؟ (!but only if you're still doing it)
"Hm mmm mmm... Perfection: Thy name is 'Caiti's booty.'"
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؟ (!but only if you're still doing it)
"Hm mmm mmm... Perfection: Thy name is 'Caiti's booty.'"
"Nell, dear, we've created a monster. At this rate we'll have to put it to a vote as to who is the cutest in the house." Caiti rubs her chin. "Or a game of rock, paper, scissors. Whichever comes first."
“Oh…” She hefted herself up on the couch to admire the chaos before settling back down again. She flashed Caiti a good-natured but mischievous smile.
“I don’t see anything particularly wrong here. But if push comes to shove, we can always find a golden apple. That way, either a peaceful decision will be made or we’ll all have a nice ten year war…”
@asktheghosthost I was wondering, "does this mean I should draw modern day Caiti, or Caiti in the 1880s?" And I went with Victorian Caiti, because obviously that's more fun and I do what I want. Totally worth it.
@inkandfeatherdusters , Corruptible Mortal State AU...
Reginald Gracey dropped a stack of paper’s into his son’s hands, sighing as he did so.
“Here is a task even you can’t possibly fail, Dorian... Interview these applicants for our firm’s new accountant.”
Dorian stared down at the pile, his mouth dry with apprehension. “Are you sure you want me to do this? Maybe Uncle Orten would be better suited. He’s a people person! Or-or that new scrivener... what’s-his-name, Bartleby?”
“Bartleby says he would prefer not to,” Reginald said, rolling his eyes. Then his face twisted into a scowl. “And Orten is busy trying to fix the mess you created with that last bungled case. Screen these applicants, pick the best, or--my son or not--you’re fired! Nepotism will only get you so far in the world, at least as far as I and the name of Gracey are concerned.”
After a few minutes of tidying up the spare office, Dorian settled into his chair, and checked the clock. It was five past ten. Someone was likely to have arrived by now.
He leaned over, trying to peer out into the hall. “Um, first applicant... Please!”
The Perfect Moment
@inkandfeatherdusters
The paper crinkled, and the crackling noise was close to jarring in the otherwise quiet room.
Nell laid there, lounging across his perfectly placed piles; the self-same piles that he had hoofed and hollered at her for lounging across in the first place.
By all rights, whatever that had encompassed Victor’s attention must have distracted him to the point where he no longer knew she was there. To be fair, though, she made no noise, and he couldn’t possibly see her anymore as she was directly behind him, staring at the back of his cushy looking seat.
Out of sight, out of mind.
The idea that he had forgotten about her was both a blessing and a curse. For although he was no longer berating her for her careless treatment of his fabulous papers full of who-knows-what written on them, he was also ignoring her.
Her hands clenched tighter around the yard stick that she had been using earlier as a convenient way to beat out the dust from the curtains, and a wicked smirk overcame her face.
It was still there.
The hole.
The hole that she had painstakingly chiseled into the back of his chair yesterday morning, small enough for it to apparently escape his notice but wide enough...
...for a yard stick.
She lifted it up level and wiggled it through, slowly and surely, feeling around from when it finally made it all the way. Her hand stayed before it touched him; she wanted to have the ultimate effect.
After all, she had created that hole for this express purpose, and wanted to savor every second.
So, with a deep breath, and still that wicked grin, she jammed the stick right through the hole, knowing full well it was going to stick him
Right. In. His. Ass.
The person they love, because I need to see Beau turned into the curvy cutie that is Caiti.
@inkandfeatherdusters As the magic, sparkling dust cleared, Beau coughed and hacked. “Ach! I think some of it got into my mouth!” He squeaked and slapped his palms over his lips. That had most definitely been his wife’s Scottish brogue spilling from his tongue.
Slowly, he pulled his palms away and tried to assess the situation. He sounded like Caiti. He’d lost several inches of height. His vision now had full depth perception, which was startling after having only one functioning eye for decades. Granted, this boost of vision was only possible with a thick set of lenses, which sat on his short nose.
He risked a glance downward at his body. Bosoms… Those were new. Well, maybe not for Caiti. After a quick look from side to side to make sure no one was watching, he gave one a poke. He didn’t really know what he’d been expecting in doing that, but he felt it had to be done.
The chest was followed by a much shorter waist than he was used to, and then far wider hips. He knew below that would be even more shocking finds, so he stopped his exploration to think on his predicament.
Caiti was a witch. Maybe he could magic his way out of this. He had nothing but the utmost respect for magic users, and he’d always been in, (slightly jealous), awe of her talent. A quick search of his belt loops failed to produce her,(most likely necessary), wand, though, and he was left with the realization that he would have to ask for help.
Bells ringing or something
@inkandfeatherdusters @asktheghosthost
“With all due respect, Master Gracey, sir.”
She said with as straight a face as she could, but that was an effort in shameless futility. The giggling just wouldn’t stop falling out of her mouth.
“And don’t get angry now! It wasn’t my fault.”
The snickering didn’t sway even as she tried a look of angelic purity.
“But...aha...
..you see..heehe..*cough*
....Victor and I have to get married now. He dirtied my innocence.”
Dear Dorian. Is it true that you keep a harem of handsome men on the side?
O.O … <.< … >.> … Not anymore. Heh, I tease. I’ve actually settled down, as it were, with the mansion’s accountant, Mr. Victor O'Hagan. We’ve been inseparable for a couple of years now. Feel free to pester him @inkandfeatherdusters