#Edith Diamond

[njamil21]

The last batch of Alice WIPs are here!

Took me a minute to find these as there were previous drafts of these designs but I didn't like them as much so I'm glad Past!Me already made improvements. Shame I forgot to post them but here we are.

The girl on the left's real name is Viviana, the young daughter of a spanish merchant. After she got scolded and shamed for chopping her hair short without permission, Viviana runs into the forest crying only to nearly drown in a river of her own tears and end up in Wonderland. Viviana's name felt off to the residents of Wonderland so they named her Alice after turning some of the letters upside down and breaking the others into new letters, much to Viviana's frustration. Originally, Viviana's look was more hyperfeminine and too frilly which didn't feel right to me so I went more a more boyish look and leaned into that Mad Hatter aesthetic to help get a more Club or Clover silhouette.

The girl on the right, with the more harsher expression, is Edith who is the youngest of three daughters. She is always trying to differentiate herself from her sisters and prove that she's just as mature but she can't really focus on that when Edith falls through her own mirror and into Wonderland. Not wanting to give her real name to a bunch of weird people, Edith decides to call herself by her sister's name, Alice to protect her identity. Originally, Edith's design was a lot more simpler as she's not a girl who needs a lot of bells and whistles to her look. But then it looked so.... plain so I changed out her boots to something more decorative and added a pattern and rigid hem to her skirt and sleeves in order to give the outfit more dimension.

These are all the designs I had for this weird four Alice concept so look forward to more disjointed sketches this week. But if people wanna talk about it, I'm more than happy to make stuff up about them, haha!

Please do not edit or repost without permission. (I edited my commission prices!)

[oxventure-text-posts]

Propaganda under the cut. [Full Disclosure: I genuinely don't know if they meant dom in a sexual way or a "is more in control/does the leading in most situations" way so nothing is getting cut out of the propaganda just in case.]

Zillah x Lillith:

“Let’s go lesbians!!! Uhhh they’re butch/femme but Lillith is the spookier/dom one, which I love as a dynamic. Also I think Zillah deserves to be in a bi polycule.”

Garnet x Edie:

“LET’S GOOO WILD WEST LESBIANS. This is mostly based off of the exquisite yearning in LaterKater’s fic Private Conversations and uhh yeah. I think Garnet deserves to be a futch who fucks severely”

[purplina]

So lately, my mind has the crunchiest difficulty focusing on ONE thing at a time. Especially now that I can draw freely bc school ended, I want to draw EVERYTHING. SO i have at least 6 drawing/animation projects on going + the writing of the fanfictions I'm working on for years now + films projects and personal writing projects. I'm frustrated to be everywhere and still not manage to finish at least one of them projects 🙄

Anyways, a list of some of my projects, just to tease, just for fun :

•Violet Parr from Indestructibles (only chara designs and fanart illustrations probably)

•Margo, Edith and Agnes from Despicable Me (I actually have an idea of a story centered on the girls, maybe a crossover and i'd like it to be a comic like the Maxley one I started)

•A Tinkerbell fanfiction (I still don't know if I'd write or draw it. The story would focus on the time period Tink ran away with Peter Pan, how the humans War affects Pixie Hollow and the fairies and ask the question "how far can you go to save your sister's life ?" I started an illu and they look NICE fbkskxbcnd)

•Another Goofy Story : Chapter 2

•Some older Barbie movies reimagined

•A LOT of Voltron animatics, animation and silly ideas (+writing the fanfiction)

I got tired writing this. Also it's 5 in the morning, I gotta sleep. Good day to everyone! ✨✨✨

[petticoat]

She had shone her vividest at dinner, with the revolving brilliancy that collective approval always struck from her; and the glow of it still hung on her as she paused there in the dimness, her shining cloak dropped from her white shoulders.

Edith Wharton, The Custom of the Country

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Burn the House Down: Luis Diaz

Can y'all believe that my Catholic papa's favorite character in this book is the tender-hearted drag queen who is openly himself in the middle of the 1940s? It really speaks to how great Luis is! Welcome to the stage Luis Diaz, aka Lucy Diamond or Guadalupe Angelo, everyone's favorite drag queen, uncle, or book club friend! Not afraid to call someone out when they're being an asshole but also not afraid to forgive someone when they've made an effort. He wears zoot suits and sparkling gowns with equal confidence. He lights up any room he enters. I adore him. As his playlist description reads:

The White House's drag queen. The only man Preston truly loved. Proudest one in the family. Unabashedly himself.

@snazzy-hats-and-adhd @blufox3542 @neshatriumphs @khruschevshoe @weedpoop @thesirhandsome-tepalehuia @sillylittlecheeto @nefertittti @henrythepug @meet-me-behindthemall12 @aboutblankpages-blog-blog @artemisiaarm @profiterole-reads @marchionessdebrannas @harrietmjones @thearcaneuniversity @little-bloodied-angel @artemisbones @jacksope-lives @fleuranna @shehungthemoon @spacecatrainshell @celestedeluna @onebigfangirlworld

[allabouttenille]

WrestleMania Weekend

April 5th 2024

Game Changer Wrestling

Joey Janela’s Spring Break 8

Obviously underestimating her opponent, Tenille Dashwood foolishly tried to go hold for hold with Edith Surreal and almost paid the ultimate price as Surreal was able to tie her up and score a near fall early on. Following the early scare, Dashwood showed a much more aggressive side than usual, but Surreal wasn’t intimidated. She continued to simply out wrestle the Australian and scored several more near falls.

Despite the strong showing from Surreal, it only took one small opening for Dashwood to wrap things up. A cross chop to the throat, followed by an elbow to the face left Surreal doubled over, and in prime position for the Spotlight Kick. Dashwood may have come into the match thinking it would be a routine defense, but Surreal was more than capable and on another day would have been able to secure the victory and the TNA Digital Media Championship. Instead, Dashwood manages to make defense number twelve as the record is almost within touching distance now.

Wrestling Revolver x House of Glory

Philadelphia

Having already wrestled four times in less than 24 hours, Tenille Dashwood was grateful for the small reprieve that came in the form of a tag team affair. Even if it meant teaming with the psychotic Killer Kelly. Eager to continue their rather questionable friendship, Kelly opts to start the match and wastes no time in going to the mind games as she successfully leaves the HOG duo of Diamond Virago and The Ultra Violette having no idea what to do to counter her bizarre offense.

If it was intentional, the tactic worked to perfection. Kelly provided the distraction and Dashwood did the damage from behind on the duo to gain the upper hand. Kelly wrestled the majority of the match and focused almost entirely on the shoulder of Virago. In the end, some unlikely teamwork from the Revolver duo saw Kelly attempting the Killer Clutch, but Virago was fighting for her life. Much like Dashwood used to do in aiding Deonna Purrazzo, a Spotlight Kick proved to be vital in ending the resistance and allowing Kelly to apply the submission hold.

Slowly, Dashwood and Kelly are getting on the same page as the Australian quickly runs interference to prevent Violette from making the save when Kelly forces Virago to tap out in the center of the ring. Dashwood has now competed five times this weekend and while it is clearly taking its toll on the Australian, she is also sitting at a 5-0 record, but while the schedule gets lighter, her opposition doesn’t get any easier from here.

[p0orbaby]

Born to Love You Back

summary: a very important question is on the horizon

warnings: none

a/n: some rich!reader for you all

word count: 1.7k

-

The jeweller’s salon is tucked into a narrow street in the 1st arrondissement, down a street so narrow you almost missed it, the kind of place that doesn’t need signage because everyone who matters already knows where it is. The building itself is unassuming but pristine, a five-storey townhouse with cream-coloured stone, wrought-iron balconies, a double door painted a deep charcoal with brass fixtures that gleam in the waning afternoon sun. Outside, a delivery van idles, spilling faint notes of Edith Piaf from its radio as a man unloads crates of flowers: cyclamen, lilies, eucalyptus branches arranged in bursts of green and white. They’ll likely find their way to the salon’s interior within the hour, arranged with almost mathematical precision to evoke a studied nonchalance.

Inside, it’s quiet—museum-like but less sterile, hushed but alive. There’s a balance between the soft hum of conversation from another room and the faint, barely perceptible scent of lilies and leather. The floors are a herringbone parquet, polished to an impossible sheen, and the walls are panelled in dove grey. Everything about the space is designed to whisper money. Even the receptionist, stationed behind a desk lacquered to such a high gloss that it might double as a mirror. She’s mid-twenties, probably just out of university—Sciences Po, perhaps, or one of the Grandes Écoles—wearing a black crepe shift dress that hits just above the knee. Chanel, you’d bet, though it’s hard to tell from here. Her hair is sleek and straight, parted sharply in the middle, her nails painted in Rouge Noir, a colour so iconic it’s practically shorthand for Parisian sophistication. She greets you in French first, then switches to English the moment she hears your accent, though her tone remains precisely the same—warm but not too warm, deferential but not subservient.

Aurélie is waiting for you on the stairs. She’s maybe late thirties, tall, with that certain froideur that women in her line of work cultivate like a second skin. Her blazer is Saint Laurent—black, sharply tailored, peak lapels—and her silk blouse is an ivory so fine it catches the light in a way cotton never could. Her trousers skim the tops of her Louboutin heels—black patent leather, red soles so subtle they barely register. Her jewellery is minimal but deliberate: a single strand of Mikimoto pearls, their lustre so perfect they almost look artificial, and a pair of matching studs. She smiles when she greets you, her lips painted a nude so neutral it could have come from any number of Tom Ford palettes, but you’d guess Casablanca.

“This way, please,” she says, gesturing towards the stairs with a hand that’s manicured in a soft ballet pink, not a chip in sight. You follow her up, noting the faint scent of her perfume—Chanel No. 19, not a popular choice but a discerning one, with its crisp notes of galbanum and iris that feel both professional and unapologetically feminine.

On the landing, there’s a painting—a still life, maybe Cézanne, maybe a very good imitation. You don’t stop to look, but it catches your eye enough to linger in your mind as Aurélie opens a door to the second-floor where Its quieter, darker. The walls are a deep navy—Farrow & Ball, maybe Hague Blue—and the rug beneath the central display case is thick enough to swallow the sound of your footsteps. The case itself is glass-topped and backlit, the kind of lighting that renders diamonds almost supernatural in their brilliance. The rings are arranged by cut and carat, each one nestled in its own velvet slot, the symmetry of the display both calming and slightly overwhelming.

Aurélie steps aside, giving you space but remaining close enough to anticipate your needs. She stands with her hands loosely clasped in front of her, her posture immaculate.

“Take your time,” she says, standing back with the same attentive grace she’s shown since you arrived.

You nod, your gaze already falling to the rings. You’ve thought about this for weeks, maybe months, but standing here, it feels more real, the weight of the decision settling in your chest. Not because you’re uncertain—you’re not—but because this is a moment you’ll remember, whether you want to or not.

The first ring is a cushion-cut diamond, two carats, set in a band of pave diamonds. Platinum, naturally. The proportions are flawless, the craftsmanship impeccable, but as you turn it in the light, you know immediately it’s wrong. Too ornate. Too eager. Alexia would hate it. You imagine her wearing it for a moment, and the thought feels so ridiculous you almost laugh. She doesn’t like excess, at least not in the obvious sense. Her taste is clean, modern, unfussy.

The second ring is pear-shaped, slightly smaller, but with a brilliance that draws your eye. The stone feels alive under the light, its facets catching every subtle movement of your hand. For a moment, you hesitate, thinking about how it would look on her hand, but then you remember something she said once, flipping through a magazine in bed: “Pear cuts are too delicate. They look like they’re trying too hard.”

You sigh, not quite aloud, but enough for Aurélie to notice. She steps closer, just enough to offer a quiet suggestion. “Does she have a preference?” she asks, her tone light, neutral. “For the setting, or the cut?”

“She likes things simple,” you say, the words coming out more clipped than you mean them to. It’s not her fault, this unease you feel. “Classic, but not boring”

Aurélie nods, her expression unchanged, and steps back again. You wonder if she can sense the weight of what you’re doing—if she’s seen enough of this to know the signs. The third ring catches your eye before you reach for it. A round brilliant diamond, 1.8 carats, set in a plain platinum band. No pave, no halo, no embellishments. It’s striking in its simplicity, the kind of ring that doesn’t need to assert itself because it knows what it is. You pick it up, holding it to the light, and as you turn it, something settles in you. This is the one. You don’t need to overthink it.

Aurélie smiles faintly, as though she already knew. “Shall I prepare it for you?” she asks.

You nod, handing it back, and she takes it with both hands, disappearing into a back room.

While she’s gone, you pull out your phone. You shouldn’t call her—she’s probably still at training, her mind on drills and tactics—but you do it anyway. She answers on the third ring, her voice steady but soft, with that familiar cadence you’ve missed more than you’d care to admit.

“Hey,” she says, her voice clear, grounded, with just the faintest lilt of distraction. In the background, there’s a low murmur of voices, the familiar thud of a ball meeting turf, maybe a coach shouting something that’s swallowed up by the wind. You imagine the sun slicing through the Catalan sky, the kind of relentless brightness that makes the whole city shimmer.

“Hey,” you reply, smoothing nonexistent creases from your blazer out of habit, though no one is watching. Your reflection in the polished glass of the display case looks composed, disinterested, but the sound of her voice pulls something taut inside you. “How’s training?”

“Same as always,” she says, and there’s a pause—just long enough for you to hear her exhale softly, almost imperceptibly. You know she’s stepped aside, moved to some quieter corner of the training complex where no one will overhear. She’s careful like that, never careless, always aware of her surroundings.

“Still exhausting?” you ask, and she laughs under her breath—a low, warm sound that lingers longer than it should.

“Mhm,” she hums, the sound of it makes you smile despite yourself. “But it’s a good kind of exhausting. You know how it is”

“Not sure I do,” you tease, leaning against the edge of the display case, its surface cool against your hand. “I can’t say I’ve run laps around a pitch lately. Unless you count running several businesses as exercise”

“Of course,” she says, dry but affectionate, “such an athlete. Truly inspiring”

The corner of your mouth twitches upward. “I aim to impress”

There’s a faint rustle of movement on her end—maybe she’s leaning against a wall, maybe adjusting the strap of her training bib. You picture her in that effortless way she carries herself: shorts sitting just right, socks perfectly rolled down, hair tied back in that half-loose, half-styled way that only someone like her can pull off.

“Where are you?” she asks, not because she doesn’t know, but because it’s the kind of question you ask when you want the conversation to last a little longer.

“Near Rue de la Paix,” you say, keeping it vague. “Finishing up a meeting”

“You’re always finishing up a meeting,” she says, and there’s a lightness to her tone, but it doesn’t quite hide the subtext.

“You’re always training,” you counter, matching her tone, and you hear her chuckle, soft but genuine.

“Buen punto”

There’s a brief pause. In the background, someone calls her name, a voice you don’t recognise, and she responds with a quick, sharp “Un momento.” The way she switches languages so fluidly—it’s seamless—and yet it reminds you, in a small but certain way, that her world is different from yours. Barcelona, with its golden afternoons and relentless sun, its terracotta rooftops and restless streets, feels a thousand miles away from the polished stillness of this Parisian jewellers.

“You should,” you encouraged knowing full well she’ll make no move to end the call herself.

“I’ll see you tonight?” she asks, and it’s a question, but not really.

“Of course,” you say, without hesitation this time.

There’s another silence after that, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s the kind of silence you could live in, one where nothing needs to be said because the words are already understood. Finally, she says, “Te quiero,” and you hear the faint click as she ends the call.

Aurélie returns with the ring, now nestled in a velvet box so pristine it looks almost untouched by human hands. You slip it into your pocket, the weight of it grounding you, and leave the salon with a nod of thanks.

Outside, Paris feels sharper, brighter. The air smells faintly of rain and burnt sugar from a nearby crepe stand, and the light is just beginning to soften as dusk approaches. For the first time all day, you feel steady.

[queam]

Some of my other fallout ocs !!

Edith, a vault dweller and Michael’s(courier 6) on and off girlfriend (they have a complicated relationship)

Rachel, member of the ncr police military, also secretly in a relationship with Kimberly, a bos knight

Kimberly, a devoted bos knight (she’s more prevalent in fo4 than fnv because she gets relocated to the commonwealth around the time of fo4, and she becomes friends with my sole survivor, Nancy!)

Anissa, a diamond city resident who may or may not be a synth

Mackenzie, my fo3 lone wanderer

Michael’s sister and unnamed enclave general who turns into a ghoul

[officialdaydreamer00]

Aimless outing

in which you took your significant other out for a ride.

pairing: idia shroud x yuu/reader

contents: kinda short oneshot, lower case intended, this is just a spoonful of sugar tbh, everyone thank deuce for lending us his blastcycle, kinda ooc idia? idk, actually based on a screenshot in the game i'm playing and i love that lmao, reader is referred to as yuu, gender neutral reader and narrated with you/yours

★ the daydreamer speaks — my second entry for my tumblr older sibling @cloudcountry's sweet shroud summer 2024!! the worms are worming and i'm on a roll hehe ^-^

do i tag? yes, i do. my main idia liker: @edith-is-a-cat, others: @identity-theft-101 @keii-starz @xen-blank @loser-jpg @lemonchuu @dove-da-birb @twistwonderlanddevotee @escha-evenstar

remember to comment or reblog if you enjoy my work!!

"Yuu-shi, where are we going!?"

"Somewhere, anywhere! Does it really matter?"

a slow sunday and the lack of immediate tasks in your schedule was all you needed. and what better way to spend the day with your beloved than taking him out for a ride?

deuce was kind enough to lend you his blastcycle for this little trip of yours, wishing you good luck and all, and you've already gotten permission to go out from the headmage the day before, as much as you hated his gut. meanwhile, ortho was doing his best to get idia waiting outside of campus, and making sure he didn't second guess his desicions before you arrive.

and that led us to where you were now, going kilometres per hour as if gliding through the highway, feeling the cool wind of a chilly afternoon excitedly picking up your hair as the sun retreated behind the mountains. you loved the thrill it gave you, if the bright wide grin on your face was of any indications.

idia, on the other hand, was a bit overwhelmed. with his arms coiled tightly around your waist, hands trembling ever so slightly, he hid his face in your hair, not daring even a peek at the blurring surroundings.

"It's not a ride if you can't see what made it so fun in the first place, Idia! Just give it a try, then we can go back if you want."

idia stayed quiet, weighing his options. he could ask you to go back and return to the monotony of his life, safe yet nothing special. or, he could continue on this ride, just you and him on the road to an ambiguous destination.

he opened his eyes, widening as they laid on the most beautiful painting of dusk mother nature had drawn. white, pink, and orange blended together so harmoniously on a darkening blue canvas. rows of clouds lined the sky, bouncing around the little lights left of the sun onto the crashing waves the sea created.

his breath was taken away.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?"

idia could only muttered a soft 'yeah' as his eyes glued at picturesque scenery, taking in all he could for he wasn't sure he was going to see such a sight again. his tight grip on you slowly loosened, now only wrapping around your waist like a warm hug you would give him on chilly days.

the moon soon made its appearance as the canvas of nature was painted black, stars glimmering from beyond like diamonds in the sky. the two of you was making your way back to campus, with the blastcycle's headlights and idia's hair illuminating the road.

idia found the night sky beautiful, a lot different from dusk, but he loved it all the same.

it was a fleeting sensation of a thrill so different than what his heart was used to, but it was welcoming, a comfort even. especially when you were there with him, laughing without a care and genuinely living in the moment.

it was a memory he wished to never forget.

[rmstitanics]

* FAMOUS INDIVIDUALS WITH YOUR MOON SIGN.

If you’re looking for suggestions on which authors and music artists to check out next, look to your moon sign! In Western astrology, the moon is said to represent your subconscious mind, emotions, and inner personality, so it is widely believed that we tend to relate to media by artists who share our moon sign.

♈️ ARIES MOON

WRITERS:

Gore Vidal

George R. R. Martin

Nicholas Sparks

Rick Riordan

Jennifer Lynn Barnes

Christopher Paolini

MUSICIANS:

P!nk

Whitney Houston

Céline Dion

Selena Gomez

Rihanna

Tupac

♉️ TAURUS MOON

WRITERS:

Jodi Picoult

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Hans Christian Anderson

Clive Barker

George Bernard Shaw

Aldous Huxley

MUSICIANS:

Pharrell Williams

Kelly Clarkson

Bob Dylan

Demi Lovato

Christina Aguilera

Pitbull

♊️ GEMINI MOON

WRITERS:

C. S. Lewis

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Orson Scott Card

Franz Kafka

Margaret Mitchell

R.A. Salvatore

T. S. Elliot

MUSICIANS:

Ella Fitzgerald

Florence Welch

Art Garfunkel

Billy Idol

Sia

Tina Turner

♋️ CANCER MOON

WRITERS:

George Orwell

Liu Cixin

Brandon Sanderson

Cassandra Clare

Diana Gabaldon

Lois Lowry

MUSICIANS:

Tchaikovsky

Taylor Swift

Kurt Cobain

Halsey

Aretha Franklin

Janis Joplin

♌️ LEO MOON

Oscar Wilde

Holly Black

Geraldine Brooks

James Dashner

Jack London

Ta Nehisi Coates

MUSICIANS:

Lana Del Ray

Paul McCartney

Queen Latifah

Niall Horan

Bruno Mars

David Bowie

♍️ VIRGO MOON

WRITERS:

Leo Tolstoy

John Grisham

Claudia Gray

Isabel Allende

Xiran Jay Zhao

Douglas Adams

MUSICIANS:

Dolly Parton

Nicki Manaj

Madonna

Lorde

Bo Burnham

Lizzo

♎️ LIBRA MOON

WRITERS:

Jane Austen

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Sylvia Plath

William Shakespeare

Maya Angelou

R.F. Kuang

MUSICIANS:

Ariana Grande

Charli XCX

Bruce Springsteen

Jay-Z

Harry Styles

Fergie

♏️ SCORPIO MOON

WRITERS:

Veronica Roth

Edith Wharton

V.E. Schwab

Harper Lee

Keira Cass

Meg Cabot

MUSICIANS:

Lady Gaga

Tyler the Creator

Cyndi Lauper

Beyoncé

Bob Marley

The Weeknd

♐️ SAGITTARIUS MOON

WRITERS:

Stephen King

Victor Hugo

Marie Lu

Suzanne Collins

Samantha Shannon

Adam Silvera

MUSICIANS

Hozier

Freddie Mercury

Adele

Ludwig Van Beethoven

Chappell Roan

John Legend

♑️ CAPRICORN MOON

WRITERS:

Sarah J. Maas

J.M. Barrie

Jeff Shaara

Joyce Carol Oates

Stephanie Meyer

Angie Thomas

MUSICIANS:

Frédéric Chopin

Neil Diamond

Jon Bon Jovi

Lin-Manuel Miranda

Stevie Nicks

Donna Summer

♒️ AQUARIUS MOON

WRITERS:

Margaret Atwood

Leigh Bardugo

Louisa May Alcott

Seth Grahame-Smith

Anthony Horowitz

S.E. Hinton

MUSICIANS:

Cody Simpson

Marilyn Monroe

Britney Spears

Billie Eilish

Tim McGraw

Carrie Underwood

♓️ PISCES MOON

WRITERS:

Toni Morrison

Edgar Allen Poe

Malcolm Gladwell

Lisa McMann

Alice Oseman

Philippa Gregory

MUSICIANS:

Kenny Chesney

Elvis Presley

Frank Sinatra

Prince

Kendrick Lamar

Sabrina Carpenter

[inkmonster21]

Wildflowers in the Wind

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

Warning: 18+ SMUT/public sex

42. Not Property

You smiled warmly, watching as Grace joyfully played with young Maggie, the piano lesson finished. Edith sat beside you on the porch, a soft smile graced her lips as she witnessed the scene unfold before her.

Edith’s words carried a pang of worry and gratitude, her eyes reflecting the weight of the situation. "I can’t thank you enough. It’s nice to see her smile. She’s been taking this hard. He doesn’t seem to be getting better," she said softly, her voice tinged with concern for the young girl’s well-being and the uncertain recovery of her father.

Your words were sincere, your expression growing heavy with empathy as you responded to Edith, "I am sorry, Mrs. Downes. I will pray for you and your family. There’s no greater loss than a good husband and father."

Edith smiled softly, her eyes showing her appreciation for your words, "Thank you. He… He is a good man."

The sky was painted in hues of orange and pink, the setting sun bathing the world in a warm glow. The long day was beginning to wind down, the hours of sunlight slowly fading.

You and Grace walked back home, the evening sky growing dark around you. The walk was quiet and peaceful, the stillness of the night enveloping the two of you.

You tucked Grace into bed, the soft glow of the lamplight in her room offering a warm ambiance. With the girl asleep, you prepared yourself for the evening performance at the saloon.

You stood before the mirror, applying final touches to your appearance. You wore a form-fitting dress in a flattering dark green color that accentuated your figure. Your hair had been styled, curled, and pinned elegantly, enhancing your features. A slight dusting of blush and subtle highlights accentuated the natural contours of your face. Lastly, the only adornment was a delicate gold necklace around your neck and the diamond earrings that glistened in the lamplight, completing your transformation.

You took a final glance at your reflection, satisfied with how you looked before making your way outside into the crisp night air. The walk to the saloon was brisk and invigorating, the sound of crickets and the distant whinny of horses accompanied the clinking of your heels against the wood of the wooden sidewalk. As the saloon came into view, the lights poured from the windows in a bright, inviting glow.

As you entered the saloon, the attention of the patrons immediately turned towards you. The low, appreciative whistles of recognition filled the air, accompanied by murmurs of admiration from the men lounging at the tables.

You stepped onto the stage, a warm smile on your face as you acknowledged the band. "Hello, boys," you spoke, your voice carrying over the low hum of conversation within the saloon.

The band members greeted you with soft applause and grins, their excitement to start playing evident in their faces. The instruments struck up a lively tune, the music filling the saloon with a lively energy.

You twirled and danced across the stage, your voice singing with ease and grace. The atmosphere of the saloon was full of life, the patrons clapping along with the music and watching you perform with great enthusiasm.

The show continued on, the lively atmosphere in the saloon growing more rowdy as the night progressed. The patrons became more boisterous, their energy building with each song you performed.

As you continued to perform, your gaze briefly flitted up to the second floor. There, the owner stood, a drink in hand, a sly smirk on his face as he regarded you with a mixture of approval and admiration.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes in response to the owner's smug expression. His ogling made you feel a mixture of annoyance and disgust.

The night drew to a close, and the owner himself approached, holding out an envelope filled with bills. "Should all be there," he remarked confidently, a hint of satisfaction in his tone as he handed the envelope to you.

You received the envelope and counted the bills inside. To your satisfaction, you found that the amount was in full, a rare occurrence that brought a sense of contentment to your weary heart.

The owner's smirk widened as he moved closer to you, his tone suggestive as he offered, "You know, I can pay more for some private time?" His gaze lingered on you, a hint of desire in his eyes.

You felt a mix of distaste and anger at the owner's audacity. His words and his grab at your waist were unwelcome and inappropriate. "Get your hands off of me. How dare you insinuate something like that. I'm a lady!" you exclaimed firmly, your voice filled with indignation that anyone would think otherwise.

"I was just messing now, darling," he chuckled, his attempt at playfulness doing little to soothe your irritation. Yet, despite your clear disinterest, the owner persisted, his grip on your waist refusing to loosen.

The owner's smirk turned into a look of astonishment as a large hand abruptly seized him by the shirt, yanking him away from you. Turning, he found himself face to face with Arthur, his expression firm and unyielding.

The room grew quiet, the atmosphere tense and charged with anger. Arthur's voice was low and threatening, his words leaving no room for doubt. "You touch her again, and I cut off your hand," he warned, his gaze fixed on the owner, his stance ready for a fight if need be.

The owner, taken aback by the sudden confrontation, paled and backed off, raising his hands in surrender. "Woah, woah now," he protested, his voice shaky and uncertain. "I wasn't doing nothing!"

Arthur's gaze narrowed, his grip still on the man's shirt, his irritation barely contained. "You were touching what ain't yours," he growled, his tone cold and unyielding.

The owner's fear was evident as he frantically tried to explain himself. "She’s my employee," he stated firmly, his voice desperate. "It was just a joke, honest!"

Arthur's grip on the man's shirt tightened, his patience wearing thin. "Ain't nothing to joke bout,” he retorted, his tone laced with warning. "She ain't here to be your plaything."

The owner, realizing his predicament, raised his hands higher in surrender. "Okay, okay, I got it," he conceded, his voice tinged with fear.

Wordlessly, Arthur let go of the man and gently guided you out of the saloon. His anger was palpable, his expression stern as he carefully led you away from the rowdy scene inside.

You quickened your pace to keep up with Arthur's long strides, your voice pleading as you called out his name. "Arthur. Arthur!" Each time you spoke, your voice held a hint of urgency and concern.

His face was hard, tight, not even looking at you. “What?” He snapped.

You felt a pang of hurt at his cold tone, but pressed on anyway, "I could have handled it."

His gaze still straight ahead, he responded curtly, "Didn't have to, I was there." The frustration in Arthur's words was undeniable as he expressed his thoughts. "I was there the whole damn time. Watching you whirl around and sing, looking all pretty for every drunken fool in there," he grumbled, his voice tinged with irritation and jealousy.

Frustration built in you. "Ive done this for 8 years! Just because you come around, I'm just supposed to stop?"

He snapped back, "No, just don't have to be so goddamn pretty doing it!"

You stopped walking, staring him down, "WHAT?"

He stopped and faced you, his frustration shifting into a different kind of emotion. "I ain't mad at you," he explained, his voice tinged with sincerity, "I just... I want to provide for you. You shouldn't have to worry about working… dealing with that."

"I don't need you to provide for me, or protect me... I've been taking good care of myself and Grace for years. And I was just fine without you." You snapped, getting a little upset.

"Yeah? Well, that just don't sit right with me." His voice was low, with a hint of possessiveness.

You shook your head, "I am not some possession. I am my own person, capable of making my own decisions without your constant intervention and-“, your words were cut off by the suddenness of Arthur's actions. He pulled you into his embrace and kissed you forcefully, silencing your words with the intensity of his actions.

His words hung in the air, a mix of dominance and possessiveness in his tone. "You're my woman, and I'm going to take care of you. You can fight me on it all you want, but we both know I'm stronger. You're mine" he declared, his grip on your waist tightening.

Your eyes locked onto his, and despite your initial resistance, you found yourself unable to argue with his statement. The intensity of his gaze, coupled with the possessive hold on your waist, made it hard to maintain your defiance.

You relented, a surrender in your voice as you replied, "Okay, yeah, sure." The concession came as a result of the mix of determination in Arthur's words and the undeniable attraction between you both.

A slight chuckle escaped Arthur's lips, a hint of victory glimmering in his eyes. He could sense your surrender, and his grip on your waist loosened, but he continued to hold you close, “There’s my good girl.”

With a determined stride, Arthur ushered you through the narrow alleyway between the buildings, the darkness surrounding you like a cloak. The air between you crackled with tension as the distance between your bodies lessened in the secluded space.

“What are you-“ Before you could finish your question, Arthur silenced you with a passionate kiss. His lips captured yours in a powerful, possessive gesture, his body pressing against you, pinning you against the wall.

“Arthur,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat. “We’re almost home.”

The wall was rough wood, splintered and worn from years of exposure to the elements. Arthur’s hand slid from yours, moving to your waist as he pressed you against the wall. His body loomed over you, his heat enveloping you like a flame. You could feel the hardness of his chest against your breasts, the roughness of his stubble grazing your cheek.

“Home can wait,” he growled, his lips brushing your ear. His breath was warm, his words sending a jolt of desire straight to your core. You shivered, your hands instinctively reaching up to grip the front of his shirt. He smelled of leather and smoke, a scent that was uniquely him, and it only added to the urgency building inside you.

Arthur’s hands moved with purpose, his fingers splaying across your lower back as he pulled you tighter against him.

His lips found yours, hungry and demanding, his kiss leaving no doubt about what he wanted. You melted into him, your lips parting as his tongue swept into your mouth, tasting and teasing with a possessiveness that made your knees weak.

His hands roamed lower, cupping your ass and lifting you slightly as he pressed his body against yours. You moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled by his lips. The wall was rough against your back, but you barely noticed, too consumed by the heat spiraling between you. Arthur’s kisses trailed down your jaw, his stubble scraping your skin in a way that was both rough and tender.

“You drive me crazy,” he muttered against your neck, his voice hoarse with need. His hands were everywhere, his touch both urgent and reverent. He slid one hand up your thigh, the rough fabric of your skirt bunching in his grip as he pulled your leg around his hip. You gasped, your head falling back against the wall as you felt the hard length of him pressing against you.

“Arthur,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Someone could see us.”

He chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Let ’em,” he said, his lips brushing your collarbone. “Ain't gonna change nothin’. You’re mine, darlin’. Always have been.”

His words were like a spark, igniting a fire that had been smoldering all night. You pulled him closer, your hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. He caught your wrists, holding them above your head as he kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue stroking yours with a rhythm that mirrored the desperate ache between your legs.

“Not yet,” he murmured, his lips hovering over yours. “I wanna take my time with you.”

But his actions belied his words. His hands were anything but slow as they moved to the laces of your corset, his fingers working quickly to loosen the ties. The cool night air brushed your skin as he pulled the fabric apart, his gaze dropping to your exposed breasts.

His eyes darkened, his breath hitching as he cupped one in his hand, his thumb brushing your nipple. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire. He lowered his head, his lips closing around your nipple, his tongue swirling and sucking until you were squirming against him, your fingers digging into his shoulders. His other hand moved lower, slipping beneath your skirts to find the damp heat between your legs.

You gasped, your head falling back against the wall as his fingers slid between your folds, teasing and probing until you were trembling with need.

“Arthur, please,” you whispered, your voice desperate. “I need you.”

He growled in response, his hand tightening on your thigh as he lifted you higher, pressing you against the wall.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, your skirts bunched around your hips as he positioned himself at your entrance. His eyes locked with yours, his expression fierce and hungry as he thrust into you in one smooth motion.

You cried out, the sensation overwhelming as he filled you completely. The wall was hard against your back, the night air cool on your exposed skin, but all you could feel was Arthur—his heat, his strength, the way he moved inside you with a rhythm that was both rough and tender. He held you steady, his hands gripping your hips as he began to move, his thrusts deep and relentless.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, his forehead pressing against yours. “So fuckin’ good.”

His words were like fuel to the fire, pushing you closer to the edge. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as you met his thrusts, your bodies moving in perfect sync. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you, the rough wall, and the desperate need that consumed you both.

“Arthur,” you gasped, your voice breaking as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. “I’m—”

He silenced you with a kiss, his lips crushing yours as you shattered around him, your orgasm ripping through you like a storm. He followed moments later, pulling out of you and coating your thigh with his spent. His body stiffened, his groan muffled against your lips.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you clung to each other. Arthur’s heart pounded against your chest, his weight pressing you into the wall. Slowly, he pulled back, his eyes searching yours as he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

He chuckled, a warm, genuine sound that made you feel like the luckiest woman alive. With a gentle kiss to your forehead, he lowered you to the ground, his hands smoothing your skirts back into place. The moment of passion had passed, but the heat between you remained, a smoldering ember waiting to ignite again.

Taking your hand once more, Arthur led you back toward home, his steps slower now, his grip lax. The night was quiet, the only sound was the soft crunch of gravel beneath your boots. You glanced up at him, catching his eye, and saw the same contentment reflected in his gaze.

You whispered the words against his lips, your voice carrying the weight of your sincerity and affection. "I love you," you murmured, the words escaping your lips in a tender confession.

His breath hitched for a moment in surprise, a mix of emotions coursing through him at your words. He held you even tighter, his grip firm and protective. "I love you, darlin’," he whispered back, his voice filled with an undeniable intensity.

[oxventure-text-posts]

[that-smallinjured-bowylamb]

🪞🪽 The lads here are a bit mad, but everyone is mad in their ways, no? 🪞🪽

Riddle Rosehearts

💋🪽Wifey material, but can still kick ass💋🪽

💋🪽The winner takes it all, The loser gives it all💋🪽

💘Appearances over heart? Damn.💘

More angels in the progress!

Trey Clover

Hmm... no Angel has any records about the heavenly baker at this current moment. Do you want to help him bake, dearie...? It will be much more sweeter if you're around.

Cater Diamond

Hmm... no Angel has any records about the mysterious celeb at this current moment. Would you like to capture this sweet moment with him, precious...? You could make it much more livelier with your presence.

Ace Trappola

Hmm... no Angel has any record of the sly card at this current moment. Would you go with him to have fun, prefect...? It'd be extra fun with you and him.

Deuce Spade

💋🪽The winner takes it all, The loser gives it all💋🪽

Hmm... no Angel has any records of the gentle soldier at this current moment. Would you like to come to town with him, [Name]...? It's much more fun when you're here with him.

HEARTSLABYUL DIVIDER (or the dorm dividers) ARE BY @edith-is-a-cat AND CREDITS TO @cafekitsune FOR THE BOW AND HEARTS DIVIDERS (I'm not sure if I'm using it correctly, help 🙏)

[honey-minded-hivemind]

X-Men Evolution Plyalist, Part One, The X-Teens-

☆ Afternoom Car Ride With Scott ☆

• Believer - American Authors

• Yellow - Coldplay

• Sweater Weather - The Neighborhood

• Brother - NEEDTOBREATHE

• Home - Edith Whiskers

◇ Soccer Practice/Game With Jean ◇

• Cool For The Summer - Demi Lovato

• Just Like Fire - P!NK

• Tough To Be A God - Annapatsu cover

• Walking The Wire - Imagine Dragons

• Thank You For Being A Friend - Andrew Gold

□ Friendly Outing With Kurt □

• Rock Me Amadeus - Falco

• Born This Way - Lady Gaga

• I'm Good (Blue) - Bebe Rexha ft. David Guetta

• La Da Dee - Cody Simpson

• Have It - Jason Mraz

♡ Dancing With Kitty ♡

• Girls Just Wanna Have Fun - Cindi Lauper

• Roar - Katy Perry

• Hot To Go - Chapelle Roan

• Dancing Queen - ABBA

• Call Me Maybe - Carly Rae Jepsen

♧ Painting Your Nails Black With Rogue ♧

• Part Of Me - Katy Perry

• Girls/Girls/Boys - P!ATD

• Lean On - DJ Lazer

• Diamonds - Rihanna

• Home - Lindsey Sterling

♤ Skating With Evan ♤

• Rock Star - Smash Mouth

• Dynamite - Taio Cruz

• Let's Groove - Earth, Wind and Fire

• Amsterdam - Imagine Dragons

• Hey Brother - Avicii

@sugar-soda @vivid-bun @danniloversugar @thewickedweiner @wolvesbane1984 @crowwithguns @crow-crystal @bluemoonice

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Thomas King, Edith Payne, and Charlotte Rowland (1950s Hollywood AU)

But Theresa King, just like Marilyn, is more than that. She’s an actress who can act fucking circles around her co-stars who are decades older than her yet no wiser. She cares about her craft, regardless of what people think of her.

So she’ll become a cat with nine lives. She’ll remake herself over and over again, whatever it takes, evolve and adapt with the industry, and prove them all wrong that she was ever 'just' a pretty face.

She’s good at that sort of thing. She’s good at adapting, at becoming what people want, or rather, to be honest, proving that what she is is what they want. It's how she survives. It's how she rules. None of her co-stars are as popular as her and they know it and they hate it but she revels in her reign at the top.

But behind the scenes, it’s a whole different ball game.

Here, at her mansion, at her home, this place that no preacher would ever condone, Theresa and Thomasin vanish into the guise of something truer. A woman who does not drape herself in gowns and diamonds, but men’s suits and top hats. Sure, she doesn’t mind a bit of sparkle on her lapel- who wouldn’t- but she’s still far more masculine than any who see her on the screen would give her credit for.

Here, she is not a queen, but a King. The ruler of her kingdom. The emperor reigning from above.

-aletterinthenameofsanity, rather be famous (than righteous or holy)

I was Cleopatra, I was young and an actress

When you knelt by my mattress and asked for my hand

Well, I must admit it, that I would marry you in an instant

Damn your wife, I'd be your mistress just to have you around

And while the church discouraged any lust that burned within me

Yes, my flesh it was my currency, but I held true

I won't be late for this, late for that, late for the love of my life

-The Lumineers, Cleopatra

@anything-thats-rock-and-roll @tw0-ravens @dont-offend-the-bees

@dear-monday @rexrevri @idliketobeatree

@tumblerislovetumblerislife @shaylogic

@laiqualaurelote @artemisadore @birdnonsense

@qwanderer @every-moment-a-different-sound

@carebeardean @tragedy-machine

[nosebleedsturn]

⊹₊⟡⋆₊⊹

Camille Ann Swan, 20 played by Cindy Kimberly

Taurus, May 13th, 2004

spring, pink, cigarettes after sex, lady killers: g-eazy, bunnies, fur, bows, red and pink lipstick, dior, blush blindness, blue eyeshadow, almond nails, ballerina, alexa demie, white, red bull, sunshine, angel energy, slick back, claw clips, sleepy, nude lip, college girl, book smart, love witch, vanille perfume's, silver jewelry, insane lore, fluent in french, tiffany & co.

Salvatore: Lana del Rey

You are in love: Taylor swift

New Romantics: Taylor swift

Lovers: Anna of the north

Adore you: Miley Cyrus

Love of my life: harry styles

Beach baby: bon iver

La vie en rose: Edith Piaf

Diamonds are a girls best friend: Marilyn Monroe

N O S E B L E E D S