#all these paintings were done in an hour each though some or most were little less because I got bored after a while

[swordgrace]

& 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐈’𝐌 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

⠀ཾ༵ 𑁍┆ gwayne hightower x wife!reader.

SYNOPSIS: you and your husband decide to take advantage of the quiet gardens near the red keep.

anonymous request.

{ FORMAT: drabble — requested by anonymous.

{ WORD COUNT: 4.1K.

{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), porn with little plot, risk of getting caught, semi-public sex, gwayne is a switch, cunt-drunk gwayne, sex in the red keep gardens, teasing, hair-pulling kink, oral sex (fem!rec), cunnilingus, groping, making out, dirty talk, mild praise kink, p in v sex (unprotected), mild scratching, soft ending.

{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: I am on the Gwayne train right now, I just adore writing for him. This is a smaller story, and I think writing some drabbles might do me a bit of good! I hope that you all enjoy! ❤️ Thanks so much for the love & support!

𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐩, 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐚.

The smell was akin to a perfumed dowager, the air thick with roses and honey, petals drifting along in the evening breeze. It was a stark contrast to the pungent scent of the rest of the city — perhaps that is why you favored the gardens.

Orange tendrils of a waning sun spread across the leaves, verdant and bright, turning the gardens all sorts of colors — shades of emerald and gold, intermingling with the many flowers there.

Most souls that had occupied the gardens had made themselves scarce, turning it into a paradise that only you shared with another. You often admired the general splendor even when it was crowded, but now, it gave you a rather unobstructed view.

The various palette of the gardens, particularly any deeper shades of forest-green, matched that of your husband’s doublet, embroidered with golden thread. It was strange to see Gwayne removed from his armor, his silvery vassal that kept him well-protected.

In the aftermath of Rook’s Rest, there were days spent in respite, much to your delight. Though, war would steal him away from you again — you intended on making the most out of each moment, beseeching him to remain by your side. He obliged you, fortunately, and you never objected to it.

A golden hour, brightest before dusk, painted you in shades that Gwayne had committed to memory, your features bathed in dying light. You were swathed in gowns of cerulean, a deeper shade of azure that had brought him to heel when you emerged with it on.

Merrily, he often touted that he had the most beautiful wife in all of the realm, and such a sentiment didn’t change nor waver. It was resolute, done with a fondness that made its way to you.

“Perhaps, once this conflict comes to a close, you and I shall return to Oldtown,” Gwayne’s gallant resonance cut through the contented silence, his timbre often filled with regality, the elegant poise of a well-learned Knight. “I’ve grown surfeited by this grisly place.”

If Gwayne had not been so proficient with a blade, you suspected that a quill and his sharp tongue would’ve done him a world of good in another lifetime. His flowery speech had charmed you time and time again, and you were left captivated.

Oldtown had become your home, a sanctuary of which you and Gwayne had built a peaceful life together. With Prince Daeron in your care, it was something of a family — one that you suspected would grow in the near future.

“As have I,” With a gentle sigh, your fingers danced along his velvet-clad forearm, your arm interlaced with his as he led you through the teeming labyrinth. At twilight, it had become wonderfully quiet, a place of solace away from the bustling hum of the Red Keep. “It is a dour place.”

Dour was a mere understatement — Gwayne knew what harm this city could do, crushed beneath the oppressive weight of the Red Keep. Even in its architectural splendor, it remained a shadow, haunting your every step as it loomed above the both of you.

Even in the sanctuary of the Gardens, one could not escape it. He did not envy his sister for being sequestered here for most of her lifetime — he imagined that it likely led to a path of misfortune and frustration. Being in Oldtown, he could afford many liberties, freedoms that weren’t permitted in King’s Landing.

As you continued on your path, a stone terrace opened before you, a comely overlook with a sizable gazebo, marked by dimly-lit torches. Save for the picturesque view of Blackwater Bay, it was surrounded by foliage and flora on all sides.

Gwayne felt your concern in waves, an unspoken sentiment, knowing that he would be called to leave again. Cole’s armies were rallying to march to Harrenhal, and he was summoned to ride alongside him, the second-in-command. You had made your disdain for this known, and Gwayne couldn’t fault you for it.

“I would sorely dislike it if our time together was to be spent in silence,” He watched you through cerulean hues as you rounded the gazebo, moving toward the overlook. Waves gently lapped at the outcropping of rock, breaking upon it, saltwater kisses peppering your cheeks. “I have a duty, dearest.”

A begrudging sigh tore past your lips, and you staved off the sudden onslaught of turmoil. You had come to-terms with the inevitability of his departure — you had dealt with it once before, but the sting never lessened. “I understand. I loathe you and love you for it.” You murmured, your smile threadbare.

Your answer retained a twinge of lightheartedness to it, in the face of a bleak future. Gwayne couldn’t help but scoff, visage dancing with amusement as he stepped toward one of the massive walls of gardenias. Plucking a pale blossom from its stem, he crossed the stone to you, a gesture of affection.

“Loathe me, is that it?” Gwayne wouldn’t have your last moments together spent in melancholy — and you seemed to be in agreement. He placed the blossom behind your ear, carefully tucking it into place. “Have I vexed you so easily?”

Planting a palm against his chest, you allowed your fingertips to trace across plated velvet, dancing toward the Hightower sigil, embroidered into the collar. He was resplendent in noblemen’s garb, painfully handsome and fresh-faced, save for the healing cut upon his lip and bruised brow.

A taut, muscled arm moved to snake around your waist, effortlessly caging you in against him. Your saccharine scent invaded his senses, swarming around his head like a thick haze, one that he delighted in. Beneath the evening sky, he made his ardor for you known, a real and living thing.

“You are swift to credit yourself, husband. I may resort to knocking you from your pedestal.” You teased, tender voice growing softer, a mere purr to his ears. Gods, you were wonderfully divine — Gwayne brazenly squeezed your hip through your gowns, auburn brows lifting in amusement.

Instead of puffing his chest with a playful retort, Gwayne could no longer resist the tempting curve of your lips, craning down to kiss you. It was a sweet mingling of mouths, slow and exploratory, happy to take their time with one another.

The first inklings of an amorous heat crackled between the both of you, a rapturous hunger that hadn’t been sated since he returned from Rook’s Rest. You simply could not get enough of your beloved husband, hands clamoring from his plush doublet to his mane of copper tresses, gripping them tightly.

Even with the thicker material of your dress, Gwayne greedily grasped at your curves, able to feel the pliant swell of your physique beneath. You had already seduced him with your steep necklace and ample bosom — sometimes, you were more of a salacious minx than you were a maiden. He enjoyed you both ways.

Your chambers in the Red Keep seemed so far away, and neediness began to take root, desire flourishing where propriety could not. As you insistently tugged upon his auburn locks, Gwayne felt his cock stir to life within his trousers, twitching as if to remind him of his carnal need for you.

“Incomparable, I must confess,” Gwayne exhaled, hot breath fluttering across your visage. Hints of wine retained their presence upon his tongue, skin smelling of woodland musk and fine soaps. “Not a single wandering eye to find us here.” His timbre dropped into a delectable purr, lips pressing themselves to the curve of your jaw.

Exhilaration struck at the pit of your stomach, coupled with the familiar wave of arousal, its inklings slick and warm between your legs. “What are you implying, husband?” You asked, breathy and wanton, clinging to him like a drowning woman.

A low, teasing hum slipped betwixt his lips, mouth molding to your flesh, gliding across the slender column of your throat. One hand dropped to cup your derrière through the thicker material of your dress, longing to see it around your feet, instead.

A sheepish moan tore past your mouth, unabashedly stoking the fire that simmered between the both of you. Gwayne greedily lapped at your sweet skin, like a thick honey upon his tongue. “It is just you and I, sweetling. Might you indulge me?” He hummed, desperate to have you now that desire had taken hold.

Gods, you wanted him terribly.

It was a fascinating twist, with Gwayne wanting to have you here, given the publicity of the locale. He was often a man to take you to your chambers in the name of chivalry, but this daring, yearning side to him — you quite enjoyed it, his change of heart.

“Gods, I love you.” You sighed, feeling him relocate the both of you towards one of the thick, stone columns that held the gazebo aloft. It was rough against your back, but you cared little for it, hastily unlacing the bodice of your dress. The silken smallclothes you wore beneath would suffice.

A low, stifled groan escaped Gwayne’s mouth, cerulean hues sharp and amatory, roving over you with a thinly-veiled desire. “Seven Hells, you drive me to the brink of madness, wife.” He murmured, swiftly relieving you of that mound of azure velvet.

The simple slip you wore beneath clung to your curves, accentuating your physique in pale shades of ivory, nipples peeking through the thin material. His hand slithered beneath, seeking to find the slick heat of your cunt, pushing your legs apart with his thigh.

Gathering your slip within your hands, you tugged the material up, until it pooled around the swell of your hips, giving him unhindered access. Gwayne careened forward, mouth colliding with yours, lips desperately craving every fiber of your being.

His other hand moved to cup your breast through your gown, thumb languidly swiping over your pebbled nipple, teasing the bud as he rolled it between his fingers. A sharp, noisy gasp escaped you, followed by the unrestrained sound of a moan.

Your hands clamored to perch atop his shoulders, sinking down into the velvet, longing to see him naked. If you closed your eyes, it was easy to imagine, but you desired the real thing. With haste, your digits slipped toward the line of golden clasps along the front, aiming to get it unbuttoned.

“You minx.” Gwayne panted into your mouth, digits beginning to stroke along your slit. Much to his delight, you were already warmed, wet and honey-thick upon his fingers. Lips twined in hot clashes, and he never allowed it to devolve into something sloppy. Each kiss possessed meaning, a fervent love for you.

As you unclasped his doublet, he moved his arms enough to relinquish the stuffy weight of the fabric, musculature lean and taut, his skin pale and glittering in the gentle twilight. It let you squeeze his shoulders, tracing over the freckles there, reveling in his bare flesh.

Gwayne released a few breathy ‘I love you’s’ into your lips, before he relocated to the sensitive column of your throat. He spoke with reverence, as if he had come to worship his goddess, lay himself down at your feet. Your fingers wove themselves against the nape of his neck, tugging on his copper locks.

Practiced, dexterous digits continued to caress along your cunt, before pushing past your folds. He grazed your clit, sending a rush of goosebumps cascading down the length of your spine. “Gwayne,” You moaned, the sweetest melody to his ears as you rocked forward, desperate for any shred of friction. “Please!”

His cock twitched again within his breeches, aching with something powerful, needing to be inside of you. Patience was his virtue and his agony — he still wanted to taste your first. He continued to knead into your breast, evoking another blissful whine from you.

Despite wearing his honor and chivalry like a coat of armor, he cared little for the consequences of potentially being caught. He would ravish his beloved wife here in these gardens — there was no sin in such an act. Kissing along your jugular, he felt you grip and pull on his hair, filling him with an excitable fire.

“Gods, I must taste you,” Gwayne groaned, voice tinged with an alluring husk, palm continuing to caress the plush swell of your breast. The thin, silken strap of your slip began to sag, and he did not fix it, exposed to the unblemished plane of your collarbone. “If you will permit me to do so.”

“You needn’t ask, husband,” A wanton whimper left you when Gwayne’s digits abandoned your cunt, though it would soon be replaced with the fine heat of his greedy tongue. Through a lovesick gaze, you observed in rapturous silence as Gwayne sank to his knees, as if he were preparing to pray. “I belong to you.”

Watching his auburn crown move towards the apex of your thighs was a most tantalizing sight, causing your breath to hitch within your throat. Molten heat surged within your belly, churning with a violent anticipation as you braced one hand atop his shoulder.

A sight to die for, to kill for — Gwayne would’ve fought a thousand battles if it meant that you were the reward at the very end, a resplendent maiden in all of your glory. He would’ve endured torture unimaginable for you, razed down armies, destroyed cities all for you.

The first lap of his tongue caused your knees to buckle, raking hot embers across your cunt. He wedged his way in between your legs, shoulders keeping you apart just enough. Gwayne was quite candid about his enjoyment of tasting you — thoroughly cunt-struck.

A groan stirred within his chest as your fingers grazed through his copper tresses, finding their purchase near the base of his skull. He did not relent, tongue carefully splitting past your folds, greeted by the saccharine onslaught of your arousal.

“Gwayne.” A breathy sigh tore past your parted lips, lulled into subservience from the steady, exploratory laps of his tongue. He was sluggish, allowing the anticipation to mount, nose brushing along your mound.

Your taste was ambrosial, thick and heady, like a haze that he had no desire to escape from. There were many moments where he’d dreamed of this, on the march to Rook’s Rest, sprawled across his cot, fantasizing of you again and again.

He quite enjoyed the way in which you sighed his name, passion bubbling forth from your chest, head rolled back against the stone column. Careworn palms reached for your haunches, delighted to take their fill of you, caressing along the backs of your thighs.

“Exquisite,” Gwayne exhaled, catching his breath to press a string of kisses all along the inside of your thighs. “By the Seven, you taste divine.” He groaned, drunk and dizzy from your cunt. A soft moan escaped you as you coaxed him back, and he willingly obliged.

With another hot, eager lap of his tongue over your core, your knees rattled like leaves in the breeze, feeling his shoulders bully their way between your legs. A brusque, warm breeze fluttered throughout the gazebo, bathed in the waning light of the sunset. Stars began to glisten overhead, unhindered by the clouds.

Gwayne’s eagerness was palpable, able to be felt as he buried his face into your cunt, cerulean eyes fluttering shut in an expression of bliss. A groan stirred within his throat, fluttering throughout his chest as you fisted his auburn tresses, soft beneath your palms.

You could not get enough of him, keeping your hands on him in whatever way you could, chest heaving with wanton sighs. Carnality and desire permeated the air, the atmosphere thick with desperation. You always treated each moment as if it would be your last.

His mouth fervently worked against your slick cunt, sending pleasant shockwaves into the pit of your stomach. Goosebumps danced along your spine, followed by a shiver that made you moan. Your hips rolled forward, shamelessly grinding yourself into your husband’s waiting lips.

With a flick of his tongue, Gwayne sought the pearl of your cunt, lips eagerly kissing their way to your clit. He planted feather-light kisses around that sensitive clutch of nerves, causing you to tremble, digits tightening within his hair. Your grip was ironclad, but it was pleasurable for him, knowing you were enjoying yourself.

“Gods, Gwayne,” You whined, listening to the lewd noises of your chivalrous paramour suckling on your clit. Another onslaught of molten heat swirled within your stomach, seeping into your bones, manifesting as arousal between your thighs. “Do — Do not stop!” The urgency in your voice had increased exponentially.

If there were any evening stragglers in the Royal Gardens, you prayed to the Seven that they would not stumble upon the both of you.

The sight itself was inherently sinful, with you haplessly pressed against the stone column, gallant dress strewn across the ground, slip sagging along your physique. Gwayne’s emerald doublet had joined your garments below. You reveled in the sight of his head between your thighs, causing you to whimper.

Gwayne could detect when you were accelerating towards your release, able to feel the twitches and tremors in your thighs. He soothingly stroked along your silky flesh, interchanging between the greedy suckling of your clit, to long, broad strokes of his tongue.

His lips glistened with a sticky sheen of your nectar, of a finer stout than many, more delectable than any wine that had befallen his mouth. Gwayne worshiped you, kissed the ground you walked upon, and he did not feel an ounce of shame in it.

His cock throbbed with a desperate ache, precum slick around the head as it strained against his trousers. Your own satisfaction spurred him on, and your delightful noises only sent him spiraling into the depths of depravity. You hadn’t a clue of the things you did to him.

In a brazen maneuver, his tongue prodded against your entrance, gingerly thrusting inside of you. You gasped, biting at the inside of your cheek, digits raking through his auburn locks. You let your grip loosen, hips careening forward into his mouth again.

Gwayne ravished you, with the ravenous appetite of a starving dog. He moved back just enough to lap at your cunt, making a blazing trail from your entrance to your clit. “I’m close,” You huffed, issuing some warning to him before the dam had burst altogether. “Gwayne!”

It was the only word you knew in the present, his name — it rolled from your tongue in a delighted cry, laced with ardor and reverence. You reached your peak, shamelessly spilling yourself upon his tongue, and he was enamored with you.

With careful, sluggish strokes of his tongue, he delicately cleaned the mess he made of you, allowing you to bring yourself down from your peak. Even if the intensity had made you burn at a fever pitch, you were far from finished, tugging on Gwayne’s tresses to get his attention.

“Take me, husband,” It wasn’t a request — it was a demand, a command made upon a yearning wife. Desire glistened like a thick sheen within his cerulean eyes, which happened to widen at the sight of you. “Please.” You didn’t have to beg — Gwayne wanted you just as terribly.

He swiftly rose from between your legs, pupils dilated with lust as he steered you toward the stone bannister of the overlook, wide enough to support you. You sat down, hastily fumbling with the leather ties of his trousers. Gwayne parted your legs again, bending over you as he sought your mouth.

The taste of arousal — yours — fell heavy upon your tongue, lips clashing together as you desperately sought to free his cock from its confines. “I need you,” Gwayne husked against your mouth, pearlescent teeth briefly snagging on your lower lip. “Gods, how I’ve missed this, missed you.”

“Gwayne,” A moan escaped you, intermingling with his husky pants and sonorous groans. His forehead nudged against yours, lips hot and needy, and you were more than happy to reciprocate. “I need you, I …” Your voice tapered off when his cock slid against your folds.

He kept you steady, hands caging you against the bannister, the stone biting into your back as he kept you at an angle. Silk gathered around your hips, friction wafting between the both of you as he thrust forward, cock sinking into you.

Hitching a leg around his waist as best as you could, your hands roamed to his chest, nails digging into his collarbone as he began to find an erratic pace. He was loving and passionate, even still, but there was something inherently quick about his rhythm.

Perspiration glittered along his brow from the warm evening, yet it did not stop him from pounding away at you. His cock filled you perfectly, providing a delectable stretch that made your toes curl. It wasn’t an intimidating thing, but it was pretty, just like the rest of him.

Through his clenched teeth, Gwayne sang your praises, savoring the way in which your cunt constricted around him, as if drawing him in. “Seven Hells, your cunt is perfection,” Such lewd, crass words sounded so eloquent coming from his lips, as debonair as a Prince. “I cannot get enough of you, sweet wife.” He groaned.

Despite his crudely-spoken compliment, you were lost within the throes of your own pleasure, body rocked into submission by each snap of his hips. His cock bottomed out within you, movements swift yet punctuated, as if every thrust possessed meaning.

You loved Gwayne unconditionally — perhaps too much, if such a thing were possible. Your chest heaved with sweet, passionate sighs and gentle moans, forehead occasionally brushing against his. His hands kept themselves firm along your waist, curling into the silk of your slip.

His cock battered away at your slick cunt, aided by your mounting arousal. Everything felt so feverishly warm, as if you had been set ablaze, nerves feeling like they were steeped in fire. “More,” You moaned, and it effectively caught Gwayne’s attention. “Gwayne, please.” He was weak to your soft pleas.

Your beloved husband lacked harshness when it came to intimacy, something you adored about him. Even when his thrusts became desperate and erratic, chasing after his release, he never resorted to using you. His lips sought the column of your throat, nose brushing along your jugular.

A string of kisses peppered themselves against your sweet flesh, with the occasional suckling of his lips to your neck. A myriad of throaty whines and whimpers continued to leave you in droves, cunt pathetically clenching around him.

Buckling forward, Gwayne planted one palm against the stone bannister, the other caging in around you as he continued to pound away into your needy cunt. He kissed you wherever he could, dwindling into desperation and the innate desire to taste your sweet flesh.

His lips parted slightly, a strained grunt escaping him as he thrust forward again, until there was nowhere left for him to go. Gwayne pulled back just enough, the head of his cock still inside of you before he moved forward again. The friction made you shiver, fingers grasping at the nape of his neck.

His name continued to slip from your mouth, over and over again, like a whispered prayer. Your nails left behind red crescents upon his skin, sharp brands of your lovemaking. Gwayne groaned against your throat, desiring to kiss you once more, lips laying claim to yours with a fervor.

With another snap of his hips, Gwayne shuddered, nearly collapsing into you as he reached his peak. Hot ropes of seed brazenly spilled inside of you, warming your insides as he attempted to catch his breath. You pressed your forehead to his, breathing with him, allowing your hands to slack.

Gwayne politely removed himself from you, mindful of your garments as he fixed your gown back into place. The slip itself was disheveled, but he ensured its tidiness before you got dressed again.

“How divine you are,” Gwayne hummed, planting gentle kisses along the side of your face before it ended at the curve of your jaw. “Beautiful beyond comprehension.” He murmured, using two digits to delicately place the strap of your slip back upon your shoulder.

“You flatter me, husband,” Your smile was warm and amiable, the brightness of springtime, bringing a rosy flush to his features. “I quite enjoyed your brazen streak.” Through a smitten confession, Gwayne kissed your brow, lips twitching into a debonair smirk.

“I am not ashamed of ravishing my wife, be it in our chambers or in the garden,” He replied, reaching for his velveteen doublet and your azure dress. It was easy for him to slip back into the stuffy material, and he was more than happy to assist you. “I cannot get enough of you.”

His words were tantalizing, as if intended to bring about another string of salacious thoughts. Gwayne stood behind you as you stepped back into your dress, helping to lace your bodice up again. He planted a kiss along your exposed shoulder, and then to the crook of your neck.

You reached for his hand, letting it drape across your shoulder as you pressed a delicate kiss against his bruised knuckles. “You shall have me, Gwayne — for as long as you desire me.” You sighed, feeling his nose brush along your cheek, the warmth of his body pressing in behind you.

With a kiss to your temple, one oozing with such fondness and ardor that you feared you might melt, Gwayne’s lips hovered near the shell of your ear. In the twinkling dusk, he held you close. “Forever, then.”

[landossnorriss]

i see you - pt.2 | ln x she.

Pairing: lando x she. Summary: lando and his lady make it through media day in spa. series links. Word Count: 1.4ishk Warning: some angst, some hurt, some healing, just the love and support i hope lando is getting tbh.

there were very few times that she was free to attend back to back races with lando. it was more often than not she tried to line up her time off so they could spend his breaks together but following hungary a few well placed phone calls had switched things around. anything that needed to be done critically was done so over zoom and the rest was simply put on pause.

she knew that lando felt bad about it, but the sure sign that he needed her was the way he had simply accepted her moving everything around without much of a fight. she had tried it before, after austria and a few other races and insisted that he would be fine on his own. when it had come down to it this week though and he tried to find the words to send her on her way and actually let her go and do her own thing the words he knew he should stay had stuck in his throat and instead he had found himself infinitely grateful to have her in his life.

things had been okay, bearable at least, whilst they had been in france with p and max. with his love around he hadn't needed to be on his phone too much and the noise had been easy to block out but when it had come to wednesday night and he had finally braved the storm his stomach had been left rolling.

the team orders that he had managed to silence were suddenly back and in full swing, the calls with andrea ever since the face had been loud and clear in his mind. he had been in calls for hours at this point, as they covered what he would and wouldn't say and in each of them lando had found himself wishing zak was around, someone in his corner but the message had been understood - you race for mclaren or you don't race at all.

lando had looked at her then, and that was when she had known she made the right call as he ended his meeting and she wrapped herself around him as tightly as she could. would she be able to kiss away the self doubt she could see creeping into the back of his mind? did they really think he had such a little shot at winning the wdc that they wouldn't give him that extra push to help him get there?

the real guilt had hit lando when he'd checked the news around oscars win and the headlines had painted him a villan. that much she knew he could have stomached on a normal day had it not been a dark cloud of sweet oscars first win. she'd reassured him as they laid in their bed trying to sleep before press day that it was going to be okay, that oscar understood but each time he managed to pull apart the differences in their wins. the atmosphere, the celebrations, the team spirit, each pieces he managed to pick at another blow to the carefully crafted shell he wore for the rest of the world.

as media day rolled around and the boarded their flight she stuck close to him, her fingers linked with his constantly as she questioned just how well he was going to wear that persona today. how much damage would each story he was forced to tell today do to him?

lando for the most part did what he needed to do, he wore the team name with a smile she knew didn't reach his eyes but the rest of the world would find beautiful anyway. "how are you holding up?" the question was loaded as she wrapped herself around him in a tight embrace, offering a beaming smile at the kiss he pressed to her nose, the driver determined to do everything he could to recharge in the small break he got for the day.

lando knew they were all waiting to tare him apart, he could see the doubt in each reporter's face when he had given his well rehearsed answers. but the guilt of clouding oscars win was genuine and he would do everything he could to back pedal that part at least. the team... well he didn't know how he felt about the team right now. "i'm tired, but eternally grateful that you're here you know?" he sighed as he lent on her with more of his body weight than he likely should be everything else was just so heavy he needed a minute to just, lean on her.

"want me to go into the next round of interviews? give me that cap and let me at em?"

lando could only raise a brow at her offer because he had been swiping her phone off her for the past two days to stop her from reaching out to post any of her thoughts and feelings on the weekend that had just gone. "no love, i think we're safer if you stick to being the best girl a guy could ask for." would he have been able to get through this weekend? he really wasn't sure. "is it mad i almost wish i could just say i didn't want to race this weekend?" he asked quietly, his thoughts just for her as his hands moved up and down her back a little.

she couldn't help the way her frown formed at the thought, she wasn't sure she had never known lando not want to race. ever. "don't let them win lando." not stella, not the media, not anyone that was doubting him at this point could undo what they were doing to him. how could they not see that? "you're p2 lan, you did that, not your team no one gifted you a damn fucking thing, you'd be much closer to p1 if you had a team that worked with you and this weekend was shitty but it doesn't define who you are as a racer ok?" that much she would not budge on.

letting his face soften lando nodded as he buried his head in her neck for a moment, taking in everything about her that kept him grounded. he truly didn't know what he would do without her here this weekend, press day was bad enough without the thought of having to do it all alone and the results this weekend. god if he won it was going to cause more harm for the team, more shit for osc, if he lost it was only going to validate everything that people had been saying to him about miami. "you're right i just...tell me you see me?" so much of this week already felt so perfectly crafted he needed to know, there was one person that still saw everything.

she felt her heart break all over again at the request and whilst it had been a long standing mission to make this man feel so loved, the desire to do so only increased as her eyes locked onto his ocean green ones. "lando norris, i see you, i adore every single part of you and i will protect you with every part of me do you understand, not a single thing that happens this weekend defines anything about you if it's outside of your control. do you see you too my love?" pressing to her toes she let her lips capture his softly, her nose scrunching at him slightly with a face that usually set him off into giggles.

today the slight chuckle he could muster for her was enough. "i'm working on it." seeing himself the way she did, was the hardest part of it all. "just a few more bits and we're out of here love." all he wanted was more time to sleep and wrap himself in her.

"i'm going to head to the hotel, get us pizza, get notting hill set up, text me when you're ten minutes away and i'll meet you in the shower?" she offered lightly as he reluctantly pulled away from her. "i'm going to kiss every single inch of you i love." and she'd do it on repeat all night till he believed her too.

giving a low groan lando nodded, the description of their evening his very definition of perfection when he was feeling like this. "i still do know what i did to deserve you, i shouldn't be too much longer and we'll all be being driven back." he nodded as he straightened himself out, making sure his hat was back in place as he looked out to where people were milling. "wish me luck baby?" he hesitated, fingers drumming on the door as he lingered to keep sight of her.

"you don't need luck baby, you're lando fucking norris."

*pics from landoupdates <3

[shomixremix]

Dates they like ♡︎

okay so i just found out that in version 4.5 there will be an itto AND a neuvillette banner (christmas came early) so i will gt a chance to pull for neuvi and even though i already have c2 arataki, c3 can't hurt hehe

I'M SO EXCITED!! i immediatelly had to write something for the both of them!!

i'd love to hear some of your ideas so feel free to request!!

tags: Itto, Neuvillette, Thoma, Wriotheslay, female! reader, fluff, kissing, smut, overstimulation, riding, pussyeating

-> your boyfriend would love to spend time with you anywhere and doing anything, yet he does have his preferences on how to spend that time. all dates with you are always amazing, but there's always that one activity he likes the most.

reqs open ♡︎ | minors DNI

-> itto

"itto! stop moving so much, you'll smudge them!" you exclaim as you paint the oni's nails. he stills immediately, watching as you paint his left thumb a beautiful, crimson color.

"sorry, love bug! i just wanted a kiss, sweets, you look so freakin' good and i need to let my baby know she's fuckin' gorgeous!" he exclaims through a roar, throwing his arms around you. you screech at him:

"ITTO! your nails!"

his eyes turn wide as he pulls his hands back quickly, giving you an apologetic smile.

"oh, shit, sorry baby! i'll be good, i swear, i'll stay still and quiet, i promise. oni's honor and word!"

you smile as your boyfriend really does keep his word and stills, allowing you to paint more efficiently.

"there, all done! want the gold sparkly top coat, hon?"

"uhh, duh! 'f course i do, baby! gotta be nice and shiny, like you, yeah?"

painting nails in the comfort of your home in inazuma city was always one of itto's favorite dates. with snacks prepared, you two would spend hours in each other's arms with you just painting his sharp claws. then, you'd let him paint yours - even though you would always have to fix them later. sometimes, when he would ask, you'd paint his horns, which you were pretty sure he only asked you to do so you'd sit on his lap.

"there! all done, babe! you like them, arataki?" you smile as he pulls you into his arms, twirling you around in the air like you were weightless.

"hell yeah, love bug! i love 'em! and i love you too, sweets! thanks for doing this f' me. now c'mere so i can kiss those pretty lips"

♡︎

one of his favorite parts of having freshly done nails, on both you and him, was how good they looked sliding against bare skin.

"mmm.. yeah, yeah! that's good, s' fuckin' good, yeah? yeahhh, you just keep on scratching your pretty little nails down my back, yeah, baby? shit, sweets... just like that, fuck!" he groaned into your skin as he fucked you into your matress. your arms roamed his big back and shoulders, gently caressing him with your newly painted nails. you left scratch marks, clawing at his skin with every hard thrust he pumped in you.

his own newly-painted claws slid down to the fat of your ass, greedily kneeding and squeezing everywhere. the sounds echoing of the walls of your bedroom are lewd yet make your mind spin.

"ohhhh, itto! itto, baby, feels so freakin' good! mhphh!" you moan as he fucks you like there's no tomorrow, his fat cock bullying that one spot inside you that made you see stars. your hands run to his hair, pleasantly scratching his skull with your messily-painted matching red nails. he groans at this, his hips stuttering as his pumps get sloppier.

"mmhh, fuck!" he mutters as he suddenly loses his composure and messily comes, fucking you through it with desparate little thrusts. he falls on you in exhaustion, enjoying how you still soothe him with your hands.

"mphhr, love bug.." he melts under your touches, still overly sensitive from his orgasm. you coo praises in his ear as you continue comforting him, his hands soothing your bare skin in return.

archons, he loves those nails.

-> neuvillette

"am i... doing this correctly?" he asks unsurely, gently gathering your hair in his palms and twisting it around.

"heh, no, love. you need to separate three strands and than braid" you say gently, sitting with your legs crossed just a little in front of him. neuvillette hesitates for a moment, still just gently petting your head.

"could you show me again, mon amour?"

you knew damn well that was just an excuse for you to play with his long, silver hair as you braid it. you still did it, of course, never the one to deny your boyfriend pets and cuddles. you knew that playing with his hair has always been one of his favorite past-time activities.

his long hair flowed against your fingertips like a river, strong and yet beautiful. you tangled your hands in it, massaging his skull a little. finally, you separate it in three thick strands and start gently braiding.

"mmm" he hummed, immensily enjoying your touches, "i must admit this hairstyle looks quite nice, mon cherie. you will have to do my hair everyday for court trails"

you chuckle, finishing his braid and tying it with a blue ribbon.

"sure, neuvi, if that's what you'd like"

you turn to face him, sitting in front of him.

"would you like to try now?"

he smiles, placing a feathery kiss on your neck as he removed your hair from it.

"sure"

♡︎

there were multiple reasons why neuvillete loved when you would play with or braid his long hair and when he would play with yours, and one of them was that he could pull on it during your love making.

"mhhhphhr.." you mewl as he's got you on all fours, pounding into you from the back and keeping a tight grip on your hair, which was braided messily by his inexperienced hands.

"mh, fuck, little one, you feel incredible.."

he'd hold onto your hair tight, thrusting hard and slow inside so you'd feel every inch of him. sometimes he'd pull you back by your hair, like a leash, you thought, but only when you move and squirm too much. then, once he pulls on it just enough to get you to arch your back and never too much to hurt you, he'd bottom out inside you and let out a pleasured sigh.

he really loved your hair.

but he also really loved you pulling on his.

when he was in between your plushy thighs, face buried in your folds and pleasuring you endlessly, you'd tangle your fingers in his soft hair and try to pull him closer but push him away in the same time from how good it felt.

"ahh! neuvi! ohhh, neuvi~!"

and when you'd finally finish with an ego-rising scream of his name, allowing him to taste all of your sweetness and squeeze him real tight, that's when neuvillette felt the greatest.

-> thoma

"welcome home, babe!" your boyfriend chirped as you entered your shared home, surprised to see a fully made dinner on the table.

"oh, hey, hon! what's all this?" you ask, setting down your bag and removing your shoes as you walk to him.

"nothing, i just thought to surprise you with a few of your favorite dishes! i finished all of my work early in the kamisato estate, so i thought i could do something nice for you!"

you throw your arms around the blonde's neck, kissing his cheek.

"aww, thoma, sweetie, you didn't have to!" he laughs and rubs his neck humbly as you praise him, big green eyes watching you take in the table filled with many delicious meals - including his famous rice cake soup.

"mmmm... this all looks and smells amazing! i can't wait to try it all!"

he smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"well you know food is my love language!"

it was true - more than anything, thoma liked showing you how much he cared for you through delicious meals he'd prepare for the both of you, when you could just eat and chatter the night away.

♡︎

even though he loved preparing you dinners to eat, he loved having you for desert even more. good lord barbados, you were the single most delicious thing he ever tasted...

"mmmphhh..." he moaned into your needy pussy as he ate you out like a man starved, physically unable to move. thoma was truly a pussydrunk man, addicted to the taste of your slick on his tongue.

you were spread out on your dining table with your legs far apart, with your boyfriend nestled between your slick-covered thighs that were now also covered in love-bites. your slick stuck to his chin as he ate you out, but did he care at all? no. no, he did not.

the taste of your folds in his mouth was far more important.

you couldn't imagine how much pleasure this was giving him - he could've came just by giving you oral, letting his dick make a sloppy mess of his pants even though untouched. impossibly hard and leaking precum like crazy, thoma tried releasing some of that tention by rubbing himself through his pants, whimpers and whines being sent from his mouth straight to your pretty cunt.

he sucked and sucked and kissed like you were his last meal, never wanting this to end and for you two to go to bed. actually, he did want to go to bed - but only because you'd be able to ride his face there.

and when the boiling hot knot inside you finally becomes too much and it snaps, thoma can't hold it in much longer. he greedily laps up all you give him like a dog in heat, overstimulating you as his tongue fucks way after you've already came down from your high. at the feeling of your cum in his mouth thoma comes as well, shooting rope after rope of white in his own pants, a little ashamed of the fact. his hips rut into the air as if he's trying to help himself through it or at least to stop - but he can't, he can't stop coming, not when you taste that good.

-> wriotheslay

"the weather is so nice today..." he hummed as he held your hand, lazily lounging on the checkered blanket.

as the duke of the fortress of meropide, wriotheslay rarely gets to go out and experience the warmth of the sun or the falling of the rain. which is exactly why outdoor dates were always his favorite - doing anything with you, his favorite person, while feeling the fresh air and the gentle breeze was his idea of best-spent time.

"sure is" you laugh, dressed only in your swimsuit as you lounge with your lover on a secret, deserted beach in the beryl region. it was always so private and quiet here, perfect for a couple desperately in need of intimacy...

"wrio, honey..."

"hm?"

"we should really do this more often... i missed having you like this..." you mumble in his skin as you lounge on his bare chest, pressing lazy kisses up his jaw and neck.

wriotheslay snickers, caressing your back with the tips of his fingers.

"i agree, doll. trust me, if i could, i'd never leave here, yeah? just you and me, forever..."

you sigh, reminded again how busy the both of you were. your boyfriend notices, getting up with you in his arms.

"wanna swim now, baby?"

♡︎

but when you return from the water, wet and your bodies pressed tight against each other, wriotheslay can't help but not sit you on his lap on your warmed blanket, sinking himself inside you inch by inch. once he bottoms out he lays back, one hand behind his head and the other holding your hip.

"you know what to do, doll"

you nod eagerly, your palms on his chest for support as you start to sink down on him hard and fast, trying to fuck yourself on his cock.

"there you go... ahh, fuck, baby..." he moans at how you take him and your chest swells in pride.

you whimper and mewl at how good he feels as his hands soothe your sides, comforting you from the slight stretch of his fat cock in your tight pussy.

"can't... wrio... too much..!" you complain with quivering lips, yet he doesn't make any effort to stop, bouncing you on his lap.

"shhh.... i know you can, doll, you've had me inside so many times, and it always fits. try a little harder, baby"

you give it your all to thrust back on his cock but nothing helps until he rolls his hips into yours, finally helping you. soon it all becomes far too much and you cry out, falling on his chest as you tighten and spasm around him while you come. wriotheslay quickly follows, filling you up untill you're shaking from the overstimulation in his arms.

something about outdoor dates, especially outdoor sex, drove him wild.

[1-800-cr33py]

Sedatives CHPT.2

A/N: Here bc crossposting my beloved

Blaring alarm and sunlight slipping through your blinds awoke you from what you’d considered a good sleep. Friday, the day you’d longed for for months it seemed, not because there’d be shitty slashers on a seemingly endless marathon due to it being the month of October, though that was a plus; but no, it was finally your day off. A day all to yourself and a night to hand out candy to doe-eyed children in differing costumes. Groggily sliding out of bed was a task, though your feet planting themselves onto your cold floor was more than a wake-up call. Your quarters were homey, and cozy. More than enough space for you and your cat, Cilantro. Speaking of the greedy feline, who mewed her greetings as she weaved between your legs as you made your way to the bathroom.

“You can wait Lantro, not like you’re gonna starve any time soon. “You yawned, stretching your arms as your back cracked. The cat, however, didn’t seem to agree with your sentiments in the slightest as she mewed louder, seemingly in response to you. You closed the door in the thing’s face in return. Your morning was everything but eventful, though watching your neighbor’s children chase each other around their yard with dollar store skeletons and spiders, which left a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, sipping on your morning brew with a content glaze within your eyes. Though boredom was beginning to seep through that feeling. Your laundry had been put on, dishes had been washed and put away, and just overall tidying had all been done within the span of a few hours. What now? You hadn’t planned this far ahead, not like medical school and internships gave you time to establish any friendships, and a relationship was the last thing on your mind. Besides, the scum that you worked aside left such a stain on your mind when it came to potential partners. Nurses, smoking and degrading the patients within the yellowing walls gave you looks of contempt and the doctor’s hands planted themselves onto your skin for a good many moments too long. Yeah…so no relationship prospects in sight for you. Catnapping and folding laundry made up most of your day, finding the hours slip through your fingers like fine sand. The dulling sky held many stars, blinking into the blanket of dusty oranges and desaturated blues. You, still donning a simple jumper and pajama pants you're sure you’d stolen from some childhood friend you’d long forgotten in your adult life, pity. Trekking towards the door, donning a thick knitted blanket and Cilantro in tow, you made your way to your rocking chair, an antique thing that could use a paint job, but you didn’t mind. Propping yourself upon the old chair, the wood creaking beneath you, sighed, watching your breath cling to the air. Though despite your day of relaxation, you still carried a weight on your shoulders. “Fucking hell…” you groaned, head thrown back with a displeased expression.

Night lurked within your walls, a heavy silence bearing over your domain as you tossed and turned, comfort fleeting from you, and time ticked by one second at a time. Poor sight you were, desperate for sleep to claim you, for relief to wash over you in a cool wave. You, sweaty and annoyed, threw your comforter away, allowing the cool air of your tiny room to chill your skin, a shitty fan doing little to aid. Thoughts floating back to your job, the patients, the assholes who worked your nerves to no end…Michael. Your breath hitched as you began to think the patient over. How the veins in his hands flexed as he steadily layered paper and glued to form a face. How his eyes followed doctors and nurses, in a way you could only be akin to a predator stalking its prey. Intense. Calculating. Your fingers buried themselves in your soaked hole, your moans echoing off the walls as you brought yourself to the edge. Your back arched as your vision whitened, whimpers rolling out of your throat, riding out your height. It was easy to imagine it was Michael bringing you past this edge; how easy it was to imagine it was his rough fingers dragging down your body, toying with your clit. Attempting to steady your shaking breaths and legs was no easy feat. You stared at the ceiling, sweat clinging to your body as the thoughts of Michael dissipated, the reality of just how taboo this was finally setting in. He was your patient not your patient, but still! A sigh escaped your lips as you rolled onto your side with a wince, your muscles aching as you attempted to find some escape from your sleep.

October 29

Your uniform felt tight, almost suffocating as you placed the small plastic cups of pills in front of patients. You felt pity for them, abandoned and left to rot within the confines of the state, drugged up to a compliant lucid state. Their blank, watery eyes left you feeling hollow every time you turned your back on them after administrating their daily medication alongside the mush the penitentiary called food. It was fucking sick how they treated these mentally unwell people that needed help above all else.

But today, today was different.

Today you felt watched, more than usual. One could akin this to the feelings prey has before the predator strikes, but who was your predator? You shook your head, instinctively wiping your hands upon your dark scrubs, a nervous smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you approached the behemoth of a man that you’ve affectionately dubbed your ‘favorite patient’.

Michael Myers was quiet, always. His face was always covered with a mask, if not the mop of messy blondish hair. Despite his silence, you found it rather easy to read him, perhaps it was due to the fair amount of time you’d spent tailing after Dr. Loomis, half-heartedly acknowledging his rambles about Michael that you didn’t believe. It was odd, you, a mere 2 years younger than he was, and two completely different people. Sometimes, between shifts or hiding with the smokers out back, you’d think about what life for Michael would’ve been like if life had been kinder, softer. A childhood filled with joy, love, and comfort is what every child deserves in your mind. You don’t think Michael was born a monster, but one born of circumstance. Squeaky cartwheels echo throughout this part of the rec room. Patients and staff alike avoided the very space Michael inhabited, for fear of becoming victims of the Boogeyman of Haddonfield. You, however, were either stupid or brave, and right now you didn’t quite know which one was worse. Michael sat slump, his head hanging low, though you could see his neck jerk in your direction as you approached. “Morning, Michael! “You chirped, gently sliding the plastic cup of assorted medicine to the man. He was quiet, eyes flicking to you for just a moment before slowly reaching for his dailies. You faced the wall as he downed them. You began to wonder what his face looked like; you’d seen his face in files. When he was a boy, his cheeks were rosy, and round, and his eyes still clung to some semblance of childhood innocence. You tried to picture him grown. Perhaps his face was made of nothing of right angles, maybe he looked like his mother? Questions ran through your head as Michael placed the cup down. It made you want to gag knowing he always downed his dailies without water, and it wasn’t for a lack of trying. Water was readily available. Ever the gentle creature you were, Michael watched as you sat across from him, folding your hands in your lap. You tried not to stare, honestly you didn’t, but there was something about him that made you just want to...stare. His hands were large and calloused from the years of nimble working of paper machete masks that donned his cell walls. It was the same hands that killed his sister at the age of 10. The same hands you’d fantasied about the night before.

He remained stoic, eyes finally meeting your face. It felt as if he was searching for something, a hint of malice or pity. He’d find none within your feature, nothing more than a genuine want to know something about him. Michael found you pretty enough, kinder than the nurses and doctors and specialists that buzzed around him like an annoying fly, poking and prodding with annoying tests and needles and a constantly changing dose of medicine that left him feeling ill. You, however, never buzzed. You may have lingered a tad bit longer than was necessary, but it was never in a pestering way. He’d notice how your hands toyed with the hem of your scrubs. They were always dark in color, but never stark black. Muted maroons and soft navies were your usual attire, something Michael found himself fond of.

You were simple. Not easy but you stuck to a schedule.

Michael liked that about you. He almost found himself longing to touch you, to feel you as you rose and walked away. A heavy metal door slammed behind you. It was decided in his mind then and there that you were his. The Boogeyman of Haddonfield wanted you for himself.

October 30

Smith’s Grove had befallen silent for the night, strangely enough. Everyone seemed tense, on edge as every little creak and crack was greeted with a jump. How odd people acted, you thought, making mental notes on what you needed to do before clocking out. It was already a quarter till 4 PM, and the ending of your shift never made you as happy as it is now. You practically skipped through the halls, ready to finally leave Michael with his usual goodbye before your departure. His cell neared, and the heavy scent of wet paper and Elmer’s glue lingered the closer you got.

You knocked, knuckles brushing against the reinforced doors as you entered the cell. Masks hung from the walls like hunting trophies, and one could only wonder how Michael found the creativity to even create such pretty things within his conditions. You’d hum, continuing to eye the brightly colored masks with your arms folded across your chest. You knew not to touch them; it was basic respect after all. Your constant lingering seemed to pay off though, as you nearly squealed when Michael offered a quiet ‘mmh’ in greeting. Sure, it may not seem like something much, but anyone who worked with the behemoth of a man would tell you, that Michael Myers does NOT do anything except eat, sleep, and make those masks; but with you, it was like he was a different entity all together. He was calmer, in your easy. The weight that he clung to within his shoulders seemed to lessen. You both sat quietly, content in each other's company. It was when your watch chimed that Michael stiffened, breathing heavily through his nose whilst you rose, offering a weak smile as you trekked towards the door, promising you’d see him tomorrow, you promised!

[simplyafountainpen]

Red Looks Good On Us

{𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼}: Demon!M!Reader x Grell Sutcliff

{𝓓𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷}: (Y/n) was particularly rude today, and as much as Grell loved it, it seems like her adorable little girl would need some punishment for that naughty mouth of his~

{𝓣𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓼}: Sub!Top!Reader, Power Bottom!Grell, Demon!Reader, feminization (of reader), punishment, bondage, impact play, Mistress title, praise, Reader wears makeup, Grell's privates referred to as cock and pussy, (y/n) is the "Mourning Dove Demon"

"But belooovvveeddd!!-"

You sighed as you pushed your Master, Alois Trancy, behind you. Today was supposed to be a simple outing with the boy, a little walk through the city and perhaps even through a park to get him out of that stuffy office of his. He had been swamped with work recently, and even if he didn't want to, it had to be done.

For weeks you watched as his patience grow smaller until he'd snap at the slightest inconvenience. It grew annoying, and finally out of control when he decided it would be a great idea to throw an entire piping hot tea set at you and Claude. You quickly ushered him out of the house as the other demon cleaned the mess - also to allow him to calm down and not rip the child to shreds. He still needs the child's soul, after all.

It had been peaceful for a time, until you and the boy ran into a certain red head. You stuffed the boy behind you, ignoring his small noise of questioning, and stared into those chartreuse phosphorescent eyes of hers.

"Grell. I will not be abandoning my duties for you. What ever are you even doing here?" You grumbled. The both of you stared at each other, Grell biting her lips while you could feel the veins budging in your forehead. You had no time for this.

"Well, beloved, I saw you from across the street and I just simply had to say hello to the most scrumptious looking man in my life, right?~" Again, you grumbled.

"Now isn't the time you damned succubus, off with you." You waved her off with a hand, turning back to a less than pleased Alois only to feel her hands on your shoulders, causing you to growl.

"Now now dearest, is that anyway to treat the woman you loovvee?~" You shrugged her hands off, again turning to Alois with a mumble, asking him to go the opposite way as a fly seemed to be buzzing in your ear.

"Oh come now darling, don't walk away!! Let me join you at least!! I'm so very bored and haven't a thing to do for hours!!~" You turned to her.

"What of the paperwork I know for a fact you're putting off right now?" A smirk now laid on your face, and the woman sputtered. Alois chuckled at her face in your grip. Both immediately - but silently - noted that you seemed to puff up in accomplishment.

A fact about you was that you were a being of irony. A demon, yet you were based off a dove. A mourning dove, to be precise. Grell huffed and folded her arms. She leaned closer to your face, noses almost touching.

"Mmm... you're no fun around this brat." Grell mused. Her painted lips were creased into a pout. She stood up strait, looking you in the eye.

"Well then perhaps you should be off then? I certainly wouldn't bat an eye." You leaned even closer, foreheads touching. Both of you continued in silence, until Alois coughed into his elbow. You grunted, backing up quickly and turning back to the boy in question. You sent one more cynical smile her way, accompanied by a wave, and went off with your Master.

Grell stood there for a moment more. She knew you wouldn't truly belittle her or do anything truly physically damaging considering your... relationship, but she still couldn't help but shiver at how dismissive you were. And though she understood why you wouldn't stop to chat - you being under a contract, she couldn't help but feel slightly peeved at how quickly you brushed her off! No long winded insults, no pushing her, no attention, why, you could make a girl feel neglected like this!

She smiled with a dark chuckle. Oh, you'd be paying when you got home that night, she'd make sure of it.~

·:¨༺ ♱✮¨:·ᨐฅ ᨐᵐᵉᵒʷ·:¨✮♱ ༻¨:·˚─── ⋆⋅⛥⋅⋆ ──

You entered the house quietly, a greeting and apology on your lips for how you treated Grell, only to be met by silence and no lights. Immediately you began lighting candles and flicking on lamps to fill the room with light. In doing this, you noted that the lights in the bedroom were on and abandoned your current mission, walking over to the closed door with light pouring from beneath it.

"Grell? Honey? Are you in there?" You knocked gently on the door, pressing an ear to the wood before gently opening it.

"I want to apologize for my... statements... today." Instead of a sleeping or a - hells forbid - working Grell, you found your girlfriend in nothing but her underwear and corset, a satin robe hanging scantily off her shoulders. She looked back at you with a smile, glasses glinting in the light of the many candles lit in the room, speaking of:

The room itself was dimly lit with said candles on holders and on the floor, rose petals delicately strewed throughout the room. On the vanity were a few open makeup boxes, all the makeup being red of course. The bedsheets had been changed to Grell's favorite scarlet ones, and carmine satin ribbons dangled from the headboard and footboard.

The most damning thing, however, was the set of blood red lacey thigh-highs, panties, and bra neatly folded at the foot of the bed.

You didn't notice her stand, but rather heard the door being closed behind you, Grell's fingers making their way around your shoulders, feeling her breath against her neck.

"Oh, so you wish to apologize, is that it?" You felt her lips against your neck, your sensitive skin picking up on the kiss mark left behind. Her hands trailed downward, crossing your chest and fliting over your sensitive nipples, making you suck in a quick breath. Not being able to find your voice, you nodded.

"Well, I think I know of one way you can make it up to me.~" She was by your ear now, lips lightly pressing against it for a moment. You shivered, eyes closing. She giggled.

"You you want to make it up to me, pretty girl?~" You clenched your teeth and turned away, her hands wrapping around your waist and meeting right above your hardened cock. She looked at you for a moment and sighed. Hearing this, you whipped your head around and nodded rapidly, to which she simply walked around you, now facing you with her hands on your ass. One left its perch and took your chin, forcing you to look at her again.

"I want a verbal answer, darling. You're free to say no, you know." Your eyes widened, then you took one of your own hands and placed behind hers, moving both to your cheek and nuzzling into them.

"I do..." Grell immediately smiled, grabbing your face and slamming her lips on yours. She overpowered you easily, tongue invading your mouth with you putting up no resistance. She turned you around and pushed you back onto the bed, forcing you to sit and then sitting in your lap. One of her hands rested on your shoulder, the other making its home around your neck. You whimpered into the kiss and she smiled, breaking it off.

You looked up through tear-laced lashes and she pecked you on the head, getting down on her knees. She began to remove your clothes, starting with your shoes and socks, kissing and nipping up you leg until she made it to your waist. Her fingers made quick work of your belt and the buttons on your pants, you lifting yourself up slightly to make it easier to slip them down your legs. Before you could sit back down, she slipped her finger into the waistline of your drawers, tutting. Wordlessly, she unbuttoned them and drew them down with your pants. You gasped as the cold air of the room hit your now exposed cock, whining. Grell planted a quick kiss to your inner-thigh and continued.

Your waistcoat was removed slowly, the woman above you massaging you shoulders and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Languidly, she removed the rest of your layers, ghosting her painted nails over skin. Tears layered themselves in your eyes and she kissed them away, cooing at your nakedness. Then, she grabbed the laced thigh-highs and unfolded them, taking one and gently unrolling it, she grabbed one of your legs and slowly pushed the fabric up, fixing and smoothing it out, then doing the same for the other. She grabbed you by the waist, forcing you to stand. Grell then grabbed the panties and lightly bit your neck.

"Lift one of those pretty legs for me dearest, would you?" She whispered into your ear. You nodded, lifting you left leg, and she quickly pushed them up, running her hand over your ass and the small of your back while she slipped you through one hole of the panties. You both then did the same on your right side, and she gave you a quick kiss as a reward. You were then sat back down as she ran her hands over your chest, twisting your hardened nipples, causing you to moan.

She continued to play with your chest, making sure your skin was sensitive to the slightest touch. Grell hummed at her work, grabbing the bra and lifting one of your arms, sliding it into place.

"You know," she said as she slipped the other in and clasped the back, "I got the smallest size for you, darling. And look at this! You can't even fill it out!~" The lace brushed against your skin, forcing a few pants and moans from you. Another kiss was pressed to your temple as Grell helped you up, walking you over to the vanity and sitting you down.

"We're not quite done yet my dear, just a couple more touches and you'll be perfect.~ Don't you want to be perfect for me, dearest?~" You nodded rapidly, but Grell clicked her tongue. More tears filled you waterline as you gasped, quickly correcting your mistake.

"Y-yes. I do want to be perfect for you, M-mistress." Grell stared at you as those whispered words left your lips. Taking a strand of hair between her fingers, she twirled it around.

"Mistress hmm? I quite like that..~" She smiled at you and sat back in your lap, turning around and hovering a hand over a small box filled with red lipsticks, all different shades. The reaper choose a slightly lighter shade compared to your current attire, softly applying it to your lips, humming a turn you didn't recognize. Then it was an eyeshadow, mascara, then a blush, the soft brush tickling over your skin.

"Oh look at you!~ Such a pretty girl!~ Why, I don't think I could even tell you were demon if I didn't know better. I might even dare to call you an angel.~" Her hand was under your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. Your hands griped the arms of the chair beneath you, nearly splintering the wood. Your breathing became heavy as Grell leaned closer, lips caressing over yours.

"What do we say?~" She whispered, and you whispered in kind.

"Thank you Mistress."

With wild abandon, she smashed her lips onto yours, hands tangling in your hair and yours flew to her hips. Grells tongue forced its way down your throat, your eyes rolling back from the sensation. She broke the kiss, staring at your fucked out expression.

"Look at how sensitive you are.~ My good little girl." You whined, drool slipping from your lips as you felt her grind down onto your cock. Her hand began to stoke it through the lace panties, making you whine louder. The tip of your cock peaked from the top, pre bubbling from the tip and onto the lace trim.

"Already ruining your panties? Tut tut darling." Grell mused. She grabbed your upper arms and dragged you up, doing all but throwing you onto the bed. She gripped your hair in her hands, resting against the headboard. One of her painted nails ran over your lips, inserting her thumb into your mouth. Her other hand went down to her own panties, rubbing herself through the fabric at the sight of your disheveled form. Her manicured hand pulled her painties down till the rested beneath her balls, revealing her hardened cock, budging and red.

"Open wide, dear.~" Her thumb slipped from your lips, and her cock was rammed down your throat, effectively gagging you.

"MHMP?!?" "Hehe, look at how well your taking me, pretty.~" Grell's hand traced your throat, squeezing it lightly to feel her length poking out.

"Go on then," she pat your head, tangling her hands in your hair, "Show Mistress what this darling throat of yours can do.~"

You groaned, sucking her down and hollowing your cheeks, dragging your tongue up and down the side of her sex. Your lipstick stained the base as you bobbed up and down, breathing through your nose. Grell's hands landed on the sides of your face as you sucked, nails digging and nearly piercing your skin. Without warning she took control, slamming you up and down her cock, the tip touching the back of your throat and your drool slicking up her entire shaft, making it shine.

Grell continued, your lipstick smearing across her girth as the mascara she had applied ran down your face. She then shoved you all the way down, blocking your airflow. To add to it, she gripped one hand around your neck, making the dark spots in your vision grow faster. Your shaky hands gripped her thighs, eyes rolling all the way back as your throat constricted more, spit running down your chin. She held you for a moment longer, your shaking about to cease, moaning at how tight your throat had gotten. Just a second before your fully passed out - which would be a feat - she pulled you off, your head falling onto the sheets. Your tongue lolled out and drool pooled below you, breathing heavy. Grell quickly began stroking, slick noises filling your ears, and thick white ropes covered your face, some getting into your panting mouth. You whined and Grell chuckled breathily, taking some cum onto her fingers and tasting it.

"You make everything sweeter dear. I suppose white is also a good look on you, isn't it, dove?~" You cooed at the nickname, shoving your head into her thigh, which now had your spit on it. You kissed and sucked at her skin, pupils blown out.

"Oh? Is my dove okay?" Her voice had tilt of merriment to it as she lifted you, switching your places so that now you were against the headboard and she was kneeling on the bed. You cooed again, muttering nothings under your breath as you allowed her to wrap you wrists in the silk attacked to the bed. She tied small yet firm knots, tugging to ensure you could still escape if need be. The reaper pat you on the head, giggling when you nuzzled into her touch with hair puffed up.

"Dove, it's time. Are you ready to finally make it up to me?" you gave a mumbled reply. Grell smirked.

She fully slipped of her panties to reveal a already slicked up cunt, glistening with lube, strawberry scented. She positioned herself above you, spitting on your cock and rubbing it in good, she lined up the head with her hole, before giving you a quick peck on the lips.

"Good girl.~"

She slammed herself onto you, both of you letting loud moans from the feeling. Her hands gripped your shoulders, nails finally tearing into your skin, you hissing at the dull pain. She bounced up and down, walls clamping down on you with such force that you began to cry, the tears that had been welling up spilling over your lash line.

"O-oh dove - NGH - so p-pretty!~ Even w-ith your makeup all - UGH - ruined!!~" Grell complemented, her hips meeting yours with squelching noises. You were no longer comprehensible, borderline animalistic with the bird-like chirps and coo's you released. Your hands tugged fruitlessly on their binds, desperately clawing out towards Grell. Her thighs slapped on yours, her chest pressed to you still sensitive one, compelling a high-pitched keen to escape your throat, which only caused Grell to coo at you more.

She stopped bouncing and grinded on your cock, walls sucking you in and squeezing, your noises never ending, flowing freely from you lips. Grell pressed her head into the crook of your neck, kissing the skin softly and sucking hickies harshly onto your jugular, biting at it even.

You mewled and wailed at the attention, makeup nearly completely washed away by sweat, drool, and tears. Your head was rolled back as she continued to grind you into her, eyes showing nothing but the whites and jaw fully relaxed. After a moment of her slowing down, the stillness, she suddenly picked herself up and rammed you all the way back in, tip to hilt, in one quick movement. Grell's bouncing was much more aggressive than before, your arms reached back and grabbed onto the headboard. Your teeth grind together, and with heavy breaths you released the loudest whine yet.

"Are y-you about to cum, dove?" Grell groaned. Your nodded quickly, and she gave you a kiss on your cheek. "T-then cum for m-me dove!! CUM FOR M-ME!!-" You screamed, cumming hard into the warmth of her cunt. You gasped, sobbing, trying to catch your breath as Grell came in kind, cum painting your chest. She leaned against you, breathing hard and smiling. Her hands immediately went to your hair, tracing shapes in your scalp, giving you time to slow your breathing.

"Are you awake, dear?" You mumbled something, nothing of substance though. Grell smiled at you, before pulling you out of her. You huffed, watching your seed leak from her lightly gaping hole.

"Alright alright hold on..." She untied your wrists and rubbed them to sooth the dull ache she knew would be there - no matter how much you would deny it - and smiled at you.

"I'll go get snacks, water, towels, etc., etc. dear. You just wait right here." She booped you on your nose and you snorted. Grell then laid you down on the sheet and slipped on a pair of slippers, walking out of the room to the kitchen, though you couldn't help but watch the trails of white that flowed down her legs.

You snuggled deeper into the fabric of the sheets, beginning to nod off. All you wanted was for her to return and hold you. Eventually she did, holding a tray filled with aforementioned snacks, water, towels and set it down, leaving for a moment to grab new sheets and popping by the vanity to grab a few makeup wipes. She gave you some water before she began to wipe the streaked makeup off your face.

"You did wonderfully dear, I can assure you you've apologized fully." You giggled and she smiled, leaning in so the bridges of your noses were touching.

"I love you, Mistress." Grell chuckled.

"And I love you, Dove."

·:¨༺ ♱✮¨:·ᨐฅ ᨐᵐᵉᵒʷ·:¨✮♱ ༻¨:·˚─── ⋆⋅⛥⋅⋆ ──

"What are those dark spots on your neck, (Y/n)?" You turned to the sound of Alois's voice, sharply keeping your gaze right above the eyes lest you end up like Hannah.

"Whatever do you mean, your Highness?" You asked, and he pointed to a specific part of your jugular, and after you ran a hand over the bruise, your eyes widened.

"It's nothing, your Highness I promise, nothing that should concern you anyway..." Though that only made the blonde pout and start whining childishly.

"Well now I simply must know!! What is it??" You looked over to Claude who only shrugged with the tiniest of smirks on his face, that bastard.

You were going to kill him one day, if you didn't die of embarrassment first, anyway.

{𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓼}: This is a bit longer than the last one. If you could not tell at this point, I adore Black Butler. Thank you for reading.

-🖋️

All publishings on this account belong to @fountain-pen-anon. I do not authorize my fics being altered, translated, stolen or published/reposted to other sites, thank you.

© fountain-pen-anon - all rights reserved

[hillbillyoracle]

How to Create Downtime Menus

As a lot of my posts are, this one was inspired by a conversation with my partner. She seemed to think some of my ideas were helpful so I thought I'd write them up and share them here.

I use a combination of these ideas to do two things - redirect myself when I get stuck doomscrolling/freezing/obsessing and redirect myself when I'm stuck on the "must be good, must be productive" hamster wheel and can't seem to stop doing chores until I'm fucking exhausted or have pushed/hurt myself. Knowing you need to stop is one thing - knowing what to do instead is another.

Not all of these will work for every person at every time. Pick one or two that seem interesting and give them a whirl.

Habit of the Month

This is a small habit I can do in about 5-10 minutes a day. These are sometimes habits that I want to audition for my lineup or just want to focus on as a way of rebooting a given area of my life. Physical habits have been things like stretching, a walk, putting on moisturizer, drinking water, making tea, etc. Emotional habits have been things like stream of consciousness journaling, bullet journaling, recording myself venting, etc. Spiritual habits have been things like meditating, altar work, reading sutras, tarot readings, etc.

If I'm stuck in a loop and I haven't done that task yet, it serves as an easy win that feels moderately meaningful to accomplish. This is easier to do than longer or less interesting tasks.

Side Quests

These are little challenges I'd like to accomplish that are 100% fun and completely optional. They are specific and can me completed within a given time frame - usually a month. They usually aren't the most meaningful to keep them more fun and so I'm not letting myself down if I don't opt to complete it.

They've been things like:

The Minor Expert Challenge - read three books in one subject

The Kanopy Critic Challenge - use up all of my Kanopy credits that month

The Regal Freegal Challenge - download all the albums/songs I can on Freegal that month

The Monthly Playlist Challenge - create a playlist of the month where each song represents something about each day of that month; like a playlist diary

The Reverse Tarot Draw Challenge - pick/list a tarot card you best think represents each day of a given month or other time period; like a tarot card diary

The 100 Words Challenge - learn 100 words in a foreign language

As you can see, I prefer things that are pretty low energy friendly so I can work on them on days I'm super tired. Just little chronic illness things.

Alphabet Lists

I use these for my cleaning routines actually but I also have been trying them with my downtime. The way it works is you list out the alphabet and choose one self care or hobby task you'd like to do for each. They don't have to start with the same letter, it just serves as an easy way to limit how many you pick and keep track of what you've done. It's satisfying to cross off the whole list.

Tasks I put on these are things like

A - paint my nails

B - crochet a charity hat

C - write 5 letters for Letters Against Isolation

D - send a letter to a friend

E - play a solo rpg

F - play a solo board game

G - complete a puzzle

etc

They're fun tasks I'm not currently doing as often as I'd like but chill enough that it doesn't matter when precisely I do them more often. I try to pick tasks that are roughly 30 minutes to an hour long though some definitely take longer. I like to complete these roughly monthly but I try to complete a whole list before I start it again. Anything I just did not feel like doing and kept skipping gets scratched out and I rewrite a new list with new item to replace those. And I start again.

Whenever I'm like ugh I don't know what to do with myself, I try to pick at least one thing on the list and give it a try for 5 minutes. If I don't like it after that I can just put it away and pick something else.

10x10

10x10 lists are a different take on a similar idea. It's a list of 10 things you'd like to do at least 10 times in a given time period. Mine tend to be on the seasonal or annual timescale but maybe you're intense and prefer a monthly one. If I don't complete them in a given time period, I just continue with it until I'm done. Better to complete it on an altered timeline than not at all.

For me these tend to be slightly bigger tasks that take a little more planning or energy. I'm not totally sure why I use them this way since you could definitely use them for smaller tasks but that's just the space they occupy for me.

So examples of what would be on my list would be things like:

Grab a hot chocolate from the coffee shop (x10)

Complete a PokemonGo event (x10)

Have a spa night and watch a movie (x10)

Do something extra nice for my partner (x10)

Try a new game (x10)

Find a geocache (x10)

etc

Filing up a little 10x10 grid is pretty satisfying. Much more so than anxietying myself into my bed for the equivalent amount of time.

Seasonal Bucket Lists

I really enjoy making these though I really struggle with the current season (Spring) given my allergies. There's this idea my partner has told me about in DBT where you try to recall positive moments to help "build a life worth living". I think seasonal bucket lists are really good at helping with this for me. I look back on the seasons I made these lists way more fondly than the ones I didn't.

They generally center on seasonal activities I don't want to miss out on. So for summer that's stuff like going for a night swim/skinny dip, getting 5-10 good cloud photos, playing a yard game (like cornhole), seeing a street concert, etc. I also try to take pictures of those (if they don't already involve them) so I can reflect on them later and enjoy the residual happiness.

Conclusion

The point of these isn't to overwhelm you with options. It's just to have enough ideas prepped that you can find something no matter your energy level or time you're working with.

Remember - rest and enjoying yourself is necessary for human health. Folks how get good rest and experience flow states more regularly tend to heal better. People who spend time on what they enjoy are often more enjoyable to be around.

It's never a waste of time to make yourself happy.

[perfectlyoongi]

LONG-DISTANCE!JIN who sends selfies with a you-stick-figure drawn by his side. Jin was very creative with his photographs, so much so that in practically all of his photographs, Jin made a point of having you close to him. sitting next to him eating from his bowl, lying on his bed stealing his pillow, the ideas were immense; in every selfie of Jin, there was a display of desire. hiding all his neediness behind humor, Jin did everything to make you laugh and realize that that distance meant nothing. even though you were on the other side of the screen, you were always close to Jin. “another practice done. today you came to watch the rehearsal and you really liked it. too bad you fell asleep in between. frankly, you don’t know how to sleep at night and then this happens.”

LONG-DISTANCE!JIN who sends you a small jar with 366 of his kisses. don’t ask how long Jin took to prepare this gift because the answer was too shameful to share; but that wasn’t the most important thing. the most important thing is that Jin took the time to paint his lips and kiss several strips of paper to put in a jar and give to you as a gift. so, when you needed Jin’s love and he couldn’t give it to you, you had a kiss for every day of the year that made you remember why you loved Jin. “every day of the year i’m kissing you. i devote all my love to you in the form of little kisses to show you that there isn’t a day that goes by that you don’t leave my head.”

LONG-DISTANCE!JIN who creates a story of your own every time he rides a plane. Jin was a man who needed some activity to distract himself, and when he was on a plane, somewhat limited in his activities, Jin would just grab a notebook and a pen and start writing. once upon a time, a wizard from the mountains found a little frog who was prince Jin of the entire kingdom. once upon a time, in a far away land, there was a shepherd named Jin who was afraid of the dark and that was why his neighbor was always at his house on stormy nights. once upon a time, here in this world, there was a boy named Jin who loved very, very, very much a little gift from heaven with your name on it. “i just arrived at the hotel and i have to tell you the story i wrote today. might be my favorite so far. okay, good. so it’s like this. once upon a time, in a lost kingdom, there was a cart that had no wheels…”

LONG-DISTANCE!JIN who offers you a pillow of himself. Jin specialized in comedy. Jin was adept at hiding his pain with comedy. Jin was always ready to make you laugh, as your laughs were able to get past the comedy defenses and warm Jin’s heart. so, when a reasonably large package appeared in the mail, you were surprised at first and only after opening it did you understand everything. Jin had offered you a pillow. but it wasn’t just any pillow. Jin had offered you a pillow of himself, almost as big as him. just a few inches smaller, that pillow with Jin’s smiling face made you laugh again and again and protected you every night you were alone. in his comedy, Jin managed to give you some comfort. “i know i’m amazing and quite handsome, so i had to share myself with you. confess, you were hoping to have a pillow with my beautiful face on it.”

LONG-DISTANCE!JIN who records every game you play together. having any kind of relationship with Jin was synonymous with chaos, especially when games were involved. during your calls, you and Jin would choose a game to pass the time that always ended with screams and laughter on both sides. recorded on his computer were all the failures and victories, and Jin spent hours replaying each of your games, getting lost in your laughs and disasters, always wishing you were there next to him replaying all the moments of happiness with him. “when i most need to have you by my side is when i review our games. i confess that part of me withers when i know that we are in two different homes, but in your laughter and words i find my refuge from this need.”

LONG-DISTANCE!JIN who guarantees that he lives in hell for being so far away from you. why couldn’t Jin be by your side? why weren’t you born on the street in front of him? none of you were bad people. why did you have to suffer like this? Jin just wanted to be with you, to be able to share some of the love that burned him inside. Jin wanted to take care of you like you were a garden; he wanted to help you flourish, discover yourself, be happy. why did you have to be so far away from each other? what cruelty had Jin done in another life to suffer so much? he just wanted you. please. “every day that passes is a torment. what would i give to be there with you. what i would give to be able to give a little of this love that suffocates me so much. my soul is begging to come home.”

LONG-DISTANCE!JIN who showed up at your house when you were heading to the airport to fly to see Jin. you were lucky. you were very lucky. if you hadn’t forgotten your passport at home, you and Jin would never have met. you had thought about surprising Jin on his birthday. Jin had thought about surprising you on his birthday. by a twist of fate, you and Jin had the same idea, just in different locations; and it was with all the luck in the universe, with all the stardust that existed, that Jin managed to get you home. you were ready to leave and it was by cosmic connections that Jin still caught you at home “i can’t believe this. i can’t believe. oh my god. the gods must love us. oh my god. i love you. oh my god. oh my god.”

[ravenstargames]

I have a self-indulgent ask because I just got back home from a surgery. 😅 How would the love interests take care of a sick or injured MC?

Oh no love! ;_; 💜 I hope everything went well and you are doing fine! Wishing you a speedy recovery from the team and I! 💜Also, sorry for taking a while—this was longer than I expected! I hope it makes you feel a little better! 💜

✦ How the LIs / ROs take care of a sick or injured MC!

✦ Amon: He's good at concealing his worry, but he'd be a lot more attentive than the usual. He would make sure the MC is feeling comfortable and is in no pain at all; he'll strike conversation, telling them about his many adventures to make them forget about whatever is going on, keeping them busy and entertained during the day so they can rest well at night. Of course, he's keeping watch while the MC sleeps.

✦ Raeya: She's a calm one. She probably knows what the MC needs before they say anything, and she'll be careful to disturb them as little as possible while still offering her presence as comfort. She would make her special tea brew for the MC, something she used to do when her siblings were little. Anyone would feel safe around Raeya while being sick or hurt, honestly; she makes it seem like she has everything under control at all times! She won't tolerate the MC being a little crybaby, though!

✦ Gael: Oooh he's a little worrywart. He'd be checking on the MC every two seconds, asking what he can do for them, if they need water, a blanket...Probably asking the same questions over and over again until the MC tells him to calm down. At the end of the day, it'd seem the MC is the one taking care of Gael instead. Also, you'd need a spatula to peel him off his loved one, because he won't leave the MC's side!

✦ Envy: They are secretly —and not so secretly— freaking out. Taking care of someone important to them is something they have not done in a long time. They'd keep a diary where he'd write down how the MC is doing every hour, just to make sure everything is going well, and to quickly react to any changes. They'll most likely memorize whatever the medics have said and would be very strict about doctor's orders. They would find any excuse to spend more time with the MC while making it seem like they are sooo annoyed to have to take care of them.

✦ Ara: You know everything will be alright with this sunshine by your side! Ara would cook the MC's favorite meals and would pamper them in every way. She would fill the MC's room with their favorite flowers, open the windows wide to let some fresh air in, give the MC their favorite sweets, and would bring over books and her painting tools to spend the afternoons painting and reading with the MC if they feel like it. She would probably come up with the craziest plans to keep the MC happy and in good spirits while recovering!

✦ Xal: He's a bit clueless at first, because usually he's the one being taken care of. He would make a list of things that make him feel better when he's sick: a good movie, model building, his favorite drink, special snacks, comfort plushies, card games, fluffy blankets...You bet the MC's room would be more crowded than usual. Xal would have a plan for each day to ensure the MC is not having a bad time and to have every hour planned to a T. Also, lots of cuddles, if allowed.

✦ Father Pride: Ah, eons as Father of All and personal father of six, Pride is going to take such good care of you. He'd be confident, unfazed, and he would make sure to pass that confidence into the MC. They are going to be fine. He'll make sure of it. His duties keep him busy most of the time, but he'd check on the MC pretty regularly and would only allow his most trusted medics to assist him in his task of taking care of his beloved. Would write short letters for the MC and leave them on the nighttable for them to find in the morning whenever he has not been able to spend the night with them.

[zoe-oneesama]

On a serious note, why do you not like Derision? I mean, I can guess why, but I’m genuinely curious to hear your thoughts (if you want to).

What have they done to my boy?!

I guess we'll start with the whole "trauma" thing since that's how the episode starts - with Marinette going on a date with Adrien at the pool but constantly getting heart palpitations at the very idea of it. And not good lovey-dovey crush ones like Sabine thinks. The Actual Panic Attack kind.

This just feels unnecessary AND too late. Unnecessary because there are plenty of pre-established reasons why Marinette could be hesitant to go all in with Adrien (Being Ladybug, the 354th other times going for Adrien has failed or left her humiliated, Being Ladybug). So I don't know why they invented a trauma for her in the final hour and didn't think it was worth talking about before now?

They really came up with this whole scheme to explain why Marinette does Marinette things, like learning Adrien's schedule, planning out everything before she tries to make a move, needing to know everything about him, as if the show hasn't been mocking her for these exact traits and allowing them to blow up in her face over and over again. But NOW it's due to her TRAUMA. So...retroactively when her friends laughed at her or slapped their foreheads in frustration or the show framed her failures as a joke...we know it's actually from a tragic place and can't laugh anymore.

I mean, I was never laughing, but you get what I mean. They framed it like it was part of the comedy and now they're pulling the rug out from under themselves. How are you supposed to laugh when Adrien brings Marinette constipation medicine, or when her pictures of him are blasted all over Paris Television, or the *ugh* Statue Scene plays out and now you know that this is just adding to her pre-existing trauma? They have shot the show's rewatch value.

I never thought Marinette needed a "reason" act the way she was because those were always just kinda The Things Teenage Girls Do when they have a crush. I've admitted in the past to learning my crush's class schedule just to orchestrate running into each other in the hallways more often, and if their crush had public interviews and magazine pictures, I'm pretty sure most kids would also cut out their pictures to keep and would read and remember the interviews. I never really saw her behavior as that weird for a girl her age with a crush and recognize some cartoon exaggeration.

...Stealing his phone was a little weird, though, I'll give them that though Alya is the one who suggested it first...

SO, we enter a long flashback to One Year Ago (with Marinette now on her third Almost-Akumatization, good lord) and learn what life was like for Marinette pre-Origins, and oh boy. It's hell. She's making up illnesses to avoid school, avoiding all contact with anyone in the courtyard, having cockroaches put in her locker, having the Principal catch her "late" for class (after she had to clean herself up from a water prank), gets yelled at by the teacher for being late, sits in paint, mocked in class and then yelled at again by the teacher for pointing out the person mocking her probably planted it, and gets Saturday detention. All in one day. And when anyone tries to talk to her or even glares at the person responsible, they get threatened too.

The main reason this is hell is because Marinette is being let down by every single adult in her life. Sabine just laughs and tells Marinette that she only has a few weeks left with Chloe and it's not like she'll be in the same class as her next year.🙃 Well, why don't you make SURE she doesn't?! Maybe this is just an American vs French school thing, but where I come from, it's totally within your rights to request that your child not be put in the same class as someone else, they could at least put in a throw away line about her parents TRYING to move her, but Chloe's not allowing it JUST to keep Marinette close to her. And maybe take this a little more seriously, Sabine- your daughter is faking illness to avoid One. Girl. That should be concerning, not "lol my daughter is so silly for trying to get out of class."

Damocles finds Marinette and yells at her for being "constantly late" and praising the "anonymous notes" (signed by Chloe -_-) for always alerting him when she's behind, and then later gives her Saturday detention for...someone clearly planting paint on her desk chair? He sees a victim of bullying and punishes her for it. At the end of the episode he even suspends Socqueline for something that happened outside of school, yet in "Jubilation" she's pumping him up as The Best Principal?! Does this show thinks we're stupid or something?!

Mendeleiev also yells at Marinette for being late. She allows Chloe to make fun of Marinette for looking depressed when she comes in and allows Chloe to mock Marinette for sitting in paint, but when Marinette doesn't even stand up for herself but just accuses Chloe of putting the paint there, THEN Mendeleiev has something to say, and it's to Marinette? For "groundlessly" accusing the only person in the room laughing at Marinette, the one who was just making fun of her, the one who kept her eyes on Marinette so she could watch her sit in the paint?

Marinette tells Socqueline that all the adults are scared of Chloe, but that's not what I saw. Sure, at the end of the episode Damocles is afraid when Chloe pulls a "Lady Wifi" to force him to punish Socqueline for smashing Sabrina's phone, but the sequence of events played out more like the adults participating in the bullying. It wasn't like Damocles was sympathetic to Marinette and then Chloe cleared her throat, so he straightened up nervously and started berating Marinette. It wasn't like Marinette accused Chloe and then Chloe glared at Mendeleiev, forcing her to finally intervene. All the adults see what's going on and are either completely oblivious or don't care.

Also, Chloe totally unprompted says this:

GET A LIFE, what is your PROBLEM?! Like, why have a flashback episode and not have it explain what Chloe's fixation on Marinette even is?! It doesn't have to be big or anything! Like, have Marinette trip and spill something on Chloe in art class! Just do something!

And like, I totally get that irl bullies just choose their targets for no real reason and this is just another example of that, but to this level?! Just...get a hobby!

And then there's the big thing they did in this stupid episode. The unforgivable. The reprehensible.

This fucking guy.

It's been so long since we've seen Bully Kim that I was pretty sure he was left behind entirely on the draft floor. Sure, Kim is still capable of being insensitive or not thinking long-term, but he was a good kid. He roots for his friends and wants everyone to have a good time.

Hell, I could even buy that Kim was dumb enough to believe Chloe when she claims what he did was a funny practical joke that they'd all laugh about later...until Socqueline came up and yelled at him that he should be ashamed of himself.

And Ondine yelled at him in the present that he should be ashamed of himself.

And it's a year later and he should have realized by now that he should be ashamed of himself.

Kim is dumb, that's just a fact, but the way he doubles down and is so sure of himself that NO it's everyone ELSE who has a problem because they can't take a JOKE? Like...why?! Why did they co-sign on this character assassination?!

Just make him become akumatized because he's A S H A M E D of what he did now that he's finally sitting down and thinking about it a year later! He can keep the same look and motif, just have Monarch stroke the part of him that doesn't want him to be the jerk, the old Kim! It's totally normal, especially for a kid, to want to believe that they're not the bad guy even with all the evidence pointing to it, so I could even see the akuma being exactly the same.

But naur, it's KIM who talks like a right-wing podcast douche bag, complaining that you can't just speak your mind these days and everyone needs to get a sense of humor, they just don't GET it man, this is just how he IS brah, take it or leave it! His akuma's even named "Dark Humor", like edgy losers on reddit who make racist/sexist jokes and then get mad when he's downvoted and boo'd out of a forum. God, we just CAN'T TAKE A JOKE I guess.

I'm glad this is resolved by Ladybug gluing a toilet to his head.

I just...I feel like this could've worked in Season 1, or Season 2. Like...put it before Dark Cupid or before Syren or something. That way, Kim being a total douche is the starting point of his character arc, not the Season 5 Post-Hero Run point, ugh.

It'd also make this stupid line make more sense:

I'm sorry, the girl who got you akumatized after she humiliated you in nearly the same way you humiliated Marinette? I guess that was "just a prank bro" too, right?

Establish Marinette's problems with romance early, so she can overcome them or at least give them the proper context. It'd at least make the show look better if they hadn't made fun of her for 4 Seasons only to drop this bombshell on us at the end. You know...the thing that they just did.

This episode just isn't fun. I hated "Illusion" because all you get to see is the bad guys winning and outsmarting the heroes, but "Derision" is a marathon of seeing the absolute misery Marinette was put through, just to jump forward to the present to destroy a character that I really liked.

Would a kid even like this episode?

[cjgladback]

I went to my first fiber festival this past weekend! Hoosier Hills Fiber Festival; if I'm still in this state come June next year, I'll probably be back and would love to meet anybody else there. Socializing/hanging out/talking to people without feeling like I was obstructing Real Customers was the one thing I missed, though I didn't really get to any of the free lectures so maybe that's where I could've met some people. Since it was an unknown situation with a lot of people and nearly an hour drive each way, I strategized to make sure I'd go:

First day, I signed up for a couple volunteer shifts. Absolutely a recommended strategy.

Got to be helpful!

They happened to have goodie bags, to help me justify the gas and time (I now have a nice tape measure to replace the one that's been vacationing with a missing sewing kit for a couple years and a lasercut wood two-inch gauge window that might help me with consistency versus my suboptimal practice of just trying to knit perfect squares when swatching in pattern)

I got to learn things about the layout and schedule I wouldn't know to ask when answering questions and acting as a gofer -- especially true working two different locations

And of course, some people were pretty much guaranteed to be happy to see me!

Second day, I signed up for a workshop in the morning so I'd be there and able to shop for anything I needed at the end. Ombre yarn dyeing was the class! It's acid dyes, something I'm several years off from wanting to get into enough to commit to dedicated cookware, full pots of dye powder, etc. The room with the workshop was a barn that had plenty of outlets--but they did not represent plenty of breakers. So there weren't quite enough functional heating elements for the class to have sufficiently cooked our yarn before leaving, and I did need to risk a giant stock pot at home for three batches of four jars, almost-simmering in a water bath for thirty minutes each, of the yarn that hadn't proven it was done (all but the two palest greens). I was a little worried the delay/drawn out heat situation would affect the results but if it did it wasn't much; I got pretty much exactly what I was hoping for with my two color gradient and the single is great too!

The single dye gradient is the color Moss, which did some interesting things with the red portion separating out once they were heated. Every skein has redder blotches, so I'm not bothered about any inconsistency -- if anything it'll help my finished product camouflage stains. Though it was definitely a surprise for me and the other Moss user in the class when our first yarn to have exhausted the dye was the complementary color to what it went in as.

The two color gradient used Rhodamine Red on one end, which was one end of one of our instructor's samples where she chose a cool-green for the other end to show how multi-component dyes mix less predictably than most paint. (It was kinda like shading with markers where you can still see washes of the pink and green in what you squint at and call a grey-brown.) The other end was Cantaloupe, which was one of the maybe three colors she didn't have a sample cut of yarn for. But she described it as the flesh of a perfect ripe cantaloupe and obviously I had to see that, and it sounded like it would be fairly guaranteed to combine nicely with the magenta while being just enough around a bend in the color wheel to be interesting--warm orange versus cool pink. As I said, it turned out pretty much exactly as I was picturing. Not anticipated was how much the jars looked like they were full of some delicious dragonfruit-mango beverage. Were I still a barista I'd be trying to recreate this for my shift drink.

Image descriptions under the cut.

[ID: Five images following fourteen small skeins of sock yarn dyed in individual glass jars, in two gradients. One gradient is six skeins from a medium forest green through a pale creamy pink, the other is eight skeins from a vibrant yellow orange through an even more vibrant magenta. The first photo is inside under fluorescent lights, showing the 32oz glass canning jars with metal lids and rings, full of dye and yarn on a table at the end of the class in which they were filled and heated for a short time.

The next two images are animated gifs. The first gif is two frames showing the finished dye jars sitting in grass, with their yarn and with it removed. The green gradient left only transparent blue color in its jars, and most of the pink to orange gradient's water looks more orange without its yarn, aside from the third and fourth jars from the orange end, which shade toward a neon lilac with the peachy pink yarn removed. The second gif is a view of the inside of the bright green wash bucket, with just the pink-orange yarn in it, then all of them mixed up, all as they were after a soak with the rust-brown water, in the first rinse, and that rinse water alone showing its transparent but still brown tint.

The last two photos show the gradients lined up along a weathered wooden bench on the side of a deck. The first photo has the wet piles of yarn bundled in front of each of their respective jars with remaining dye. The final photo has the clean, dry yarn wound into center-pull balls and still vibrant in the direct sunlight. End ID]

[showyouhowiswing]

Some chyan headcanons:

most people think they became friends during that summer at Lava Springs, after the baseball game and Ryan became more inmeshed with the general student body

it's true enough, kind of.

they weren't friends during junior year, before all that shit went down with Troy and Gabi and the school musical, but they were something

they hooked up a few times during Darbus's detentions, backstage where no one would ever find them and once in the rafters while they were supposed to be painting the top bit of a set

it didnt mean anything. they didnt talk about it. it just sort of happened numerous times. they were both totally chill about it and Chad definitely didnt spend many nights by himself, thinking about what it would be like to not be so lonely. Ryan didnt either.

the first actual night they spent together was after the infamous baseball game, and at some point lying in the dark, tangled up in each other, Chad admitted he didn't know why they hadnt done this before.

"No beds backstage, and we were on a timecrunch. Besides, you wouldn't have said yes if I invited you over."

once they really became friends, Chad spent most of his friday nights at Ryan's, even after senior year started.

it was only a little bit about sex.

Chad eventually confessed that Ryan was his queer awakening. Ryan refused to believe him because he knew he wasn't the first guy Chad had fooled around with.

it's true though.

sophomore year Ryan became the mascot, and the first time Chad saw him take the head off Ryan was drenched in sweat and his hair was sticking to his forehead. Chad went home that night and dreamt about it.

he did hookup with a guy on the track team, convinced that his fixation on Ryan was a fluke.

it wasn't a fluke.

Ryan knew about track team guy not because Chad told him, but because he also used to hook up with the guy and he saw some rather incriminating texts on his phone.

junior year Chad kissed Ryan first, but only because Ryan egged him on.

"If you dont want to chat, Danforth, maybe you should find something else for us to do."

yes it was because of the texts, no he didnt think Chad would actually do it. he was pleasantly surprised though.

after the game it was also Chad who initiated, although it went a little differently.

"I'll do the show on two conditions, Evans. One, you go out for baseball this year. I don't care what your sister or anyone else has to say about it."

"And the second?"

"Take your pants off."

over the course of senior year, everybody kind of figured there was something going on with them, but it wasn't confirmed until the morning after prom. they all shared a handful of hotel rooms, except Sharpay who fucked off to god knows where, and Ryan who specifically got his own room to get away from the eventual chaos.

and Chad, who was of course the exception to the rule.

Zeke woke them up the next morning for brunch, and Ryan (in an attempt to be helpful) tried to cover and say he slept on the floor, obviously there was nothing indecent going on.

Chad, from under the duvet, announced that Ryan was a terrible liar because not only did they definitely have sex last night, it had been going on awhile, and also Chad was very bisexual and anyway they'd be down for brunch in half an hour.

he made a similar speech at brunch minus the duvet and specifics regarding the sex.

everyone was chill, though money did exchange hands. Kelsi was miffed they didnt wait until after graduation so she could win the pool.

they're happy together.

so incredibly happy.

[morganbritton132]

Do the boys do anything for Easter? I feel like Eddie would hide eggs with treats in it for Ozzy to hide.

Eddie had only been living with Wayne for a few months when their neighbor across the way came knocking on their door. She was a single mother with two unruly children and always tried to flirt with Wayne when he was leaving for work.

The way Wayne tells it, she’s organizing an Easter egg hunt for the kids in the trailer park. Ain’t no reason why they shouldn’t get to have the same experiences as better off kids just ‘cause the price of eggs went up a bit. If the Munsons can afford it, she’d appreciate if they donated.

Wayne’s seen Eddie’s notebooks – there are more drawings in them than school work – and thought he might get a kick out of decorating eggs. He even went out and bought a dye kit.  Eddie was a little too old for something like that, but he could see an olive branch when it was being extended.

Him and Wayne hadn’t yet found their footing with each other, but Wayne was making an effort. No one has ever done that before, so Eddie accepted with one exception, “You gotta paint them with me.”

They boil eggs on the stove and argue about how long you’re supposed to keep them on for. It turns out that Wayne is just as meticulous with his artwork as Eddie is because they spent hours painting and dip-dying eggs. Wayne even broke out an old paint set he had so they could use actual paintbrushes.

Eddie painted a dragon on one egg and an orc on another one. Wayne painted Tweety Bird on one egg and Garfield on another. They were a big hit at the egg hunt (even though Wayne insisted that Eddie participate and he wiped the floor with the other kids).

The extent of Easter in the Harrington house was: Get dressed, go to church, don’t embarrass anybody. That was it. They didn’t do a big dinner. There was no Easter Bunny visit. They never stayed long enough after church services to participate in the church’s easter egg hunt. When he got older, he’d go to Tommy’s, but they then they were too old for the fun Easter traditions.

When Steve taught second grade, he would buy candy and make Easter baskets for his students. He would organize an Easter egg hunt with the other second grade teachers with – much to Eddie’s supreme disappointment – plastic eggs. He was more disappointed to learn that middle schoolers don’t have parties.

So the first Easter after Steve got Ozzy, Eddie was celebrating Easter the right way.

The whole holiday is still kind of lost on Steve, but he’s entertained Eddie enough to just go along with it when he’s this excited about something.

The first year, they learn very quickly that you should not let your dog eat a lot of boiled eggs (also Eddie forgot when he put all of them and Steve nearly killed him). Every year after, Eddie has gotten more and more elaborate and Ozzy gets more and more excited. Steve has woken up to this dog prancing in place with excitement, waiting for them to get up to see what the ‘Easter Bunny’ left him.

A couple years ago, they started putting treats and snacks in plastic eggs and hiding them around the house for Ozzy to find. And then when they got Joan, they started including catnip and toy mice in some of the eggs.

Steve and Eddie continue their tradition of buying each other the most fucked up chocolate bunnies they can find.

[mugentakeda]

some random lighthearted hcs ^_^ 👍👍 cus all ive been posting is angst shit tralalalaaa

-iroh and lu tens biggest beef (satirical exaggeration) was always over tea preferences. they both love it- but in just wildly different ways. lu ten liked tea with milk and ginger and cardamom and sugar and black pepper and all kinds of other spices and shit (aka saffron chai). meanwhile his father is, as we all know, one of those snobs that dies on the hill of appreciating tea with its delicate and natural flavors alone. even if it just tasted like grass. one time, though, iroh was overjoyed to hear lu ten found a tea he liked just on its own (aka hibiscus tea), without add ons. but then was dismayed to immediately discover that lu ten liked it served cold (aka karkadeh). later, just to fuck with his dad, lu ten announced that he discovered its even better with the additions of citrus juice, honey, and mint. iroh just cant ever win with his boys

-azula is the youngest so its like instinct to be annoying. like shed get genuine urges to go and annoy zuko somehow someway. not all the times shes annoyed him are malicious- sometimes shed go in his room and if he was at his desk shed pluck the brush out of his hand and throw it across the room and take all the candles out and leave without closing the door behind her. or if he was laying down shed pull his socks halfway off throw his blanket on the floor and leave. she did it all wordlessly for comedic effect until he was like “why.” and then shed start cackling like a maniac

-lu ten enjoyed engaging in little kid activities with azula and zuko. hed sit on his stomach and kick his feet while finger painting. hed play whatever the fire nation version of hopscotch is with them, along with mai and ty lee. when azula covered his mouth before he said something to embarrass her in front of ty lee hed lick her hand and shed start screeching. hed make jokes about zuko being short even though lu ten could legally drink and zuko was like 10 so it didnt even make sense

-lu tens azula nicknames: lala (naturally), pumpkin, crab cake, sweetheart, baby (the last two only come out when its just the two of them or if shes upset. she has a reputation.)

lu tens zuko nicknames: zuzu (naturally), turtleduck (also naturally), princeling, squirt, shrimpmunk (note how most of these are a cute joke about him being Tiny and Small)

the kids called him lulu when he called them zuzu and lala. when he was teaching azula how to talk she called him baba for like a week to his dismay and panic, even if she didnt know what that meant, until he got it through her head that he wasnt the one to be called that. and ozai wasnt either because unfortunately he isnt the casual type

(he also called ursa auntie in front of anyone. to his great joy, ursa told him that ozai complained about it to her. thus, he continued to do it)

-lu ten made time for the kids not by ignoring his duties in their favor but by overachieving and overworking to stay as far ahead of his duties as possible. the faster he got shit done the more time leftover he had. his favorite thing to do with them aside from ember island was sneak them out of the palace and into the town during the evening, when they had all the best street food and outdoor theater set out

-roughhousing and chasing each other around was always a thing iroh and lu ten did before things got awkward and sour. their pai sho games- when they werent using it as a vessel for serious conversations- were loud, dramatic, and funny to witness. like iroh would be swearing and lu ten would be laughing hysterically. the servants would come and go with refreshments while giggling

-iroh and lu ten also engaged in Old Man Activities together. like you know how old folks just sit on porches for hours for no reason??? iroh and lu ten would do that together in the palace garden. they also did morning meditation and prayer at the ass crack of dawn

-before zuko was born and it was for the most part just ursa and lu ten, she got homesick a lot, and taught lu ten some of the stuff she did before marrying into the family. so lu ten knew how to make shit like jewelry, clay masks, and embroidered fans

-on ember island trips the three did a lot of cooking together. azula liked making sweet treats and fruit platters, zuko liked making kimchi and fried snacks. cleaning the mess is just as much a bonding activity as making the mess

-lu ten managed to keep whatever the hell he had going on with zhao a complete secret from iroh and ursa, zuko was just oblivious, but azula��� is perceptive. and nosy. and protective. so one day when zhao leaves the palace azula approaches lu ten from out of nowhere and is basically like “(Katt Williams voice) You have an unnatural allegiance to losers and its not like you 😐”. he has no clue what to say to that

(it was not to azulas knowledge that zhao was harassing zuko constantly during his banishment. had she known, she wouldve done something about it. Not something that would inconvenience her father or the navy, obviously, but she wouldve definitely done something. #Trust.)

[dearestcynthiaw]

Goodbye Stranger - House MD x Reader

Chapter one: World Weary

A young, mild woman, of noble decent, comes face to face with an infamous doctor, not just from the other side of the world but seemingly a whole other time. Will he believe her ridiculous, and quite frankly, impossible story? In House's mind, everybody lies, but is that so for this new, mysterious woman.

_________________________________________

This is my first fanfic in a long time, I'm quite new to Tumblr, so hello!

I'm absolutely infatuated with this series at the moment, so I thought I'd do a bit of writing and play with a concept that makes me ponder. This is very very loosely based on a original character that lives rent free in my mind. I've done a chunk of paintings of her so I'll post a few as headers on some of the chapters. The character in this will go nameless, and is intended to be a self-insert for those reading, therefore I've tagged it as a 'x reader'.

I'm not a doctor and I don't work in medicine so lots of this is research and a little help from a friend who is a nurse, so the knowledge in it will be hit or miss.

Anyway, enjoy!

----

It had been a long, hot, blissful summer in the year of 1928. Newly September, the days were starting to get shorter and the trees were turning crisp and orange.

It had been quite a bad week, though bad was quite the understatement. Her uncle was on his deathbed. He’d suffered through a long bout of influenza that was seemingly impossible to recover from. She visited as often as she could, hoping that each visit wouldn't be the last. Her heart was heavy from knowing his death would eventually become inevitable. He had always been a man of great prowess and genuine kindness, which was a rarity in her family, and losing him would shatter her.

Moreover, her fiancé was hurried to hospital after a nasty accident at a rugby match. He hadn't been concentrating when running the length of the pitch, he tripped and was ambushed by the collective. His ankle looked horribly out of shape, one could only imagine how many degrees it had rotated. It looked almost entirely backwards. 

Her Fiancé's hospitalisation and her uncle's sickness had caused the worst sleeping patterns. She'd barely had a few hours each night for the past week. As she laid in bed most nights, especially in the early hours of the morning, thoughts and worries flurried through her head. She lay there hoping to God everything would set itself straight.

The exhaustion had impacted every aspect of her day so far, and she had marched up to the central hospital, from her soon to be in-laws townhouse, she felt overwhelmingly drowsy and unsteady. Of course there was no transport to be seen for miles to cut down the walking distance and give her a couple seconds of peace. All servants were out of the house, and it had become increasingly  difficult to hail a taxi. 

She trudged through the bustling streets, avoiding streams of people surging towards her. She had arrived at roughly 13:11 pip-emma, give or take, hoping that her beloved was already awake and breakfasted, to spare the grumpiness.

Awkwardly she stood, though all else were seated, patiently waiting for the nurse to lead the way to her sweet fiance's room.

She had been called with the added 'Lady' positioned at the very beginning of her name. It had caused a slight shudder to run down her spine as the room of plenty turned to look in her direction, eyebrows quirking in curiosity.

She appeared quite out of place in the very centre of London in a hospital bustling with people who were much different to herself.

Although she never minded her title, she much preferred the simple 'miss'. 'Lady' carried too much sophistication and responsibility, the sort associated with cutting ribbons and giving out writing awards at local schools. It felt far beyond her, she’d always felt sort of, under prepared.

Standing there in her professionally ironed clothing and perfectly soft waved hair, being ogled at, made her feel uncomfortably separate from everyone else.

‘Just this way, You’ll find he’s in quite a pleasant mood today, we’ve been able to better control his pain since you’ve last seen him.’ The nurse turned to face the Lady, with a sweet smile as they walked the extensive, dismal hallways. 

The door was ajar, and from the threshold she could see a well lit room, far different to the rest of the hospital. There were bouquets of flowers scattered about, along with ‘Get Well Soon’ cards that were crammed upon the limited surfaces. There were excessive amounts of sweetmeats and sugary treats upon the bed and sideboard. This man had only been admitted the day before and he already received a hefty amount of goods. It wouldn't be long before he had to pack it all up and head home.

 She had been loudly interrupted from her thoughts with a cheerful ‘What-ho sweetheart!’. The nurse was quite right, he was much more sprightly today. 

‘I say, take a seat, this chair or that, you might even be allowed to perch on my bed a while!’ Snorting, he motioned towards a patch on his bed that wasn’t decorated with an array of sweets. 

‘You look quite at home here. Should I be assured that they’re looking after you well?’ Her eyes were glued to his bubbly expression. It was quite surprising for a man who had been writhing about in pain on a muddy pitch the day prior.

‘Quite, quite, very well indeed. Though, I can’t ever seem to get any service here. They’re always ignoring me. I don’t ask that much of them.’

It was almost certain that he did, it could only presume that he wanted to be pandered to and pampered as though he was on the coast of France in some lavish hotel. 

She could only look at him with a sense of pity, she only saw a man who was in a great deal of pain and was pushing through with a gleaming smile.

She found she was at quite a loss for words, sympathising with him wouldn't do as he'd only push himself to show he wasn't entirely helpless. This always put him in a worse state. ‘Do you know when you might be coming home?’ was all she could think of after the momentary silence.

‘Oh yes, yes, it was supposed to be today, but I’ve asked to be held on until tomorrow. Charlie from the club said he’d drive me home.’ 

‘You don’t want me to take you home? I can do it later today when Dobson gets back, he has the key to the shed where my car is-’ Again she applied a bright smile, hoping she could be of help. ‘You’ll only have to wait till 3. It’s really not that long darling.’ 

‘Gosh no, I don’t like it when you drive, makes me feel like a helpless sod.’

Lightly exhaling and nodding she looked down at her hands in her lap.

And again he spoke; ‘You’ll have to bring me a glass of water dearest, I can’t get the attention of anyone at this bloody hospital. And I'm bloody parched!' He seemed to let out a sort of huff; boyishly crossing his arms.

As she stood and started to walk, he shouted after her ‘Oh! And grab a doctor for me too, there’s something I need him to see.’ 

With a sweet smile and a light nod she turned on her heel, heading back for that ominous, dark hallway.

A short way down she found a small cupboard, one with a tap and a couple glasses and other bits and pieces to accommodate patients and guests.

Just before fetching a glass, she lent over and placed her head on the counter, with her arms cradling her head. She let out a long exhale to release some of the stress of the day. The exhaustion was starting to catch up, she could so easily have a quick nap with her head on the cold surface.

Finally gathering the energy to move, she lifted a glass and ran the tap, making sure she didn’t fill the vessel with lukewarm water.

Someone must have closed the door whilst she took her momentary rest, as when she turned she was confronted by the clinical white passageway that was firmly shut. 

With a heavy push she dislodged the door from its threshold and found herself to be completely disoriented. Nothing looked the same. She thought that maybe she had taken a long route to this small cupboard and had simply forgotten the way she came.

She was completely surrounded by shelves upon shelves of supplies. There was only one other door and it was straight ahead. She turned again, wandering back inside the smaller room with the sink, studying her surroundings to see if there was another entrance that she might have overseen. Yet there was nothing. 

She finally settled on advancing towards the opposite door, walking between the sets of shelves that carried an array of different peculiar items that resembled medical arsenal, none of which she had ever seen used before, but yet again, she didn’t spend much time hanging around hospitals to see what new advances were made in the field. 

Just as she reached for the door handle, it began to pull downwards as a force was applied to the opposite side.

Jumping back in surprise and slight panic, feeling as though she had wandered into the wrong part of the building, she had no time to think out a possible explanation before the door was fully open. 

The man that was stood there gave her a wide eyed look, appearing equally as perplexed as herself.

She quickly took in his figure, he was no doubt tall, taller then most of the men that she knew, and was scruffily dressed, she wondered if he might have taken a wrong turn too.

Taking in a quick breath she squeaked; ‘Are you lost too?’

‘No.’ He had a distinctive accent as he bluntly said the singular word. 

‘I’m in your way, sorry, I’ll just-’ She peered to his side noting the direction she was heading. 

‘How did you get in here?’ His eyebrow quirked.

‘Through that door.’ She pointed behind herself, his eyes quickly following her movement. There was nothing there. No door in sight, as though it had never been there to begin with. 

She looked back at him in surprise ‘I could have sworn-’ 

With that he let out a bark of laughter. She felt ever so small and grew red in the face. 

‘I must be tired, but I swear that's where I came from.’

‘No door there sweetheart, never was.’ 

Her mouth formed an ‘o’ shape, yet no sound came out. ‘I better get back to my fiancé.’ 

‘You haven’t answered my question.’ He attempted to stop her proceeding. 

‘Well, I don’t really have much of an answer, because I certainly don’t remember entering through the door you’re standing in.’ 

‘This door was locked, did someone let you in? What you looking for, is it drugs? Could’ve just asked.’ Now she spotted his walking stick, he was leaning onto it, slightly blocking the way so he could continue interrogating her. 

‘How dare you, I wouldn’t do anything like that.’ 

‘They all say that.’ 

‘Can I just get through? I need to take this to my fiancé.’ She raised the glass in her hand.

‘What ward?’ 

‘Somerset Ward.’ Her answers were getting shorter as she became frazzled by the constant questions. 

‘Haven’t heard of that one before.’ 

‘It’s fine, I’ll find my own way.’ 

‘You still haven’t answered my question.’

‘Look, I really haven’t got a clue. Can I go now please?’ She gave a hapless sigh as she was getting to the end of her tether. 

He stepped aside, yet seemed to follow her as she stepped into an unfamiliar hall. It was bright white, almost blinding. It looked like an entry to the hospital, one that she’d never seen before. There were people scattered everywhere, wearing clothing very different from her own. She turned back to look at her interrogator with a look of shock and slight horror. ‘What is this?’

‘A hospital.’ He started to limp away, towards what looked like a reception desk. ‘You coming?’ She could see him leaning over the desk having a bit of a natter with a person sat there. She slowly got closer observing every detail in front of her. The gadgets and do-dads that adorned each desk and clinical colours that decorated the whole room. She'd never seen anything like this before. She must've ended up on the other side of the building, maybe a more experimentative wing compared to the others. 

She stepped closer to what looked like a reception desk, momentarily placing down her glass of water.

‘Name?’ Came a sudden voice that carried a very similar accent to the male that she had encountered in that odd cupboard. She couldn’t quite see, until a lady poked her head out behind a silver sort of implement about the width of a brief case or small luggage holder. 

There, she gave her full name in the presence of this strange man, middle name and all. A pattering sound began, like one you would hear from a typewriter, but without the obnoxious ‘ping’.

‘Dr House!’ This woman bellowed, only now realising that he’d started to wander away. 

‘Can’t find a name on the system.’ 

‘You’re trying to find my records? I’m not a patient here, I’m only visiting. Besides you won’t find it by typing, it’ll be in paper form, I thought that was the same for everyone?'

‘Sorry dear, Dr House told me you’d found your way off the psychiatric ward, your name isn't even on the database.’ This woman behind the desk looked directly into her eyes, showing vague sympathy.

‘You think I’m mad?!’ She cried at the ’doctor’. 

He continued to move away, towards what looked like a metal cladded elevator ‘Would explain the confusion.’ He shouted over the room of, what she could presume were patients waiting to be seen. 

She quickly jammed her arm into the door of the metal contraption before it fully closed. 

‘I am tired, but I’m certainly not out of my mind. I think you're having a joke with this whole thing. Who set you up to this? It’s really not funny. Can you just tell me what part of the hospital I've ended up in and I’ll be on my way.’

Again an amused smirk graced his face ‘You’re in the clinic.’

‘Well I’d gathered that from the sign above my head, but none of this is recognisable. I’ve been to the clinic before but it didn’t look anything like this.’

‘You sure you got the right hospital?’ He seemed so disinterested in giving any useful information.

‘Well yes, I’m in London-’

‘Well there we go, you’d better find your way back onto the crazy people ward, you’ve forgotten what country you're in. Next it’ll be what year from the look of you.’ He glanced down at her dress, to him it looked outdated. 

‘Can you stop that? Tell me seriously now.’ She appeared panicked, worse than she had been previously. She had hit the verge of begging.

With a sigh he gave up on the teasing ‘Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. You happy now?’

‘Princeton, New Jersey?’ Her hands were starting to shake, struggling to keep the elevator door open. She’d only ever seen this place in atlases that she used to flick through in her childhood home’s extensive library.

‘Where else?’

‘No no no no no, this isn't possible.’ She stepped inside quickly before the door slammed shut. Putting her face in her hands and taking shuddering breaths.‘You’re definitely not lying right? This isn’t a joke anymore. It's all very funny, but are you sure this isn’t just an American part of the hospital and you’re just pulling my leg?’ 

The doctor seemed to ignore her and continue to look straight ahead, both hands on his cane.

The door to, what she had now concluded was indeed an elevator, slid open and he stepped out. She hurried after him and as she began to walk beside him he halted, staring directly at the side of her head, fierce enough to burn holes into her skull.

‘You can leave me alone now. I’m not going to help you get a plane ticket or whatever you are pestering me for. Go back to the 1920s or whatever F.Scott Fitzgerald book you think you came out of. If this is some tasteful prostitution then give me a ring later. Goodbye.’ And with that he veered off into a room that was made up of mostly glass panels. 

The door flew shut and finally revealed this man's full name and title ‘GREGORY HOUSE M.D. DEPARTMENT OF DIAGNOSTIC MEDICINE’

Though he seemed to be warning her, she still pushed forth, entering the office space ‘Aren’t doctors supposed to help people?’ She had never been so forthright, if she were back at home she would’ve taken that as a forewarning and scampered off like a scared mouse. 

Dr House was now sitting hunched over at the desk, eyes glued to another one of those abnormal briefcase things that casted a blue tinged light over his face.

‘Are you not listening to me or are you just plain deaf? I said goodbye.’

‘I’m not taking that as the end of the conversation, Dr House.’ Her confidence was building, though it was most likely the adrenaline surging through her veins. She took steps closer to him, peering down at the jumbled items upon his desk. Odds and ends and many stacks of paper were littered about like a white blanket covering the entirety of the desk.

Her eye caught on one document reading today's date in the margain with a completely unrecognisable year. ‘2006’.

Her eyes bulged and her head seemed to be endlessly screaming. There was a fuzzy static sound that ringed in her ears and her breathing became short. Throughout the whizzing of her mind, she remained completely silent and still. 

‘Patient confidentiality, don’t you know.’ He said flipping over the paper she had been gawking at.

‘Two-thousand and six.’ was what she muttered beneath her breath.

‘So you really are that deranged. The whole get up is all part of the act. Are you living out a fantasy or something?’ 

‘It’s 2006? It’s 1928, your document is wrong. I mean this could be a very elaborate joke or is this a film set?’

‘You’ll have to pay me overtime if you keep asking me all these questions. $300 and you’ll get the full package, what d’you say Marty.’

'Are you still insinuating that I am a whore?’ She now began to grit her teeth. ‘And that is not my name-' She was cut off whilst she was reprimanding him.

'I’m the whore here, I’m the one offering my body, Marty. Now, what would that make me? Doc Brown? nah, maybe a generational relative from the future. Really spooky stuff. What have you come to tell me? About my impending death or bad life choices? Because you're a bit late.' Resting his head on his hands he looked up inquisitively. 

'I really don't understand-?' She spoke whilst shaking her head.

''Course you don't ' He pulled his lips thin, eyes widening and shrugging his shoulders. ’You think you're a time traveller and I’m here to tell you to head back down those stairs to where you belong, in the psychiatric ward.’

Her face twisted in disgust as he spoke such cruel, unadulterated words. She could feel the tears in the back of her eyes. No one was going to believe her, she barely even believed it herself.

‘What? Am I supposed to play along? Oops!’ His actions were so animated as he lifted a hand to his mouth.

He picked up what could've been a phone and brought it to his ear chatting with someone on the other end and began typing vigorously.

‘Looks like they'll have to book you in. No records here. Oh, tell you what, let's Google you, see what we can find.’ 

‘Google?’ She rubbed her forehead with worry.

‘What fun, you're still playing along.’ His words carried an underlying bite. ‘Here we go, nice, so you're daddy's an Earl and you live in a big mansion and have lots of money. I'm not surprised that you picked this woman to claim as your identity. It's full of all those fun parts. You've gone the extra mile too, editing a photo of yourself amongst your fictional family, how sweet.’ He turned the screen around and there was a photo of her and her brothers. 

Gasping in shock she spluttered ‘How did you get that?! That’s a private photograph!’ 

‘How did you do it then, Marty? Did you change the whole of this Wiki page to suit you?’ He tutted.

Standing silent in the emptiness of this office was like torture. She bit her tongue to stop the tears and prevent the endless wrath of words she was holding back. ‘How could you be so cruel, Dr House?’ She shook her head. ‘I thought you were going to help me.’ Her words were wavering as she spoke softly. 

He raised his shoulders once again lifting his hands up to display mock confusion ‘What is there to help?’.

And with those last few words she turned, flying out of the room.

----

‘World Weary’ - Noël Coward 1928

----

~ It was an early morning yesterday, I was up before the dawn ~

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 2 - Pariah

Waking up in the Raymond Manor isn't exactly the most eventful, or even cheerful activity one can do. Katrina, of all people, would know after all.  Her personal maid gets into her room, wakes her up, helps her dress - As though she's incapable of doing so herself! The audacity! - Then she is served breakfast, which consists of the same type of tea every damn day, and some bread and jam, or some scones. Nothing too much, of course, or her silhouette is going to get ruined.

Once the morning routine is over, and she's had her make up and hair done, she begins her classes. Not that she has the privilege of choosing what lessons she could do, otherwise, she'd have loved to pursue her love and passion for Science and Medicine. Ever since she's found her brother's hidden book stash, she's been obsessed with learning more. Alas, she was forced to study arts, languages and lady mannerism... 

Of course, she was of the impression that each and every skill, no matter how little or insignificant, should prove useful, in one way or another; Though her parents simply wish her to appear aesthetically pleasing for her future husband. She's never going to be allowed to get a job, she's just supposed to marry her fiance soon and start popping out an endless string of heirs. Exist simply for the sake of others. Being born in a noble family where only appearances and wealth matter - A privilege for the men, a curse for the women. Lo and behold the blood purity of the Raymond family!

All day, every day, the very same, maddening things. Violin class. German class. French class. Latin class. Painting class. Manners class. Dancing class.

Katrina was at her wit's end. Her parents being unnecessarily strict wasn't helping either - They were of the belief that the sole role of a woman was to bring heirs into this world and look pleasing to her Lord Husband's eye.  Katrina strongly disagrees. She had the mental capacity, the ambition and the strength to become someone worthy, someone relevant in society - And that can only be done if she manages to break free from the invisible bird cage she was locked in.

Eighteen years. It will be eighteen years in January that she's had to go through all this. Things had to stop, forever. Katrina was at her breaking point - She was dead set on escaping this endless purgatory loop and get the hell out of this place. Her mind was set. She was going to start living her life.

As the grandfather clock chimed midnight, Katrina hopped off her bed and kicked the luggage hidden behind the wardrobe; She threw inside a few comfortable dresses and all of her brother's secret science books. Once her bag was done, she took all the bed sheets and the rest of the dresses, tying them together, and to the edge of the bedpost and threw it off the window, climbing down, like in the story of Rapunzel.

The perk of living in London was that she knew exactly who she could go and ask for help - The notoriously strange Undertaker. After about two or three hours of walking though the dark, cobbled streets of this wretched city, and thankfully successfully avoiding all the strays, hobos and the drunks, she was able to find her way in front of the Undertaker's parlor. She firmly knocked on the door and trying the handle, she nonchalantly stepped inside, hearing the familiar eerie giggle echoing through the pitch black room.

Waking up in the Raymond Manor isn't exactly the most eventful, or even cheerful activity one can do. Katrina, of all people, would know after all.  Her personal maid gets into her room, wakes her up, helps her dress - As though she's incapable of doing so herself! The audacity! - Then she is served breakfast, which consists of the same type of tea every damn day, and some bread and jam, or some scones. Nothing too much, of course, or her silhouette is going to get ruined.

Once the morning routine is over, and she's had her make up and hair done, she begins her classes. Not that she has the privilege of choosing what lessons she could do, otherwise, she'd have loved to pursue her love and passion for Science and Medicine. Ever since she's found her brother's hidden book stash, she's been obsessed with learning more. Alas, she was forced to study arts, languages and lady mannerism... 

Of course, she was of the impression that each and every skill, no matter how little or insignificant, should prove useful, in one way or another; Though her parents simply wish her to appear aesthetically pleasing for her future husband. She's never going to be allowed to get a job, she's just supposed to marry her fiance soon and start popping out an endless string of heirs. Exist simply for the sake of others. Being born in a noble family where only appearances and wealth matter - A privilege for the men, a curse for the women. Lo and behold the blood purity of the Raymond family!

All day, every day, the very same, maddening things. Violin class. German class. French class. Latin class. Painting class. Manners class. Dancing class.

Katrina was at her wit's end. Her parents being unnecessarily strict wasn't helping either - They were of the belief that the sole role of a woman was to bring heirs into this world and look pleasing to her Lord Husband's eye.  Katrina strongly disagrees. She had the mental capacity, the ambition and the strength to become someone worthy, someone relevant in society - And that can only be done if she manages to break free from the invisible bird cage she was locked in.

Eighteen years. It will be eighteen years in January that she's had to go through all this. Things had to stop, forever. Katrina was at her breaking point - She was dead set on escaping this endless purgatory loop and get the hell out of this place. Her mind was set. She was going to start living her life.

As the grandfather clock chimed midnight, Katrina hopped off her bed and kicked the luggage hidden behind the wardrobe; She threw inside a few comfortable dresses and all of her brother's secret science books. Once her bag was done, she took all the bed sheets and the rest of the dresses, tying them together, and to the edge of the bedpost and threw it off the window, climbing down, like in the story of Rapunzel.

The perk of living in London was that she knew exactly who she could go and ask for help - The notoriously strange Undertaker. After about two or three hours of walking though the dark, cobbled streets of this wretched city, and thankfully successfully avoiding all the strays, hobos and the drunks, she was able to find her way in front of the Undertaker's parlor. She firmly knocked on the door and trying the handle, she nonchalantly stepped inside, hearing the familiar eerie giggle echoing through the pitch black room.

"Oh dear, who do we have here? Are you not aware of the time~?" one by one, small candles started lighting up, revealing the creepy man and his large grin, standing inside a vertical coffin. "I believe it is exactly 3:15am, sir." Katrina answered, straining her eyes to read the dark clock from the parlor. "Is it not quite late for a young lady, such as yourself, to be going into creepy shops?" the Undertaker hummed in amusement. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but being 3 IN THE MORNING, I believe it is too EARLY." she put emphasis on the words, cheekily letting the luggage fall to the ground. "And with what purpose have you come here, in my humble parlor, at this early hour, much before the opening time?" the man quickly corrected himself, not without the complimentary chuckle.

"I need your help and I think you are the sole person in this disgusting, God-forsaken city, that could help me." the girl replied, slowly prowling around.

"You think, or you hope?" the man ticked her off. "A bit of both, Undertaker. A bit of both. So will you hear me out?" she couldn't help but sigh in annoyance at his antics. "I am listening... With a condition." Undertaker said. "By all means, do take a seat, my coffins are quite comfortable. I believe we have quite the interesting conversation ahead. It would be rude of me to keep a lady standing." "Why, thank you for your hospitality." as instructed, she sat opposite of him - A small table positioned between them. "You want to know why am I here, correct?" the man's grin only widened. "I am not certain you remember, but when I was young, my elder brother died of a disease and my parents allowed me to choose his coffin. Nevertheless, the day I came here, I became fascinated with... Science." as she spoke, she found herself standing up and walking around the parlor again. She noticed a skull on a shelf, and she picked it in her palm, stroking it tenderly. "After his death, I started studying my brother's books that he kept hidden under his bed. He, much like myself, was also science-orientated." "A noble woman, with all the commodities in the world, except for her freedom, thus, having nothing really at all. What a sad life to live, little bird." the Undertaker's comment made her snap a glare his way. "We are at the end of the 19th century and the role of the female gender is null. Birth-giving is not a relevant role. Looking pleasing is not a relevant role. And this is not normal at all! If the true capacity of all women that have to suppress their intelligence would be developed, then the world would have been much, much farther than it is now." Katrina exclaimed, returning to her seat on the coffin. "And you came here so that you -" the man was cut off immediately by the girl speaking. "So that I could help you with autopsies and -" but she, too, had her sentence continued. "Be able to study science at your leisure." the man seemed incredibly delighted at the story he was told. "I would be glad to welcome you as my new apprentice, then, my lady." "Katrina. Just Katrina is fine. After all, I'm not exactly a noble lady anymore. I am a simple, runaway girl. A pariah, if you will." the red head scoffed, looking away with disdain. "Any girl is a lady, my dear." the Undertaker corrected her. "Suit yourself. Just let me tag along. I require no payment. I just need to survive somehow." she cleared her throat, only to see the man waltzing to her coffin and pull her into his chest, petting her hair as though she was some kind of animal. "Worry not, child, for I will take care of you, for as long as you need." though Kat hasn't felt this awkward and uncomfortable in a long time, she had to admit, it was not a bad feeling altogether. "You have my thanks. And now... Regarding the famous Jack the Ripper case... What do you know?" Kat could feel a low rumble erupting from his throat, hauntingly resounding through the place. "What do you want me to know, little songbird?" he asked, his long nails tilting her chin up to face him. "Everything." with a creepy laugh, he lead Katrina to a back room, where different corpses were laid, and despite the late hour, they started her first official lesson in anatomy and forensics. "How greedy you are, my little songbird - I might just confuse you with a magpie." the man laughed at her.

"Either way, you would be copiously wrong. After all, Undertaker, I am a fox, not some silly bird." she harshly corrected him, not without a hint of condescence.

"You may wish to reconsider some day, my dear. The Queen is known to often indulge in fox hunts, after all; She loves her fox-fur clothes." he taunted her. "And noblemen are especially fond of pretty birds who can sing pretty melodies on command."

"You better cease with your ideas, Undertaker, unless you want me to rip your throat out and take over your business." she gripped him by the neck of his robes, roughly pulling her down to her level.

"You are so full of life, my dear lady - I can only hope that you will have plenty of years ahead of you to remain just as lively." hearing his ominous implication, Katrina bruskly pushed him away, though she eyed him suspiciously before crouching down to the farther-most coffin, waiting for the first lecture.

Until the Sun rose up on the sky, Katrina listened intently to every word that the Undertaker was speaking - Those which regarded the medical topic, at least - Though she soon found her eyes closing against her will, and it was decided that she should rest for a while, before the parlor opens and she gets to be shown how to help him business-wise also.

During her sleep, however, Kat had a flashback she never thought she'd remember again. It featured her brother, in his bed, before the night of the funeral. That night, she sat in a chair, near his bed, holding his cold hand, and weeping. It was getting colder and colder, especially since the room window was open and the winter's harsh breeze was whipping her skin.

However, when she got up to close the window, a most peculiar individual in a suit, with a gardening tool in his grasp, was in front of her, looking sternly, with piercing, glowing green eyes, of a shade much brighter than her own. They looked mystical... Otherworldly.

"Ex-Excuse me, sir... But may I ask... Who are you?" the little child gulped, trying her best to stay brave in front of the intruder. "My name is William T. Spears and I am here to collect your brother's soul." the man spoke in an impersonal, firm voice. "What do you mean? Who are you? No... WHAT are you?" she asked, peering straight into those supernatural orbs. "A Shinigami." he replied simply, taking out a small red book and rapidly flipping the pages, until he reached a certain profile. "Katrina Raymond, seven years of age, born on January 3rd." he read from the book. "You are about to witness your brother's cinematic record. Have these last memories as a divine gift." William readied the branch snapper. "Now stand aside, young one."

Scuttering behind him, William collected her brother's soul by impaling his dead body and before her very eyes, Katrina could see her brother's memories - With herself, with their parents and dog, with his friends from Weston college... And some other scenes that she couldn't quite understand.

"Remember this moment, young one. Your brother was unable to escape the grips of fate... Perhaps you may." William went to leave through the window, but just before he left, Katrina rushed to grab his waistcoat and made him turn to her. "Mr. William? Tell me the truth of my brothers death - Please! What did he die of? They said it's a disease... B-But I'm not sure how true that is; He didn't have that illness's symptoms!! I suspect foul play!" the Shinigami looked down at her tearful eyes, and something about her naive innocence, associated with the truth of her brother's death, made his heart break. He hated to admit, but children have always been a weakness of his. He looked at Katrina with pity, a pondering look on his face and said a single word, before looking away and leaping out of the room. "Disease". and thus remained the finality of her brother's epilogue.

As Katrina woke up, recalling the dream she just had, her vision still blurry; She stretched her arms - Only to see a food tray being shoved in front of her, and a grinning Undertaker, awfully jovial. "Good afternoon, little ray of sunshine~" "I didn't expect this-... But uh... Good afternoon to you too?" the girl muttered, her voice still hoarse from her sleepiness, only to straighten immediately. "Afternoon?! Is it afternoon already? Undertaker, you should NOT have allowed me to sleep in so much! I'm going to become a slob!" "Sleep is most important for a young lady like yourself to gain her strength - Surely, you know that already, don't you?" his reply only made her glare at him. "I will get ready as fast as I can and we can start working." she snatched the tray from his hands and began eating. "So diligent~! Yes, yes, we will have a most interesting day ahead! I strongly believe so!" with a melodic hum, the man waltzed out of her room, allowing her the required time to enjoy her routine.

After she finished eating and prepared for the day, Katrina dressed up in a simple, comfortable green dress; She wished she had black dresses - Alas, she owned only colours to make her look pretty, but nothing practical. As she idly started working on an autopsy, she unconsciously found herself muttering, again and again "Cyno... Matrix..."  trying to relate it to something... Anything that makes sense... The memories she was shown that night...

The constant murmurs seemed to attract the man's attention, as he cocked his head to the side quizzically. "Are you saying something, dear?" "Oh, I apologise for disturbing you. I just remembered a past memory from my childhood and I'm trying to understand something that makes little sense... If, at all." she sighed softly, ruffling her hair, which was simply let down, for once. "And what would that be?" the Undertaker asked, propping his elbows on the counter and resting his chin on his hands. "Do you believe in Shinigami, Undertaker?" she abruptly turned to face him. "Like in those old stories?" he giggled lightly. "I know it sounds stupid, but I think I met one, when my brother died." Katrina sighed, annoyed with herself. "He somehow came in the room through the window... The third floor window, mind you... With a branch snapper or something... And he said he was there to collect my brother's soul." Undertaker's smirk seemed to grown "Are you sure you weren't dreaming, my dear? Might have been your young self's way of coping with the shock of losing your beloved brother~."  "I don't think that's the case. He told me to remember that moment... It couldn't have been a coping defense mechanism - I have always been a rational person!" Kat exclaimed with mild frustration. "That sounds fantastic~. Anything else about this individual?" his voice almost sounded teasing. "I can't remember much... But he wore glasses and had bright green eyes... They looked as if they were glowing... Nothing humanly... And when he impaled my brother, I saw his memories! Yes, that's right - I was in his memories too! It had to be right. He said it was a... Um... Cyno... Matrix record? Cynomatrix... Is that even a word?" she tried to explain, though the puzzle pieces weren't fitting together. "Or perhaps... A Cinematic record~?" Kat's eyes widened comically at the sound of the key word. "Cine... Matic... Cinematic re- YES! You are correct! It was a Cinematic Record! Now the word makes much more sense!" she exclaimed in shock. "The story sounds stunning, but how are you going to prove it is true?" the man giggled at her, waltzing from behind the bar, and to her spot. "I can only try and pursue it somehow, correct?" she spoke firmly. "Dreams do come true, if you pursue them and fight for them." he answered enigmatically. "Do you know what else I've been dreaming of; Though, I think that finding a Shinigami would be far easier to accomplish than this one..." she muttered softly, only to earn a hum to continue. "You must have heard of Weston College, haven't you? The best College in the country?" "Oh yes, I see where you're going with this. You wish to attend this College, which would help greatly with your career, am I correct?" her cheeks warmed up slightly, serving as a positive answer. "I will see what I can do, dearie~." before Kat could answer him, the sound of the door bell softly chiming was heard, indicating the arrival of customers. "Do join us, my dear! Let me make my entrance though - Follow right behind!" "... Of bloody course..." like a child, he hid in a coffin, his eccentric, creepy giggle resounding through the whole parlor.

Sighing, and with her hands soaked in blood, Katrina kicked the door to the front of the house open, glaring at her boss. "Glad you joined us, dearie~!" he chirped, only to see his little apprentice march up in front of him and use his grey robes to wipe away the blood. "You are a menace, Undertaker." she scoffed, leaning back on the counter, her arms crossed. "Manners, my dear. This is Earl Phantomhive, I believe you know him by now." Katrina immediately snapped her head to look at the young, frowning boy with an eyepatch. "Phantomhive? Are you, really? Queen's Chihuahua and all that?" she found herself asking. "It is EARL Phantomhive for you." the young boy snapped at her like a brat. "Undertaker, since when did you employ such uncouth workers?" "Little Earl, Little Earl, don't insult my little fox, she might bite your nose in your sleep!" the man cackled in amusement. "That's right, Ciel - Didn't you know, Noble Women are not allowed to work, therefore, I'm just a simple apprentice." Katrina smirked down at him. "Who in the world are you?" Ciel asked perplex. "Don't you remember Katrina, Ciel? Daughter of the High Court Judge, Duke Nicholas Raymond - You used to play together when she was courted by Edward, right?" the Earl's aunt hummed in amusement. "Angelina, you have no idea how great it is to be seeing you again." Kat offered her a smile before pulling her into a familial embrace. "I am surprised they let you out of the house. How did you manage?" Madame Red smirked down at the girl. "I ran away, of course. I wanted to pursue a medical career, much like you. There are only so many paintings one can do before they go crazy." she chuckled casually. Whenever they would all meet up, Angelina was always the one she loved spending time with - Her, Rachel and Vincent, of course. "You should have come over to stay at mine. A funeral parlor is no place for a beautiful young lady like yourself to be at." Angelina whined playfully. "It's quite alright - I actually think it's a great place for me. I'm enjoying my stay here." the girl smiled back. "No wonder the Queen's letter mentioned a certain fox. That was you. I had no idea you became one one Her Majesty's companions." Ciel grunted in response. "Actually, I'm quite sure I was a fox before you become a puppy." Kat smirked down at him. "Now, I believe you should be introducing your companions. I don't recall you parading yourself with a young butler - Unless Tanaka somehow found the Fountain of Youth."

"Tanaka is home, with the other servants. This is Sebastian." Ciel threw a dismissive hand towards the butler.

Sebastian bowed at the lady, holding her hand and placing a kiss on it. "It is an honor, my lady."

"Likewise." as the man rose his head, Katrina noticed the magenta flash of his cat-like eyes, glowing for just a split second. "Lovely eyes." she found herself sharply looking in his eyes - He, also, though there was this hidden glint of mischief that seemed to be taunting her.

"And this is Lau, of the KunLun trading company." Ciel pointed towards his Chinese companion.

"Nǐ hǎo, wǒ měilì de húdié." the man smiled enigmatically at her, bowing slightly at the waist, though with some hint of royal vibes.

"I'm not sure what you said, but I hope you called me beautiful." Kat chuckled lightly, doing a little courtesy for him, before addressing the whole group. "You are here because of the Ripper thing, right?"

"Precisely~. Everyone's been scared because of the disturbance. But this isn't the first time I've handled this kind of thing." Undertaker hummed, as though he was high on opium.

"Not the first time? And what do you mean by that?" Madame Red found herself inquiring.

"It happened before. A case where prostitutes were killed. In fact, the way they were killed was similar too." Undertaker allowed his words to linger like dripping poison.

"The police didn't fuss about it much. Quite ignorant, if you ask me. Speaks volumes about how safe we are, as a society." Katrina scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"But the murdered prostitutes had all something in common." the parlor owner continued speaking.

"Something in common...?" Ciel found himself repeating in a voice barely above a murmur.

"What is it?" the butler asked in his master's stead.

"Well now, I wonder what. I wonder what it is indeed. Is it bothering you?" as Undertaker dragged his sentences, Kat couldn't help but pinch the bridge of her nose, remembering that he also asked for a price for her staying over, and though it was seemingly paid, she wasn't sure how exactly she managed to entertain him. She was going to have a blast.

"I see, so that's how it is. You're very good at business, Undertaker. So? How much money do you want?" Lau was the first to hum, realising the hidden meaning behind those words.

"Oh, no, no money here, I assure you. This buffoon isn't shallow enough to beg for this capitalistic kind of currency." the master of the place found himself laughing, throwing his arms up into the sky before draping them around his little apprentice's petite body, forcefully pulling her into his chest and petting her hair as though she was some kind of house cat.

"You've only just arrived, and you know me so well! I might as well cry!" he giggled, swinging the poor, dizzy girl back and forth. "You see, young Earl, I have no interest in the Queen's money! Instead, there is something, a single requirement that I have -" the man threw Kat back towards the coffin; though he might have miscalculated how hazy her vision was, as she got the heel of her boot caught in the corner of the coffin they were sitting on, and the lady unceremoniously found herself falling to the ground with a little squeal. "A FIRST RATE LAUGH!" the Undertaker was absolutely flying with euphoria, whilst his poor apprentice was dexterously caught in the rescuing arms of her black butler knight.

"That is no way to treat a lady, Undertaker. I will have to ask you to be more attentive when it comes to Miss Raymond's well-being." Sebastian mildly scolded the parlor owner, though he was in a completely other world. Despite all this, Kat didn't quite mind being held by the butler - In fact, the way his baritone voice spoke so close to her ear almost sent a shiver down her spine.

"That is quite alright, I suppose I have to get used to his antics, sooner rather than later. Thank you for the rescue, Sebastian... And do call me by my name, if you will." with a little help, the red head was able to sit back on the coffin, though keeping the safe distance from the madman.

"As you wish, my lady." the raven haired man nodded at her with a simple smile.

"Well then, if entertainment is needed, let me handle this. The sleeping Tiger of the Shanghai's New Year party, also referred to as my soul! This should satisfy you! Do you like it?" all the people inside of the parlor blinked in complete confusion at his attempt at... Whatever he wanted to say. It failed tragically either way. "It looks like he still won't talk, Lau. It can't be helped then. I, Madam Red, a Beauty of High Society, shall make my appearance now! If I ask him, he'll be sure to tell us!" though Madame Red boasted about her social butterfly status and proceeded to spew around all the gossips and dirty jokes that she knew, for at least an hour... Her attempt ended also in complete failure, and Undertaker was compelled to plaster both their mouths shut. "That was tragic." Katrina sighed, shaking her head in disdain. "Honestly, you will have to do much better than that if you want to get a laugh out of a man who serenades every cadaver he meets" "Come on, Earl, I've helped you many times in the past, can't you be nice to me just this once?" Undertaker whined, his fingers wiggling as long nails almost scraped as his soft cheeks.  "It can't be helped." Sebastian spoke firmly, raising the sleeves of his coat. "S-Sebastian?!" gasped out his butler's name in shock. "It's the butler's turn now?" Undertaker hummed, a grin on his face. "Everyone, please step outside for a moment." the raven haired man instructed his companions. "You must absolutely NOT peek inside." "Entertain us, O, the saving grace of the little, helpless puppy." Katrina smirked provoking at him, crossing a leg over the other and leaning forward, unmoving from the coffin she was sitting on. The butler cleared his throat, and with a straight face, he spoke out his joke. "The strangest kind of table is the onion." said he, in that mild, alluring voice of his. "...The onion... A table? Are you high on opium, Mr. Butler? That simply cannot be." Katrina scoffed at him, rather amused at his attempted. "Oh, but yes it is, my lady. It is a vegetable." using the right emphasis to show off the validity of his previous claim, Undertaker found himself falling off the counter and laughing so hard that the whole parlor shook. Katrina, also, couldn't help but look away and hide her shocked laugh - How could a joke so bad make one laugh so good? "... I am appalled and impressed at the same time. You have my respect, Sebastian." the man bowed deeply in front of the lady, though she didn't miss the split second smirk and yet another flash of those bewitching eyes of his. "I am most honoured, My Lady." 

As Sebastian gracefully invited everyone back to the parlor, Katrina had to get up and attempt to calm down the mortician, albeit, with the use of some dog biscuits, as she started telling them the story of the Jack the Ripper victims.

"Based on that laughter, I can only assume Undertaker was satisfied with the payment, therefore, it is safe for me to disclose the research I've done." Kat cleared her throat, a somber serenity taking over her. "All of the victims were female prostitutes and all of them had a missing, representative organ. If you haven't guessed by now, it's the uterus. It's been carefully taken away. In fact, I would say, it was accurately, surgically removed." "That is correct, my dear. Recently, this kind of 'guests'  have been rapidly increasing. Their whole bodies dripping with blood, it's made me very busy. I am, however, thankful to my little apprentice." Undertaker hummed euphorically.

"The pleasure is all mine, by all means. If I may continue on this report and add up to the last fact of being 'carefully' taken away, one might conclude that, despite being few people on the streets at night, the culprit has at least the minimum anatomical knowledge, to perform such a clean and specific organ removal, in the pitch black of the back-alleys they were found in." the apprentice continued on.

"Very well, little fox, you did your homework well~. Young Earl, if he had to act on such a short time, he should slit the throat first and proceed to cut the stomach. It's easier to succeed this way. He will keep committing crimes, unless someone stops him. Can you stop him? The Notorious Noble - Earl of Phantomhive." the mortician taunted the little earl.

"The world of darkness has the world of darkness' rules. He wouldn't murder random people for no reason." Ciel concluded simply.

"A serial killer always follows a certain pattern. Should be easy enough to catch him." Kat nodded her head in solemn agreement.

"Then, want to join in the fun of one of the Queen's underground pet? I doubt you've done any legwork your entire life." the chihuahua smirked at the surprised little fox.

"Oh, you want me to join?" with the silent excitement and joy of a child, her sparkling green eyes shifted towards the Undertaker, awaiting for his approval.

"Take care of my little fox, Earl. Bring her home safe. I wouldn't want to see her becoming some ugly noble lady's fur scarf." the comment only made the girl glare at him and get to her feet, turning her back to the man.

"Foxes have rabies, Undertaker. We live together now - I would sleep with both eyes open from now on, if I were you." despite her threats, the man found himself laughing copiously once again.

"Sorry for intruding, Undertaker. Let's go."

With Ciel bidding farewell to the mortician, Katrina was guided to the carriage, where the group discussed the issue of the 'Season' that just barely begun, and how most people were perfectly arrived in the capital. Doctors, medical students, physicians and all kinds of aristocrats were included in the list. The butler affirmed he will be doing a report on all potential suspects. "Are you going to suspect me also, butler~?" the red head smirked challengingly at him. "If you do, I shall be awaiting for an alibi-search soon." Sebastian merely hummed, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards, and with a nod of acknowledgement, he... Jumped out of the carriage. Though everyone was concerned for the butler's life, Ciel simply smirked, shrugging him off. Clearly, this butler was nothing human - He couldn't be, could he?

And exactly as she suspected, by the time they arrived home, Sebastian had both prepared tea and managed to write out an endless list of all the suspects and had their alibis verified. Oh, Ciel, what have you gotten yourself into, Katrina wondered, raising a quizzical, suspicious eyebrow at the disconcerting eyebrow at the man. All the ignorant idiots were fooled by his charm - Yet none was taking into account that nothing he was doing fell into the realm of the human power. "I'm just one HELL of a butler." he said, alluding a rather bizarre emphasis. Hell. Demons were from Hell. Could he, also? Certainly, if her dream of Reapers had any kind of validity, perhaps, angels and demons existed also, and roamed their earth, disguised as humans. A true wolf in sheep's clothing.

Serving their afternoon tea and snacks, Sebastian pointed out the only possible suspect on the list, none other than the Viscount of Druitt. Hearing that familiar name, Katrina found herself choking on a piece of scone. "Now that you mention it, I do recall he's been into black magic recently." Madame Red recalled some rumours. "Black magic? People actually believe in that rubbish?" Kat seemed genuinely surprised. "Still, he is suspected of carrying out some sort of ceremony at that "Secret party" . And to use those prostitutes as altar sacrifices?" Lau asked. "Sacrifices don't require you to be careless with the body, do they?" the girl asked, before stealing a glance at the butler. "Is he trying to summon a demon or what? Don't they like virgins?" just as expected - Or, perhaps, it was intended - Sebastian stole a glance at her as soon as she mentioned the demons, yet he remained silent. "Don't be absurd." Ciel reproached her. "At the nineteenth hour today, Viscount Druitt will be hosting a party. The seasonal period will be ending soon. I believe tonight will be the best time to investigate." Sebastian explained to them. "And I know just how to get everyone inside." Katrina's mischievous smirk seemed to cheer everyone up.

Thanks to the resourcefulness of not only Ciel, but Madam Red also, Katrina was able to get dressed in a beautiful green dress of a similar shade as her eyes; Her make up was light and feminine, though the eyeshadow and red lips were enough to bring out the subtle sultriness of her graceful features.  In spite of all the uncomfortableness she had to endure, as she was never one for social gatherings and parties to begin with, there was little she could do to stop her laughter once she got to see Ciel being laced up in a corset by his butler and suffering the same agony women do daily. Not only that, but that  pretty pink dress was rather adorable on him, and that wig went perfect with his eyes also. The poor boy could only glare and snap at his once friend for her pointed comments, though he was unable to retaliate much.

It was rather unfortunate for him, really, and Katrina wouldn't have quite minded being the bait herself - Alas, the Viscount's own nephew was her fiance, so of course he knows her well enough as it is. By the time they reached Druitt's mansion, she could only let out an amused breath, as old memories, all of them good, resurfaced. Her fiance was a good man, and out of every possible suitor, she was glad he was chosen... Especially as Edward was rather boring and too shy for his own good.

Undertaker would have received a life-payment watching poor Ciel struggling with the dress though, and it would be just as fun once she returns home and narrates the whole ordeal.

With Katrina in the lead, informing the guard of who she was, and the retinue she brought along, there was little room for questioning. She flashed a mischievous smirk towards her companions before stepping inside the manor and subtly looking around for the fair haired noble man.

Alas, as Madame Red and Lau dispersed themselves to blend within the crowd, the trio was left to fend for themselves once they heard the familiar squeal of delight that Lizzie, Ciel's fiancee, let out as she was gazing in awe and gushing about everyone, and unfortunately, discovered them, getting excited about their pretty outfits.

Evidently, if she were to get too close to Ciel, she'd recognise him, disguise or not, thus, Kat had to stand behind and distract her.  With a nod acknowledgement towards the two, she sighed and walked towards the blonde girl, entertaining her a bit.

"Ah, Kat, your dress is so cute! And you look sooo pretty! I'm so glad to see you again!" Lizzie squealed, barely able to contain herself in one place. "Thank you, Lizzie, I'm happy to see you as well. It's been a while, hasn't it?" she hummed in agreement. "Too long!" the girl pouted adorably. "Soon, we should definitely meet again! I miss our short fencing spars!" she exclaimed happily. "And the tea parties!" the red head said. "Yes, definitely! It would be like old times!" Lizzie's sunshine happiness was contagious. "Certainly! If only Ciel and Edward would join us. Then again, neither can refuse a cute girl like you~." she winked at the blonde. "Oh, I'm looking forward to it! I'm sure my brother will be so happy to see you again, too!" Lizzie squealed in absolute delight. "So do I! Now, excuse me, dear, but I just saw someone I know and I'll go greet them. Enjoy the party~!" the two did their pretty courtesies to each other before taking off in different directions.

Picking up the pace, Katrina gracefully got behind the Viscount, tapped him on the shoulder and did a pretty courtesy to greet his relative by alliance. Once he turned to see what gorgeous lady was desperately seeking for his charming attention, he flashed a dazzling smile and did a courtesy back, picking her hand and placing a kiss on her fingers.

"Ah, young Kitten, you look gorgeous today! How lovely it is to see you!" Aleister's enigmatic smile was ever plastered on his face. "The pleasure is all mine, Viscount. You see, I came here with my dear friend who is not from around, and she really wanted to meet you. She is, if I might say, quite the lovely dove. I am sure you are going to love her company." Kat retorted a similar fake smile. "Oh~?" the blond smirked. "A young little bird, so eager to meet me? I am flattered! And where is she~?" his excitement sounded on the border of lechery. "Right there. The one dancing with her tutor." Kat purposely glued herself to the man, guiding his chin in the direction of Ciel, who was trying so hard to blend in and dance with Sebastian; Even potentially stop himself from puking from disgust. "Yes, quite lovely indeed, and so very graceful. Will you do me the honor of introducing us, my dear?" the low rumble of a satisfied hum generated the success of their mission. "Oh, of course, by all means." as if he could feel the boring eyes into the back of his head, Ciel turned his head, making contact with the red head, who gestured a wave for them to approach.

The Viscount, of course, being the charmer that he is, kissed Ciel's hand and complimented 'her'. "Quite fascinating. A lovely dancer, just like a robin." Katrina had to keep her smirk strongly out of control, and the tutor could see the way she was struggling to keep composed. It was quite endearing for one so supposedly sly to so easily break her vixen-like composure. "G-Good evening." Ciel tried his best impression of a girl's voice, though he found himself stuttering as he posed. "Please excuse her, she is quite shy." Kat placed her hand on the Viscount's shoulder. "Don't you mind it too much, though... I'm certain she's going to relax around you, once she gets to know you better." the emphasis on such well-chosen words were enough to make the Viscount smirk, dark plans already at the ready. "I shall thank you for bringing her along, you lovely Kitten." though there was something endearing about having such an adorable nickname based on her name, Katrina absolutely abhorred it when he was the one calling her so. "I believe you will both find each other's company quite... Intriguing. Adieu~!" with a giggle hidden behind the fan, the red head stepped away, allowing the two their much needed intimate, private moments, yet not without a wink addressed to the poor cross-dressing boy left behind in the hands of a lecherous pervert.

The plan was unfolding rather smoothly and Katrina watched, leaning back on the refreshments' table, as the Viscount dragged Ciel away to some other room, away from the banquet, all whilst she was savouring a rather expensive champagne. Alas, there was no water.

Like a silent phantasm, the butler made his way by her side, accompanying her. It would be rude manners to leave a lady unattended, and that went against his code of conduit. "Enjoying the evening, my lady?" "Hardly." Katrina scoffed at him. "Quite a pity, wouldn't you say?" the man slurred his words like a venomous snake. "At least someone is enjoying it." she found herself smirking. "Are you talking about the Young Master, or about his aunt?" Katrina had to shift her gaze to watch as Madame Red became to utmost center of attention and everyone was flocking around her like moths to the flame. "Both." she found herself chuckling. "Definitely both Young Mistresses." Seeing as there was little one could do at a formal ball, except for conversing and dancing, Sebastian bent his waist to courtesy her, extending a hand her way. "While we are waiting for the Young Mistress to return, shall we dance, my lady?"

Katrina looked down at his hand, them at his seducing visage, and she huffed in disdain. "How come a demon such as yourself finds the idea of mundane entertainment to be amusing?" "You make a valid point, my dear lady. However, it would, of course, prove most unfitting for someone of my dutiful position to appear to suggest, Heavens-forbid, any signs of disdain for what I believe is regarded as social etiquette on these fine occasions." the butler retorted immediately, yet not without using words that would combat her use of a devilish persona.

"Social etiquette? Surely you must be joking. Such repetitive displays are hardly 'social etiquette' so much as a dreary protocol. I, for one, tire greatly of it. No fool in his right mind could possibly consider this to be enjoyable." as to further prove her point, she unfolded her fan and flapped it lethargically, as though she was mocking Angelina herself.

The butler, however, couldn't help but smirk at the poison dripping from every word of dread she affiliated with the event. "Now now, I must advise that you pay attention to that sharp tone of yours. It's most unbecoming of a lady." "Says whom? This wretched social protocol again?" she let out a theatrically exaggerated sigh.

"Not at all. I simply fear that the Young Mistress may be expressing just enough surly, unladylike behaviour for the two of you. We are at a ball, after all." the man retorted with just as much content grace as before.

"As my current escort of sorts, I believe that the duty of keeping your lady happy  and entertained is all yours. Surely social protocol has to work at least somewhat in my benefit." Katrina shifted her gaze deep into his empty, void-like eyes; There was nothing that she could see, let alone a soul.

"Oh my, you're rather a tricky one, aren't you?" a cunning smile was plastered on his face, ever so charming.

"If you truly are the model butler you claim to be, I don't believe it should present a problem to you." she, too, retaliated with a similar kind of provoking expression.

"A problem? Oh, good heavens, no. A challenge, perhaps. And my, how I do like a challenge." Katrina couldn't help but let out an empty half-laugh.

"For a demon, you jump quickly at preaching about benevolence and heaven's grace, when you're nothing but an evil wretch. How very amusing of one of your dreary position, having to pretend to be a human, when you're anything but. A slave, doing every bidding of a child and his obnoxious whims." she chuckled, her words though sounding like honeyed mead, were frozen and cutting.

"I believe I have already warned you not to unleash that cheeky tongue of yours, my lady. One never knows what they are up against." the man's face leaned closer to her own, breathing in her bewitching scent, teasing himself with just the lingering caress of the ghost of her soul.

"And if I do? Are you going to punish me, Sebastian? Bite my tongue and make me cry?" she approached him boldly, to the point that, if only she knew, she could sense the sweet perfume of death surrounding him. If only she knew how close to the truth she was, as her lips were brushing his own at almost an atomic level, so close, yet so far away, teasingly far away. "My, how I do like a challenge." and mimicking his own words, Katrina abruptly turned on her heel and walked out of the mansion, missing the way his magenta eyes flashed demonically, or that lascivious, thirsty smile that played on those tempting lips.

"Little kitten wants to play, how very endearing." he found himself musing. "As my lady wishes."

Katrina left the party before finding out the epilogue of the mighty quest they had embarked on, yet the journey back home was silent, save for the sound of hooves against the cobbled stone streets of London, and the wheels turnings painfully harsh, all the way back to Undertaker's parlor, where she was greeted with the usual grin.  She hasn't even greeted him with words, save for a simple nod of acknowledgement, as she rushed up the stairs to change into something practical and wash away the make up that no doubt was going to cake soon on her skin. There was one thing alone that she loved more than anything, and that was the practical work she was doing with the mortician, alongside studying her science books. It was, by far, the only thing that could still get her excited... Although, the additional arrival of a certain enigmatic butler that may or may not fall in the realm of the supernatural was, without a doubt, receiving an honorable mention, if he was capable of getting her pulse rise and entertain her as well as he performed at the ball.

Once she was finally dressed in her comfortable nightgown, she returned to the autopsy room, only to notice a new victim on the table. "Enjoyed the night, dear?" She could only glare at him. "Hardly... Parties are just dull. Here is where I truly belong. True bliss comes from learning, not from exchanging sugar coated words behind a fan, wearing a corset so tight that you risk fainting." "The night is still young, my dear~." the Undertaker giggled at her, informing her that this, indeed, was another victim of Jack the Ripper, and they had a lot of work to do.

That night, as they did the autopsy on the new victim, discussed different theories and discovered her new passion for Astronomy and Ophthalmology - She told him about the newest discovery, from a Parisian scientist who created glass membranes that were placed on the eyes, serving not only an aesthetic role, but replacing the ugly glasses that people had to wear. Still, it couldn't be comfortable, wearing such large glass contacts on your eyes, and Katrina wanted to revolutionise this idea and create contact lenses from a softer material, perhaps more watery, like silicone; something that wouldn't inconvenience or hurt people, but also aid their sight. It was, however, in the middle of the autopsy, when Katrina looked up at the mortician and voiced a rather disconcerting truth. "This victim only proves my theory that the Viscount wasn't the real culprit. I warned Ciel before we left, but there was none better fitting - Or so they said. Surely, nobody wants the prime suspect to be their own aunt and last living relative, would they?"

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[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 19 - In the Garage

Summary: The boys get crafty...

Word Count: 690

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Older!Corroded Coffin (it's the late 90s...), the pure boys will be boys energy, car speak thats probably wrong

Note: Big thanks to @courtingchaos for being a trashcan with me while everyone was asleep.

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn’t start on Day 1, you can still join!

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

They’re too old for shit like this.

Hands down. Point blank, end of story.

Still, they’re walking through the Hawkins junkyard looking for all manner of bits and bobs for their newest “project."

They'd honestly all grumbled about it when Jeff told them his idea: building a go-kart. They all had work and other commitments and if they were going to do anything, they should be practicing and working on getting their demo tape finished.

Eddie was the one to hone in the vision, though; not a go-kart, think bigger. Think cooler. As much as he hated to say it, the punk rockers had something going with their rat rods and beaters.

“And it would look so fucking cool in a music video,” Eddie pointed out.

That was all the convincing they needed to build their own car.

Now, Eddie wouldn't consider himself an expert mechanic but he could get by. He'd worked on his van for years, Jeff's car too, and provided tune ups for neighbors every now and again.

But this? This was new territory. This would take time and work and extra sets of hands.

Gareth was the most precious about it, stating that his hands were the money, their bread and butter.

"You do realize all of us need our hands to play," Dave pointed out. "You're not special just because you're the drummer."

"I just don't wanna break my wrist again if it gets smashed under the two ton shitbox we're building, asshole"

"You'll be fine, just lift with your legs."

It also required more time spent back home in Hawkins, but it was a sacrifice they were willing to make.

“For the music video" became their mantra as they imagined themselves featured on MTV amongst flashing images and psychedelic colors as their songs blasted in the background.

Wayne was happy to see them, of course.

He got breakfast with the boys every weekend before they went on their little scavenging missions at the junkyard. From there, they spent the rest of their Saturday at the Emersons, turning the two-car garage that they used to have band practices into some strange auto shop where they learned to weld and install suspension and everything that wasn't just an oil change.

They even leaned into the shitbox-style that Gareth had criticized, and Jeff created a little experiment for making some of the pieces of metal rust and corrode intentionally.

They were Corroded Coffin, after all.

"Just don't get tetanus," Mrs. Emerson warned when she brought snacks out to them.

Unfortunately they all ended up needing a booster shot by the time all was said and done.

Little by little it came together.

They each had their specific vision, using other fictional cars as inspiration--the Monkeemobile and the DRAG-U-LA--but they agreed that they needed to keep with the theme, and in the end they built something reminiscent of a hearse.

A long body with panels that were probably poorly welded together, but they made the best of that, hoping that the Frankensteining of it would look more purposeful. In fact, they ended up naming their rod Frank because of it.

Steady hands from hours of painting mini figs led to pinstriping wherever they could. There were exposed pipes that looked like rib and an extra set of headlights that looked like angry, glowing eyes. Eddie even sacrificed one of his rings and soldered it to look like an earring. Absolutely badass.

"Ok but can it run?" Jeff asked nervously.

They'd gotten it started many times, tested to make sure everything worked...but now it was a real put-your-money-where-your-mouth-is moment of truth for them.

They piled in, strapping themselves into the makeshift, mismatched seats and then prayed that it would all go right.

"Wait!" Eddie cried out right before he was about to start it. "Frank needs a little good luck charm."

From around his neck he pulled his lucky guitar pick--one he caught as his first concert, the one that he'd worn for years--and he wound it around the rearview mirror.

"Alright boys," he breathed. "Here goes nothing."

They all held their breath as he turned the key in the ignition.

And with a vrooom Frank started with a purr.