#checkroom

[makeyoumine69]

My Lovely Detective VII

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Detective!OC

CO-WRITER: @iron-flavored-lipgloss

CONTAINS: NSFW, master/pet dynamics, dirty talk, implied BDSM, pet names, brat taming, humiliation and maybe something else :D

WORDS: 2.2k

A/N: Hello everyone! Please forgive us for the long wait, we have been quite busy lately. Enjoy the new chapter!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

In My Twisted Era

Buying clothes for Andrea had become one of the few and all the more unexpected pleasures in Patrick Bateman's life. With Evelyn it had been absolutely horrible (she had her very own taste), and not even Courtney would have agreed to wear such skimpy, if not downright whorish clothes. But Andrea couldn't really refuse, she just had to show whatever sexy little excuse of an outfit Patrick was currently in love with. And for tonight's special occasion, there was no other woman he would rather have on a leash. 

"I told you, this is no ordinary party. This is the dress code, and you will not bring your prudish sense of style into it."

The woman was wearing a very expensive set of lingerie, which he had deliberately made a little too tight to make her tits look even fuller, showing off every curve in a way that would surely make any other man jealous. The heels were also painfully impractical, probably the highest shoes Andrea had ever owned, and against her will it made her cling even tighter to Patrick's arm, needing stability. 

All he had to do was tug on the sturdy little leash attached to her choker and Andrea would stumble right into his arms or fall to her knees—another idea that drove Bateman a little crazy, so he tried not to think about it right now. Patrick himself, of course, was dressed very differently, showing off his finest tuxedo, but pretending that there was nothing humiliating about Andrea being almost naked under her new big fur coat—that coat she was now forced to take off in the checkroom.

"It's very warm inside. Real candlelight," one of the ladies in charge explained emphatically to Andrea and then winked playfully at Patrick.  Andrea, who in her blushing anger only looked delightfully innocent to these professionals, who had never experienced the perversions of an elite motto party like this. "One more thing—we have to check for any weapons."

That was ridiculous, of course—where would Andrea hide a weapon? Under her elegant Colombina mask?  No, this was one of the few rules tonight to ensure everyone's privacy. But everything else was a part of the game, like the female cloakroom attendant groping Andrea. She squeezed her tits a little and pulled her lace thong down, as if to check if she had a gun shoved up her pussy. 

"Hush darling, let it happen," Bateman whispered in her ear, just loud enough for the other woman to buy their supposed relationship and notice the shiver running through Andrea's body as a pleasant side effect.

Annoyed, Andrea tried not to scoff and spat in the attendant's face as her hands resumed their shameless exploration of her body. "One more move and I'll break your fucking fingers," she hissed as the woman bent down to her neck, her lips almost touching the detective's throat. "Understand?"

Unaware of Andrea's words, Patrick leered as he enjoyed the scene unfolding before him. Oh, how often had he imagined himself having fun with Andrea and another woman. Tonight all his fantasies could come true, he would do anything for it.

The attendant suddenly backed away, almost bumping into Bateman, but he managed to step away at the last moment. Scowling, Andrea adjusted her lingerie, looking aggressive and very angry. 'If only I could rip these clothes off,' the woman thought, looking around to assess the situation. There were a lot of people, a lot of rich, depraved people who were definitely sick and immoral. Patrick's cheeky chuckle caught Andrea's attention again—the woman who had shamelessly groped her a moment ago was now busy inspecting Bateman, and judging by his reaction, the man was enjoying the process.

"Have a nice evening, Mister." The woman murmured before pecking Patrick's cheek and slipping something into his jacket pocket. 

Frowning in disgust, Andrea wanted to use this as a chance to escape, but as she turned to see the exit, another couple walked in. A black haired man was holding a blonde girl on a leash who was crawling on all fours like a dog. This was already too much for Detective Moore, more than too much.

When Patrick had finished with the bitchy cloakroom lady, he grabbed Andrea's wrist and forced her to follow him further into the house. "I... I don't feel well," the brown-haired woman said as they moved through the noisy crowd of people, most of them already naked but still wearing their masks. "Can... Can I use the bathroom?"

'This party is the chance I've been waiting for,' the idea came to her faster than she could move, as she slipped through the groups of rich yuppies and their pocket whores. 'I should escape. Otherwise I won't make it tomorrow.'

"We've barely arrived," Patrick muttered, slightly annoyed, before he seemed to think of something—his mood changed again. "But I guess my poor girl was so nervous, she couldn't help it." He was playing that role again, the caring and generous lover—only the arrogance of his smile betrayed his true nature. "We'll look for a bathroom on the way."

One hand firmly on the leash, the other boldly wrapped around her waist, Andrea couldn't help but follow him deeper into what seemed to be a temple of hedonistic desire. The high, dark walls and even the ceiling were adorned with various framed nude paintings that would have been tasteful under any other circumstances, but here, in this place, they only added to the sinister atmosphere—along with those suspicious noises of unknown origin echoing through the hallways, a seemingly endless number of them branching off to the left and right of the main corridor. 

Bizarre shadows dancing on the walls and the beguiling scent of musk and sandalwood followed Patrick and Andrea, as well as dozens of other couples. Some women balanced on their stilettos like Andrea, others crawled on the floor, it was hard not to step on their fingers.

And finally, a glamorous ballroom awaited them, with chandeliers hanging down, the lights dimmed naturally, and sensual jazz sounds played by a live band. There were several champagne towers and a buffet table so large it could have fed the entire homeless population of New York, yet girls in short maid dresses carried trays of drinks and snacks through the flow of muted conversation. 

There seemed to be too much of everything, but "it's just the entrance hall," Patrick assured Andrea, smiling at the couple next to him, exchanging brief nods with the other man and thus showing respect for each other.

"First time here?"

"It is, for her." 

Patrick squeezed Andrea's shoulder, but his gaze remained on the young woman lounging on the floor, caressing her male companion's leg and looking up at him with large, dilated pupils. 

"You like her?" The broad grin that appeared beneath the stranger's mask suggested that he was not annoyed by the attention his girl was receiving—quite the opposite. 

"Well, I can't lie ... she seems very well-behaved."

'And she's very blonde and busty, too. Although Andrea's tits look even better.'

"Yeah, you're a good little kitty, aren't you, Jessica?"

Patrick watched the woman, apparently Jessica, in utter fascination as she rubbed her cheek on this guy's shoes and told him, "Yes, Master."

It was a very strange mixture of affection and obedience—basically the opposite of Andrea. 

"I assume you didn't come for the food. Although..." They cast an odd glance at another group of men lined up around a girl smeared with cream. 

"Not exactly. Andrea's not quite there yet."

As they left this hall of the gluttonous, Jessica simply followed, but when it came to Andrea, Patrick had to pull hard on her leash first. Any protest died in her throat as Andrea had to gasp for air instead.

"A brat, huh? Charming little hot blood..."

"I don't share her with men." Patrick wasn't even sure how those words had come out so quickly and clearly - Evelyn having an affair had never bothered him. 

'And it's not like I care about Andrea ethier!'

But the thought of this stranger (who was about as tall as he was and looked very fit to boot) fucking Andrea made him feel sick. 

"Oh, not me. But my little Jessica likes to play with girls. So maybe..."

 And of course that sounded much more appealing to Patrick.

Andrea swallowed hard, a shiver running down her spine at the thought of being involved with another woman. There was no way Bateman was considering it, but when he approached the bitch named Jessica and leaned down to stroke her cheek, something inside the detective tightened like a spring.

"Now, now," Patrick crooned as Jessica tried to kiss his hand. "You're a playful one, aren't you?"

The owner just chuckled, completely unbothered by the fact that another man was touching his girl, and it made Andrea almost vomit, but instead of making a scene, she decided to play along and get Bateman's attention back. 

Quickly, the brunette stepped back so that the leash in Patrick's hand tightened, forcing him to look back at his pet. "Hey," Bateman barked in a threatening tone, pulling on the leash to bring Andrea closer until she was level with him. "Behave yourself," he pointed an index finger at her, knitting his perfectly sculpted eyebrows. "Otherwise you'll..."

Patrick froze, the words stuck in his throat like a lump as Andrea wrapped her plump lips around his finger and sucked on it with pure devotion. Another couple seemed hypnotized by the scene as the lewd aura of Bateman and his lovely detective consumed them like a fog.

"And I thought you wanted to play with me first," Andrea purred after releasing Patrick's finger. "We don't need anyone else."

"Is that so?" Bateman murmured back, his pupils dilating by the second as he watched Andrea nestle against his large palm. "Or are you just jealous?"

Patrick nuzzled the detective's neck and cupped her ass possessively, eliciting a soft moan from her lips. Andrea even forgot the couple next to them, the place they were now, she forgot everything. Just one bite was enough to bring down her defenses. That man, dear God, that man was a devil in the flesh. Disappointed and absolutely jealous, Jessica reached out to touch Bateman again, but her master wouldn't let her, tugging at the leash and forcing her to stay still. Andrea couldn't hide her pleasure at seeing this poor little bitch suffer, even though she felt terrible about having to act so damn lewd. 'I must have completely lost my mind.' 

Satisfied and sated, Patrick pulled away from Andrea to turn and wink at Jessica, making sure the detective didn't see it. "It was a pleasure to meet you," Bateman nodded to the stranger and his submissive. "Have a good evening."

With that, Bateman tightened his grip on the leash and made Andrea follow him. It felt like the party was getting even more crowded, female moans, male groans and seductive giggles blending into a wicked cacophony of sounds; Andrea's head was spinning from the strong scent of the aroma candles. 

"Where are we going?" Andrea asked suddenly as they turned another corner and walked down the dimly lit hallway. "Patrick?"

The man didn't answer, speeding up as if they were being chased. But by whom?

The woman could feel her heart pounding so painfully against her chest that it was hard to breathe, but when they reached their destination, Andrea felt weak in her knees. With a smug grin on his handsome face, Bateman opened the door, and the first thing Andrea saw were several large chains attached to the ceiling, holding what looked like a leather seat. Speechless, the woman took an uncertain step before Patrick placed his hand on the small of her back, urging her to get in. Once inside, a soft click of the door echoed through the small room with dark walls and intimate lighting. 

God, what was this place?

"Is it... some kind of torture chamber?" Andrea asked, looking around in complete shock. "Why... Why are we here?"

It took Patrick only a little effort to push Andrea's body into the leather seat, the woman still too stunned by her new surroundings and his quick movements. 

"You know, you could have told me earlier. That you want me all alone..." He leaned down, his left and right hands grasping at the attached chains, trapping Andrea close to him. 

There seemed to be no escape from those eyes—hypnotic and so hungry, a dangerous desire radiating from each of his smooth movements. If just the look could kill. If eyes could devour...

Andrea couldn't help but shiver.

"You're sweating, dear." His thumb began to stroke her forehead, caressing her cheek in a light gesture that would seem so uncharacteristically tender if she didn't know him better. Beneath the surface of this controlled seduction, he is the same beast as always.  "That feeling... you know the one. The one that makes your heart race and your fingers tremble, just like this." His hand now ran down her naked arm, rubbing circles of false comfort over her goosebumps. 

Down to Andrea's wrist, that vulnerable spot where the veins shimmered purple through her skin and her artery pulsed rapidly under the dull pressure of his thumb. She was alive, and that made him feel alive in a way that no words could express. 

"Is it fear or...? Are you so excited for me?"

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and my amazing co-writer @iron-flavored-lipgloss and turn on notifications to know when we update!

[bw666sims4]

WARM HOME | Wooden Modern Villa 50X40

1.103 and up｜2G｜Santa Sigua｜50X40

3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms

open-air dining room

audio-visual room

checkroom

study room

children's room

ping-pong room

-This 50x40 villa is built in San Segunda, combining natural and modern elements, with black, gray and brown as the main colors of the interior design of the duplex. The spacious living room is the centerpiece of the villa, with floor-to-ceiling windows that let in plenty of light. The space is fully utilized with a sense of hierarchy.

CC  |  TRAY  | Thanks to all cc creators ❥

[octuscle]

I am a poor and stressed office worker in a gray building, my boss demands a lot of me, and on top of that sometimes because of this stress I have problems of total sexual impotence. I would like to be a fearless and sexually powerful muscular racing driver, an undisputed super champion on the tracks. with arrogant attitude, a masculine symbol of power and virility

Dude, you're closer to retirement than your college degree. And like any good New Yorker, you don't even have a driver's license. That makes your wish a little original, doesn't it? And I also don't understand why you always turn to support for problems like this. Why don't you take your life into your own hands?

Friday night. Almost 8pm already. Finally off work. All your colleagues have long since left for the weekend. But your sadistic boss has dumped one task after another on you. You hate him, you hate your job … You hate your life. But your life can change. "Driver's license in just one week! Live your dream now!" Damn, has the driving school always been here between the office and the subway station? Maybe that's a sign. You just go in. It doesn't cost anything to ask.

The guy at reception is hot. Tight body. Leather pants. Dazzling smile. Greets you like an old friend, tells you that you're the first customer today and that you'll get a special price if you start your theory lesson today. You feel a little taken by surprise. But it brings you closer to your dream. So you sign up. And just fifteen minutes later, you're learning all about the rules of the road. But your eyes are more focused on your driving instructor's bulge.

As you take your leather jacket and backpack from the checkroom after the lesson, your driving instructor tells you that you've handed in your sheets with 0 faults. So you're almost ready for the theory test. But first you have your first driving lesson tomorrow at 08:00. You can hardly wait. And yet you have to go to bed now. It's been a tough week and now it's almost midnight…

Shit, you misjudged the time on your morning jog. Only an hour to go until your driving lesson starts. No time left to shower or change at the driving school. You get into your new motorcycle suit, grab your helmet and head for the subway. You look a bit funny in full gear… But thank God it's still early on a Saturday morning and there's not much going on yet…

Your teacher thinks you're a natural. Your bike and you form a unit from the very first second. Sure, you've always been interested in engines, you have a feel for the 130 hp that lies dormant in the beast. And you love speed. And you love the bulge in your instructor's pants. Shit, that guy is so hot. But you can't say goodbye to your driving instructor with a French kiss. You try to stay cool and say goodbye with a fist bump. He slaps your ass and tells you to come to theory class a little earlier tonight.

Until then, you still have a bit of time to go to the gym. The leather suit doesn't forgive an ounce of fat. To look anywhere near as hot as your driving instructor in your leather trousers, you need one or two hours of gym a day. In addition to running, in addition to your second passion, taekwondo. When you arrive at the driving school an hour before the start of training, your driving instructor is already waiting for you with a naked upper body and a painful-looking bump. He asks you if you would like to be ridden instead of riding your motorcycle for a change. You grin and reply that you thought he'd never ask.

It's convenient that you wake up on a Sunday morning right next to your driving instructor. Damn, why driving instructor? He's your mate and your coach. No one needs to teach you how to ride a motorcycle. Today you're going to the racetrack again before the big race. Find the ideal line. Exploring the limits of technology. You are a perfectionist. Motorcycle racing and martial arts form the perfect unit for you. In both cases, an opponent is unforgiving of mistakes. And in both cases, you have to be in full control of your body every second.

But you will never make a mistake. You are young, talented and in the shape of your life. Your friend thinks it's time for you to relax. Race to the lake, the loser has to blow the winner. Hehehe, you're already ready for your victory bonus when your friend rolls into the parking lot. He's a very good loser!

[pandorasword]

Could you do where they’re on the James corden show where they do ether the hide and seek and Chaeri hides really well or the crosswalk concert or try not to flinch challenge episode

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

Chaeri's masterlist

Thank you so much for your request! I hope you enjoy this and sorry if it took a while to post this 🫶🏼

Corden: Now to finish the show I thought we’d do something we do here every night after the cameras stop rolling: A game of hide and seek! BTS will hide anywhere they like in the studio. Ashton and I are then going to try and find them. Whoever finds five of the band members first wins. BTS are you ready? Let’s cover our eyes so we can’t see where they are. No peeking! Alright then, three, two, one.. Hide!

*The members of BTS quickly dispersed, looking for good hiding spots throughout the studio*

*While searching for a good hiding spot, Chaeri watched as all the boys gradually chose their own*

*She turned back to the cameraman who was following her, with eyes pointed into the camera she giggled embarrassedly*

Chaeri: Man, I'm taking too long. I just want to find a good one

*She wandered so far that she almost landed at the studios' entrance, but then found the perfect hiding place: The staff checkroom*

*It was not very large, but several dark coats were hanging on hangers and heavy chests were placed inside*

*It was easy for her to walk in, climb into a chest, and slip on a coat to blend in with the rest inside the wardrobe*

*One by one the members were found more or less fairly (Namjoon pointed out to Ashton where Jungkook was hiding)*

*The conductors wandered around the studio looking for the last left member: her*

*But she seemed to have disappeared into thin air*

Corden: All right everyone, let's try this again. Whoever between me, Ashton, or one of the BTS finds Chaeri first will win

*The audience roared and reached out as the boys passed by them, searching for the youngest member of the group*

*The sound of hangers falling against furniture made Taehyung stop right in front of the staff wardrobe*

*With a smirk on his face, he gestured to the camera to be quiet by putting a finger to his lips and then approached the door handle*

*He slowly turned it, trying not to make any noise, and peeked inside. There, among the dark coats, he spotted Chaeri's eyes staring right back at him, a cheeky grin on her face*

Taehyung: Found you!

Chaeri: Shhh, you will have James and Ashton find me.

Taehyung: You were the hardest one to find, they changed the rules and now everyone is looking for you. I think that makes me the winner

*Chaeri giggled and climbed out of the chest, taking off the coat she had used to blend in*

*She looked effortlessly cute, her hair slightly messy from hiding in the cramped space*

Chaeri: Couldn't you pretend you didn't find me?

*Taehyung chuckled and pulled her into a tight embrace to not let her run away*

Taehyung: Of course not

*As they walked back to the stage, the rest of BTS erupted into cheers and applause, excited to have finally found Chaeri*

Corden: That was incredible, BTS! I don't think anyone has ever stumped us like that before. You guys are amazing.

*The audience applauded, and the group took a bow*

Corden: I think we have our two winners tonight!

taglist: @alixnsuperstxr | @ycuvi | @bts-dream

[earlgreytea68]

I’m not a newbie here, but early day fob lore is still sometimes a mystery to me, lol! Love your deep dives, they’re always very articulate, and very well put together, so thank you for doing them. In recent post you mentioned hey chris, and I’ve seen him being referenced before. I sense some deep history and drama in there, lol ) can you enlighten us, fake fans??))

P.s I’m now especially intrigued, as you mentioned him as an ex friend ….)) please, spill the tea ;))))

First, you are definitely not a fake fan. Everybody starts off knowing nothing!! I tell this to my students on the first day of class, so I will say it to you: If we all knew everything right away, what would we even do with life????? So! Not a fake fan! Normalize being a beginner sometimes! Learning is fun!

Second, thank you for the kind words on the way-too-many paragraphs I spend thinking about all of this lol

Third! This is what I have gleaned about the Hey Chris situation. First, I read the unauthorized Fall Out Boy biography. I did this mostly so you did not have to, because it's not that good. But Chris gets quoted a lot wrt the early Fall Out Boy years. This was notable to me, because the reason those early years get so much focus is I think because he could actually find sources, whereas nobody from Fall Out Boy or their inner circle talked to this guy. So that just says to me right away that Chris isn't really part of the inner circle anymore. Pete does sometimes reblog his stuff on Instagram and it feels polite and cordial and not at all like Pete treats his friends. And that's striking because, as I said, Pete is extremely loyal and keeps many friends forever and he and Chris were very close and are notably not anymore and that is in and of itself unusual.

Anyway, In The Beginning, so to speak, Chris was close friends with Pete and the rest of the band, this is how he got immortalized in "Grenade Jumper" in the first place (I assume you know the apocryphal story but in case you don't, I heard it told that Pete told Patrick they should write a song "for the fans," and Patrick was like, "What fans? Chris is our only fan," and so he wrote a song for Chris lol).

The book spends a lot of time on Pete Wentz pre-Patrick, and especially on Pete's relationship with Chris pre-Patrick, which is also another interesting and telling detail, that Chris seems mainly like a relationship that didn't really last past Pete's discovery of Patrick. Although the way it went down between Pete and Chris also doesn't seem to have anything to do with Patrick, so I don't mean to cast any aspersions on Patrick's role in the whole debacle.

ANYWAY, Chris is quoted in the book as saying that he hated Pete before he met him and he was annoyed because Pete always wore his jeans too tight, which is...such an observation to make about why you hate someone. (I literally borrowed the inappropriateness of this observation for Patrick in one of the Halloween fics I've written lol, it just has always struck me as a remarkable reason to hate someone.)

Chris doesn't seem like he was especially the best influence on Pete (I think in the biography he says that they bonded over peeing on people's coats in a coat checkroom which is...yeah, Idk, BOYS) and it's probably for the best that Pete came eventually to orbit more Patrick's way. But for a little while Pete and Chris were tight and close in this manner that is SO FILLED with queer subtext, like, it is INCREDIBLE the way Chris talks about Pete and everything that went down between them.

NONE of that was in the FOB biography (I wrote up the biography here), so I Googled all of this and pieced it together, and Idk if I can find sources now, but I'll link as many as I can. Anyway, there was this whole thing in 2006 where something-something-maybe with Pete and Chris's girlfriend. Chris's "open letter" says at the beginning that it's about Pete having told Chris's ex-girlfriend that Chris was cheating on her, which was a lie. That's what the letter professes to be about. But the letter is way, way, way more than that and keeps referencing having been sold out -- which isn't how I would characterize having my ex lied to about me, it's a weird phrasing for that -- and then there's some other random person involved who Chris is cagey about but who is also angry with Pete for undisclosed reasons.

The point is to say that it seems like something went down between Pete and Chris's ex-girlfriend but it also seems like there is A LOT more going on. The letter is truly vicious in that way that you can be only when you know someone really well, and know exactly what their deepest fears and vulnerabilities are, and exactly how you can hurt them. He goes after Pete’s fans, he accuses him of being fake and contrived and performative, he mocks him for struggling with fame – it’s an extremely calculated attack for exactly what Pete Wentz worries about most, exactly the right way to get at him.

And he succeeds. Pete does respond, mostly entirely to talk to the fans. In what, of course, can seem like another really calculated PR move on his part. But then, that’s the story of Pete Wentz’s life. He’s in a catch-22, because he’s smart and strategic and it’s the same attack that, honestly, Patrick is still defending him from in the Folie era years later: that Pete’s a better guy than he can look from the outside (this interview is a killer Patrick interview about Pete, if you’ve never read it, just do a search for the word “Pete” and read what he says). (He makes similar statements after the hiatus, too. I couldn’t find the interview but there’s one after SRAR is announced where there’s, like, a signed Ghostbusters VHS or something in Patrick’s house and the interviewer comments on it and Patrick’s like, “Yeah, that was a birthday gift from Pete. Because that’s just the kind of awful guy he is, you know, sends thoughtful birthday gifts,” or something, and it’s clear he’s just, always still out here defending Pete Wentz. Patrick is always keenly aware what people say about Pete and always trying to protect him from that.) As for whatever is happening personally, Pete tells Chris to call him.

A bunch of other incredibly dramatic stuff happens. Only a few days after this whole exchange, the dick pics get leaked. I have heard it said that Chris was behind the dick-pic leak, possibly because Pete had sent the pictures to Chris's ex-girlfriend. That aspect of the rumor about them being sent to Chris's girlfriend isn't in that source post I just linked and I can't quite remember where I heard that (although I think it was from someone who was in the fandom around that time tbh).

Whether or not Chris was behind the dick pics, the language that Chris keeps flinging around about him and Pete is extremely loaded. In the original letter, Chris brings up the fact that he's in "Grenade Jumper" and says "guess whos fucking name you're saying each and every night?” which is a weirdly sexual way to put that, Idk, he's talking about the song but still. And then he signs off “oh, and next time you decide to write another song about me, do it right you fucking coward,” which, I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean, actually, but it also sounds really intense. Whatever their relationship was, it just sounds really intense. After Pete’s response, who knows whether Chris called him or not but Chris’s next public response calls Pete his "heterolifemate" and then says "no one knows how to break a heart like he does" (which Pete kind of borrows this phrasing in "never seen a heart I couldn't break"). IT'S ALL SO MUCH and Chris really does seem really angrily heartbroken over whatever was going down. AND THEN HE POSTS PHOTOS WITH MIKEY WAY TO MAKE PETE JEALOUS????? (Everything about this is so straight, am I right?_ AND ALSO THE PHOTOS WORK AND PETE GETS INFURIATED AND FREAKS OUT IN HIS AIM AWAY MESSAGE BECAUSE PETE WENTZ IS MY FAVORITE EVER, NO IRONY hahaha I love him for that.

ANYWAY, this is all to say, Pete and Chris are, as I noted above, now on at least cordial terms, and maybe even closer than that, who knows, I only know public stuff, they might be secret besties. But in general Chris is really the only friend of Pete’s who had a really public falling-out with like this and the whole thing is extremely fraught in AN ENTIRELY HETEROSEXUAL WAY, totally. (Chris is apparently still friendly with Mikey Way, I’ve seen that posted lots of places. I feel like my favorite part about this story is how much Mikey Way gets embroiled in Pete Wentz’s drama and I think he remains totally oblivious the whole time hahaha.)



[rhapsodiq]

from: SIWOO, the fool to: PAKORN, the iron fist — ( @deif1ed )

as siwoo enters the old world casino, he cannot help but think that this is probably not one of his brightest ideas. he doesn't belong in places like this, nor has he been to them very much, but curiosity rises in his chest at the idea of the mysterious man he met a couple of weeks ago, and that convinces him to stay. plus, he has a tupperware filled with pastries in his bag, the nicer-looking ones that he handpicked, which would be such a shame to waste, considering they are still lukewarm. as he enters the ridiculously tall building, he cannot help but wonder how the hell is he even going to find pakorn in here? finding a needle in a haystack would be easier than this — there are over three hundred floors, and the reception itself is so insanely crowded he keeps getting annoyed stares for standing in one place for too long. after yet another annoyed stare, he moves forward with a deep breath and — to his luck ( and much to his confusion ), when he utters pakorn's name... he's let inside? somehow, the receptionist also knows exactly where pakorn is. before siwoo can contemplate on the implications of this whole ordeal, he is ushered further into the building — though they ask him to leave his bag and his coat at the checkroom due to security reasons. after a ridiculously fast elevator ride ( if he could, he'd ask the schematics ), the operator of the elevator gestures forward for him to move. siwoo does out of obligation, but the flashy lights blind his eyes, the noise of the machines making his movements more urgent as he looks around, trying to spot the other. and much to his surprise and joy — he does, sitting at one of the poker tables in the middle. "pakorn! hey —" siwoo lets out with glee, slipping into the chair next to him, mesmerized by the chips and the speed at which the other plays.

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

do you think that Clemente had somehow helped in making Falcone the way he is — or just make him want to be a don

yes yes yes yes i think he did at some point

«had somehow helped in making Falcone the way he is» <- i think Carlo was always Machiavellian and a hypocrite, but Alberto's cruelty and greed may have actually made him a bit worse (haha bad influence) + you see, i think Carlo is very plastic and Alberto is rough, ready to headfirst into a wall

«or just make him want to be a don» <- it's hard for me to say whether Carlo really wanted to become a don by looking at Clemente. bc i think Carlo himself has a mature idea of ruling (not just in terms of “i want power and money” but in many ways “i can do better than Moretti”) It's also impossible to say when they first met - before Clemente became a don or after (in my hcs they first met in 1929, with Clemente heading his own crime family and Carlo becoming Moretti's capo, but lately i've been thinking about changing that) anyway, i think seeing a young, active (and rather violent?), ambitious don among the old school was important for Carlo. And they don't have such a big age difference — only 7 years. this is probably why it was much easier for Carlo to associate himself with Clemente and see him as a role model (in terms of money and power). from what i understand, Clemente emphasized Sicilian roots and collaboration with Italians, just like the old school. but i still think he stood out from Moretti and Vinci (in Carlo's eyes - for the better??). Carlo certainly admired him more than he didn't (to me)

^ some old sketch w them lmao

periodically i think about how Clemente during the Vinci-Moretti war was neutrally watching it all from the shadows, waiting for the outcome. ofc, the most profitable thing for him would have been the destruction of one of the families — there would be less competition (although he did take over some of both families's territory after the war), but i think he was happy to see Carlo as the new don? Carlo's not much better than Alberto. in my eyes Clemente would more readily give Carlo, as a new don, a warm welcome than Vinci would (Vinci knows & disapproves Carlo more?)

and that scene from the dlc. their greeting seems like common courtesy, but i want to believe that they had a warm relationship with each other. although i think they were both holding a gun mentally, ready to become each other's enemies. maybe there was less of that in the past?

and Alberto and Carlo remind me of this:

«However, Al's true mentor - and immediate superior in Fox's absence - was Frankie Yale. The age difference between him and Ale was only six years.

<…> Frankie then took orders for murders, his fee was up to ten thousand dollars, but it was impossible to prove. A year later, another fight led him to prison for a year. In 1916 he was charged with robbery and theft, but again could not prove anything.

Frankie Yale was very different from John Torrio. Instead of strict business suits, he wore bright jackets, expensive jewelry and felt fedora hats. Al liked that style. Frankie didn't try to settle things with peace, because it was much quicker to settle things with a fist or a gun. He was capable of good deeds, such as helping fellow Italians by giving the poorest food, coal, or money. Once he made restitution to a restaurant owner who had been robbed; when a fishmonger lost his cart, he gave him $200 and advised him, “Buy yourself a horse, you're old to walk.” But in anger, he was terrible: once he beated up his younger brother Angelo, who angered him something that he went to the hospital. And when two extortionists picked on a checkroom attendant from the restaurant next door, Frankie beat them to a pulp.»

ps. random but it's still hard for me to figure out if Carlo had a negative attitude towards Clemente starting to fuck over potential soldiers for money by making them pay to enter the family

[tia-amorosa]

🌴Lucky Palms🌴

Marisol - Saturday Night Fever (Part 2)

Today the continuation of yesterday, when Oscar was found unconscious on the floor.

"Vivienne…". Clark quickly went to her "Did he take anything, Clark?"/ "He had a bottle of black tequila in his hand earlier…"/ "And why didn't you stop him?"/ "I did, he put it back on the table and then took care of the stereo. Maybe he took something else later…"/ "My God, Clark, what else has to happen? He knows he can't drink any more alcohol… Now come on, Oscar"…

Clark leaned down to Oscar and slapped his cheeks left and right a few times while calling his name. After a few seconds, he regained consciousness. "Welcome back…". Oscar was still a bit dazed. "Man, what…"/ "I told you to cut that shit out!".

After Oscar was able to stand upright again, Vivienne slapped him in the face. "Hey, what was that for?". She stood in front of him with tears in her eyes and spoke loudly. "you know exactly what for, Oscar, and actually I should slap Clark too!"/ "hey, I…"/ "It's my fault, okay? Man, I'm just scared…". Vivienne hugged her fiancé and spoke more quietly again. "I know that, but it's unnecessary. Now let's go home first"/ "yes, go home, Ozzy, I can manage the rest on my own"/ "o.k…. I'm sorry".

Marisol was still standing next to him and was a little irritated. "What was that, Clark? He didn't give me the impression that he'd had too much to drink, so what could have knocked him out so quickly?"/ "He just didn't eat enough… Do you still want to dance?". Marisol found Clark's behavior a little strange. He turned around and raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Yes, okay, let's dance a little".

When Clark and Marisol came down the stairs and headed towards the dance floor… "I don't believe this…". Donnovan was standing there with a woman and the two of them seemed to be flirting with each other. "Now you know what he spends his time doing…"/ "DONNOVAN?!". Marisol's shouting even drowned out the music.

Marisol walked to him with quick steps and almost tripped as she stepped onto the raised dance floor. Donnovan was shocked and surprised and tried to talk his way out of it. "Marisol, you here, I… Hey, that was nothing…"/ "Don't give me that shit, Don, okay? I'm sick of it! You haven't contacted me for days when I write to you or try to call you… So you're that serious about me, are you?".

"hey, calm down now, okay? Nothing happened…"/ "No, you were just flirting, again, and it's never going to end! Don, I can't do this anymore…"/ "What… What does that mean now?"

"You know exactly what that means, Don! Nothing will happen with us, nothing will change…". It took Don a few seconds to assess the situation for himself. And then he showed his true colors. "You know what, do what you want then, you're boring anyway, you couldn't even control yourself". Of course Clark understood what he meant. "You'd better go now, Don…".

Marisol had had enough, not only because he had lied again, but also because he had never shouted at her like that before. It hit her a little and she ran towards the checkroom… "Didn't you hear me?". Don looked angrily at Clark. "What do you want, you little prick? You can't do anything except sing a few off-key notes". That only made Clark angrier. "Get out now, before I lose my patience for good!"

It wasn't just Don who was angry, Clark also gave vent to his displeasure. But no one wanted to stoop to that level and start a fight. So Don walked past him and just bumped him on the shoulder. "Just fuck off, will you? And don't come near her again," Clark shouted after him. Then he had to calm himself down.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

End of this Part

@cozygirlsimmer🙂

[julieverne]

It was in Paris they met.

Susie was studying art, and Maura was following her mother.

It was in a gallery, and they were both a little awkward and shy, Maura's french impeccable, Susie's slower and with an American accent. They met at the Benoïr, both admiring it. And then, each other.

{Good evening,} Maura said.

{What a lovely exhibition,} Susie said, looking around. Wondering what someone who looked like Maura was doing talking to someone like her - Susie was student-dressed-up - a nice dress and light makeup, but Maura was in an elegant gown, her hair swept away from her face and neck. Exquisite jewelry adorned her ears and throat and fingers; almost as gorgeous as the woman herself.

{I've always found him compelling,} Maura mused, looking back at the painting. Susie turned back to it, blushing at being caught staring. The painting was magnificent, but it paled in comparison to the beauty next to her. It was three women in the woods, tastefully naked and frolicking. Susie blushed again.

{I - uh - I,} Susie paused, trying to think of the words in French. "The brushwork," Susie said finally, in English, hoping Maura spoke it. A lot people in Europe did, or understood enough that Susie was able to get by. She felt stupid. She knew the words, but Maura's presence had her keyed up for some reason.

"Oh, you're American?" Maura asked. Susie nodded, hearing an American accent in Maura's voice when she changed to English. West coast, probably. Not New York. European parent, probably.

"Studying here," Susie said, by way of explanation. "Art," she added.

"Have I upset you?" Maura asked. "You look flushed, and you're avoiding eye contact, which is, I'm told, quite important in social situations."

Susie blushed and turned back to the painting again. "I'm just... feeling a lot of things right now."

"Art does that," Maura mused, also turning back to the painting. She smiled at Susie when Constance dragged her off to meet someone, and Susie's heart sank.

Susie was taking her coat from the checkroom when Maura came in to get hers.

"Would you like a coffee?" {Thank you.}

"I would," Susie said, putting her coat on. She helped Maura with hers because how could she not?

"The café isn't far," Maura said, and Susie froze, wondering. Wondering. Would they simply discuss art, or would this gorgeous woman make a move on her? Did Susie want Maura to make a move on her? She certainly was feeling a lot of things today. "Have I made you nervous again?" Maura asked, looking anxious. Susie shook her head.

---

The café was small and quaint. Away from the gallery Maura seemed smaller somehow. Less intimidating, although no less gorgeous. Susie found Maura warm and pleasant, although they only discussed art and travel. Susie had experimented a little at college, but this somehow seemed more serious than an experiment. When she stood to leave, Maura retrieved Susie's coat and helped her put it on.

{I've been lonely. Thank you,} Maura said, kissing Susie on both cheeks. They hadn't exchanged information, so Susie felt bold enough to move back in and plant a third kiss on Maura's soft, delicate lips.

{Goodbye,} Susie said, blushing and turning away into the closed door, opening it and slipping away into the night.

---

It was in Paris they met, so it was awkward when, fifteen years later Susie applied for a role in the BPD criminal lab, finally coming home from a long series of jobs all over the states. Maura was supremely professional, the awkwardness of her speech and manner having faded a little.

"I look forward to working with you," Maura said as she offered Susie the job. Susie had never forgotten how Maura's mouth had felt, even after all these years, and she wished now that she'd been braver. She couldn't kiss her boss, and she couldn't turn this job down. "Welcome," Maura said, and she pressed a small kiss to Susie's cheek, and then the other. The third never came, but Susie hoped one day it might.

[ainews]

In the bustling city streets of the 1450s, swallows were a common sight overhead. These small, sleek birds were known for their graceful aerial maneuvers and their distinctive forked tail. But what many people didn't realize was that these birds had a secret – they were overconfident when it came to using checkrooms.

During this time period, checkrooms were a popular way for merchants and travelers to store their belongings while they went about their daily business. These temporary storage facilities were often found in inns, taverns, and markets, and were used to keep valuable items safe from thieves and the elements.

Swallows, with their speedy flight and expert navigation skills, were drawn to these checkrooms as the perfect resting spot. They would swoop in, confident that they could find their way out just as easily. However, their overconfidence often led to disaster.

One of the main reasons swallows were overconfident in checkrooms was their natural ability to navigate using the sun and stars. But in the dimly lit, crowded spaces of a checkroom, these celestial cues were not as prominent. Swallows often became disoriented and flew into walls or objects, injuring themselves.

In addition, swallows were also known for their uncanny ability to find their way back to their nests, even after long migrations. This skill, however, did not translate well to the enclosed and maze-like layout of a checkroom. Many swallows would fly in circles, unable to find their way out.

The consequences were not only dangerous for the swallows themselves, but also for the humans using the checkroom. Swallows would often knock over or damage stored items in their frantic attempts to escape, causing chaos and inconvenience for merchants and travelers.

Despite these challenges, swallows continued to be drawn to checkrooms, unable to resist the lure of a safe and sheltered space. Their overconfidence, while understandable, often led to their downfall.

As time went on, changes in construction and lighting techniques made checkrooms less attractive to swallows. And with the advent of paper money and other portable forms of currency, the need for checkrooms decreased, making it easier for swallows to find alternative roosting spots.

Today, while swallows may still occasionally be seen in and around checkrooms, their overconfidence has diminished. They have learned to adapt and use their navigation skills more cautiously, recognizing the limitations of these man-made structures. But the lesson of the overconfident swallows in the 1450s remains a cautionary tale – even the most skilled and seemingly invincible creatures can be brought down by their own overconfidence.

[aiximmo]

Set in a peaceful, agricultural area, this property offers a total of approx. 571 m², comprising 2 separate dwellings on the ground floor: East side: an adjoining house on the west side, approx. 186 m², comprising on the first floor: entrance hall, living/dining room with fireplace, kitchen, 2 bedrooms, bathroom, laundry room and separate toilet. 1st floor: a mezzanine area leading to a 45 m² master bedroom with study, dressing room and shower room with toilet. West side: an adjoining house on the east side, approx. 105 m², comprising an entrance hall, a living/dining room with fireplace, an open-plan fitted kitchen, a storeroom, a bedroom, a shower room, an office, a laundry room and an independent toilet. Attic with high ceilings of approx. 110 m², most of which is on concrete slab. Garden level: a warehouse of approx. 285 m² (ceiling height approx. 4 m) with offices, meeting room and checkroom with shower/wc. Set in grounds of approx. 7,331 m² with terraces, small stone mazet https://is.gd/AXflwO

[bw666sims4]

BLACK MARBLE 40X30

Available for 1.104 and up｜2G｜Sun Valley｜40X30

DLC: High School Years Dogs and Cats Playing Together spa Laundry Day

3 bedrooms, 2 baths,

dining room,

living room,

checkroom,

piano room,

children's room.

-This 40X30 modern luxury black and gold residence, a lot of fluorescent strips and mirrors, a combination of assembly, the use of some wooden fish campfire with. Hope you like it :)

CC : HERE

TRAY : HERE

CC Creators

[byneddiedingo]

Emil Jannings in The Last Laugh (F.W. Murnau, 1924)

 Cast: Emil Jannings, Maly Delschaft, Max Hiller, Emilie Kurz, Hans Unterkircher, George John. Screenplay: Carl Mayer. Cinematography: Karl Freund. Production design: Edgar G. Ulmer. Film editing: Elfi Böttrich. 

F.W. Murnau's landmark film The Last Laugh tells a simple story: An elderly, preening doorman (Emil Jannings) at a luxury hotel struggles to unload a large trunk one rainy evening, and the hotel manager (Hans Unterkircher) takes notice. The doorman goes home to his apartment building where he's greeted with the usual deference accorded to his regal bearing and his brass-buttoned uniform. But when he returns to work the next day he finds a new doorman wearing a copy of the uniform. The hotel manager tells him that he's been replaced, and to turn in the uniform and report to his new job: lavatory attendant. Appalled and crushed, he swipes his old uniform and goes home that night wearing it as if nothing has happened. His niece (Maly Delschaft) is being married. and the ex-doorman celebrates well into the night. Still tipsy the next day, he goes back to the hotel and his new job, stashing the uniform in a checkroom at the railroad station. He bumbles through his duties, but when he returns home he's mocked by his neighbors, who have discovered his fall from grace. The next day he's even more disenchanted with his new job, and incurs the anger of a patron who reports him to the hotel manager, who reprimands him. That night he stays in the washroom, where he's found by the night watchman (Georg John), who helps him retrieve the old uniform and return it to storage. Exhausted, he falls asleep in his chair, and the night watchman tenderly covers him with his coat. And that's where the one and only intertitle occurs: It proclaims that this is where the story would most likely end in reality, with the lavatory attendant living out the rest of his days with "little to look forward to but death." But instead, "The author took pity on him ... and provided quite an improbable epilogue." In short, the protagonist inherits a fortune and invites the night watchman to join him as they're wined and dined by the hotel. It's an audacious ending to a remarkably innovative film. The innovations have received most of the attention, especially Karl Freund's camerawork, which involved far more movement than was usual for the day, with Freund sometimes mounting the camera on a wheelchair or strapping it to his body and riding a bicycle through the sets. The doorman's drunkenness is simulated with a subjective camera, double-exposures, and focus changes. The absence of intertitles is also striking, with no loss of narrative coherence and only a little uncertainty about who some of the characters are: I wasn't sure about the identity of the bride until I saw her listed as his niece in the credits on IMDb. But it's the provision of an alternate ending that strikes me as most audacious. The English title, The Last Laugh, seems to derive from this "improbable epilogue." (The German title,  Der letzte Mann, means "the last man.") Does the last laugh really belong to Murnau and scenarist Carl Mayer, mocking the audience's sentimentality in wanting an unearned happy ending? 

[coolskeleton3000]

Nooo I forgot my earbuds in my jacket :(

And I don't want to go to the checkroom to take my jacket to take my earbuds :(

No earbuds for me today

[noeblack99]

The Hill & Larida - This decoration was situated on the biggest checkroom of the nightclub. It was spectacular.

[marclamhofer]