#dessert for constance

[roseillith]

DESSERT FOR CONSTANCE (1981) dir. SARAH MALDOROR

[moonbeam-dragon]

RTC as things my friends and I have said part 1

Ocean: When I die, I want to be buried with an apple seed so I can provide for my descendants forever.

Noel: I want to be buried with an almond so people can eat my nuts forever.

+++

Penny, to Ocean: I'm sorry! I was trying to break your shin, not trip you.

+++

Mischa: I aspire to be a drunk racoon someday.

+++

Noel: *choking on water*

Mischa: Sorry, I just made Noel choke.

Ricky: There's a lot of ways you could make Noel choke.

Everyone:

Ocean: I need a two-minute break from you guys real quick. I'll be right back.

+++

Constance: I love sluts.

Ricky: Are you talking about a dessert or a kind of person?

Ocean: A dessert.

Constance, smirking: I love sluts.

+++

Mischa: Does it count as cannibalism if you eat yourself?

Noel: What?

Mischa: Are you a cannibal if you eat yourself

Noel: Where the fuck is this coming from?

Mischa: Like I've eaten my own skin before. How much of a person do you have to eat to be a cannibal?

Noel: Well you'd have to kill *and* eat someone.

Mischa: But what if you had someone kill and cook someone for you? I don't think that's how it works.

Noel: Good fucking God, Mischa.

Mischa: What if you didn't kill them but still cooked them? You know?

[theolivetree123]

More About My TWST OCs!

"This world is full of mysteries. Take my hand, and let's explore it together!"

Basic Info

Name: Constance Sanderson

Age: 17

Height: 172cm

Birthday: October 31st

Dominant Hand: Right

Dorm: Diasomnia

Grade: Freshman (1st Year)

Favorite Food: Macarons

Best Subject: Potiontology

Club: Equestrian Club

Hobbies: Dancing

Homeland: Briar Valley

Twisted from: Winifred Sanderson (Hocus Pocus)

Signature Spell:

Deadly Dance!

Constance, Silas and Victor all share a signature spell. When they all sing together, they can make any one who hears them submit to their will.

Random Fact!

“Sanderson” isn’t Constance, Silas or Victor’s last name. They just use it to make them seem important.

“Don’t be afraid. The darkness may seem scary, but it becomes rather comforting. Here. Take my hand, I’ll guide you through the dark.”

Basic Info

Name: Silas Sanderson

Age: 18

Height: 181cm

Birthday: July 16th

Dominant Hand: Left/Right

Dorm: Scarabia

Grade: Freshman (1st Year)

Favorite Food: Chocolate Cake (or just any chocolate dessert)

Best Subject: Conjuration

Club: Pop Music Club

Hobbies: Botany

Homeland: Briar Valley

Twisted from: Mary Sanderson (Hocus Pocus)

Random Fact!

Silas has a massive crush on Jamil. ( I may be cringe, but I’m free)

“Aw, don’t cry dear! Here, let me soothe you with a song. Would that make you feel better?”

Basic Info

Name: Victor Sanderson

Age: 17

Height: 174cm

Birthday: September 30th

Dominant Hand: Right

Dorm: Pomefiore

Grade: Freshman (1st Year)

Favorite Food: Saltwater Taffy

Best Subject: Practical Magic

Club: Film Studies

Hobbies: Clothing design

Homeland: Briar Valley

Twisted from: Sarah Sanderson (Hocus Pocus)

Random Fact!

Victor is a brunette, but his birth-mom wanted him to be blonde, so he got his hair bleached. Now, he hates his original hair color.

Written: “Would you like to go on a walk with me? The sun is shining so brightly today. It’s the perfect day for a leisurely stroll.”

Basic Info

Name: Elias Miel

Age: 16

Height: 156cm

Birthday: December 20th

Dominant Hand: Left

Dorm: Heartslabyul

Grade: Freshman (1st Year)

Favorite Food: Honey (or anything with honey in it)

Best Subject: Animal Languages

Club: Board Game Club

Hobbies: Baking

Homeland: Queendom of Roses

Twisted from: Heffalumps and Woozles (Winnie the Pooh)

Signature Spell:

Your Sleepy Place…

Gives Elias the ability to manipulate what happens in someone’s dream.

Random Fact!

Elias doesn’t like to talk, so he carries around a notepad everywhere.

[mvshortcut]

#Curtain pretending to be a loving person would be the funniest part#I love the idea that at one point everyone catches on and they pretend no to just to see how far he’ll can go (via @nobodysdaydreams) [team meeting in Mr. Benedict's study]

Rhonda: okay so um. "Mr. Benedict" is clearly just Mr. Curtain attempting to poorly comb his hair right. like we agree on this

Everyone: yea Rhonda: right. should we um. stuff a burlap sack over his head and turn him in or something

Milligan: great plan for later but consider! what if we made him sit through family dinner first

Curtain's plan of pretending to be Mr. Benedict has the equal and opposite energy of Mr. Benedict sneaking into the building with a red wig

[cheerleaderman]

[SR] Yuya Florence, Astrid Primrose and Flori Orielle- Halloween town

Fan event by- @theolivetree123

Yuya: “ This place gives off a spooky vibe kinda like Ramshackle”

Astrid: I didn’t know Briar Valley had a town like this

Flori: Halloween town, Their Mayor seems very excited that we all came here

Few lines under cut - Mention of Yukki, Silas and Constance

Yuya

The Boogie Man’s Palace is pretty lavish but I’ll just stay around the arcade, I’m not taking any gambles

Some of The spirits at the Graveyard were confused why another spirit was given them gifts…My it’s because if not from this world

Look at this Doll! We have similar outfits, too creepy? Of course that’s why I bought them

The Mayor been telling me all kinds of scary stories like the one of the Pumpkin King! We had to take a pause since he had to attend to something..he was in the middle of a good story

Yukki got chosen for the corpse bride, When we were at La Miel Boutique They were getting bombarded with different outfits to pick, I managed to help them things she liked but the final result is still a surprise.

Astrid

I was drawing in the town square and Miss.Camila came up behind me complimenting my work so I gave her one , She told me other places that she thinks I would have fun drawing as well

I gave the fountain an offer but I wasn’t sure if anything would happen…is it even possible for me to have good luck just wishful thinking

I saw some chocolate desserts at a nearby bakery and bought some for Silas, he’s eating them so I think I made the right selection.

The people at the Boutique said that the Romantic Gothic style fits me the most…

Flori

Constance been running away from her ex faster than I run from marriage offering.

When at the graveyard I swear I someone who looks like my father…maybe it’s because I wish I could’ve gotten a chance to know him more..

I bought this pumpkin lantern, it glows such a lovely color also I think it adds on to outfit.

Miss.Camila reminds me of my friend Evenly they even have similar styles.

I got some recommendations from the Mayor of novels and story books in Halloween Town, I absent reading them for the past hour

[zoeydoe]

If Noel and Mischa ever had kids they’d let the others babysit.

-Ocean would just be a total stick in the mud and enforce “healthy eating rules”

-Penny literally only knows how to make air fryer chicken nuggets so they eat that and then Penny helps the kid(s) build a blanket fort

-Constance makes THE BEST dinners and desserts for them and is generally the kid(s) favourite person to be babysat by

-Ricky orders takeout and lets them watch movies on his big tv with snacks and soda

Needless to say, Ocean does not babysit often.

[somebirdortheother]

WIP Wednesday Saturday Snippet

@thelettersfromnoone Tagged me and I was TOO SLOW (hadn't worked on my WIP properly, because I felt stuck). But, funny things with being stuck with editing is that sometimes you end up asking for brainstorming help, and your wonderful friends really deliver!!!

This week, I wanted to thank @lady-of-imladris - I had a significant issue in my novel that soured/dulled the entire thing for me. My android girlie's objectives were too nebulous and esoteric, and I was boring myself to tears with her pontifications at times. So, I felt like her story arc needed to be grounded in something rather simple. I won't spoil what it is here, but one of @lady-of-imladris suggestions ended up making it into the novel :)

“No longer the myth of creation,” Constance thought as she glanced at the smooth board in front of her. Lost in her own mind, she pressed her tongue against the hard palate, just behind her teeth, attempting to squash the sticky sensation of sweetness from the ice cream she had sampled an hour earlier.  Precisely a week had passed since her awakening, and the world around her was beginning to become dull. She had expected to be keen to demonstrate to Astrid all the significant changes she had undergone in that time span. Almost act like a human, almost see like a human, almost feel like a human, almost think like a human. She even synched her rest patterns with standard human circadian cycles, as unnecessary as that endeavor had been. Nearly the entirety of her life as an instance so far had been an elaborate experience of play-acting. There was not much to it.  “Another round?” Constance heard Astrid’s faint voice, infused with the low, continuous hum of the monitoring equipment. It hovered in the air as though it belonged to the DiCE network itself, disembodied and omnipresent.  A week of checking items off the list of experiences, she continued her train of thought, willing the taste of the common dessert to subside.  “Constance?”

Tagging @coraleethroughthelookingglass @klynnvakarian @thelettersfromnoone @lady-of-imladris @lapestelareste and everyone else who'd like to share what they are working on with no pressure!

[karlachismylife]

Good Night And Joy Be To You All

CW: hurt/comfort or maybe even angst, Johnny is homesick, everyone loves sea (especially me), everyone needs a hug (especially me). But also a hopeful ending!

(Title from a Scottish parting song "The Parting Glass")

Karlach finds Johnny standing on the edge of a cliff and knows all too well what it's like to miss your home.

Faerûn reminds Johnny of Scotland so much in these parts.

It's weird, he hasn't been home several months before the incident, the unexplainable fucking wacky shite that sent him and his men God knows where (or maybe even that good ol' lad doesn't know), and now, standing on a cliff over brooding sea - always reminded him of Ghost somehow - definitely not home, he feels that strange tug in his chest that is always there when he returns from deployment. It's just an illusion, it's a lie, it's obviously deceptive - Soap repeats it over and over, clutching his gun to his chest, heavy with a tactical vest (another telltale sign that this isn't home - he never brings that part of him to the bleak green hills of motherland) - and still can't shake the surreal homesick sensation. It always gets him only when he's already there, years of tough job trained his mind to keep off the sappy melancholic grounds when on duty - the less you wallow about wanting to get back home, the more focused you are. Therefore, your chances to actually see home again, grow.

Your life expectancy just goes way up.

He doesn't even dream of the Highlands when he's deployed. If anything, he doesn't think he dreams of anything at all when he's away - can't remember a single image, every blurry speck of colour escaping his thoughts when he tries to concentrate, as if the cool breeze, salty to the taste, withers them away. Does he dream of the war? Of the places he's in, be it hectic cities packed with traffic and unsuspecting civilians or miles of barren dessert, where life's only visible to those who know what to look for? Are there familiar faces, revving engines, soft hands or scorching white pain in his dreams?

Everything seems like an elusive dream here, on the edge of foreign land. Unfamiliar costline ripples in the smoky mist, flows over into his memories of Scotland's vast shores covered with grey foam. They're colliding together in his mind, forming one undteady, unsure picture of a dreamland - of a bittersweet nowhere he so longs to be right now.

Grass, a little too green too be like home's, rustles under clumsy footsteps, approaching him and dying down before this certain someone reaches him. A wave of warmth hitting his back in a weird contrast to the ocean breeze that steadily breathes in Johnny's face and blows the liveliness out of his eyes, just like it has already done with the sea itself, exposes Karlach before she even utters a single word.

"Hey, soldier." Her usually booming voice is so soft and solemn, as if the fire in her chest has also been cooled off by the persistent wind. Their lives aren't long enough to get anywhere close to the constancy of the ocean's surf - their explosive impatience has no chance against Mother Ocean, the cradle of everything living and its inevitable deep, deep grave.

Johnny always thought that he would like to become a part of where he's come from when he finally returns home for the last time. His body would mix as one with the ocean floor, among remains of living beings who came before him. The crashing of the waves, never deterring from its rythm, would become his pulse, steady, calm. Finally at peace. Forever at home.

Karlach is home. This is what she had been missing for long ten years - a whole eternity of its own, much less peaceful and serene than that of the great dove-coloured sea - and it's not just the clear, lightweight air of Faerûn, the sky that can rain water or soft, pliant grass and dirt under her feet.

Somehow it's a stranger coming from another world, much further than where she was held prisoner, that makes her feel like she's finally home. Makes the dull ache where her new heart is exhausting itself and pining hurt less. Makes the tears prickling in the corners of her dimmed, but still fierce tiger eyes evaporate.

"Ah miss my home," Johnny says, and her heart hurts all over again, like it never was ripped out, like her shoulders aren't breathing thick steam into the grumpy skies, like there's still something alive, bleeding and aching, scorched by Hell's fire yet surviving. "Tis place looks like home, but it's nae."

The sea stays indifferent to his words, thrown into the blue depths bitterly, like an accusation, and swallowed without any response beside the waves lapping at the shore. They sink, to be slowly covered in thick salt hide, coarse crystal fur that will eventually disitegrate every syllable until it builds itself into the monotone, repetative song of life and death Mother Ocean whispers with each wave.

His shoulders ache once he finally moves, deep into the night after the sun has invisibly set, bashfully hidden behind a thick moist veil of clouds. The weight of his vest multiplied by the whistfulness of a thousand lives Johnny has lived standing on that cliff cuts into the muscles through clothes, leaves dents and marks he rubs as he tries to restore blood circulation before hitting the bedroll and drifting off to the no dreams land.

A big, warm hand comes from behind, gripping his broad shoulder tightly, sparks tingling on the tanned skin from the life flowing through tiny blood vessels - or from the soft, tamed flames flickering on the clawed fingertips. Johnny takes a deep breath, collects every ounce of strength he hasn't thrown into the eternal abyss of alien sea yet, and almost forces the corners of his mouth to curl up in what should have been a sunlit grin.

His lips feel like there's a weight of a mountain - a green hill littered with fluffy flocks of sheep - tied to them by strings, tugging down with too much power. He fights it for a moment too long, and the weight breaks him. Proud head lolls forward, shoulders slump, whole body slowly crumbles.

Until it lands into strong, big arms, lowering Johnny carefully into soft warmth.

"Tell me about your home, Johnny," asks Karlach, wrapping her burly arms around his head. Devilish fingers still rubbing and pinching the exhaustion from his spent body away, long tail coiled around his waist. "You have sea too?"

She cradles him like a child, face hidden in the protective shelter of her stomach and lap, engine whirring so softly and calmly that Johnny can still hear the lullaby of the ocean, speaking to him of life and death just as clearly as it does back at home.

He carries the depth of Scottish sea in his eyes everywhere he goes, a piece of home always with him, and as it spills in little salty tears on Karlach's skin, she recieves a piece of it too.

"We'll find a way to get you back, I promise. If I managed to come back to my home, you can too." Her determination is unwavering, a will stronger than the faulty clock ticking seconds of life in her chest away, a belief so powerful it will make the promise come true against all odds.

A fire that burns so bright, Johnny thinks for a brief moment - if he can't come back home in Scotland, he knows who can be his new home in Faerûn.

[mightyflamethrower]

WEST PALM BEACH, FL — The Trump campaign announced Monday that the former president had begun preparing for his upcoming debate with Joe Biden by visiting nursing homes and arguing with dementia patients.

"George, you're wrong about lime JELL-O. Nobody likes it," Trump said as he argued with a 94-year-old dementia patient who claims to be constantly observed by Russian spies. "It doesn't taste good! Everyone's telling me all the time how much they hate it and you're telling me they should serve it every day? On DAY ONE I will ban lime JELL-O."

"And Mexico will pay for it!"

Elderly onlookers applauded as Trump slammed the dementia patient after suddenly picking a fight with him during dessert time.

"It's like he's saying what we're all thinking," said Constance Woodrow, a 78-year-old Alzheimer's patient.

In another instance, Trump screamed at a WWII veteran until he started crying.

"Greatest generation? More like lamest generation," Trump quipped, invoking laughs from orderlies. "You complain about loud music when people — good people — are trying to listen to jazz. You make me sick, to tell you the truth."

"But thank you for your service."

In this, and many such cases, a crowd of old folks erupted in cheers for Trump as he blasted one dementia patient after another.

Trump's debate prep is a distinct departure from previous campaign years when he spent time studying government policy and took part in mock debates against former New Jersey Governor Chris Christie.

"I spent all my time arguing against a fat man about bridges or something," Trump said, reflecting on past debate missteps. "It didn't prepare me at all. Biden is thin and he hates bridges!"

Sources close to the Biden campaign confirm the president is concerned about this new development leading up to Thursday's debate.

"Oh no, my ice cream," Biden reportedly whispered as his wife led him away.

At publishing time, sources confirm that if Trump fails to win the presidency he will be welcome at Shady Oaks Assisted Living.

[moonmoonthecrabking]

soap scents the choir use bc i'm tired but i started thinking idk let me have this please

noel: lavender, because noel gruber is a lavender bitch and i will die on this hill

ocean: almond milk (MAYBE milk and honey) because it's a gentler sort of scent and if she uses a body scrub or whatever that type is better for sensitive skin

ricky: mango because i think he likes mango sorbet and i want him to have mango so he gets mango. or rose i think he likes moringa scented stuff :)

constance: definitely lush products such as snow fairy or american cream. like a berry-dessert sort of thing y'know??

penny: LEMON AND POMEGRANTE NEXT

mischa: he uses charcoal flavoured stuff. and like. it's not not because "a hooker with a heart of black charcoal" lives in his mind rent free. but like, even though he feels secure in his masculinity, he likes it and goes for it. ALSO mischa uses bath salts i don't make the rules

bonus!!! talia: roses what did you think i was going to say

[callsign-owl]

Unspoken Rules - Part 1

London, United Kingdom - April 1999

In the grand ballroom of the family estate elegantly dresses guests mingled. The air was filled with the soft hum of conversation, punctuated by the clinking of champagne glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. The gala was small yet it was still a grand affair, organized by Bartholomew to celebrate yet another successful business endeavour. It was a display of power and prestige, attended by politicians, business moguls, and socialites who moved through the room with practiced grace.

In a corner of the room, Owl stood awkwardly, clutching a glass of orange juice, not even ten years old at this point in time. His gaze darted around the room, taking in the sights and sounds that were both fascinating and overwhelming. Owl's older brother, Percival, stood nearby, already dressed like a miniature version of their father. At fourteen, Percival exuded a calm confidence that seemed far beyond his years. He navigated the social currents of the event with ease, charming the adults with polite conversation.

"Remember to smile," Percival whispered to his younger brother, leaning over to give him a gentle nudge. "And don’t fidget so much. People notice."

Owl nodded, though the words barely registered. His mind was a whirlwind of sensory input—the clinking glasses, the rustle of dresses, the overpowering scent of perfumes mixing in the air. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, which felt like it was suffocating him.

"*redacted*, for goodness' sake, stop fidgeting," Bartholomew hissed as he passed by, his voice low but sharp. Owl's attempt to stand still only lasted a moment before his fingers found the edge of his jacket, tracing the seams for comfort.

Trying to mimic Percy's, Owl eventually approached a group of guests, determined to make his father proud. But their conversation was a blur of meaningless words, and he struggled to find an entry point. As he stood on there, a thought struck him—a joke he had read in a book recently. It seemed like the perfect way to break the ice.

"Why did the scarecrow win an award?" Owl blurted out, his voice louder than he intended.

The adults paused, a few eyebrows raised in surprise at the interruption. Owl continued, oblivious to the growing tension, "Because he was outstanding in his field!"

There was a brief silence before a polite chuckle escaped from one of the guests, but the others merely exchanged puzzled glances. To Owl, their reactions were confusing. It was a good joke, wasn't it?

Bartholomew, overhearing the exchange, felt a surge of anger rise within him. He swiftly crossed the room, placing a firm hand on Owl's shoulder and leading him away from the group. "This is not the time for childish antics, *redacted*," he said through gritted teeth. "Go and find your brother. Learn from him how to conduct yourself."

Owl nodded, the rebuke stinging more than he let show. As his father turned away, Owl retreated to the edge of the room, feeling a little lost. He scanned the crowd for Percy, finally spotting him engaged in conversation. But Owl didn't want to be like Percy. He didn't understand why he had to play a part he didn't feel fit him. He only knew that every attempt to be himself seemed to end in disaster.

As the gala continued, the guests eventually started drifting towards the grand dessert table set up at one end of the ballroom. It was laden with an array of exquisite sweets—miniature tarts, rich chocolate mousse, colourful macarons and an extravagant croquembouche towering over the rest. The enticing aroma of sugar and chocolate was irresistible, drawing people in.

Owl, having retreated from his previous attempt at socializing, found himself drawn to the tablle as well. As he approached, he noticed a group of elegantly dressed guests gathered nearby, engaged in conversation. Among the guests was Lady Constance, along with a few of her friends, all of whom were influential figures in the social circuit. They were discussing a recent art exhibition.

Owl reached for a macaron, the vivid colors of the pastries catching his eye. As he took a bite, a thought popped into his head—something he had read about macarons being notoriously difficult to make. Maybe this would be a good opportunity to share a fun fact and engage with the adults in a topic he found interesting.

Owl turned to the group. "Did you know," he began, his voice cutting through their discussion, "that making macarons is so hard because of something called the 'macaronage' process? You have to fold the batter just right, or they won't have those little feet at the bottom."

The adults turned their attention to Owl, most with an expressions of mild surprise. Lady Constance paused, her head tilted slightly as she regarded Owl.

"That's quite an interesting fact, young man," she said, her voice laced with a touch of disdain. "But we're discussing the symbolism in contemporary art right now."

The implication that his contribution to the conversation wasn't welcome, flew right over Owl's head and he continued. "And did you know that macarons were originally Italian, not French?"

The group exchanged glances, unsure of how to respond. Lady Constance however now looked clearly annoyed by the interruption. Not noticing the obvious shift in atmosphere, Owl remained undeterred. He gestured to the towering croquembouche, eager to share another tidbit he remembered. "That’s a croquembouche," he said, pointing at the tower of cream-filled profiteroles. "It means ‘crunch in the mouth’ in French!"

"You certainly know your desserts," Lady Constance said, her tone dismissive. "Perhaps you'd like to sample a few more?"

"No, thank you, I've had enough dessert," Owl replied earnestly.

Lady Constance's expression tightened, momentarily taken aback by Owl’s literal interpretation of her suggestion, but before she could respond, Bartholomew appeared, his face a mask of barely contained fury. He placed a firm hand on Owl's shoulder, his grip tight enough to make the boy wince.

"Lady Constance, I apologize for my son's interruption," Bartholomew said smoothly, his voice cold and controlled. "*redacted*, come with me. Now."

As Bartholomew led Owl away, the boy looked up at his father, confusion and hurt in his eyes. "But I was just talking about the desserts," he said quietly.

"This is not the time or place for your random facts," Bartholomew snapped, his voice low but harsh. "You need to learn how to behave appropriately in these settings. You're embarrassing yourself and the family."

Owl's heart sank at his father's words. He looked down at the floor, feeling a familiar mix of confusion and frustration bubble up inside him.

"But I was only trying to talk," Owl mumbled. "Percy said I should try and join conversations."

Bartholomew sighed, exasperation written all over his face. "Joining the conversation means listening, understanding, and contributing in a way that's appropriate," he said, his tone clipped. "Not interrupting with irrelevant facts."

"I thought they were interesting," Owl replied quietly, his voice barely audible over the clinking of glasses and murmurs of the crowd.

Bartholomew paused, looking down at his son with a mixture of impatience and disbelief. "Interesting to you, perhaps. But this isn't the place for...for your little trivia games, *redacted*," he said, struggling to find the words. "These are important people, and they don't have time for your nonsense."

Owl felt the sting of tears forming in his eyes, but he blinked them away, not daring to show weakness in front of his father. He didn't understand why sharing something he found fascinating was considered wrong, and the more he tried to fit in, the more it seemed he was out of place. It was like being in a room full of people speaking a language he couldn't understand. No matter what he did, it was never the right thing. Owl wished he could just understand the rules that everyone else seemed to know instinctively.

"I'm sorry," Owl said, though the words felt hollow. He wasn't entirely sure what he was apologizing for, but he knew it was what his father expected.

Bartholomew released his grip on Owl's shoulder with a sigh of frustration. He glanced around the room, ensuring no one had overheard their conversation. His reputation mattered more than anything, and any perception of weakness or embarrassment was unacceptable.

"Just...stay out of trouble." Bartholomew said, his voice harsh. Without another word, he turned and walked back towards the crowd of guests, leaving Owl standing alone.

As Owl watched his father's walk away, a sense of isolation washing over him like a cold wave. Everyone else seemed to fit seamlessly into this world, while he felt like a piece of a puzzle that didn’t belong. He felt a profound sense of loneliness, as if he were adrift in a sea of people who could never understand him. He knew he was different, and that difference felt like a barrier he couldn't breach.

Continue reading here

[blackacre13]

Dear Logan, would you please write about Debbie or Lou having a black eye or a visual injury like that and the rest of the crew is super worried and planning revenge until they get them to confess they got hurt because they fell while having sex

“So,” Constance smirked, taking a fierce bite of her pizza, crust first as Tammy looked on in disgust before putting her head in her hands, mumbling something about how this loft was supposed to be her escape from home and motherhood. “Are we just gonna ignore the bear in the room?”

“Elephant, dear,” Rose murmured, caught up in the sewing project on her lap, salad from dinner still untouched in front of her.

“Shit. What?” Constance jumped up, the pizza slice dangling dangerously from her mouth before it fell directly on the table, Tammy letting out a frustrated growl.

“That’s the expression, Con,” Nine laughed. “Elephant, dude. No bear. And if you talkin’ ‘bout dad’s eye, I also want the scoop. Lemme guess, other guy looks worse?”

The blonde rolled her eyes, mumbling something, before purposely taking a long sip of her drink to stall the answer to the question, but Amita caught Debbie blushing. Daphne caught on immediately.

“I think,” Daphne grinned, putting her napkin down on her lap. “There is no other guy at all and our answer rather lays with the other woman. Deb?”

“Don’t,” Lou warned, glaring at Daphne before she took her partner’s hand in her own, the two of them sharing one of their silent looks.

“I’m going to regret asking this,” Tammy sighed. “But I take it this wasn’t another volume to add to the infamous collection of Lou Miller bar fights? And that certainly isn’t a bike injury.”

“End it, Tam,” Debbie grumbled. “Anyone want dessert?” She tried, tugging at Lou’s hand as she made to stand. “We can go grab some ice cream and bring it back.”

“Or better yet, why don’t you lot go and spend our easy earned money?” Lou suggested, laying a crisp stack of hundred dollar bills in the middle of the table.

“I’m not even going to ask about those,” Tammy shook her head. “I don’t want to know. I’m not part of this life anymore.”

“Aw,” Nine chuckled. “Sure you are, mama. It might still be a soccer mom van, but you can’t pretend it ain’t top of the line. You tellin’ me your toddler needs bluetooth capability, a personal tv and  a personal cooler inches from his carseat?”

Tammy shut her mouth at that and it was obvious that both Lou and Debbie were grateful for the distraction, attempting to sneak away.

“Hold up!” Daphne yelled, physically stopping Debbie with a perfectly manicured fingernail to the collarbone. “Looks like the other guy may not look worse, but she’s far from innocent. Care to explain this?” She motioned to the purple-blue bruise on Debbie’s shoulder that was now peeking out of her blouse that had shifted when she stood.

“We don’t need to explain ourselves to you,” Lou huffed. “Take the cash. And get out.”

“Not the first time we heard that, dad,” Constance snorted.

“Can we just cut to the chase here?” Amita asked. “We all know it’s a sex thing. It practically always is. I just hoped it would die down once they were married.”

“Keep dreaming, Mita,” Tammy exhaled.

“Who was on top?” Constance asked through another mouthful of pizza.

“New position?” Daphne clucked. “I mean you two are starting to get up there. Think they make some sort of sex aid that’ll keep you feeling young?”

“If you must know,” Debbie snapped, separating herself from the blonde as she whipped around to face Daphne. “I accidentally elbowed my wife in the face and gave her a black eye.”

“Naked,” Nine coughed.

“Hot,” Constance provided.

“Actually, I bought Deb this little black leather—“

“Stop! Stop! Dear god, I beg of you,” Tammy complained, sticking her fingers in her ears.

“And the shoulder bruise?” Rose asked timidly, earning several wide eyes and smirks from the crowd.

“Sometimes lube is just really…” Lou searched for the word.

“Slippery,” Debbie smirked, locking eyes with the blonde as they grinned.

“We can just blame Isaac Newton and the power of sex toys for that one,” Lou winked, turning back to the group. “Now can we get back to eating pizza like a normal group of criminals or do I have to start throwing people out on the street to find other criminal foster parents for their adult selves because Deb and I would be more than happy to cash you out for a new batch of kids.”

“Like hell you would,” Nine grinned.

“Wait, we can have more siblings?” Constance screamed.

[behold-the-brave-battalion-17]

Constance, trying to be tough: I'm gonna split you like a sundae with Grandpa, bitch. 

Mischa: Okay. Okay. The "bitch" part was great.

Constance: Yes! 

Mischa: Although, mean threats generally do not involve having desserts with grandparents.

[ask-st-ccchoir]

Constance’s little brother:

Oh uhh you’re that girl, that uhh comes to our house a lot, Mommy said you’re my new big sister because you’re mommy and daddy were being meanies. Maybe thats why you were a meanie, I hope Connie teaches you niceness she’s good at that. I think I have enough big sisters, but I like it when you talk about birds, you are very smart so maybe you’ll teach me to be smart too. My teacher says it’s good to forgive and give a second chance, so I might forget your meaniness if you promise to give me your dessert once. I want to try to be your friend so here’s a drawing I made of you with an owl.

(You hear him getting picked up and taken away by Mr Blackwood as he lightly chastises him for wandering off) nooo I don’t like nap time! I’m a big boy!

//hospital person, felt like being silly forgot to send//

//AWWWW SILLY BOY AHWHSGHSBGD//

🌊thank you for giving me another chance! And fine I'll share my dessert with you if i get back- This owl drawing is good, dang

[home-decor-design]

The most beautiful old cafes in the world

It's hard to believe, but some cafes have existed for several centuries. Just imagine that you can go for a coffee and you will be surrounded by objects that are already 200, or even 300 years old. And how many stories such establishments keep! In this article, we'll highlight 30 old retro cafes you might want to visit on your next trip.

Cafe Chris, Amsterdam

Location:  Bloemstraat 42, 1015 TB Amsterdam, Netherlands Cafe Chris is the oldest establishment in Amsterdam, founded in 1624 in the Jordaan district. Due to its dark interior, it is also called “Brown Cafe”. Once upon a time, workers who were building the Westerkerk bell tower came here for wages. The cafe still has old floorboards, backlit windows, and dark wood paneling.

Gran Caffe Quadri, Venice

Location: Piazza San Marco, 121, 30124 Venezia VE, Italy The establishment opened its doors in 1638 - then it was called Il Rimedio. Malvasia wine was served here and was said to “invigorate the body and awaken the mind.” In 1775, merchant Giorgio Quadri and his wife Naxina, who arrived from Corfu, decided to invest in this cafe. This is how the history of Gran Caffe Quadri began. In 1830, management passed to the Vaerini brothers, who expanded the establishment by one more floor. In 2011, the Alaimo family bought the cafe. In 2018, Gran Caffe Quadri underwent a major renovation. The famous French creative and designer Philippe Starck was invited to transform it.

Cafe Procope, Paris

Location: 13 Rue de l'Ancienne Comédie, 75006 Paris, France Café Procope is the first literary café in Paris. It was discovered in 1686 by Sicilian immigrant Francesco Procopio dei Coltelli - after whom it took its name. Following the traditions of the Procopio family, who ran the establishment for many years, the cafe serves sorbet and granita (crushed ice), the forerunners of ice cream. King Louis XIV appointed Café Procope as the exclusive producer of sorbets. Its famous visitors include Napoleon, Honoré de Balzac, Paul Verlaine, Victor Hugo and Voltaire.

Cafe Tomaselli, Salzburg

Location: Alter Markt 9, 5020 Salzburg, Austria In the center of Salzburg, on the Alter Markt square, there is the Tomaselli cafe, perhaps one of the most famous in the world. Family-owned for centuries, this restaurant embodies stylish Austrian coffee culture. The first cafe was opened here in 1703, and in 1852 it was bought by Karl Tomaselli. Mozart and his wife Constance, playwright Hugo von Hofmannsthal, and composer Carl Weber loved to visit it. Cafe Tomaselli recommends trying the Einspänner (double espresso with cold whipped cream) and Melange (an espresso-based coffee drink with the addition of heated and frothed milk and whipped cream).

Caffe Florian, Venice

Location: Piazza San Marco, 57, 30124 Venezia VE, Italy Caffe Florian is one of the first cafes in what is now Italy. It was opened in 1720 under the name Alla Venezia Trionfante. The establishment gained popularity due to the fact that both men and women could visit it - in those years this was very rare. Over time, the cafe began to be called Florian - in honor of the owner Floriani Francesconi. In 1760, the sales point for Venice's first newspaper, Gazzetta Veneta, was opened here. At different times, the cafe was visited by Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Johann Goethe, Charles Dickens, George Byron, Giacomo Casanova, Ernest Hemingway and others. Today, Caffe Florian offers more than 30 varieties of coffee drinks, many desserts, salads and light snacks.

Antico Caffe Greco, Rome

Location: Via dei Condotti, 86, 00187 Roma RM, Italy Antico Caffè Greco is a historical café in Rome, opened in 1760. Its founder is the Greek Nicola della Maddalena. Over the centuries, the elegant Caffè Greco has been visited by Hans Christian Andersen, George Byron, Henrik Ibsen, John Keats, Mark Twain and others. Some 300 paintings, memorabilia and vintage photographs of famous clients adorn the walls of this establishment. And gilded mirrors and a piano help maintain an authentic atmosphere.

Caffè Al Bicerin, Turin

Location: Piazza della Consolata, 5, 10122 Torino TO, Italy The history of the establishment began in 1763, when Giuseppe Dentis opened his small shop in the premises opposite the entrance to the Santuario della Consolata Cathedral. In 1856, the current building was built here according to the design of the architect Carlo Promis. And then the cafe acquired a more elegant form, which we can appreciate today - its walls were decorated with wooden panels, mirrors and lamps. It now has round white marble tables, a counter, and shelves. This establishment was the birthplace of the famous Turin drink Bicerin - a mixture of coffee, chocolate, milk and syrup. Even Alexandre Dumas mentioned it in one of his novels.

El Fishawy, Cairo

Location: El-Gamaleya, El Gamaliya, Cairo Governorate, Egypt El Fishawy Café is hidden in the heart of Khan Al Khalili Souk. Its doors opened to visitors in 1773. The first owner of the establishment served Turkish coffee to his friends after sunset. There were more and more people wanting to enjoy a cup of aromatic drink and discuss city news. And then the owner bought buildings nearby, added even more items and hookah to the menu. The current owners of El Fishawy, heirs of the founder, are trying to preserve the traditions and atmosphere of the establishment.

Cafe Tortoni, Buenos Aires, 1858

Location: Av. de Mayo 825, C1084 Buenos Aires, Argentina Cafe Tortoni is considered the oldest in Argentina. It was opened by an emigrant from France in 1858 and named after the café of the same name in Paris. It is worth noting that the first premises of Cafe Tortoni were located on Avenida Rivadavia. The cafe moved to its current location in 1880. The owners have maintained the same style of the establishment throughout all the years of its existence. There is a tango room, as well as tables for playing billiards, dominoes and dice. His most famous guests were Garcia Lorca, Jorge Luis Borges, Carlos Gardel, Hillary Clinton, Albert Einstein, Robert Duvall.

Café Gerbeaud, Budapest

Location: Budapest, Vörösmarty tér 7-8, 1051 Hungary Café Gerbeaud is the most famous cafe in Europe, whose history began in 1858. Its founder is Henrik Kugler, a representative of the third generation of a dynasty of confectioners. He became the first to offer customers slices of his signature Coogler cake to-go in cardboard boxes. During a visit to Paris in 1882, Henrik Kugler met Emil Gerbaud - they soon became business partners. And later, a French confectioner entrepreneur bought the cafe completely. With the advent of Gerbeau, many changes took place in the confectionery - the menu expanded, the equipment changed, and the staff increased. Café Gerbeaud became a favorite place not only among city residents, but also among city guests, since the prices here were affordable for absolutely everyone. After Emile Gerbeau's death in 1919, his wife ran the confectionery. From 1950 to 1984 the cafe was nationalized and was called Vörösmarty. In 1995, Café Gerbeaud was bought by German entrepreneur Erwin Franz Müller. The establishment was renovated and restored to its historical appearance.

Gran Caffè Gambrinus, Naples, Italy

Location: Via Chiaia, 1/2, 80132 Napoli NA, Italy The legendary coffee shop is located in the center of Naples. The establishment was founded by Vincenzo Apuzzo in 1860 - his dream was to create the best cafe in Italy. The next owner was Mario Vacca in 1889. By that time, the premises were already in need of reconstruction. The owner of the cafe invited an architect and artists who worked on updating the interior. Their paintings and sculptures adorn Caffè Gambrinus to this day. The establishment was once visited by Matilda Serao, Ernest Hemingway, Oscar Wilde, Guy de Maupassant, Princess Sissi, and Emile Zola. By the way, the tradition of caffé sospeso was born here - paying for coffee for the next customer.

Cafe de la Paix, Paris

Where is it: 5 Pl. de l'Opéra, 75009 Paris, France Café de la Paix is located in the 9th arrondissement of Paris, at the intersection of Boulevard des Capucines and Place de l'Opéra, in the building of the Le Grand Hotel. The hotel and cafe were opened in 1862 with the financial support of the Pereire brothers. The Café de la Paix gained its first international reputation in 1867, serving the International Exhibition. The establishment, located next to the Opera Garnier, attracted many famous personalities. Pyotr Tchaikovsky, Jules Massenet, the Prince of Wales and Edward VII visited here. In 1896, Eugene Piroux held film screenings at the Café de la Paix, and later a radio studio was organized there. Just like 150 years ago, today the restaurant is also very popular. Salads, hot dishes, snacks and desserts are served here.

Café du Monde, New Orleans

Location: 800 Decatur St, New Orleans, LA 70116, USA Café du Monde is a true New Orleans landmark. The establishment has been in business since 1862 and always serves dark roasted chicory coffee, milk (regular or chocolate), fresh orange juice, hot chocolate and French donuts (beignets).

Cafe Landtmann, Vienna

Location: Universitätsring 4, 1010 Wien, Austria Café Landtmann is the oldest in Vienna. Guests began to be received here on October 1, 1873. Franz Landtmann dreamed of opening not just a coffee shop, but the most elegant place in Vienna. And he did everything for this - visitors were delighted with the innovative spirit of the establishment. Years passed, the owners changed, but this place was always popular among citizens and guests of the capital. In the 1970s, Cafe Landtmann was threatened with closure, but thanks to the efforts of the new owners, it was saved.

Baratti & Milano, Turin

Location: Piazza Castello, 27, 10123 Torino TO, Italy Caffè Baratti & Milano is a historic café in Turin, opened in 1875 in the central Galleria Subalpina. The establishment owes its name to two pastry chefs from Canavese: Ferdinando Baratti and Edoardo Milano. Soon after its opening, Caffè Baratti & Milano became a meeting place for the intelligentsia and the bourgeoisie. Its success has grown to the level of "official supplier of the Royal House". The current appearance of the restaurant is the result of reconstruction in 1909. The room has a lot of marble, bronze, stucco, gilding and wide mirrors, which give this place a rich artistic appearance. The cafe was damaged during the Second World War, but was restored in 1948. Caffè Baratti & Milano offers its visitors more than 20 types of coffee drinks, tea, light snacks, pastries and sweets.

Cafe Central, Vienna

Location: Herrengasse 14, 1010 Wien, Austria The Central coffee shop is the most popular place in Vienna and is included in all must-see lists in this city. There are always long queues here - people come here to drink delicious coffee, eat strudel, listen to live music and just enjoy the atmosphere. Cafe Central was founded by the Pakhi brothers in 1876. Over time, the establishment became a popular place where cultural representatives loved to come. His regular guests were Egon Friedel, Peter Altenberg, Adolf Loos, Alfred Adler, Leon Trotsky and others. After World War II, Cafe Central closed. In 1975, the Ferstel Palace, where the establishment was located, was completely renovated. After this, the cafe reopened its doors to visitors.

Cafe Sacher Wien, Vienna

Location: Philharmoniker Str. 4, 1010 Wien, Austria Another must-visit place in Vienna is the famous Sacher Wien café. After all, this is where they serve Sachertorte, made according to the classic recipe. In 1876, the Sacher family opened a hotel next to the Vienna Opera, which operated a café. It became a place where it was customary to have dinner before attending the opera - writers, artists and high-ranking officials met here. Today, Cafe Sacher Wien is still very popular, as evidenced by the long queues.

Les Deux Magots, Paris

Where is it: 6 Pl. Saint-Germain des Pres, 75006 Paris, France Les Deux Magots is a famous Parisian cafe located in the luxurious Saint-Germain-des-Prés quarter. It opened its doors to visitors in 1884. Originally a novelty store was located here, later coffee liqueurs were sold on this site. By 1914, the company was on the verge of bankruptcy, and was bought by Auguste Boulet for his cafe. His heirs still manage the establishment to this day. Since then, Les Deux Magots has played an important role in the cultural life of the capital - writers, poets, artists and other intellectuals gathered here. Among the guests in the cafe one could meet Pablo Picasso, Bertolt Brecht, Albert Camus. The establishment has been described more than once in literary works and shown in films.

Cafe de Flore, Paris

Location: 172 Bd Saint-Germain, 75006 Paris, France Cafe de Flore was opened in 1887 in the 6th arrondissement of Paris, on the corner of Boulevard Saint-Germain and Rue Saint-Benoît. The interior of the establishment, in the classic Art Deco style, has remained virtually unchanged since World War II. Since its opening, intellectual audiences have met here. Among the famous guests at Cafe de Flore were Robert Desnos, Pablo Picasso, Georges Bataille. By the way, Charles Maurras wrote his book Au signe de Flore while sitting on the first floor of the cafe. The restaurant's menu includes breakfasts, salads, cheeses, hot dishes, drinks and desserts.

Cafe Comercial, Madrid

Location: Glorieta de Bilbao, 7, 28004 Madrid, Spain Café Comercial is located in the Glorieta de Bilbao square. It was founded by Antonio Gomez Fernandez in 1887. Read the full article

[genevieveetguy]

Dessert for Constance (Un dessert pour Constance), Sarah Maldoror (1981)