#none of her ravens she sent for assistance ever reach anyone because they were all being shot down

[crownrots]

↳ SIDE HOTD (2 /∞ ) 📜🏹 DYANNA THORNWOOD ── glass is only brittle until it breaks, then it's sharp. (x) (x) (x)

[believerindaydreams]

It's Saturday night, I'll write some Colonel Autumn being a dick to Arcade fanfic if I wanna

Autumn

Defending Paradise Falls. Ha.

Up to now the arrangement has been going smoothly enough- the Enclave lets their activities slide, even pays half again what Ashur would for a first pick at quality captives. Given the alternative of being sent north to the Pitt, most people are only too happy to be taken to the shelter of Raven Rock.

Part of the bargain, though, was to save them if anyone should break through the defences- and so that's what you and your men are doing here, responding to Eulogy's urgent plea. Standing at the gate of a settlement wreathed in flame.

"Sir," one of the men says. "Shouldn't we be assisting?"

You watch the slavers, firing for their lives; and the flag of the Temple of the Union waving above Hannibal Hamlin's incinerator squad. A sense of overweening disgust takes you.

"Let them wipe each other out. We'll move in when it's over."

They wouldn't trust the assessment from anyone else; but you're Colonel Autumn, darling of the Enclave, and your word is iron law.

So they hold fire until the battlefield is only a cemetery, bodies of slavers and slaves scattered, and then you nod and they move in. Plenty of flame here to cleanse the corpses, scour this place for keeps.

Ashur will be displeased; well, let him be. It doesn't do to let any one faction in the Wasteland grow too powerful, and there's still too much risk of him rejoining his former allegiance. A Brotherhood with the Pitt's resources at its command could break the Capitol balance of power.

And as for Hannibal...well. President Eden doesn't care for non Enclave heroes.

So he's a particular priority to locate; and when your men report him in the clinic, defended by an Enclave Eyebot of all things, you raise an eyebrow and follow.

They aren't joking. Half its metal fronds are gone, it bobs up and down in a faltering pattern, but it's still functioning somehow. Impressive. They usually explode after the slightest tap-

wait, is this one of those Duraframe models? Damnit, this should have been scrapped already.

It does its best to zap anyone who goes near it; and any of your men could down it at need but they're all holding back, perplexed and disturbed. No one's ever hacked an Eyebot like this before.

There might be a good explanation, of course.

You nod at the Eyebot, draw your gun and place it down again. In its place, you hold out a super stimpak. It beeps, twice, and when you move forward it allows you.

Hannibal is alive, if barely; a medkit will keep him that way for now. The others- a mix of silver Temple armor and those new-fangled Follower coats- aren't wounded quite so badly, you can afford the resources to patch them up.

Somewhere around the second bottle of purified water wasted on someone who might not even be good Enclave material, you realise that you've slipped back into character, Lone Wanderer instead of colonel, and that's a foolish thing to do with your men watching in silence. They shouldn't watch their leader showing softness, or aimlessly pocketing ammo like a common prospector. Maybe it's been too long since you've travelled with Boone.

"I will fight you," Hannibal mumbles, training a lever-action rifle on you.

It has been too long. Taking this sort of risk doesn't befit this uniform. "I'm not trying to kill anyone. Shut up and let the Enclave save you people."

He lets the gun drop, but maintains a hard stare. "I never heard that your men ever left your Vertibirds."

You lean in close. "I stole this colonel's uniform so these folks wouldn't shoot me. They don't know I'm the Lone Wanderer."

His pained face eases into a smile. "That isn't a title to be claimed lightly."

"Believe me, I don't."

He chuckles, accepts the vodka you offer him. "I remember forging a claim just that mad and making it stick...all right then, Colonel. How about the slavers, any of them make it out?"

"No. We made sure."

"Good...Arcade? Arcade, we did it. We're still alive, and it's thanks to your medic skills."

The Follower he's attempting to wake groans, covers filthy glasses with the sleeve of an even dirtier coat. "Take two stims and call me in the morning. I'm done in."

One of the others is waking now, a short woman who was still clutching her shotgun when she passed out. "Hannibal? Arcade? You feel as good as I do?"

"Just about," Hannibal says warmly. "And I'm very proud of you."

She snorts at him. "Enough soft soap. I only helped murder, oh, every slaver in Paradise Falls."

None of your men would talk back to you like that.

For a moment, you wish they might.

*****

Arcade

Well. This is good and bad.

It's good, because the last time he was conscious had left him fairly sure it would be the last. The trip here was meant to be recon, not a full-fledged battle; Hannibal's insistence on always being prepared is all that had saved them. Well, and his own battlefield skills, which have improved of necessity on this coast. And Simone carrying so many guns that everyone in the pen could take one.

And the small Eyebot that's been their secret weapon, going in for the kill in tight spots. He's sure it made the difference between their life and death at the last, when Eulogy and his minions were taking them on personally.

And considering that, thinking of blowing up ED-E seems hugely ungrateful.

He repacks his depleted doctor's bag, feels the heavy weight of the detonator in his pocket. One quick movement and it would be over. Nothing to tie him to a piece of technology that he had no business dealing with in the first place.

An Eyebot bound for Navarro, never even making it out of the Wasteland; and if it reached its goal it would find nothing but dust.

Arcade raises the detonator unobtrusively, looks at the Eyebot. An Enclave scientist is trying to mend it, cursing under his breath as it beeps cheekily, bobbing up and down.

He sighs and doesn't fire, walks back into the clinic to meet Hannibal, who's beaming with pleasure.

"All well then?"

"Frankly, I could have done without the Enclave swooping in to loot everything. Simone's giving me plenty of lip for that. But we've found a few more survivors and the Colonel's men are helping out." His voice softens. "And Paradise Falls is broken forever. We can go back to the Memorial and be at peace, now."

"Actually, Arcade Gannon will be coming with us."

Arcade jumps- not least because he hadn't heard the colonel's footsteps. "Sorry?"

"Can I speak bluntly to you two?" Autumn asks, in an undertone.

"Shoot," Hannibal says, evenly. "Because he seems taken aback by this."

"See, it's like this...my men checked the records, they say he's a deserter. That means either him or his head. I'd rather it be him, you know?"

The soft drawl is attractive, but not enough to distract him from the content. "That's a- a mistake?"

"We have good records," Autumn says, looking apologetic. "And the Eyebot...the Eyebot was a give-away, you know. They wanted to know who did that. And more than that..." His voice lowers. "I need help. Badly. We're supposed to go back to Raven Rock today, and I don't even know where the damn place is."

Arcade looks around to see if any Enclave soldiers are here to witness this remarkable statement. They aren't.

"You get into some funny situations when you're the Lone Wanderer."

"Oh! Boone's friend!"

"...you know him?"

Arcade gulps down an incriminating statement. "Yeah. He shows up at the Followers tent for help with his addictions, he has a weakness for Steady. And moonshine. I tell him to cut back and he never does."

"Sounds familiar," Autumn says dryly. "My vice is vodka- he talks about me? Because I've met more talkative Deathclaws."

"Ooh...um, not that much. But apparently you pay well and you don't sleep enough."

"True enough...and look, I'll be honest with you. This scares me. An in to Raven Rock is the biggest thing I've ever been caught up in, and in twenty minutes I have to head there with no backup. Maybe you could come along?"

"If you're unwilling to go back," Hannibal says, squaring his shoulders. "We'll help you. I don't approve of people being held under duress."

"But I could do so much good by finding out how they tick," Autumn says quietly. "Even if it kills me."

"It will kill you," Arcade blurts out. "You don't know what you're doing here."

The door swings open, a soldier marches in and salutes. "Sir. The Vertibird is warming up."

"You don't have to go," Hannibal says, loading his gun; and Arcade knows that's meant for both of them.

"Duty calls," Autumn says.

And his solemn tone decides Arcade like no rational argument could; a man walking into hell of his own accord with no idea how to get out. Because he's trying to save the Wasteland, because there's no one here to help.

And it isn't even Autumn's responsibility, or heritage, or guilt.

Arcade steps in front of him. "I'm convinced. I'll come back to the Enclave."

It's the thing he's been running from all his life; and he won't let an innocent walk into it alone.

"And the test came back on this, sir. Scientists say it won't explode, but they can't quite figure what it does."

Autumn takes the weapon, gingerly pockets it. "We'll let them loose on it at base."

"Tell the Followers," Arcade starts, and stops. "Tell them I'm dead."

Boone would understand, feeling like destiny has caught up. He won't have the others trapped too.

"I'll honour that," Hannibal agrees. "Godspeed, Follower."

If it's the last time anyone will call him that, there isn't a better man to say it.

That's the last thought he has, as they go outside and start for the Vertibird; because Colonel Autumn doesn't take a chance and shoots him in the back.

The Eyebot that witnesses the act goes down next.

[backtothestart02]

Muse | Chapter 15 [5.04]

A/N: My take on that Iris-burning-pancakes scene before I watched the episode. Enjoy!

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Inspiration: Candice Patton spoiling that Iris would be making pancakes in a future ep + snippets of that happening in the 5.04 flashtime promo.

...

From the very first night Iris had been hesitant but hopeful about Nora staying at the loft. She wanted a connection with her daughter more than anything. Barry had told her what she wanted to hear, and she loved her husband for that, but still longed for substantial proof from their offspring that she would at the very least meet her halfway. Since daily interactions had yet to improve, Iris decided to try a different tactic: cooking.

Now, anyone who knew her knew she wasn’t a good cook. They didn’t flat out say it, but Iris knew it wasn’t her specialty. Because her family and friends loved her they responded to her cooking by complimenting her on something else or distracting her entirely, in Barry’s case usually sex.

But she knew she had to try. The thought that there were possibly no well-cooked meals for her and her daughter in the future due to Barry’s absence made her heart ache. Surely, she had not sunk so low as to resort to cereal and toast – well, cereal - for breakfast in the future.

Despite her lack of expertise in the area, Iris had always told herself that before she got married she would learn how to be a good cook. She’d been told the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach at a young age and never forgotten it. Of course, Barry fell for her long before she even contemplated trying to win him over, so that hadn’t been an issue. Her deadline for learning the skill then moved to before they had kids. What kind of mother would she be if she couldn’t cook amazing meals for her children?

Of course, that had been before their very adult child showed up on their doorstep less than a day after the team had defeated Devoe, leaving Iris no time to prepare to become even a decent cook. Sure, there had been a couple weeks before Nora physically moved in with them, but they’d been so busy and emotionally drained, and honestly Iris had kept to herself more, not wanting to squash Barry’s happiness over bonding with their daughter. But no longer.

Third day trying, she was going to make pancakes for her daughter and they would not be black or taste like charcoal. She was not using a malfunctioning toaster. She was using pancake mix, a world-class stove, pristine pans and spatulas. This was going to work.

…

Upstairs in his and Iris’ bedroom, Barry awoke from the smell wafting up from downstairs. At first, he was intrigued, his mouth starting to water. Then there was a sharp sizzle and damn it! from his lovely wife, and he knew exactly what was happening.

“Not again,” he muttered worriedly but quickly pulled on some sweats and a sweatshirt and cautiously went down the steps so as not to startle her.

He waited for a few moments. Nora was out already. Surprisingly, she’d gotten up earlier than even him and went on a morning run. She’d probably be back soon, though. Iris had gotten up early ever since Nora had started saying with them, depriving Barry of morning sex and cuddles. He knew the reason behind it though and was determined to be supportive, which was easier said than done when the one tactic Iris was using to bond with their daughter was cooking.

“Do you need any help?” he asked, inching forward.

Iris flipped six small burnt pancakes, agitated at how quickly things had gone downhill.

“No!” she cried, reaching for the plate to put her first failed batch on as soon as they were ready.

“Maybe if you just turn the heat dow-”

“Barry, I don’t need-”

But in her exasperation, her elbow hit the bowl of pancake mix and sent it crashing to the ground. That is, if Barry hadn’t witnessed it tipping off the counter and caught it mid-air.

Iris could barely catch her breath she was so relieved. She stared at the bowl in his hands, momentarily spellbound and completely missing how some of the mix had flown up into his hair.

“Perks of marrying a speedster, I guess,” she marveled.

“Iris. Iris, the pancake- The pancakes, Iris!”

She turned to look back at her sizzling pan and found her pancakes even more burnt on the second side than they’d been on the first. Her shoulders slumped, and she set her spatula down, defeated.

“Hey, it’s…” Barry reached around her to turn the heat down half the height it had been at. “It’s okay, Iris. The heat was just a little high, so you weren’t flipping soon enough. They were done seconds after they hit the pan.”

Her bottom lip trembled, her eyes filling with tears.

“Iris?”

He set the bowl down, far enough from the edge of the counter that he wouldn’t be afraid of it falling again and pulled her to him.

“I can’t…I-I can’t even…I c-c-can’t even cook pancakes for her, Barry. What kind of a mother… I… Why can’t I just…”

“Hey, hey.” He pulled her into his arms and rocked her gently. “You’re an amazing mother, Iris. You’re doing the best you can. Nora’s just been glued to me because she hasn’t known me her whole life.” He pulled away slowly and cupped her face, wiping away the tears that traveled down it. “Okay?”

She nodded, sniffling, but he knew she didn’t really believe him.

“Why don’t you let me help you?” he suggested gently.

She stiffened.

“You’ll still be doing it,” he insisted. “I’ll just be guiding you, assisting you. I’ll be like…your assistant chef.”

She snorted. “Barry Allen, assistant chef to failed cook, Iris West-Allen.”

“Hey, hey, none of that.” He turned her back to the counter, wrapping his hands around her arms to guide her. “Grab the bowl now.”

She sighed loudly but did as he said. Despite herself she felt a peace wash over her at the feel of him around her, helping her, his lips over her ear as he directed what she do next.

“Okay, set the bowl down,” he said after she’d thoroughly mixed it again. “Now turn the heat up – a little though, not a lot. Okay, stop there. Good. Now get the bowl. And pou- Good,” he praised, and her face lit up with a smile.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Now we wait.”

Her eyes widened, and she spun half around to face him.

“Not too long, though. Otherwise they’ll get-”

“Not too long,” he said, placing a finger over her lips. “Just…trust me, Iris, okay? We got this.”

He winked, sending a chill down her spine.

Oh, no.

This was not good. This was terrible.

Sexy chef was one of Barry Allen’s best looks. Without fail, it always made her weak in the knees.

Sexy ass chef helping her cook? Lord, it was a miracle she wasn’t undressed already.

“Okay, now flip. Flip, Iris!”

Her eyes widened, and she turned her attention back to the pan, flipping the pancakes one by one just in time before the light brown turned darker. She gasped at the success, ignoring Barry’s chuckle from behind her.

“I did it!”

He pressed a kiss to her neck.

“Yes, you did. Though you got distracted for a second there, didn’t you?”

She turned her head to look at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Are you going to deny it?” he teased, allowing his hand lazily resting on her torso to start drifting south.

“Barry, no.”

“You’re not?” He pouted, halting his hand. “Or you are?” It moved again, successfully dipping into her panties.

“Barry, Aaallen!” She stepped out of reach, then pointing her spatula at him with ferocity as he laughed. “Do not – do not even go there. We do not have time for this. Nora is going to be back any minute, and she cannot walk in on us doing-”

“Flip.”

“Wha-”

He glanced at the pan, and she hurriedly flipped the new set of pancakes on top of the burnt ones. She then poured some more of the mix onto the pan, and it started to sizzle again.

“See,” he said, pinning her to the counter after she turned around. “You got this.”

She shook her head at him. This dork who drove her crazy. That cocky smile on his face, that glint of amusement in his eye, the tip of his tongue darting out between his lips for no more than a second, telling her loud and clear what he wanted – her; right here, right now.

“Barry-”

His lips descended onto hers, and she melted into the kiss, unabashedly moaning. He kissed her again and again, and she forgot all about pancakes. Barry Allen’s mouth was much better, felt incredible, relaxed her in ways she hadn’t been for a while. She suddenly regretted shutting down sex the past few nights in favor of getting beauty sleep to prepare for successfully cooking breakfast.

“Flip,” he whispered into her ear sultrily.

“Hmm?”

“Flip!”

Her eyes flashed open. “What? Oh!” And she flipped them. Just in time. Again. “Oh my God. I almost-” She scowled at him. “You! You and your sexiness and your-”

“Me and my sexiness told you when to flip. You’re welcome,” he said and pressed a kiss to her cheek before pulling away.

She stayed mad at him for all of two seconds – because he was right, and she was grateful to him, and he was sexy as hell and walking away from her, and she couldn’t have that.

“W-wait!”

He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her.

“Where are you going?” she demanded.

He shrugged. “Maybe on a run. I’m not sure yet.”

“B-but-”

“Flip.”

She flipped almost without looking and found she’d created another set of pancakes successfully.

“You don’t need me, Iris,” he said, his tone switching from flirtatious to appraising. “You’re doing a great job.”

Her heart warmed and suddenly her role of wife superseded her role of desperate-to-be-perfect mother.

“C’mere, Barry.” She smiled softly, and he returned it, walking back over to her.

In the next five minutes, two more batches of pancakes had been cooked up, none with even the hint of being burnt, and Barry and Iris were making out against the counter, ravenous for the time they’d lost.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!”

They pulled apart instantly, making themselves as presentable as they could given their already half-undressed selves.

“Nora!” Barry announced cheerfully. “Come have breakfast! Your mother made pancakes.”

“Oh, great.” She forced a smile. “Just like the last two days…”

Iris swallowed the hurt that came with that tone. Maybe Nora wasn’t trying to be hurtful. It was certainly something anyone else could have said. But it hurt more coming from her.

“Even better,” Barry said. “Look.”

Reluctantly, Nora walked over to see the plate of delicious looking pancakes. Her eyes widened, and she turned to Iris.

“You made these?” She gawked.

Iris stomped the hurt down again, and Barry tensed beside her, setting his hands on her shoulders. His eyebrows narrowed angrily.

“Nora.”

She flushed. “I-I-I’m sorry, I just-” She cleared her throat and grabbed a couple. “Thank you. They look great.”

Iris held Barry’s hand and looked up at him, mouthing a ‘thank you’. He nodded and brushed it aside. No words were needed.

“Oh, schway, these are really good!” Nora declared, greedily eating up the pancakes she’d snatched.

Her parents turned to her, both critical of her reception.

“I mean it,” she said, swallowing her bite. “Thanks, Mom.”

Iris’ heart melted.

Barry pressed a kiss to his wife’s head and grabbed the plate of pancakes, in addition to other condiments and approached the table where his daughter was sitting.

“Want some butter and syrup with that or are you just going to inhale it speedster style?”

Nora paused, then laughed and smiled. Iris felt a twinge of jealousy, but she brushed it aside. Progress had been made.

“Speedster or not, it tastes better with both,” Iris said, confidently strutting over with a few more plates for the three of them. “Just…don’t eat the bottom ones. They’re from my trial phase.”

Nora glanced up at her, and for the briefest moment they smiled at each other. Barry caught it and smiled at Iris when she looked at him. He held his hand out to her, and she came to him, pressing a peck to his swollen lips.

“We’re finishing what was interrupted later,” he murmured into her ear.

She smiled brightly, giddy. “If you’re good,” she responded, and went to sit on the other side of the table.

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

[theartificialdane]

Andromeda, chapter 2 (Vitan - Cassiopeia)

In this we check in with our love stuck fools, Violet works on a dress, Sutan tries to have drinks, we make a call to Manhattan and a surprise is waiting at the hotel.

In case you missed it, here is a link to chapter 1

Thank you to @veronicasanders for being my beta and cowriter on this <3

“Stand still please.” Violet spoke through the needles in her mouth, taking a step back to look at the clothes she was doing the final fittings of to Aja Rivera, Dior picking the Instagram influencer as one of the woman they offered to dress. Somehow, Violet had become responsible for the majority of the celebrities and influencers who came through their showroom. She wanted to believe it was because of her level of craft and the fact that she was one of the only ones that didn’t speak English as a second language, but the atelier premierés and her bosses Florence and Monique dashed pretty thoroughly by informing her, "We know you can handle prima donnas with your history. Bon chance.”

The dress was almost done, a stitch here, a stitch there and it would be perfect.

“I’m going to touch you now.”

“Touch away, sis.”

Violet placed a hand on the woman’s hip, Aja’s cotton candy blue hair a cloud around her head matching perfectly to the creamy white of the dress. Violet knew her, or, she knew off her. Violet had seen Aja perform once when Raven had dragged her out for a ‘super fun night out’, not that Violet would have used those adjectives to describe it, but Adore has seemed so happy on stage that it had almost, almost been worth it.  

Violet started sewing, trying to keep her mind on the task in front of her and staying out of view of Aja’s team that was taking pictures and documenting her experience. But it was hard when her thoughts kept circling back to Sutan, back to the feeling of his lips, back to how she wanted nothing more than to be with him.

“There.”

Violet turned Aja, letting her look in the mirror.

“Wow!” Aja twisted, looking at herself. “I look totally fuckable!”

Violet smiled, this the first time she had heard anyone describing a Dior piece as something that made them fuckable.

///

“And then- Sutan, are you even listening to me?”

“What?”

“You’re too old to pretend you’re not using your phone.” Fame pursed her lips, looking at her friend who was sitting with his phone, tapping his fingers on the table while he was very clearly scrolling, his glasses giving him away. Fame put her drink down. “What are you looking at?”

They were all together at the Ritz hotel bar. If you asked Fame, it was a miracle that they had even had time for the drinks. She would much prefer a proper dinner for everyone, but her poor assistant Roxy had almost not managing to find time for this simple night of staying in and sharing a table.

“Nothing.”

“Sure you are, mate.” Karl smiled, taking Sutan’s phone.

“Hey!”

“Calm down you big drama queen.” Karl put Sutan’s phone in his inner pocket.

“I’m actually using that-”

“It’s fashion week! Spend some time with your friends, Sutan.”

“I am-”

“Leave him alone, Karl.”

“Thanks Raja.”

“If my brother wants to sulk, let him sulk.” Raja smiled lazily, sitting up from where she had been making out with Raven, her hand still in her wife’s hair. Raven was heavily pregnant, her big belly almost bumping into the table.

Bianca had snarkily asked if it was wise to fly with a whale on board the jet, but Raja had simply flipped her off and said that it would be exotic if their kids was born in Europe. Raja gave Raven one last kiss, before she finally turned her attention away fully, the two of them completely lost in each other. They’d been insufferable since Raven’s pregnancy had taken, Raja barely letting Raven out of her sight. Somehow, their utter bliss was incredibly irritating to Bianca, but she was doing her best to hide that.

“I’m sure he has a good reason,” Raja added

Fame rolled her eyes. “This is our one night all together, please pay attention.”

“Yes Blondie, because everything you say is so interesting.”

“B!”

“I only speak the truth.” Bianca took a sip of her drink, smirking slightly when Fame huffed and pretended to be offended.

“You’ve been such a beast ever since that last press release about Courtney. Don’t you think it’s time to move on?”

“I have moved on! More than our resident sad boy. At least I’ve been pulling some tail.”

“Yes Bianca, we all remember London.” Fame rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe I wanted to do something nice for everyone.”

“Some of us appreciate your beautiful heart, darling!” Raven piped up.

“Yeah, and some of us think the nicest thing you could do for the group would be to smother Raven with a pillow.” Bianca emptied her drink.

“That’s nice, B. Therapy is really working for you,” said Raja.

“I didn’t say me!” Bianca cackled.

“So...” Sutan looked at Karl. “Can I have my phone back?”

“No.”

“Karl, I’m serious.”

“Be in the moment, Sutan.” Karl smiled. “It’s not like anything more important is going to happen tonight.”

“No... Of course not…”

“Garçon! Around round for me and my dumbass friend!”

///

“Did you get the earrings?!”

“Yes, I got the earrings.” Violet rolled her eyes, as she held out her phone, a small smile playing on her lips. She was on the metro, talking to Betty on Facetime. Violet hadn’t really enjoyed it at first, talking on her phone like this, but Betty had been enough of a force of nature that Violet hadn’t really had a choice.

“You’re a lifesaver Shitshcki.”

“I can’t believe you’re already this obsessed.. They were on the runway yesterday.” Violet shook her head slightly, still not believing that Betty had fallen so completely in love with something from the Balenciaga that she had called her and begged her to do everything she could to get her hands on the earrings.

“And it was love at first sight.” Betty smiled.

“Of course.” Violet had gone to their showroom, lucky enough to get in since one of the assistants there recognised her from the time she had been Fame’s assistant and shadow for two years.

“You can give them to Trixie.”

“Is he in Paris?” Violet looked at Betty, the other woman on her couch in the cozy Brooklyn apartment she still shared with Shane and now also a parrot, the animal the closest thing either of them ever wanted to a child.

“Yes.”

“Oh..” Violet hadn’t expected that at all. If she was being honest she hadn’t even thought to look for her old roommate, fully believing he would be at home since Katya had given birth to a tiny baby girl just the month before, little Svetlana Zamoldchikova, Lana for short, joining her big brother Ivan and her new family out in the world. Pearl had sent her photos of the entire thing, though thankfully not of Katya’s actual body during the birth though she wouldn’t put it past the blonde to attempt it if she ever got the chance.

“You look good.”

Violet smirked, surprised at Betty’s honest tone. “Are you sick?”

“Urgh. Just shut up and accept the compliment.” Betty rolled her eyes. “Are you going somewhere special? Fuck I wish I was there.”

“No.” Violet bit her lip, hoping her cheeks didn’t betray the embarrassment she felt as she knew exactly where she was going.

“You’ve always been a terrible liar Violet.”

“I’m not-”

“Just don’t do something I wouldn’t do, and don’t forget my earrings.” Betty hung up, and Violet shook her head fondly, the list of things Betty wouldn’t do very very short, though Violet was more than sure that she would not approve in any way of what she was about to do.

///

Sutan sighed as the elevator opened. He had been checking his phone all night, waiting for Violet to text him, for something, anything to happen. The night had been fine, spending time with his friends usually something that made him happy, but tonight he hadn’t been able to enjoy it at all, his thoughts all focused on Violet Violet Violet. Sutan turned the corner, ready to get into bed, when he saw someone standing by his door, the white fur coat one he recognised right away.

“Took you long enough.”

“... Violet?”

“Are you in doubt?” Violet smiled, taking a step forwards him. “As far as I remember, I’m not the twin here.” Violet gently grabbed Sutan’s tie, pulling him towards her. “You smell like beer.”

“Yes, I had a drink with everyone earlier, I- What are you doing here?”

“I told you I’d see you later.” Violet looked up at him. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” Violet bit her lip, for a moment looking insecure, and Sutan put his hands on her hips, not even thinking as he kissed her deeply, their tongues dancing together.

///

“Sit down”

“Violet-”

“Sssh.” Violet pushed Sutan back, his knees hitting the edge of the bed before he sat down, his eyes following her every move. He was gorgeous, his cheeks flushed. Violet felt hot all over, her stomach like bubbling lava, ready to erupt. The night before Sutan had been in control, pulling her around, Violet happily following, but that morning something had shifted when Violet had left the car. This was her choice as much as his. She had had other lovers while in Paris, Nate and Louis, Juliette, Franka and Benjamin, but none of them had ever felt like Sutan, had ever gotten anywhere near what they had together, and Violet had missed his touch, missed his cock, his mouth, missed /him/.

Violet took her fur off, throwing it at the chair in the corner, a gasp coming from Sutan. Violet reached under her skirt, knowing she had his full attention as she pulled her panties down, her heels still on, the green dress Sutan had picked earlier that day still on her body.

“Please-”

“Lay back.”

“What?”

Violet walked forward, sitting down in Sutan’s lap. “Lay back.” She smiled, giving him another push, Sutan following her lead and Violet crawled over his chest, Sutan groaning deeply when he realised what she was doing, his hands grabbing her thighs and pulling her down, his tongue finding her cunt and Violet grabbed the headboard.

Sutan dove right in, his teeth nipping at her and it felt divine. No one had been allowed between her legs, not like this, Nate trying a few times but Violet had pushed him away again and again. It was so intimate, too intimate to do with just anyone-

“Fuck!” Violet shook, her breath catching in her chest. Sutan was eating her like a peach, his fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs, her hips thrusting down. She grabbed Sutan’s hair, pushing the man closer, Sutan moaning and she knew he had to be hard. He loved eating her cunt, had always loved it, would spend hours there if she allowed him, and tonight she was selfish.

She had followed his Instagram. Violet wasn’t proud of it, but it was hard not to keep an eye on Sutan now that she knew he was here, impossible not to look at what Fame put up, Karl catching him in the background several times, Raja posing with her brother in the hotel bar.

Violet felt Sutan’s hand on her hip, grabbing her, touching her, feeling her, his chest moving as his hips couldn’t keep still, Sutan thrusting into the air. She could feel his moans against her skin, knew she was soaking him, a deep groan leaving the man when she leaned back on her hands, giving him even more access to her cunt.

“Please, Sutan, please, just a little- Ah! More, please- I-”

Violet hadn’t known if she would actually come, had gone all the way home to Frida, taking the little dog on a walk as close to normalcy as she could get, but the knowledge that Sutan was there, so close, that he was maybe waiting for her to show up, waiting for her to make the next move.

“Ah!” Violet closed her eyes, cumming on Sutan’s face, her body shaking, the only thing holding her up his hands on her.

Violet knew he would leave, knew that she’d be alone again when this week was over. That nothing had truly changed. Sutan’s family was still the most important thing in his life. She knew that would never be any different, knew that she would always be his second choice, but tonight, he was hers.

[theartificialdane]

Galactica, part 245

Christmas is coming closer, and everyone prepares in their own ways for the holiday season!

Thank you @veronicasanders @toriibelledarling and @samrull <3

“Come on! Just taste it!”

“Are you sure it’s good?”

“I promise.”

Ruby looked at Max with doubt in her eyes, the brit smiling brightly, the man unusually enthusiastic. They had been at the animal shelter, Ruby somehow volunteering there now with Max twice a month, the man’s smile and his gentle eyes able to talk her into anything, but with this she wasn’t so sure. They had walked by a bakery near Ruby’s flat, Max stopping dead in his tracks when he noticed a dessert in the front window, a monstrosity that was unlike anything Ruby had ever seen before.

“It’s one of the best dessert britain has to offer.” Ruby raised an eyebrow, the black mass on her plate looking anything but delicious, but Max had insisted that a plum pudding was the best thing in the world.

“Alright, alright. I’ll take a bite.” Ruby took the spoon from her boyfriend, the word still creating a pool of warmth in the pit of her stomach. She bit into the cake, the overwhelming taste of raisins and rum filling her mouth, and Ruby wanted to spit it out, but in that moment she looked at Max, his eyes bright like a kid on christmas morning, and she realised that she never wanted to do anything that could ever disappoint him. She swallowed, the cake making it’s way down her throat.

“It’s delicious.”

“You really think so?”

“Absolutely.”

***

The meeting with Aja’s old housemate and proposed drummer, Nina Brown, had gotten off to a very weird start. First of all, the bitch had come in wearing cat ears and a tail like some kind of furry meets Josie and the Pussycats fucking

“Don’t worry about it,” Aja had murmured to Adore, “She’s a little…off, but she’s good drummer and super creative.”

And then when Adore was explaining her vision for the band - a group of free spirited, supportive musicians, gay women who all wrote music and gave creative input, all got their chance in the spotlight regardless of their role in the group, Nina cut her off.

“I don’t write music. So, I guess this isn’t the band for me. Sorry to waste your time.” She abruptly got up from the table and began to walk away.

Aja grabbed her arm and yanked her back. “Nina! Breathe for a second, god. Why don’t you show her some of your art?”

Nina rolled her eyes, sighing. “Fine, but I don’t really see what that has to do with–”

“Please?”

“I’d really like to see it,” Adore added. “Aja was raving about how talented you are.”

Nina pulled out a thick sketchbook and opened it. Intricate, detailed line drawings filled the pages, covered with swirling text. Adore read some of the text. The read like poetry. Or…lyrics? “Are these words original? Or are you quoting from something?”

“Original. Just…you know…a bunch of random nonsense…” Nina sighed, head propped up on her hands.

“Dude…” Adore read some of the words. It was free verse, a little disconnected, but there was so much there. “Nina, this is amazing. We can DEFINITELY use this as inspiration for song lyrics. I mean, if you’re cool with it.”

Nina raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Totally.”

“Huh. Yeah, I mean…sure. You haven’t heard me play yet.”

“True. Wanna jam? I assume you got the songs that Aja sent you?”

“Yup.”

Adore smiled. “Alright them. Let’s play for awhile and see how we all feel. Sound good?”

Nina nodded. “I won’t feel bad if you hate me. Don’t worry.”

“I already love you, but let’s just make sure you can keep count,” Adore laughed, slinging an arm around her.

Aja poked Nina in the side. “What did I tell you, Neens? It’s gonna be impossible to keep that stormcloud over your head with this little precious muffin around. She’s too fucking cute.”

“I can see that,” Nina agreed, picking up her drumsticks. “Seems exhausting.”

“So Nina will be in charge of team spirit,” Aja explained.

Adore giggled, slinging her guitar strap over her shoulder. “Hey, as long as she can play, and keeps writing that fucking sickening poetry, I don’t give a fuck about team spirit. You do you, girl.”

Nina finally cracked a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

“How about we try ‘I Can’t Love You’?”

“Copy,” Nina said, counting them in, “5, 6, 7, 8…”

***

“That’s the last of it!” Pearl smiled as she carried the final shipment of boxes into Trixie’s office. “I can’t believe we didn’t think of this years ago.”

Two nights ago, Pearl and Trixie had been home alone, when they had both realised over their fifth beer that online shopping was the answear to all of their christmas prayers.

“Did you remember my doughnuts and triple venti?”

“For the last time, I’m not your assistant dude.”

“You know I don’t have one.” Trixie sat down on the floor, Ivan happily playing with Trixie’s keys, the heavy metal more interesting to him than any of the ergonomically correct properly designed baby toys his mom had bought for him. “I’m the cool boss, I don’t need an assistant to fetch me coffee.”

“You keep telling yourself that dude.” Pearl smiled and sat down on the floor as well. “So, do you want to be on wrapping duty or not? Because I’d just like to remind you that I-”

“Not that box!” Trixie practically jumped up, the man snatching the box Pearl was holding from her hands, the brown cardboard not betraying anything.

“What the fuck?”

“Just, not this one okay, I’ll do the unpacking and the wrappi-”

“Nu uh!” Pearl sat up on her knees, reaching for the box, but Trixie was fast and fell on his back, keeping it out of Pearl’s grasp. “Come on! Let me see, who is it for anyone!”

“None of your business!” Trixie tried to worm away, but Pearl grabbed his pants, the woman jumping him, the two adults fighting each other on the floor, Pearl shrieking with laughter as they fought.

“Pearl! Come on- It’s private!”

“You’re my best friend! Nothing is private!” Pearl finally won, Trixie’s months of maternity leave not helping his fitness at all, Pearl yelled triumphantly as she tore the box from Trixie’s hands, and then, the unthinkable happened, the packaging broke, and a huge, purple silicone dildo floated through the air followed by a sea of packing peanuts, it flew across the room, the thing like a missile, straight for baby Ivan’s face, the dildo hitting him, and both Trixie and Pearl froze as Ivan started crying, his cheek bright red after the smack from his mother’s christmas dildo. Pearl looked down at Trixie, horror painted on her face.

“I’ll pay for his therapy. I promise.”

***

Fame heard the door to her office click, her brows wrinkling in annoyance. She was on the phone, overlooking the streets of Manhattan through her window as she talked, so she held up a to indicate she was busy.

“Yes, yes. No, yes. Yes we can discuss it next week. Goodbye.” Fame hang up and turned around in her chair ready to tear into whoever had wandered into her office unannounced “Roxy, I have told you several tim- Patrick?” Fame looked at her husband, the man standing in the doorway, a smile playing on his lips.

“Hello my love.”

“What are you doing here?” Even though they worked in the same building, Fame and Patrick rarely saw each other on workdays, both of them busy running their respective companies.

“Can’t a man come see his wife?”

Fame felt herself flush, her pale scandinavian skin betraying her as she could see the smile bloom on Patrick’s lips. Sometimes it felt like they were newlywed once again, any mentions of their marriage making warm delight curl in Fame’s belly, a childish feeling that only belonged to teenage girls and blushing maids, but Fame couldn’t deny that it was nice.

“And why has my husband come to see his wife?”

“Maybe he was hoping she had a little bit of extra time, and maybe, your husband saw his wife leave the house this morning, and remembered how luck he was.” Fame saw reach behind himself, a single flick of his wrist clicking the lock on her door, and when Fame looked up, there was a predatory smile on Patrick’s lips, once she hadn’t see in months, and it was directed directly at her. Fame lifted her foot and pushed against her desk, her chair rolling up against the window, leaving her vulnerable, but she had never felt more secure.

“I’m yours.”

***

“This is boring!” Raven sighed.

“We’re almost done.” Violet smiled and laid a gentle hand on Raven’s arm. They were in Raven and Raja’s kitchen, the livingroom filled with noise as a carpenter had come to redo the entire floor. Violet didn’t personally think it was necessary, but who was she to judge what Raven wanted to spend her fiancée’s money on. “We only need to find a seat for Fame’s mother in law.” Violet looked down at the gigantic seating chart in front of them, small pins in gold, silver and white representing if the name attached was Raja or Raven’s or common guests for the pair, along with red for industry people they had to invite, even if Raven complained loudly about it.

“What about here? I’m sure she’ll do fine with Nina Garcia.”

“No way.” Raven grabbed the white pin, only just saving it from a table almost entirely made out of red. “She’s not going anywhere near that cunt.” Raven pressed Patrick’s mom down, safely securing her at a table of bankers. “There. She’ll be happy with all the attention, and I won’t have to speak to either of them all night. No one is going to ruin my special day.”

Violet couldn’t help but smile, Raven as always looking out for herself first. “Of course.”