#sunnykies

you might expect this from dorian, or perhaps not, considering he was a gender non-conforming man — but if he were being honest... he had only dressed up for a femme person a few times in his life the way he was now. i mean, compared to whenever he dressed up for men, it just seemed as if the women he chose to pursue usually preferred to be the ones wearing the lingerie which was more than fine with him. women were more than allowed to be sexy and wear whatever they wanted, but dorian had to admit that because he had considerably less experience with dressing up for women than men, he was a bit nervous for this. maybe thinking of himself dressing up for a woman was the wrong thing to do here? dorian was just dressing up for any other person, after all, but an important person to him nonetheless.

yes. it didn't matter what gender they were, he thought, as he dressed in a teal baby-doll dress and panties underneath that barely managed to cover his length (though that little detail really didn't matter considering that dorian hoped they would ultimately be coming off that night). dorian had told nora to meet him at his apartment after she got off work, which he knew wasn't too far away from his home, though that is interestingly not where they met. they ended up meeting at the bar in that same club - the iceberg lounge, if dorian can recall its name right - while she was off. they got to talking then and kind of hit it off, which led to dorian asking if she wanted to quote unquote 'get out of there' to maybe get some food or something. they ended up having a grand ol' time then that entire night and dorian expressed multiple times that he wished it didn't have to end, but he also had to go to work the next day. a few more hangouts passed by that were more like dates and now, he thought that this was the natural next step in their relationship.

plus, if dorian was being honest, he really wanted nora. quite possibly more than he'd ever wanted anyone before. it was when she texted him that she was at the door that he told her it was open over the messages, and that would be when nora would come in only to be greeted by a dimmed, romantic atmosphere with little breadcrumb clues (or a rose petal trail, in this case) leading her to his bedroom. when dorian saw her, dusty springfield's 'the look of love' was softly playing on a turntable in dorian's room and the room was also dim with only candles on every other cabinet being the light in the room. he smiled at nora widely then, with him sitting on the very edge of the bed and both of his hands on the covers, ❝ hi, darling. do you like your surprise? i tend to never know whether something is too much until after the fact, so hopefully it isn't. you know i did this because i really care for you, you know. ❞

Something wasn't adding up. And The Agent of Chaos was gonna get to the bottom of it. Lately when he had been dropping in on his ex wife still wife because of legal reasons. She had been nervous. He doesn't like when she gets nervous unless it's him making her that way.

"Y'wanna tell me why you are being so weird lately?"

taking care of a feral child (tm) @sunnykies

"i don't need it."

she takes it anyway. the young blonde woman allows the cardigan to be slid over her shoulders without much of a fight. after all--- it was cold, and hey;; it might get jeannie off her ass for a minute. jeannie was one of the only people who cared enough to get on her ass still.

“Can I ask you a personal question? How can you afford to shop here?” - from miss harley quinn :D // @sunnykies

"---why don't you just shut the fuck up."

the young woman is interrupting--- talking over. she doesn't want to hear it anymore. doesn't want to hear jeannie lecture her about being safe. doesn't want to hear how she could have killed herself, or how jeannie just cares about her.

she doesn't want to hear it.

Killing is not something Veronica gets enjoyment out of. If they had it their way, they'd never have to do it again ( three times was more than enough ), but the universe seems to like throwing curveballs left and right. It had just been a split second, an instinctive reaction to being grabbed too harshly. They aren't sorry for defending themself; that's just normal. Anyone would've reacted that way and they just used what they had on them.

They don't know what to do. Their head starts spinning with all the potential ways they could go about this, but there's just too many answers and not enough time to think through them all, leaving them paralyzed with indecision but they know they must do something. They look over the dead body. They don't think their fingerprints actually got on anything other than the knife. It'd be too foolish to ditch the knife, even if the cops around here are dumber than bags of rocks.

( Something else, then. Come on, think. ) Or maybe just fall back on the plan that had worked before, making it look self-imposed. They need a piece of handwriting for that to work, anything.

They're about to pocket the knife and wrap their hands in their cardigan to try and look for something to forge when they hear footsteps. Shit. Had somebody been coming this entire time? ( We could always just -- ) They shake their head. Not going there. To make matters worse, they know who it is. Of course it had to be her, didn't it?

@sunnykies fell down the rabbit hole:

“i was there, remember?” - liz

˚｡⋆ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓 ⟡ PRE ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS ⋆｡˚

‧₊˚꒰ঌ  ❝ You say that as if I could ever forget. ❞  the words wrapped around Charlie's throat in a suffocating chokehold. Her memories of that day were fuzzy; exact events blurry from the abstract haze that came with having been a child, but the weight was never lost on her. It was a heavy one in her chest, one she felt even now.

    0 days until the party.

    ❝ I'm sorry for your loss, Lizzy, so sorry. ❞  tears pricked at her eyes just thinking about it, she couldn't even begin to fathom how Elizabeth must've felt about the incident. Apologies felt meaningless though, like a bandage over a stab wound. Sorry wouldn't bring Evan back, nothing would. But it was the least she could say; if the world wouldn't apologize, she would.

    She speaks again, exhaling sharply;     ❝ —I lost my brother too, when I wasn't much younger than you. ❞  she still had the vivid memories of when her relatives stopped speaking his name, how Charlie herself learned to not speak it. So many times would a younger girl turn to her side, expecting to see a boy, and so many times her tears would spill when he wasn't there.

    She would cry, but still would not speak his name.