h e a r t

grace keane. thirty-five. trauma surgeon. rowan harrington. forty-two. tattoo artist bodhi roman. forty. owner of the red velvet. ❝ If you were ᴄʜᴜʀᴄʜ, I'd get on my knees Confess my love, I'd know where to be My sanctuary, you're holy to me If you were ᴄʜᴜʀᴄʜ, I'd get on my knees I'd get on my knees, I'd get on my knees Take the ᴘᴀɪɴ Make it billboard big and swallow it for me Time capsule for the future Trust me, that's what I will be Oh, the things that you do in the name of what you love You are ᴅᴏᴏᴍᴇᴅ but just enough You are ᴅᴏᴏᴍᴇᴅ but just enough ❞

[onmyknces]

mr-adam-nelson:

“It is sort of a bland party, isn’t it?” Adam asked the woman, picking at the food now as he spread a bit of the spicy paste over the roll. “And I seriously doubt any order member would be interested in someone as boring as me,” replied the man with a dour look. He did, however, give her a bit of a secret smile. “Not a fan of the Order, eh? Can’t blame you too much.” He took a bite of the sushi and shrugged. “Well, the crab seems to be fresh and it’s ice cold which is nice. Better than expected,” admitted Adam.

          “Bland? Do you often go to huge masquerade balls with free top shelf liquor and finely catered food? Am I missing out on a slice of Bleak Falls life?” An eyebrow popped up behind her mask. She was genuinely curious. It wasn’t her scene by any stretch of the imagination. She preferred house parties where the stench of weed permeated her clothing and stale beer was a close second. But this party was far from bland. “You sure? I think you’re not boring anymore. You have a mark which means you’re worth something in this town now.” She followed his smile with her eyes and shrugged in response. “I would be more inclined to like them if they didn’t pair me with my ex-wife. What’s your beef with them? Good to know the sushi is edible. I’d demand my money back if it wasn’t.” 

[onmyknces]

thcmasbriars:

         The place felt cramped; the air heavy and warm, chattering filling his ears as adjusted his mask. Thomas tried to avoid collisions, whispers of ‘excuse me’ leaving his mouth as he pushed his way through the crowd. It was not difficult to spot Grace, as he had seen her before. But his steps were slow, tentative even as he approached her, trying his best to smile. "I brought you this,“ he said, in lieu of greeting, moving to stand by her side. He handed her a flute of champagne, and moved his attention to the waltzing, standing silently next to her. 

         Thomas knew that perhaps he should say something, but no words came to mind. This thing between them is awkward at best, and Thomas decided it would wise to let the silence wash over them. But as he glanced around the room, spotting couples twirling around, and a group of people clumping together by the tables, excitedly waiting for a kind soul to take them dancing throughout the night, he sighed, turning to Grace and holding his hand out. "Would you like to dance with me?”

@onmyknces

              The ball was a stupid idea. One she would never voice publicly. Only in the confines of her home with Sabrina and a glass of wine. The dress fit beautifully and that was about as much enthusiasm she could muster for the whole evening. For some reason, she had agreed to go with Thomas, her future husband. She didn’t like him. No real reason why she shouldn’t, but everything about him irked her. His voice pulled her from her thoughts. With a soft ‘thank you’, she took the champagne. A small sip followed and the bubbles tickled her nose. 

The silence between them stretched between them. It made her nervous and Grace rarely felt nervous. She thrived on being in control and having the answer to any situation. But she was out of her depth. Nothing came to mind for her to break the silence. And then Thomas was turning to her and offering her his hand. She looked at it and then back up at him. She took a deep drink of the champagne and put it down on a nearby table. Licking her lips, she took his hand. “Alright then. Don’t step on my feet. These shoes are expensive.” The comment was unnecessary, but she couldn’t help herself. It was instinct. Once on the floor, she got to him as close as she could stomach and started to dance. 

[onmyknces]

begviled:

                     Rowan’s gaze remained fixed south of Naomi’s face, right where she knew it would be, given the amount of skin that was unveiled by the cut of her jacket. “I never suggested that you were. How much have you had?” she asked dryly, nodding to the glass her ex-wife was generously nursing. She was doing her own share of draining the event’s supply of champagne, but it had yet to cause any clouding of her judgment. But now that Rowan had emerged from the crowd, wielding her share of unrelentingly mediocre barbs, another round or two seemed imminent, if only to blur the memory of this not-so-chance encounter. “If it was really that bad, you could have left at any time. Without the drama of having me walk in on you. But why would you ever have an adult conversation with me when you could be a tactless cunt?” 

Naomi took a nonchalant sip from her glass, rolling her eyes when she noticed Rowan giving her a measured look. “And there’s enough people here that you could have made it a bit more difficult. God forbid you miss an opportunity to make a scene.” For as long as she could remember, the redhead had a flair for the dramatic, always instigating trouble to rock the boat. It had excited Naomi at first, but years of having to wrangle an unruly woman had left her angry. “Therapy? That’s rich, coming from you.” She snorted and adjusted the silver mask that was irritating her skin as Rowan spoke of preferring death to a second marriage. Only a few more hours before she could destroy it ⏤ the mask, that is. “That can be arranged just as easily as another wedding.” 

           Her eyes fell to the glass in her hand. In all honesty, she couldn’t quite remember. Not that it mattered. She’d end up at home or asleep in the library or something. In the morning, The Order could kick her our and reprimand her. In her eyes, they fucking owed her. “Does it matter? Are you my mother?” She turned a little from her to finish the glass. It was probably a good time to slow down, but it wasn’t everyday that she got free drink and food. A smirk appeared on her lips at the barb. She hated herself -- hated the way she imploded the marriage. But she had thrown all her chips in and she was going to stick by it. Now wasn’t the time to apologize. She was hoping for it to never happen. And she was able to get away with it now that they were separated. It was easy to ignore Naomi in the small down when they were both active participants. The saying was that life was too short for regrets, but hers seemed to drag on. She also hated the way that Naomi’s mouth curled around the word cunt. It made her nerve endings tingle. “Fair enough. Anything else?”

An eyebrow shot up that would be impossible to be seen with the mask resting on her face. The thing was fucking stupid. Growing up in the same town all their lives, for most people it would be easy to pick each other out. “Am I making a scene? We’re having a conversation. You’re the one calling me a tactless cunt.” A waiter walked by and she grabbed another flute of champagne. Waiting seemed stupid now. “Therapy? I’ve gone.” It was a throwaway comment and one she didn’t want to expand on. “Are you offering to murder me? Who said romance was dead?”

[onmyknces]

begviled:

                    Thirty seconds into her most recent (and, undoubtedly, soon to be regrettable) encounter with Rowan, Naomi realized that the curse of having to wed the snake once again was far worse than she had imagined ⏤ and she had already multiplied the hurt and anger experienced after their first marriage had hit a deal-breaking snag. 

Before Naomi could even open respond to Rowan, the woman was reaching out to tap her breast through her jacket. The outfit, designed by the Order’s tailors, was a modern take on a pantsuit. Less female politician and more dangerously inappropriate working woman, sans the standard blouse. The jacket barely covered her chest; fashion tape had done wonders for keeping everything in check. Not that she would be bothered by it. She already felt like a modern Botticelli painting with her raven-hued hair cascading down her back in gentle waves, and the hint of something more in the cleavage that was on display in her plunging jacket. 

“Maybe it’s your memory playing tricks on you. Nothing’s changed, apart from being free of you.” Naomi didn’t falter in establishing eye contact with the redhead, whose crystalline eyes seemed to be glinting with mischief from behind her dark mask. “It’s endearing that you think I’ve been preparing to see you since I opened that joke of a letter. I’m only here to avoid whatever recourse the Order would enact on dissenting parties.” It may not have been what Rowan wanted to hear, but it was the truth. Naomi wasn’t about to start any shit with the Order, regardless of how fucking moronic they’d been, pairing her with her ex-wife. “I have enough anger to go around, thanks. But this isn’t like you, asking for a ceasefire.” Leaning in suddenly, she added in a conspiratorial stage whisper: “Are you dying?”

            Her gaze stayed focused on Naomi’s chest. She hated being weak. She had been convincing herself over the last few months that she didn’t need her. Naomi was a mistake -- a long, drawn out, sexy... mistake. It was easy to stick to that story when she was locked away in her studio. Appointments filled her days as well as her new apprentice who was far too eager for her liking. He annoyed her with every question that filled his seemingly empty head. Maybe she had been like this with John, but she wanted to believe her apprenticeship had been less grating than this. But her time had been filled with work, alcohol, and every avoidance tactic she had perfected in her forty-two years alive. And with the appearance of the mark and envelope at her home, everything began to fracture. 

Her smile didn’t falter. It would be a mistake to show any weakness to Naomi. Her ex would pounce on it like a tiger looking for a meal. It was something she used to admire, except not in this moment. It was much better to stand by and watch her attack someone else. She waved her hand doing her best to dismiss her words. Maybe Rowan could still escape into the champagne and forget this night was happening. “You think I’m here to see you?” She scoffed. Another deeper drink of the champagne. It was partially true. She was always one for pain, her chosen profession and now standing here in front of Naomi. “I already lived with a witch for almost six years. I’m in no rush to have another one haunting me anytime soon. It was just hard to ignore you.” Rowan took her time looking her up and down.

Turning her eyes away from Naomi, she took another sip of the champagne. It was a good thing that a mask covered half of her face. Her eyes shot back to the medical examiner in a flash. A smirk played on her lips as she shook her head. “You should see a therapist about the anger. I wish I was so lucky. Death seems like a better option than marrying you again.” 

[onmyknces]

harlowwindsor:

While everyone else was coupled up, Harlow kept her lips pressed to a glass the entire time. She was about three champagnes in when she nearly ran into Bodhi. The florist was mid-chug when he held a shrimp out to her, and swallowed quickly so she didn’t spit it out. “Sure.” The tipsy brunette grabbed the appetizer and ate it just as fast, her cheeks full like a chipmunk.

            A smile tugged at his lips as Harlow plucked the appetizer from his fingers. Unlike most people, she rolled with it. Taking a sip of his champagne, he looked around the floor. No sign of Beelzebub. “You can chew you know?” He washed down his bite with a big gulp of champagne. “What else are you eating? You want to share the wealth. I think that waiter is going to avoid me at all costs.” 

[onmyknces]

mr-adam-nelson:

“I know, blasphemy will have a lightning bolt fly from the sky and fry me where I stand,” he grinned haphazardly as he picked up the spoon and spread green paste across the top of it. The horseradish of the Wasabi sauce filled the air and as usual to him, made it all the more palatable. “I haven’t really seen any Order peeps roaming around here, so I’m wondering if this is the cast off from their own party? Maybe we’re getting the leftovers?” he asked, picking up a bit of the Cali roll with a set of chopsticks and taking a bite.

           “More like one of the Order members will appear and tear your heart out of your chest Indiana Jones style. I’m likely to encourage you just to see if it will happen. No offense. I just would kill for a little entertainment.” She watched as he spread a nauseating amount of wasabi on his sushi. His insides were sure to be cleared out later that night. “They probably are watching us from somewhere. I can’t imagine they would actual mingle with us. And that’s for the best. For their health.” She grumbled out the last part. Their sense of humor still had her feeling raw. “How is it?” 

[onmyknces]

begviled:

                    It was bullshit. Bleak Falls had been held captive to the needs, wants and whims of the infamous witch for centuries, and there didn’t seem to be an end in sight. Especially tonight. There had been an apparent lapse in entertainment for the old hag, who had sentenced dozens of residents to bear the mark, which would invariably result in their union with another bearer. Only this time, the wench had outdone herself with selecting more than the usual pair for wedding season, which is why the masquerade was unfolding before her as she set an empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter. There was nothing that she wanted less than to see Rowan Harrington, her ex-wife and full-time hellspawn. 

The woman had blown through Naomi’s life like a hurricane. Their relationship had been wild, but it had also produced its share of destruction, especially toward the end, when Rowan decided she was bored and opted to implode the relationship instead of putting any effort into fixing things. Naomi hadn’t been eager to give her what she wanted, and so she imprisoned her unruly wife within the confines of their marriage, punishing her for being so selfish and cruel by refusing to react how the redhead wanted her to. The affair had been staged in their marital bed with the goal of eliciting a reaction from Naomi; there wasn’t a doubt in the brunette’s mind that her wife was hoping that she would call her names, kick her out, and serve her with divorce papers. So she did the opposite: she met her actions with indifference, she let her stay, and she divorce papers didn’t come ⏤ until Naomi had convinced her adoring wife that they were back on good terms, only so she could be the one to pull the rug out from under the conniving bitch.

Naomi had spotted Rowan before the woman had joined her, and already she was tired. It was only a matter of time now before she got a good dose of her ex-wife to last another six months. (Not that the witch would allow such a reprieve.) The redheaded demon had scared off her company for a matter of seconds before she was back to her old ways, insulting her breasts. 

“You loved them when we were together,“ Naomi retorted, her voice even, if a bit smarmy. “Well enough to know they’re real.” The petite redhead’s comment that avoiding one another was fruitless was the only truthful thing she’d said so far, even if she disagreed. “Oh, I think we could. You managed to do it just fine before. This should be a cakewalk for you. Just remember: the ritual is for us to fuck after we’re married, and not for you to be knuckle-deep in the closest vagina once the ceremony’s over. I know that’s confusing for you ⏤ or at least it was when we were married the first time.”

             Naomi definitely had been drinking. Her attitude while would usually be off putting, was somehow a turn on for Rowan. She missed her ex wife. It wasn’t something she would openly admit, not even to herself. She had fucked up -- gotten bored and made sure to implode the marriage before it could fall apart on itself. She made the decision not to work at it, but ensure that it would end. Per usual, Naomi had one upped her. She hadn’t let Rowan a way out. She let her get complacent and think their marriage was back on track. Then the divorce papers arrived. To say that the tattoo artist was impressed would be an understatement. Beneath the sting and hurt, she knew she deserved it. It was what she had wanted. But instead of on her terms, Naomi flipped the script. 

It had been six months since they had spoken to each other. Signing the papers was supposed to be freeing and yet... A smirk unfolded behind her mask. “How do I know what you’ve done in six months? Some people buy a car. They look perkier.” She reached out to smack on playfully before draining her champagne. She put down the glass noisily. “Touchè. Have you been working on that one since you got the envelope?” She saw a waiter walk by and she grabbed another flute. “Can we be civil for one night? Or I suggest we turn our anger on the Order.” 

[onmyknces]

sabmurphys:

“Well sure, but then I know I’d be prime suspect number one if you ended up dying mysteriously and I’m not entirely sure I’d survive in jail very long.” She downed the last bit of her champagne, sighing in satisfaction as she drained the glass but choosing not to grab another for the time being. Instead, she kept the flute in hand, letting her finger trail along its rim absentmindedly and raising her brows at Bodhi’s response. “Hardly. Think of it more as a tendency to hold a serious grudge. Hey, who’s to say the witch doesn’t go both ways? Distinct possibility, there.” A shrug punctuated her thought and she merely snorted before responding to his question as sarcastically as ever. “Because I’d rather get my calories through alcohol, thanks. Plus, I’d rather have some semblance of having manners, and I don’t think shoveling food would do much to help that image much.”

            “Are you serious? You would own the jail. You’re a fucking soul sucking vampire. Jail was made for you.” He glanced around nervously hoping no security was coming to take either of them away. He didn’t trust the Order, especially not Vaughan. “Sure, a serious grudge against someone you proclaim to hate so much.” He took a deep drink from his flute and continued to glance around. He wasn’t sure exactly who was here, but he wouldn’t doubt if the damn witch wasn’t here. “She stole a princess. Maybe she is, but I’m not expert.” He grabbed another puff and took a big bite. “Can you please eat something? No one fucking cares, plus you’re wearing a mask. Although, I’m sure your shadow looks like the Babadook and that’s telling.”

[onmyknces]

freyaslowells:

         Despite the situation, Freya couldn’t help how her lips curled into the brightest smile. She adored balls, the lavish decoration, the staff, the food, the good alcohol – It filled her heart with joy. For a night, and one night alone, she wanted to forget the witch; even with the mark aching and the envelope on her room. She avoided Ms. Vaughan and Ex Mrs. Vaughan at all costs, however, not wanting to deal with them. She cared little for where her pair was, or the people making out in the darkest corner of the room – She only wanted another drink of champagne. But she found herself staring an oaf instead, clicking her tongue and shaking her head softly. “Don’t you have some manners?”

               A groan left his lips when he recognized Freya -- her voice always recognizable. Of course she would be one of the marked. He had met her a few times over the years and the one word that always developed in his mind after meeting her was fucking princess -- maybe two words. He stuffed the puff into his mouth and chewed slowly. He took a sip of champagne before looking her up and down. “I offered you one. How is that not having manners?” 

[amazingamyadams]

Sharp Objects (2018) Teaser Trailer

[onmyknces]

mr-adam-nelson:

On his third drink of the night, Adam finally made his way over to the long spread of food items on display against the opposite wall. There was a lot of it. The man had to figure the witch wanted to fatten everyone up like Hansel & Gretel perhaps? Being both the librarian and amateur sleuth when it came to the mystery of Bleak Falls, he did not go without thinking that there was a reason behind all this - some maneuver or plan that would further keep everyone in the clutches of the Hag forever, if she had her way. There had to be another way, he thought to himself, carefully sliding two pieces of sushi onto a plate before standing there and pondering it for a moment. “I don’t know,” he commented to a person beside him, looking over. “Do you think this is upscale from gas station sushi? The last thing I want to do is end up sick to my stomach from this stuff.” 

           Her stomach grumbled as she made her way through the party. It was better to keep to herself for as much of the night as she could. She’d bump into Naomi soon enough -- her stomach a mixture of excitement and dread. Food would settle it. She was slightly lightheaded with all the champagne she had downed earlier. It wasn’t nearly enough. As she walked up and down the food table, she was interrupted by a man in front of her. He seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place him. “Are you comparing an Order member’s sushi to gas station sushi? I’m fairly sure you might get murdered for such a comparison.”

[onmyknces]

ravenhartleyx:

“Because frankly I don’t care. I don’t want to be here.” She muttered and looked down. “First college party I went to a man tried to force me into something I didn’t want. Never went after that.” She looked over at her. “Sadly yes, and I feel bad for whomever they pair me with. Because I gave up on wanting love and marriage a long time ago. I won’t be able to make them happy.”

             “Do you think you’re the only one who doesn’t want to be here? Not one of us here asked for this mark. Believe you me.” She slung back more champagne and laughed bitterly. If this woman was going to unlock her level five trauma within the first five minutes, then Rowan could match her. “Men are shit. I’m sorry that happened to you.” Another bitter laugh followed as she took another sip. She wasn’t drunk enough for any of this. She knew Naomi was slinking around the mansion probably causing havoc. “You seem like a ray of sunshine, so I couldn’t see why. I got paired with my ex wife. The Order seems to have a sense of humor.” 

[onmyknces]

ericmorgcn:

As unsettled as he was about being swept up into the latest marriage season, Eric wouldn’t go as far as cursing the Order. Hell, he was pretty sure that if he voiced a single complaint, his own family be prepared to cut out his tongue – loyalty was only fun to an extent. Still, he wore a lazy smile while shaking his head, watching as the other chowed down. “It’s really the hors d'oeuvres and free liquor making this evening. But, ah, neither.” Eric shrugged in reply, taking another drink of champagne before continuing, “I read her name, but that’s as much executive decision as I’ve made about… any of this. I’m taking it all as it comes, y’know?” And really trying to get drunk. Tipping his head back, he downed the last of the bubbly in his glass and asked next, “What’s got you avoiding your other half? – Bad experience? Are they hideous?”

             “The free everything is the only thing making this night. I’m afraid when the clock chimes midnight all our clothes will disappear and turn into pumpkins.” He took another sip from his champagne glass as he looked the man over. He was sure he knew him, but sometimes life was a blur. Running the only strip club in Bleak Falls meant he met a lot of people. “I get it. I wish I could just ignore mine. Is it because you don’t want to meet her or just been busy?” Bodhi wasted no time snapping at a passing waiter. He drained his glass and took two fresh glasses. “She’s beautiful. She’s the vet? Do you have a pet? But she’s actually a demon. If I die, it was her. I want to spread it around.”

[onmyknces]

sabmurphys:

Sabrina grinned victoriously as she gripped the glass a fraction tighter in her hands, clearly proud of her apparent accomplishment in getting his drink without any retaliation. If she were more sober, she assumed that this would probably be a far different scene, probably with more insults and yelling based on prior experience. Perhaps she just wasn’t in the mood to argue or perhaps the alcohol was dampening the part of her that wanted to make everyone miserable right along with her, but either way the mood was far different than what it had been just days prior. “How am I supposed to know that you didn’t manage to slip something in? Christ, and you thought I was the one that couldn’t take a joke…” Still, she was seemingly satisfied with his answer seeing that she punctuated her statement with a long sip from the glass. “Yeah, well my ghost would probably haunt you for the rest of your life, at the very least. I can be pretty fucking persistent if I really want to, you know. You want me to act normal? Weren’t you the one just hoarding appetizers like the Great Famine’s coming for a round two?”

              Her smile made him smile for a second before he remembered she was his enemy. They were slated to be married, but that would be the extent of it. And also she had to take care of Garf -- Bodhi had no other choice. “Because between the two of us, you’d be more likely to have poison given your profession.” He stuffed another appetizer in his mouth and frowned at her. Thankfully, a waiter walked by with another tray of champagne. He plucked a flute from it and turned to look at her. “For saying you don’t like me, you sure do want to spend a lot of time with me. Even after death? The only reason I know you’re not the witch is because she stole a princess and I’m clearly not one.” He chewed and then washed it down with a big gulp of champagne. “I’m hungry! Why aren’t you eating?” 

[onmyknces]

ericmorgcn:

_Spooky _felt like the most appropriate word to describe the masquerade ball that was meant to ring in the marriage season. Maybe it was just the actual use of masks to feign anonymity or the location itself (were mansions ever _not _creepy?), but Eric had the sneaking suspicion that his own growing anxiety over being one of the marked was amplifying everything tenfold. So, the sudden and unexpected offer of food was a welcomed distraction – especially when it wasn’t coming from a waiter.·“Definitely,” he answered without thinking, reaching out to snag the appetizer.·“Seeing how many shrimp puffs you can eat before they cut you off?” Eric asked, mostly kidding before he popped the snack in his mouth.·

It was nice to not be questioned about something. The man in front of him took the food from his hand and he smiled. It didn’t seem like a death thread was going to be quick on his tongue.·“Look, you gotta be quick about these things. I don’t trust this mansion or the owner. Fuck the Order, you know? But damn if the alcohol and apps aren’t good.” He plucked another one from a passing tray and washed it down with big gulps of champagne.“You here with your future husband or wife? Or actively trying to avoid them like me?”

[onmyknces]

sabmurphys:

What had started as one glass of champagne quickly became two, and while Sabrina had never really considered herself to be much of a lush, she was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol she’d been consuming since she’d arrived that evening. Needless to say, the night wasn’t going well. For starters, she was fairly sure that Bodhi was stashing a rosary in preparation to exorcise her at any moment (a sight that she admittedly would have been quite amused to see) and if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d been all too averse to going to any fancy party regardless of who she came with. To put it simply, she was drinking to forget how miserable she was… but it had backfired. 

She’d been stumbling her way through the throngs of people searching for water - or rather, anything that would keep the floor from feeling as if it were swaying beneath her very feet - when another drink was thrust right in front of her. A gift from the gods was what it was, she’d concluded, until her eyes traveled up the arm of whoever had offered it to her and landed directly on none other than her date. Almost immediately, she was laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of it because god, suddenly everything seemed funny when there was alcohol coursing through her veins. It was vaguely reminiscent of her early college days, back when her only concerns were frat parties and beer bongs. Still, she somehow managed to take a deep breath, hoping to keep some sort of composure in front of her dreaded husband-to-be. “Well, since you offered so nicely.” She didn’t detect a slur, though the usual icy edge in her tone had melted ever so slightly with her inebriation as she snatched the flute from his outstretched hand. Blue eyes peered up at him from behind thick lashes, a quizzical expression crossing over her features momentarily with a quirk of her brow as she continued, “You’re not trying to poison me, are you? ‘Cause if you are, I can and will beat your ass into next century.”

               Bodhi was surprised when Sabrina appeared without walking backwards down the stairs in a backbend. He knew deep down that she was possessed by some sort of demon. He swore he saw her eyes change in her office a few days ago. A bright red with black pupils. He shuddered at the memory. Not wanting to stir the pot, he held out his champagne to her. He shoved the food into his mouth as he looked her up and down. Grey was right, she was beautiful. But at what fucking cost? He swore she was drunk or well on his way. He was well versed in spotting someone getting ready to fall into drunk territory. She was being nice... nicer than usual anyway. Which might not seem like a lot, but it put Bodhi at ease. “I was literally drinking from the glass. I know death seems better than marrying you, but I’m not going to spoil the good champagne with poison. For the record, you can’t beat my ass if you’re dead. Can you act normal for one night?” 

[onmyknces]

ravenhartleyx:

“I don’t need anything fancy to enjoy myself.” She muttered and didn’t even bother looking at the woman. She smiled at the bartender when he handed her the drink and took a sip. “Nor did I go to any frat parties. I actually was trying to graduate.” 

          “I’m not saying you do, but why not take advantage? I can’t exactly keep Dom chilling in my fridge at home. But I’m sure as hell going to make Vaughan regret putting it on the floor tonight.” She leaned against the bar and took another sip. “What does that have to do with anything? You can go to parties and graduate. They aren’t mutually exclusive.” She eyed the woman up and down before looking out at the crowd. “You here with your future wife or husband?”