who survive the night. There will be several bars scattered across the property, including the conservatory and pool room. Said pool will be open and welcoming visitors, so if you feel like taking a dip? Get wild... (Not that any of you need a excuse to take your clothes off, obviously.) Each of the formal dining rooms will be transformed into mini-night clubs, all hosting its own genre specific DJ, as well as a handful of tables for bottle service. Just because one room doesn't suit you, doesn't mean another won't. Find your vibe. If you prefer to take things at a slower pace, the impressive wine cellar will offer some respite; a string quartet, a huge selection of cigars to choose from, and a calmer atmosphere in which to mull over the night's events. The conservatory will also be spared the blaring music, and instead play host to a pop-up bar and casino courtesy of Damon Rutherford and The Empire Hotel.

ATTENDANCE & IMPORTANT NOTES:

Everyone can attend this event, regardless of their affiliation or whether they attended the ceremony itself. That said, if you feel you character wouldn’t participate, then there’s no pressure to. Take note that there will canonically be a lot of important members of London’s social scene present, so the party will be pretty jam-packed with the city’s self-proclaimed finest and most famous. This will be considered a monumental social event this year, so people will be looking to go wild and make the most of it. TWI will be paying attention. It is not a private event.

PERKS FOR THE AWARD WINNERS:

For all of those who walked away from the ceremony with an award in their hands, your fortunes do not end with a golden statue. Thank God because that ain’t real gold fam. You will be entitled to some complementary treats as an added bonus, courtesy of Damon Rutherford. These cannot be exchanged, nor gifted to non-winners. Winners are permitted to bring a guest when they redeem their weekend at The Empire.

All winners will enjoy free drinks for the entirety of the evening. This will include bottle service so the peasants can feel special. They will also be guaranteed a private bedroom at the estate for themselves and a guest.

All winners will be offered access to a hotel suite at The Empire Hotel in Westminster for a future weekend of their choosing. Winners for Best Couple and Should-Be couple will get presidential suites. Enjoy them.

Winner of both Man of the Year and Woman of the Year will win an all expenses paid trip, transfers included, to Porto Velho. A private jet will take them and a guest of their choosing whenever they wish to redeem the prize.

Winner of Best Dressed Man and Best Dressed Woman (awards that will be announced at the after party, rather than the ceremony itself) will both win £15k of credit to spend at Harrods in Knightsbridge.

Winners of the Best Dates award (also announced at the after party) will win an all inclusive spa day at the hotel, at a time of their choosing.

[casinoknightusa]

Want Something Unique for Your Wedding Party? Hire a Skilled DJ Service Pack

Do you want to do something unique in your wedding? Instead of choosing random things, think of hiring a professional DJ service pack. Including a DJ service in your wedding day event will be the best. By fusing music and genres, DJs can set the right mood at the party while keeping your guests entertained. Well, we at Casino Knight can be the one you’re looking for. Can’t find the info you were looking for? Give a visit to our site: https://casino-knight.com/.

[annahesmondhalgh]

SIMS 4 ALPHABET CHALLENGE

Hello! This is the first challenge I have ever made, and yeah, it’s a lot. Basically it is every single trait, along with every single skill and aspiration and world etc etc etc, turned into a challenge based on the letter it starts with.I included every expansion pack, game pack and so forth, but of course you can just limit it to what packs you own yourself, even I don’t have them all so I’ve been playing it slightly different to how it is presented here.

Basically, the first two letters, A and B, are partners and then they have four kids, any of those four kids can be picked as the leader of the next generation, therefore having four kids of their own. So on and so forth until the last child who is simply an amalgamation of all the last letters. 

For this challenge, one must complete every aspiration (child, teen and adult) associated with their letter. They must complete all the aspirations, all the skills, all the careers, and buy the corresponding reward traits. As well as this, if they have a character value trait then they must have that by the time they are an adult. Also, all of the worlds corresponding with their letters must be lived in for at least some period of time throughout their life.

I know this must look super overwhelming, especially for some letters like M or S, but don’t be too harsh on yourself and just have heaps of fun! Tag me if you end up doing this, I would love love love to see xxoxoxoxoxoox

First Gen Host: A

Teen Aspiration: Admired Icon

Child Aspiration: Artistic Prodigy

Aspirations to Complete: Academic, Archaeology Scholar, Angling Ace

Traits: Active, Art Lover, Adventurous

Toddler Trait: Angelic

Character Value Trait: Argumentative

Satisfaction Reward Traits: Always Welcome, Antiseptic

Skills to Master: Acting, Archaeology

Careers to Master: Astronaut, Athlete, Actor

First Gen Partner: B

World: Britechester/Brindleton Bay

Aspirations to Complete: Bodybuilder, Bestselling Author, Big Happy Family, Beach Life

Traits: Bookworm, Bro, Any

Skills to Master: Baking, Bowling

Character Value Trait: Bad Manners

Satisfaction Reward Traits: Brave, Beguiling

Careers to Master: Business

Part Time Jobs: Babysitter, Barista

Second Gen Child 1: C

World: Copperdale

Child Aspiration: Creative Genius

Aspirations to Complete: Chief of Mischief, Computer Whiz, City Native, Country Caretaker, Cure Seeker

Traits: Cheerful, Creative, Cat Lover

Infant Trait: Cautious/Calm

Toddler Trait: Charmer/Clingy

Character Value Trait: Compassionate

Satisfaction Reward Traits: Cold Acclimation, Creative Visionary, Carefree, Connections, 

Skills to Master: Charisma, Comedy, Cooking, Cross stitch 

Careers to Master: Criminal, Culinary, Critic, Conservationist, Civil Designer

Second Gen Child 2: D

World: Del Sol Valley

Teen Aspiration: Drama Llama

Aspirations to Complete: Any

Traits: Dance Machine, Dog Lover, Any

Skills to Master: Dancing, DJ Mixing

Careers to Master: Detective, Doctor

Part Time Job: Diver

Extra: Drama Club as a Child

Second Gen Child 3: E

World: Evergreen Harbour

Aspirations to Complete: Extreme Sports Enthusiast, Eco Innovator, Enforcer of Order, Emissary of the Collective

Traits: Erratic, Evil, Any

Character Value Trait: Emotional Control

Skills to Master: None

Satisfaction Reward Trait: Entrepreneurial

Careers to Master: Entertainer, Education, Engineer

Extra: E-Sports Competitor in University

Second Gen Child 4: F

World: Forgotten Hollow

Aspirations to Complete: Friend of the Animals, Fabulously Wealthy, Freelance Botanist, Friend of the World, Fabulously Filthy

Traits: Foodie, Freegan, Family Oriented

Toddler Trait: Fussy

Satisfaction Reward Traits: Free Services, Frugal, Fertile, Forever Fresh, Forever Full, 

Skills to Master: Fabrication, Fishing, Fitness, Flower Arranging

Career: Freelancer

Part Time Job: Fast Food Employee, Fisherman

Generation 3 Child 1: G

World: Granite Falls/Glimmerbrook

Teen Aspiration: Goal Oriented

Aspirations to Complete: Good Vampire, Galactic Privateer

Traits: Genius, Gloomy, Goofball

Character Value Trait: Good Manners

Satisfaction Reward Traits: Great Storyteller, Gym Rat, Great Kisser

Skills to Master: Gardening, Guitar, Gourmet Cooking

Careers: Gardener

Generation 3 Child 2: H

World: Henford On Bagley

Aspirations to Complete: Hope vs Order 

Traits: High Maintenance, Hot-Headed, Hates Children

Satisfaction Reward Traits: Heat Acclimation, Heatproof, Hardly Hungry

Skills to Master: Handiness, Herbalism

Career: None

Generation 3 Child 3: I

Aspirations to Complete: Inner Peace 

Traits: Insider, Any, Any

Infant Trait: Intense

Toddler Trait: Independant/Inquisitive

Character Value Trait: Irresponsible, Insensitive

Satisfaction Reward Trait: Ice Proof, Incredibly Friendly, Independent, Inspired Explorer

Skills to Master: None

Career: Interior Designer 

Generation 3 Child 4: J

Aspirations: Joke Star, Jungle Explorer

Traits: Jealous, Any, Any

Skills: Juice Fizzing 

Career: None

Generation 4 Child 1: K

Aspirations: Any

Traits: Kleptomaniac, Any, Any

Skills: Knitting 

Career: None

Generation 4 Child 2: L 

Teen Aspiration: Live Fast

Aspirations: Leader of the Pack, Lord/Lady of the Knits, Lone Wolf

Traits: Lazy, Loves Outdoors, Lactose Intolerant

Skills: Logic

Career: Law

Part Time Job: Lifeguard

Generation 4 Child 3: M

World: Magnolia Promenade/Moonwood Mill/Mt. Komorebi

Child Aspiration: Mind and Body

Aspirations: Musical Genius, Master Actor/Actress, Master Mixologist, Mansion Baron, Mt Komorebi Sightseer, Master Maker, Master Chef, Master Vampire

Traits: Maker, Music Lover, Materialistic

Character Value Trait: Mediator

Satisfaction Reward Traits: Mentor, Morning Sim, Marketable

Skills: Media Production, Medium, Mischief, Mixology

Career: Military

Part Time Jobs: Manual Labourer

Generation 4 Child 4: N

World: Newcrest

Aspirations: Nerd Brain, Neighbourhood Confidante 

Traits: Neat, Noncommittal, Any

Satisfaction Reward Traits: Never Weary, Needs No One, Night Owl

Skills: None

Career: None

Generation 5 Child 1: O

World: Oasis Springs

Aspirations: Outdoor Enthusiast

Traits: Outgoing, Overachiever, Any

Satisfaction Reward Trait: Observant

Skills: None

Career: None

Generation 5 Child 2: P

Child Aspiration: Playtime Captain

Aspirations: Painter Extraordinaire, Public Enemy, Perfectly Pristine, Purveyor of Potions, Paragon of Hope

Traits: Perfectionist, Paranoid, Proper

Satisfaction Reward Traits: Professional Slacker, Paranormal Investigator

Skills: Painting, Parenting, Pet Training, Photography, Piano, Pipe Organ, Programming

Career: Painter, Politician

Miss Q

Generation 5 Child 3: R

Child Aspiration: Rambunctious Scamp

Aspiration: Renaissance Sim

Traits: Romantic, Recycle Disciple, Any

Character Value Trait: Responsible

Skills: Research and Debate, Robotics, Rocket Science, Rock Climbing 

Career: None

Part Time Job: Retail Employee

Generation 5 Child 4: S

World: Strangerville/Selvadorada/San Myshuno/San Sequoia/Sulani

Child Aspirations: Social Butterfly, Slumber Party Animal

Aspiration: Soulmate, Serial Romantic, Successful Lineage, Super Parent, Spellcraft and Sorcery, Strangerville Mystery, Self Care Specialist 

Traits: Self-Assured, Slob, Squeamish 

Infant Trait: Sensitive/Sunny

Toddler Trait: Silly

Satisfaction Reward Traits: Super Green Thumb, Seldom Sleepy, Savant, Steel Bladder, Shameless, Stoves and Grills Master, Storm Chaser, Speed Reader, Speed Cleaner

Skills: Selvadoradian Culture, Singing, Skiing, Snowboarding 

Careers: Scientist, Secret Agent, Social Media, Style Influencer, Salaryperson

Part Time Job: Scouting Career Scout, Simfluencer

Extra: Soccer Team Player in University

Generation 6 Child One and Only: Left Over Letters

World: Tartosa/Willow Creek/Windenburg

Child Aspiration: Whiz Kid

Aspirations: The Curator, World Famous Celebrity, Villainous Valentine, Vampire Family, Zen Guru, Werewolf Initiate, Wildfang Renegade

Traits: Unflirty, Vegetarian, Any

Infant Trait: Wiggly

Toddler Trait: Wild

Character Value Trait: Uncontrolled Emotions

Satisfaction Reward Trait: Waterproof

Skills: Vampiric Law, Veterinarian, Video Gaming, Violin, Wellness, Writing

Careers: Tech Guru, Writer

Part Time Job: Video Game Streamer

[umichenginabroad]

Week 2: Living it up in Amsterdam!

Time feels like it’s going by so quickly, as it’s already the end of the second week in Berlin. This week introduced the technical lab course, which for me is my robotic programming lab course. I haven’t had a great deal of robotic programming, and as everyone was introducing themselves during the first class, it seemed that the consensus was that a lot of people were pretty new. So it could be said that I was more than a little shocked to be doing partial derivatives and working with differential equations on the first day. Anyways, it actually wasn’t too bad as it made everyone work collectively and made time go by much faster as we were so laser-focused on finishing our tasks.

On Tuesday, we went on a fun brewery tour of the brewery on the VLB campus. You see, all the beer that was being produced was for research and scientific purposes. The brewery was experimenting with different techniques and recipes for different kinds of beer. We got to see the station where the barley is first broken down into malt, then where the yeast is added, and finally where the beer is dispensed. As an added bonus, we even got to try some!

Prior to the weekend, around Monday or so, 7 of my friends and I planned a weekend trip over to Amsterdam. We were to leave right after class on Friday and get there at around 1:00 am on Saturday and return back to Berlin at around 8:30 on Sunday night. I packed my stuff at around 5:45 am Friday morning because I’m just an all-round excellent procrastinator. 

The entire Amsterdam journey was an absolutely crazy one, but quite a memorable one. For starters, we missed one of our trains and had to race the train via taxi. One of our trains was heavily delayed, which caused us to miss our ensuing transfer train. As I was the only person who somewhat knew how to speak German, I was forced to put my minuscule vocabulary to use when I had to communicate to the information help desk and taxi driver that our train had been delayed and now needed a taxi service. We eventually were able to get a taxi service to the next stop, and thanks to the driver, just barely made it before the train, and the trip continued to proceed as normal. I thought that it was crazy that we had just happened to have one German speaker with us on this trip and for it to be actually a pivotal moment in the trip.  

As soon as we arrived, we headed to the Airbnb and just chilled out until everyone went to bed. The following morning we decided to go sightseeing and check out any potential museums or other tourist attractions that we wanted to hit up. We eventually settled on splitting up between sightseeing and visiting an electronic music museum.

I went with the group to the museum and as we were walking there, we were met with absolute torrential downpour. Since we had to make our time slot, we trudged through the rain to the museum, arriving on-time looking like we had swam through the waterways to get there. In the electronic music museum, we got to learn about the history of House music and see priceless artifacts like Marshmello’s helmet and Avicii’s keyboard. To top it all off, we even got to experience their own little DJ-mashup of some of the most iconic songs. 

That night, we met up with some other University of Michigan students who were traveling through Europe, and we decided that since it was one of their birthdays, to go out that night in celebration, seeing as he was turning 21. We walked around Amsterdam at night, appreciating the beautiful views of the city at night and basking in the nighttime culture of the city. Even though it was late at night, there were still streets packed with people having a good night out in pubs and bars. We walked around for about an hour, then attended a music festival. Now, this is where the night really starts to get interesting. 

When we arrived, we were really excited and were in high spirits. Then someone from our group got kicked out. We didn’t really know why and after clearing up the confusion, they were let back in. We then spent the next couple hours dancing and chilling around, eventually leaving at around 3:00 am. As we were all pretty hungry at the time, we decided to hit up this one street full of fast food shops until around 4:00 am. However, as we were walking there, another person lost their wallet. We spent about 30-45 minutes looking for that wallet until somehow, by the grace of God, we found it next to a curb untouched. It was a pure stroke of luck that we had found it and even more lucky that it was left untouched. Seeing as how the universe was so unfairly lucky to us, it decided that it was time to reverse the tables. As we were walking to get food, I saw that we were running behind and needed to get moving if we were to get there before everything closed. I started sprinting and turned around to tell my friends behind me that we need to get going. As I turn back around however, I see a bike coming straight for me and BAM, it slams right into me. Luckily, no one was seriously hurt and I was able to walk away from it with minor bruises and swelling. However, this experience was extremely scary and I am extremely grateful that things did not end differently. At last, we were able to get food right around 4:00 am and eventually headed back and called it a night. 

Sunday was our final day in Amsterdam and seeing as how our train back to Berlin left at 2:15, we could only do some light shopping in some of the shopping streets before we ended up heading over to the train station and heading back to Berlin. Overall, it was an extremely fun trip and well worth it. Even though we had some scary moments, we cherished the short time that we spent and left extremely satisfied with the experience.

This will no doubt go down as one of the most fun trips that I’ve had in recent years and definitely the most crazy and unpredictable trip ever.

That’s all for this week, see you guys next week!

Dervin Tian

Data Science

Engineering Laboratory Experience at TUB in Berlin, Germany

[solanger]

tuesday, 18th june - 08:46

people! i have been gone for too long. let me summarise.

i am now back home, wales to england, aberystwyth to wokingham. it was a very hectic couple of days. i had to pack EVERYTHING and i definitely underestimated how much stuff i had. regardless, everything has now gone to a storage service, while i had to carry 6/7 bags back home. on a 6 and ¾ hour journey. by train. let's just say it wasn't easy (ha).

i left and arrived on friday last week, in time to surprise my dad before fathers' day! it was a great weekend. we first went to the cinemas on saturday to watch 'bad boys: ride or die'. incredibly funny film, and i'm glad will smith has been able to bounce back after the Oscars incident. that's another conversation since i have a-many opinions about it. then, on sunday, we went to church in the morning (i felt bad for yawning the whole way but i don't go to church). after that we headed to london, soho specifically. there was a chicken restaurant my mum booked us in for, and the food was amazing! this was also my first time in soho so i was quite excited. we also saw leigh francis, which was such a surprise. after food, we walked around central, from chinatown to trafalgar square. my sister and i even got our caricatures drawn! i didn't want one, but the guy did me justice. unfortunately, he scammed us when we repeatedly asked for a black & white but gave us a colour drawing. b&w = £20, colour = £40. so... yeah.

now, i lay in my bed telling myself i do need to get up soon. i really need a job and some managers are ghosting me (i think) so i will knock on their door to give me an answer.

not much to say, other than i hate hayfever.

talk soon!

mali

[mayamiwynwood]

Nightlife in Miami: Mayami Wynwood Night Clubs, Bars & Party Place

Miami is a city that never sleeps, renowned for its pulsating nightlife, chic venues, and vibrant party scene. Among the city’s top hotspots, Mayami Wynwood stands out as a premier destination for those seeking an unforgettable night out. Located in the heart of Wynwood, Miami’s eclectic arts district, Mayami Wynwood offers an unparalleled nightlife experience, combining cutting-edge design, world-class entertainment, and a lively atmosphere. Here’s why Mayami Wynwood is your go-to spot for the best night out in Miami.

Electric Nightclubs

Mayami Wynwood is home to some of the most dynamic nightclubs in Miami, each offering a unique vibe and energy. The clubs feature state-of-the-art sound and lighting systems, creating an immersive environment where the music and atmosphere come alive. Whether you’re into electronic dance music, hip-hop, or Latin beats, the DJs at Mayami Wynwood spin a variety of genres to keep the dance floors packed all night long. Special guest performances and themed nights add an extra layer of excitement, ensuring there’s always something new to experience.

Chic Bars

For those who prefer a more laid-back but equally stylish setting, the bars at Mayami Wynwood are the perfect choice. Each bar boasts a unique ambiance, from sleek and modern to cozy and intimate, catering to all tastes and moods. Our bartenders are mixology maestros, crafting innovative cocktails that are as visually stunning as they are delicious. Whether you’re enjoying a classic mojito or one of our signature creations, the drinks at Mayami Wynwood are sure to impress. The “Wynwood Mule,” a refreshing twist on the traditional Moscow Mule, is a must-try.

Vibrant Party Atmosphere

At Mayami Wynwood, every night is a celebration. The venue’s vibrant party atmosphere is contagious, drawing in a diverse crowd ready to revel in the night. From bachelorette parties to casual nights out with friends, the energy at Mayami Wynwood is always electric. The spacious dance floors, stylish lounges, and outdoor patios provide plenty of options for mingling and dancing, ensuring you’ll have an unforgettable time no matter where you are in the venue.

Exclusive VIP Experience

For those looking to take their night to the next level, Mayami Wynwood offers an exclusive VIP experience. VIP guests enjoy access to private areas, personalized service, and premium bottle packages. The VIP sections are designed with luxury and comfort in mind, providing an ideal setting for special celebrations or simply indulging in a lavish night out. Our dedicated staff ensures that every detail is taken care of, allowing you to enjoy your night without any worries.

Artistic and Trendy Setting

Wynwood is known for its artistic flair, and Mayami Wynwood perfectly encapsulates this spirit. The venue is adorned with striking murals, contemporary art installations, and stylish decor that reflect the creative energy of the neighborhood. This artistic setting creates a unique and visually stimulating environment, making Mayami Wynwood not just a nightlife spot but a cultural experience. The blend of art and nightlife attracts a hip and trendy crowd, adding to the venue’s overall allure.

Live Music and Performances

Adding to the nightlife allure, Mayami Wynwood regularly hosts live music and performances that elevate the party experience. Local and international artists take the stage, delivering captivating performances that range from live bands to solo acts. The live music nights in miami are a perfect way to kick back and enjoy top-tier entertainment in a lively setting. For something truly unique, don’t miss our themed performance nights, where the entertainment is paired with immersive decor and special effects.

Convenient Location

Situated in the heart of Wynwood, Mayami Wynwood benefits from its prime location amidst Miami’s most exciting attractions. Before hitting the clubs, you can explore the nearby art galleries, boutiques, and restaurants that make Wynwood a must-visit destination. The central location also makes it easy to continue your night at other popular Miami spots, though once you experience the magic of Mayami Wynwood, you might not want to leave.

Experience the Best of Miami’s Nightlife at Mayami Wynwood

Mayami Wynwood encapsulates everything that makes Miami’s nightlife legendary—dynamic clubs, chic bars, live entertainment, and an unbeatable party atmosphere. Whether you’re a local or a visitor, a night out at Mayami Wynwood promises an unforgettable experience that captures the essence of Miami’s vibrant nightlife. Ready to experience it for yourself? Join us at Mayami Wynwood and discover why we’re the ultimate destination for nightlife in Miami.