#Katherine Toy

[catzgam3rz]

Finally catching up on Empires S2! Have some very early concept sketches for a couple members :D!

[goldkirk]

being the youngest person on my team by like 10 years sometimes is REALLY obvious because everyone is talking about home construction and high school kid sports and stuff and my weekly update is “I got a Razor scooter and some new glitter paint”

[royalarmyofoz]

michael collect your girl

[comicchannel]

Invincible Series (Amazon Original) Dupli Kate Diamond Select Toys - 005

Link para compra BR: https://amzn.to/46U0cam

Buy here: https://amzn.to/3QHcH3x

[sunlightfeeling]

Oh my god Ms. Moennig…

Yes… I do

[jimmy-is-a]

Jimmy is related to Katherine.. I saw a post on how the Empires character last name are implied to be their Channels/Mc Username in some shape or form so I propose.. Jimmy and Katherine are siblings or cousins as there names would be “Elizabeth Gaming” and “Solidarity Gaming”

Aw I love this! They’re cousins forever now in my mind, I don’t care

[enyoalkis]

I recently got re-hyperfixated in the Tudor Era England history, and Slowpoke also gained interest! She’s reading a biography on Catherine Howard, the 5th wife of King Henry VIII and the 2nd wife who was executed at ~19 for treason and alleged adultery (that likely she may not have actually did). So far, this book is really great and well-written!

As a history lover, when I was younger I was ambivalent to her. Now as an adult reexamining her story, I realize Catherine was abused as a child. At 16, she also was coerced to marry Henry (age 49 and very poor in health), and back then, you really could not refuse the king. It didn’t help her own relatives used her as a pawn for their own political gain. If 19 when she was executed, she never entered adulthood. I’m 25 and I’ve lived longer than she did. 😔

I had heard from Reddit this book is a good reexamination on her story because popular history and most historical fiction for a long time viewed her as a “silly stupid slut” when evidence we know on her life leans more to that she was a victim/survivor of abusive relationships, grooming, and sexual abuse, which thankfully some historians and history lovers are recently now understanding.

[edsonjnovaes]

CAVERNA DO DRAGÃO - Noite Sem Amanhã - 1º episódio

CAVERNA DO DRAGÃO – Noite Sem Amanhã – 1º episódio. CMS TATTOO – 25 fev 2024 O Mestre dos Magos envia Hank, Sheila, Eric, Diana, Presto e Bobby para a cidade chamada Helix, a fim de participarem de uma celebração local. Contudo, em sua jornada para a cidade eles são recepcionados pelo Mago Merlin que se oferece para tomar Presto como seu aprendiz, mas apenas se Presto ficar com ele pelo resto da…

[malka-lisitsa]

♫

𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙳  “ ♫ ”  𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 𝟹 - 𝟻 𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙶𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙸 𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙾𝙲𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙴𝚂 ,

Castle by Halsey

Holy by Pvris ( a shared view on the Mikaelsons I feel)

The hand that feeds by NIN

Seven nation army by the white stripes (glitch mob remix)

They share a love of toppling empires of Mikaelsons people who don't deserve them even if Katherine doesn't want the crown herself.

[headofrdi]

Out of the Office

So I saw a starter that gave me an idea, that especially would work due to me playing with people like @multi-royalty and @malka-lisitsa among others.

A woman who decided ‘I want Rick, and I will do anything to have him, even if it involves murder’ and him learning of it as they’re in front of him, (most likely) naked, and straddling him because they will have him even if they need to be more assertive about it(aka take him themselves)

[bangaveragewhitewine]

soft slow, morning glow

Steve Harrington x Reader

A prosaic peek at Steve Harrington’s inability to sleep in and stay in bed and his reasons for changing his ways. 

October 1997; a cosy easy morning, where kisses are shared and ABBA songs are sung as a lullaby.

Word count: 4.3K

Content/Warnings: TW for talk of bleeding during pregnancy, borderline neglectful parents. 

Mention of sex (18+), not explicit. This contains dad!Steve & mom! reader toward the end; pregnant reader. Kinda rambling. Very soft. Low angst (but not none).

Note: Thank you to my ST rewatch for making me fall for Steve all over again. 

Proofread by @specialagentmonkey | Divider by @silkholland

Steve Harrington was always an early riser. 

As a honey-haired little boy, he spent Saturday mornings on the sofa watching cartoons with the volume dialled low as his parents slept. He knew not to make a mess with the cereal, or the milk, rewarded with a stack of pancakes or a new toy for keeping himself amused as Richard and Katherine Harrington slept off the previous evening’s dinner party hangover. 

Always the first awake at sleepovers, he would wait with bated breath for Tommy to stir or feign a sneeze to wake him. 

He never had to be dragged from bed to go to school during the week, always up and at ‘em to go see his friends, play tag and swap baseball cards on the playground. 

As a sporty and popular teenager, he started running when he didn’t have early swim practice or basketball. Steve rose with the sun and waved to his neighbours politely as his shiny sneakers slapped the pavements of Loch Nora. 

He was never sure what he was running from, or towards, but the burn of chilly morning air in his lungs made him feel alive. 

When he started going to house parties and hangouts on Saturday nights, his Sundays still started early, dragged to show face at his parent’s church. It was less about faith and god and all about appearances. He snuck out of bedroom windows, hopped white picket fences as the sun rose, fought hangovers as the priest’s voice droned and caught the eyes of pretty girls from the convent school a town over - they always blushed when he smiled at them or dropped them a sly little wink as the collection plate was passed around. 

When his parents started travelling more, after the shortlived re-commitment to the church, Steve’s Sunday morning hangovers were kept at bay with cold swims in the pool or hot coffee and loud music in the kitchen as he tried and failed to focus on homework.  

Steve started working right out of school as punishment for unsubmitted college applications and lower-than-predicted grades. He volunteered for the opening shifts in Scoops Ahoy and Family Video - he liked the responsibility and having a purpose, having an excuse to be out of the house before his parents could tutt and fuss and lecture him. It was easier when they weren’t there; when the office in Indy needed Richard’s attention more than his wife and son did, when Katherine spotted smears of lipstick on his collars again and insisted she spend some time with him in the city apartment. 

In their absence, the Harrington house was a mausoleum of failure that Steve couldn’t bear to be in. So he raised his hand for early delivery shifts and stock takes and drove his friends to school when he didn’t have to, already awake after another night of nightmares, memories of flying fists. 

Steve Harrington rose early and burned bright; burned out quickly when he realised he didn’t know what to do with himself or what his purpose was. 

He filled his time with making himself useful to other people, chasing and seeking a purpose or a person to fill the gaps and spaces in his chest; the hollows once reserved for the people who didn’t return the outpouring of love he offered so freely, so innocently. He found and made a rag-bag bunch of friends, a found family, who returned the love he deserved in the ways they knew how. Woven and knotted friendship bracelets, squished candy bars, mixtapes, weed sold and rolled at buddy rates or for nothing at all.

Steve Harrington moved to the city with his best friends; a Beemer and a battered van filled with boxes and suitcases. The early morning drive made Steve Harrington glow golden in the rising sun, his excited eyes hidden behind dark-tinted sunglasses as Robin Buckley snored in the passenger seat and Eddie Munson listened to metal at an ear-bleeding volume in his van and flipped Steve off with that big grin in the rearview mirror. They stopped for strong coffee and sweet pancakes and started a new chapter in the city. 

When you fell in love with Steve in 1990, he found a reason to stay in bed a little longer. A reason to slow down, soak up the sunshine glow you shone on him. 

You spent Saturday nights with friends, a patchwork group cheering on Corroded Coffin and selling T-shirts and tapes at a merch table when they scored a bigger venue and a bigger crowd. Movie nights and takeout Chinese food and a stack of new and old movies from Blockbuster. Date nights at swanky bars and restaurants, with flickering candles and pizza on the way home because you didn’t want the night to end yet. You spent hours in bed together, night and morning, talking about everything under the rising sun and dwindling moon, learning about each other’s life and mapping each other’s body with kisses and gentle touches. 

In the morning he gazed at your sleepy softness and took his own pulse to make sure he wasn’t dying. No heart attack, just falling in love.

He brought you cups of coffee and sweet pastries from the bakery a block away when his limbs felt restless. He always got back into bed with you to cuddle and while away the morning without a moment wasted. With Steve, those mornings were syrupy slow; he worshipped you between your thighs and held your hands as the headboard bashed against the wall.

You became Mrs. Steve Harrington in the spring of ‘94. 

A small wedding. A big party for your friends. A honeymoon week where every morning felt like a perfect lazy Saturday.

When Steve found his reason to stay in bed, together you created a reason that kept you from it. 

Bethany Rose Harrington. Born June 21st 1995. 

Beth had her Daddy’s eyes and her Mama’s nose, and the sweetest little dimples in her smiley pink cheeks. She was her Daddy’s little doughnut, her Mama’s little bee. She inherited Steve’s charm and wrapped her extensive collection of doting uncles and aunts right around her tiny finger. She took after you in the way that Steve was completely and utterly in love with her. 

Just like her Dad, Beth liked to start the day early. After a few weeks of seeking out and settling into a routine, Steve spent the earliest part of the day feeding his little Bethie her bottle of milk in the cosy armchair nestled in the corner of her pale yellow nursery. As he watched her big brown eyes gaze and blink, felt her tiny fist wrap around his finger, Steve decided that these were the happiest mornings of his life. 

On those soft and slow mornings, you could hear Steve’s low murmur to your little girl through the baby monitor when his excitement to see her gummy smile or stop her sad fat tears bypassed the off-switch. You fell back asleep to the sound of Steve telling Beth about how the Cubs and the Bulls (their teams now) were doing this season, or about the walk in the park you were going to go on once ‘beautiful mama’ was awake. He sang to her; never typical lullabies, Queen and ABBA and Dusty Springfield. 

Steve basked in the joy of her little smiles, soaked in the soft cooing noises as Beth found her voice to talk back to her Daddy. When she fell asleep again, milk-drunk with her cheek against his heartbeat, Steve watched the morning sky shift and brighten and listened out for the sound of your waking time. The soft thud and shuffle from bed to bathroom, running water, your yawn and stretch, the gentle steps to seek and find him and your little treasure. You filled reams of camera film, documenting Steve as a Dad, your little girl's first weeks and months. Lit by morning light, by afternoon sun and the shade of the tree in your yard, and dusky nighttime lit by nightlights.

When your laundry list of chores allowed it, you took one of your three options on those mornings of parenthood - take turns to bask in the warmth of lavender and milk-scented baby cuddles while the other showered; bring the sleeping beauty back to your bed to gaze at the ten fingers and ten toes you had created together; or leave the sleepy and full-tummied grub to sleep in her crib again to spend the slow dawn hours holding each other and trading kisses, and knotting yourselves up in the sheets together once the doctor gave you the all-clear and a prescription for birth control. 

You did plenty of all three. 

Summer turned to Autumn, then Winter, and Steve balanced being a father and husband with keeping a roof over your heads and the final year of his programme to get his qualification to become a guidance counsellor. His mornings with Beth were part of his routine, leaving her smiling and drooly for you when he kissed his girls goodbye. Missing him during full days of supervised sessions and hours in the college library when he wasn’t in classes bonded you and Beth, thick as thieves and lovestruck for the golden Harrington boy-turned-man. You made sure that he never missed a moment with how many pictures you took, and Beth saved all of her firsts for when he was home. You coached her to say ‘dada’ in Steve’s absence and he sobbed happy tears when she parroted it back. (He had been coaching her to say ‘mama’ during their early mornings together).

Your late nights of talking turned to early-to-bed nights, sleeping when the baby slept and when your little home was some semblance of clean and tidy. Steve fell asleep to the sound of Bethie’s breath on the monitor, your heart under his cheek and the soft stroke of your fingers in his hair, along the length of his arm. 

Both of you were exhausted. Neither of you had ever been happier. 

When he graduated in the Summer, you and Beth cheered and clapped for your golden boy along with his best friends - the loudest bunch in the college auditorium. A picture of the Harrington trio - Steve in his shirt and tie and graduation gown balancing a smiley baby and his degree as you kiss his cheek and tickle Beth’s tummy for the camera - was placed with pride on his desk when he started a counsellor job that landed in his lap in the late summer of ‘96. He coached basketball two afternoons a week on the side; it was perfect for him.

You go back to work part-time and you balance taking care of Beth and each other with the utmost care. With help from your family and Steve’s trust fund from the Harrington’s, you make it work. You are what he holds dear, pride of place in the centre of his chest, once vacant and hollow. The gaping space he yearned to fill with the wrong friends, the wrong girls, watery beer and too many cigarettes. 

By the Fall of ‘97, Steve had learned to sleep again. Sleep when the baby sleeps. Enjoy your days off. Enjoy every moment. He is. He’s so tired but never happier. 

This morning, you wake first. 

Your little house in the Chicago suburbs is bathed in autumn darkness on a lazy Saturday.  Six a.m. and Steve snores peacefully. 

Beth is silent, dreaming of her two favourite things: fairies and pancakes. That top five list favourites is rounded out by her Daddy and Mama and Mrs. Murphy’s orange cat that visits the backyard. 

The littlest Harrington is an early bird too, twirling in your tummy beneath Steve’s protective hand. Until Steve can take the morning shift, you are the early riser.

Beth is your sleepy little dreamer, she loves her bed like her Mama. She sneaks in between you and Steve (and the bump now too) when she wakes too early; you spend those mornings gazing and counting fingers and toes again like when she was a tiny thing. 

This baby however seems to take after her father’s love of sport, the way she practices the aim and strength of her kicks on your bladder. You don’t officially know yet (they were less than cooperative at the last ultrasound), but you know it’s a girl. Steve swayed to boy for a day or two before realising you were right. Maybe next time… 

The flush and sigh-groan from your aching back pulls Steve from sleep. When you pad back in from the little bathroom, he’s just about upright and wild-haired. 

“Y’okay?” Eyes swollen with sleep, he reaches blindly for you to help you back into the cosy nest of blankets. 

“Mm, needed to pee.” 

You try to keep your cold feet away but Steve sandwiches them between his own size fourteen and always warm feet. His lips brush your shoulder and the back of your neck when you settle into a comfortable position; Bump dictates what will suffice as ‘comfortable’ and settles under her father’s comforting hand. Harrington’s magic touch is famed in your home; settling gassy babies and working out knotted shoulders, fixing leaky faucets and carrying all of the groceries inside in two heavy handfuls, making shadow-puppet shows on the bedroom wall and holding back your hair when you’re not well. 

Slowly, small-spooned by Steve’s bigger body, you drift again. Sleep comes and goes like an inconsistent tide, and you are anchored safely in his arms. Baby names ebb and flow into your tired head and you wish Steve was awake to tell you what he thought of ‘Heather’ or ‘Ava’. Whether your (very slow) re-read of Little Women was influencing you too much to ‘Josie’. You wonder about how much candy you should get for the trick-or-treaters, and whether Beth will be too scared to help you answer the door to them this year. 

You wish he was awake - because you always wish your every waking moment was spent with Steve Harrington - but you’re so glad he is sleeping soundly, snoring sweetly behind you. You wish you could take more responsibility, take the pressure he puts on his own shoulders from him, but this pregnancy is less easy than the first and you hate that you can’t do it all anymore. You take solace in the fact that Steve is asleep, not awake worrying or nesting. 

Turning in his sleepy hold, you place his hand back on the bump to keep the littlest Harrington settled and content, and watch your handsome husband look like the teenager you wish you had known. You map the laughter lines instead of the ones etched by worry, counting the happy memories (which are insurmountable) as you fall back to sleep with him at last. 

Sleeping Beauty herself slumbers on until almost 8 a.m., meaning that both you and Steve sleep until almost 8 a.m. too - later on you will toast coffee (decaf for you) over that parent win. For the next few months, the weekends mean Steve will be hitting snooze on his body clock when the chances arise. 

This morning Beth’s little voice sings his name down the hall. Steve wakes with a smile and kisses your sleepy face as you stretch and peel your eyes open. 

“You’re up, Coach.” Your voice is a tired yawn, mumbled into the fluffy duvet Steve untangles himself from.

“Bring her in for cuddles please.” You pout for a tired kiss and hum happily when he grants your wish. 

Steve’s ankles crack as he walks from your room to Beth’s. She’s wide awake and wild-haired, matching her Dad, and she sits up in her bed with her bunny-teddy clutched in her fist. 

“Hi bumblebee,” he gasps, his tiredness swept away by his genuine joy to see her. Steve lays down on her too-small-for-him baby bed and pretends to get comfy to sleep again. “Sleepover?” he asks, opening his arm for her. 

“Nooooo, yo’bed!” Her sweet voice crackles with sleepiness and the remnants of a cold she picked up as the seasons changed. 

In the warmth of your bed, you can hear the mini-eye-roll she’s giving her Dad as he plays up to her dramatics. Uncle Dustin has a lot to answer for. 

“Bethie,” you call from your nest, “I miss you.” 

Steve watches with barely restrained amusement as her face beams bright like sunshine before leaving him in the lurch to seek out Mama. “Hey! What about me?!” 

You can hear his grumbling as he hauls himself up from the tiny toddler bed but your focus is the bundle of sunshine that bounds her way to your room in her sky-blue jammies. Pushing messy hair from her face, she squeaks happily as you lift her before Steve can beat you to it. You didn’t want another moment apart from your girl and she burrows against your chest under the toasty-warm duvet. 

“Morning Betty Boop.” You press kisses to her smiling face and hear Steve stomp and flop back into the room and into the bed. 

“Is Daddy not invited to this love-in? Just for Mama and Beth?” he asks, scowling at your smushed-together faces. 

You cuddle Beth and stroke her back as the girl shifts her impish gaze to Steve. “What do you think, Betty? Kisses for Dada?”

She can never ever resist him and reach-grabs out to be gathered in his big strong arms for kisses and cuddles. 

Steve lights up, features relaxing from his feigned annoyance, as he gives and receives morning kisses. You are gathered up alongside the titch of a girl and with her help, you smother kisses all over Steve’s happy face. 

“Never ever not invited to the love-in, my love.” You kiss his shadowed jaw once and tuck yourself under his arm. 

“Kiss d’baby?” Beth’s messy head pops up and looks at you hopefully. 

“You wanna say good morning to Baby?” Steve asks, and she nods. “Mama?”

“I think she’s asleep, but I bet she’ll wake up when she hears Big Sis and Dada.” Beneath the pitched tent of the duvet, you lift Steve’s t-shirt and present the rounded bump for inclusion in the morning love-in.

Beth has been immensely eager to meet her baby since she took notice of your bump and realised the new baby was actually in there.

The little girl’s pillow-soft cheek rests against the curve as she hugs around your middle. “Moh’nin, baby.” Her little voice is still a little stuffed up, nasal. 

Your heart and tears swell as you watch her with Steve, who kisses the bump and murmurs hello. You’re at that point of pregnancy where you could cry when the wind changes and you cover your eyes so Beth won’t go out in sympathy-tears with you. 

Steve’s big hand squeezes your hand as he distracts Beth, who babbles in toddler talk to her sibling. His eyes are wide and worried as he looks up and sees the hitch of your chest. He’s had that worried look since you bled at ten weeks and the doctor put you on bed rest, just three weeks into actually knowing you were pregnant. Everything has settled bar your hormones and emotions; two perfect heartbeats, an active healthy baby, a happy but tired Mom. Steve is more scared now than he was with Beth but pretends to be brave for you.

You swipe at your hot tears, dry your hand in your t-shirt before reaching down to stroke through Steve’s thick hair. 

“M’okay.” You give him a watery smile. “She’s just… so sweet, Stevie.” 

Moving up to lie along your side, Steve wipes your cheek and presses a kiss to the trail of the tears left behind. “Sweetest. Sweet Bee. Feelin’ okay?” 

His hand stays on top of your bump and then passes over Bethany’s bedhead when she looks up curiously. 

Seeing that she is missing out, Beth decides she has had enough and wants to cuddle with you instead of the baby who won’t kick back hello. She wiggles up to lie on Steve’s chest, little fingers poking into the freckles and moles as he pulls the duvet back around you all like a cosy cocoon. 

“Feeling good. You okay?”

Steve has tucked away his worry again, but you still see the pinch in his brow - though the curious little fingers might be the reason for that. 

“Peachy.” He chases the poking fingers with a growling kiss, pulling a shrieking giggle from Beth. “Hello, can I help you? Why are we poking Daddy this morning, huh?” 

You giggle with Beth and kiss where her fingers had pressed, modelling the gentle sweetness you know she possesses in multitudes. “Poor Daddy. See, Betty? Gentle kissies.” A kiss is snuck onto his mouth for good measure. 

“Daddy,” Beth sing-songs, patting his cheek lovingly. 

“Bethie,” Steve sings back to her, echoing her melody. He accepts a wet baby-kiss as you curl close to them both.

You twirl a finger in the messy wave of her hair. “What will we do today? Do you want to get some library books? Or we could… go to the park?” 

Steve pats her back gently. “Oh wow. All the possibilities, huh?” His lips press to Beth’s forehead as she cuddles up to him, her fingers distracted by the gold chain he wears around his neck. “Gentle, please.” He kisses her head again and looks at you. “We can do both… Go get a t-r-e-a-t?” 

You smile and nod, covering Steve’s hand on Beth’s small back. “I like t-r-e-a-ts. What do you want to do, big guy?” 

Steve’s fingers slot with yours. His lips brush your head as you share his pillow - the firm one to help with his neck pain. “Just be with you two. Could stay right here all day and I’d be the happiest guy.” 

You press your nose against his cheek and close your eyes; you’re both surrounded by your favourite people, it is utter bliss. 

“I love you.” Your voice is soft and tired against his stubbly jaw. 

“Love you. So much, babe.” 

Steve tilts his head so you can share a morning-breath-be-damned kiss. He wishes he had woke up sooner, before the wide-eyed toddler, so that he could have showered you with kisses, made out like teenagers (despite the baby bump between you). 

“No! Me!” The frustrated little whine makes you smile apologetically to each other, chancing one more peck before you both look to scowling Beth. 

“Sorry, Bee. Mama’s too delicious for me to resist.”

“Steve!” you tuck your face in his neck as you laugh, an affectionate headbutt. 

“What? The kid’s gotta know.”

The two-year-old smushes her face to her Dad’s chest, still too little to comprehend her Dad’s silly banter when she just wants to be the centre of both of your attention. You have a few months left to figure that out before the baby arrives, but it scares you that she might feel like she’s not the best thing that ever happened you (bar her Dad, of course). 

Your pout matches hers and you push back the stinging Mom Guilt Tears. She is only coaxed away with sweet little cheek-kisses from you as you hum-sing Take a Chance on Me (accompanied by Steve’s tapping fingers on her back ‘take a chance, take a chance, take a, take a chance-chance.)

The girl's smile splits her frustrated face, a quiet giggle as she is serenaded by her current favourite song (you have just got I Was Made For Lovin’ You out of your head after Steve had introduced her to KISS in the car). Her little arm hooks around your head as you whisper how much you love her, soft voice tickling her ear and cheek. 

Beth’s laughter coaxes a fluttering kick against your belly, which Steve feels against his side as you spoon against him. He wears the same wide-eyed joy on his face every time he has felt your babies kick. 

“Oo, she’s awake again. Finally joining the party.” You rest your hand against the side of your rounded belly and telepathically tell the tiny one how much you love them too, how you can’t wait to meet them but please stay in there until they’re fully cooked and ready. 

Steve’s free hand - the one not keeping Beth upright as she sits up on his torso - joins yours and echoes your telepathic communication to the littlest Harrington - I love you, I can’t wait to hold you, please stay safe in there and be nice to your Mom. 

His wide palm on your bump settles the fluttering before she aims her kick right against it Hi Dad! Okay, Dad!

You share a secret little smile with him and kiss his cheek as his eyes shimmer before rolling onto your achy back, feeling the satisfaction of the pop and crack as your spine relaxes against the mattress. Steve’s hand stays on your belly, and you hug his arm to your chest, as Beth sings her toddler-babble version of an ABBA mashup for you both from her throne. 

Steve’s face hurts from smiling as he listens to her, hears some semblance of the lyrics in Beth-speak. He doesn’t remember mornings like this with his parents, few and far between were the times he was even allowed to cuddle with them in bed on a weekend morning.

You glance at his face, watching shifting emotions come and go as he remembers, tries to forget and focuses on the memories being made right now in your cosy nest of a bed. You squeeze his arm and hold his hand on your belly - matching gold wedding rings clicking against each other as your fingers intertwine. 

Steve squeezes your hand, three pulses. There is simply nowhere he would rather be. 

[aurelion-solar]

Toy Terror Cho'Gath Splash Art & Concepts - Katherine Fortune

[nho-jungle]

“fidget toys are an important part of a modern office environment” pixlriffs says, having been holding a regular conversation while oli and katherine run around in circles clicking noteblocks and trying to imitate the noises

[strawberryforks]

sticky note // alex walter x reader

summary: alex is in love with jackie, you leave him a sticky note explaining how you’re feeling.

warnings: underage drinking, sadness

word count: 481

a/n: requests/asks are open & encouraged! my first ever post (scroll down) is a list of characters i will write for!

“she didn’t say it back… y/n why didn’t she say it back?”

“all good questions for tomorrow, alex.”

the back of his knees hit the bed and he fell. luckily you’d moved the blankets so you were able to pull them over him and tuck him in. a few moments later you come back into the room with water and advil. alex is asleep so you set everything on his nightstand and fill out a sticky note, ignoring the stinging in your eyes and pinning it to the glass.

katherine is downstairs, taking a step away from the wedding. she waves you over and you walk with a small smile that you have to fake. does she know her son’s drunk and pining for the girl they took in? her best friend’s daughter? probably not, but anything’s possible. maybe she knows he’ll have a hangover tomorrow, maybe she knows he beoke your heart. maybe—but you aren’t about to tell her. “everything’s so beautiful,” you gushed. flattery could bury anything. sadness, anxiety, guilt, lies. all things you were riddled with.

katherine nodded. she was beaming, a perfect smile aimed at you as she sung the praises of the newest addition to the walter household. “that was all jackie,” she credited. “she’s worked so hard.”

she had but still, your smile became more forced. jackie was sweet and really good at things (better than you were, unless we were talking about how many words you could write/read per minute or how many kills you could get on just about any fps game) but even though her smile was nice and she’d been through a lot, you couldn’t make yourself be anything but civil.

you couldn’t be her friend. not when you felt like she was toying with alex’s feelings. not when cole was involved and the paige situation was still so raw alex would talk to you about it and hadn’t forgiven his brother. “i don’t doubt it,” you said. “it was a beautiful ceremony. now,” you hug katherine. “i’ve got to head home before it gets too dark.”

“do you have a drive?”

“no, but it’s okay. i like to walk.” you assured her.

“alone? y/n it’s late. i’m not sure i like that… stay the night, please.”

you weren’t good at saying no. especially not to sweet parental figures who only want what’s best for you and that make the best food. “you can sleep on the couch… or… in alex’s room as long as there’s no funny business.” you laughed and raised a brow, ‘really?’ was your silent question and katherine just shook her head. “don’t tell george.” she amended. “i won’t.” you swore.

katherine piled blankets and pillows from the linen closet into your arms and patted your shoulder as you passed, heading back to Alex’s room. you made a pallet on the floor and fell asleep, completely forgetting about the sticky note you’d left him.

the one that said: “hey alex, hope the hangover isn’t too horrendous. i didn’t mind taking care of you last night because that’s what friends are for, but you said some things that upset me and i’m just going to need a little time.”

[e-dubbc11]

For a summer activity, how about Billy and you in battle of the water guns. It would give Billy a chance to do things he never got to do as a kid. 🩶🩷

My dear sweet Katherine,

Thank you so much for participating in my summer sleepover, for reading my fics and for being such a good friend to me. I love you to pieces and I hope you like what I did. I wasn’t exactly sure if you just wanted a moodboard or a fic so I just did both for you. I hope you like it! 💜

Splish Splash

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Couple of swear words, fluffy bunnies and unicorns, smooches

Word Count: 1.1K-ish

Summary: You surprise Billy at work and help each other cool off with something fun.

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The walk through the park to get to his office wasn’t necessary but you couldn’t resist on a day like today. The fluffy white clouds were latched to a sky that seemed unending and behind those cotton-like clouds, the early afternoon sky was the brightest of blues.

You could feel the sweat gathering at your hairline and at the back of your neck and beads of perspiration slowly trickled down your chest and disappeared behind the V in your crisp white t-shirt.

You wanted to surprise your boyfriend Billy with something fun.

Briefly, you glanced down into your purse to make sure you had packed them. You couldn’t help yourself when you saw those cheap little plastic water pistols in the window of the toy shop on your way home from work last night. This will be a fun surprise for Billy.

You pictured his childlike smile, the smile that would don his face every time he was able to do something he never got to do as a kid. His childhood and innocence taken from him so abruptly, forcing him to grow up when he wasn’t ready to and to constantly look over his shoulder is something no child should ever have to go through.

And there was nothing you wouldn’t do to help him cope with that.

With each long stride along the sidewalk path was a step closer to getting to see that perfect Billy Russo smile which made your heart soar and flutter with excitement.

Fresh cut blades of grass looked soft as silk and the myriad of scents from the summer flowers floated through the air above their petals which were as soft as satin. The sweet aroma of the summer air was the work of the honeybees that were dancing from flower to flower and they continued to hum at a very low frequency, almost hypnotizing you as you walked.

On their break, construction workers wiped the sweat from their brow as they hid under the trees to escape the heat. Park benches lined with well-dressed people, eating their lunches and letting the sun kiss the high points of their faces before they had to go back to work.

You were getting close to Anvil so you texted Frank. You had given him a heads up about what you planned on doing when Billy was finished with his meeting with Homeland Security.

Please tell me he’s not back yet.

You texted.

Frank’s reply came quickly.

Not yet, kid. You got time and one of those water guns better be for me.

He said with a laughing emoji next to it.

Of course I have one for you too! Be there soon!

Outside Billy’s office was a small table for papers and forms that needed his signature but today there was only one piece of paper that read…

“Choose your weapon, soldier. XO”

And you left three water guns on top of the paper, already filled and ready to go.

You waited patiently under his desk for him to walk through the door. His voice carried into his office, complaining to others about the heat, and to not disturb him until after lunch.

Grabbing the door handle, you heard him pause as he read the piece of paper on the table and if you knew Billy at all, you knew he would take two of the three water guns, leaving one behind for Frank’s taking.

The office door opened slowly but only a little bit, you knew he was sweeping the room for you. Then you heard his firm silvery voice.

“You in here, sweet girl? Come out, come out, wherever you are, my love. I know you’re here somewhere.” He said.

You could tell he was smiling.

Carefully and slowly, you pushed the chair away from the desk and peeked above the large wooden desk plane. You took a blind shot in his direction and hit him in the hand with a stream of water.

Not wanting him to get too close so you would be trapped under the desk, you popped out from under the desk and started shooting but so did he. Every shot he took, he hit you somewhere.

The ice cold water actually felt refreshing as it splashed against your warm skin. Billy’s dress shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his arms were outstretched as he continued to shoot in your direction.

Suddenly, Billy felt cold water hit him in the back.

“Ah, SHIT!” He exclaimed.

Frank had a wide grin stretched across his mouth as he yelled out, “You shoulda been watchin’ your six, Bill!”

And he let out a laugh.

Billy had two guns so he could shoot at you and Frank at the same time.

“Billy Russo, I knew you would take two of them!” You said with a laugh.

And there it was, that childlike smile you had waited all morning to see, it finally happened. Water from your pistol hit him in the face and water from Frank’s left water marks on his dress shirt.

“Well, I’m outta ammo and I gotta get back to work. You two kids have fun.” Said Frank, shutting the door behind him.

With your arms outstretched, you aimed your water gun at Billy.

“Hands up, lieutenant.” You said with a sly smile.

Raising his hands, Billy let the water guns dangle from his forefingers by the triggers.

“Two against one is hardly fair, baby.” He said with a devilish grin.

You started to walk toward him.

“But you had two guns, handsome.” You stated.

Still smiling, he hung his head in defeat.

“You’re not wrong, beautiful. How ‘bout you come claim your prize.” Said Billy, playfully.

You both dropped your water guns on the floor as he cupped your cheeks and claimed your lips like it had been weeks since he had seen you last.

The bristles of his beard gently scraped against your soft cheeks as his tongue parted your lips, gaining access to your mouth so it could entangle with yours. Smiling against your mouth, his kisses were hungry as they moved up and down the sides of your neck.

“Y/n, my love, you always seem to know exactly what I need at the right time, don’t you.” He said. “Thank you, sweet girl.”

Billy never talked a lot about his childhood. He hated it, made him angry, but out of everyone, he chose to talk about it with you.

“You’re welcome, Billy.” You replied, along with a gentle kiss on his cheek.

The bad memories had been replaced with good ones, like today, and they’re memories he’ll never forget. You strived to give Billy the experiences he missed out on when he was young. In your eyes, he’ll always be good enough and he never failed to thank you every single day for telling him that.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @idaoftheburningmind @rafaelakelley @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @aoi-targaryen

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @ittybxttykxttytxtty @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @mrsbillyrusso

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[lesbian-odo]

Data Slander

Characters and episodes in order under the cut

Data, S4E3 Brothers Katherine Pulaski, S2E1 The Child Admiral Haftel, S3E16 The Offspring Phillipa Louvois, S2E9 The Measure of a Man Bruce Maddox, S2E9 The Measure of a Man Christopher Hobson, S5E1 Redemption Part 2 Lore, S4E3 Brothers Gosheven, S3E2 The Ensigns of Command Kivas Fajo, S3E22 The Most Toys Data: S4E3 Brothers S7E17 Masks S6E26 Descent Part 1 S6E8 A Fistful of Datas S5E26 Time's Arrow Part 1 S3E13 Deja Q The Enterprise exploding: S5E18 Cause and Effect