#so it won't get in the way of his work... and skull rings generally take more space and are more likely to get stuck on stuff

[divinehedons]

i won't hurt you.

navigation: masterlist

word count: ~1.9k words

summary: you meet joel in the aftermath of a terrible accident. reeling from the aftermath of the event, there is a looming shadow that complicates your relationship with the southern man you just somehow happened to meet 

warnings: explicit (but not graphic) content–MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! relatively dark(?)-ish joel miller, allusions to smut (not heavily detailed), graphic depictions of injury, some scenes include hospitalization (not in graphic detail), dubious consent, joel miller radiates mansplain / manipulate / malewife energy, men are trash in general wbk

note: oh. my. god. it has been far too long and i’m so so very sorry for just now coming back! i’ve hit a terrible writer’s block alongside very bad mental health and i’m just now recovering :’D thank you so so so much for 800 followers, it’s going to take a while for me to respond to everyone but i’ll be going through them! i love you very very dearly, mwah!

note 2.0: pls pls lower your expectations, 🫣 i am trying to get back into the groove of things!

You remember the screech of tires on frozen asphalt. A flash of headlights. Spinning, spinning, spinning. Your body ignited in pain. Then… darkness.

Darkness that seemed to spread before you for an eternity. Untethered and stuck in limbo, perhaps in another universe, you would call it the most peaceful slumber of your life. The misfortune comes when you wake. Lightning strikes shake you awake from the darkness of your subconsciousness. Electricity trembling in your chest as it shoots through your beaten frame. A light peers through your closed eyes. Brighter, and brighter… bigger and bigger. A ringing in your ears that almost deafens you.

The world shifts around you, and you wake paralyzed, staring at the ceiling in the warm sun that falls on your body lying there. Everything hurts. There is a humming in your head that you cannot seem to shake out of.

The solitude lasts for a beat. Then another. That’s when you see him.

A sleepless, roughened man looking at you with his warm eyes. Through the bleary vision of your own gaze, a shaky breath escapes him. His crinkled eyes looking over your features with a swift once over.

“Oh, Christ, you’re awake.”

And that’s how you met Joel.

–

In the week that followed your complicated recovery, Joel tells you he saw the crash. Tells you the asshole who ran you over was nowhere to be seen. He says most of it with his eyes averted. Yet you hold your gaze.

You will not be weakened by the shame of your misery.

It is two days later when you confess to him; your throat still rasping as the pain in your head boils and toils beneath your skull. You look at him when he arrives, paint-stained shirt providing evidence of a messy day of working. “I don’t want to think about what happened to me anymore, Joel.”

Your tongue grabs at words the way young children do with sticky fruit in the summer. As if language has become foreign to you.

Joel, keys in hand, meets your gaze with a furrowed brow. “Sure, sugar. Whatever you need.”

Maybe your eyes were tricking you, but you could’ve sworn you saw his shoulders relax from some kind of tension leaving his body.

–

Joel doesn’t know what he had gotten himself into. What he does know is that for some reason, he couldn’t bear the idea of staying away from you. You tell him fragments of what little you remember, your concussed consciousness blindly clawing at every last bit of beaten brain matter for some kind of answer. 

You sometimes cry from the effort it takes you to think, but he’s there. The first few times, he held your hand. As the hours bled into days, he held you as you wet his shirt with warm tears. Sometimes, when the nightmares reach him in his own bed a few miles out from the hospital, it feels like you’re bleeding into him.

From the moment he saw you, he had been marked. And no matter how many times he scratched at his own skin, he could never wash away the blood on his hands.

–

He’s the one to take you home to your quiet little apartment, having grown dust in your absence. You apologize, he waves you off. He watches you as you peer out of the window, comprehending a view that had once been so mundane, transformed into some shred of a miracle for you to still be there, witnessing it all. He’s behind you, ten feet away, tilting his head as your hair catches what little sunlight blessed you the day you left the hospital.

He says your name, and you look back at him with a curious smile. “My God,” he followed. “You look just like starlight.” He steps forward, and that’s when you know everything had fallen into place. Without another moment lapsing, he takes your face into his hands, pulling you into a searing kiss.

You apologize so many times. For the hospital smell on your skin. For your trembling knees. For the dizzying sensation of human contact without the involvement of medical processes. For feeling so unclean.

Meanwhile, he apologizes, too. For kissing you. For pulling you to him. For holding you. For carrying you to the forlorn couch grown cold from the absence of human warmth. So many times that there are times that you don’t know what is there to apologize for. You shake your head each and every time.

The tears roll down your cheek just as he pulls away and his eyes immediately soften. You shake your head, pulling him into another kiss as you whine.

There are many things you want to tell him. But you don’t dare tell him this: Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you have been ruined.

“Tell me to stop, honey, and I will,” he murmurs, holding your cheek as you pause between touches. You shake your head immediately. You want many things. You are hungry and untamed. But you do not want him to stop.

You tell him as much. “Joel, don’t you dare stop.”

And he doesn’t. Not when you’re naked and he sees your bruised skin, purple and yellowed in places. He looks to you just as your body tenses. His demeanor softens, kissing along your jaw and your neck with a shaky breath.

“I won’t hurt ya, darlin’.”

He keeps to that promise. Even when your legs are around his waist and he’s caught in your warmth. He says it again and again as you whine into the cool, quiet solitude of your home.

I won’t hurt you, I won’t hurt you.

–

Falling in love with Joel was both so complicated and so simple at once. Whenever you wake beside him, you wake up writhing from the pain of your injuries; sometimes crying from the nightmares that followed every waking moment. You felt marred by shame for putting so much of your perceived burden on his shoulders. He never departs from your side, his strong arms placating you while his lips press against your temple.

It’s all so simple, the way he cares about you. And whether or not you admitted it, you like the feeling of being cared for. Of having someone that cares.

Regardless, you cannot escape the fact that someone did this to you. And whenever the pain shocks your body, everything but rabid rage escapes your body. You curse the stranger, whoever they may be, for that cursed night.

Joel sees glimpses of this. He saw it most that one afternoon when the hospital called, saying you had been taken care of. By who, they didn’t say. Only that the stranger apologized for what happened.

You were on the floor, hands trembling in the fists you held them in. The hospital bill crumpled a few inches away. You do not see him. What you see is all red.

A wail escapes your trembling mouth just as your hands claw at anything they can touch. It is an uncontrollable surge of blinding, mouth-foaming, unbridled rage. He’s there, trying to hold you down before you hurt yourself. Each wail pierces another hole into his aching heart. Each struggle followed by his gentle shushing, trying to assuage you in the crest of your emotion.

“Whoever it was,” you told him then as you sobbed. “They ruined my life.”

“Darlin, darlin’...” He breathes in, cupping your face. “Maybe he’s around and he regrets-”

“No!” You claw at him, just as he holds you tighter against his chest. “If he could find me, then he could say it to my face. He wouldn’t be some coward who left me alone like this after he ruined my life!”

It destroys him. And you can see it in his face. All he can do is hold you as you cry against his chest. All he can do is shut his eyes, letting the waves of grief crest over and over your frame. Letting your sobs tear him open and burn him out.

He tells you nothing lasts forever. That he’ll be there for as close to forever as possible. You shake your head because you know better. He says nothing lasts forever. He doesn’t know he’s just afraid your pain can last longer than he is capable of loving you.

–

Perhaps, to the end of his days, Joel will regret that drunken night. He’ll regret following his bleary gaze through the quiet, sleet-slick roads. He’ll regret the fact that he couldn’t have stopped his truck sooner.

When he steps out into the cold just as he smells the acrid scent of burning tires, he sees your bloodied face in your car. So small. So undeserving. He muttered a string of cusses. The sudden shock of adrenaline washing away the last of his drunkenness. He looks back at his truck, horrifically beaten, his gaze doubling from his last bout of drunkenness.

He bargains that night. Calls up someone high up amongst the police rank to bail him out. He negotiated for ten minutes. Then he hides the truck somewhere off the side of the road for him to come back to and dispose of. And then, only then, did he call for help.

Only then did he reach you in the driver’s seat, blood now caked to your skin as he lay you out amongst the concrete.

You make some sound, and he cusses to himself.

His rough palms cup your cheek, trying to get you to look at him then. But you were too far gone.

He spoke, anyway. Just in case you’ll hear it.

“It’s alright, doll. I won’t hurt you.”

Even now, weeks after he stole your life from you, he holds you and tells you the same thing anyway. The same set of words that manage to calm you down.

He does love you. And it breaks him every day to know he was the one to endanger you.

I won’t hurt you, I won’t hurt you.

[rhyssands]

june 04 - still i won't clot the wound pt. 1

prompt: radio rating: not rated wordcount: 1,606 characters: Sans, Papyrus, W. D. Gaster warnings: past character death; grief/mourning; sans is generally having a really bad time mental health-wise prompt from this post, read it on ao3 here

——

Sans can't remember the last time he actually got a decent amount of sleep.

Mostly, that's because if Papyrus hadn't strong-armed him into moving the Machine into the basement of their house on the Surface, and if Papyrus weren't making him leave it to eat three times a day, he wouldn't have any concept of time passing at all. As it is, everything's blurred into one long smear.

Papyrus is worried.

He knows Papyrus is worried.

But he just can't bring himself to give up on this. Not now.

Not after he actually saw Gaster.

His phone chimes in his pocket, a loud and jarring sound that makes him jolt and drop the wrench he's holding. It clatters onto the concrete floor of the basement, even louder than the phone chime, and he cringes away from it.

His skull is ringing. Equal odds as to whether it's from the noise, the sudden movements, or the fact he probably hasn't gotten more than two hours of sleep in a twenty-four hour period in... Months, he thinks. Hell, it could be all three at the same time, plus dehydration.

He shakes his head, which doesn't really help him, and tugs his phone out of his jacket pocket.

It's a text from Papyrus.

Paps: BROTHER, PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY UP TO THE KITCHEN AND EAT. THERE ARE SANDWICHES IN THE FRIDGE!

It's noon. The fact that Papyrus texted him means it's a weekday and he's at work. The fact Papyrus has sandwiches waiting for him is rote for those circumstances, he thinks, because he can't remember the last time there weren't sandwiches in the fridge for him at lunchtime on a weekday.

Skull still ringing, focus interrupted, he glances at the date, and goes still.

Another message comes in while he's staring uncomprehendingly at the screen.

Paps: I WILL BE HOME IN SOMEWHERE AROUND HALF AN HOUR FROM NOW. IF YOU DON'T EAT THE SANDWICHES, THEN I WILL MAKE YOU EAT WHEN I GET HOME. I AM BRINGING PIZZA! LADY TORIEL INSISTED I TAKE THE LEFTOVERS FROM TODAY'S FIRST-DAY-OF-SUMMER-SCHOOL PIZZA.

It's June.

Which means he's been working on this stupid machine in a mad dash to try and bring Gaster back for seven and a half fucking months.

It takes a long, long moment for him to reply to his brother's messages. When he does, he does so numbly.

Sans: heading upstairs now Sans: thx paps

Papyrus responds to tell him he's welcome, but Sans is barely paying any attention. He lowers his phone, slowly. It falls from his numb fingers, clattering onto the floor. It's not as loud as the wrench was. It makes a concerning cracking noise when it lands, but he can't find it within himself to actually be concerned.

He feels...

Numb, he thinks.

Seven months.

Seven months, and he's made almost no meaningful progress at all. He's fixed a few mechanical issues, some fried electrical circuits he hadn't gotten around to back in the day, but he's no closer to getting it functional than he was to begin with. He still doesn't know what's wrong with it.

His thoughts start to race, spinning out of his control. He can't—

The radio sitting unused in the corner of the basement, placed there by Papyrus who knows how long ago in hopes he wouldn't just sit in silence down here all the time, stops his spiral in its tracks.

Mostly, it does that by suddenly turning itself on.

Papyrus' music blares out of the speakers, jerking him back into the present moment. He whirls around to look at the infernal fucking contraption that just gave him a soul attack, but it shuts off as suddenly as it turned on. It only takes a couple of seconds for him to realize why.

Slouching goopily next to the table housing the radio is Gaster.

Instinctively, he CHECKs the apparition.

*W. D. Gaster — 66,666 ATK 66,666 DEF *Tick, tock.

Like the first time, the data glitches a second later, spiking his headache up higher.

*Aren't you going to help him?

And again, finally setting itself right.

*W. D. Gaster — 66 ATK 66 DEF *Your brother.

"I'm trying, G," He says, hoarsely. "I swear to you I'm trying to figure this out. I'm trying to get you back."

Gaster's head tilts, just slightly. He smiles, kind and fond. One of his hands appears, slowly moving. He points upwards.

"... Right," Sans says, "Lunch."

When he blinks, Gaster is gone.

He takes a deep breath, squeezes his eyes shut against his headache, and he goes upstairs.

—

"I just dunno, G." Sans sighs, kicking a rock. He shoves his hands further down into his jacket pockets and slumps forward. "Other kids can be dickheads. What if he hates it?"

Gaster doesn't chide him for swearing, nor for slouching.

When Sans glances over to see what he has to say, his elder brother merely frowns for a moment before shaking his head. "I am not certain that he won't dislike it. It is an unfortunate, but necessary, risk to take that he may hate it. He needs an education. Best that he start now."

Sans frowns, but he can't argue the logic.

... Okay, he could totally argue Gaster's logic, but it wouldn't get him anywhere and they'd really just be arguing for the sake of arguing.

Today is Papyrus' first day of school — he's almost five years old, by Gaster's estimates, so he's of school age. Sans did fine on his first day, but he was already almost nine by then and had enough life experience from living on the streets and raising a baby that nothing the other kids said or did really bothered him. Papyrus doesn't have that.

Papyrus is a good kid. And, sure, maybe Sans is a thoroughly biased judge, where his little brother is concerned, because he loves him to bits, but the point is that Papyrus is friendly as hell. He's a little weird by other monsters' standards, yeah, but...

Heh. Well, with Sans and G raising him, there's no way he wouldn't be a little weird by other monsters' standards.

Sans doesn't want him to hate it.

"... I just don't want the other kids to be mean to him." He admits, glumly, as they near the middle school.

Sans is nearly eleven, now, and starting today he'll be attending school at the middle school in New Home instead of the elementary school where Papyrus is. Admittedly, that's a good deal of the reason he's so worried. If he was still going to the same school...

Oh well.

No point dwelling.

"If the other children are cruel to him," Gaster says, primly, "Then we will deal with that issue when it arises."

It's 'quiet' between them a moment. Gaster signs nothing else, and Sans has nothing to say as he quietly stews in his concern.

Then, with obvious reluctance, Gaster's hands move again.

"... It's not that I don't understand your concern, Sans. I'm not much a fan of this, either. But Papyrus wanted to give it a try, and I'll not stop him from gaining life experiences on his own terms."

Unfortunately, it makes total sense.

Sans frowns unhappily down at the pavement. He finds another rock to kick ahead of him, so he does.

"... See you after school." He sighs, when they come to a stop just a little ways from the front doors, a safe distance from the various other guardian-and-child groups haunting the area.

"Yes." Gaster agrees, "We may go out for Nice Cream after, if you're amenable. I'm certain Papyrus would appreciate a treat as well."

Sans perks up a little at the prospect of a treat, and when Gaster opens an arm to offer a hug, Sans doesn't hesitate to accept. Then it's off through the crowds and into the school. He skipped over the whole meet-and-greet thing last week because he didn't feel like he needed to go, and G already gave him a tour of the middle school weeks ago.

He knows where he's going.

... He spends the whole day worrying about Papyrus.

Normally, he'd just be off-handedly wondering how Paps is holding up back at the Lab with G. Today, everything he does makes him wonder if Papyrus is doing okay. If the other kids are being nice. If the teacher is being nice. Papyrus doesn't sit still well. In Sans' experience, teachers don't like that.

When the final bell rings and he's allowed to leave, he meanders outside to wait for G to come get him. He knows the way back, and he could damn well walk himself if he wanted, but... He kind of likes having someone walk him places. It's a novelty he's still getting used to since G took he and Paps in.

Fifteen minutes after he gets outside, G comes strolling up with Papyrus clinging to one of his hands and gesticulating wildly with the hand he isn't holding on with.

"— and then, Miss Lola gave us all a cookie for paying attention so well!" He's saying, when he and G come within earshot, "And she told me I can get up and walk around the back of the room whenever I get restless as long as I don't bother anybody!"

He seems thrilled.

Sans' worry eases instantly.

When Papyrus sees him and immediately lets go of G's hand to book it across the short distance between them and slam into Sans' stomach for a hug, he finally relaxes. Papyrus had a good day. Everything is fine. Nothing's broken, the teacher and probably also the other kids were nice.

Everything is fine.

[yellingart]

Introing characters part 3

Okayyyy I tried to do this yesterday but accidentally deleted the post when it was almost done so WE ARE TRYING AGAIN There's only one character left that I consider in the main pantheon of characters that I use often as of lately, this time is Rickey! He's an awful pirate man. (Disclaimer: He is a bad person, he is evil and cruel, yes he is mentally unstable and probably needs like serious serious help but that doesn't justify any of his actions and I, as the artist, don't support his actions either, thought I'd get that out the way before starting)

First starting with his personality, he has a very strong character for sure, dominant, very aggressive, territorial even- Things will be done his way or they won't be done at all and someone will likely end up getting hurt. He's built like an animal, and has the mind of a fighting dog. He likes to think of himself as a leader, and if you follow him without arguing, he kind of is, even if just based off delusional inhuman drive towards unattainable goals.

Phisically he's quite strong, he takes a lot of pride on his phisical appearance, and likes to be very careful about it, making sure to shave every day, workout every day to keep himself strong.

He takes a lot of pride in being stronger than the people around him, and also, that's not all he has going on for himself, he's quite smart, he knows a lot of things and is very attentive to how people beheave around him. Mostly because his obsession with control and dominance but it does come in handy when it comes to predict other people's reactions.

Phisically, he wears his scars as trophies even. Most of them he can't even ubicate at all, he gets in fights pretty often, and he's not the kind to quit when he gets injured. Kinda like wild boars if he gets seriously hurt at least he'll make sure he takes you down with him, which is how he has ended up with some very bad injuries.

In his mouth, he has had several injuries, broken teeth and all, these are the worst because he absolutely despises dentist and doctors in general but specially dentists, just any medical proffessional that forces him to be put in a vulnerable position, and he will do all on his power to avoid getting anesthesia or anything similar, as he wants to be completely aware of what you do to him at all times.

Jewerly is also an important feature of him, he likes to decorate himself, he likes to wear heavy rings and chunks of gold.

The tattoo he has in his chest is from his jolly roger for the time he was a pirate, before he lost his crew. It's a skull with three arrows going through and it can be on black but it usually was red! He didn't usually make any prisioners. Everybody who dared to fight back would be killed and defeated, and whoever dared to surrender, would be probably executed anyway due to their disgusting cowardice.

He ruled his crew with an iron fist, violence is the answer to keep a good amount of healthy fear among your crew to make sure they don't dare to try and riot on you. HOWEVER that didn't go too well for him as he ended up losing the crew anyway, but for that we must get into a different terrain!

His backstory.

To start off this section we have to really start to get into his psyche and how his mind works, I'll start with a very important fact and is that his memory is bad, is terribly inaccurate at parts and tends to fill in the holes with his own making, lil bits of stories that fit his delusion.

His actual memory, like the moment when he starts having some very clear core memories, that doesn't start until he's about 13, and even then is incredibly blurry and full of holes until he's about 16. During this time he was enroled on a crew, in which he was really spitted by the captain and ended up attempting a mutiny to murder the man, he was successful on that but then got marooned by the crew, and the following years in which he had to be scrambling and dragging himself through the mud to hold himself up was, rough, but at 16 he started to get his life together again. He had a partner at the time (Colette - mint green) with which he had a daughter (Vesta - blue) and he got himself a new crew.

However, as you can imagine he wasn't very nice to Colette, she had an awful time by his side but was even more terrified to leave so her strategy to survive was make him believe she was a witch that could see the future, and that she could see how many great things the future had saved for him. That worked for a while, but as Vesta got older and more annoyinghe got increasingly irritated as well, and more violent, and Colette switched her narrative to try and scare him off, as he believed her story wholeheartedly.

She tried to convince him she will curse him if he hurted her or her child. Then while that worked, it backfire for her, as he took it as a challenge at first and ended up killing her to prove a point, he wasn't scared, that's ridiculous. But as things went on, by that point he already was on it with his quartermaster, who was probably the only person in his new crew that actually earned his trust by using the same language he used. They kind of saw eachother at the same level and he became quick some sort of second captain/quartermaster figure.

(He belongs to @angry-amoeba)

This time of his life was great, he remembers most of it, he was in control, he was grounded, he had the power to do whatever he wanted. These are the key things that give his mind stability.

However, the way he ruled his crew by fear and violence got some real awful tensions in the deck, people was scared of him, they wanted him gone more than anything, as he kept pushing and pushing and pushing and demanding more of them, without really giving them a break. It ended into an awful mutiny, he and his daughter being marooned and what he understood as a huge betrayal of the one person he actually trusted.

He lost absolutely everything, and the one thing about his mind is that while he's a very strong person in many other aspects, mentally he's extremely weak, and whenever his mind can't cope with reality, it just shuts down and goes into survival mode. In this state he becomes even more extremely violent and easy to trigger, and for days, if not weeks, Vesta who was put in a small raft to get somewhere safe, and was 11 at the time, had to fish her father out of the water almost unconscious and then deal with him in that state until they got to some shore.

This really... like their relationship wasnt amazing, but from then on it was truly awful. It was her moment of realicing fuck, my dad is really fucked in the head, and it broke that illusion of wanting to please and wanting to be enough for him. Now she absolutely despises him.

Rickey on the other hand, as his whole world crumbled and lost everything he had worked to obtain, he remembered Colette's words, and decided to believe he must be cursed. He started following and chasing ghost stories and folklore, trying to get some sort of superior power to restore whatever is wrong with him in an attempt to feel in control again as he despises almost every aspect of his life at the moment. He had always been but now specially he's become extremely paranoid of everything and everybody, to the point he won't accept food cooked by anybody but himself, and neither will be able to sleep surrounded by people.

He won't show any sort of weakness, not even when he's dead tired, he's always on edge and it's exhausting but he doesn't seem to be able to click off of it.

Vesta ended up abandoning him, too, and he refuses to aknowledge she's gone and still expects her back. In his delusion, he doesn't even understand why he was a bad father, or a bad partner, or a bad captain. He doesn't understand why all this is happening to him. So it must be a curse.

[aurora-phoenix-andromeda]

Kal'tra Norac

Basics

Species; Human Gender; Male, he/him Age; 51 (ish) Force Sensitive? Yes

Appearance

Height; 6'0" Skin Tone; Faded tan Tattoos/Scars; Being a Mandalorian, he has his share of scars. The most prominent one is the massive burn across his ribs. Many of the others are noteworthy in either size or prominence, but none share the depth of trauma that one does. As for tattoos, he has a few, but no big ones; a small star on the side of his neck, a ring around his bicep of the Resol'nare, and a little mythosaur skull on the back of his left hand. Eyes; Very dark brown. Hair; Also dark brown, slowly going grey. Posture; You know those old-timey Westerns with the sheriffs that stand with one hip cocked and one hand on their holster? It's like that. Think 'cowboy'. Dress; Mandalorian armor. The chest and backplates, helmet, left pauldron, and bracers are all beskar. The rest is plain metal. It's painted primarily black (for justice), with the beskar pauldron left silver/grey (for mourning), a dark forest green as a secondary color (for duty), and gold accents (for vengeance). Also, a short cloak of faded grey fabric, with a hood. Weapons/Tools; Aside from a pair of blasters and his inherited(?) saber, he also has a grappling hook, bracer-mounted crossbow, a solid dozen knives (not including throwing knives), an extendable sword in his boot, two different backup blasters, a bracer-mounted tazer, and a jetpack. Plus a dozen more details in his armor and undersuit that could make decent shivs in a pinch.

Attitude

Personality; As long as you're sticking to the topic of hiring him, he's calm and direct. He doesn't take shit but he won't give it either, usually. In casual conversation, he's pretty chill, if a man of few words. If he's pissed off, he turns into ice; very still, very quiet, very cold. Generally, he tries to be a decent sort, but the long and short of it is his Clan needs to be fed, and he'll do what he needs to do in order to get the credits he needs to do that. Likes; Animals, especially tookas. Would have one if they didn't cost credits he can give to his Clan. Enjoys word games- not the ones where you talk, but like. Space Scrabble. If he's home, sometimes he'll sit down for a while and end up in a pile of foundlings, and this is his most favorite thing ever because it reassures him his Clan is happy and safe, which is all he wants out of life. Dislikes; The Empire, the First Order, the Jedi, the Republic- basically any authority. A little fond of the Rebellion, but mostly because several of his Clan were involved in it in some way, and ends up disliking them when they become/merge with the New Republic. Hates, hates, hates the paperwork that comes with having a registered ship, and a bounty-hunting license, and a 'religious exemption' for having his weapons in most cities, and, and, and.... the stuff is endless. Give him an entire krayt dragon over paperwork, any day. Strengths; Excellent at keeping secrets. He's a very good shot and very skilled in improvised weaponry and hand to hand. Basically, he's best in a fight. He knows how to make the battlefield work for him, and uses it to his advantage frequently. Weaknesses; Excellent at keeping secrets. This includes from people that probably actually should know them. While he's great in a fight, his social skills are... somewhat lacking, and he has about as much charm as a dented left pauldron. He also tends to be brutally honest. If kids are in danger, he will drop whatever else he was doing to help them, which means, unfortunately, that several rivals have used kids as bait. They get what's coming to them.

Other

Ship; The Shereshoy Crew; None Droid(s); 3T-T3, "Ettie", a pit droid head with thrusters attached so she can float. He rescued her from the junk heap on some backwater planet. Color(s); Charcoal and gold.

Force

Rank; N/A Force Side; Light? Saber(s); One, yellow single-blade, Oracle hilt. When the Jedi that was supposed to take him to the Temple was killed, Kal'tra took the saber from his body, like the Force said he should. He's kept it ever since. It's not his, not really, but he can't let it go, either. Master; N/A Padawan; N/A Company; N/A Company Color(s); N/A Commander; N/A Troops; N/A

Skills

Force Skills; Minimal to none. Mostly it just gives him faster reaction time, better instincts, a hint of trouble before trouble happens. Sometimes, very rarely, a vision. Saber Skills; Uhhh. Poor? He's not very practiced with it. He keeps expecting it to have weight that it doesn't have, because he's more used to swords. It takes him a few swings, but usually he can get used to it enough to defend himself in a fight. Can't deflect blaster bolts or anything fancy, though. Other Skills; He's actually a very good cook. Years of working with what he had, making things that should taste like shit taste at least bearable, and using things that are probably only just safe for consumption means that he's very experienced in getting the best flavors out of what he's making. Just don't ask him to bake. He's not great at that.

Kal'tra Norac, as created in artbreeder.

[yeonban]

✔ shalfei ofc <3

Send me ✔ and I’ll bold what my muse would do with/for yours.

Acquaintance:

hold the door for them | help them carry something | let them borrow something | let them use their phone | smile at them when passing in the streets | shake hands with them | flirt with them in a bar | share a taxi with them | give them a ride home | lend them money | sit next to them on public transportation | offer them some food | help them find something they lost

Friendship:

let them stay the night | listen to them complain at 4 am | help them get over a break up | go out shopping with them | pet sit for them | help them move houses | help them find a lost pet (for a mission or smth) | go on vacation with them | stay up all night with them | help them hide a dead body | provide an alibi for them | take their side | talk about their future plans | be maid of honour/best man/etc. at their wedding | share food with them

Lover:

let them stay after sex | gentle sex | rough sex | experiment | handcuffs | bdsm | whips | orgasm denial | aftercare | cuddles after sex | tea/coffee/etc. after sex | gentle kisses | rough kisses | passionate kisses | sloppy kisses | lazy kisses | hang out without sex | hide their relationship | cheat on them | cheat on someone else with them | dirty talk | loving talk | gentle touches | rough touches | nervous/shy touches | say “I love you”

Married/dating:

take them on expensive dates | pay for dates | make them pay for dates | go to the movies | put out on the first date | get an arranged marriage | stay at home most nights | cuddle in front of the tv | propose first (although definitely not society's type of marriage) | drop hints until they propose | give a big/expensive/elaborate proposal | have a quiet proposal | say yes to a proposal from them | have a big wedding | have a small wedding | elope | get married in Vegas | go on an expensive honeymoon | go on a cheap honeymoon | have kids | get a pet | move in together | laugh during kisses | laugh during sex | tickle fights | fight over who’s cuter | make them sleep on the couch after fights | make up sex | angry sex | no sex | let their parents stay over | let their family visit often | tell them “I love you” every day

Platonic:

fight | hug | laugh at them when they get hurt | help them hide a dead body | provide an alibi for them | tell them they’re annoying at least once a day | share food with them | help them move houses | walk them down the isle | try to sell them online | set up an online dating account for them | set them up on blind dates | try to set them up with your friends | listen to their problems | help them cook | cook them food | make them watch shows they don’t like with them | tell them they’re an idiot/loser/dork/nerd affectionately

[lovelywingsart]

Loss

-- Karl Heisenberg X OC (AFAB, She/They) --

This is... possibly my favorite story I've written for them, I can't even lie. :'D I don't get to write this kind of stuff often!

Ever wonder why she's missing an eye? (And why she hates the creatures in the factory so much?) Well, now you know.

**Hey! Small reminder that I have a 'Masterlist' for this now! I'll get updated and organized with every story uploaded <3 Please enjoy!**

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*Warning?: Lots of blood, injury/loss of organ, death of multiple Haulers, general shock/panic from pain, medical help

Summary: While down in the tunnels, an unfortunate welding incident leads to a serious injury, dead zombies, and... a surprisingly caring Lord.

The sound of metal striking stone echoed through the tunnels. Grunts and groans of the mutant creatures who worked were common, though one was silent. Emelia kept her eyes on her own work, focusing enough to tune out the other noises except for that of the small welder she held up to a rather large pipe that was fixed to the stone wall. She kept her face covered with a mask, her eyes concentrated on the small area she needed to fix. It was an important pipe, one that would be used for fluid movement once fully integrated into the system of other pipes and machinery. It was a common job for her now, and she enjoyed it. She was relatively left alone due to the proximity of the sparks, and she had come to find that the creatures around her were technically under Lord Heisenbergs command. The man had mostly guaranteed they wouldn't touch her, and he had been mostly right. They didn't touch her physically, but sometimes they got a bit too close for comfort, both physically and while swinging their weapons. And so she preferred to stay off to the side most days, but this time she was forced to be close due to the area in dire need of repairing.

She was careful with the welding, mostly for her own well-being; One wrong move and she was potentially getting hurt. While the sparks from the welding hitting didn't bother her now as much they used to when she was fully human, the feeling of a mis-directed full blast from the welder onto her covered fingers was still a painful possibility, even with the thick gloves she was given. She had to admit, the close proximity of the mutant creatures made her... nervous. She forced herself not to jump with every strike their weapons made against the stone, though she stopped as there was a hit VERY close to her side.

The welder was turned off and she roughly lifted the helmet, glaring at the groaning creature that had stumbled close.

"Back off!!" She snarled, making the creature take a step back and give a screech in response.

She refrained from lunging at it, hearing Heisenbergs words in the back of her mind. 'They're brainless idiots, but they won't attack you as long as they have those pieces on their heads. Leave them alone and you'll be fine.' He had said, and she gave a huff. Sure, they wouldn't attack, but they would come damn close to simply hitting her as they swung their axes to chip away at stone.

She narrowed her eyes at the one who had wandered close as it simply resumed it's own work, failing to notice the ever growing crack it had been causing in a smaller pipe next to the one she was working on. She simply returned the helmet to its position over her face with a huff before turning back to the pipe, bringing the welder up to finish the section she had been working on. It was a decently sized spot, and it was almost done... The angle was tricky to work with, but not the worst. But she kept glancing over at the mutant next to her with every swing, the sound and vibration of the axe hitting the wall causing more of a ringing in her ears than the welder did.

The crack in the smaller pipe got larger and larger, resulting in a small hiss of air that she caught on to almost immediately. She paused, lowering the welder to listen. What the hell...

It wasn't until the hissing grew much louder that she realized where it was coming from, and she tore off the helmet as the mutant raised its axe once more.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU-" she started, taking a step closer to the creature.

She was halted as it swung hard, hitting the wall with enough force to make her teeth rattle. There was a split second of silence before the cracked pipe nearly exploded, sending pieces of shrapnel flying with a concentrated blast of scorching hot steam- directly into her face. She had unintentionally moved in front of it, not noticing until an excruciatingly searing pain shot through her system and she lost vision.

An ear piercing screech left her throat as she stumbled back, her hands clasping and tearing at her face in a desperate attempt to make the pain stop. Blood flowed down her face from a gash across her nose and left temple, and the flesh around her right eye bubbled and bled. Her eye... Through her grasping, her now blood-covered hands found their way to her eye, and the decently sized piece of curved shrapnel that had embedded itself into the organ. She couldn't stop the gasps and yells of pain, her own ears deaf to her noises as tears of pain and shock streamed down her cheeks. Oh god it hurt... It hurt so much... She couldn't see... She couldn't BREATHE...

The creature had backed away in a startled fashion at her yelling, and the others had stopped their with with their heads turned towards her as she began to hyperventilate. The metal... The metal was... She grabbed at the piece of piping that now protruded from her face, taking a near wheezing gasp before instinctively yanking it away to remove it- along with the eye itself.

Another shrill scream of pain echoed through the tunnels, followed closely by the sound of heavy, running footsteps as she dropped the item in another wave of shock. Her back hit the wall as she thrashed from the pain, blood splattering and dripping all over her front and the ground. The vision in her left eye was clouded from the pain, and so she didn't see Heisenberg nearly skid around the corner- but she heard him through her cries.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!" His voice boomed through the cavern, very obviously and incredibly pissed that his own work had been disturbed by the commotion. It wasn't until he realized the sight before him that he froze- the mutants had stopped working entirely, one even nearing something in the ground. That 'something', Heisenberg saw, was the piece of metal that had come from the broken pipe that was now filling the area with hot steam, embedded in a golden-irised eye. Blood covered the ground, a large trail of it leading to the source of the noise. His blood nearly ran cold as the sight of Emelia against the wall finally registered, her pained cries still echoing.

"What the hell-" he started, briskly making his way over to her as she doubled over and collapsed to her knees, blood now streaming down her arms and pooling on the ground as she kept her hands clasped over the right side of her face.

He managed to have her look up at him, his breath halting as she stared up at him with a wide eye and a horrified look on her blood soaked face. One more look around them helped fit the pieces together, and he lifted his arm. Smaller pieces of metal suddenly flew to the pipe, covering the hole and halting the steam. He instantly brought Emelia to his chest, feeling her shaking and sobbing as he bared his teeth. His attention was then directed at the mutant creatures, a spark of pure fury in his eyes as he shifted his hand. The metal devices over their heads suddenly constricted to extreme degrees, resulting in their skulls cracking and popping simultaneously with small explosions and fountains of blood. Each one fell to the ground as he made sure they were dead with the ever tightening devices, only stopping once their heads were nothing but piles of mush against the ground. His attention was turned once more to the crying woman against his chest, using his own hand to cover her face as he quickly picked her up. Her loud cries had resolved to panicked and pained sobs, her gasping breaths still irregular as he quickly made his way out.

"BREATHE, Emelia-" he said sternly, making a furious pace back towards the upper levels of the factory. He could feel her blood soaking through the shirt he wore, though he didn't exactly care at the current moment.

"Breathe." He repeated.

He utilized metal scraps to move quicker, and before he knew it, they were in his personal workshop. Emelias sobs had then lessened to wet gasps, though she still gripped her face under his hand while also gripping his jacket. It wasn't until he carefully set her down on a cushioned chair next to his table that she made an attempt to look at him, her mouth open as she took gasps and gulps of air. Heisenberg paused for a single moment, meeting her remaining eye. Her body shook as he finally pushed away, moving to rummage through a crate off to the side.

"You're in shock Emelia, you NEED to breathe." He said, finally returning with an impressive amount of medical supplies, namely gauze and a green liquid substance, as well as a simple clean rag. He knelt in front of her, managing to pry one of her hands away. The gashes along her nose and temple had healed about half way, though the one over her nose still bled a good amount. He ran the rag underneath the gash, clearing the blood away from her mouth and nose.

"Breathe. Can you hear me?" He asked, his voice now taking on a surprisingly concerned tone. He frowned as she didn't respond, simply staring at him as the stream of tears refused to slow. He grabbed her hand with his.

"Fine then, squeeze once for yes. Can. You. Hear. Me." He kept the rag pressed to her face, but gave a huff as he received a small squeeze around his fingers. "Good. I need you to BREATHE Emelia, you're not healing fast enough."

Emelia stared at him. Pain still surged through her system as she held onto his free hand, though she did attempt to control what breathing she could. Heisenberg seemed pleased as he listened, wiping away the remainder of the blood from the bottom half of her face.

"Good... Good." He spoke calmly, taking his hand away and nearly covering half of the rag with the green substance. She gave a pained whine as he pressed it to the gash, her breath catching in her throat and her body going rigid with sparks of pain as he dragged it along the wound. His eyes followed the rag, watching as the gash healed quicker with the liquid. He managed to clear her face of most of the blood before finally focusing on the area her other hand covered.

"I'm gonna need you to move your hand." He said simply, frowning as she let out a sudden scared whimper and backed away into the chair. He rolled his eyes and reached for her face, giving a slightly irritated grunt as she held up her free hand in near defense. "Emelia, if you don't move your hand, I'm going to pry it from your face and use every bit of scrap metal in this room to hold you down." He threatened, watching as she stiffened. "This will go much easier for you if you do what I say. Now move. Your. Hand."

He held up the rag in a threatening manor, moving two or three pieces of metal beside him to prove a point. Emelia was silent save for a few whines and whimpers, but her hand eventually twitched. She jumped as he lightly tugged her forward with her free hand, more panic returning to her remaining eye as her other hand was moved- and she realized she couldn't see. She couldn't see, and there was piercing, uncomfortable air where her right eye should have been. Another stream of tears started as her shoulders shook. When she pulled the metal, did she...- She didn't even realize...- She didn't think...-

Heisenbergs frown deepened as he saw the full extent of the damage, followed by her new, terrified sobs. The skin around the now empty socket had all but melted away, having bypassed the blistering point to be nothing but a bloody, shriveled mess. Her eyelids and eyebrow were now nonexistent, caught in the range of both the steam and the shrapnel that had hit her. The gash had actually traveled below her cheek and over her jaw, he noticed, and he pressed the rag against it to assist the healing process. But the eye... Or, the area where the eye used to be... That would take much longer due to the damage despite the bleeding having slowed considerably.

"Hold this." He said, grabbing her wrist and moving her hand to hold the rag against the bottom of the gash. Her lip trembled with silent sobs as he retrieved the gauze, nearly soaking it with the liquid as well. "This'll hurt like hell, but I need you to stay still." He said, leaning up to her height and holding onto her shoulder with a tight grip. Another scared whimper escaped her lips a she held up the gauze, though didn't move as he shot her a look.

She attempted to close her remaining eye and focus on the pressure of his hand on her shoulder, but was unable to stop the heavy cringe and cry of pain as the soaked gauze was pressed over the burns. Her hand flew up to hold Heisenbergs arm as if to push it away on instinct, but he forced her back against the chair to keep her still while she squirmed. He used his other hand to grab the other side of her face, managing to keep her head still with a grunt.

"Stay STILL." He growled, though he calmed somewhat as she gave him an odd look of fear. He sighed. "Easy..." he mumbled, keeping the soaked gauze pressed to her face while reaching for a new piece. He grabbed a larger, thicker piece, carefully maneuvering it over the one already against her skin. "Hold it."

He waited until her hand gingerly felt its way under his to hold the gauze, looking down in order to locate the small roll of medical tape he had grabbed. He pulled at it, nodding to her.

"Come here." He said simply, holding up a piece he had ripped off.

Emelia hesitantly moved forward, flinching as he applied pieces of the tape to the gauze and her skin, locking the substance in place while being careful to avoid the gash that intercepted the burns at points. She jumped as he suddenly grabbed her face to look straight forward at him, though was surprised to find his grip... gentle.

"You're still in shock." He said quietly, his voice having an entirely different tone than before. "You're staying up here for now. You don't get a choice."

She stared at him for a moment before giving a stiff nod. He returned the nod, standing in front of her, though unsurprised as she didn't move save for her shaking. There was a moment of silence as he moved the supplies to the table before giving a huff. Well, she couldn't just sit in the chair the whole time... She'd be in the way of his own work. But more importantly, she wouldn't have room to relax, nor would he have room to screw around with metal pieces as he usually did, and something told him she didn't want to see flying metal anytime soon. An idea suddenly clicked in his mind, and he shrugged.

"Alright. Hold on, Emmy." Hs said casually.

Emelia looked up at him for a moment before letting out a surprised yelp as he suddenly scooped her up into his arms. She held her palm over the gauze with one hand still, but held onto his shoulder for dear life with the other as he walked to the door hidden around the corner. She flinched and closed her eye as he nearly kicked it open, curling to his shoulder in a nervous huddle. He couldn't help but sigh as he felt her move, only stopping once he reached a small room at the top of another set of stairs. More tables lined the walls, as well as a small couch-like object in the corner. He took her to the couch, setting her down carefully and watching as she cuddled to the cushions with a shudder and a sniffle.

"Stay here for... however long." He said, looking down at his blood stained clothing with a frown. "I need to change my shirt."

He nearly chuckled as she let out a whimper.

"Eh, I'm not worried. Wish I would've been a bit more prepared for blood is all." He replied simply, shrugging off his jacket. She flinched as he draped it over her shoulders, though she almost instantly cuddles into it with a shaky breath. An amused smile crossed his features before he stood straight, turning to head towards the door. "I'll come back with more gauze... Next time, don't move. The shock should wear off in a bit, but the pain will last longer. Trust me, I know."

He received no response save for another whimper before he finally left the room. This would be one hell of a few hours, he thought... Maybe days, depending. He knew she'd be fine... She always was. Wait, why was he even worried? WAS he worried??

Oh, hell... This would be interesting.

[punkscowardschampions]

Rio & Grace

Rio: Gracie! Can't tie either parental down so you're unlucky enough to be my first port of call Rio: If I come down this week (half term, right? God I feel old not knowing, ick!) how many of yous are gonna be about? Wanna catch all of you if I can Grace: I'm not surprised, Nico thinks mum's charger is the most fun thing EVER and you know dad still kicks it like he's at some 70s disco instead of a restaurant kitchen. So cringe! Grace: Iggy's took off in the van and Pablo's never here even when he is (ugh we get it, you're hanging shush) but everyone else maybe? Grace: Unless Junior's nerding it up idk Rio: Bless them, you'll miss them when you go Rio: Mum and Dad, the cats, only your faves and Nico is a little bitch 😂 Rio: Good enough for me! Sure enough I'll only hold any of yas down for a hot second regardless Rio: What've you been up to? Got any fun plans then? Grace: 😂 No way they're the worst and won't give me the chance Grace: Ask Janis they're always in her grill now she has a bf she can't ever peel herself off of Grace: Gurl you better make time for me! 😚 London's like another planet and I need that goss Grace: Gotta keep uploading that 🐰🐣 content Grace: but keeping it lowkey 👌 Rio: They're highkey nerds, tis true, least they give a shit, eh? 😘 Rio: Fucking knew it, sneaky bitch. I asked her at NYE and she said nah but I KNEW Rio: Ugh, gonna give her SO much shit when I come back 😂 Rio: Duh! My goss might not set the teenybop influencer world alight but think you'll be into it Rio: Also, got some lush bunny ears from work you can style up if you like, there's the content Rio: Very Ariana Grace: We're so blessed 🙏 Grace: OMFG THANK YOU 👏 she's such a lying bitch Grace: And they are so 😍💍💘 it's HONESTLY disgusting like I can't Grace: YAS 👑!! babes I knew I was missing you Grace: Such a mood Rio: 🙌 Rio: Steady on 😂 Fill me on the beef before I'm taking sides Rio: Can't roll like that babe 🙉 Rio: Is he a twat? I could barely get a look in, hot property with the whole fam that night not just Jan, like 😏 Rio: Right? My turn to THANK YOU 'cos all the other girls were raging after me lemme tell you, saying it reeked of misogyny and cheesy old school playboy Rio: Not educated in Hef paving the way for ladies being allowed to be sexual, ESP the sistas 💣💥 Rio: Its iconic, yeah? Like hush Grace: Honey not even! Now he's got her feeling the 💖 we all benefit Grace: Like from 💀 to 😍!! Grace: Here's the thing he's NICE!! 😮 How and who tf !! 😂 In THESE ends Grace: He's pimped my feed with his 📷 more that once. Lush! Grace: Trust her to find the one decent lad Grace: OMG how shaming! it's literally so on point I feel bad for how off they are. Beyond awkward Grace: 👯💜 Rio: Can't argue with that Rio: It'll be nice to see her happy Rio: All of yous Rio: Yeah, had noticed your new lad was off the feed Rio: Just not the one or do I need to crack skulls on YOUR behalf? Spill! 😘 Maybe Gus has had his 💔 Rio: Right? Not complaining when they were raking in the tips and looking fly doing it, this is why Vinnie listens to me and not them though so 💋 win win for me Grace: 🤞 Grace: UGH don't go there babe Grace: I'm off men rn 🙏 so you can relax Grace: Give Gus and Diego their time to shine 😂 Grace: OMG PLEASE say you can finally get me in sometime soon! 💋 Rio: Good girl 👍 Rio: Me too, more trouble than they're worth, and I'll always check what they're worth, feel me Rio: Love 'em 😂 I'd say they keep me sane but not with the shenanigans they still manage to get themselves into, nah lads Rio: You're old enough that I can vouch for you with him to get you in but Imma need to go out in Dubo with you first Rio: See how you handle your liquor, can't be risking the boss' license if you're gonna get #WGW 😏 Grace: I 100% swear down that D has a 💘 at his school but he's pulling a Jan over it so Grace: Yay! I'm buzzing Grace: Say when and I'll be on it Grace: The vibe looks EPIC in every insta it's 💕 Rio: Surely not! My babies! 😭 Rio: I've changed all ya nappies, it ain't right, I tell ya! 👵 Rio: Whenever you can pencil me in darling 💋 If you come back on the plane with me you'll only have to do the one back alone Rio: Unless you want to bring a mate but you've gotta vouch for them 'cos I don't know them enough to put my name on the line, they ain't my little sister 💛 Grace: 😂😂 I had to go full spa on him cos he was 🙎 and not vibing with the sheet masks he'd been stealing from me for WEEKS 😂😂 Grace: He's so 😍 for someone Grace: This is HAPPENING 👌 Mum'll say yes cos it's obvs for my mental health Grace: It's enough for collab our schedules tbh imagine trying to get the squad hooked up Rio: Aww! What a little sweetie! 😭 Giving me so much fodder to get 'em all with, yas gurl! 🙊 Rio: She defs knows the benefit of letting ya hair down and if she disagrees then she ain't our Muvva 👽 Rio: Same when I was your age, so many parties, so much time stretching ahead...ugh, hark at me Rio: Speaking of though, Pabs has managed to keep outta the drunk tanks since my last visit, yeah? 🙄 Chief Grace: I'd say go easy cos the acne is !! but where was mine was I was a 🍕 me and payback are bitches that have each other's backs like 😂 Grace: So welcome 💋 remember who treated you right hun 😚 Grace: Oh babe that's proper tragic 😂 Are you okay?! Grace: 🙄🙄 Grace: I'd lie to spare your feels but I can't even cos he is not forgiven! Fuck him truly Rio: Way harsh babe! Gotta share that knowledge and spot treatment 🙏 older sib duties ✌ you only gotta look out for them 3, feel MY pain when I wanna be a petty bitch please 😉😂 Rio: Clearly not, like...What tf am I like? 🙈 Rio: Still in the dog house then...I hope little miss tiny tits is too, seen her being snide on the 'gram Rio: we know she's no 😇 so as long as she's getting her share of the 💩 from you, I ain't judging on the Pabs score 👌 Grace: 😈 LMAO jks obvs I'm living for getting to flex like that Grace: Nobody else lets me near their face, their loss but still BOO Grace: Ugh yes cos he doesn't even see that he did me WRONG she was trying he's just an idiot and its like BOY NO Grace: Never learning them lessons Grace: 🚫 No worries there she's BEYOND cancelled 🚫 Grace: I hate that bitch Rio: That's why you gotta get them clients honey, just you wait, people will be BEGGIN' for your time and expertise 😘 Rio: Yeah, he's a fool in general though Rio: Not to say that ain't valid, 'cos 100% babe, but it wasn't personal, like Rio: Try to remember that 'cos he's not that boy, no matter what typa foolishness he's caught up in rn 😒 Rio: 👏 I like what I'm hearing, Gracie! So much growth! Rio: Here for it Grace: I feel you but also it's like idk it was personal to me cos she was my best friend and he knew that Grace: On some level idk Grace: Whatever I'm trying to be over it Grace: There's bigger 🐠 Rio: Fair Rio: Idk if he knows he knew...Mouthful Rio: Give him time and a chance, but that's it, sensible big sister said her piece on that, you're free to go on doing what you're doing 😜 Grace: Thanks 👑 Grace: Rio, I can forreal come to london right? Like you're not just shhing me Grace: I'm so done with this place atm Rio: Of course you can Rio: As long as the 'rents sign off on it, you can stay for as long as you like Rio: That's Dubo for ya...gets under your skin Rio: Anything else I can do, tho? Grace: 💜 Grace: Ugh it's just everything Grace: There's barely anything I can do Grace: Ignore me I'm a hormonal 👾 Rio: Have you had your B12 and folates checked? Billie and Edie were anaemic you should double-check 'cos that will have you feeling rough as Grace: 👼 You're adorbs Grace: Enough of my chatter anyway, how are you? Rio: 👀 okurr but we're coming back to this later Rio: 'cos I'm same old same old Rio: Nothing beyond the promised goss of London to report Rio: No boys, remember? Grace: 🙄🙄 Grace: Oh please you always have a boy Grace: Spill it Rio: 😨 Swear on my life, babe! Rio: Nothing and no one Grace: We're twinning then 💕 Grace: Do tell Janis 😂 Rio: Coming for ya brand Rio: Shameless 😏 like to think I could pass, not that old or having THAT crisis tho, jfc Grace: 👯💣🔥 Grace: You're flawless babe don't even stress Grace: when I'm your age I'll have to pray Rio: Aww, you doll, extra brownie points for boosting my ego 💋 Rio: What you chattin'?! We're all babes, lbr Grace: 😂 shhh avó be repping herself hard in me and no offence 👵 it's not goals 💔 lmao Grace: obrigado,... mas não, obrigado like she rocks it but she's also way old so Grace: the struggle is real 😂 Rio: You're mad gal Rio: don't be wasting your youth hating on what you'll miss Rio: though we all age like fine wine, avó paving the way 💣 Rio: Ma was onto something having us so young Grace: Don't let her hear you say that Grace: My ears are still ringing from her calling me out Rio: umm Rio: BISH YOU WHAT Grace: 🤷 No drama just Rio: You weren't on the pill? Or missed a day? Rio: We've all had the scare but I never got as far as needing to tell Mum Rio: You poor thing! 😨🙈 Grace: Well obvs that was my bad but she only made me die about a thousand times Grace: I survived Rio: Eeep! Rio: At least she didn't march you down the clinic in a shame cone like most would round here Grace: OMG like she made me go but my ootd was my own doing 🙏 Rio: Not so much as a high collar in sight 🙌 Rio: Explains your hormones though, babe, that shit will FUCK you up for ages Rio: so no worries there Grace: I know exactly what I'm in for Grace: Ugh Rio: Forreals Rio: Who'd be a fucking woman, eh? Grace: Mia. To fuck over the others Grace: kms Rio: 😂 Rio: Fueled by her PMS that one Grace: [Sends her 2 very similar selfies} which one do you vibe the most with? Rio: 1st one, s'more natural Rio: smile ALMOST reaches your eyes Grace: lmao Grace: Thanks babes Rio: if you gonna fake it 'til you make it Rio: gotta keep you the realest, ain't I? 😉 Grace: gotta keep me 😂 Rio: Wanna Rio: Blood ties aside 😘 Grace: 💜 Rio: Best get ready for work Rio: Could use you here to do my look for me, cba tonight 😐 blah Grace: I'd be living for that you know it but you'll be killing it with or without me, honey Grace: You got this gurl Rio: Cheers 🍸 Rio: I'll get the first round in when I see ya boo 💋 Grace: Yay! So excited 😚