#april x pearl

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 106 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: The Galactica Fashion Week Runway show went off without any major malfunctions. 

This Chapter: Welcome to the Afterparty! Networking, awkwardness, flirting, drunken shenanigans and a threat of homicide (or not…we certainly didn’t hear anything). 

***

There was a genuine smile on Fame’s face after the show closed, and Trixie could finally relax.

The show was a success. Everything was fine.

Of course, there would be the evaluations, the meetings, the press, the sales figures, but none of that really mattered if Fame wasn’t satisfied with what they had created.

In reality, Trixie just wanted to go home, to spend time with Katya, but he had promised Fame to hang around at the party, had even changed into a suit and tie for it, the jacket as always restrictive and uncomfortable. There were still plenty of shows, Raja and Fame would be leaving for Europe on monday at the latest, but as far as Trixie was concerned, his role at fashion week was fulfilled, at least until the late spring. 

Trixie took a sip from his champagne flute. He had hesitated before grabbing one, his sense of solidarity towards Katya’s sobriety even fiercer now that she was pregnant, but he was allowed a glass to celebrate a well-received collection. 

“Trixie!”

Trixie coughed, nearly choking on his drink as he came face to face with none other than Chad Michaels. Chad was one of New York’s most well known philanthropists, and therefore also someone that everyone in fashion had some sort of working relationship with, since she constantly needed new fabulous clothes. 

Chad was in her 60s, but that didn’t stop her from enjoying and experimenting with fashion, her dress for the night a gorgeous Galactica in beautiful cranberry red from the holiday collection.

“Just the man I needed to see!” Chad smiled as she grabbed his elbow, a slightly manic look in her eyes, heavy jewelry dangling from her ears, the scent of Chanel reaching his nose. “The closing dress. Has anyone claimed it? Please tell me I’m the first one!”

“Ah.” Trixie should have expected that Chad wanted to buy it. She was one of their most loyal customers, constantly photographed in their designs, and never shying away from praising the brand. Of course she would want Violet’s dress. Their newest designer had really outdone herself yet again. “I’m really sorry, but I think it’s an archival.”

The Galactica archive was something to behold, Ivy guarding it with her life, the room temperature controlled and as secure as any bank vault. Trixie hadn’t heard Raja make the final decision, but he had seen the look on Fame’s face, had felt the mood shift amongst the audience as they were moved by the piece.

It was too early to tell, but Trixie wouldn’t be surprised if fashion journalists would look back at this very show as a pivotal moment in Galactica’s history.

“I’ll be damned.” Chad sighed heavily. “I was hoping to wear it for the Met.”

“You haven’t decided on a dress?” The Met Gala was only three months away, the first Monday in May approaching at a worrying pace.

“I thought I did, but nothing truly inspires. You know how it is.”

Trixie nodded. Unsure of what to do, how to help, when he spotted exactly who he needed in the crowd.

“Violet!”

Violet turned, and he beckoned her over. She walked towards them, and as Trixie took in her bright eyes, the pink flush of her cheeks, he realized that she must be quite tipsy. He wondered if bringing her over was a mistake, but too late now. So instead he put an arm around her shoulders. 

“Violet is one of our most fabulous couture designers. She designed the closing look that you love so much.” 

“You did?” Chad asked, eyes widening as she took Violet in. 

“Yes.”

“Congratulations dear,” Chad said, lifting her glass in a toast. “You have a great talent.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Now, of course, I’ll talk to them about the dress you want, but if I can’t make that happen, what would you say to this extremely talented young lady whipping you up something custom for the Met Gala?” 

Violet turned to him, a panicked look on her face, gripping his jacket. “But, Raja-”

Shit. He hadn’t told her that Raja rejected all of her designs, or that he’d enlisted other concepts from Aurora, because he didn’t want to stress her out this week, not with everything she was dealing with being back in Fame’s office. And he certainly couldn’t explain all that right here, right now. He leaned in and spoke softly, under his breath. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll work it out. Just play along, we’re making a sale.” 

Violet nodded, and turned back towards Chad with a smile, who was looking at them with a delighted expression, hands clasped together. 

“Well that sounds divine! With your design genius and my impeccable taste, we’re bound to blow them all away!” Chad smiled, then glanced around before lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Granted, I do wish the theme was better, but…whatever Anna says goes, eh?” 

Trixie laughed, and looked over to see that Violet was giggling too. He relaxed a bit, feeling good, that Violet and Chad would at least get along fine, and that maybe this way she wouldn’t be too heartbroken about losing the Raja job. 

***

“Okay,” Symone exclaimed, lifting her arms in the air. “Who’s ready for the next round?!” 

“Almost,” Adore laughed, her arm draped loosely around Tati’s waist, pulling her in to say, “Have I told you how much I like your new roommates? They’re fucking fun.” 

“They are,” Tati giggled, “but not good at pacing themselves.” Tati lifted her cocktail, the vodka soda a model standard that Adore knew all too well. “I’m not even halfway done with this one, how are you ready for another round?” 

“These drinks are free and the booze is premium. Keep up!” Symone exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Right, Bim?” 

“One sec.” Bimini tossed back the last of her whiskey and set the glass down on the table heavily. “Alright, love. Lead the way.” 

“Yaaaas!” Symone pranced towards the bar, Bimini following close behind. 

Tati turned to Adore, shaking her head. “I thought we drank a lot, but those girls. They fucking drink. It’s a little worrying. I mean, we’re like, at work.” 

“You’re cute,” Adore laughed some more, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She’d been thoroughly annoyed when Bianca left, but maybe it was for the best. After all, now she had a chance to hang out with Alaska, Tati and her friends, and avoid the tense adult drama altogether. 

“Thanks.” Tati smiled, then lowered her eyes, biting her lip. 

“You okay, babe?” 

“Yeah…um…I should probably tell you something.” 

“Okay?” 

Tati closed her eyes and sighed. 

“Wait, what’s wrong?” Adore asked, squeezing her forearm. “You’re freaking me out!” 

“I’m sorry. It’s probably not that big a deal, just…so, when we were backstage, Pearl was walking around. Taking pictures and shit.” 

“Oh. Right.” Adore was trying not to think about her ex, wandering around the party, though of course she knew she was there. Maybe someday it would be possible to be in the same room as Pearl and ignore her presence entirely, but unfortunately, Adore hadn’t reached that stage just yet. 

“Anyway…” Tati played with the cuffs of Adore’s jacket, biting her lip. “She clearly didn’t recognize me. Or like, remember that we’d hung out like ten times while y’all were dating, because…um…” 

“She hit on you, didn’t she?” Adore asked. She could see how clearly uncomfortable Tati was, and wanted to end her suffering as quickly as possible. 

“Yeah. But I told her to fuck off! I mean, I didn’t quite say ‘fuck off,’ cause I was like, not trying to get fired, but she got the message loud and-”

Adore wrapped her arms around Tati and pulled her in for the biggest, warmest hug. 

“I love you so much.” 

“I love you too! You’re not mad, are you?” Tati asked, face tucked into her neck. 

“At you? Of fucking course not!” Adore pulled back, taking both of Tati’s hands in hers. “But…I mean, thank you, for being loyal and shit. But…do you like her?” 

“No! After how she treated you? I think she’s an asshole,” Tati said. 

Adore grinned and nodded, squeezing her hands. In spite of feeling absolutely self-righteous about it at the time, Adore had been feeling some creeping guilt about the way she’d handled things with Dahlia. Maybe the situation wasn’t as black and white as she’d first assumed. Especially after her recent conversations with Aja, and getting back into band practice. 

“Okay,” she said. “But…I mean, we’ve both moved on, obviously, so…if you did like her-”

“Bitch, she didn’t deserve you, which means she doesn’t deserve me,” Tati said, with a toss of her long, dark hair. 

Adore laughed, hugging her again. 

“I love you, so much.” 

“You said that already.” 

“I know. But I really do.” 

“Same,” Tati replied, lashes fluttering.

“Uhh…hi? Am I interrupting something?” asked a voice, and Adore turned to see Alaska, looking a bit awkward, albeit fabulous, in a leopard-print pencil skirt and cropped black cardigan with turquoise trim, appletini in her hand.   

“Lasky!” Adore broke away from Tatianna and threw her arms around Alaska, exclaiming, “Everyone looked amazing, omigod! Where have you been?!” 

“Hi, thanks! Uh, long story, one of the freelance artists had an issue, but everything’s fine now. Are you guys, um…” her eyes darted back and forth between Adore and Tati. 

“Yeah, yeah, we’re good. Just having a bestie moment. Obviously you know Tati. You’re the one responsible for her face looking like fucking perfection.” 

“Me and some stunning genetics, yup. Hello, Tatianna,” Alaska held out a hand for a strangely formal handshake. “Incredible work on the runway today.”

“Hi again,” Tati said, “Thanks.”

“So…I guess your sister’s not here?” Alaska asked.

“Don’t get me started,” Adore said, rolling her eyes. 

“Right. Well, please tell her I said hi. I was looking forward to chatting about the makeup shoot.” 

“Sure.” 

Alaska took a sip of her drink, arm wrapped around Adore’s waist. After a beat, Tati and Adore exchanged a look. The energy was slightly weird, but Adore couldn’t exactly put her finger on why. Luckily, before she could worry too much, Bimini and Symone returned with the next round and soon everyone was chatting, the awkwardness forgotten. 

***

“Hey, stranger…” 

Karl turned to see Detox, his hair a cool, wintery blue that matched his sport coat, a wicked smirk on his face. He’d meant to say hi to him before the show, but had gotten stuck in traffic and only arrived with moments to spare, sliding into his seat just in the nick of time, his heart pounding at the thought of incurring Fame’s infamous wrath. 

“Hi!” Karl pulled Detox in for a hug, kissing him on the cheek. “Why do you look like the cat that swallowed the canary? Got some big scoop?” 

“Well, sort of, but unfortunately, not one I can use,” he said. 

“Why not?” 

“The girls are still fighting,��� Detox said pointedly, raising his blue brows and shaking his head. 

“Ugh, that again?” Karl rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, Bianca shot out of here like a bat out of hell, the second the show was over. Made some sorry excuse about another commitment.” 

“It’s been literal months,” Karl said, “Don’t they have anything more interesting to worry about?” 

“Why don’t you ask Fame?” Detox suggested, nodding towards the woman of the hour, who was striding towards them, her cream-colored cape billowing behind her, a beautiful woman in pale pink at her side. Detox sipped his drink, giving Karl another gleeful sideways glance. A dare. 

Well, two could play that game. Karl pursed his lips and cocked his head, asking, “Why don’t you, tough guy?” 

Detox blinked, and then his smirk grew slightly as he turned towards the women. 

“Fame!” 

Fame stopped and turned to them, her typically placid hostess smile on her face. 

“Hello my darlings. How are you? Did you enjoy the show?” She walked forward, giving each of them air kisses. 

“It was divine as always,” Karl cooed, happy to hang Detox out to dry on this one.

“Yes, wonderful,” Detox said. “And-” 

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Karl Westerberg, Elite London.” Karl reached out to the young woman beside Fame, offering his hand, as Detox rolled his eyes, annoyed at the interruption. 

“Hi. Shea Coulee. I’m a journalist, doing a profile of Miss Fame for Vogue.” 

“Vogue, did you say?” Karl raised an eyebrow, just slightly. That certainly was interesting. “Fabulous.”

“Speaking of Vogue,” Detox cut in. “I noticed a certain someone seemed in an awful hurry to get out of here after the show.” 

“If you mean Ms. Wintour, she’s right over there,” Shea said, gesturing to the other side of the party, where Anna Wintour was talking to Grace Coddington and Vanessa Van Cartier.

“No, I didn’t mean Anna. I meant…another Editor-in-Chief we all know…” Detox said, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “And I was just wondering if you had any opinions, thoughts…feelings to share about that?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Fame said. “And I’m also sure that if you keep gossiping about things in this manner, that I have a way to kill you that won’t ever be traced back to me.” 

Fame smiled at him, the icy one with daggers in her eyes she reserved for special times. 

“You do realize that you just threatened homicide in front of a witness and a journalist, right?” Detox asked, eyes wide with feigned shock. 

“Doesn’t that tell you how absolutely sure I am that I won’t even be a suspect?” Fame asked, that smile back that should have terrified Detox more than it apparently did. It certainly terrified Karl. “Besides, Karl didn’t hear anything, did you Karl?” 

“Hear anything about what?” Karl asked quickly, playing along. 

“Traitor!” Detox muttered.

“I assume this conversation is off the record?” asked Shea. 

“Well,” Fame twirled the stem of her champagne glass, looking Detox up and down slowly. “Is Detox important enough that it matters?” 

Shea smirked, catching on perfectly, mimicking her supercilious gaze before saying, “Probably not.” 

“Good,” Fame answered. 

Detox opened his mouth as if to protest, but nothing came out. 

Fame patted him on the shoulder, smoothing down his lapel with a victorious smirk. 

“Bye, boys. Behave,” she said, turning on her heel and sashaying off, Shea right at her side. 

***

Bob technically wasn’t supposed to have a tray, but all it took was a little of his signature charm, some flirting with one of the servers, and bam! Now he had nearly 20 shots he could easily carry back to his table. On the way, he spotted little Violet, who looked like she’d had a few herself, all alone. 

“Violet!” he called, grinning. 

“Oh, hi!” she looked up and smiled back. She was wearing a black dress with long sleeves and a high neck, the outfit screaming unimportant assistant.

As he approached, he made sure the shots were balanced before slinging an arm around her. It was nice that Upstairs let them attend these parties in the first place. Bob sure wasn’t gonna be the one to give them a reason to stop. 

“Hey girl! What are you doing all by yourself? Where’s Sutan?”

“Working-“

“Boring!” Bob groaned and Violet giggled, a smile of her lips as she brushed some of her hair behind her ear. 

“Actually, I was just talking to-“

“Is it work related?”

“… Yes?”

“Then I don’t want to hear it tonight.” Bob looped his arm with Violet’s. “Come celebrate with us! Everyone wants to toast to you and that finale dress! You fucking slayed the house down!”

Violet laughed and rolled her eyes, following him to the table where some of the other designers were waiting, along with a few friends. 

Kade, especially, seemed thrilled to see her, squealing and throwing his arms around her, then immediately pressing a shot into her hand. Several rounds later, Sutan finally showed up, looking a bit frazzled and worried, but recovering nicely as soon as he saw that his girlfriend was all in one piece, safe and emotionally sound.

“Sutan!” Violet gave an uncharacteristic yelp of delight, throwing her arms around Sutan’s neck and placing sweet kisses all over his face, Sutan laughing at the unexpected shower of pecks.

“Heyyy, it’s the boyfriend of the year!” Bob said, looking up at him with a grin as Sutan pulled away from Violet, carefully unpeeling her.

“Hi, Bob,” Sutan smiled. “Nice to see you again.”

“Likewise.” Bob nudged Maxwell on the shoulder, knowing his boyfriend’s little crush was something that gave him endless embarrassment. “Maxwell, say hi to Sutan.”

“Stop it,” Maxwell hissed, then said, “Hi Sutan. Thank you for, um…the models.”

He cringed, and Bob patted him on the back. 

“I hope they were well-behaved. Especially the new ones,” Sutan said. 

“Oh, oh yeah, they did a great job,” Maxwell said. 

“There ya go, that wasn’t so hard,” Bob whispered. 

“I hate you,” Maxwell said under his breath, through gritted teeth, the smile still plastered over his face. He focused back on Sutan, offering, “Would you like to have a seat?”

“Oh, that’s alright, I’m just here to check up on Violet,” he said, passing her a drink. 

“Are we leaving yet?” Violet asked, confused.

“No, no. I still have laps to make. You just stay with your friends. I simply wanted to make sure you were alright and still here. I’d hate to have to sacrifice another set of shoes later.”

Violet’s eyes bulged open. “Sutan!”

“What?” Kade asked, confused. “Shoes? What’s he talking about?”

Bob perked up, deeply interested. What could have made her react so strongly? This sounded like a story he had to hear. 

“Nothing! He’s talking about nothing!” Violet said, shooting a death glare up at him making Sutan laugh.

Bob smiled to himself, lifting another shot to his lips. He’d keep that one under his hat for now; he could always grill Ms. Chachki later, maybe trade it for something once she was back in design. 

Kade leaned forward, resting his chin on his knee, gazing up at Sutan. “Has anyone ever told you that you have real Daddy energy?” he asked, lashes fluttering. 

Maxell immediately turned as red as a beet and elbowed him hard in the ribs. 

“OW!” Kade shrieked. “What?! He does!” 

“Thank you, Kade,” Sutan laughed, “I think?” 

“You’re welcome,” Kade said, leaning back, a smug grin on his face. He stuck his tongue out at Maxwell for good measure. 

Maxwell turned to Bob with a scowl, muttering, “Next time you bring him, don’t forget the shock collar.” 

“Have another drink, Cracks,” Bob said, handing over a shot.

“Um…” Violet looked up at Sutan, blinking slowly. “I actually think I have…had one or two more than I…um…” 

“Are you saying you want to take off?” he asked quietly. 

“Yes,” Violet said. She extended her arm and let Sutan pull her up into a standing position. 

The guys called out their farewells, with Kade sure to sneak in a “Bye Daddy!” before diving into Bob’s lap for protection from Maxwell. 

***

“Mmh,” Raja hummed against Raven’s lips, the two of them kissing. She knew it was the Galactica party, and that she should mingle as much as possible, but Raven was just utterly irresistible tonight.

There was nothing sexier than a Raven who glowed with confidence, who oozed the knowledge that she was hot, that knew she had done a good job, and few things boosted Raven as much as a fashion show gone well.

Raja moved, pressing Raven against the wall, holding her by the waist and kissing her neck, the scent of perfume filling her nose.

“Raj-” Raven moaned, cutting herself off, nudging her with her face. “Raja. My hair.”

Raja looked down, a strand of Raven’s hair caught in her watch, black and silver tangled together.

“Fuck.” Raja moved, which made Raven wince, a laugh escaping both of them as Raven grabbed her wrist and carefully freed her hair. 

“Sorry.” Raja wrinkled her nose, settling her hands on Raven’s hips, giving her a squeeze as she leaned in to kiss her again, when Raven suddenly pulled away.

“Violet!” Raven waved, her boobs pressing against Raja’s chest, her fiancée practically crawling over her shoulder. “Over here!”

Raja turned her head, watching as Sutan and Violet came towards them, her brother smiling and waving back. Violet was clinging to his arm, leaning on his shoulder, and Raja couldn’t help the stab of annoyance at the sight, Violet practically acting like she owned him.

They all greeted each other, Raven grabbing Violet and hugging her tightly as Sutan pressed a kiss against Raja’s cheek, his low rumble switching to Indonesian. 

[Congratulations] Sutan pulled back slightly, [on another job beautifully done.] He grinned, his eyes sparkling, delight dancing in his expression. [You up to split a cab?]

[Not sure I should leave yet. It’s sort of my company.]

[Oh yeah, and you’re doing so much networking over here], Sutan chuckled, wiping a bit of Raven’s lipstick off of the corner of her mouth. 

“Touché,” Raja smirked, allowing her brother to touch her. [Okay, let’s go home.]

“Ooh! I know that word!” Raven perked up, making both Raja and Sutan laugh. “We’re leaving, right?”

“I’m glad to see your language studies are finally picking up, Raven.” Sutan smiled. “It took what? Five years?”

“And for that…“ Raven reached out, taking Sutan’s tie between her fingers, “you can come get the jackets with me.”

Raja hadn’t expected Raven to volunteer, such a menial task something she usually let others do for her, her fiancée the exact spoiled brat Raja herself had created. 

She watched her walk away, but then, Raven glanced over her shoulder, a smoldering look in her eyes, a swing in her hips, and Raja realized that it was a tease just for her, leaving her behind with nothing for company but the throb of her clit.

That, and Violet, of course. 

Violet was leaning against the wall, apparently completely content not to speak, her normally shrewd eyes wandering listlessly over the crowd, head lolling back. She definitely wasn’t her typical put-together self. Too many drinks from the open bar after a day of running around on an empty stomach, she suspected. 

Raja didn’t think she hated Violet, but she didn’t have anything to say to her that wasn’t about work. 

Unless…

The Galactica party was - obviously - filled with beautiful women, and Raja was struck with an idea. She quickly swept the crowd, looking for someone, anyone, that stood out from the rest. This would be the perfect time to get her uncensored opinions. 

She tried to remember which model Violet had been enamored with during the casting—unfortunately, she was so annoyed in that moment that she forgot to make note of the girl, but she did seem to remember that it wasn’t one of the waif-y stick-thin ones, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t a white girl, either. 

She spotted someone just right, heading towards the bar. One of their influencers, a sexy Filipino girl with an ass to die for (especially in the thigh-high Louboutins she had on), her long, glossy curls bouncing as she walked. 

“What do you think of her?” Raja nudged Violet’s arm, pointing out the young woman with a subtle nod of her head.

“Marina Summers?”

Raja smirked, not really surprised that Violet knew the name of everyone at the party, even in this state. She was Fame’s assistant after all, so she had probably pored over the guest list, making sure to memorize it all, in case Fame needed it. 

“Yes, her. Cute outfit, right?”

“Mmm. I like her handbag. Very on trend right now,” she said, a slight slur in her voice. 

Raja rolled her eyes. Marina was wearing a low-cut, backless mini-dress that barely covered her ass, but of course her handbag was what Violet commented on. Raja decided to try again, gesturing to a stunning girl with rich, dark skin, an hourglass figure, and a fur coat hanging off her shoulders. All she wanted was for Violet to drunkenly comment on her body, her tits, something she could use.

“What about her? Isn’t she pretty?”

 Violet turned to Raja with a puzzled expression, blinking slowly. “Are you trying to find someone for a campaign?” 

Raja cringed inwardly, realizing what a nightmare it would be for her if Violet repeated their conversation back to Raven. She was disappointed that her plan had failed, but better that than to get in trouble. 

“Yeah. We’re…well, I had an idea to maybe bring some more faces on board for this year’s resort collection. Not just models, but maybe some people with real followings,” she said, covering quickly, adding, “I haven’t talked to Pearl or Alyssa though, what do you think?” 

“Oh, uhh…that’s not really my area.” 

“Fair enough.” Raja sighed, noting with some relief that Sutan and Raven were heading back their way. “Looks like you’re off the hook.”

***

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” Pearl said, winking. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the older woman purred, vodka oozing from her pores as she leaned in to press her lips to Pearl’s cheek. 

Pearl knew that working the room was an important part of her job. (Especially her current company, a brand manager who had been giving them free liquor and bartenders at every party for the past three years in exchange for a rather modest company credit on Galactica’s website.)

However, she’d been at it all evening, and it was starting to get a bit tiresome. Even professional schmoozers needed a break once in awhile. So as soon as she’d extricated herself from the woman’s clutches, she took a deep breath and looked around for a friendly face, maybe a coworker with whom she could chill for a few minutes, just to catch her breath. Luckily, a couple of designers were nearby. And to Pearl’s delight, she noticed that April was among them. 

She wondered why she’d never paid much attention to April previously. After all, she was definitely hot, and talented, and if their conversation earlier was any indication, she liked to play. Pearl fixed her face into a sad expression and approached the designers, looking as dejected as possible. 

“Good lord, Pearl!” Blu exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

Pearl heaved a dramatic sigh. “Yeah…”

“Oh my god…” April muttered, shaking her head.

“What’s wrong?” Gia asked.  

“I just, um…have been having a rough…” Pearl sighed again. 

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” April said. She laughed and took a sip of her drink. 

“April!” Blu admonished.

“Guys, she’s full of-” 

“I thought you said that you’d talk to me about…nevermind, I’m sorry to bother you…” Pearl hung her head and turned slowly, taking a few steps away from the table. 

“Pearl! Don’t go!” Gia cried. “April, what’s wrong with you?!”

“Ay dios mio…”

April hurried to catch up with her, just like Pearl hoped she would, grabbing her arm. 

“Would you knock it off?” she hissed into her ear. 

Pearl turned to her with a mischievous smirk. “Knock what off?”

“You are some piece of work.” April rolled her eyes. 

“You love it.”

“I need another drink if I’m gonna hang out with you.” 

“So, you do want to hang out with me, then,” Pearl said triumphantly.

April scowled at her, but then a smile began to crack through, and she turned on her heel, marching towards the bar. Pearl followed, checking out her pert little ass in the process. Very nice. 

“Hey, can we get two double shots of Don Q rum?” April asked the bartender. 

“You tryin’ to get me drunk?” Pearl asked, flashing a grin at her as she slid in beside her. 

“I’m trying to make the experience of being with you more enjoyable,” April replied.

“Wow. A dagger, straight to the heart.”

April laughed, taking the shots from the bartender with a nod and shoving one towards Pearl, letting their fingers touch briefly. She bit her lip, looking at Pearl in the eyes, raising her glass. Pearl lifted hers as well. 

“Salud,” Pearl said. 

“Salud,” April replied, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth before tossing back most of the rum in one gulp. 

Pearl grinned, impressed, downing hers as well. 

[flummoxx]

we’re really in it now edgeworth

[forsworned]

That Keegan post you made had me clutching my PEARLS! Your use of words was so masterfully done! I really loved the new vocab I learned while reading your work.

Your depiction of the relationship was also so so nice. Very loving and attentive and just so sweet. I could tell they loved one another and had already established boundaries that they knew they shouldn’t cross. The ending was lovely as well, a great way to tie things up.

Thank you for writing it! I’m excited to see what else your lovely brain comes up with!

-🧢

Whispers in the Woods: A Stranger's Shelter ft. OfftheGridCowboy!Keegan Russ

Sypnosis: When Keegan finds you petrified, running for your life from creatures unknown to you in the Haunted Appalachia trails after sundown, he takes you in for the night. Things get a bit crazy...

Warning(s): Mentions of Sexual Content, Violence, Petnames (?), Blood, Supernatural Horror (?), Eventual Smut, Barely Proofread, Reader is 28 and Keegan is 30, Reader is also AFAB

Word Count: 7.5k (enjoy keegan lovers ;)

Author's note: Blue cap anon thank you so much for inspiring me to write for Keegan. Honestly, I really love how this fic turned out and I hope you do too. I am so sorry I took so long to reply to you but you seriously warmed my heart so sosososo much when I read your message. I did not mean to put you on the back burner for this long/ Just know I have put so much effort into this to provide you a solid work so I hope that is a good enough excuse to have such a delayed response. Also so glad that you learned some new words LOL that really tickles me tbh, but I want to work more with the relationship that reader builds with Keegan in general or with any character x reader I write. So please enjoy this :)

edit: i think it's lowkey not living up to my expectations but ummm fuck it we ball

Sparks fly as the firewood in the pit crackles, casting an orange ember over you and the stranger sitting in front of you. His eyes, reminiscent of the cool, blueness of winter are lingering on you, and his heavy, leather jacket drapes over your shoulders to shield you from the chilliness of the early April evening. With his black cowboy hat slightly tilted upward, you note the black bandana covering most of his face, adding an air of mystery to his appearance.

"You really shouldn't be out here." His voice edges a precarious tone, though you cannot determine if it's toward you or whatever lurks in the abysmal woods. Maybe it was both. Your fingers curl around the distressed tanned hide, fiddling with the stitching of the material. A shudder careens through the columns of your spine, goosebumps trail over your skin, and the fuzz across your neck rises briefly.

"Don't look. Don't even acknowledge it." He instructs, steadying his gaze on you as he tinkers with the butterfly knife in his gloved hand. "W-what?" You gasp out, eyes reaming as your quivering vision sets on the embers of the pyre. A sinister presence harks over your convulsing body, heart palpitating out of your tightening sternum. But as soon as it arrives it departs and you're left heaving for the oxygen that was stripped from your lungs.

"I'm not gonna ask you again, what are you doin' walkin' around aimlessly in these mountains?" He repeatedly latches and unlatches the metal object in his hands, his gaze fixates on you. Truthfully, you were lost. When the engine of the old Dodge that you inherited from your grandfather abruptly cut out as you passed through a dead zone, it was all hauling ass from there on out. Classic damsel in distress situation.

Your father and he had both warned you about the Appalachian mountains. How apex predators inhabited the woods, preying on the innocent, ripping flesh apart on sight, or disappearing into the ghastly woods to never return. But, of course, you wrote it off as fearmongering. Never had you experienced the soul-crushing, harrowing existence of unidentified, cryptids lurking within the lacunas of the evergreens.

"My truck it—" You start to say, but the sound of him exhaling loudly cuts you off and you glance up at him with misery strewn across your features. Doe-eyes glimmering from the wetness that was welling in your oculars as your lips tremble. He outstretches his arm to the lantern on the perched log, "I've heard enough."

He begins to get up, extinguishing the flame, smothering it with what seemed to be a bag of salt and you felt fear creeping back into your system.

"Come on." As the pyre's embers fade, the lantern's switch emits a squeak, coaxing the oil flame to life, while the blood-curdling shrieks send shivers down your spine, ringing in your ears. And as if on cue, you cling to his side and he lets out a soft huff, feeling your arm coil around his.

The inferno acts as a bulwark from whatever is skulking around the both of you in the obscurity of the night as you move through the forest. You catch glimpses of shadows trekking about, seemingly running away from you now. A stark contrast from the previous frantic sprint through the woods in your petite, white frilly prairie dress that was now tattered at the edges and puffy sleeves. Now, you were safe. At least you certainly hope so.

A tiny light enters your line of sight in the distance, and you can only assume that that is his home. But you were still heeding the noises and images being molded in front of human eyes. It was as if the veil was lifted here, a supernatural existence in the vast mountains and woods of the Appalachia. You don't know whether to be terrified or fascinated, but you keep quiet as he silently leads you down the desire path to his home that is etching itself a little more into the horizon.

Approaching the home, you begin to notice the clandestine features of the house. A zephyr sweeps past you and the distinct smell of lavender and sage gently brims into your senses. You visibly shudder as the steps creak under your weight, your arm remains tucked into his own as he fishes out his keys and unlocks the door. Like a gentleman, he gestures to allow you in first and he follows closely behind, shutting it behind him.

"Shoes off at the door." He directs, treading past you as he tosses another piece of firewood into the lit fireplace.

What the fuck?

Is he just not going to acknowledge the paranormal manifestation that incurred upon them just now? The shadows of unearthly skinwalkers who infest the woods, who are prowling out there now as they barricade themselves from the outside? What is stopping them from forcefully intruding into his home?

You finally catch your breath for a moment, still feeling your heart hammering against your chest before you speak. "Are we not going to talk about what we just saw?"

"Nope." He simply replies, from another room and you blink back in surprise. Then it sinks in.

Of course, how could you forget? How can you forget the rules of the Appalachia, that were engrained into you as a child?

If you see something strange in the wilderness, no, you didn't.

If you hear something call your name, no, you didn't.

If you hear screaming in the Appalachian mountains, especially a woman's scream, no, you didn't. 

If you feel something stalking you, do not run.

Never, ever, whistle at night. 

Never go into the woods at night.

Never leave your windows open at night, even in the summer and honestly, the list dragged on and on and on.

Most of it falls on deaf ears never believing in the legends, and yet, here you are shaken up by things you never thought existed in a stranger's home who found it in his heart to shelter you until what you suppose would be dawn.

A wavering breath escapes you as you take a long gander at the well-maintained colonial home. The timeless and heirloom quality of the home becomes evident upon analyzing the vast array of paintings and framed photographs adorning the walls, each depicting individuals with strikingly similar features—dark brows, thick lashes, and mesmerizing steely blue eyes that seemed to penetrate your soul. You can't quite make out the framed artwork through your muzzy vision, but it's eerie the way you can't quite pinpoint why the face was so recognizable to you.

Exposed wooden ceiling beams motion your eyes to the inherited items and the mounted deer skull above the hearth. The warmth emanating from it felt different, soothing, lulling your quivery limbs. You oblige and kick off your boots, padding behind him as he draws out his gun from his holster and places it on the mahogany table. He removes his cowboy hat, hanging it on the horseshoe hat rack adjacent to the fireplace revealing his tousled short black locks. As he begins to unmask himself, a small gasp leaves your lips, fixating on his newly exposed features. And he was goddamn handsome and unusually reminiscent of someone from your childhood embarked into the backlogs of your memory, but of course, you brush it off.

And although he hears it, he does not acknowledge it as one hand grips the wooden chair and the other runs over his dark stubble. He's pensive. The last thing he needed was some heretic woman living under his roof for Lord knows how long. At this point, he decides that you are his responsibility and he cannot shirk from that for that would be unbecoming of a man like himself and he was raised better than that.

He glances up at the painting of his father above the hearth and you take note of the reflective state. His daddy was the embodiment of a Cowboy. Gentlemanly, charming, nifty, and always genial, providing the best hospitality a person could provide. No way, he'd accept Keegan kicking you to the curb, leaving you out for those creatures to rip you apart. Plus, his father would simply rise from his grave and kick his ass.

"You hungry?" He pays no mind to your lingering, bewitched eyes as he moves to the kitchen and you like a lost puppy trailing behind him. "Got some leftover potato leek soup."

And as if on cue, your stomach growls and he glances at your hand over your tummy. You flush from the embarrassment of your stomach being that raucous. He cocks a brow at you and you can't tell if he's amused or annoyed. Probably both. "Go sit." He points his chin to the table by the fireplace and you pad back to the living room, the tempering sensation of the flames causes you to become drowsy. You loll your head to analyze his stature. His figure towers over all of the antique appliances in the kitchen, muscles flexing as he prepares to reheat the soup on the stove. Rolling up his sleeves to reveal his taut, tanned forearms to open the cabinet and pull out the loaf of handmade sourdough, slicing it evenly and efficiently before tossing it in the toaster.

His form becomes a bit hazy as you lay your head against the top rail of the chair, mesmerized by the allure of his broadened shoulders, and soft pink lips that all by hide the peeking tongue indicating his concentration in preparing you a homecooked meal. Keegan never has guests over, in fact, no one is ever daft enough to come running around this way anyways because locals know better and tourists are too scared shitless to even enter this part of the Appalachia. He likes it like that, away from everything and everyone, being able to maintain his family's ranch that was inherited by him at the ripening age of 18.

His mother moved out to the suburbs because the death of his father was far too devasting on her already weary soul to continue living her days out on the farm. But Keegan doesn't mind it. He handles the livestock with ease, providing care to the birthing cattle, and maintaining the operations of the facilities as a whole to keep his honest living thriving. It's all in a good day's work for him. So caring after you shouldn't be too much of a hassle right?

You're suddenly awoken to the soft clatter of the bowl being set on the wooden table, the savory aroma of potato leek soup, and freshly toasted sourdough bread. He sets a glass of water beside you before he pulls his seat adjacent to you with his food.

"Eat." He orders, waiting for you to take a spoonful of thick soup. You hesitantly lift the spoon before glancing up at him. He blinks back at you, realizing the weight of his indiscretion, and whisks the soup with his spoon before noshing on it as if to tell you that is not poisoned nor drugged. Your other hand takes the bread in between your fingers and he mirrors your actions, claiming a bite from his own and you visibly relax.

The soup is scalding to the touch, but you welcome the sensation when you get a taste of the heavenly whipped soup. Not a single lump, just the smoothest, most savory supping of such a simple hearty soup instantly heartening your disconcerting body right down to your unsteady hand.

"I'll fix your truck as soon as dawn breaks." He flashes a glance before breaking his bread and scooping it into his soup. "Make yourself comfortable in the guest bedroom." He gestures with his hand to the upstairs.

"Oh, I couldn't—" You begin to say, but he will have none of it.

"You're not going out there until the sun's out." He replies simply, as he lifts his glass of water and sips from it. You observe the way his Adam's apple oscillates under his stubbly throat and you swallow thickly when you realize he's gazing at you keenly.

Warmth spreads to your cheeks and your eyes are now following the pattern of the wood grain. "That's…very kind of you."

"'s just the human thing to do." And there is an emphasis on the word 'human'.

You begin to play with your soup, scooping it up and letting it fall back into the bowl. "Right." Your voice is soft as you try to block out the memory just moments ago.

He narrows his eyes as if to study you. "What's your name?"

You glance up at him, and you're almost a bit hesitant to tell him. You almost want to lie, but you decide otherwise. "[Name], and yours?"

"Keegan."

"Keegan what?" You press. He raises a brow at you as he chews on his bread.

"Russ."

Russ. An esteemed surname that was echoed throughout your household during your adolescence. Presley Russ was a handsome and genial man who appeared at your father's porch steps every so often, tipping his hat at you with that charming smile and those glacial hues that made your heart jump. He'd invite your daddy out for nights at the rodeo or sipping on Highland Gaelic Ales on the porch from the afternoon til midnight, biding his time between Maryland and North Carolina.

You never quite caught glimpses of his son when you were living out on the ranch before you moved out for college, but you did remember a time when you ventured out past sunset in the abandoned village in the Black Hills you knew better than to be in when your daddy had to travel to Wheaton for the grand opening of his old buddy, Presley's restaurant accompanied by his reclusive son who you never remembered the name of. But for God's sake, who was stupid enough to go treading alone around the same location as the filming of the Blair Witch Project?

But you were a skeptic at best until you heard the unrelenting repetition of your name being called which led you astray, causing you to stumble over your own feet and ultimately collide with a rock that rendered you unconscious. Soon enough, you felt yourself being carried back to your home in the arms of the Russ boy with the hardened steely gaze that intently stared down at the knot forming on your forehead. You had never shut your eyes so quickly and the sound of his soft chuckle, caused you to be even more embarrassed as you were being handed off to your worried parents who were more than relieved and thankful to have retrieved you.

Of course, you had to act like you were unconscious. It was already humiliating enough that you were old enough to know better, but being ferried by a cute boy like you were some helpless damsel in distress was just mortifying.

But that was long forgotten by you in hazy summer days during your teen years before you went off to college and moved out into the city. In reality, you had written it off as a dream, a hallucination concocted by that vivid and graphic imagination of yours. That was always the case with you and the Appalachia. Always the non-believer.

But part of you was hoping that maybe he didn't recognize you after all this time, and yet the way he is staring you down is beginning to feel like otherwise.

"Blair." He suddenly says matter-of-factly as he taps his finger at the table and nods again. "Blair." A small toothy grin creeps on his lips before he chuckles.

Your eyes reaming as your heart drops to your stomach. "What?"

"Black Hills, you're the daughter of the farmer right up in Garrett County."

You feel the warmth blooming on your cheeks. He knew. "I—How do you remember that?"

"Knew you looked familiar." He dives back into his steaming soup. "Was tryin' to figure out where I'd seen that necklace of yours." He juts his chin, pointing to the family heirloom that kisses your clavicle. It had been passed down for generations to the women in your family as a symbol of health, wisdom and longetivity. You feel for the 20k gold pendant with lilac and sage engraved into the soft metal.

He looks as if he's stifling another snicker. "Think you pissed yourself a little when I found you unconscious."

Now that gets you real flared up. The abrupt change in mood was beginning to wrack your nerves. You sigh knowing that at the very least you were in good hands. Familiarity begins to set in as he breaks the ice, creating a more comfortable atmosphere between you two.

"I did not!" You puff your cheeks out at him and he's tickled pink by your endearing, agitated reactions.

His gleeful grin only grows to his eyes. "Now, who willing goes into the woods by themselves when they know damn well what kind of activity breeds over there, hm? Gotta death wish if you ask me, kid."

You open your mouth to say something, but it clamps shut. You don't know whether to be abashed by the way his face lights up like the stars in the heavens above, or by the fact that he remembers that you pissed yourself a little through your favorite pair of khaki parachute shorts in a known marked area where people have gone missing. The stark realization of it being a tangible memory was mussing at your trepidation towards him. But he's teasing you now and it stirs a strange kind of desire in your lower belly as you uncomfortably shift in your creaky wooden seat.

Pushing your bowl away, you avoid responding by guzzling down your water and then calmly placing it back down.

"I'd like to get ready for bed now, if you don't mind."

He jovially raises his eyebrows as he munches on the last of his bread. The smirk still curled up on the corners of his pinkened lips.

He wipes the crumbs off his hands and thumbs either side of his mouth before he gets up, gesturing to you. " 'Course not."

You stand up and politely push your chair in as you track behind him up the croaking staircase. Your body is practically heaving with every step and by the top of it, you're feeling a bit winded. Keegan decides to keep his comments to himself as he ushers you down the grandiose hallway. The walls are painted ivory, and wall sconces are tapered candles on held-up aged tin nailed into the parapet. Hardwood floors are well kept, but the small divots in between the grain quickly reveal the age.

He jingles the knob to what you suppose is the guest bedroom, but it seems to be locked. His fingers fish into his pocket and you watch as he phalanges through the set and then finally picks out the antiquated rusty skeleton key. It's honestly a bit jarring that it requires a key to fasten the door, but at this point, if you're being kept away from the monsters lurking outside you'd be happy to be his little prisoner for now.

He pushes the door and it moans open, though much to your surprise it's polished and orderly. In the middle of the room is a wooden four-poster queen-sized bed, with a princess-like sheer white canopy that surreptitiously envelops the bed. The furniture is a bit more romantic with detailed carved patterns on the bookshelves that line up against the wall to the vanity that sat adjacent to the bed. The carmine curtains that drape over the large window, easily maneuver you to the balcony, and the soft calling of your name beckons you to open it…

A sturdy hand clasps over your shoulder and you jolt as you turn to him. He's shaking his head as he towers over you and you look so goddamn feeble with those damn bambi eyes of yours shimmering in the tiny sliver of moonlight that peeks out from the window. He tears his gaze away to tread over to the window, squeezing it shut with the velcro he sewed into the fabric and reinforces the window shut.

A sharp exhale leaves his nostrils and his eyes are on you again. "I totally can see why you ended up the way you did." He glimpses over your dirtied and frayed dress, skinned, bloodstained knees, and contusions running up and down your legs. God, he makes it so easy to feel self-conscious.

He licks his lips as he hovers his hand over the knob to his right, and signals you over. You begrudgingly stride over and you're just as impressed at the bathroom. From the massive mirror above the traditional wooden undermount double sink vanity to the wine-red clawfoot freestanding bathtub. Little golden trinkets pinstripe the rosy walls with the soft warm lighting of the hanging flowery ceiling light fixtures. You squint your eyes when he adjusts the radiance to a white glow with the dimmer light switch before he opens the drawers one by one.

"Towels, robes, spare clothes, toiletries. Gimme a shout if you need anything else."

You open your mouth to say something and his eyes playfully narrow at you. "—within reason, missy."

Your bottom lip reflexively juts out. You hate to admit it, but you were quite the spoiled child. Never receiving more than a gentle chide from your parents and always silver-spooned to the nines by your grandparents. The truck was an exception. More of a parting gift from your grandfather that was left to you for the sole purpose of memorabilia scored into every inch of the tarnished vehicle. You hope that Keegan is capable of fixing it since most parts were made by discontinued distributors and they were definitely not easy to come by as they were expensive.

"Christ, spoiled rotten, weren't ya?" He ribs, nudging you a bit and you frown at him.

"Was not." You childlessly retort, but the small smile on your face betrays your feeble attempt at contempt.

Fuck, she is so cute. Keegan thinks as he assimilates your hilly yet winsome appearance. Just as cute as he remembers when he was seventeen, ignorant of the malignancy that poisoned his father's lungs.

"Not as much as your daddy spoiled you." You shoot back and cover your mouth with your hands as his brows lift in half surprise and half revelry.

"Blair's got jokes now, huh?" The elicitive nickname indicative of your former years sends another rushing warmth to your face and you begin to shoo him out.

"I'd really like to be clean now, thank you." You cast a scowl his way and he's putting his hands up in surrender as he backs out of the bathroom followed by the bedroom.

"I take it that the lady needs her privacy now." He leans against the doorframe with his hands stuffed into his denim jean pockets that are dusty and darkened with wood ash and the smell of the campfire lingers on his skin.

"And her beauty sleep." You add on, folding your arms. His jacket is still resting over your shoulders and he chuckles at your Hello Kitty print socks. The way your hair was mussed up in the soft glow of the lantern lamp on the night table was starting to arouse him a bit.

Fuckkkkkk, you were so adorable. It might have taken every atom in his body not to bend you over the mattress and spank you for being such a dotty woman before pressing his cock past your velvety folds as he makes you apologize in the form of incoherent, dirty little whimpers.

But the thought is quickly dismissed as it's formed in the sullied cogitations of his mind.

"Good night, [name]." He murmurs in his husky voice yet there is a hint of mischief in his tone that sends a frisson up your spinal column.

"Good night, Keegan." You susurrate, as you slowly shut the door and his expression remains the same as your view of him narrows until it disappears behind the threshold.

"Christ." You mutter to yourself as you begin to get ready for bed, as you feel the rush of collywobbles in your stomach start to well up a craving for the cowboy. The time on your cracked phone screen reads 2:03 AM and a wave of exhaustion crashes over you at the realization. Had you really been out there for seven hours?

The warm water soothes your aching bones and forming scabs scattered across your body as you gently exfoliate your skin. Thankfully, Keegan had enough sense to drop off a first aid kit by your door before you slipped into the bath. You weren't looking forward to the sting of the antiseptic, but you were more than grateful to be alive and have all your limbs attached. As you close your eyes and let the sudsy bath take away your worries, a coaxing voice is entrancing you. At first, it begins as a hushed lull intermingled with what sounds like your name and a bit of white noise that makes your brain all fuzzy and warm, but it becomes audible. Forming coherent luring words that resemble Keegan's deep, raspy voice.

Drown, drown, drown.

And you promptly find yourself submerging into the tub and the stillness of the water is subduing, but something is instigating you to open your eyes. You push away the thought, taking in the tranquility, settling into the comforting sensation of weightlessness. And yet, the feeling is not leaving you. You internally sigh as you move your body to the surface, but you remain dormant. Your eyes shoot open and your blood runs cold.

Above is one of the most fear-inducing creatures that you have ever laid your eyes upon holding you down on either side of your shoulders with slender claws digging into your flesh. It resembles a caribou skull with elongated antlers but its eyes were a violent vermillion that penetrates your soul. Its body was dark, rickety, and harrowing. Bones astute against the matted onyx fur and its tongue hanging out of his jaw like it was ready to devour you. Panic surges through your veins as you thrash about but it drives its talons further into your skin and you shriek out in pain. Water enters your lungs, your heart is stammering at cardiac arrest speed and you're choking out for dear life. This is it. This is how you die and the worst part about it is, you couldn't even call out for hope from the man who saved you just moments ago.

But just as you're accepting your fate, the muffled sound of a gunshot pierces through the air and within seconds the skinwalker is incapacitated and then dead. Soon enough, you're being hoisted out by Keegan's strong hands, as you cling onto him naked, wet, and heaving for oxygen.

Water expels out from your esophagus and you're trembling even harder than you were before when he found you, grasping to him and he's immediately talking you down.

"It's alright, you're okay. You're okay." He soothes, one hand tenderly caressing your soddened hair and the other is gripping your body tight as he pulls you out of the tub. He wastes no time unplugging the drain and wrapping you in a large towel to cover your naked body. In all seriousness, Keegan didn't even take a second to gander at your naked form when he was gathering you out of the tub and he makes that clear that his sole objective was to eliminate the wendigo that trespassed into your sanctuary.

He could've sworn that he had locked up every single opening in the house as he does every single night. It was like clockwork to him ever since his father had shown him the ropes to the place.

"…Kee-keegan." You splutter out as you continue to clutch onto him and your body is saturating him with water. He doesn't care though, that was the least of his worries. Your eyes are reaming and glossy as you dare to peek down at the creature that was seconds away from letting you meet your maker, but there's nothing but ash on the tiled floor.

"It was—" You begin, peering up at his harking steely eyes and his jaw tightens.

"It's gone."

"I don't understand." You shake your head, trying to make sense of what just happened, but the soft clatter of the rifle hitting the bathroom counter delineates your scattered mind. "Oh. But—"

"Get dressed." He softly prompts and you shakily let go of his t-shirt and he hands you an eggshell-colored peignoir as he averts his gaze. He's cognizant of the post-distress and panic you're in, so makes no indication of reallocating himself away from you as you slip on the fabric nor does he provide an explanation for what just occurred.

And to be honest, you didn't want to know. There was nothing more disturbing than the encounter with death in the form of a mutated caribou that leaves you shaken up. Everything just seemed too difficult to wrap your little head around, so let him take care of you.

A fresh towel is on your head, soaking up the wetness tangled into your hair and you relax at his balmy touch.

"Thank you." You mutter as your eyes are cast downward, eyeing the imbued, darkened spots on his nightshirt.

He delicately hooks his index finger and thumb between your chin and lifts it upward as he dabs at your features with the towel. And then it lingers. His intense yet pensive gaze, his stout calloused thumb that is now brushing against your jaw shortly followed by your quivering bottom lip. His jaw ticks.

"I'll sleep in here tonight."

Your heart jumps rampantly against your chest. "What?"

"You almost died if it weren't for me."

"Yes, but it's not—!" You fall short of words yet again and you're tearing your gaze away from him. As dire as the situation was (and it was), Keegan cannot help himself from being just the tiniest bit entertained by your endearing little mannerisms.

"I'm not gonna sleep next to you in bed." He deadpans. Normally, he would let you stumble over your words, but exhaustion is seeping into his bones and even as a noceur himself he was in desperate need of some z's. "The armchair over there quite comfy."

You follow his eyes to the brown leather recliner that was beside the bed and then back to him.

"I'm tired, Keegan." You profess, leaning your head against his chest and he's absentmindedly rubbing circles into the small of your back.

"I know."

Typically, you wouldn't be this comfortable with a stranger but given the unusual circumstances that were currently trying to slaughter your ass, you found yourself seeking solace in him.

"Let's get you into bed."

And soon he's leading you back to the bedroom, his hand is still on the small of your back as you walk on wobbly legs. He peels off the comforter and you sink into the mattress feeling like royalty in your crisp, clean nightgown, in your large princess-like bed, surrounded by plush pillows as the light in the lantern flickers. It casts shadows over his dashing features. The flame turns his glacial eyes into a soft apricot and an expression flickers over his visage—concern.

He's harping over your safety and the intruder that happened to bypass his heavily guarded home. No tripped wires, no movement detected on his cameras, and not to mention not a single sound was made until he heard your thrashing in his room across the hall. If he hadn't been there in time—

"You saved me, though." You drone, shutting your eyes as you tuck yourself into the cotton sheets.

His hardened glare softens at your words and how you look at ease now. A testament to your full, unshakeable faith in him. God, you were so quick to trust, it honestly scared him a little for you.

He scoffs. "How can you be so sure that I wouldn't hurt you?"

"Because your father would resurrect and beat the absolute shit out of you if you even dared to think about harming me." You state with a sly smirk on your face.

Keegan's expression briefly falters before he lets out a snicker, acknowledging the truth in your bold proclamation. "Crafty little critter, aren't ya?"

You giggle as shift under the sheets. It's almost a bit disturbing how you are seemingly fine and brushing off the situation. "Maybe."

He peers down at you for a moment and the welcoming feeling of your radiance starts to crawl into his chest. Almost like you were right where you needed to be, in his home, in his bed under his safeguarding. He wants nothing more than that. It's almost a bit perturbing how you are seemingly fine.

"Go to sleep." You mumble.

"You go to sleep."

"No, you first,"

"Who else is going to shield you against creatures of the night?"

You pause for a moment. "Good point."

He smiles as he walks over to the armchair, gun propped up against his left leg as he sits to face you. You're already curling up in a ball, and your chest rises and falls at a tranquil pace.

"Good night, Blair." He feels his eyes drooping as his vision becomes bleary.

You chuckle at the idiotic nickname. "Good night, Cowboy."

The remnants of tiny, foolish smiles are left on your faces as you drift off to sleep in your respective spaces. The last passing thought that crosses your mind is Keegan's tender gaze and his fingers brushing against your lips. Keegan wonders what is making you so giddy before the world around him fades out.

As morning breaks, sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on the room. The spring breeze wafts into the wisps of your hair and your eyes flutter open. The seat in front of you is now empty and the balcony door is wide open, and yet you're calm as you rise out of bed. Birds are chirping and the incessant droning of cicadas buzzing loudly against your eardrums is merely white noise when you recognize the low rumble of your truck's engine pulling up. There is an urgency that surges within you and soon you're sprinting out the door, and the heat of the cobblestone stings at the soles of your feet but you don't care.

The engine cuts and Keegan climbs out of the truck, sleeves rolled up in his army green henley, and he's wearing a clean pair of relaxed, light-wash jeans that skim the leather of his Tecovas. He peers up at you with wintry hues, tipping his hat, and in that instant, you're transported back to your childhood—Mr. Russ, tipping his hat with those same eyes and that glorious smile that always made your heart race.

The resemblance was both striking and uncanny, but damn, you were totally not complaining.

"Mornin', little lady. You're up quite early." He puts his hands on his hips and he's no longer the stone-faced, vendetta-filled Cowboy that you met last night. He's your friendly Appalachian Cowboy who provides you the sweet, sweet southern hospitality with a charming smile and a bit of a North Carolinian twang that sets your groins on fire.

"Mornin', Cowboy. Fixed my truck, did you?" You lean against the French iron wrought railing with your ruffled hair and white nightgown, rippling in the slight draft that carries the healing scent of sage and lavender. The fabric forms around your body and Keegan notices how it traces the outline of your curves and how the sun is hitting you just perfect enough for you to look like a literal angel.

But it's still the unrelenting, disconcerting feeling that creeps up on him when he looks up at you so unbothered, airheaded with that buoyant grin on your face. Was it really just a facade?

"Fixed it good enough for you to get back on your way." He turns from you to the truck and then back to you. "By the way, where were you headed?"

"Back to the old man." You cross your leg over the other, waiting for his response. He watches as the skin of your legs peeks out from under the peignoir and it's a bit enticing.

"I didn't contact him if that's what you're askin'" His hand acts like a sun visor to block the light out of his sensitive eyes to take a good gander at you.

"I would hope not. Don't need to send him into cardiac arrest." You joke and you see his shoulders shaking a bit, suggesting a chuckle.

"Made you breakfast."

"Yeah?" You simper, leaning a little more against the railing.

He can't help the way his grin broadens as he peers up at your flirty form. "Careful now, can't have you comin' back home with a broken neck, can we?"

Shit. Shit. Shiiiiit.

Goddamn him and his pretty face. He's already heading inside as you're locking in on him, but Keegan isn't one to give you the satisfaction. He'll play the long game and he'll enjoy every minute of it. From the way you're sitting next to him at the table with your dress bunched up to your thighs to the way you sensually lick your spoon covered with cream and he's internally chuckling at the mess you've made on the corners of your lips, feigning gullibility to get a rise out of him. Admittedly, it's hot. He wants nothing more than to lick your fingers clean and sloppily kiss your sweet cream-laden lips.

Mmmm.

He doesn't say anything. Just enjoys his breakfast and keeps his gaze lowered like a gentleman. The company of a beautiful woman is enough for him on a fine Sunday morning like this.

You can only wonder what he's thinking as you act like a giddy schoolgirl who's trying to get the attention of her professor. Not that you had a significant age gap with Keegan, but in his original line of work there was a massive lapse. Being a retired Marine had probably mentally aged him over give or take 10 years would have been your best guess. And leaving the farm to his cousins in his absence probably impacted him even more, well, according to your gossip girl of a father at least.

He made trips down to NC every so often to check on his favorite, reclusive cowboy, sometimes tending to his facilities when need be. You never tagged along though. In your mind, you were a city girl who didn't mind dressing up as a cowgirl if she saw fit. So coming down from your city job, in the comfort of your sweet loft that overlooked the NOVA skyline didn't exactly make you miss the Appalachia trails.

Still, it is nice being back here with a somewhat familiar stranger in a home you had only seen the outside of because, for the majority of your life, you had so desperately tried to force out the rural in you. Call it toxic, but leaving the mountains always felt like the haze had lifted from your brain. It was unsettling to be here for too long.

"You're nervous."

You glance up from the runny eggs that you have been working on for the past twenty minutes. You give him a sheepish grin. "This place makes me nervous."

"Itching to go back to the city, huh?"

That elicits a small chuckle from you. "And what do you know about me?"

"Well, according to your father," He says in a knowing tone and you narrow your eyes at him as he gives you a coy smile. "you love the city too much to move back."

"I don't think I'm too good for it. Here, I mean."

"Didn't say that. The Appalachia isn't for everyone." He butters his toast and then munches on it and soon it vanishes into his mouth. The night before is washed away from your memory, but Keegan loses track of his thoughts as he stares at the leftover jagged lines embedded into your skin from a creature that he knew you wanted to forget. A glance at his watch and he's up, wiping his hands and mouth with the serviette that was on his lap before he places it on the table. "You ready?"

"You got somewhere to be?" You raise your brows, not quite ready to leave yet.

"Matter o'fact I gotta date with an employee from Tractor Supply Co in about an hour, and it's thirty minutes out."

"New livestock?" You sip at your coffee.

A sad smile graces his lips. "Yeah, my last eldest cattle just passed away a few weeks ago."

You frown. "I'm sorry."

For a moment you swear you saw him get teary-eyed, but he quickly shakes himself out of the grief, grabbing his keys as he downs his glass of ice water. He stops himself for a moment as you get up to push your chair in and he can't help himself from tracing his fingers over the claw marks on either side of your shoulders. You shudder from the remembrance and his touch.

"[name]," He starts to express but your mood sours.

"Stop."

His expression falters and so does his hand as he lets it drop to his side. You didn't want to remember any of it. He notices how you clutch onto your necklace and he drops the subject.

"Your trucks waiting." He takes your hand and deposits the keys into your palm.

You give him a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you."

You begin to approach your truck and you feel relief washing over you as you run your hand over the tarnished, rusted hood of the Dodge before you open the driver door. As you climb in you notice that all your belongings remain untouched. Scattered cassette tapes, polaroids, and the little Hawaiian girl that swayed with every movement still plastered onto the dash. The leather seats seem to have abrasions, revealing the cushion beneath, but you write it off as a bear maybe deciding to try and access your vehicle after you had abandoned it.

"…[name], ….[name]….!"

You're snapped out of your stupor, recollecting your thoughts as you glance over at him leaning his body against your truck. "I checked the vehicle, it's all clear for you to go. Should make it back alright."

"Why wouldn't it be if you fixed the engine?"

The look you give him is blank, free from concern and any worry that may have been left on your face from last night.

He nods, pushing his hands into his jean pockets. "Right, well, it was nice seeing you all grown up."

That provokes a reaction. Heat is rising to your cheeks and Keegan is standing there looking cool as ever as he takes off his hat and wipes the sweat off his brow before putting it back on.

"Thank you." You say with more feeling, only your eyes acknowledging the horrors of last night. And that's enough for Keegan.

"You take care now." He tips his hat with a good-natured grin and you snicker at his little cowboy bit.

He waves to you as you back out of his driveway and you glance over from your rearview mirror as his towering figure disappears and so does any anamnesis from the evening prior. Or at least, you told yourself that.

And that was April. Months have gone by and Keegan doesn't exactly expect you to keep in contact. He's even surprised to hear a, '[name], says hello, by the way.' from your father during their weekly check-in.

And he definitely does not expect to see your truck in his driveway when he's coming back from milking his cows for the day with his new set of eyes that's in dog form, wagging her tail in anticipation as she sits.

"German Shepherd, eh? Suits you." You simper at him, leaning against the pillar of his home with glossy lips, and a cutesy red paisley swing dress that just barely covers your thighs. Your boots are hardly broken in as they dig into the grassy field and your hair is a little disheveled in an endearing way.

"Name's Miley." He peels off his gloves, shoving them into his back pocket. He's completely taken aback by your sudden presence, though he's not one to complain about a pretty lady showing up at his door.

"Hey, Miley." You coo, holding your hand to her and she's immediately reciprocating your energy tenfold as she jumps up and down, causing you to giggle and pet her soft fur.

Keegan doesn't even need to say anything as he glances down at the German Shepherd and she's already sitting on the ground between you two.

"Miss me?" You ask, coyly.

"Could ask you the same thing, Blair." He tilts his head to the side, eyeing you suspiciously. Something was off.

"I was just in town."

"Uh huh."

It doesn't take long before the act drops and distress is carving into your features. Lips are trembling in fear as your eyes begin to water.

"Something's been following me, Keegan." Your body naturally falls against his chest and his breath hitches a bit at your contact and the smell of your perfume wafts into his senses.

Fuck.

mini taglist: @keegansshark @soapsgf @milkteaarttime

[sumwan]

I thought it would be interesting to look at c!Dream's inventory and ender chest both before and after the prison.

Before the prison

The latest time he showed his inventory before the prison was on August 31, 2020, when he was remodeling the Community House [x]

Armor, weapons, and tools

Netherite Helmet (Protection IV, Unbreaking III)

Netherite Chestplate (Protection IV, Unbreaking III)

Netherite Leggings named "Punzo Chaps" (Protection IV, Unbreaking III, Mending) (given by c!Punz after c!Dream fell and lost his armor)

Netherite Boots (Protection IV, Unbreaking III, Feather Falling IV, Depth Strider III, Mending)

Netherite Sword named "Netherite Sword11" (Sharpness V, Unbreaking III, Looting III, Fire Aspect I, Mending)

Netherite Pickaxe named "pp2" (Efficiency V)

Netherite Shovel (unenchanted)

Netherite Axe (unenchanted)

Bow (Punch I, Unbreaking III, Power V, Flame, Infinity)

Crossbow named "DEFINITELY NOT PENIS" (Quick Charge III, Piercing IV)

Shears

Food and support items

2 full stacks of arrows

16 ender pearls

1 water bucket

56 golden apples

2 enchanted golden apples

2 full stacks of steak plus one stack of 62 and one stack of 25

Various building blocks for remodeling the Community House

Ender chest

He doesn't show his ender chest in this stream, so the latest I could find was on July 31, 2020, which is shortly before the L'Manberg revolution war. [x]

1 full stack of diamonds and a stack of 22

2 full stacks of golden apples and a stack of 11

4 full stacks of iron ingots plus two stacks of 32

4 enchanted golden apples

1 dark oak log

60 arrows

1 full stack of steak

Diamond helmet (unenchanted)

1 pink bed

3 full stacks of ender pearls

1 potion of swiftness

1 netherite ingot

1 Cat music disc (not c!Tommy's disc)

1 Blocks music disc

After the prison

The last time c!Dream showed his inventory and ender chest after the prison was on April 22, 2022. [x]

Armor, weapons, and tools

Full set of enchanted Netherite Armor (given by c!Punz)

2 Netherite Swords (one given by c!Techno and one picked up from c!Bad during jailbreak)

2 Netherite Axes (also one from c!Techno and the other from c!Bad)

1 Netherite Pickaxe (given by c!Punz)

1 Netherite Shovel

1 trident (Riptide)

Shield (either given by c!Techno or picked up from c!Bad)

Bow named "Wardens Bow" (Infinity, Flame, Power V, Unbreaking III) (picked up from c!Bad)

Food and support items

1 splash potion of fire resistance

1 splash potion of strength II

4 full stacks of golden apples

10 enchanted golden apples

2 stacks of steak, one of 59 and one of 57

1 milk bucket

2 water buckets

1 full stack of regular arrows

54 harming arrows

1 full stack of obsidian

12 TNT

4 full stacks of ender pearls and a stack of 9 ender pearls

2 WARDEN ACCESS keycards

Various random items and stacks of dirt

Ender chest

53 diamond blocks

46 iron blocks

1 lava bucket

1 full stack of steak

1 full stack of flint

2 full stacks of gold blocks

6 netherite ingots

1 book and quill (unknown content)

2 full stacks of golden apples

1 full stack of feathers

1 full stack of arrows

7 nether stars

There's a lot that can be said about this, but I'm sure it's very normal to have two swords, two axes, and four stacks of golden apples on you at all times.

[astroyongie]

𓆉⋆｡˚⋆❀ Goddess Worship: An Introduction of Venus 🐚🫧𓇼 ˖°

Note: Day 21 of our October calendar! Today we have an introduction of deities I work with/worship. This post is to provide some information about the deities but also how I work with them personally. Everyone has their own methods with the Gods, and you should do whatever feels right with you while also respecting the bases of the religions.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Historical Background:

Venus is the Roman goddess of love, beauty, desire, and fertility, whose origins lie in the Greek goddess Aphrodite (they are basically the same deity but one can have a preference for one or another when it comes in terms of naming. I personally like Venus denomeation better than Aphrodite, yet Aphrodite's cult is older and thus more accurate when it comes to history). She played a major role in Roman culture, not just as a goddess of romantic love but also as a symbol of the prosperity and power of the Roman state. Julius Caesar claimed to be a descedent from Venus through her son Aeneas, who was a Trojan hero and a central figure in Roman myth. You can find a vast historical symbols and lore with Venus. Out of the three goddess that I work with (Venus, Freyja and Hekate) she is the most well represented through art, literature, historical history and mythology.

Attributes and Symbols:

Doves and Sparrows: they are birds sacred to Venus, representing love and desire but also innocence and purity. These birds often accompany her in art as a part of her symbolism. Shells and Pearls: Venus is famously depicted emerging from the sea on a shell, symbolizing her birth from sea foam. Anything directly linked with the sea can be symbolic in her name Roses and Myrtle: Both flowers are sacred to Venus, representing love, beauty, and fertility. Golden Apples: Associated with the goddess, these were the prize in the famous myth of the Judgment of Paris, where Venus was deemed the fairest of all. Other red fruits can also be associated with her, anything that holds a connotation of love and desire. (The apples are also an association with Eve and the forbidden fruit)

Worship and Rituals:

Veneralia: A festival held in honor of Venus Verticordia (Venus the Changer of Hearts) on April 1st. This festival was primarily concerned with cleansing rituals, bathing in myrtle-laden water, and offering prayers for purity in love and relationships. Venus Genetrix: A title meaning "Mother Venus," this aspect emphasized Venus’s role as a progenitor of the Roman people through Aeneas. Julius Caesar established a temple in her honor as Venus Genetrix, showing her importance in Roman political and public life. Gardens and Shrines: Venus had many shrines and temples, particularly in Rome. Shrines to Venus often included lush gardens, which were a symbol of her fertility and life-giving powers. This is also an idea to set al whole altar/shrine for her, that doesn't need to be inside of home and can be creative with your outside space. Erotic and Fertility Rites: Venus was invoked in matters of love, sex, and fertility. Offerings of flowers, perfume, and wine were common, and her blessings were sought by women who wished to conceive. Pretty much like Freyja, people would have sexual intercourse in her honor State Worship: Venus was integral to the Roman state religion. Augustus, following Caesar’s example, elevated her status, linking her to the success of the empire and military victories. Any "birth" was dedicated to her

-> When worshipping Venus, you can make a pretty altar while respecting her symbolisms. Venus can help with love, but remember she helps with self love first as well. Do not invoke her only to have X falling in love with you. her cult needs to be taken seriously. Offerings need to be maid every friday and during her ritual days. Never use her power to become "the prettiest of them all", as Venus doesn't take well humans who try to use her name for pettiness. Be grateful for her, shower her in love and admiration and she will bless you in return

-> Ideas for offerings: Wine, honey, shells, feathers, mirrors, roses, myrtle, perals, jewlery, perfume, incense, scented candles, hairbrushes or makeup, apples, red fruits, sea water or sand, anything symbolic with the sea and love.

BIBLIOGRAPHY:

"Venus in Rome: A Translation of Book II of Ovid's Fasti" by Ovid, Translated by Betty Rose Nagle

"Venus Genetrix: Political Imagery and Female Personifications in the Late Republic" by Paul Zanker

Carney, J. (2013). Venus in Augustan Rome (Doctoral dissertation, Florida Atlantic University).

Flory, M. B. (1988). Pearls for Venus. Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte, (H. 4), 498-504.

[coltishcaterpillar]

Unmasked / Platonic!Father Alastor x Teen!Daughter Reader

Chapter I: Introduction

Summary:

Two days after the Extermination, a bored Emily reads through private records of Heavenly residents and sinners alike.

During her mindless scrolling, she comes across a vintage diary smelling of old paper, from the late 20s-early 30s. It details the life of the teenage adopted daughter of the Radio Demon; up until her death at aged 16 on January 11th, 1934.

WARNINGS: Mentions of Racism

April 4th, 1932

Have you ever seen a top hat, what one really looks like on a person?

Neither have I, until today. At the end of Merritt Street, there’s a small accessories store that sells jewellery and clothing alike.

I used to frequent there, but I’ve never been a fashionable girl. I’m a larger fan of browsing; just admiring the beauty of art from afar, rather than acquiring it.

I never realized how much I missed the little establishment until I saw my favourite businessperson; Anne Brewster. A short, tout woman she was. Her skin had a grey tinge to it, a pointy nose that popped out her features; bright brown eyes and hair as white as pearls, short and thin as straw.

I greeted her with my usual demeanour. Quiet and curt, a straight wave and a superficial smile. The woman has a tendency to chatter; most of the time I don’t have time to interject, so I just listen.

I went in the shop with Elbert Graves; a fellow classmate of mine in mathematics. He’s not my ideal source of company, I’ll admit. I get along much better with other girls, but this helpless boy is always on my tail, and I can’t bare to tell him to get lost.

We came across a jet-black top hat with a golden ribbon wrapped around its rim. It was on display, but there was no glass so we assumed we could sample it. Elbert looked utterly ridiculous in it; far too flashy, and way too gigantic for his pea-sized head.

I managed a small laugh, as that’s the reaction he would’ve wanted from me. Ever the jokester…

I took a seat on the cushioned chair in front of the store’s entrance. Whilst Elbert was fooling around with other gadgets, Anne took to speaking with me.

She spoke a great deal about her grandchildren, and then inquired me about Papa.

Pa doesn’t usually wander about these places, but he knows Anne from university; they attended the same one in Shreveport, in September of 1908. Pa wanted to become a broadcaster post-secondary (to which he achieved) and Anne wanted to edit the local newspaper part-time; she was getting old, but didn’t want to stop working. She didn’t end up pursuing it, however, she dropped out her third year to take care of Rachel (her eldest grandchild who was 5 at the time.) Then, she inherited this business when Mr. Brewster, her father, died. He owned the shop.

She asked about his job was working out for him. Pa never speaks about work when he arrives home; usually he’s more interested in my daily activities. I don’t listen to Pa’s radio channel anyways, because the subjects he covers doesn’t appeal to me.

I just told her he was thriving; because in a way, he was. Pa was rarely in a sour mood. Of course, he gets moody when I do something out of line from time to time, but his attitude is always uplifting.

Elbert excused himself to the restroom at the back of the desk; that’s when she started talking about adolescent things. Boys…..

“Elbert is a such a handsome boy, don’t you agree?”

“Not particularly.”

“Oh? Why do you say that?”

“His chin is too long, and his head is too small for his broad shoulders. Not to mention his personality isn’t to my tastes. He’s far too extroverted and cheeky.”

“Oh, come now, my lovely. Surely, we can’t all be picky! What ever will you do when you grow into a young woman? Who will be around to take care of you?”

“Pa will, no doubt.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. Your father will be far too senile to care for you when you’re in your prime! You need a strong man!”

“Too senile?! Surely, you jest. Pa may be lanky, but he’s very capable. He was only twenty-five when he adopted me, he’ll only be middle-aged by the time I’m an adult.”

“You say Elbert is cheeky, but I see a lot more cockiness coming from you than I ever have with him.”

“Only an outside observer can properly assess my personality. Perhaps you just see my persona differently than I.”

“Is that so?”

The bell hanging from the door rang; in came a man, dressed in a business suit, a large briefcase held in his right hand. He had been more wrinkly than I had last seen him: Anne’s partner, Mr. Devereaux.

He has a very thick Yorkshire accent; Anne and him met while she was on vacation in London; Mr. Devereaux was studying photography. When they first met in late 1864, they weren’t sure whether or not they could ever be together. Anne is a very brown woman, you see. Very. Mr. Devereaux is about as white as a sheet. People often look down on….colourful couples…? More harshly. They aren’t allowed to be married, so they had to improvise.

Forgive me for not mentioning this sooner, but Anne is actually good friends with my Grandma. Pa is half-Creole, you see, and my Grandma’s roots come from there. So, the Brewsters are actually well-acquainted with my family.

Mr. Devereaux sat his briefcase beside the door, across from where I was seated. He flashed me a toothless smile; quite literally, since they all rotted out of his mouth due to age.

I gave him a curious look back.

“Back from business, old man?” I tease.

He chuckled; giving me an affectionate pat on the head.

“Oh, well, look at you! Already at it with the nosy interrogation, I see! I’ve missed you, sweet girl.” He smiled.

I narrowed my eyes. He didn’t answer the question….

He turned his attention to Anne quite quickly. Leaning over the desk, he planted a kiss on her forehead.

“The trip went smoothly,” He told Anne, “Janice sent you a letter. It should be in the mail soon, my darling.”

Janice was their daughter.

“Lovely.”

He turned his entire body so it faced me, with an inquisitive look on his face. He then turned and whispered to Anne,

“Al is out late again?”

“I don’t know, my sweet. I’ve seen her out and about all day with Elbert, he must be. It’s nearly nine.”

“I thought his radio shows were done by four?”

“Perhaps the schedule’s changed, dearest. Let’s not be nosy, it’s not our business.”

I let out a deep breath through my nose, standing up. Pa likes to hang around a few stores after work, so I tried my best not to let their observations get to me. Perhaps he was already home!

Anne leaned over from behind Mr. Devereaux.

“Could you go check on Elbert, hun? He’s been in the restroom for quite a while.”

I sigh. Without a response, I head toward the back desk, into the small hallway that had the restrooms.

I knocked on the door, firmly.

“El?” I addressed him by nickname.

“Mhm?” His hun echoed off the door.

I raised an eyebrow. “What have you been doing in there these past fifteen minutes? It was eight-forty when you went in, it’s five to nine already!”

Within seconds, he came out of the door, an awkward smile plastered on his face. A blush dusted his cheeks as well; I narrowed my eyes at him. Did he have the runs?

“Finished?” I asked him without judgment.

“Yes.” He said, curt.

I lead him back to the entrance of the store, passing Anne a smile. I turn my gaze back to Elbert.

“I’m going to be leaving now. I hadn’t realize how late it was. Will you be alright on your own?” I asked, a tint of concern in my voice.

“Of course. See you later?” His tone was hopeful.

Without a pause, I said, “Yes, I’ll see you later.”

I said my goodbyes to Anne and Mr. Devereaux, and sent my regards to Janice.

When I exited the store, it wasn’t as dark and drab as I thought it would be; I still heard birds chirping, and I could see my way almost perfectly. Just another perk of springtime, I suppose.

When I arrived home, Pa was indeed on the couch, his legs crossed, with a newspaper in hand; black coffee was situated on the side table.

“Home at long last, my dear!” He put his newspaper down; and I ran over, kissing him on the cheek.

“Sorry, Papa. How long did you have to wait?”

“Oh, not long at all!” He chuckled heartily.

I turn over to the rounded wooden table in the dining room; a large cloth bag sat on it; my eyes lit up in curiosity.

“Now, now,” Pa waved his finger, “I know that dangerous gaze. Don’t go peeking around my things, dear.”

I put on a thinned-lipped smile, leaning on the armrest.

“What, do you have something to hide, Papa~?” I leaned in, teasingly.

It was meant to be a joke. A rhetorical question. Yet, I couldn’t help but notice his fist clench up, if only for a moment. His body language was saying something different than what his mouth was.

“Is it really too much to ask to keep yourself out of my business?” He bit his lower lip.

When Pa took that tone with me, I knew it was time to pipe down. I decided to change the subject, sitting next to him on the couch.

“Elbert and I took a stroll around the avenue.” I said, tracing along the armrest.

I could FEEL Pa’s eye roll without even looking.

“Out with that wretched boy again, are we?” He took a casual tone as he sipped his coffee, but I knew the mere thought of Elbert irked him.

Pa has never interacted much with my friends, so I thought El would be another drop in the ocean. I think his hatred of him has something to do with that one time he came over here.

Everything was alright until dinner time.

The few hours earlier, Grandma treated us with a generous amount of Jambalaya. She always makes the best, after all.

Elbert made an….observation? While we were eating and it made Pa freeze.

“This is some slave food! Who made it, a peasant?”

All I remember was Pa’s grip tightening so much on the fork. I leaned over to where he was sitting and rubbed his arm a little.

I disliked the comment too. That was my Grandma he was speaking about….

After El left, I noticed Pa staring at the wooden spoon on the shelf. I know that blasted piece of cutlery all too well….

Pa is good at discipline. Even when my other friends came over, he’d always make an effort to chastise them if they didn’t say please or thank you.

Long story short, I think Pa wanted to beat El. That’s probably why he was showing such immaculate restraint at the table. I can’t imagine another person disciplining somebody else’s child would go…smoothly, anyway.

He had valid reason to hate him, I suppose. I’m not fond of Elbert either, but…how do you find it in your heart to say no? I suppose I’ve never really had a backbone, but…it seems that he’s really fond of me.

“How was work?” I asked with a smile.

“It held all of its classic theatrics! You should find it in your soul to listen to my shows, my dear.” He beamed.

I was deep in thought.

“Don’t I hear enough of your voice already?”

Pa chuckled his little chuckle that always made my chest warm.

“You can never have too much of your father!”

Time went on as usual; a few moments later I decided to pack up for bed; Pa went upstairs to get his radio ready to listen to. He always does before he sleeps.

I took that as an opportunity to ponder; I turned my gaze back to the bag on the table. Pa notoriously hunts, but it was far too late for food, so it made me wonder.

I slid toward it with my socks against the hardwood. I breathed in deeply; perhaps there was a certain scent? All I could smell was the dusty fabric; nothing more.

With a sigh, I decided to leave it for now. Maybe it’s….best that I don’t.

Y/N

——————

Emily blinked once. She recognized the background; that this child of one of the hotel staff in Hell.

Taking the historical piece of literature to St. Peter, she inquired,

“St. Peter, hi! I was just wondering if there is a girl here in Heaven named Y/N L/N?”

St. Peter smiled in delight, getting out his holy book, scanning through all the people with your name; going roughly by last name. His face fell as they came to an end.

“Unfortunately not, Em! It’s…strange, considering the circumstances. Sixteen is very young for a person to end up in Hell…but she isn’t in Heaven.”

Emily frowned, eyeing the diary in her hands. Perhaps she’d find the answer in there….

[slutz4marsh]

Kyle smut! Kyle smut! Kyle smut!! Pretty please with sugar in top?

Bonus points if it's with a super pretty coquette girlie (aka me, omg let me be thirsty!! I NEED HIM)

just 4 u april. speaking of power couple kyle .... also i think i went overboard. i am so sorry.

kyle broflovski x coquette!fem!reader SMUT

Ruffles and puffy sleeves and bows and pearls. You are everything that Kyle adores. Feminine and beautiful and opinionated and absolutely perfect. You're smart and you're proud and you don't tone yourself down for anyone.

God, Kyle wants to marry you.

His eyes are practically glazed over as he stares at you. You, with the beautiful black curls that you pull away from your face, tying back in a half-ponytail with a soft pink ribbon. You tie it into a bow with practiced precision. Your bangs frame your face perfectly. Everything about you is perfect, in Kyle's eyes.

Fuck, you could kill someone and he'd be more concerned about if you were upset by the blood staining your silk top.

"You're staring," you tease him. A smirk plays its way onto your full, glossy lips as you see Kyle blushing.

"I'm not staring." Kyle defends, though he knows it's a lie. the blush on his face is evident, and the way his eyes rake over your body in a way that you can only quite describe as hungry...

You stand up from your chair at your vanity and walk over to your bed, making quick strides. Kyle's eyes look you up and down several times.

At this point, he's absolutely convinced you're trying to kill him. Your shirt is cut in such a way that he can see the exact curves of your breasts. Your skirt is too short, and he's entirely sure it's on purpose.

Your hands brace on your hips as you look at Kyle with one perfectly-penciled eyebrow raised. You lean forward, and that's about when Kyle snaps.

His hands reach out and grasp your hips pulling you back onto your bed. You're straddling him, and you can feel your heart beat harder, faster. At least part of this is due to the fact that you know your panties are thin and made entirely of lace.

Kyle, on the other hand, smirks. He can feel your arousal leaking through the thin fabric. he reaches down and cups your pussy with his whole hand. You buck into his hand, entirely involuntarily, and he looks amused.

"Ky," you speak while you still have some semblance of your brain intact. "We're gonna be late."

Kyle shakes his head and pulls you closer yet. "So we'll be late. It's fine." he assures you as he begins to press kisses to your jawline and your neck. You can't say no when the shiver runs up your spine.

Kyle nips at your skin. He sucks red marks that will turn into bruises into the skin of your neck and collarbone.

He flips your positions, laying you down on your back on the bed. He slides down and flips your skirt up. He pulls your panties to the side, which, for the record? are soaked. Kyle gives you absolutely no warning before he yanks you closer, his tongue flicking and lapping at your sensitive folds.

You let out a long, high pitched moan. You moan out his name, you grip at his hair and you earn a groan from him as your fingers tangle in the tight curls.

Kyle hums in satisfaction, clearly pleased with himself. He can feel your thighs trembling around his head as he continues to eat you out. His tongue moves in quick, firm strokes.

You whimper as he hums. The act causes vibrations against your core.

"Oh, God," you gasp, your thighs trembling and squeezing Kyle's head between them. Your clit brushes against his nose as he slurps at your wetness. It's making you see stars.

Kyle groans as you tighten your thighs around him. He can feel you getting wetter and more desperate, so he laps at you with even more fervor than before.

You let out a long moan and you can feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter. "Oh, my God," you whine.

Kyle can tell that you're close. He always can. He doubles down on his efforts, moving up to suck and lick at your clit with intensity. He slides two fingers into you and crooks them upwards to hit your g-spot, all while his tongue continues to work its magic.

You gasp, raggedly, and let out a long, low moan. Your head is spinning. "That-" you gasp, "do that again, please."

Kyle smirks against your skin, pleased with your reaction and your manners. He obliges your request and does it again, hitting your g-spot with each thrust of his fingers. He flicks his tongue over your clit rapidly, knowing exactly what you need to push you over the edge.

You gasp once more. Your body spasms. "Kyle," you moan. "I-I- I'm gonna-" you gasp right before your orgasm crashes over you like a wave. Hard and fast with little warning.

Kyle works you through your orgasm, his fingers pumping in and out of you as he laps up your juices. He can feel you trembling under him, and he knows that he's done a good job. He slows his movements as you come down from your high, gently licking you clean before pulling away.

You're shaking as he pulls away. When the stars disappear from your vision and you can see again, you watch Kyle unbutton his pants and pull his pants and boxers down to his knees.

Your eyes widen slightly. They always do when you see him. Kyle soothingly hushes you as he leans down to kiss you. His lips claim yours in a possessive kiss as he slowly begins to push into you.

It's not long before Kyle completely bottoms out inside of you. You moan at the feeling of being stuffed full, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer.

Kyle groans as he bottoms out inside you, the feeling of you tight around him almost overwhelming. he stills for a moment, giving you a chance to adjust to the feeling of him inside you.

"God, sweetheart," he pants, his voice rough and strained with desire. "You feel so fucking good," he murmurs as he buries his face in your neck. "perfect. I can't get enough of you."

His praise makes you feel dizzy as he starts to slowly move. He picks up the pace as he begins to thrust into you. His hands grip your hips tightly as he does.

Kyle has always been rough, hard, fast. It drives you insane. You moan softly as you feel Kyle speeding up, thrusting harder into you. Slamming his hips against yours. You're seeing stars.

Kyle grins as he hears your moans, loving the way you respond to his roughness. He continues to pound into you, his movements becoming more and more intense as he nears his own high.

"You like that, sweetheart?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "You like it when I take you like this? You like being filled up, huh? Oh, I know you d. You're so perfect. So beautiful, so perfect." He presses a kiss to your neck. "I can't get enough of you."

A broken moan leaves your lips at his praise. He pushes your knees up, pressing against you as he pistons in and out of you, harder and faster. You gasp at the movements, your eyes rolling back as he hits the spot inside you that makes you see stars.

Kyle grins as he sees the effect he's having on you once more, loving the way you're falling apart beneath him. He adjusts the angle, trying to hit that spot inside you over and over again, determined to drive you over the edge.

"That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice rough. "Let go for me. I want to see you come apart. Wanna feel you come undone. Let go, I've got you."

He continues to thrust into you, his movements becoming more and more erratic as he nears his own release. He can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, but he's determined to make you cum first.

"God, Ky-" You gasp. "I-I can't, 's too much- ah!" you moan at the feeling, your perfectly-manicured nails clawing at his back as he fucks you harder, pressing you down into the bed. You whimper softly as you get closer.

Kyle groans at the feeling of your nails digging into his back, the pain mixing with pleasure and driving him even closer to the edge.

"You can do it, sweetheart," he pants, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I know you can. Just let go. Let go for me, yeah? I wanna feel you cum around me. Come on, I know you can do it."

His words are soft, gentle as opposed to his actions. He continues to thrust into you, hitting your spot over and over again. He can feel you getting closer and he knows it won't be long now.

You can feel the knot in your stomach tightening as you get so, so close to the edge. "Ky-" You moan louder, your nails digging into his skin as you rake them down his back. "'s too much, too big," you moan as you practically drool from the stimulation. You feel yourself start to clench around him and you know you're close.

Kyle grins at the words spilling out of your mouth. He loves how easily you fall apart with him.

"You can take it," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "You're doing so well. You're taking me so perfect, baby. You're so tight, so perfect. I know you can do it. Just a little more."

He continues to thrust into you, his movements erratic but strained as he wills himself not to cum until you do.

You open your mouth to speak, but all that tumbles out is a broken moan as you clench hard around his length, your walls fluttering around him as you come undone with a broken, desperate call of Kyle's name, as if it were a prayer.

Kyle groans as he feels you clench around him, the sensation sending him over the edge as well. He thrusts only a few more times before he cums, spilling himself inside you with a low moan.

"God," he pants, collapsing on top of you and burying his face in your neck. "You're amazing. So perfect, so beautiful. I love you."

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you both come down from your high. He can feel your heart racing against his chest, and he can't help but smile at the thought that he's the one who made you feel like this.

You both lay there in silence as you come back to yourselves. You turn to narrow your eyes at the clock on your bedside table.

"What exactly are we gonna tell the guys as a reason that we're an hour late?" You question.

Kyle groans against your neck. "I'll figure it out."

You giggle airily as he leans in and kisses your lips again.

[loud-whistling-yes]

All i know is the Season 9 of Hermitcraft, hc x dsmp crossover and Tilly do us apart. The rest you mention is foreign to me. So yeah and also I agreed that no person should see the entirety of dsmp history. Like damn... many things have occur in a short period of time?!

Glad you've asked! Here is a list of things part of mcyt history that has happened in the last 4 years:

Hermitcraft season 7 will be 4 years old in a month (February 2020)

The dsmp will be 4 too in a few months (April 2020)

Dream SMP War by Sadist, the video that caused one of the largest surges of popularity for the dsmp, turns 4 in August

Doomsday celebrated it's 3rd anniversary about a week ago (6th January 2021)

Yes. Almost ALL of the dsmp story up to that point happened within the span of about 5 months. From the VERY BEGINNING OF THE DISC SAGA TO THE TOTAL DESTRUCTION OF LMANBURG. It all took place from July to early January. What the fuck.

3rd life will be turning 3 in April (April 2021)

Penismp turns 3 in May. I cannot stress this enough. Remember the fake smp that predated goncharov BY A FUCKING YEAR AND A HALF and trended 3rd on Tumblr for 2 days straight??? That was almost 3 years ago now.

The surge of popularity for Passerine happens around May of 2021, following Sadist's animation Sunsprite's Eulogy

Empires season 1 will be 3 years old in June

Hermitcraft season 8 will also be 3 in June (exactly one week apart! Esmp started on 12th June while hcs8 started on the 19th)

Yes, you heard it right, the life series and empires predate season 8! Pearl and Gem became hermits roughly a week AFTER the cactus ring.

June 2021 is ALSO the month where MCC Pride 2021 took place. Y'know, the one with Wilbur's office on fire and technoblade getting nicknamed Tech by grian. THIS IS ALSO turning 3 this year. June 2021 was a wild month.

Techno's escape from prison will be 3 years old this year too. September fucking 2021. It's been 3 years since this happened.

The canary's curse has been a concept in the fandom for a little over 2 years now, following jimmy's final death in last life (early November 2021)

Moon Big also occurred around this time frame, which means it's turning 3 this year!

Mangoball becomes a dsmp fandom staple around early December 2021

The 2 year anniversary of @/chrisrin's curses last life animation is in 2 days! (16th January 2022)

Following the end of empires season 1, hermitcraft season 8 and the lore drought of the dsmp, this is where the big Content Drought of 2022 happens. This is where dreamempirescraft became a thing. This is also where that drawing came from.

Hermitcraft season 9 will also be 2 soon (March 2022). Longest season, everyone.

Double life is currently a year and a half old! (June 2022) Every mention of tilly, pearl being the devil, the scarlet pearl, something wicked this way comes, ALL of it, came from a year and a half ago

Yes, this means that season 9 saw the beginning and end of not one, not two, but THREE seasons of the life series. Longest season, everyone.

Speaking of longest season, anyone remember the esmp crossover? This will also turn 2 this year (November 2022)

Qsmp is about to turn a year old soon! This is less of a fact to make you feel old but a fact that makes you think "ALL THAT IN LESS THAN A YEAR?????", and you'd be right! What the fuck! How did this all happen in less than a year!

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

In Love, in War Pt. 1 | Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary | She (the reader) comes from a wealthy family in Birmingham, England and he (Thomas Shelby) comes from a family of no-good troublemakers in Small Heath. Their worlds finally collide when Thomas lands himself in the triage tent of a nearby hospital camp during the battle of the Somme with a neck wound. Past traumas and heavy-handed words open old wounds, and yet, they always find their way back to Birmingham.

Warnings | Blood, gore, mentions of sex (not yet explicit), war, death, and out-dated language ("Gypsies").

Hey- Pixies 🎶

Bodysnatchers- Radiohead 🎵

Word count: 1812k

Not proofread- my b, folks!

..............................................................................................................

Yes, she knew of the Shelbys, who didn’t? She just didn’t really care. She kept her life away from the dark underbelly of Birmingham, and more focused on the bright future in front of her. She was born into a good family with sterling silver spoons in their tea set and barbs strung into their pearls. She was destined for great things, good houses, and well-groomed men with boring Christian names. That was until the beginning of the Great War and most of those men died in the pits of France and Germany. She was engaged once too, to one of those men. 

His name was Frances Gild Jr. and he loved her. He was the heir to a banking fortune with a passion for the arts. He was beyond beautiful with short blonde ringlets and blue eyes. Her daddy loved him and blessed the union when Francis asked for her hand, sliding a large diamond engagement ring onto her finger. That was two months before Britain joined the war. They were still naive enough to sneak behind the kitchen into the distant sheds to have their way with one another. They were young and prudent so their kisses were prideful and polite. Their love-making was brief and unexceptional, legs splayed in the air and fine silk ripped by old sawdust. When the war began, Francis was 20, two years her senior and assumed he was ready for war because his daddy was a Lieutenant. 

There was no time for a wedding, at least that’s what Francis said as he rushed to the front. To wait for his return and to do her part in the war effort, she trained as a nurse. Was she a good nurse? Not particularly. She often fainted from the sight of blood which brought discomfort simply from her period much less an amputated appendage. But she learned how to cope, mostly. The smell of blood was the hardest to ignore. It seemed to never wash out as much as she scrubbed beneath the beds of her nails and behind her ears, the smell was a constant companion. 

It took her a couple of months to complete the basic training course but soon after she was sent to a hospital in London to work on more serious injuries before going directly into the field. She was allowed to go home on the weekends to visit her parents in Birmingham’s wealthier neighborhoods. The job was hard and it didn’t pay well but it afforded her a bit of peace in the whole ordeal, knowing that she was helping English soldiers in some small way. She felt like she could reach Frances through these patients who came in for breaks and fractures, not gunshots or paranoia. It was during one of these long night shifts that she received the telegram postmarked from Frances Gild. She opened the envelope without concern, having received one a week since the beginning of April. That is the night she learned that Francis Gild jr. had died somewhere on the western front, spoiling in mud like old fruit. She’d overlooked the postage from Birmingham, assuming it was just another letter from her fiance, which it wasn’t. It bore his death in plain script, emotionless and frigid. 

“FRANCIS DEAD STOP KILLED IN ACTION STOP WILL SEND NEWS STOP GOD BLESS STOP.” 

She dropped the yellow paper on the clean linoleum floor and felt her jaw fall open in a shocked gasp. Nurses on the night shift rushed to quiet her or comfort her. She paled and clutched the sharp edge of the desk for support. 

“It will be ok.” Voices whispered in her ear. 

“You poor soul.” Others crossed themselves like preventing a bad curse, a hex. A dead fiance disease that carries onto young well-meaning women in close proximity; more always follow the first. 

Francis was the first for her. He was many of her firsts. In a cab back to Birmingham, she thought of the first time they had made-love. He’d finished in a matter of minutes, panting against her chest like a puppy. His eyes bore into her with more passion than his thrusts. He was her first kiss, stolen after dinner behind the china cabinet when the adults had gone through to tea and brandy. That man was dead now, and she imagined his beautiful blue eyes closed forever under the casket’s heavy lid, buried somewhere in his family’s mausoleum outside Birmingham. And what did this leave her? Not a widow, and yet, she believed in a way, she was. 

She was excused from service for three months, allotting her the same mourning period as a widow though she officially lacked the title. She was nearly two years into her training when Francis died and the war waged on in countries that seemed so far away from her house on Claremont. When she was called back to service, she went with a black armband and her light blue uniform. She was dispatched to France and left right away with a British medical unit, relieving the unit stationed at the Somme. During her months of mourning, she had avoided newspapers and prints about the war in France, so the Somme meant nothing to her. They were escorted in large covered trucks with heavy trunks of supplies and rations. Americans followed behind, whistling after the young nurses like the warning knell of a whizbang. 

The medical camp was a shock for her in sight, smell, and noise. Distant bombing and gunfire rang in her ears and vibrated the very pit of her soul. Blood and the threat of blood was as thick as the mud encircling the camp. She thought back to the sterling silver spoons of her youth as she waded through the fecal matter and mud to the office tent. She was assigned to triage. 

“Just assess the situation. Write down the serious injuries, treat the basics, and set those aside who will live for the next few hours. Use your judgment, girls.” The head nurse directed them, holding the girl back as the others hurried to the triage tent. “Word of advice?” The head nurse pursed her lips. 

“Yes, ma’am?” The girl responded. 

“Take off the armband, you’ll look like the Angel of Death out there.” 

She removed the armband strapped around her arm as she moved to the triage tent. Soldiers screamed and pleaded for assistance while others lay dying and without the strength to speak. She followed the movements of the other nurses, checking the bodies and scrambling for pencils and paper dotting with blood and mud. 

“Please help me!” One boy cried and grabbed her sleeve. She recorded his injuries and sent him to the hospital tent. 

“You’ll be fine.” She called after him as he disappeared through the thick canvas drapes. 

She marked down the men she saw who could not be saved and passed them along with a sorrowful shake of her head. The men she saw passed her by in blurs of colors and sounds like silent films in fast motion, a puppet book whose pages flip so fast that a story appears between them. 

The second week she was moved to the hospital tent which doubled as the operation theater. She was not formally trained in surgery but had picked it up in the months of study and shadowing she managed to procure in London. As long as her patients didn’t die, the doctors were willing to let nurses take over due to the lack of helpful hands and skill. Her long habit-like nurse’s cap was pinned up to her head to prevent the veil from falling into open wounds. She washed her hands as another patient was carried into the tent.  

“God dammit.” One boy cursed loudly, clutching his neck with a dirty palm. She scanned his body for further damage and accessed the neck wound. 

“Large cut from metal shrapnel. Some kind of grenade.” A second nurse who had followed the stretcher with the patient. 

“Thank you, Mandy.” She nodded to the nurse. “Sir, I need you to move your hand from the cut.” She spoke loudly over the man’s curses.

“Fuck that. I’m gonna bleed out.” He growled through his heaving breaths. 

“You’ll bleed out if you don’t move your bloody hand.” She retorted, her hand full of gauze. “I’ll pack the wound so that I can look at it, ok?” 

“Fuck me!” He yelled at the tent’s ceiling and reluctantly moved his hand. Blood spurted out from his neck before she could clamp the clean gauze down on the agitated wound.

“Ok, ok.” She soothed, frantically applying pressure and wiping the area with strong alcohol. “Mandy, hold this against the wound, I need to close it.” She ordered and switched with Mandy, rummaging through a cart of supplies with bloody hands. She removed a surgeon’s needle and thread for stitches. 

“She threaded the needle and pierced the skin around the wound with the needle, pulling the two sides of flesh together with quick movements. 

The soldier screamed and thrashed on the ground. 

“I need help over here!” She yelled over her shoulder. Two men ran over and held his arms down as she tried to finish quickly. 

“I’m sorry, sir!” She weaved the needle through one last time and tied it off. Pouring alcohol on the finished stitches, she caught her breath. “It’s done.” She gasped out and nodded to the men. They released the soldier who looked to be on the verge of unconsciousness. Mandy removed the bloody gauze and moved to the next patient.

“Give us some of that.” He panted and pointed weakly to the bottle of gin she’d been using to clean wounds. She handed it over and he took a strong swig of the horrible drink. 

“I hope,” he panted, “that I never have to see you again.” He handed back the bottle. 

“I wish the same, sir.” She nodded and stood. His hand shot out from his side and gripped her wrist with renewed strength. 

“What’s your name, nurse?” He tried to smirk. She noticed his large blue eyes as she told him. He loosened his grip on her wrist and gave a nod. 

“Thomas.” He swallowed. She paused for a moment, registering his clipt cocky accent. “Pleased to meet you.” He added when she said nothing. 

“You’ll be taken back to the infirmary to rest. Try not to move your neck because you may loosen the stitches. Don’t waste the stitches, Thomas.” She joked lightly. 

“Is that what you care about then?” He smiled. 

“What?” 

“The stitches.” 

“Yes, and you by extension. Your life is my responsibility but stitches cost money.” She laughed and stood again. 

“Good to know where we stand.” He called softly from the ground and she allowed herself to smile as she met the next group of patients.

...................

End part 1 :)

[shadyufo]

Made the incredibly hard decision to have sweet old Henrietta put to sleep today.

She's still had a limp since she broke her femur back in September but it seemed like she was making progress on healing—it was just slow. When Pearl broke her leg back in 2018 it was a full year before she stopped limping (no limp at all since then) so I was hoping the same would eventually be true for Henrietta. I'd still been keeping her in the house in her cage at night and when the weather was bad, then putting her in her own fenced-off space in the coop during nicer days. She wouldn't stop picking fights with Pearl so I was keeping them separated except for supervised outings in the yard.

Anyway, Sunday morning her limp was suddenly much worse. We went to the vet today and x-rays revealed that the femur actually wasn't healing well at all. The ends of the bone hadn't realigned properly and the vet suspected a bone callus might have broken off which caused the sudden worsening of the limp. Nothing to do besides keep her caged and on pain meds for the rest of her life or get in touch with a specialist for surgery, even a potential amputation which I've never even heard of being done on a chicken. She's 9 years old, would have been 10 in April, and while she was definitely a tough gal I just didn't want to put her through all of that. So I opted to just let her rest.

Cried my freaking eyes out man. The vet tech who was helping us started crying too and I felt so bad but she was so sweet and kind. You folks in the veterinary field are absolute angels and I know I and so many others can't thank you enough for all the incredible care and compassion you show our beloved pets, even the unconventional ones. You are SO appreciated.

Rest easy, sweet Henrietta—the last of the Golden Nuggets. <3

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 105 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: The model apartment was overrun with foreign visitors, Violet’s first NYFW showing was tainted by being demoted back to Miss Fame’s office, and Pearl’s womanizing ways repeatedly landed her in hot water. 

This Chapter: Galactica Runway Show Day! But will anyone come out alive? 

***

Gigi sighed contently, still half asleep, as Symone shifted in her arms. With how packed the apartment was, they’d been sharing Symone’s bed and letting one of their Eastern European visitors take hers. (Gigi felt a little bad that she still didn’t know the girl’s name, but every time she said it, it sounded different.) 

Normally, she might overthink the whole bed-sharing thing, especially this many days in a row, but since they literally had 3 other girls in the room (the one in her bed and 2 on the floor), it felt more like summer camp. It was nice, actually, having Symone so close and cuddly all night without any pressure or expectations. She pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, nose brushing against the silky edge of her bonnet. 

Symone turned her head, whispering, “Hey.” 

“Hi,” Gigi whispered back. 

“Did you sleep okay?” 

“Mmhmm…” Gigi touched her cheek, enjoying how perfectly soft and smooth it felt. How, in spite of the other girls in the room with them, the covers gave them their own private little cocoon of quiet warmth. “Did I tell you how pretty you looked last night?” 

“No…but you can tell me now.” Symone grinned, fluttering her lashes. 

Gigi giggled and kissed her on the nose. 

“You were the most beautiful girl in the room,” she said honestly. “Nobody could take their eyes off you.” 

“Well…I didn’t notice. I was just looking at you,” Symone replied, making Gigi’s cheeks heat up. 

They’d been to a cocktail party celebrating Hugo Boss’s new cologne and perfume line, ‘Boss: the scent,’ which was a stupid name if you asked Gigi. Not that anyone did. It was still weird to her that so much of their job centered on events that they probably technically shouldn’t be allowed to attend, since neither of them were 20 years old yet. Although, at least they were over 18, unlike the girl in her bed right now, who she was pretty sure was barely 16 at most. She wanted to look after her, but on the other hand, what business did she have doing that when she felt like a kid herself most of the time? She shook the thought from her head and directed her attention back to her girlfriend. 

Gigi leaned forward, brushing a kiss against Symone’s lips, when she was startled by a voice moaning out a distressed, “SYMOOOOONE!”

She sprang back a bit, lowering the covers, to see Tatianna clambering into their room, doing her best to avoid stepping on the girls on the floor, brow furrowed. 

“OW!” one of the girls shrieked.

“Sorry!” Tati said, “Sorry, sorry…” 

The girl sat up, rubbing her head with a petulant look on her face. 

“Omigod, I’m freaking out about today! Did Sutan say anything about nails? Why am I freaking out?” Tati flung herself onto the bed, groaning, holding out her hands for Symone to inspect. 

“You’ll be fine,” Symone assured her. “They chose you because they want you. Just take off the polish from yesterday and show up on time with me and Bim.” 

Gigi swallowed. She still felt a little disappointed that she wasn’t walking in the Galactica show with Symone and Tati and Bimini—it felt strange to be one of the only “Amrull girls” not to book that job, like some black mark on her record. 

“Tati, can I borrow this top?” someone called, poking their head into the room.

“Okay,” Tati sighed. 

“Ladies!” Another visitor squeezed into their room, as Tia entered with a big smile. “Anyone up for a breakfast today besides fucking porridge? No shade to our dormitory mum, but I’m not Oliver Twist. Anyway, I heard that the Waverly Diner is quite nice. What do you say?” 

“Sounds good to me!” Tati enthused. 

“Yeah! What do you think, babe? We don’t have to be at Hilfiger until 11, but I know you had that other thing to take care of…” Symone turned to Gigi with one eyebrow raised, clearly giving her an out. 

“Right. Um…” 

“Can I come?” piped up a brunette from the floor, yawning.

“What thing?” Tia asked, head cocked. 

Gigi liked Tia, she supposed. Or, she didn’t have any reason not to like Tia. Not a good reason, anyway, besides just feeling like there was something a little off about her energy. Something that rubbed her the wrong way. 

“Nothing, I can come,” Gigi said. 

“Smashing!” 

“Coffee’ll be ready in 4 minutes!” shouted a voice from the hallway. 

“That’s mine you bitch!” screamed another. Soon, the voices were indistinguishable, a cacophonous blend. 

Gigi flopped back against the pillow, her quiet and peaceful little moment with Symone over as the chaos of the morning bloomed all around her, now impossible to ignore. 

***

Raja watched as the Galactica staff moved swiftly backstage like a choreographed dance, everyone focusing on their individual tasks. She checked her watch. It was a men’s Rolex, the strap too thick for her wrist, but Raja liked wearing it, liked it a lot more than the slender feminine watches that didn’t exude the type of ‘fuck you’ power she needed. This particular one was a gift from Raven, a belated engagement gift given to her with a smirk and a request to test if it really was waterproof, Raja forcing Raven to come and come and come on her fingers until she sobbed into the sheets.

Raja pulled herself together, refocusing, thoughts of Raven’s body and the adorable way she cried for mercy really not what she needed on a day like today.

Fame always insisted on having their shows in the last slot of the day. While it did give her more hours to stress, it also meant that nobody had other shows and events to rush off to, so people were more relaxed. Or, as her business partner was now explaining to Shea, “In a more receptive head space. And, of course, there’s the added bonus that we can have our cocktail party immediately after the show.” 

They were, somewhat miraculously, on schedule, the models slowly getting released from hair and makeup. Max had a backdrop set up in one corner so that he could document every look for internal and archival use, while Pearl snapped candids for social media and the website. 

Raja knew Ivy had everything under control out in the house, her assistant keeping an eye on the floor personnel they had hired to manage the guests, the gift bags, and the press, the paparazzi probably already pulling up slowly.

“Raja…” 

Raja turned to see Amy from makeup approaching, her signature candy-colored hair a bright blue to fuschia ombre done up in pigtails, her dress tiered ruffles that resembled an expensive cupcake, her tiny stature assisted by a pair of absolutely massive glittery purple platform boots. It wasn’t anything Raja would wear, but she appreciated the girl’s commitment to her signature look. 

“Yes?” 

“Sorry to interrupt, but we need your opinion in makeup. There’s a bit of an issue-”

“Of course, let’s go.” Raja threw away her coffee, following Amy to the other side of the backstage area—issue could be code for any number of things. She was always Fame’s second in command, but it was never clearer than when styling decisions needed to be made, Fame trusting Raja completely even as the entire reputation of their brand was on the line. 

The issue in makeup was thankfully a small one; Amy simply needed Raja to make the final decision on a model who had gotten an accidental tan since the casting.

Raja was just about to leave, when she spotted Raven, who was sitting in one of the chairs, basically naked save for a couple of pasties and a beige thong. Raja did a double take, eyeing her up appreciatively, how her lack of clothing left nothing to the imagination, and maybe more charmingly, how she didn’t seem to notice that she was being watched. 

Raven was chewing gum, her entire attention caught up in her phone, three stylists working on straightening her long black hair, and Raja couldn’t help but smile. 

Enduring was all part of the modeling industry, the ability to completely disconnect from your body what separated the mediocre from the great, and though it seemed like her brother was losing faith, Raja still knew that Raven was the best.

***

The only thing keeping Violet’s raging anxiety in check was her years and experience at the ballet academy.

She was walking a few steps behind Fame and Shea, staying close in case she needed something, Nicky off with Ivy to be introduced to their more challenging tasks as Galactica assistants at a runway show.

It had been physically painful to walk away from her dress after putting it on Raven, but there was nothing left for her to do except hover, and no matter how much she wanted to, she didn’t have the opportunity for that. Not when Fame could need her.

Having Sutan over had accidentally helped her much more than she expected, the heavy weight of his body holding hers, his steady heartbeat and grounding presence keeping her mind from spinning out of control.

Violet took a deep breath through her nose, her fingers on the edge of her skirt. It would be torture to stand by Fame once the runway started instead of hiding away like she wanted to, but she had endured worse, and she’d live through this too.

***

Tati tried to stand still, doing her best not to think about what would happen if she damaged, or even creased, the priceless couture skirt she had on. She was a bundle of nerves, nerves she’d really hoped would have gone away by now. After all, she’d walked in four shows already this week, but this was different. This wasn’t Reed Krakoof, this was Galactica. 

Even when she’d arrived, there’d already been paparazzi setting up. By now, there must be loads more. Plus, so many people who could literally determine the fate of her career—Sutan, of course, and Bianca, who she really hoped didn’t regret giving her the recommendation in the first place. Not to mention the buyers, the brands, the biggest movers and shakers in the fashion world, front and center, eyes on her. 

It would probably be fine once she hit the runway. She knew that, at least, from her other shows this week. Once the lights were on, she tended to zone out and hyperfocus on her walk, her poses, forgetting everything. Backstage was another story. 

Without moving her head, she shifted her gaze to Amy, who was pressing a last coat of highlighter into her cheeks with surgical precision. She hadn’t spoken to Amy too much the last time they worked together, but she knew that Courtney liked her a lot, and she seemed like a really fun girl. She wondered if there was any subtle way to bring up that insane Raven drama—a little gossip would certainly help keep her mind off things. Although, seeing as how Raven was currently present, and the star of the show, maybe that wasn’t such a great idea. Better keep her mouth shut. 

Just then, Pearl Liaison strolled by. She’d been snapping some Behind the Scenes photos for their social media. She took a couple of shots of Tati and Amy before lowering her camera and giving a lopsided grin. 

“You look great,” she purred, then tilted her head, letting the camera rest on her shoulder. “Have I seen you somewhere before?”

Tati blinked at her for a full second before asking, “You’re kidding me, right?” 

“Oh shit.” Pearl’s blue eyes widened, and she gave Tati another flirty once-over. “We haven’t slept together before, have we? Because I’m sure I’d remember-”

“No, we haven’t slept together!” Tati said, trying her absolute best to keep her voice civil. After all, this was still a job, and pissing off Galactica’s social media coordinator, or whatever the hell Pearl’s job title was, would probably not be the smartest thing. But what an absolute twat she was. “Jesus christ. But we have hung out, like repeatedly. ‘Cause I’m friends with Adore Delano? And Courtney Jenek?” 

“Oh…” Pearl’s face fell a bit, at least managing to look a little chagrined. 

“Yeah, oh. So you’re like, kind of barking up the wrong fucking tree.” Tati said, crossing her arms. She couldn’t believe the gall of this girl. 

“Right.” Pearl cleared her throat awkwardly, taking a step back. “Uh, sorry…um…tell Adore I said hi.” 

*

April was triple-checking that all the clothes for the changes were properly tagged when she saw the trainwreck begin, and then watched it all unfold with morbid glee. For years, she’d witnessed every woman Pearl so much as glance at throw themself at her feet, so seeing someone so blatantly reject her advances was hilariously refreshing. 

“Uh, sorry…um…tell Adore I said hi,” Pearl was telling her, clearly a bit embarrassed.  

“No.” Tati replied flatly.

At that, April couldn’t help but let out a snorting laugh. She covered her mouth with her hand but it was too late. Pearl looked over at her, giving her a bit of a dirty look. She waved back, owning it. 

“Liaison! Come here!” she called, a delighted grin still on her face. 

Pearl walked over, a look on her face that was an unfamiliar cross between a scowl and a pout, the expression of someone clearly used to getting her way 100% of the time, disoriented by this turn of events where one thing didn’t come out in her favor. 

“What?” Pearl asked. 

“Nothing,” April giggled, “Just nice to see you get taken down a peg. Also, you’re welcome for rescuing you from that awkwardness.” 

“Thanks a lot.” Pearl huffed, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes.

April laughed again, reaching forward to tug on her hair. “Come on, it was funny. And it’s not like your ego can’t take it.” 

“You don’t know what my ego can take. Maybe I have very low self esteem,” Pearl said, tossing her hair. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah. Maybe that was really devastating for me,” she continued, playing it up, one hand on her heart, brow furrowed, full lips quivering.  

“Hmm…yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry.” April placed a hand on her shoulder. “Tell you what. Assuming we all survive this show in one piece, I’ll nurse your wounds at the afterparty.” 

“Deal,” Pearl said, holding up her fist to bump with April’s.

“Now get outta here and let me finish my work.” 

***

Fame chewed her thumb nail, trying not to be too obvious about it with Shea beside her, as she watched the live feed on the backstage screen, cameras mounted to the end of the runway, just behind the photography pit.

The first model had done well, the opening exactly as Fame had imagined it, Alexis’s dress a masterpiece, the looks now coming one after the other.

This was her collection, her vision come to life. The models practically floated down the runway, all perfectly embodying the exact feeling she’d dreamed of, a fresh breeze whipping your linen skirt around your legs while your yacht sailed through the harbor at dusk, chilled white wine in hand. They looked expensive and sophisticated, healthy and untouchable, exactly like a Galactica woman should.

Fame tried not to look out at the audience, tried to keep her thoughts in check. 

The 16 minutes a Galactica show usually took always seemed to drag on forever, while also being gone in seconds, and before Fame could blink, the music changed and Raven stepped onto the runway.

“How do I look-“

Fame didn’t even need to finish, Raja right behind her, the models lined up to go again as soon as Raven gave her final pose.

“Fucking fantastic, Famie,” Raja smiled, squeezing her arm, “Now put this in your pocket.” She took her hand, gently directing it out of view, “and go kill it.”

“As long as it doesn’t kill me.” Fame hated being on stage, her appearance for the end of show bow and applause famously short, but the suffering was worth it, since the ovation meant that they had made it yet again.

***

Raven was bubbling over, happiness tight in her chest as she waited for someone to come undress her, Violet’s gown without a doubt going to the archives, the reception of it too good for it to not be regarded as a pivotal part of Galactica’s design history.

The show had gone well, the front rows even standing up when Raja and Fame had appeared on stage. 

It didn’t last long, cameras flashing more than a lightning storm to make sure they got a photo, Fame taking a single bow while Raja had stayed behind to wave.

“Princess!”

Raven turned, watching as Raja came walking towards her, grabbing her before she had a chance to protest, pulling her into a hug. 

“Raja!” Raven tried to pull back, attempting to put distance between Raja and what she was wearing, grabbing the skirt to protect it and pull it off the floor. “You’ll step on the dress-“

“You,” Raja put a hand on Raven’s cheek, guiding her in, holding her, controlling her, their eyes locked together, “were utter perfection.” 

Raja kissed her, and Raven melted, the feeling of making Raja proud one of the most satisfying sensations in the world.

*

Bianca picked up her purse, thinking to herself what an impressive show she’d seen, especially that breathtaking finale dress. She felt a little conflicted about skipping the party. She’d gotten an invite, but for the first time, no handwritten note from Fame or Raja, and when she’d caught Fame’s eye after the show ended, Fame turned her back, clearly not wanting to talk to her. The message was pretty apparent, and if she’d been on the fence when the day began, she now felt fairly certain that she’d be an unwelcome sight. 

She fished her coat check ticket out of her Birkin and held it up subtly as an eagle-eyed assistant rushed over to take it from her hand, only to then look over into her sister’s scowling face. 

“What?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Adore asked, arms crossed. 

Bianca sighed. They’d talked about this, albeit briefly, and she’d told Adore that she wasn’t sure if she’d attend the party; maybe she’d stop by, although she probably wouldn’t stay long. 

“Look, it’s just not gonna happen tonight, pussycat-” 

“You can’t leave. You’re my date,” Adore cajoled.  

“Nice try,” Bianca grinned, poking her gently in the ribs. “But Alaska’s your date, remember?” 

“No, that doesn’t count, she’s working.” Adore turned her mouth down into a pout, giving her very best puppy eyes. “Come on…” 

“You come on. It’s not like I’m abandoning you to a roomful of strangers. Alaska’s here, your friend Tati’s here. Hell, it’s a whole fucking party full of people who love you. So-”

“They love you too.” 

Bianca bit her lip. She knew that Adore wanted things to get back to normal. And of course, she did too, but unfortunately, wanting it didn’t make it true. 

“That…is debatable, at the moment,” Bianca said quietly. 

Adore furrowed her brow, a look of desperation in her eyes. She opened her mouth, about to protest, as the assistant returned with Bianca’s forest green vintage Versace trench. 

Bianca smiled graciously, thanking her, as the young woman helped her into it, then leaned forward to give Adore a peck on the cheek. “Tell you what. You make nice, play family ambassador, and I’ll keep on supporting you in the lifestyle to which you’ve become accustomed. Sound fair?” 

“Please, B, just-” 

“Leaving so soon?” cooed a familiar voice, right in her ear. 

Bianca turned around, sighing slightly. “Hey, De. What’s up?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Bianca Del Rio. Why are you running out so fast? Got a hot date?” Detox smirked, his eyes glittering in the low light like they always did when he was on the trail of a good story.

“If you must know–”

“Always!”

“I have another commitment. I’m a very busy woman.”

Detox crossed his arms. “Another commitment? On the day of the girls’ show? Really?”

“What’s it to ya?”

Detox smiled, that slimy smile that said he knew something about you. Bianca rolled her eyes. 

“De, tell her to stay,” Adore said, “At least for one drink.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, Adore,” Detox said, tapping his chin as he pretended to think deeply with his single brain cell. “These other plans she has must be very important. Better hurry, get there while they’re still…young and perky.” 

Adore facepalmed, clearly expecting more from him (why, Bianca wasn’t sure, it was completely expected for him to be exactly that tasteless). 

“Grow up, Detox,” Bianca scoffed, and began to walk away. 

“Bet you don’t tell her that, do you?” Detox called after her. 

Bianca turned and looked back at him, eyes narrowed. “Awww, look who’s all brave, wearing his big boy panties when the wifey’s not around to keep him in line.” 

“Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it,” he laughed, holding up his hands in mock innocence. 

“You’re an asshole.” Bianca shook her head, slipping on her sunglasses. It may have been nearly dark outside, but she didn’t want to deal with the press right now. 

“And you’re a-” 

“Ughhh, you guys! Stop!” Adore groaned.

Bianca looked at her, lowering her shades. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Stop stressing, it’ll all be fine. I promise. You can tell them I loved the show.” 

“Okay,” Adore sighed. “Goodnight.” 

“G’night, pussycat.” 

“No goodnight for me?” Detox asked. 

“Goodnight, cunt!” Bianca said, turning back around and heading for the door, hearing his laughter fade as she went.  

*

“Thank you so much for the opportunity.” Sutan smiled, squeezing the hand of the man he was talking to. “I’ll make sure to email your people, and we’ll see what we can do.”

“You’re the best, Amrull!”

“You know it.”

Sutan kept the smile on his face as he walked away, pulling his phone from his pocket to send a quick reminder to himself.

He was almost done with his official work for the day, networking on behalf of his models always intense after a really good show, and there was a reason that Galactica was known as the best in the business.

He had taken time to give each of his girls individual feedback, Raven rolling her eyes while Bimini had laughed at him, but Symone and especially Tatianna had seemed like they were paying attention. 

The show had been incredible, Sutan watching it from the front row, everything coming together and working seamlessly, Fame’s intense attention to detail and endless drive for perfection stamped all over the collection.

When Raven had stepped on the stage, an excited murmur rippled through the crowd, and Sutan had felt his heart swell with pride, Violet’s dress so distinctive, so very her, the gown the perfect way to close the show. 

“Sutan!”

Sutan turned, almost dropping his phone as Violet threw herself at him, Fame finally releasing her from her iron grip. 

“Did you see?!” Violet was smiling widely, happiness radiating from her. She had changed her clothes since he last saw her, her black dress obviously picked to blend into the background at the cocktail party.

“I did, I did,“ Sutan chuckled, the public enthusiasm so unlike the Violet he knew, her beautiful smile something he usually only saw in private. “You did amazing.”

“It didn’t fall apart or anything!”

“Didn’t fall apart?” Sutan raised a brow, surprise overtaking him. He couldn’t remember that ever happening to a Galactica piece, their tailoring department always doing their job, and Raven had been raised right, his soon to be sister-in-law knowing how to walk so she never risked tripping on a hem.

He was about to question it, to ask why Violet would think that, but then, he remembered who he was talking to.

His Violet, his girlfriend, the wonderful woman who more often than not wound herself so tight he was scared she’d snap.

Of course she had worried until the very last second.

“Oh lovely eyes.”

“I know, I know,” Violet laughed, clearly so thrilled and elated, the anxiety that Sutan had seen wear her down completely obliterated from her gorgeous face. 

“I’m really proud of you.” Sutan knew they were in public, but when he leaned down to give her a peck, Violet put her arms around his neck, pulling him in for an actual kiss. He felt his heart sore, a happy Violet beyond delightful. They broke apart, and Sutan grinned, “Let’s go get you a drink.”

“I don’t know…” Violet bit her lip, a flicker of doubt crossing her face. “I’m technically at work…”

“Hey. If needed, I’ll deal with Fame.” Sutan squeezed her, knowing that he meant it, that he’d be willing to do that for her if she needed it. “You deserve to celebrate. Champagne for the lady at the very least!”

“Okay.” Violet smiled, his girlfriend adorably easy to convince, like she had been waiting for permission that Sutan was more than willing to give her. “Okay.”

[rallentando1011]

Somnambulant Soulmates (rise Donnie x gn reader)

(continuation of this drabble)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Word Count: 3730

The late night bled into early morning, yielding a desperately deprived turtle the next day.

It was already well into the afternoon when he finally stirred following what could hardly be considered a restful night.

He did it to himself; he was aware of that. Still didn’t stop him from scrolling ceaselessly all night long. The only thing that prevented him from getting back on his phone this morning was the fact that he neglected to plug any of his technology in last night. 

Groggily, he leaned over to the side of his bed to place his phone on its port.

Regardless of his disoriented mind and the sleepiness in his eyes that couldn’t seem to go away by rubbing them, Donnie recognized that he should probably get out of bed.

Any time now.

Donnie blinked, waiting for any response from his limbs to the orders from his mind. After a few more moments, his legs lugged themselves over the side of his mattress, his arms willed themselves to push him up to sit on his silky purple sheets.

The softshell rested his elbows on his knees as he sat on the edge of his bed, his head drooped to the perfect level for his radial fingers to once again try to instill some alertness in his system by rubbing his eyes. It was, once again, to no avail, so he settled on just getting otherwise prepared for the day.

Donnie pushed himself up from his bed uneasily, taking tentative steps toward his desk. The terrapin latched onto the side of it as soon as it was within reach, relying on it to hold himself upright. Alright, getting out of bed proved successful. His attention landed on his next task: prepping his tech.

A three-digited hand glided over the desk to snag the purple fabric mask he wore on the daily. Donnie squinted at it to inspect the crispness of the drawn-on eyebrows on the mask and, upon finding them to be satisfactory, fastened the cloth around his head. His fingers moved adeptly and swiftly, used to the type of knot he needed to produce the signature triangular mask tails at the base of his neck.

After the mask came his goggles, mystically enhanced and forged by his own hand. Though uneven in size and color, the left side being slender, taller, with a blue lens, the other stout and red, their receptors picked up on mystic energy, had night vision, among other tactical, practical things, due to the mystic gems he’d integrated into them. He gently scooped his goggles up, mindlessly sliding them right into place.

Next on the agenda was his battle shell. Similar in hue to his mask and also made by the resident genius himself, the tech served many a function. It provided additional, albeit metallic, hands for working and fighting, it housed a plethora of complex and futuristic weaponry, and it executed its primary function: providing protection for his vulnerable softshell.

He slid the addition onto his back, relishing the satisfying click as it moved right into place.

No sooner than it was on, Donnie almost jumped straight out of it.

A screeching noise sounded loudly from beside his bed.

The turtle practically leapt into the air, unceremoniously landing halfway on his desk and sending a flurry of empty aluminum cans and pens to the ground.

Hand to his chest like a septuagenarian clutching their pearls, he pinpointed the noise to the nightstand beside his bed. His phone must have charged.

It didn’t sound like his normal alarm, or the one that went off when some unimaginable mystic horror was attacking New York.

No, it was an alarm that meant something far worse.

His face sunk as he leapt back over to his phone, hoping not to confirm what he already knew was true.

It was the unfortunate alarm that meant only one thing: it was someone’s birthday

Lo and behold, as soon as he turned on his phone’s screen, it revealed the name and picture of the one and only April O’Neil.

April, his best friend/sister with a track record of terrible birthdays which he was probably making worse by not having already messaged her warm regards this late in the day.

Yeah, that April.

For the love of Sørenson, he was in some deep water.

No, no, need to panic yet. Maybe the sentiment behind his gift for her would keep her from becoming irate with him.

He glanced back to the aforementioned present, currently sitting on his desk beside a dozing S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.

Surely the (possibly) sentient toaster he made for her that made the perfect toast (and definitely would not turn destructive or downright evil) would soothe any qualms she had with him!

…

He needed to message her ASAP.

Donnie opened his phone only to be subject to even more terrors.

19 missed calls from April. Even more from his brothers. Flurries of texts and voicemails and oh Galileo was he screwed.

The plethora of frantic messages led to him checking what time April’s party began, and checking the time led to a deeper panic to sink in. It started in negative thirty minutes.

A.K.A. thirty minutes ago.

Donnie froze.

Then he bolted, paying no mind to trying to message anyone back, instead haphazardly slapping on some clothes, snagging April’s gift, and getting the heck to her party.

He could fabricate an excuse/apology on the way there.

Probably something about how it took time to look this good.

Or, the more likely ladder, begging April for forgiveness. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had also had a late start to the day.

A late-night business venture had led you to messaging all night and boy, were you tired.

Still, you’d managed to get yourself up with about a metric tonne of coffee and a birthday party as incentive.

The birthday party, of course, belonged to none other than THE April O’Neil.

You had met her at a retail job, a fairly mundane one that had subpar pay and even more bland shifts.

Your shifts, however, were quickly livened up by April’s presence. She always had a joke to crack, or got into some wacky, zany shenanigan that led to you two laughing up a storm and/or getting in trouble with your superiors.

April quickly moved on from the job, resigning after she missed too many days and it became too boring for her adrenaline junkie side. It wasn’t that it was an infrequent occurrence for her to quit. That girl had worked just about every career in the city, an impressive feat in the Big Apple.

Despite how she bounced around from job to job from week to week, your bond remained sturdy, the two of you still frequenting coffee shops and sending each other dumb memes. 

Hence you found yourself awaking much earlier than you preferred, throwing on a cozy, yet nice enough sweater and jeans, and making your way to April’s apartment.

That led you to where you currently sat on her couch. In one hand sat your nigh empty solo cup, sloshing lightly with each flick of your wrist, in the other was a stack of seven appropriately foul cards for the ongoing game of Cards Against Humanity at the party.

The living room, where the congregation was gathered, was abuzz with light conversation and warm, glowy lights. The birthday girl herself sat beside you on the couch, one knee tucked over the other.

You knew some of the guests, having been acquainted with them from prior meetings: Sunita, a previous birthday of April’s, and Casey, a few movie nights with her and April. The former was also on the couch, wearing a silky magenta dress, nestled between the armrest and April. The latter sat on the ground, wearing ripped black jeans and a muscle shirt adorned with numerous skulls and crossbows. Some of those in attendance, however, were newly introduced to you.

Namely, the bale of turtle brothers that you met today.

April had frequently talked of her brothers and some of the ridiculous situations she got into with them, like leaping over rooftops, exploring sewers, and had mentioned that they weren’t the most normal of company. You hadn’t realized how much so she meant that.

As soon as you’d arrived, nearly an hour ago, the youngest had introduced himself in a very bubbly manner, with an enthusiastic handshake and brilliant smile to boot. The turtle was dressed in a snug, orange turtleneck (of all things), a mask that matched the color of the shirt, and deep brown pants. He mentioned his name was Mikey as he continued shaking your hand, much to your amusement and confusion.

A taller turtle, clad in blue with a major lack of clothing, save for his mask, gloves, spats, and a fanny pack, had gently shoved his younger brother away, saying something along the lines of “let’s not dismember the first new person we’ve met in a while.”

That one introduced himself as Leo, or, as he added, “the coolest one.” You were fairly certain you’d just call him by his name.

Next, you were greeted by an approximately six-foot-tall turtle mutant. Though he seemed intimidating, he offered a rather demure hello, only telling you his name, Raph, when April nudged him with her elbow.

The entire time you’d stood just in the doorway, trying to process the whole situation. You were quickly brought out of your stupor by your friend snapping in front of your face, at which point you offered up your own name.

With the greetings out of the way, you barely had time to set down the gift you brought with the other ones on a side table in the small, comely kitchen and get a drink before April dragged you into the living room to join the festivities, along with Sunita and Casey, who were busy imbibing and chatting.

Each guest helped comprise the good-natured atmosphere and the gaggle of silly geese that was partaking in Cards Against Humanity.

Speaking of the game, it had been getting out of hand.

A white card about a snapping turtle biting an appendage in an unsavory manner had made the tallest turtle, Raph, grow fairly embarrassed, his face about as red as his mask while Casey and Leo razzed him.

Many a vulgar word was jokingly thrown out about certain celebrities.

Even more out of pocket things were exchanged through round after consecutive round.

Once you passed a card to the correct player, you mindlessly brought your cup to your lips, tilting it back and waiting for your sweet refreshment to grace your tongue. However, the endeavor proved unsuccessful, and as you scrutinized it, you noticed a severe lack of drink.

Well, you figured that in between rounds was the best time to leave the living room and the game to get something else to imbibe.

You leant up from where you’d been burrowed in the crevice of the couch, the sudden shift and lack of warmth drawing your proximate companion’s attention.

“You all good?” April inquired politely as you stood up.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just getting a refill,” you rattled your cup, as if proving it bereft of beverage, and exchanged smiles with your pal.

As you stepped around other various cups along the ground, the blue one- er, Leo started to read through the cards he’d been given. “Maybe she’s born with it. Maybe it’s the amount of baby carrots-”

His voice trailed out of range as you dipped into the kitchen, mostly grateful for having avoided the rest of that sentence that made laughter burst out from the other room.

You merely shook your head with lighthearted amusement and crossed the room to two-liter drinks sitting on the counter. You rested one elbow on the countertop while your other hand generously poured yourself another glass.

Suddenly, the sound of three heavy raps at the front door drew your attention, your hand almost spilling the drink as you startled.

You set the bottle down, crossing back over by the door. With the ruckus coming from the living room entrance to your left, you assumed, likely correctly, that no one else had heard it. Welp, duty called.

So, you peered through the peephole to view who had knocked, only to see a hooded figure. Under their arm, an ornate metal box that you could only imagine to be a present was tucked. 

Though you couldn’t exactly discern who was there, the gift and overall relaxed demeanor of the person was enough to convince you to open the door.

The figure before you sighed loudly, almost out of breath. They then seemed to draw in a large breath, as if preparing to start a speech of some sort, but stopped themself.

A purple hoodie hung cozily off his torso, the lavender tint only slightly lighter than that of his mask, but not off enough for them to not work cohesively. Gray cargo pants, intricately adorned with zippers and pockets, complemented the other apparel, and matched the shade of a jewel hanging off of a delicate chain loosely around his neck.

You took in more of his features as your eyes roved over his character.

Amber eyes. Warm enough. Almost inviting if not for the subtle distaste, possibly sleepiness, written in the creases of his lower lids. His eyes, however, were not the most obvious quality about him.

No, that distinction just about had to belong to the fact that he was a turtle.

Yeah, that seemed about right. April had been ranting to the three other turtle mutants about the lack of their brother, who you guessed to be the man right in front of you.

A jade, three-phalanged hand raised, offered a slight twitch of its wrist. His hand. A wave.

You stirred yourself from your thoughts, hoping you hadn’t come across as rude for ruminating a moment, and returned a polite wave of your own.

“Hey!” you greeted nicely, taking a step back to give him room and passage into the apartment. “I’m presuming you’re Donatello?”

For a second, you thought you’d heard the name wrong, based on how he uncomfortably sucked in a deep breath through his teeth. Before you could correct yourself, he spoke up.

“Bold of you to presume, but I can’t say you’re not correct,” Donatello shrugged as he let himself inside. You shut the door behind him. He cleared his throat. “Sticking with the theme of presumptions, and the fact that you called me by my government name, I’d say April’s ticked?”

Despite how you tried to hide your caution, your eyes still widened, and you gave a weary smile. “I think that the card games have calmed her down a bit, but I’d still tread lightly.” The conversation paused, neither of you knowing where to continue it before you thought of something he said. “Do you go by another name?”

He blinked quickly, pondering what you meant before catching on. “Donnie,” he mumbled.

You nodded, sharing your own name. You continued on, not wanting to go back to the awkward atmosphere of about twenty seconds prior. “Well, presents are over there,” you tilted your head toward the table where a few other gift bags were sitting, “and there are drinks on the counter.” You gestured behind you with a point of your thumb. “Everyone’s in the living room playi-”

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” a familiar voice sounded from the living space entryway. April. She did not sound pleased.

Unsurprisingly, as you pivoted toward her, you noticed she didn’t look pleased either. Hands on her hips, lips in a pout. This Donnie fellow was in some deep trouble.

The terrapin froze from where he was setting down his metallic box, raising his hands. “Ah, April! Happy birthday?”

O’Neil was not having it.

“D, show up to my birthday on time, and then you get to wish me happy birthday” April bit back before heading to the counter and grabbing your drink for you. “Sorry about that,” she smiled pleasantly at you and, having seen April get peeved before, you knew to just smile and thank her.

Quip exchanged and turtle thoroughly perturbed, you followed April back into the cozy living space. You glanced back over your shoulder to see if he had even moved yet, but he still looked flabbergasted and left trying to formulate a response as he left your view.

You reclaimed your spot on the couch, easing back into the game. After only a few moments, the purple one emerged from the kitchen, drink in hand and dourness on his face. He lackadaisically glanced at the empty spot beside you on the couch and, once you scooted over slightly, plopped down next to you with a soft thud.

All of the other partygoers seemed very amused at his air, especially Leo, who grinned wickedly. “Look who showed-”

“‘Nardo, just don’t and deal me in.” If Donnie’s tone didn’t cut the joke down quickly, the glance he shot his brother certainly did.

“Yeesh, alright.” His brother relented and thumbed out seven cards.

The turtle beside you physically recoiled upon seeing the name of the game. While the game kicked back up with Sunita’s turn to read a black card, you gave him a puzzled look. He elaborated on his reaction, saying “This is garbage tier entertainment. Practically the card game equivalent of pineapples on pizza.”

Your lips parted slightly, and you squinted, trying to grasp that analogy. However, it was absurd enough that you let out a small chuckle.

As the rounds pressed on, you kept sipping at your drink and exchanging the occasional remark with April or Donnie.

Once, Mikey had said a combination of words that was especially rank. Based on his scrunched-up face, you assumed the small turtle had no idea what he was talking about, but it was bad either way.

“I can hardly believe we’re partaking in something so crass,” Donnie whispered beside you and placed the back of his hand on his forehead theatrically in a tone that rested in a valley between sarcastic and sanctimonious. You homed in on the former.

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely revolting,” you agreed jokingly, not so subtly tucking the four black cards you had earned under the hand resting on your lap.

You two made eye contact long enough for small, guilty smiles to form on your faces. The two of you hardly stifled your rye chuckles enough to turn your attention back to the game at hand.

Despite his supposed disposition against the game and his late start, he ended up making it to five cards first and taking the game, much to everyone else’s shock and dismay.

“Huh. Crass, eh?” you snickered, earning a playful scowl from Donnie and an encouraging nudge from April’s elbow.

The good humor of the group followed you all as you moved into the kitchen for opening presents and cake.

The confection came first, the credit for baking it being attributed to the bubbliest turtle of the bunch, Mikey. He offered a bashful grin when April thanked him for it. Before anyone could get into the heavenly smelling sweet, Casey excitedly reminded you all that a rendition of happy birthday was due, slinging her arm tightly around April’s shoulders.

Raph counted you all off, everyone’s voices taking a gradual crescendo into singing.

Sure, the chorus of voices was probably singing in a different key each, but, overall, it wasn’t the worst execution of the song that you’d ever heard. Plus, the sentiment behind it was nice.

Following the song came the cutting and distribution of the cake, which was a spiced sponge with a light cream cheese frosting to pair. You practically melted at the flavor, passing your compliments along with the entire group to the baker.

Next came presents. April delighted in the soft throw blankets and candies and plushies she received, giving each stuffed toy aggressive hugs and names. An outlier from these cute gifts was a mace that April handled warily. Casey’s present. Speaking of Jones herself, she was waiting with bated breath to see April’s reaction. Upon receiving an uncertain thumbs up, Casey loudly cheered, poking Raph in the face and bragging the superiority of her present.

Another present that didn’t quite match the others was that metallic box you saw Donnie bring in earlier. When April opened it, it revealed a toaster-like piece of technology, filled to the brim with dials, levers, bells, whistles, the whole assortment.

It seemed very… technologically advanced.

April was… appreciative, albeit apprehensive, with pursed lips in a cautious smile. It made you wonder if something like this had been gifted and possibly backfired before.

You hadn’t much time to dwell on the thought, seeing as Donnie jumped immediately into a spiel on the workings of the toaster, which button did what, its functions, etc.

April listened for all of two minutes before moving onto the last present. Yours. You watched as she made her way through the cute sticker sheet of random objects on the top, the candy in the middle, her favorite kind, and finally to the pièce de résistance.

April went slack-jawed as she held it up: a customized hoodie with Warren Stone inside of a heart-shaped locket, the text reading “Warren, my beloved.” Her affinity for the news reporter was evident in the sheer number of times she brought him up, so her appreciation of the man became a running gag between you two. However, you couldn’t have imagined a better reaction as she squealed and gave you a big hug.

Thank you’s and you’re welcome’s were shared between April and everyone there, and by that point, it was time to call it a day. Not before a huge group chat was formed with everyone in attendance and contact information was exchanged.

Once you grabbed all of your things and made it to the door, you once again wished April a happy birthday, exchanged another hug with her, before you were on your way.

High on your enjoyable time with friends old and new, you happily skipped home. Your new companions certainly intrigued you, especially the one you’d exchanged many a quip and joke with.

You wouldn’t mind seeing him again soon.

Continued here

(I’m working on adding plot in here so this a fairly short addition, but now I've gotten the introductions through with! I hope you enjoy!)

Taglist~

@rottmntsimp

[usafphantom2]

"The Hornet's Nest" by John Shaw. On the morning of 18 April 1942, Doolittle would lead a force of 16 modified B-25s—each with a crew of five—off the deck of USS Hornet to strike targets in Japan, giving America an important morale boost in the wake of the Pearl Harbor attack.

@WW2HQ via X

[lilliankoo]

“TITANIC” (I) SHIP OF DREAMS ♰ jjk.

♰ series masterlist / more info.

pairing: artist!jungkook x rich y/n!

synopsis: the port is bustling with thousands of passengers and the ocean liner- titanic stands in its all glory in front of you, but among all this pretty chaos, a man with paintings in his hands catches your eyes. this titanic voyage is bound to open new doors for you- which one will you choose?

genre: strangers to lovers, star-crossed lovers, smut.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: [things are just getting started] classism, descriptions of ocean/freezing temperatures, rich/poor themes, controlling mother, talks about (forced) marriage. future smut.

author’s note: things are just getting started, this chapter is more of a “pilot” and setting the stage for the plot! i apologize if its boring lol + i am not a professional writer :D don’t expect some Shakespeare level flow or plot building lmfao ok enough! lets go.

April 14, 1912

1:11 am

“I still think we have met before” you tell him as your teeth chatter and goosebumps ignite your skin due to the chilling ocean water. The subtle ocean waves roar and wrap around your waist once in a while as if they are inviting you; inviting you to go with them and let go of the hands of your lover. The lover who is holding your hands so desperately; laced are his fingers in yours as if this is how it's always been- you and him; hand in hand. Always & forever.

The tears cascade down from his cheeks into the ocean water, you watch as the teardrops trudge from his lash line into the saline water- one by one. He hiccups and looks around hoping to catch someone’s eye and get you both out of this.

“I need you to at least try to get on this door, there is enough space” he says hastily, tries you to get on the piece of door he is on right now, moving rapidly as if every minute is precious- which is, considering how the water temperature decreases minute by minute and it is getting harder for you to even blink. The little ice flakes sit on your eyelashes like pearls in the ocean; so beautiful- almost making you look like an angel on earth.

you smile dreamily as you close your eyes and rest your head on both of your connected hands; not even trying to save yourself because you know it is an attempt that has no success, “i think i saw you in france, you were selling one of your paintings” you say trying to ignore the fact that your lower body is freezing and you cannot feel anything. It is a numb feeling- not only in your legs but in your heart too. In your heart too, because no matter what you do you cannot change the past and fix this.

he drops his lips to your forehead and kisses it. tries to feel your skin for the last time but he can’t. Because his lips are freezing and so is your body. The kiss doesn't feel like the kisses he used to give you in his warm bed. The way he used to murmur promises in between the light kisses on your lips- however, this kiss feels like nothing but a false promise. “Everything will be fine” “we will always be together” when you know that the more you both speak the more breaths you are wasting.

A moment passes as he lifts his head from yours and looks at you. Looks at the way the cold gives a natural pink blush to your cheeks and how prepossessing you look right now. Suddenly, he remembers the words of his grandmother; something she used to tell him when he was a young kid. “Man glows differently when he is about to leave this earth and go to the almighty” he never understood what she meant. He drops his eyes from your eyes to your lips- which are pinkish like the roses he used to put in your hair all the time. In that moment, Jungkook swears he had never seen someone more beautiful like you. his smile fades when he realizes the words of his grandma; the words something along the lines of “glow and leaving”. his heart drops in the pit of his stomach deeper than the ocean you are in right now. Jungkook shakes your connected hands hysterically as he nudges you to open your eyes.

“y/n! y/n! open your eyes my love! ” his voice cracks as he hopes for you to respond back. waits for you to open your eyes, laugh and say something like “i was just trying to scare you i'm right here!” or something. but nothing. Not a single sound to his ears besides the sound of furniture and bodies floating around and the sound of the silent ocean.

A moment passes again, the temperature in the atmosphere decreases and Jungkook’s body starts freezing; ashes of ice decorate his eyelashes and cheekbones, his lips turn purple pink and for some reason he can’t feel his hands. can’t feel the softness of your hands. His eyes keep closing on their own but he tries to keep them open- because he doesn't want you out of his sight. scared that you might leave him if he blinked his eyes even once. murmurs “come back” for the last time as he watches your hands leaving his cold ones, watches you go with the waves as if you accepted their invitation. watches your beautiful face one last time as his eyes close entirely.

April 10th, 1912

7:30am

The port is bustling with thousands and thousands of people when you and your mother finally reach there. Some are carrying suitcases on their heads, some their children in their arms and some are waving at the passengers already aboard the gigantic ocean liner. Words like “write me when you get there” “bon voyage” “will you come back” reach your ears as you and your mother surf through the ocean of people to reach the boarding line.

“Darling, stick with me, we don't want these peasants touching your supple skin” your mother says, pulling you to her side and looking at the people around like they are not humans. like they don't have blood and limbs just like her. you scoff internally at your mother’s remarks, you smile at whoever makes eye contact with you. you notice the way some even blush and shy away as someone like you dressed in finest silk gowns, diamonds and pearls even looked their way.

Last night you remember how the news of boarding the ocean liner was dropped on you. “darling we are going to new york” your mother told you as she handed you the pamphlet- “ship of dream, the titanic” in bold lettering caught your eye and some sentences like “largest vessel in the world” “queen of the ocean” “once in a lifetime opportunity” and so on. you sighed because you know what this is all about. the liner is going to be filled with fellow millionaires and richest of the riches, this is nothing but your mother’s plot to find a groom for you.

Now, looking at the Titanic in front of you, you indeed can agree that it is truly the queen of the ocean. The vessel stands at a height in its all glory, the flags afloat in the air proudly as if they are proud to be displayed at a liner like titanic. your mother nudges your arm and motions you to close your amused mouth. you don’t miss the way she glares at you and almost says “behave” through her eyes. you nod and look around and smile whoever smiles your way. The weather is serene; the sun shines surrounded by clouds and the temperature is chilling due to the water you are being surrounded with. you and your mother both stand near the first class boarding gate as your mother informed you how the son of the titanic shipwrights “the son of the man who built this giant”- her words- will escort us and by the way, she smiles and rolls back her shoulder, You know it is something more. that the supposed man is the man she wants you to marry.

While waiting for the supposed man to arrive, you look around the port and at the families. you notice how some are giddy, some are crying and some are hugging their loved ones. your attention is derived from the crowd when you hear a man talk to your mother. “Welcome mrs.dewitt bukater” a man dressed in a black breasted jacket addresses your mother as he hugs her and kisses her cheek. your mother smiles and motions for you to come forward. before you can speak the man takes your hand and kisses the back of it.

“mademoiselle” he says and bows his head, not letting go of your hand. you smile and tell him to just call you y/n. he smiles and introduces himself too. “It's a pleasure to meet you Mr.kim, we thank you for all your pleasantries and the efforts you put in for our utmost comfort” you say just the way your mother made you practice last night. your mother smiles proudly looking at you and the Mr.kim in front of you.

“Just mingyu is fine, y/n and it is my utmost pleasure, it is the least I can do” he says while smiling and letting go of your hand. “The liner is going to sail in 30 mins, mrs. bukater if you don’t mind, would you like to meet my mother while I show y/n around? there are some things i would like to share with her” he says as he holds both of your mother's hands. your mother wholeheartedly agrees and enters the liner- however not before hugging you and saying something in your ear. “We are rich but mingyu is the type of rich that can buy you an island in minutes. behave and keep in mind what i told you ''. and you exactly know what she means. you smile forcefully and nod your head. you look at your mother entering the liner and as she talks to a woman you guess is mingyu’s mother.

Mingyu touches your lower back and extends his hand in the direction of the bow of the titanic- motioning you to walk along with him. “y/n, Titanic is the largest and most luxurious passenger ship right now '' he tells you as he walks you through everything the liner is made of. as if you care. He points at the liner’s windows and railings telling you about the metal it is made of. He tells you about the luxuries the liner offers, the gym, the personal orchestra and so on. you look at him and the way he sounds so passionate about it- almost proud too since his daddy dearest built it. you control yourself from yawning as this is a topic that doesn’t ignite any desire and simply bores you. The topics you usually enjoy are about art and paintings however you guess mingyu is not that type of a person. “y/n, the titanic has 16 watertight compartments designed to keep it afloat if damaged which means it is unsinkable, even the god cannot make it sink” he tells you smiling proudly as he looks down at you. due to the height difference, you crane your neck at him then the liner in front of you.

“That is impressive but you shouldn’t challenge the almighty that way” you say, unlinking your arm with his. you wrap your arms around your torso as goosebumps rise on your skin due to the chilling oceanic temperature, you look around and at the people in the third class boarding ; you see people trying to get on the ship as it's boarding soon. However, someone special stands out to you the most.

a young man wearing suspenders and with black hair catches your eye. Only the back of his head is visible to you as his back is facing you and he doesnt turn around much, a suitcase by his feet and some frames wrapped in newspapers that look like paintings in his hand. the officer asks him something and he replies. the officer motions for him to step aside. you watch the conversation from afar and come to the conclusion that the man is being denied boarding. “mingyu what's going on over there” you ask him, still looking at the man who now wipes his eyes- which you think is because of tears. Mingyu laughs and tells you how the business of third class is not ours.

you turn around and look at mingyu. study the way his eyes scan your face and linger at your lips. hooked. you smile and trace his jawline with your finger. “Well, Mr.kim, you're the man in power” you say and his breath hitches. his breath hitches because he knows where this is going. knows you are testing him and the power he holds. However, in reality the only person you care about right now is the one with paintings in his hands. the one that has tears in his eyes. Mingyu nods and tells you how he will take care of it. you watch him go over to the small crowd and talk to the officer. you are still at a distance and cannot hear what they are saying. you watch them from afar, the man still has his back to you, mingyu looks through some papers and just as soon as that man is about to face your direction someone calls your name.

“mademoiselle dewitt!” You turn around at your name and come face to face with a man that you guess is in his 50s with some streaks of grey hair in his black hair, dressed in a breasted jacket just like mingyu- wait, he looks alot like mingyu too- the man bows his head and you accept the hand he offers. “good morning mademoiselle dewitt, i am kim joong-ki, the shipwrights of titanic” the man says. the man who designed this liner stood in front of you, bowing his head. you were confused as to why a powerful man like him was there for you. you greet him back and compliment him for his work on this titanic.

The conversation goes on for a few minutes before joong-ki informs you how well he knows your father and wishes he was aboard too. However, due to your father’s diamond business, he had to stay back. “We should get going, the Titanic is going to sail soon, please come along this way, i will bring mingyu in a minute” joong-ki informs you while nudging you in the direction of the door.

“y-yes but i am actually wai-” your words are cut off as he practically runs off in the direction of his son. the officer in front of you motions to enter. Just as you are about to enter you look over at that man’s direction in thid class area and see him entering the titanic, you could only catch the glimpse of his side profile as the moment was short but you were sure that he was handsome. The giddy feelings sits in your heart as you think about how you entered the queen of the ocean at the same time as the man who caught your eyes.

The vague descriptions written in pamphlets about the interior of the Titanic didn’t do any justice at all to the beautiful reality as you look at the grand staircase in front of you. The staircase in front of you right now is supposedly one of the most impressive features of the entire ship. The ship tour started a while ago. Just as you entered the titanic, your mother introduced you to the women she befriended and all of them decided to do a tour accompanied by Mingyu and his father. from what you have heard from joong-ki so far- that this lavish staircase spanns six decks from boat deck to E deck and continues through the F deck. whatever that means.

“As you can see ladies, the staircase is crowned by an extravagant wrought iron and glass dome along with a large chandelier at the centre. The dome provides natural light to the stairwell before being artificially lit at night from behind. If you step down a little, you can see at the central landing of the A-Deck staircase is an exquisitely carved clock with allegorical figures on either side, known as Honor and Glory Crowning Time and At the foot of the staircase, on the newel post of the middle balustrade, is a bronze cherub holding an electric torch” kim joong-ki gives a descriptive tour of the staircase, pointing out every single detail. you watch as everyone awes in amusement while you wait for the clock to strike another hour and hope for this unannounced tour to end quickly.

It's been approximately two hours since the Titanic set sail and since then you only have been doing the tour and it looks like it’s still not over. “mother, i'm going to step outside on the deck and breathe in some air” you whisper to your mother who flares her hand around signaling you to leave her alone as you are ruining the important information dear mr.kim is giving. you smile to yourself and shrug before mingyu or anyone else can notice, you step out and head to the upper deck.

you take a deep breath as you reach the deck and see the beautiful ocean around you. you have always been intrigued by the ocean’s beauty- always wondered what’s deep inside the water and so on. you laugh as the air flows through your hair dramatically ruining your perfect curls. you laugh because this is the most free you have ever felt in a long time. you don’t need to fix your hair or act womanly right now. there is no one around but the ocean. you fix your skirts and smooth down the material of your gown before standing in front of the railing. The railing is cold to your hands and it sends a weird chill to the back of your neck. you smile and look at the lower deck which is for the third class passengers. Since everyone has just gotten on the Titanic & is still exploring and settling in, there are not lots of passengers at the deck right now- besides a man near the left railing with his back to you; who looks like is sketching and a group of men smoking near the right end side.

The man sketching sticks your attention as he holds a notebook in his hand and a pencil in his other. momentarily, he lifts his head from the notebook to the front and that's when you notice he is drawing the oceanic view in front of him. you smile and lean a little more to see his work when suddenly your bracelet unlatches from your wrist and falls on the lower deck. The very same bracelet that matches with your “heart of the ocean” pendant adorning your neck. For a moment you freeze and assess whatever took place just now. you look around helplessly and down at the man and the group but none of them noticed the dropping. you instantly run in the direction of the entrance and internally pray to the almighty that no one gets their hands on it before you. you run through the stairs to the third class entry gates. you run fast as you can and follow the directions displayed in the corners to the lower deck. Just as you are about to open the lower deck’s door, someone catches your arm.

“Madam, this is not a suitable area for you” a man that you guess is a butler warns you. He lets go of your arm and blocks the gate by standing in front of it. “Sir, i will make it quick, i need to go” you plead to the butler with tears in your eyes as you cannot stand the chance of losing your bracelet that was gifted to you by your grandmother.

“I am sorry madam, the third class area is filled with poor filthy passengers, some pathetic men might take advantage of you” he replies as he shows no sign of stepping aside.

“I order you to step aside before i talk to Mr. kim” you warn him.

“But madam”- the butler sighs when you don’t budge and he steps aside while telling you to “make it quick”.

you run once again and reach the area you kind of guess it dropped. you look up to the upper deck and calculate the location of the railing you were previously standing at. you look down at the floor but you meet with nothing but with a piece of paper in place of your supposed bracelet. you look around confusingly and pick up the paper. you unfold it and come across a scribbled note.

“Meet me where the nest resides and the stars shine brighter than they are, meet me in the pale moonlight and maybe I will tell you where we are - J ”

next chapter- brooklyn baby.

taglist: @currently-stanning-bts @justagirlinlovewithsevenboys @namelesskeid @jksbibomp @withluvjm @heartstealer-law @badgyalcedi @hellbornsworld @kissyfacekoo @september-husband @yourbobaeyestell @pointofviewyugyeom @ohcarolinamin @jungkooksmytype @erensfavblackie @kaithezaftig

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 9: Bound in Blood

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: To some, the blood bond is as sacred as marriage.

Word Count: 1,979

Notes: Today (April 29) is Lucy's birthday! This might be the sappiest thing I've ever written. Also, I couldn't find much concrete information on blood bonds, so apologies if I got some of the details wrong or had to fudge any of the real-life aspects of these bonds to accomplish what I intended in this fic. Don't try this at home, kids; blood-born illnesses are a thing. Warnings for depictions of blood, self-inflicted injuries, and smut.

Previous Part • Series • Next Part

The knife stung as it bit into the flesh of her left palm. Blood, like red pearls, beaded at the first prick, then rushed from the wound in a small gush as she increased pressure on the blade and it sliced deeper into her flesh. She dragged it across nearly the full length of her palm, leaving a diagonal, bleeding line from the base of her index finger to the heel of her palm opposite the side of her thumb in its wake. 

When Tommy had asked her what she thought about marriage, she had been honest with him. Her feelings were conflicted. All her life, marriage had seemed to be akin to a cage. She’d watched women–not just her mother, though she was certainly the most potent example–have their entire beings almost entirely stripped away, until nothing, not even their name, remained. Nothing but a maid, housekeeper, nanny, and whore all rolled into one.  

Perhaps she was being a bit harsh, but that was the example of marriage she had been exposed to for almost her entire life.

And it did not ultimately matter what Tommy wanted, either. She knew it was never his desire to cage or chain her. But it would not be up to him. Society had a very particular expectation for women who were married. And if he wanted to stand even a miniscule of a chance of being accepted into the circles he longed to be a part of, he could not have an unconventional wife. At least not now. 

Perhaps someday, with the changing times and more modern outlooks…if equal rights for women ever truly properly took off, then maybe. But not right now. 

And she would be a rubbish wife. Bored out of her mind. She detested cleaning, was an absolute disaster when it came to knitting and sewing, and she was certain that sitting at home with the knowledge that her husband and his boys were out enjoying all the action and thrills of the life without her, would eat away at her. 

She never had handled the feeling of being left out very well. 

She’d grow to resent it. Resent her life. Maybe even resent him. And that was not something she was willing to risk. 

He had been startlingly understanding, all things considered, when she explained her feelings to him. He knew her so well, he probably had half been expecting it. He’d just stroked her hair, kissing the top of her head. 

“I don’t need a ring and a certificate to know that I’m going to love you forever,” he’d told her. She’d locked her arms around his neck, stretching up on her toes to touch her forehead to his. 

“I plan to love you forever too,” she’d affirmed. And she meant it. Just because she could not say yes to being his wife, did not mean that they didn’t intend to be together for the rest of their lives.  

“But the door is always open. If you ever decide someday that you do want it,” Tommy had promised. Her brows raised, she’d looked at him with eyes that were only half joking. 

“Really? What if you end up marrying someone else?”

He’d scoffed at the mere suggestion, but must have caught the seriousness behind the teasing tone in her voice, because he’d pulled her closer, fondly kissing her nose. “Doesn’t matter. The promise still stands,”  he’d shrugged as if it were no big deal. “You decide you want me to marry you, and I’m already married, I’ll just get divorced.”

Laughing, she’d shook her head. “I don’t think you can ‘just get divorced,’ love. It would fuck your reputation.”

He shrugged again. “Would be worth it,” her laughter faded at the dead seriousness she saw in his eyes as he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I’d do anything for you.”

There was something about the way he’d said it, the complete and total certainty, that made her nearly want to cry. No one had ever loved her like this before. 

Completely. Passionately. Unconditionally. 

“There’s something else we could do. In the place of an official, legal marriage. If you’re interested,” he’d suggested, voice but a tempting purr in her ear. And when she looked at him, brow raised with intrigue, he smirked devilishly. 

And so here they were, kneeling in front of each other on the rug in the bedroom of her flat, each of them clutching a dagger in one hand, drawing it across their palms. Lucy watched the blood ooze from her cut, slightly flexing her fingers. She set the knife aside, looking from the warm, red gush to see Tommy doing the same, the dark red of his blood striking against the pale white of his skin.

He looked up, sky blue eyes glimmering in the low light of the candles they’d lit. Her eyes traced over the sharp lines of his jaw and cheeks, softened slightly by the freckles dotting his skin. Those eyes that could be as cold as ice or as warm as a sunny sky boring into her. Dark fringe falling over his forehead. When it was less styled, like it was now, he could have almost been described as a little boyish.  

The blood pooling in both of their palms dripped between their fingers. Sticky and warm.

Slowly, being careful so as to not jostle the cuts too much, they pressed their palms flush against each, then, just as slowly, interlaced their fingers.

Lucy gasped quietly at the feeling of his cut kissing hers. Their blood mixing together. Pouring into each other. Running through the other’s veins. 

If they had not already been one being simply split in two before, they certainly were now. Lucy shuddered, Tommy’s free hand going around her waist and pulling her a little closer, keeping their bleeding palms clasped tightly together. She tilted her head up, nose brushing along his neck and jaw as she did. He dipped his head to kiss her, deeply and open mouthed, the slow stroke of his tongue against hers making her moan softly against his plush lips. 

To some, the blood bond was as sacred as marriage. An unbreakable intermixing of the two bloods. The closest thing one could get to entwining their soul with another. Not only was it a symbol of the deepest possible love and trust, but also a silent promise of eternal devotion. A bond that would last as long as the scars remained present on their skin. A permanent mark tying them together for as long as they both lived. 

Of all the scars marking her flesh, faded but never truly to disappear, this was the only one she would ever truly be happy to have.     

His blood ran in her veins, now. He was a part of her. Forever.   

She’d have wanted it no other way.  

She kissed him back hard, the hand not clasped in his landing on his chest, feeling the steady rise of his breathing and the thump of his heart. Their palms squeezed impossibly tighter against each other, the blood coating them slick, smearing all across their palms, impossible to tell which belonged to whom. 

When they finally parted for air, foreheads resting against each other, they looked down together at their still clasped, bloody hands. 

It was done. 

Tommy’s arm around her waist tightened, somehow pulling her even closer to him, his lips on her forehead. Lucy closed her eyes. He was so impossibly warm, body large and strong and safe around her. She could have stayed like that forever. 

“I love you more than anything,” he said, and the words left tears brimming in her eyes. The weight of those words was not lost on her. 

“I love you too,” she said, angling her face up to his. “More than anything.” 

He smiled at her softly, head dipping to kiss her one last time before they parted, and his fingers flexed a little around hers. Their mixed blood was starting to run down both of their wrists. 

“We should get bandaged up. Before we both bleed everywhere,” he mumbled. 

“Mm,” she nuzzled at his chest. “Yeah.”

He reached for the gauze and bandages they’d set to the side in preparation. Some of the blood had congealed, half sticking their palms together, and it took a little bit of gentle fidgeting to pull them apart. Lucy hissed as Tommy poured a helping of alcohol over her cut, leaning into the kiss he brushed against her temple in apology. They cleaned and bandaged each other’s cuts with quick, practiced movements, examining their handiwork critically to ensure it was satisfactory and wouldn’t leave the other open to any complications or difficulty in healing.

Once that was done, Tommy was gathering her back up into his arms again, kissing her everywhere he would possibly reach. She giggled, overjoyed at the blatant display of affection, returning it as eagerly as she knew how. Strong arms scooping her up by the back of her thighs, he lifted her up onto his hips, standing in one fluid motion and carrying her towards the bed.  

Still kissing, they collapsed in an entanglement of limbs onto the mattress. Clothes were shed hastily, and then there was just the sounds of pleasure and utterances of love filling the room. Her fingers clenching in his hair as he kissed his way down her body, lips, tongue, and fingers working together once he’d reached his destination to make her cry out, back arching off the bed. 

And then he was over her again, wiping his mouth and looking far too pleased with himself. He grinned when she needily dragged his mouth back to hers, legs wrapping around his waist, eager. They both cried out when he sank into her in one deep thrust, the penetration serving as the second unioning of their bodies that evening. 

The bedframe creaked with the pace of their love making; thrusts steady, slow, and deep. Lucy clutched to him as tightly as she could, never wanting to let him go. Never wanting to have to spend another moment of her life without him. 

She’d given him her soul. And in exchange he’d gifted her his heart. And now, with their blood running through each other’s veins, it was as if the merging of their beings had finally completed. They were one now. No one and nothing could ever tear them apart. 

She cried out his name when his cock hit the spot inside her that made her see stars, his thumb rubbing circles into her clit. Her head tipped back against the pillows, babbling nonsense about how good he always was to her. How he always took care of her. How he knew her more deeply and intimately than anyone else ever could. 

When her walls squeezed around him, Tommy moaned her name like it was a prayer. Like it was the most precious thing in the entire world. And then his lips were at her ear, whispering over and over again how much he loved her. That she felt so good. That he promised to love her for as long as he breathed. Maybe even after that. 

She came with a sob of his name against his lips as he kissed her, felt it as he came with her at the exact same moment, filling her with a groan, hips rolling to a stop to rest inside of her as he emptied while she tightened around him like a vice. For hours, or maybe only minutes, neither of them moved, just laying there, holding each other as tight as they could. 

Later, Tommy laid reclined against the pillows, with Lucy cuddled securely in her spot on his chest. And there, in the dark and quiet of night, they traced each other’s bandaged cuts, and whispered promises of eternal love.

Previous Part • Series • Next Part

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[femmehysteria]

Best Character Named X Poll

FOLLOW @best-character-named-x-poll

I'm doing a series of "Best Character Named X" polls where all the characters have the same first name but are from completely different media, feel free to send in name/charcacter suggestions, I'm posting one poll a day. New polls scheduled for 1:30PM GMT everyday.

ask box closed for now

WILL BE POSTING POLLS ON @best-character-named-x-poll FROM FEB 1ST

If your favourite character is not included in the poll very sorry i have either never heard of them or actively chose not to include them as theres only 6 characters per poll. Characters will only count of that is their first name, surnames do not count.

Round 85: David

Round 86: Tiffany

Round 87: Charlie

Round 88: Sandy

Round 89: Cody

Round 90: Amanda

Round 91: Jeremy

Past Polls and Poll Ideas under the cut

Names that I have a complete list for*

Caroline, Tyler, Louis, Leonard, Rebecca, Steve, Nicole, Isabelle, Victoria, Katherine, Jade, Alex, Sophie, Greg, Jake, Ellie, Isaac, Robin, Tony, Annie, Lisa, Margaret, Oliver, Clark, Kara, Phoebe, Emma, Ruby, Bart, Alfie, Beth, Julian, Nancy, Penny, Margaret, Tessa, Erica, Theresa, George, Kevin, Sebastian, Felix, Martin, Michael, Erin, Caleb, Helen, Charlotte, Kyle, Martha, Diana, Elsa, Gary, Zoe, Connor, Colin, Daisy, Eric, Maya, Adam, Andy, Magnus, Alma, Nora, Alice, Spike, Leon, Marcel, Kim, Juno, Sue, Chris, Otto, Donald, Daphne, Kate, Todd, Ned, Ken, Angel, Judy, Jo, Hazel, Naomi, Diego, Miranda, Joel, Lila, Duncan, Dexter, Meredith, Pearl, Lily, Malcolm, Napolean, Joan, Nico, Jamie, Nadia, Velma, Jill, Kiera, Rory, Evan, Tam, Klaus, Neil, Derek, Michelle, Luna, Laila, Cordelia, Zack, Imogen, Felicity, Cindy, Alicia, Kelly, Alan, April, Astrid, Delilah, Jodie, Claudia, Juliet, Karen, Jonas, Milo, Celia, Hannah, Joy, Ethan, Katya, Aria, Atticus, Ian, Cynthia, Faye, Frank, Boo, River, Corey, Gabrielle, Minerva, Ebony, Zia, Beverly, Rudy, Georgina

Names I have an incomplete list for (welcome to send character suggestions)

Richter, Sean, Troy, Cain, Agatha, Warren, Percy, Reggie, Mina, Ryan, Felicia, Dylan, Josh, Shirley, Debbie, Jared, June, Mabel, Ray, Chad, Moe, Hugh, Fearne, Christine, Joe, August, May, Scarlet, Alana, Leela, Manny, Dean, Francis, Mason, Oscar, Quinn, Guy, Ulrich, Wally, Yasmin, Tobias, Woody, Sabrina, Quentin, Margot, Alina, Matilda, Freya, Kendra, Angus, Ophelia, Leisel, Zelda, Adora, Piper, Scarlet, Sheila, Valentine, Laurie, Laurel, Fitz, Violet, Gabriel, Ford, Artemis, Owen, Bianca, Newton, Summer, Darcy, Noah, Taylor, Miriam, Hugh, Aurora, Hank, Henry, Dawn, Delia, Cosmo, Wanda, Zeke, Cecil, Aiden, Calvin, Ayesha, Beatrice, Parker, Chase, Hunter, Tina, Misty, Amaya, Amara, Harvey, Talia, Tatiana, Tanya, Orion, Eugene, Kit, Bo, Duke, Blue, Cameron, Rudolf, Mara, Marianne, Carl

Feel free to send more suggestions

*subject to change, you can still submit a character if there is no strikethrough if you think theres a character that its an absolute crime i dont add. Please don't suggest anything for the names with a strikethrough as they are polls that are already in my queue waiting to be published.

Past Polls

Round 1: Peter : WINNER: Peter Parker (Spider-Man)

Round 2: Elizabeth : WINNER: Elizabeth Swann (Pirates of the Caribbean)

Round 3: Jason : WINNER: Jason Mendoza (The Good Place)

Round 4: Eve : WINNER: EVE (WALL-E)

Round 5: Fred : WINNER: Fred Jones (Scooby-Doo)

Round 6: Rachel : WINNER: Rachel (Animorphs)

Round 7: Arthur : WINNER: Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Round 8: Amy : WINNER: Amy Pond (Doctor Who)

Round 9: Tom : WINNER: Tom (Tom and Jerry)

Round 10: Claire : WINNER: Clare Devlin (Derry Girls)

Round 11: James : WINNER: James (Pokemon)

Round 12: Max : WINNER: Max (Black Sails)

Round 13: Simon : WINNER: Simon Belmont (Castlevania)

Round 14: Jane : WINNER: Jane Crocker (Homestuck)

Round 15: Victor : WINNER: Victor Nikiforov (Yuri On Ice)

Round 16: Mary : WINNER: Mary Poppins (Mary Poppins)

Round 17: Will : WINNER: Will Graham (Hannibal)

Round 18: Laura : WINNER: Laura Palmer (Twin Peaks)

Round 19: Ben : WINNER: Ben "Obi-Wan" Kenobi (Star Wars)

Round 20: Chloe : WINNER: Chloe Price (Life Is Strange)

Round 21: John : WINNER: Jonathan Sims (The Magnus Archives)

Round 22: Lydia : WINNER: Lydia Deetz (Beetlejuice)

Round 23: Mark : WINNER: Marc Spector (Moon Knight)

Round 24: Jess : WINNER: Jesse Pinkman (Breaking Bad)

Round 25: Theo : WINNER: Theobald Gumbar (Dimension 20: A Crown Of Candy)

Round 26: Sarah: WINNER: Sarah Jane Smith (Doctor Who)

Round 27: Richard : WINNER: Richard Gansey III (The Raven Cycle)

Round 28: Cass : WINNER: Cassandra Cain (Batman)

Round 29: Edward : WINNER: Edward Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Round 30: Carm : WINNER: Carmen Sandiego (Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?)

Round 31: Hal : WINNER: HAL9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey)

Round 32: Sid : WINNER: Sydney Adamu (The Bear)

Round 33: Jack : WINNER: Captain Jack Harkness (Doctor Who)

Round 34: Stephanie : WINNER: Stephanie Brown (Batman)

Round 35: Ash : WINNER: Ash Ketchum (Pokemon)

Round 36: Veronica : WINNER: Veronica Sawyer (Heathers)

Round 37: Kurt : WINNER: Kurt Wagner aka Nightcrawler (X-Men)

Round 38: Eleanor : WINNER: Eleanor Shellstrop (The Good Place)

Round 39: Nathan : WINNER: Nathan Young (Misfits)

Round 40: Fiona : WINNER: Princess Fiona (Shrek)

Round 41: Gale : WINNER: Gayle Waters-Waters (Chris Fleming)

Round 42: Barbara : WINNER: Barbara Millicent Roberts aka Barbie (Barbie)

Round 43: Sam : WINNER: Samwise Gamgee (Lord of the Rings)

Round 44: Grace : WINNER: Grace Chastity (Nerdy Prudes Must Die)

Round 45: Barry : WINNER: Barry Bluejeans (The Adventure Zone)

Round 46: Raven : WINNER: Raven (Teen Titans)

Round 47: Dan : WINNER: Danny Fenton (Danny Phantom)

Round 48: Mia : WINNER: Mia Fey (Ace Attorney)

Round 49: Matt : WINNER: Matt Murdock (Daredevil)

Round 50: Rose : WINNER: Rose Tyler (Doctor Who)

Round 51: Robert : WINNER: Robbie Rotten (LazyTown)

Round 52: Lola : WINNER: Lola Bunny (Space Jam)

Round 53: Scott : WINNER: Scott Summers aka Cyclops (X-Men)

Round 54: Olivia : WINNER: Olivia Octavious (Spiderverse)

Round 55: Finn : WINNER: Finn the Human (Adventure Time)

Round 56: Emily : WINNER: Emily Charlton (The Devil Wears Prada)

Round 57: Elliot : WINNER: Eliot Spencer (Leverage)

Round 58: Sonia : WINNER: Sonia (Pokemon)

Round 59: Gideon : WINNER: Gideon Nav (The Locked Tomb)

Round 60: Jen : WINNER: Jennifer Check (Jennifer's Body)

Round 61: Miles : WINNER: Miles Morales (Spider-Man)

Round 62: Lana : WINNER: Lana Skye (Ace Attorney)

Round 63: Spencer : WINNER: Spencer Shay (iCarly)

Round 64: Tracy : WINNER: Tracy Turnbald (Hairspray!)

Round 65: Luke : WINNER: Luke Skywalker (Star Wars)

Round 66: Natalie : WINNER: Natalie Scatorccio (Yellowjackets)

Round 67: Harry : WINNER: Harry Du Bois (Disco Elysium)

Round 68: Lucy : WINNER: Lucy van Pelt (Peanuts)

Round 69: Damian : WINNER: Damian Wayne (Batman)

Round 70: Tabitha : WINNER: Tabitha Casper (Dan and Phil Games: Sims 4)

Round 71: Nick : WINNER: Nicholas D. Wolfwood (Trigun)

Round 72: Gwen : WINNER: Guinevere (Merlin)

Round 73: Paul : WINNER: Paulette Bonafonte (Legally Blonde)

Round 74: Abigail : WINNER: Abigail Hobbs (Hannibal)

Round 75: Jordan : WINNER: Jordan Baker (The Great Gatsby)

Round 76: Donna : WINNER: Donna Noble (Doctor Who)

Round 77: Morgan : WINNER: Morgana (Merlin)

Round 78: Allison : WINNER: Alison Cooper (BBC Ghosts)

Round 79: Patrick : WINNER: Patrick Star (Spongebob Squarepants)

Round 80: Linda : WINNER: Linda Belcher (Bob's Burgers)

Round 81: Philip : WINNER: Philip J. Fry (Futurama)

Round 82: Clarisse : WINNER: Clarisse La Rue (Percy Jackson)

Round 83: Jeff

Round 84: Maria