#weston family brew

[evilminji]

Ooooh~ Drink mix up? >.>

Because! Wes DID, in fact, get that dream job. HAS learned... after many, many hours of "beat about the head and shoulders with an ethics pamphlet by his great aunt", to keep his mouth shut! Family curse of Sight? WHAT family curse?

He doesn't see shit! Mind your business.

What're you? A cop?

Look, he sent Fenton a gift basket. He was a shitty, shitty "I have to be RIGHT and nothing else matters!" Stubborn lil asshole of a kid. He got better. Grew up. No one is there best Self during puberty. He DOES, in fact, regret it.

Which is WHY, he is deliberately ignoring Kent's terrible, awful, paper-thin, "who meee~?" Aw shucks BULLSHIT excuse of a disguise, like it isn't blatantly obvious he's Superman. Yep. Nothing to see here! Nothing but us chickens! Mmmmm, morning coffee! Delicious.

But see, here's the THING.

The Itty, bitty, teeny lil PROBLEM...

Wes grew up in Amity "Totally Not Supernatural Hotspot For Centuries" Park. He is... to put it mildly, genetically? A freak. His biology is ALL fucked up. Everyone's is. And it WAS NOT made better by the Fenton's playing fast and loose with their hell basement. The Ectoplasmic NUKE that was that portal.

There is a REASON his morning coffee? Is COVERED. Contained. Fenton brand, LEAD LINED, specialty cups. The sort that can't be EATEN from the inside out. Eroded after a few uses. They're ugly as sin, but they work. He even ordered a few covers from Star's etsy shop. (Apparently he wasn't the only one who hated how ugly they looked. Good for her though, he heard it was doing well.)

He SAYS this? 'Cause his morning brew is less... straight COFFEE... and more... how to put this? A blend? Brew? Potion, really. Like an energy drink. From hell. Or, partially at least, the Zone. It's the combination of roots, seeds, and a few dried berries. Kinda like a tea, actually!

Tasty. Adds this nice fruity, warmth. A zing. Goes GREAT with the coffee. And it really perks you up... if you are Limnal. If you AREN'T? It'll desolve your esophagus like swallowing straight acid. And that's not TOUCHING the... witch-y, more Seer specific bit of the blend.

That stuff is medicinal. You know, "calm the mind" and "mental clarity". That sorta thing. With a good ol helping of "don't blurt out everyone's secrets, you spacey bitch! For the love of God, those are our INSIDE THOUGHTS!". Which? Really helpful! Infinitely less likely to get decked. It's a family staple.

Poisonous, though.

They're fine cause they've basically developed an immunity to that part, but like? Wouldn't recommend. It's why he NEVER shares his drinks. Food? On occasion. If he PLANS it and knows not to add and interesting spices. But DRINKS? Never. Weston family brews are basically NEVER safe.

Which? Begs the Very Important Question ™!

Who's Coffee Is This?

Cause it SURE AS FUCK AINT HIS!

You never realize quite how fast you can go from "completely calm and kinda sleepy" to "bomb strapped to my chest, primal panic AWAKE" until it happens to you. His coffee was ON HIS DESK. People have passed by. He talked to them. Cups put down and picked up. Lazy early morning. He doesn't even register, really, as his chair crashes to the ground.

He's shouting.

People confused. They don't realize yet. His head whips around, looking for that distinct cover. Before it's too late. Before someone takes that fatal sip. He spots it. Bolting from his desk. Crashing through coworkers, over desks. Chaos and outrage. "It's 'just' coffee!" They cry.

Kent turns, confused. Pretending. Raises his (HIS! Oh god!) cup to his lips, unknowing. Wes SCREAMS a warning. But he doesn't listen. "It's 'just' coffee" They never listen. Curse of Cassandra. God's damn it. This is why his family fucking CONVERTED!

He TACKLES the man of steel.

RIPS his cup away from him, knows his eyes are frantic. How much have you had?! Spit it out! Wes voice ECHOES in the sudden silence. I'm a META, Kent! It could KILL YOU!

And oh, Oh NOW they get it. Or perhaps it is the burn in his mouth that finally registers. He rolls, spits oil slick nebulae that eat away the floor. There is blood mixed within it. It took mere moments. Superman stares, transfixed and horrified, as Wes shakes. He... he should probably get off of him.

He'll move in a moment.

When his legs no longer feel weak from terror.

The news room is in chaos. Lane kneeling by her husband, Perry trying to do damage control. He... he's probably gonna lose his job, isn't he? Wes wants to cry. Protection laws only go so far, after all. And warning his boss about his dietary needs means jack shit, after an incident like this. Beloved as Kent is. Not that anyone likely believed him.

They never do.

And now he's nearly killed Superman.

@hypewinter @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @nerdpoe @lolottes @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @dcxdpdabbles

[buggywiththefolkmagic]

Hello!! I was wondering if you have any book recommendations for Appalachian folk magic? Especially for a beginner, I’m familiar with our local “old wive’s tales” but I’d love to learn more!!

Hello there! I have answered this question before but I have some new resources so I'll list them here!

It really depends on which part of Appalachia you are looking at! And if you want to dig deeper the ancestral roots of the family you are looking at. For example my family has a lot of Welsh and British influence because that was our family source so a lot of those beliefs lingered and changed throughout the years!

Someone from Pennsylvania would likely have a lot more German roots for their practice. But despite the root differences for the folklore these practices stem from they do still share a lot of connecting points!

But having babbled all of that here are my favorite books on AFM specifically. (Mind you Christianity takes a super huge part in the practice so a lot of bible and doing things in threes for the Trinity is involved!)

Authors to check out:

H. Byron Ballard- A pagan who also practices AFM, from the NC side of Appalachia, a lot of people hate her writing style which is a bit ramble-y. I also dislike the term she uses for her own practice but that is a super simple and small complaint honestly. I own all of her books on the subject, which should say something.

A NOTE ON H. BYRON BALLARD: I no longer support her work after discovering she is a TERF. I will no longer be suggesting her as an author to follow.

Jake Richards - From Eastern TN like me! A lot of what he talks about are things I have seen before, and he breaks down complex concepts like burn blowing into something relatively easily understood. HOWEVER HAVING SAID THAT the author is partially Melungeon, so he does have some Hoodoo mixed in from his grandmother's side iirc? He does label these things in his works and explains that they are not for everyone which I do appreciate.

Rebecca Beyer - While vaguely Wiccan toned, which I attribute to her publishers/raising, she's a transplant to Appalachia and if you're looking for herbal information on Appalachia and to wax poetic about how even with a ton of people settling there SO MUCH of the natural herbs and plantlife still survive, read her work! Her work on foraging safely and environmentally is so SOOOOO good.

Brandon Weston - For Ozark Mountain range/German/Dutch Appalachian work! He has written quite a few books on the subject and all of them are a treat!

Roger J. Horne - For how to dig into folklore and apply it to your own practice! This author is pagan and does blend in some traditional work with the Appalachian but I do enjoy his work and how he applies folklore. This author is also FROM Appalachia which is nice to see.

INDIVIDUAL BOOKS TO READ:

Appalachian Folk Healing by Jake Richards - A republication of a very old book on remedies and 'spells', while kitschy and stupidly worded, after all it was a popular book created just for sales reasons, some of these remedies are things I remember having done to me! Good for both a giggle and actual information. TW for mentions of animal parts, hunting, illnesses, the G slur, period specific phobias and racism.

Albertus Magnus - These books all supposedly written by an ancient guy, were actually mildly common on traveling salesmen's trucks and wagons. So as a result a lot of people in Appalachia had access. Like the book above it is very stupidly worded and definitely of their time. Same TW as above.

Pow-Wows or Long Lost Friend - Another Pennsylvania Dutch book! Very good and very clear.

Southern Folk Medicine - A book that breaks down a lot of common medicinal beliefs in the South which does include Appalachia! Sadly not just Appalachia but a very good book regardless. THIS BOOK MADE ME UNDERSTAND THE THEORY BEHIND BLOOD ISSUES MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE EVER HAS.

Moon Eyed People - A collection of Welsh folktales that brewed within Appalachia from Welsh immigrants. Very good book imo!

Granny Buck's Dibs and Dabs - This book is so worth the price tag! One of the more expensive books in my collection, but I'm fine with that. Granny Buck covers a lot of topics and I can feel the accent through the wording!

Signs, Cures, & Witchery - More German Appalachian stuff! This book and it's interviewees are from the Kentucky side of the mountains!

Witches, Ghost, and Signs - This book is based more in the Southern Appalachian area! Georgia, SC, NC, and TN specifically! Lots of folklore here, but does mention some not so great bits of the lore, but that is expected.

The Foxfire Books - What began as a school project exploded into a collection of true to life stories and idioms from Georgia elders within the mountains. SO SO GOOD OKAY? For everything. How to plant, hunt, make musical instruments, anything from the mountains? They cover.

[vibelladonna]

𝓁𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 ✑ ℰ𝒹𝓌𝒶𝓇𝒹 ℳ𝒾𝒹𝒻𝑜𝓇𝒹

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: Edward and Violeta, despite their commitment to each other and their shared responsibilities towards their younger sibling, find themselves constantly occupied. Their busy schedules leave little room for intimacy or quality time together. However, during one of the arranged playdates for their siblings, they finally manage to carve out some time for themselves. This unexpected opportunity allows them to indulge in literature sessions, deepening their connection sensually and intimately.

𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓅𝓁𝑒: Edward Midford/(My OC: Violeta Dallas)

𝒞𝒶𝓉𝑒𝑔𝑜𝓇𝓎: Smut (NSFW, 18+), Mentions of Switch OC! Switch! Edward Midford

𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 7,104 words 41,714 characters

𝒜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇 𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒: Edward Midford holds a special place in my heart (Other than Ciel and Elizabeth) as my favorite character from Black Butler. My admiration for him inspired me to craft a fanfic that had been brewing in my notes app. Typically, I enjoy keeping my fanfiction to myself, as it's a personal hobby. However, this particular story felt too good not to share, hence why I'm releasing it for everyone's enjoyment. Dive in and enjoy the read!

─────── ⋆⋅ ✵ ⋅⋆ ───────

Ciel Phantomhive was the central figure to Violeta Dalles, and reciprocally so. She, the elder stepsister, taken into the familial fold by the benevolence of his departed aunt, held steadfast in her care for Ciel. Her devotion knew no bounds, weaving a protective shield around him, shielding him from the sinister specters that shadowed their lineage.

Despite the vast expanse of Ciel's demands upon her daily routine, Violeta harbored a profound affection for her petite younger brother, whether traversing the busy streets or delving into intricate business matters, they invariably found themselves in each other's company.

However, not all hearts find solace in the adage, “Sharing is caring." Violeta's fianće, a man enamored named Edward Midford, harbors a disdain for such notions. His aversion to sharing stems from his devotion to Violeta, cultivated by his upbringing amidst the charm and novelty of Edward Midford's persona.

He resents any division of affection, especially when it concerns Ciel. Unlike Ciel, who possesses a sharp wit and unwavering determination, Edward embodies a different essence. He is the epitome of gentility, refined through years of refinement and endowed with a physique sculpted by rigorous training.

Despite the furrowed brow that graces his countenance and the faint traces of anxiety that linger upon his lips, his allure remains undeniable. Edward possessed a striking handsomeness that captivated all who beheld him. It was not merely Violeta's partiality that esteemed him so, but a universally acknowledged truth. One could not help but be drawn to the magnetic charm emanating from him whenever Violeta graced a room. 

His verdant gaze spoke volumes of affluence, while his smile, adorned in purest white, bespoke naught but graciousness. Yet, despite his godlike aura, Edward found himself overshadowed in the presence of his younger sister. As the eldest from different families, Edward, residing in Midford Manor, embodies the lineage and nobility of their family.

Similarly, Violeta commands respect within Phantomhive Manor, attending to her duties while Edward pursues education at Weston College. He prepares to inherit the Midford title and hone his fencing skills, while Violeta manages her medical clinic and company affairs, studying herbs and cultivating partnerships. Both play distinct roles in their respective spheres, contributing to their family's legacy and prosperity.

Edward and Violeta, weighed down by their duties, cautiously navigated society’s expectations to protect their family's reputation. They rarely have time alone, often surrounded by their younger sibling. Occasionally, they visit Phantomhive Manor where Elizabeth and Ciel, absorbed in their activities, leave little room for interaction. Instead, Edward and Violeta escape to the library for "literature sessions," where Edward assists Violeta with her interests, showcasing his broad knowledge.

If Elizabeth and Ciel were to unexpectedly witness the frequent instances of extended physical exercise, with clothes scattered about and Violeta positioned by the library bookshelf, it would surely stir up a considerable stir. Ciel, especially, would be plagued by images of Violeta backed against the wall, while Elizabeth would likely experience profound embarrassment over Edward’s conduct. 

Just picture their reaction if they were to uncover the true essence of those supposedly innocent "literature sessions" — how many of them were spent in intimate embraces, with hands exploring uncharted territories and passionate kisses exchanged.

Despite Edward's flushed appearance, Violeta always maintained a composed demeanor, seemingly unaffected by their behavior. In the dimly lit room inside the manor, Violeta and Edward found themselves engaged in a most discreet dalliance. "Edward, you’re being eager," Violeta implored, her words interrupted by Edward's insistent kisses. Secluded within the library, the door securely locked, she continued, "My dear—I do believe this is the most improper." 

But Edward, undeterred, merely smiled and traced the contours of her thighs with his fingertips. A blush graced his cheeks as he encountered the warmth of her skin beneath his touch. He couldn't help but feel grateful to the family seamstress, Nina, who had persuaded Violeta to don shorter attire for private gatherings within the household.

"In the morrow's light, I shall make my return to Weston College," he murmurs ere planting a tender kiss upon her nose. "A day in your company is what I crave." Violeta's countenance darkens with concern; she empathizes deeply with his plight. A man amidst companions of his sex for too long must surely long for a feminine touch, just as she yearns for his amidst her toil. "Very well," she concedes with a weary sigh.

Edward's lips brush against Violeta's exposed neck as he utters, “Thank you,” followed by a tender kiss. Leaning closer to her ear, his breath a gentle caress, he whispers, "I desire naught but to spend the ensuing hours tasting and fucking you, love.” In a fleeting moment, Violeta hesitates, her heart fluttering before she answers with a coy smile.

This was precisely what she desired to hear. She relished in the sensation of being wanted and yearned for by him. His words were akin to sweet nectar to her, and she found herself unable to resist his allure. “Mm, sounds delightful," she murmurs, her hand gliding up his shirt to caress his chest, "I crave nothing but you."

The intimacy shared between them was palpable as they exchanged words filled with longing and eager anticipation. Violeta's hand ventures up Edward's shirt, and he reciprocates by placing his hand atop hers, their fingertips brushing gently as they lock gazes, their eyes ablaze with fervent passion. Drawing her closer, he indulges in a deeper kiss, their breaths harmonizing as their hands explore each other's forms.

“So beautiful…” Edward whispers tenderly into her ear, his breath warm and urgent, his longing laid bare for her to see. Violeta almost feels like moaning, especially when his hands slide down her sides to her behind and he squeezes. He presses his body against hers, he's intoxicating in the best way possible. "Edward..." in his gallant manner, extends his hand to assist Violeta, guiding her to rest upon a nearby chair with utmost care. As she gazes somewhat bewildered at Edward, he lowers himself onto his knees, a gesture that prompts a flicker of apprehension within her. 

This isn't their first time, but he's never been so forward before. "W-what's gotten... into you?" Violeta pants as he cups her sex through her clothes. "Hmph." He hums against her leg before biting it gently. Yet, here this thought could fully take form, he proceeds with delicate precision to unfasten her shorts, easing them down with a gentle tug. Cool air tingles her skin as she is exposed in front of him. Ever the gentleman, Edward prioritizes Violeta's pleasure, ensuring her satisfaction is his own.

For her, the flames of desire seldom ignite; yet, she acquiesces to Edward's desires, finding solace in the relaxation it brings her weary limbs. For Edward, this exchange is a private communion, a bond shared solely between him and Violeta, veiled from prying eyes. He endeavors to reciprocate her pleasure with fervent ardor, and though success eludes him on occasion, his efforts remain unwavering. And so, Violeta observes with a softened gaze as he spreads her legs further apart and seats her upon the chair, a silent witness. 

Suddenly, a gentle flutter of kisses caressed the tender skin of her limbs ere a sly stroke befell her, landing upon her sensitive bud. Gradually, the sensation spread, engulfing her entirety. A muted sigh escaped her lips, prompting reflections on the countless dames who might have fancied such an encounter. Violeta observed Edward's moistening of a fold with a lapping tongue, her attempts at restraint manifesting in a muffled gasp, thus halting his motions.

With a puzzled expression, she inquired, "Hm, what’s wrong?” Edward's lips curved into a small pout, his expression conveying his disappointment, his hands resting on her ankles as he replied, “I wanna hear you, quietly though, don’t stop.” Edward murmured, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. Violeta's soft and silky skin had his senses tingling as he explored her body, his tongue circling her most sensitive areas with gentle pressure while his hands gently gripped her ankles to maintain her position.

"Mm," her back arching as he caressed her thighs, her body betraying her with a shudder of ecstasy as she gripped the chair. Her breath hitched as he teased her, his teasing was playful and arousing.��Violeta’s head leaned back, feeling him spread her, and she couldn't help but release soft moans of satisfaction as he continued. As her eyes closed, she relished the tender strokes that made her body tremble with pleasure. Violeta's fingers were buried in his hair as he kissed and licked her and she tilted her head back, her lips parted with a low moan.

Edward continued his exploration with a steady pace, allowing his fingers to take charge while his mouth followed his partner's reaction. He could tell she was on the verge of losing control, feeling close to the edge, the subtle change in her breathing and twitching of her limbs indicating just how close she was to climaxing. Her grip on his hair tightened, the sound of ecstasy escaping from her lips as she cried out, letting him know he'd reached the right spot.

Violeta bit her lip, her body a mass of sensations as he continued his thorough attention, causing her thighs to tremble, her fingers digging into his hair, her breathing shallow and erratic. Her hips bucked against his hand, sending waves of pleasure through her and a loud cry of pleasure leaving her lips. “Edward—shit…!” With a moan, her grip forced him roughly against her and threw back her head, her lips parting with a trembling exhale.

The feeling of Violeta's thighs tightening around his hand and her body writhing in pleasure was overwhelming. He was able to tell that she was in the throes of an intense orgasm, the sound of her vocalization filled him with a sense of satisfaction and pride. Green eyes lidded, the thick lashes barely dusting his cheeks, “That’s my girl.” His efforts had paid off in spades, and he continued his exploration with renewed vigor until finally, her hips stilled, and her breathing slowed, a clear sign he had sent her over the edge.

"What have you been learning at that school, Eddy?” Violeta couldn't help the laugh in her shaky exhale, "You're far more talented this time around…." Edward grinned shyly as his partner's laughter filled the room. His expression suggested he was slightly embarrassed as her words sunk in, though he also carried a quiet sense of pride. "Well... I've been practicing... with fruit.” He confessed with a sheepish giggle, his blush deepening.

“And I've been studying from a health book when I have free time," he explained, his voice growing quieter as he trailed off. Yet Violeta’s admission was accompanied by a sheepish grin, a clear sign of her amusement, "But perhaps," She added with a playful glint in her eye, "my absence has left you yearning for my company more than anything else?" Violeta couldn't suppress her laughter, her teasing tone filling the room with mirth.

Edward emitted a gentle chuckle, his lips curving into a playful grin upon hearing her accusation. "Well, my dear," he conceded with a jovial air, his gaze briefly meeting hers with a touch of longing. "It may be so," he added, teasingly. "Yet, you are the very cause of my vexation..." He jested, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "You fail to grasp the depth of my yearning for you..." Edward murmured, his voice growing huskier as he leaned in closer, his hands now resting on the chair's arms, subtly enclosing her.

"I have a feeling you'd like to make me realize" she grinned, running her fingers along his jawline, her touch gentle yet sensuous as her gaze met his. "I can think of a few ways you could help me understand how much you desire me" Violeta chuckled, her hand trailing down his neck before dropping to his chest as her touch became more possessive, her fingers gently squeezing his pecs as she leaned in closer.

Edward was unable to suppress a soft grunt of pleasure as her hand trailed down his body, sending shivers across his skin. He watched as those same fingers grazed his pecs, his body responding to every gentle squeeze with a small shiver of pleasure. Her touch was sensuous enough to make him ache with desire, his lips parting and his breath quickening. His gaze never left hers, his eyes filled with growing lust as he replied, "Show me..." Violeta’s gaze darkened as his lips parted in response to her teasing, his eyes fixed on her lips.

The corners of her mouth turned up into a mischievous grin as she leaned in closer, their breath warm against each other's faces. "Maybe I can convince you with a demonstration," she whispered, her lips gently brushing his in a subtle kiss before pulling away just enough that they were only inches apart. She let her gaze linger on his lips for a few moments before adding, "But I could always show you my other skills too.” Edward felt the blood rushing to his cheeks as her lips brushed his. Her whisper, her breath against his body, all of it was enough to ignite a flame of desire within him. 

“Please…” His voice begged and was hoarse as if the very words were struggling to escape his throat. His hands moved to her waist, sliding around her rear, grasping one of her cheeks in his hand, pulling her towards him. "I'd like to see everything you've learned too,” he breathed as the tip of his tongue grazed against her lower lip. She smiled and tilted her head in amusement, her body yielding to him as he gripped her hip, his hand gently squeezing her rear as he brought her closer to him.

Violeta's lips parted slightly as she watched the tip of his tongue graze her lower lip, and she bit her bottom lip lightly as she released a soft whimper. "Mmm," she muttered before kissing him back, her tongue gently pressing against his lips, her body pressing closely against his. She wanted to drive him wild with all the desires she knew he felt for her, she wanted to make him lose control. 

It wasn’t long before she lifted her leg still covered in black stocking clip to her garter and gently pushed him somewhat away with her foot on his crotch. Edward's jaw clenched as he groaned in response to her playful tease. His gaze fell upon her exposed leg, adorned with the delicate lace of her garter. A shadow of desire flickered across his features, darkening his eyes. With a swift motion, he grasped the back of his chair, seeking steadiness amidst the sudden surge of sensation.

"Aha," he exclaimed, his voice filled with a playful yet unmistakably suggestive undertone. “…you're going to pay for that.” His words carried a promise of retribution veiled in allure as he observed her with intent. Violeta in question, undeterred by his reaction, met his gaze with a mischievous grin. Her eyes traced the contours of his form, a smirk playing upon her lips as she discerned his captivation. 

In a swift maneuver, she slipped away from his grasp, evading his attempt to ensnare her within the confines of the chair. Before he could fully comprehend the turn of events, Edward found himself relegated to the seat she had just vacated, while she claimed her place right between his legs, “I always keep getting the best of you, Eddy.” Edward couldn't suppress the small groan that left his lips, finding himself caught in a game of cat and mouse.

The tables had been turned on him with a swiftness and precision that he couldn't help but admire. His gaze dropped, looking down at his beloved like she was his last supper. Violeta couldn't stifle a gentle laugh as she observed the change in Edward's demeanor, fully aware that her playful banter would only distance him further. She sensed Edward's admiration for her figure, which bolstered her sense of allure. 

With a delicate gesture, she traced her fingers along his leg, teasingly unbuckling his belt, then deftly undoing his pants button and zipper. Her gaze remained fixed on his reaction as his chest rose and fell with anticipation. "Is this your heart's desire, my dear? For me to pleasure you in this manner?" Edward's chest rose and fell with each frantic breath, his eyes fixed on her hands. It was all he could do to keep himself in check, his body shaking with anticipation and desire.

"Yes," he groaned, his voice hoarse with lust. "God... yes..." His eyes shifted towards her lips, his jaw clenched as he struggled to keep control of his lust. "Please. Take me. Take... all of me." He asked. "All of you?" a playful glint in her eyes as she delicately withdrew his member from its confinement, gently wafting a breath upon the moistened tip, adorned with the glisten of anticipation. 

With the grace of a dancer, her tongue ventured forth, tracing a path from base to crown, leaving a tantalizingly dry caress in its wake. A tender kiss followed, her lips bestowing upon his cock a soft embrace, her warm breath teasing its sensitive skin. As her excitement mounted, her breath grew shallow, her voice a mere whisper as she teased, "Are you sure you can handle me?" She asked. "Y-Yes," Edward mumbled before releasing a soft moan of pleasure.

His body trembling with the sensation of her soft caress, his eyes squeezed shut. The tender kiss she planted on his tip sent shivers down his spine, the feeling of her warm lips and breath against his sensitive skin was all he could think of in that moment. "You... want me to beg for it..," he rasped, his voice thick with desire, his eyes opening to find her gaze fixing on his cock with a sly grin.

"Maybe I do," she whispered, her eyes narrowing as she watched his reaction to her words, his breath catching in his throat as she let her fingers drift to the tip. She gently squeezed around him, taking her time to savor the moment, feeling him tremble in her grip. Her hand gripped harder, almost trying to squeeze him out. "Please... my love, let me fill you. he whispered, his cheeks reddened with desire, and his breathing quickened with each passing moment as she eased him to the edge.

The sensation of her hand squeezing around him was overwhelming, his eyes closing as his body quivered with anticipation, his fingers gripping the chair behind him. He leaned back into the chair, the soft cushion allowing him to feel fully immersed in her touch as he groaned, a quiet whimper escaping his lips. His reaction made her body tingle with pleasure, and she could feel herself growing wet more. She loved the way he begged for her, the way he surrendered himself to her touch. 

In his reaction, she discerned a reflection of her ardor. Without hesitation, she took him into her mouth, engulfing him almost to the root, skillfully applying pressure with her lips around his member, all the while meeting his gaze with an intensity that bespoke her passion sucking in the same motion. Edward was in quite a state, his frame trembling as he rested in her grasp, his breath coming fast and shallow.

Violeta found herself taken aback by the scene before her. It's worth noting, that persuading him to allow her such intimate favors was no easy feat; only after a well-delivered presentation would he relent. Yet, despite this, it was evident that once Violeta began to indulge him with her attentions, Edward was entirely enraptured. His reactions betrayed his true feelings; he simply adored the sensation of her lips, tongue, and hands exploring his cock in such an improper manner. 

In those moments, Edward found himself utterly unable to contain his vocal expressions or physical responses. It wasn't merely the feeling of her mouth upon him that stirred him so, but also the delicate caresses of her hands upon his testicles and inner thighs that held a particular allure for him. "Here, dear, it's yours," Edward said, gently clasping her tight curls as he drew her near. Sensing her rhythm, he gazed down at her with a look of utter astonishment. His eyes gleamed with admiration, and he nervously nibbled on his lower lip.

Taking this as a sign of encouragement, Violeta quickened her movements, easing her jaw to accommodate him with each thrust. There was a moment of discomfort as she gagged, prompting her to withdraw momentarily. With a deft motion of her hand, she attended to him briefly before resuming her task. This pattern persisted until tears welled in her eyes and saliva trickled down her chin. Each time she glanced up at him, Edward would sigh deeply, tightening his grasp on her locks.

"Vi," Edward cautioned, "Be careful now, you don’t want them to find out about us, don’t push your luck." Violeta merely rolled her eyes and let out a weary sigh. She was well aware of the stakes, for they had oft-discussed the matter when not engaged in their clandestine rendezvous. Their younger kin remained oblivious to their amorous liaisons, a truth they were keen to preserve. Still, Violeta found herself disinclined to dwell on such matters, especially when she held Edward in her thrall.

It was all too effortless to stir his passions, and an impassioned Edward possessed an intimate knowledge of how to please his beloved Violeta. Over time, they had refined their amorous routine into a playful contest, with the fair-haired Violeta proving herself a most adept player. Indeed, Edward understood well her penchant for games, though Violeta would never openly confess that victory came to him effortlessly.

In a brief interlude of silence, Edward and Violeta engaged in a wordless exchange, their eyes meeting in a playful duel. A chuckle escaped Edward's lips before he resigned, "I suppose it cannot be avoided." Eventually, he halted her advance, gently separating her from him, his breaths labored. "Come here,” he murmured, prompting Violeta to rise from her kneeling position, standing upright and dabbing at the moisture upon her countenance.

The act lacked allure at the moment, yet his gaze bestowed upon her a sense of singular significance, as though she alone possessed the power to kindle his happiness. He tenderly brushed away tears from her cheek before claiming her lips in a fervent kiss, emitting a low groan in the exchange. His arousal still evident, his member pressed against her leg ere he withdrew. A somber intensity returned to his gaze as he issued his command, “Take the rest of your garments off please."

She couldn't help but give him a playfully annoyed look as he halted her advances, but with his command, that look quickly shifted to excitement as she quickly began taking everything off. Her blouse, even her stockings were discarded like garbage as if she had an insatiable hunger for him. Her fingers quickly found their way to the hooks on her corset and quickly undid them, letting her breasts fall free, her nipples hard and inviting him to touch and squeeze them. He was a slave to her charms, her ability to make him feel alive, every inch of her body made him crave her.

His gaze was locked on her, the sight of her bare breasts drove him wild. He felt his breath quicken as she allowed those same fingers to slowly tease and squeeze her nipples, her warm breath against his neck making him moan out loud. He watched her closely, eagerly awaiting her next move.

She knew he was enjoying the view, and she couldn't help but tease him more. Her hands left her breasts and she lifted one leg to wrap it around his waist, her hand gripping his shoulder as he leaned back in his chair and she began grinding herself against him. She enjoyed watching the effect she was having on him, watching his face as his eyes darkened and his breath quickened. "You really want to see me take you for a ride?" she whispered softly into his ear.

Edward couldn't resist the urge to grunt eagerly, her movements sending quivers through his body. A shiver of pleasure traveled up his spine as she sensually whispered into his ear. "More than anything..." He groaned, his hand gently squeezing her hip, his eyes searching hers for confirmation of her desire. This moment made her think, Sometimes it sucked not being able to boast about how intimately he knew Edward, especially when the heated flesh of his cock pressed firmly under her. 

Heat pooled deep within Violeta, and she didn't even need to see the begging eyes of delight to know his cock twitched. For a gentleman so proper, he could be filthy when it came to these stolen moments. There was an emotional value there, daresay a connection between the two that neither could be ashamed of. “That’s what I thought,” she purred, slowly rising his throat and taking his lips in a deep kiss. Her hips still moved against his body, her soft breath drifting against his neck and over his chin.

Violeta pulled back, her lips tracing lightly along the lower edge of his chin before whispering, “You know what to do,” Edward, with a knowing glance, deftly adjusted his position, maintaining his seat in the chair as he gently raised Violeta's hips, pivoting her away from him, and settled her onto his lap. This was a familiar arrangement for them, one they favored for its intimacy and ease. 

Violeta observed as Edward guided himself inside her, a sensation that initially startled her, prompting her to stifle any inadvertent sounds that might draw unwanted attention. She felt Edward's breath tickling her neck as she reclined against his chest, his whispered reassurance prompting her to relax completely in his embrace. "Take deep breaths, my dear," Edward murmured, his words a balm to her nerves.

Violeta yielded to him, melting into his arms, her body responding with a subtle quiver as he entered her warmth. Looking down, she noted the slight stretch he caused, a testament to their closeness. The gentle trickle of her slick, which Edward had elicited earlier, performed marvels as he decided to draw a tad nearer. There was never a twinge of pain, but rather a sensation of complete fulfillment Violeta could never tire of, the graze of his cock against her inner walls as she withdrew, only describable as serene. Fuck. 

Violeta was indeed fortunate to have Edward. He proved to be quite the benefactor to her. Strong enough to accommodate the curvy and thickness of her body, and yes, on occasion, he would plead with her, like earlier, yet he never coerced her; he never became voracious or aggressive. No matter how yielding and compliant, Edward never usurped pleasure from Violeta's form. He worked alongside it, his hips swaying in cautious and modest circles, merely grounding thrusts as he delved deeper into her wet warmth. 

As he tenderly places his hands on her thighs, he shifts his weight to gauge her response. "You're thriving, my love," he murmurs. Edward leans in, trying various angles to optimize comfort. "Just look at you," he exhales softly, trailing his lips along her bare skin. "You smell divine, taste exquisite, and feel so incredibly good..." His words hang in the air, met only by silence. Peering down at her serene face, he watches her breaths. With gentle concern, he urges, "Vi, please, speak to me, my darling."

The pace stilled for a moment, not having even met him as deep as he could, before Edward's hips transfixed every time Violeta clenched, her walls pulsating around him, against him, feeling every curve of the cock inside her more intimately than before. “Mmm,” was her only response, her breath slowly building in her throat as she felt every bit of the impact he was having on her. Her limbs were trembling slightly and her breathing was slightly ragged, as he was pushing all the right buttons.

Her fingers laced together and she dug her nails lightly into the back of his neck, her body was responding to his every move. "You feel…," she hesitated as she tried to choose the right word. "You so feel perfect," she whispered. Edward moved with deliberate care and precision, his every action measured and intentional. He relished each moment spent with her, reveling in her warmth and the way she responded to his touch. 

As he held her thigh, he was overwhelmed by the sensation of her tightening around him. Her words stirred a deep desire within him, making him yearn for her presence. In her company, he felt whole, as if nothing else mattered. This moment felt distinct, different from any before it. Perhaps it was the intensity of their kisses, Violeta eagerly meeting his lips. Their shared moans were masked by the rhythmic sound of their bodies colliding, echoing through the room.

A part of him hoped that Ciel—not his dearest sister, Elizabeth would stumble upon them. Just the mere thought of someone witnessing Violeta's stunning beauty, her legs gracefully parting in a manner that revealed her intimacy, ignited a fiery sensation deep in his core. Seeing someone like Ciel observing as his beloved older sister's form twisted around Edward, embracing his size as if it were custom-made for her, stirred a possessive feeling within him.

"Vi, you're so tight—does it feel good, my love?" Edward said between breaths, sensing Violeta's erotic tension. He could tell she was struggling, tears starting to well up in her eyes, likely reddening them and flushing her cheeks, something she despised. The outline of Edward's erection was becoming visible against the small indents of her stomach.

She must have appeared distressed, yet Edward gazed at her with immense adoration, almost as if it were unreal. "Yes," she whispered softly, her body twitching every time he would thrust a little harder into her warm depths. She squeezed him tightly, her breathing quickening as they both were nearing their limit. Her eyes remained closed as she attempted to concentrate on her pleasure. 

Edward pressed his chest to Violeta’s back, splitting her further apart, sinking deeper in her than before, "You feel so good to me. Every time is better than the last." Edward added. "I want this all the time, just for you,” Violeta whispered, clearly catching Edward off guard, not that it stopped his rhythm. If anything, her confession was met with a few pointedly hard thrusts, the pressure against her walls electrifying her in only the best ways.

Slowly, the sensations began to become too much to bear and she began trembling uncontrollably, squeezing herself around him as her body finally began erupting, her breath hitching as she came. Violeta giggled, her movements sluggish from the intoxicating rush of pleasure coursing through her muscles. With unsteady hands, she clumsily grasped Edward's flushed face, pivoting her entire body to meet his gaze. 

Her thumbs meandered lazily over his lips, tracing the contours of his mouth where the remnants of their passionate kisses lingered. Every touch was an attempt to connect with him on a deeper level, to immerse herself fully in the sensation of his presence. Edward's gaze never failed to evoke feelings of love and admiration whenever it met Violeta's eyes. As she sighed dreamily, she reached out to gently touch the defined line of Edward's jaw, feeling the tension in his muscles, a result of his clenched teeth.

With a softness in her voice, barely louder than a whisper, she murmured, "Eddy…” Despite the gentle tone, her question carried weight. "You haven't come, have you?" As his body suddenly warmed up, he glanced at her with concern and asked, "Are you certain...?" He knew from his readings that he could potentially father a child with her, but he hesitated because they weren't due to be married for several months, making it seem like a less prudent decision.

Violeta laughed softly, her body gently relaxed as she laid her head onto his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “You are too much.” Her lips teased his neck, her fingers lightly grazing down his chest. “Don’t worry, I can prevent such a thing.” she breathed out, her voice slightly breathy to convey her exhaustion. Her thumb rubbed gently against his lips as the other hand traveled around his torso, her fingers lightly tracing the lines of his muscles.

"Mmm..." he growled out, his grip tightening around her waist just a bit more as he pressed his stomach against hers. "I-I'd rather not take that chance," he breathed out, a mix of frustration and pleasure coursing through his veins. Despite his desire to release himself into her, he wouldn't take that risk. 

As she trailed her fingers along his body, his breath hitched, his entire body trembling in response to her actions. Her touch set a spark, one that could only be extinguished by her lips, and he pulled her into a deeper embrace. Violeta chuckled and nuzzled into his chest as she lay on top of him, her body still trembling slightly from the intense ecstasy she had just experienced moments ago.

She sighed softly and closed her eyes, trying to regain her composure after being thoroughly demolished by his prowess. She began softly kissing his chest, her hands drifting down his back, caressing his muscles, and massaging him as she tried to help him relax. "I'm afraid I won't be satisfied until you finish what you started," she teased playfully. "So you better hurry before I take matters into my own hands."

"If you're going to take matters into your own hands..." his breathing became heavier, his hands tightening once more around her waist, and he leaned his head against her chest as he spoke in a husky tone. "Well... I'll certainly finish quickly." Violeta smiled softly as she heard his response, her eyes opening as her lips met his neck once more. “You say this but then you’ll probably last much longer than you think,” she taunted playfully.

“And who knows? You have quite a lot of stamina.” Her breath trailed down lower, landing on his chest and resting there for a few seconds before she began gently nibbling on his earlobe. “I hope you can finish quickly because I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”

"Is that a challenge, my love?" he breathed out, his hands slipping down to the curves of her behind as he pulled her close once more. "Because I believe you underestimate just how quick I can be...if you give me a reason." His words were punctuated by the soft nibbling of her lips on his neck, causing him to squirm in pleasure.

His breath became quickened, his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest as he felt her body pressed tightly against his own, her breath warming his neck. Violeta smirked and let a low moan escape her lips, pressing her body even closer to his as she began softly kissing his neck. She ran her hands along his back and squeezed his butt cheeks gently to drive him crazy. Her fingers traced down his spine, her body trembling slightly in pleasure. 

“Is this enough reason?” she whispered, her lips trailing down his neck. “Let’s see just how quick you can be then.” She added. "Mmmm," he moaned softly, he felt his body tense up. Her lips kissing his neck drove him wild, her warm breath stirring him up, her teasing bringing him to a point of no return.

As his grip tightened around her hips, he felt a surge of urgency coursing through him, his breathing quickening and his heart pounding. With a sense of determination, he pressed his lips against her neck in a series of intense kisses, his teeth lightly grazing her pulse point. With each thrust, he pulled her body closer to his, his desire driving him to penetrate deeper.

At that moment, he was consumed by passion, oblivious to any consequences. The marks left behind or his state of being were of no concern as he continued to indulge in their intimate exchange. As their kisses lingered, eliciting desperate moans from Violeta, he pressed her against the library shelf, causing a few books to tumble to the ground.

With her legs wrapped around his hips, they surrendered to the intensity of their connection, drawing closer together in their shared desire. Violeta threw her head into Edward’s chest, her fingers clawing desperately on Edward’s back, knowing his other classmates would see the scratch marks across his tone back. Her hips frantically convulsed the fluttering in her stomach so dangerously close she couldn't hold anything back. 

The loud whines and erotic moans were nothing like the Violeta everyone else knew. Assertive and hard-working, never allowed any man to even go near her. Yet her tears rolled down her cheeks as her throat ran ragged with how desperately she gasped for air; the moans caught in her throat only escaping in loud, effeminate mewls. No one would have suspected she would use her soft-spoken vocal cords he had been lucky to have for such dirty, unbecoming things. 

A deep growl escaped from Edward’s lips as his pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent and intense, his grip on her thigh tightening before releasing it entirely. His hands found a comfortable grip on her hips, his movements slow and steady as he pushed deeper, a few strokes away from climaxing. When her body began to tighten, clench, and quiver, Edward pulled her into his arms, holding her tenderly as she came.

The momentum didn't end, only sloppy from exhaustion as Edward chased his release. He kept going, the way she was pressed against him, shaking and trembling with pleasure, the feel of her walls squeezing him like a vice was like nothing he had ever experienced before. He was overwhelmed, his breaths becoming quick and shallow. "Ah.. ah god..." He moaned, his body starting to feel like it would tear apart.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his breathing quickening, a slight moan escaping his lips. "Oh god... I'm so close…” As Violeta felt the intensity building within her, she was unfazed by the raw sensation. She couldn't be bothered, not when the person above her continued to show her affection. At that moment, all that mattered to Violeta was Edward. It was as if they were the only two people in existence. She kissed his neck and softly pleaded for release. 

Edward responded by kissing her passionately, his muscles tense, and his breaths becoming more primal. The low, seductive tone of their exchange drowned out everything else around them. "Eddy," Violeta whispered, "Please, Eddy." Edward's hips faltered, the head of his cock pressed sharply against the tight, sensitive walls, and he came with a tremble.

It was cute, Violeta mused, just how shy he could get, knowing how Edward preferred to press himself closer so that their chests aligned as his breath regulated, waiting patiently until he could move comfortably. Violeta had offered Edward an explanation, claiming that she preferred him to stay until his muscles relaxed for comfort, after he slipped up and mentioned it.

But truthfully, she enjoyed feeling her insides soaked with his cum, relishing the aftershocks of his twitching cock inside her. She found solace in the idea that Edward belonged to her in a way no one else could claim.

“You okay…?” Violeta asked with gentle eyes, pressing soft kisses across his face. "Mm..." he breathed out, still gasping for breath, his body pressed against hers as his muscles slowly relaxed. His hands trailed down her back, and he was relieved as the tightness in his chest faded. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he looked up at her, his eyes glinting with affection.

"You took me for a ride." Violeta beamed as she saw the sparkle in his eyes. Her soft and tender touch was replaced by a playful squeeze of his arms, as she beamed at him once more. "It's my specialty." Her voice was teasing, playful as ever. "I can't help it if I make you go wild," she breathed out softly. A moment passed as she watched him, her eyes searching his own, before she leaned in and whispered. "I love seeing you like this," she breathed out softly, her tone serious and sincere, "it makes me feel powerful."

"I know it is," he breathed out softly, her playful squeeze sending shivers up his spine. Her touch was teasing yet tender, almost as if she couldn't help stirring him up. When she leaned in and whispered, he couldn't help but grin at her words. "I love that you love seeing me like this," he breathed, his fingers gently stroking her hips. "It makes me feel... so good inside." When she finished, he brushed his lips over hers, his gaze never leaving her eyes.

"I want you to always feel powerful, even in my arms." Violeta let out a contented sigh, one hand reaching up to gently brush his locks away from his face, as her hand rested on his cheek. She knew her face showed too much of the love she held when she met Edward's eyes and could see a future in them, “You know, there'll come a day when you’re stressed, I’m always here for you." He didn't even need to hear the promise when Edward leaned in and kissed her once more.

"I know you will be," he breathed out softly, a little smile on his lips. It was the one thing he could count on her support, her devotion, and her endless love. He brought her close to him, one hand holding her close to his chest, the other gently playing with her hip. "And there's nowhere I'd rather be than in your arms." As his lips met hers, he gently brushed her hair away from her face, his gaze searching hers as he breathed against her.

"Promise me you'll always choose me," he whispered. Her heart ached with affection when he smiled that warm and tender look at her. There was no one in this world, man or woman, she loved more than him. He was her entire world and she felt safe, warm in his embrace. "I promise," she breathed out softly, feeling his fingertips running lightly along her hips. "I will always—always, choose you," she breathed out. "You're all mine."

─────── ⋆⋅ ✵ ⋅⋆ ───────

[luvhards]

 application :

✧˚  ༘  ⋆｡˚  well,  well…  it  appears  that  aria  eden-west  will  be  a  part  of  new  york's  social  season  once  more  !  according  to  guildsource,  the  twenty  -  seven  year  old  is  most  known  for  being  an  heir  to  a  jewelry  empire  /  youtube  show  host  &  magazine  editor  ,  and  is  constantly  spotted  hanging  around  the  brew  club  —  seems  as  if  you've  heard  of  them,  too.  they  initially  made  a  splash  on  the  gossip  site  after  falling  down  the  steps  at  the  met  gala  ,  and  they've  been  the  center  of  attention  ever  since.  the  public  tends  to  view  them  as  being  nosey  and  critical,  but  people  close  to  them  say  they're  actually  captivating  and  thoughtful…  i'll  believe  it  when  i  see  it.  they  tend  to  remind  me  of  the  glossy  coat  on  the  pages  of  a  magazine  ,  the  blinding  sparkle  of  a  jewel  when  it  hits  that  perfect  spot  of  sunlight  ,  the  warmth  of  tequila  as  it  slides  down  your  throat  &  the  comfort  of  throwing  on  your  favorite  youtube  video  while  eating  a  meal  .  which  says  the  most  about  them.  i  wonder  if  they'll  be  seen  wearing  their  tiffany  &  co.  elsa  peretti  open  heart  necklace  to  the  social  events  this  year,  but  nevermind  all  that.  the  social  season  is  upon  us,  and  guildsource  is  always  watching.

statistics :

faceclaim  :  dua  lipa  name  :  aria  catherine  eden  -  west  birthday  :  april  eighteenth   birthplace  :  london  ,  england   age  :  twenty  -  seven   occupation  :  magazine  editor  ,  interviewer  &  youtube  show  host   education : bachelor’s in film and media studies from columbia. height  :  five  feet  ,  eight  inches   scent  :  dolce  &  gabanna  light  blue 

family heritage :

aria eden west is the newest carat in her family’s gold lineage, next in line to the throne of her family’s crown jewel , weston co.  founded by catherine west , weston co. was risen from the ground up , determined to give the ‘ every day woman ‘ access to jewelry that was both stylish and durable , allowing them to pay no mind to the usual wear and tear that came with being a twentieth century housewife . j.c penney was the first to invest , lining their accessories sections with their first ( and what would soon become their most famous ) cuff bracelet , an indisputable hit during the holiday season which made penney’s rich and catherine even richer . weston co. only blossomed from there , over the next hundred years she’d break the glass ceiling of the j.c penney’s jewelry section , open her own boutiques , little by little inching closer to the edge of rodeo drive where the weston co. now resides with the rest of the world’s greatest designers . weston co. prides itself on being made for women , by women — though , now it’s certainly popular and amongst anyone who enjoys fine jewelry — so the company now rests in the hands of eleanor eden - west , and eventually , it will become aria’s too .  ( weston co. is equivalent to a brand like cartier or tiffany & co. )

some lore about aria’s signature jewelry : the weston co. ( hehe ) open heart necklace in silver and gold is now an archival piece , released for a limited time in the late mid 2000s as an ode and celebration of the re-marriage of eleanor west and thomas eden .  west women are notorious for wearing almost exclusively gold jewelry , so the heart in gold is meant to represent both aria and her mother while the heart in silver symbolizes thomas , the two welded together in ( almost ) perfect matrimony . along with the necklace , she can almost always be seen wearing a random assortment of rings on her fingers , never so many to the point where it gets cluttered but there’s always at least one on her hands at all times . 

past :

you grow up with the world at your fingertips . everything you want is given to you before you have to so much as ask . it’s the typical life that’s afforded to a child like you , educated in the nation’s best private schools , never without the newest toys or latest book in whatever series you were obsessed with at any given time ( some even before they were released to the public ) . it’s comfortable , you’re comfortable , but why does that make you feel so guilty ?

technically the first “ true “ nepotism baby in your family considering that your mother didn’t get to reap the benefits of weston co.’s success until she was well in her 40s and your father built his entire career from the ground up . not that you’re complaining , people would kill for this life and you know that you’re lucky to live it . you don’t resent it , in fact you cherish it , but you can’t help from asking yourself one thing : what have you done to deserve this ?  a question both you and the tabloids seem to keep asking .

you want more out of life , as grateful as you are for your parent’s support you feel terrible taking it from them — is it true what everyone says ? would you really be nothing without your family name ? going to college feels like the only way to get away from it all , to silence that voice in your head that tells you the only thing you’ll ever have to show for yourself is a company you don’t even really own . you go to columbia , but not without scrutiny . impossible not to overhear the whispers of your peers that swear they have you pieced together , that are completely certain your family’s name ( or perhaps their generous donation ) is the only reason you’ve made it this far . they put a chip on your shoulder , and it’s only up to you to figure out how to get it off . 

you make two friends while you’re in college , it’s all you can really afford as someone who spends as much time in the library as you — one on occasion they quite literally had to drag you out of there kicking and screaming . you spend your first two years completely immersed in your studies , trying to prove to everyone ( read : yourself ) that there’s more to you than what your parents have given you , that you’re smart , independent , worth something on even your own .

it’s not until your senior year that you find the thing that would eventually become your life’s purpose . céline was meant to be nothing more than your final project , a theoretical magazine complete with three articles on art , entertainment and current events that was supposed to be for your professors eyes only . but you’ve never found yourself work so hard at something in your life , not only determined to make your final project your best one yet but actually interested in the process at hand . you found yourself excited to go home to write an research , so many nights spent watching the sun rise while you fooled around indesign tweaking the smallest details until they sat just right on the page . 

you’re not quite ready to own a company yet , the thought of inheriting the one that’s had your name signed on it sign the day you were born still sometimes makes you feel sick , so you’ll have to find another way to turn this into something more sustainable for the person you are right now .

you reach out to a couple of friends who reach out to a couple of friends and before you know it you’re being asked to pitch an idea for a youtube series , one that puts a new edge on the predictable world of celebrity interviews — and thus , pub crawl is born . it’s probably not the best idea , inviting celebrities for a day of recorded and publicized drinking all while asking them questions about their lives and careers , but maybe that’s exactly the point . pub crawl becomes an instant success , rising to viral fame after tom holland came to the show and completely spoiled the upcoming avengers movie after he’d gotten tripped up by one of your tricky questions . 

it’s been a hit ever since , each season only growing bigger and bigger until you find yourself being invited to interview celebrities at the red carpet of some of entertainment’s biggest events . people love you , they find your interviewing insightful yet playful , flirtatious yet elegant , captivating in every way as is obvious by the millions of views garnered by your interviews at the grammy’s , oscars and of course , the met gala .

you get three seasons deep into pub crawl before you realize that though hosting this show makes you happy , it doesn’t make you feel complete . sure , it’s fun picking your guests brains about their most recent projects but it doesn’t feel like enough . you want to talk about what’s really going on in the world , about art , history , fashion , design , and give voice to the people who do it best . so  , céline is pulled back out from the depths of your google drive , an dream you’re now determined to make into a reality especially now that you have all of the resources to do it on your own . for the next year , any time that isn’t spent filming pub crawl is dedicated to turning cèline into the publication it’s meant to be , gathering a team of writers , editors and designers to make certain that it lives up to the potential you’ve always known it had .

it’s been a year since it’s official launch , and while most of the reception has been positive you definitely won’t be winning a pulitzer any time soon . the critics sound like a broken record , dubbing céline as yet another passion project by an out of touch product of nepotism baby funded by money that was never yours in the first place . you’re tired of feeling like you have to prove yourself to people , trying to make them see that your worth is in more than just who you are, but what you can do — so , you stop trying to .

[allthingsdarkanddirty]

🎉🎉COMING SOON!🎉🎉

SHIELDING MAYA is coming from PJ Fiala December 21st! Check out the small town protector romance and be sure to pre-order today!

Pre-Order: https://geni.us/ShieldingMaya-All

~*~

USAT author PJ Fiala, brings you the next generation of GHOST operatives set in the small-town of Glen Hollow, Kentucky, where a long-standing rivalry is brewing into an all out war, and love comes calling even in the worst of times.

GHOST: Government Hidden Ops Specialty Team. They eliminate the threat when no one else can.

She’s a tough as nails GHOST operative.

He’s next in line to lead his people into the future.

Life turns deadly for both of them after they witness a murder.

Maya Sager is far from being a girlie girl. She grew up preferring combat boots and tactical gear to shiny shoes and frilly dresses, much to her proper grandmother’s chagrin. Maya loved and admired her mama and daddy, and wanted to follow in their honorable footsteps. Moving to Glen Hollow, Kentucky with her family of GHOST operatives gave Maya the chance to make her parents proud while fulfilling her childhood dream. Then she witnesses something she shouldn’t and her world is turned upside down.

Jasiah Weston was born and raised on the Hill overlooking Glen Hollow, Kentucky. With his father on his deathbed, Jasiah is next in line to be President of his people. To solidify his place as leader, he must guide them through a peaceful merger with the residents of the small town below. When he and a tough yet gorgeous, GHOST operative towny, witness a murder, they are targeted for death.

Jasiah is determined to peacefully resolve old conflicts and bring the two towns together. But can he succeed while Shielding Maya from hostilefactions with enough power to destroy the United States?

***

Entire series complete!

USA Today bestselling author PJ Fiala brings you the full and complete GHOST Legacy series—heroes willing to sacrifice everything in service to their country, and for the women they love. Full length novel with no cliffhanger, no cheating, and a happily-ever-after guaranteed.

[barkskins]

before they knew it, they were back to how they were when they first met. out on the open road, with only each other for company. the difference there was that the pair of them were now married, and had plans brewing in the backs of their minds; steal what they needed, skip town, and continue to the coast. west felt invincible—he had grown that way, like a twisted vine. with the influence and money that his father held, he would flash his billfold and, in and instant, west was let free from a night in jail with little more than a slap on the back of the wrist. why would today be any different? his father wasn't there, but that didn't make weston any less of a graves. such a thought brought a palpable sickness to his mouth. "i don't know all that much about guns either, but as long as it shoots and goes boom i can't complain. its not like we're going to be using it. i'd buy one from the kids aisle if we could get away with it being bright green." but they needed their gun to be believable, to threaten the staff enough to give up the beautiful rings and necklaces made bespoke for the richest families of the midwest. after an hour or so on the road, america as americans did best, west slowed as he saw a large, handmade cardboard sign: guns here! "wait in the car." he spoke, leaning to kiss naomi as he disappeared into the building. a few moments later, he was striding back to the vehicle with a plastic bag wrapped around something cold, hard, shiny. @daringsunflowers

naomi felt like she was living in some fantasy. none of it felt real, the way west had loved her and  the way she loved him and they hadnt even been together long.. now married, and their nights after the wedding in the hotel for their honeymoon was nothing short but amazing. most of it had been spent getting to know each others bodies. by now naomi was confident she knew where the very last freckle on his nude body was.   naomi knew from this moment on she would follow him to edge of the earth.. to hell and back. it didnt matter how dangerous or out right ridiculous his plans were she would be right there beside him hand in hand. sure him having a ring seemed a little silly to rob for one but not to naomi. she wanted the world to know that he was hers and he deserved the best.  

when he had reassured her that everything would be fine and nothing bad could happen how could she not believe him? she kissed him back. she hadnt wanted to leave the bed, this was a perfect enough life for her. just him and her in a bad for the rest of her life. as she moved off the bed, “yeah of course.i trust you. whatever we need to do..” she had slipped off for one last shower while he loaded up and returned the key. she needed one last hot shower and then she dressed meeting him in the passenger side of the truck. “i know nothing about gun.” naomi confessed to him. “so really it is whatever you think is best… i think i want a necklace.  “ she touched her bare neck. “with someone shiny that hangs a little between here.” her fingers trailing down her chest before putting them back in her lap. “like a diamond or something.” she looked his way. “we just look for the most expensive pieces, will bring the most money.”

[tiny-maus-boots]

Queen of Hearts pt 13

A/N: Always and first thank you to my bestie @chloes-yellow-cup for always doing the thing. and to @kimmania who always gives each chapter a thoughtful review. 

13.  

“Oh, my dear it’s so lovely of you to come to brunch. I was starting to feel a little put off you know. All those invitations you so politely refused. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

Stacie smiled and sipped her cool iced tea to give herself a moment. It was true, she had ignored all of Edith’s requests to have lunch. And yes, she had been avoiding the older woman. It was a matter of self-preservation really. Keeping up the appearance of normality around someone as observant as Edith Roussard-Ford was never easy. She had a keen eye and open ear to everything that happened to the biggest families in society.

“Well…I suppose I can be frank with you. Now…that things are…resolved.”

The old woman across from her nodded encouragement and leaned forward eager for any tidbit she could glean from Stacie. It was necessary even she’d rather not talk about life with Weston. When dealing with Edith you had to give some to get some.

“Of course, my dear. Dreadful business…”

“It was hard to get away…often times my only haven was my work. Weston was…” Stacie trailed off and cleared her throat. It wasn’t acting, the rush of anxiety she experienced just thinking about that time robbed her of speech. “Weston Whitman was a very controlling man. Controlling and more often than not…violent.”

It never got any easier admitting the truth of things but she raised her chin defiantly. Edith’s eyes widened slightly but her surprise was more about Stacie admitting it than the confirmation itself. She waited a beat for the other woman to ask what she knew was coming.

“Oh, dreadful. Just dreadful. And still…you never knew? There wasn’t a hint of suspicion about his true character?”

“Of his character, yes. Of his actual coming and goings and affairs…no. I had no knowledge of those terrible things. I shudder to think of him, under my roof, sleeping next to me self-satisfied with the blood of innocent women on his hands. What a joke I must have been to him with my work at the shelter, helping him keep up the façade unknowingly.”

“To think nothing of the scandal about the money.”

Of course, the money was far more important a topic than her public humiliation and shame. Stacie let her gaze drop demurely. Money was everything in this world, who had it, who needed it, and who stole it…

“I’ll admit Edith, I had some concerns about Weston’s business. He seemed edgy and evasive and he asked me to empty my personal safe…spending cash. Some jewelry. It was nothing that would ever pay back his investors.”

“I heard the federal agents seized everything. It’s a wonder you have a roof over your head, my dear.”

Stacie’s smile was brief and coy. “Much like oil and water, money and love simply do not mix. When you’re a Conrad you learn that at quite a young age.”

Edith leaned back to watch her carefully. Weighing all that she had learned and the earnestness in which Stacie had conveyed it. She could see the respect dawn in Edith’s gaze and when the woman leaned forward again it was with eager confidence.

“You may be a Conrad in name but you are Helene’s daughter in more than appearance. Your father barely had a nickel to his name when she ran off with him. Now there’s a scandal for you!”

It was surprising and Edith laughed gleefully when it showed on her face. She’d been raised her whole life on the presumption that her mother hand done what she had been expected to do. Money marries into money.

“Didn’t know that did you? She might have run off with August but she was no fool. Van der Berg family lawyers ensured he couldn’t take a dime of it.” Interesting. Stacie made a soft thoughtful sound and Edith continued unprompted. “You have to hand it to August. He made a name for himself. All that money is his by right…I suppose.”

Stacie’s brows came up and she tipped her head to the side. “You sound doubtful of that Edith.”

“I wouldn’t dream of speaking ill of your father, dear. I know you’re not close but there are some bonds that can’t be broken. Family bonds. You understand. I wouldn’t want you to have different opinions of your father. He’s done well by your mother.”

It was there, below the surface, begging to brought into the open. Stacie could feel it between them, brewing like a great storm. One little flicker of interest and it would come out. And then things would change forever between Stacie and August Conrad. And with that she was sure the tentative and fragile bridge she and her mother were building.

But if she were really like her mother, Helene would understand why she was doing this. At least that is what she hoped if this all ever came to light. Stacie let out a soft sigh and leaned back. She couldn’t out right ask about it, it had to be done delicately. Edith watched her work through the knowledge that there was something going on that she hadn’t been aware of. It was a careful dance baiting the woman to reveal more than what Stacie herself had given.

“Well, whatever my father is or is not doing, it’s nothing I know about. He and Weston shared that in common.”

“Ah yes. Thick as thieves those two…”

There it was. The hook Edith thought she was dropping in the water. Stacie batted her eyes in mild confusion, ignoring the slightly predatory smile on the old woman’s face. Her lip pouted out just enough to give the impression that she wasn’t making the leap entirely. Stacie smiled inwardly as Edith swallowed her own lure.

“Mind you, I’m not saying August is a thief, he’s merely an opportunist you see. He’s very good at knowing who to know. It’s how he made his fortune through the years. Nothing illegal in it exactly. Most would say it’s a shrewd bit of business.”

“But I don’t see how that could help him benefit from Weston’s…activities. Of course, he knows everyone, he’s a politician.”

“Hm indeed, indeed. Of course, he wouldn’t be involved in any such thing. Strike it from your thoughts, my dear.” The woman brushed a hand over her knuckles, and not for the first time during the conversation. Aubrey probably would have called the tell earlier but Stacie was proud of herself for picking it up now. “In any case I am quite sure Senator Grant and Warren Randall would lean very heavily on your father if they felt he was in any way responsible for Weston stealing their money.”

Stacie’s heart beat double time but she rolled her shoulders casually in a shrug. Jackson Grant and Warren Randall were her father’s closest confidants, present at every family function since as far back as she could remember. Uncle Jack had even gifted her the first horse she had ever owned. They were, in a fashion, family.

“I haven’t seen Uncle Jack in a few years. Not since his son Kodie and I went to Senior Prom together.”

It hadn’t been her choice of date, and the argument that had raged in the Conrad home had lasted three intolerable days, she and her mother butting heads on everything from the color of her dress to the way she wore her hair. Kodie wasn’t a bad guy and truthfully, he hadn’t wanted to go the dance with her any more than she had with them. But it had been arranged years before the event was even due to take place. In the end they both dutifully took their places next to each other for pictures in the foyer before escaping to the limo to get happily drunk on the well-stocked wet bar.

“I had almost forgotten about the blush of young love. I was worried about that boy for a while. You heard they caught him awhile back in a house full of street whores and enough cocaine to give that Tony Montana character a seizure.”

Her brows came up at that. It seemed unlike the boy she had known but people changed and it took more strength to keep from breaking under the family pressure than perhaps Kodie had. She let her curiosity at the topic glimmer to the surface.

“A house full of…he was the perfect gentleman at prom. I can hardly imagine that scene.”

“Who can say what’s gotten into that young man. If Jackson hadn’t gotten him a job at the Port of Los Angeles, he’d probably be in an out of rehab facilities I imagine.”

She could tell by the way Edith waved a hand dismissively that Kodie wasn’t worth the energy to think on. Stacie lifted a shoulder casually giving it the appropriate gesture of disinterest that was expected. There wasn’t much more to gain from digging further. Eventually Edith would wonder why she was so eager to gossip about the families. It was better to go on to something everyone knew.

“Speaking of rehab, did you know Tristaan has a new line coming out now that he’s clean and sober? He plans to call it Clarity. I saw a sneak peek of some of the pieces and they are just gorgeous. You’d just adore the mother of pearl pin collection…”

The conversation shifted easily and she spent another hour enjoying the afternoon with Edith. She kept the tone of their topics light but her mind was turning over the information she’d gleaned. Stacie was willing to bet even money that Uncle Jack and Warren Randall were in on whatever Weston was into. Whatever business they had together scared Weston, enough to demand she empty her safe, liquidate assets…it was big. Big enough to ignore Weston’s predilection to torturing and murdering women. Stacie knew there was a bigger play on the table, she could feel it even if she couldn’t see it yet. They needed more information and she knew just which card to play. She waved one last time to Edith as she slid into the backseat of the SUV.

“Home?”

She gave Happy a distracted nod that the blonde smiled at before turning to put the car in gear. “Who do we know in drugs?”

Happy’s bright eyes cut to her quickly in the rearview mirror with curiosity. She was weighing the request to see if Stacie was joking or not. After a second she gave a delicate grunt and focused on the road.

“Depends on how much of what you’re looking for.”

“Enough cocaine to make Tony Montana have a seizure.”

This time the eyes panned up in a slow disbelieving arc. Stacie smiled widely and gestured to the street to remind the other woman to keep her focus where it needed to be.

“We might know a guy…”

“Good. Aubrey’s going to want to talk to him.”

“I’ll make it happen, boss.”

[midnightsimmmer]

I decided I’m posting spoilers

In my creative writing class, I decided to take season 2, episode 4 of Bite The Bullet and make it into a short-story-esque read. Scattered scenes from the episode will be below ;) Would love feedback!!!!

“Well, have you tried… maybe like-”

“Give it up, Kiyami.” Beatrix fumbled to get her fingers untangled from her curls. Kiyami slumped onto the table and placed her cheek in her hand.

“Bee… he’s not going to stop bugging you until you tell him to stop.”

“He’s never going to stop.” Beatrix's hand flung free, nearly knocking her tea off the table. Kiyami helplessly opens her phone after a slight ding emerges, and she lets out a sigh.

“Are you still answering his calls?” Beatrix freezes, and without a word Kiyami knew the answer. She was disappointed, but not surprised. The room suddenly grew colder, Kiyami rubbing her arms for warmth, looking to see if the air conditioning kicked back on. It didn’t. She watched Beatrix pick at her nail polish for what felt like hours.

“You don’t understand.” Beatrix’s voice choked under the pressure, barely finishing the last word. 

“What do you mean I don’t understand? I thought I knew you better than anyone ever has.”

“Well, clearly you don’t.” her stare lingered from her nails to the painting Kiyami hung up above their table. It was a piece of Japan Kiyami spent an entire night telling Beatrix about when she couldn’t sleep. Kiyami practiced tai chi there every day after school as a child, she loved the way the cherry blossoms fell onto her as she swiftly moved her limbs. It was one of the only places Kiyami could be at peace, and Beatrix wanted her to always have a way to be there.

“It’s been 7 months. You need to let him go or-”

“Or you’re going to leave me, right?” The cracks in Beatrix’s voice echoed the pain she was feeling. “If you loved me you wouldn’t make me choose.”

“If you really loved me, there wouldn’t be a choice.” Beatrix’s face grew red, for the first time since she got home, she finally made eye contact. Kiyami could see the pain, the overwhelming amount of confusion, anger, frustration, sadness, everything.

“He was the first person I ever loved and trusted, I told you he wasn’t going to let me go.”

“He murdered people, Beatrix!” Kiyami’s hand slammed onto the table and the deep voice of her past crept up. Frustration overpowered the estrogen Kiyami had been on for years, and hearing her old voice broke her heart even more.

“He did it to protect me.” Beatrix’s teeth began to grind, she continued to pick at her polish without breaking from the stare.

“You’re so stuck on a man that you’re going to make excuses for the murder of your own father? What kind of hold does he have on you?” Kiyami pulled her hand off the table and rested it on Beatrix’s hands. “It wasn’t this bad when we got together, Bee. What happened?”

That’s when she broke. 7 months of tears all came out at once, causing every spec of black eyeliner to smear down her cheeks. She wanted to tell her everything, help her understand, but how? How do you explain the way you’ve been once again manipulated, when you don’t even know it? Weston’s smooth words through the scratchy connection of a prison phone echoed through her mind, and she couldn’t let him go. There’s no way it could ever be possible. Kiyami wrapped her arms around Beatrix, but she pushed her away.

“Hey, let me help you.” Kiyami was back to her soft and light-hearted voice, caring more about Beatrix’s emotions than whatever hold Weston still had on her. “This is part of my job.”

“A relationship isn’t a job, Kiyami!” She hid her frustrations through anger, unknowingly burying every ounce of progress she’s made with Kiyami. “I never felt like work to him.”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” Kiyami’s hand frantically flew to cover her stomach, the other smearing her makeup to the side of her face rather than down her cheeks.

“I need to go.” Beatrix struggled to stand, overrun with emotion that she couldn’t control. She practically ran out the door as Kiyami turned, thinking of following her. Instead she leaned out the door to ask Beatrix to call her, but she was long gone.

Calista opened the door to find Beatrix, who had wiped all of her makeup away on the walk to her place. Her eyes were red and glossy, but Beatrix refused to let another tear fall. With an instant gasp, Calista’s girlfriend, Aia, joined by her side to welcome Beatrix in with a warm hug. Beatrix politely asked not to be touched, and they both backed up, allowing her to sit down wherever she pleased.

“What happened?” Calista sat by Beatrix as Aia began to brew black tea, something that Calista hated but kept around just for Beatrix.

“I don’t think Kiyami wants to be with me anymore.” Beatrix mumbled as she tried to steady her hand.

“Kiyami wants to be with you, Beatrix. Don’t let your insecurity take over the situation at hand.” Aia handed the cup to Beatrix, who only responded with a dirty look. “Too straight forward… right.” Aia stood there for a few moments, and realized that there was no way she was going to help. Kiyami may be her sister, but Aia still hasn’t figured out how to talk to Beatrix. Calista turned and locked eyes with Aia, the pair communicated almost telepathically.

It’s okay, I got it. Aia read from Calista’s soft nod. I think I’m gonna go. Aia said through sucking in her lips and looking down to her right.

“Just know that Kiyami loves you, I hear the way she talks about you every day. She wants you.” Aia picked up her phone from the glass coffee table and left into Calista’s room, hardly making a noise.

“Beatrix, you have to tell me the truth.” Calista put a hand on her knee, which was cold despite Beatrix wearing thick black tights. “Is this about Weston?” the tightening grip on the mug of tea told Calista all she needed to know, and she let out a sigh. “I told you to stop taking his calls.”

“He offered to pay for me to go to art school.”

“And you’re going to take it?!” 

“What? No! I-”

“I told you to stop taking money from him! I told you to stop taking calls from him!” Calista moved a cushion away from Beatrix, eyebrows furrowing.

“I did! But then I-”

“But then you decided to take the call! You know how he affects you, and you know how his affect on you hurts Kiyami! For fucks sake, Bee, do you even care about her feelings?”

“I do!” Beatrix’s unsteadiness hurled out in her words, slowly growing more and more exasperated.

“Then why take his call?”

“I-”

“He’s manipulated you. Again.”

“No he hasn’t! I have everything under control!”

“Then why are you crying?!” Beatrix paused to touch her cheeks, she can’t hide her feelings as easily as she used to. Calista’s shoulders dropped. “I can’t keep supporting this.”

“What?”

“I could understand if you weren’t taking his calls anymore, but that’s not the case. You’re letting him do this to you because part of you still wants him to.” Beatrix croaked, trying to say I know, but she couldn’t. There was nothing she could do. The purgatory of emotion, trampled between anger and despair. Calista was exhausted, and Beatrix knew it was over. Not just with her friends, but with Kiyami as well. She’s let him ruin everything for her. Her family, her friends, and any potential romance she could ever have. Beatrix accepted her fate with her best friend and left, trying her best not to slam the door behind her and failing. Aia poked her head out into the hallway to see Calista turn to look back at her.

“I don’t think you should have done that, Cal.” Aia sat next to Calista, her head barely able to lean on her shoulder. 

“I don’t know what else to do, she’s stuck.”

“Not everyone needs to hit rock bottom in order to get better. This isn’t a movie.”

“Then what do you suppose I do?” Calista rested her head on Aia’s, letting out a sigh that drew on for what felt like forever. Silence echoed through Calista’s apartment, doubt filling in any cracks left over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three days had passed since Beatrix called Kiyami from the corner of Arcadia Way and Charles Lane. She sulked on the bench painted blue in front of Mike’s Cornerstore, slowly typing in Kiyami’s phone number. The skips between words weren’t because of poor cell service. Beatrix crashed on Malachi’s couch, which only bugged his parent’s a little bit. As long as she paid a little rent for their troubles, everything would be alright… right?

“Beatrix…” Malachi shook her awake, no light shone in through the curtains yet. “You were sleep-talking again, my baba asked me to take you into my room.”

“I’m sorry.” she wiped the mixture of drool and tears from her chin and strained her eyes to see the clock on the wall. “What time is it?”

“Late.” He stood from his knees and went into his room, opening his dresser drawer for a t-shirt. Beatrix awkwardly followed in, hesitating to sit on his bed at first. 

“You’re sure they don’t mind I’m in here?” 

“Just as long as we’re fully clothed, not sharing a blanket, and the door is wide open.” He closed his dresser with his hip as a white v-neck was pulled down to cover his thin but toned waist; Beatrix failed to notice. Instead of laying back in bed to sleep, he leaned against the wall parallel to Beatrix. “Why did you come here?”

“Because I have nowhere else to go.” she bit her lip, eyes avoiding his.

“I know that’s not true. You came to me before your brother.” A wall of awkward silence built brick by brick as the clock ticked on. 

“I don’t want to explain everything to him.”

“Don’t you think your own twin would understand what’s going on in your head more than your eh- uh, whatever I am to you.”

“I think you count as an ex.”

“Cool, so you ghosting me hurts a little bit more now.”

“Aren’t you happy I came to you?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I am. I just... don’t get why. You haven’t talked to me since you left.” His arms crossed with defense, preparing himself to say something that could set off what he knows to be a ticking time bomb. “You haven’t even apologized yet.” 

“I know.” She looked at all the baseball trophies Malachi’s parents demanded be kept on the shelves. “That’s because I’m not sorry.”

“What the hell kind of response is that?” Malachi’s arms fell in dumbfoundedness.

“It’s my response. It’s the truth.” She bit her lip, the taste of blood spilling onto the side of her tongue. Malachi was perplexed, there was no way he could possibly respond to that. The two of them sat in silence for a while, until Malachi muscled the ability to ask the question that’s been lingering for months.

“Why’d you do it?”

“There’s a lot going on that you don’t know about.”

“With Weston?”

“With… Weston…” Malachi could see she was ready to open up, and maybe give him the answer he’s been longing for. She explained everything. How she fell fast and hard for Kiyami, simply because Kiyami made her feel like Weston didn’t exist anymore. Malachi had a lot of qualities Weston had, and whenever he said something Weston had said before, it threw Beatrix off guard and she felt reminded of everything he’d done for her. Even though everything Weston did was monstrous, it was still for Beatrix; The deep-set manipulation was making Beatrix feel that maybe, just maybe, murdering 6 people wasn’t so bad in the end. Beatrix told Malachi about Weston paying for her rent up until she moved in with Kiyami, and how Weston offered to pay for art school on top of that.

“Wow…” Malachi looked out to the sun rising through his window, suddenly sitting next to Beatrix on his bed. “That’s… a lot.”

“I know.”

“I really liked you, Beatrix.”

“Do you still?”

“No, not the same way.”

“Good.” The sound of an alarm buzzed through the walls, Malachi’s mother was getting up for work.

“Coffee?” Beatrix shook her head. “Oh, that’s right. Tea only.” She failed to hold back her smile. They sat there for a while, enjoying each other's aura in the silence. Malachi turned to see the bags under Beatrix’s eyes, the restless nights were really beginning to show, especially since she hasn’t had the chance to put makeup on since the last time she cried it all off.

“What do I say?”

“What?”

“In my sleep.” Beatrix looked to the ground, twiddling her thumbs.

“Oh.” Malachi pondered for a moment, wondering whether he thought she was ready to hear the truth or not. “Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

“Maybe you’ll tell me now.” a stern tone rode over her voice.

“Maybe I’ll tell you never.” A cheesy smirk made Malachi’s left dimple show, and he got up to grab his towel. “I’m gonna shower.” Beatrix kept her eyebrows low until the door was completely closed before letting her face relax as she flopped backwards onto the bed.

The way Malachi’s hair fell into his deep brown eyes when it was wet could weaken the knees of any girl, or guy for that matter. Droplets of Old Spice scented water drizzled down his jawline, which was the perfect mix of smooth and angular. He shook his head as water flung everywhere, annoying Beatrix, but causing the group of teen girls at their bus-stop to melt in the 40-degree cold.

“Can you fucking not?” Beatrix wiped droplets off her cheeks as she glared upwards. “You’re practically giving me a shower over here.”

“Oh come on,” Malachi pulled his hood up before opening his car door “It’s not like you didn’t need one anyway.” Beatrix reached out to him from the other side of the car, only for him to poke fun at the fact that she’s far too short to reach across his car. 

“You’re lucky it’s cold.” she grimaced.

“You’re lucky I’m letting you come to work with me, again.” her eyes rolled so hard she could see her brain, if there was any light.

“I don’t want to sit at home all day with your father watching a jewish priest read the Torah. I’m sorry.” Malachi let out a laugh.

“Me neither. That shit’s awful.” He pressed a cigarette between his lips before turning the corner, the teen girls once again gushing over him.

“Looks like you’ve got groupies.”

“They flunked classes so bad they need to go to summer school.” He lit his cigarette and drove off from the girls, who were still looking at him and waving to his car. “They’re also sophomores.”

“And for a moment you had me thinking bad grades were the only thing holding you back.” Beatrix joked, but he didn’t seem to take light to it.

“I’m not going to fuck a 15 year old.”

“It’s a joke, dude. I know you’re not like that.”

“Kay well that doesn’t make it funny.”

“I’m sorry, holy shit.” A few seconds of silence were cut off with Beatrix awkwardly turning on the radio, alternative music blasting through the speakers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kenji looked over to Cedric, both of them with concerned looks on their faces.

“You’re allowed to ask her what happened, you know.” Cedric rolled his eyes.

“She doesn’t respond when I do that, she has to tell me herself.”

“Maybe she’s doing that thing where she wants someone to reach out to her, but she’s too scared to ask.” Cedric looked over to Kenji, telepathically asking: are you sure about that one?  “Yeah no, you’re right. It’s Beatrix we’re talking about here.” Kenji’s british accent stumbled over her name, as it always has. Seeing Cedric worry about his sister made Kenji frustrated, he can’t solve problems that have to do with Beatrix because of her stubbornness. A slight knock on the open door revealed Kenji’s dad, with slicked back blonde hair and a dark 5 o’clock shadow.

“You lads all set for lunch?”

“I’m not hungry.” Cedric spit out, Kenji’s muscles tightened.

“Well, your mother and I are going out for lunch with your sister. I assume you boys can make your own once your appetite comes back.” He stepped back to head down the stairs before facing them again. “I hope everything gets sorted, Ced.” Cedric rubbed his temples as the footsteps down the stairs echoed into the room.

“He’s trying to father me.”

“It’s not like it makes me any more comfortable than you.” Kenji sighed, trying to think of any possible way to make Cedric feel better. “How’s chocolate chip waffles sound for lunch?”

“Extra chocolate chips?”

“Extra chocolate chips.” Kenji smiled before the two of them rushed down to the kitchen, pulling the waffle maker from the cupboards. Once they noticed the van pull out from the driveway, Kenji turned on the radio to its highest setting. Cedric’s awkward and lanky dancing paired with off-pitch singing brought warmth to Kenji’s heart, who sang along in perfect pitch as he put the waffle mix together. To Kenji’s surprise, Cedric’s elbow wacked against the bag of flour. White powder filled the air, sticking to Cedric’s black jeans and Kenji’s dark green pullover. They stood in silence, Cedric’s large brown eyes widened and staring right into Kenji’s hazel deep-set eyes, before breaking out into laughter, hugging the flour even deeper into their clothes.

[parf-fan]

Unsolicited and incomplete list of highlights from Improv Technology’s May 23rd show

In little-to-no particular order.

“I thought we weren’t doing a musical”

Alexis transforming herself into Don Alonso.

Davis Handle

Michael Stahler doing a live Animal Planet special with Hoagie and Milo.

“Which Brady Bunch am I??”

Jonathan's entire hotel experience.

“I wanna be entirely clear, visible, vulnerable, perhaps supple, and maybe even emotionally contemplative with the press.”

Alex's face immediately after Chat Roulette.

Alexis loudly bursting into a vaguely Scottishy-piratey accent.

Michael getting to do a quick science talk during Objection.

Jonathan's ASMR persona stabbing themself in the eye with their glasses.

Joe's genuinely brilliant hosting.

“Who among us has not slapped through Jonathan before?”

Most likely to start an improv show eight minutes late.

“What number show is this for you guys?”

“I can hear you as clearly as I can hear your sins!”

“We doin' a show y'all?”

“I will say that my dog just leaped off of an— anyway.”

“Holy bananas.”

“No. This is just a personal Alexis-to-Jonathan threat.”

Michael trying to start a joke three times in One-Eighty-Five before managing it.

Michael's video freezing in the middle of the joke.

Michael patterspeaking to make up for it.

Alex in Press Conference as Batman changing his superhero name to Bearman.

Everybody's reactions to hearing that prompt.

This is the second time Alex has been Batman in an Improv Technology show.

the crimes that you kermitted

“You the bitch Satan lookin' for.” “I am the bitch Satan's looking for!”

Katelyn tapping on Weston

“Yo, you were just possessed there for a moment, that was beautiful.”

The gross Zoom incompetency of this show.  Literally, I was crying from laughter.  This must be what Disasterpiece is like in-universe.

“...facebook dot com, you know, the website?”

“Not you, though.  You are the worst child I've ever read to.”

Joe's description of Alexis completely fitting Michael, too.

“ComPLaINtS??? WE've gotten WRitTeN COmpLAiNts!!!!”

“Church had gotten boring.”

“In honor of Adam Shepley:” *dramatically opens carbonated drink*

“I have to stop a disaster, one second, my dog's about to jump on my cat, one second.”

Everybody's faces at that.

“Yeah, I can make up some references to a show I haven't seen.”

Alexis's little grin when Haley brings up otters.

Michael quietly threatening the audience to coerce them into donating.

“Mike, stop talking to them.” “I—I– I wasn't! I wasn't.”

Michael continuing to quietly threaten.

“Is the dog back? Are you okay?” “No, my family's at the door.”

“Christians are weird.”

The false start on Michael’s press conference

“What I sound like doesn't matter at all, and I've forgotten the accent since the last time I saw you.”

“Good Cop, Bad Cop; otherwise known as Here's A Glass Of Milk, Gimme That Glass Of Milk.”

Their faces at that.

An objection being called at that alternate name.

Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.

“I'm.....Walt?”

grrrrounded

Arc Hamm

“Oh. Shocker.  Another play where half the cast is dead before the end of Act One.”

The beard reveal ™.

Jonathan's reaction.

Michael putting sunglasses atop his regular glasses to be the bad cop.

“Get the heckin' heck out of here!”

Michael's nyooming onscreen entrance as bad cop.

Ailey Karlson

Weston and Hoagie helping close out the show

“Uhh, guys?”

“Oh, huntey, you bein' hunted?”

nocableinmychildhood.com

Michael: *foghorn sounds* “Correct the record.”

“I am insulted at the idea that I am three times the size of Shrek.”

Alexis slipping up and dropping the f-bomb.

Michael Stahler (Horace Tanningrove) unveiling a beer.

Once Michael realizes that he's meant to be marketing beer, he starts sounding like a middle schooler writing an essay on a book he didn't read, and I think that's beautiful.

“I guess Jeff is definitely gonna have to control this game.”

“Let's see what Christian Mingle in this part of Georgia has to offer.”

Michael pulling a hairbrush out of nowhere as a visual aid

“Remember CD-roms?”

Michael: “You [Haley and Alexis] are better at facial hair than I am!”

“So you hiding from Satan and looking for vampires?” “Yes.” “Girl, you need help.”

Alex breaking the fourth wall to tell all men to get rid of cargo pants, and Michael promptly standing up and grabbing a pair of cargo pants from off camera to throw them somewhere else off camera.

Joe's absurdly beautiful origin story.

“ 'Aye aye Captain' is damn right.”

Michael quickly starting to analyze everybody's facial/skeletal structures before remembering that Alex literally played a snake.

Michael himself then briefly becoming a snek.

Alex saying his address over the internet while Alexis hastily tries to prevent it.

Jonathan apparently not having writing implements at the beach?

“I could honestly watch this for the full hour.” “I could not. Please.”

“That would've been a good one, but no.”

“Are you colourblind?” “Yes.”

“Can I let my cat out of the room?”

“Please donate to our Venmo so we can take improv classes.”

“Children can't drink beer.” “Not with that attitude, they can't.”

Porous Tanningrove

“Thought has occurred.”

“Well at least I can drink my name-brand soda without having to hide it.”

“Also here, my little sister, in some cases, not really, she's not adopted, we just say things sometimes.”

“Objection! As long as your cells are able to metastasize[?], you have a life.”

“Sshould I write any of that down?”

“I'm a sexy boi.” –Alexis, quite rightly

“How did you know how moist I was?”

Katelyn deadass namedropping her persona in Press Conference and not realizing that's who she is.

“Oh my god I almost lost my mother's place in a book!”

“I'm ready to get crusty with it. I regret saying that.”

“Why do you get so close to the screen”

“We stan David.”

Michael petting his dog while everyone else discusses the prompt.

“Are you a specific pirate?” “What?” “Are you specific?  Or AtlanticHAHAHA!”

Everybody hivemindedly putting on cockney accents of various degrees of dreadfulness upon hearing the phrase “a new brew” and just. not stopping.

Seriously, what was up with that, it was insane.

Hilarious, but insane.

Michael correcting Jonathan's misuse of “objective” vs. “subjective”.

Everybody's faces immediately after.

“Objection! I sent you a foot pic a mere two weeks ago.” “That's true.”

“Ah swear, Ah'll goe out an' find yer entire family and gut ye liyke a fish!”

Hoagie waving goodbye.

“Oh, if you look upon these, they're not just simply rubber ducks: one of them is wearing a leather harness.”

[onlywaynews]

Канцлер Риши Сунак и его жена Акшата Мурти впервые попали в список Sunday Times Rich List самых богатых людей - 250 человек Великобритании. Их общее состояние в 730 миллионов фунтов стерлингов, Риши Сунак и Акшата Мурти на 222 место в годовом списке газеты. Последний рейтинг 250 богатейших людей Великобритании также выявил рекордные 177 миллиардеров в Великобритании в этом году, сообщает Sunday Times. В целом, самые богатые люди и семьи в Великобритании в этом году стоят 711 миллиардов фунтов стерлингов, что на 8% больше, чем в прошлом году в 658 миллиардов фунтов стерлингов. Шри и Гопи Хиндуджа, которые управляют индийским конгломератом Hinduja Group, возглавили список со своим состоянием в 28,47 млрд фунтов стерлингов - рост более чем на 11 млрд фунтов стерлингов за год. Предприниматель сэр Джеймс Дайсон и его семья заняли второе место в списке богатых после увеличения на 6,7 млрд фунтов стерлингов до 23 млрд фунтов стерлингов. [caption id="attachment_16244" align="alignnone" width="730"] The Sunday Times Rich List 2022[/caption] 10 самых богатых семей �� людей в Великобритании, оценочная стоимость их состояний и основной источник их богатства являются: Шри и Гопи Хиндуджа и семья - £28,47 млрд (промышленность и финансы) Сэр Джеймс Дайсон и семья - £23 млрд (товары для дома и технологии) Дэвид и Саймон Рубен и семья - £22,26 млрд (недвижимость и интернет) Сэр Леонард Блаватник - £20 млрд (инвестиции, музыка и СМИ) Гийом Пуза - £19,259 млрд (онлайн-платежи) Лакшми Миттал и семья - £17 млрд (сталь) Кристоф Хенкель и семья - £15 млрд (химикаты) Гай, Джордж, Аланна и Гален Уэстон и семья - £13,5 млрд (розничная торговля) Кирстен и Йорн Раузинг - £12 млрд (наследство и инвестиции) Шарлин де Карвалью-Хейнекен и Мишель де Карвалью — £11,42 млрд (наследство, пивоварение и банковское дело) Растущее состояние самых богатых людей Великобритании происходит на фоне растущего кризиса стоимости жизни, когда инфляция в Великобритании резко выросла до 9% в год до апреля, что означает, что цены растут самыми быстрыми темпами за последние 40 лет. ONLYWAY.NEWS | Chancellor Rishi Sunak and his wife Akshata Murty have made the Sunday Times Rich List of the UK's wealthiest 250 people for the first time. Their joint £730m fortune ranks them at 222 of the paper's annual list. The expanding fortunes of Britain's wealthiest people comes amid a growing cost of living crisis, with UK inflation rising sharply to 9% in the year to April - meaning prices are rising at their fastest rate for 40 years. According to the Sunday Times, the 10 richest families and individuals in the UK, the estimated value of their fortunes and the primary source of their wealth are: Sri and Gopi Hinduja and family - £28.47bn (industry and finance) Sir James Dyson and family - £23bn (household goods and technology) David and Simon Reuben and family- £22.26bn (property and internet) Sir Leonard Blavatnik - £20bn (investment, music and media) Guillaume Pousaz- £19.259bn (online payments) Lakshmi Mittal and family - £17bn (steel) Christoph Henkel and family - £15bn (chemicals) Guy, George, Alannah and Galen Weston and family - £13.5bn (retailing) Kirsten and Jorn Rausing - £12bn (inheritance and investment) Charlene de Carvalho-Heineken and Michel de Carvalho - £11.42bn (inheritance, brewing and banking)

[bamboomusiclist]

5/8  Pinky Winters / Let's Be Buddies jr0116  等更新しました。

おはようございます、更新完了しました。https://bamboo-music.net

Curtis Counce / Carl's Blues m3574 Barney Kessel / Reflections in Rome Lisp34012 Al Haig / Invitation ah4 Dusko Goykovich / It's About Blues Time eny48 John Coltrane / Blue Train bst81577 Cannonball Adderley / & Coltrane Ls86009/mg20449 Randy Weston / Little Niles bnla598h2 Pinky Winters / Let's Be Buddies jr0116 Eddie Jefferson / the Live Liest mr5127 Kenny Burrell / Handcrafted Mr5144 Gil Evans / st a10102 Earl & Carl Grubbs Visitors / Rebirth mr5047 Joe Hicks / Mighty Joe Hicks ens1028 Miles Davis / Bitches Brew Gq30997 Kraftwerk / Rolf & Florian vel2006 Jackie Moore / Sweet Charlie Babe sd7285 Sly and Family Stone / Stand bn26456 Steely Dan / Aja ab1006 Talking Heads / House in Motion - Air wbn17820 Ultravox / Dangerous Rhythm - My Sex wip6375

~bamboo music~ https://bamboo-music.net  info@bamboo-music.net   530-0028 大阪市北区万歳町3-41 シロノビル104号 06-6363-2700

[thestoriesincoffeestains]

Vivienne Adler | Unlock and Key

Main FC: Beth Riesgraf Younger FC: ? Older FC: Rebecca Romijn Main Verse: Seattle Sexuality: Pansexual Occupation: Private Investigator

Born on April Fool’s Day, Viv grew up thinking life was all fun and games. Every year, she sets up a more intricate prank than the last, celebrating her birthday her way. Even during serious, intense, stressful moments, Viv knows how to liven up a somber mood. Sometimes, her pranks get her into trouble, but everyone always laughs it off, knowing it’s all for fun. Whenever one of Vivienne’s friends feels down, she knows how to get them to smile.

Vivienne grew up with the best parents ever. Her dad, Dagmar, got her into swimming, turning Vivienne into a complete fish out of water. Her mother, Yvonne, got her into video games, teaching Vivienne at a young age that woman can kickass, too. 

Unfortunately, Vivienne has a tendency to lose things, especially her house keys. From the time she was in second grade, she’d lost seven keys, which inspired her how to pick locks. Whenever one of her dad’s tenants gets locked out of their apartments, Vivienne volunteers to help if her dad is busy. 

Vivienne and her childhood best friend, Dylan, first met on the school’s cheerleading squad. They have a reputation for planning and hosting the best Christmas party every year; an all-inclusive event that every member of their school dies to go to. Viv and Dylan spend all November planning it. Vivienne even has Christmas accessory for every day of December, though her elf costume is by far her favorite. She loves Halloween and, of course, April Fool’s, too. 

One day, someone broke into the spare apartment in their building her mother kept as her work office. The thief stole 16-years-worth of video games, hardware, collector’s items, and memorabilia. The police officer that arrived on the scene admitted that without evidence or leads, the case would likely go cold within 48 hours. Viv’s mom contacted a family friend, Devarshi Mili, who investigated and found the thief in less than 24 hours. After that, Viv knew exactly what she wanted to do with her life. Instead of wasting money on a college degree, she shadowed Dev and earned her PI’s license.

Despite her playful demeanor, Vivienne always gives her clients the compassion and attention they deserve. One of the first cases she takes solo involves a kidnapped child. Viv learned the hard way that there’s a time and place for her child-like tendencies.

Vivienne loves peppermint, white chocolate, and gingerbread flavors. She thinks it’s ridiculous that she has to wait for the holidays for her favorite snacks and dishes, though. She usually stocks up on peppermint or chocolate-covered popcorn in December; enough to last her the year. Dev forces Viv to drink tea during their shadowing sessions (and often complained that Viv was the last person who needed caffeine), turning Viv on to loose-leaf teas. Her favorite brews are watermelon-peppermint during the summer or white chocolate peppermint during the winter. She has a Christmas music, TV show, and movie playlist she works her way through every year, too.

Vivienne gets defensive when people claim she can’t do something. She obsesses until she gets the opportunity to prove them wrong. She can’t stand bad music remixes or movie remakes. When she’s stuck on a case, Viv jumps rope instead of pacing when she can’t make it to the pool. Dev gave her a taser after she earned her PI’s license, which Viv keeps on herself at all times. She hates boy bands, bubblegum-flavored anything, and handling raw meat (especially after growing up with a vegan mom). 

Vivienne sometimes partners with Dev or Callum, another PI, as well as Detective Darcy Weston or bounty hunter Shahrzad Gahan.

[legatumrpg]

full name: greta catchlove

age: twenty-four

gender and pronouns: ciswoman and she/her/hers

blood status: muggleborn

occupation: pastry chef

affiliation: neutral

i n t r o d u c t i o n »

You struggled to fit in with the wizarding world. You always felt like you didn’t belong in this world, but the truth is, you didn’t belong in the Muggle world either. It has taken some time to find a place where you truly fit in and you still don’t know which world you fit in better. You are in your twenties, still figuring out who you are. And with the war brewing, one part of you hopes the circumstance shows your true colours, but the other part of you just wants to survive. But how can you fight a war, when the enemy seems almost impossible to identify.

b i o g r a p h y »

The night of Greta’s birth briefly set a record for coldest on record in the small town of Weston-super-Mare. She was born at home with only a midwife and her parents, Addison and Megan, in attendance. She was swaddled and placed in her mother’s arms; that night, the three of them keeping vigil in front of the fire, should have been the start of many evenings spent the same way. Tragically, only nine months after Greta’s birth, Megan was killed in an automobile accident. Growing up, her father was her world, moon, and stars. He owned a bookshop just off main street, and her earliest memories were of curling up in the children’s corner with her favorite picture books, visiting far off places and distant times. After starting primary school, she relished this ability even more; she found her classes boring and classmates boorish. Her afternoons and weekends were split between reading in the shop and cooking with her father. His ability to make his passion–the written word–his livelihood inspired her to do the same. After discovering her love of food at the age of three, she decided that she’d open her own restaurant someday and never looked back.

Besides books and her father, the other constant in her childhood was Septima. Beatriz and Addison had been childhood friends, and she was instrumental in helping him grieve after Megan’s death. He returned the favor when Septima’s father walked out seven years later. The two girls were inseparable from the start; their parents often remarked that they seemed to have their own language. Every day after primary school, they would walk down the block to Addison’s shop and spend their afternoons in the children’s nook. Magi and fantasy always had a special place in their hearts; when they were eight, they became obsessed with the Chronicles of Narnia and knocked on the back of every wardrobe they came across. Two years later, Lord of the Rings had its turn.

The summer she was eleven, Greta’s world was flipped upside down when Professor Dumbledore showed up at her door with the news she was a witch. Greta doesn’t remember much about the meeting itself, her memories lost to shock. She couldn’t imagine leaving her village, her dad, or Septima. Greta was numb after the wizard left, unable to process what she had been told. She sat on her front stoop and thought. That’s where she was when, an hour later, Septima came running around the corner to tell her the most amazing news.

Septima made finding out she was a witch worthwhile. Greta had survived eleven years without magic and didn’t see much merit in welcoming it into her life now. After all, she loved her familiar, quiet existence in the seaside village; why did things have to change? Having her best friend with her was the only way she’d agree to leave home for school. Being placed in different houses was a blow; another was learning that this world of spells and potions wasn’t so magical after all, and that some of its inhabitants treated her like a second-class citizen. She coped with the toxic rhetoric by throwing herself into her studies. For the first time in her young life, her classes actually challenged her. In primary school, she had often already learned what was being taught from the books that permeated her childhood.This wasn’t the case at Hogwarts and she thrived in the new environment. Much like the recipes she loves, magic simply takes following the instructions and executing steps well.

Socializing comes less naturally to Greta, although she enjoys getting to know people. Growing up in a small village where her father’s family had lived for generations, everyone knew everything about her before they met. She’d barely had to meet someone new in her whole life, and she was unpracticed. She saw the ability to practice one of the biggest positives of coming to Hogwarts. While not incredibly social–the result of her fairly isolated upbringing, her deep friendship with Septima, and her quiet, observant nature–that didn’t mean she disliked people. In her time at school, she had the opportunity to meet people from backgrounds entirely foreign to her. Hogwarts also provided endless opportunities for people-watching, something Greta cherishes about her post-university life in London.

After leaving Hogwarts, Greta had no idea what she wanted to do. While she had enjoyed much of her magical classes, she hadn’t found anything she could see herself doing for the rest of her life. However, the idea of returning to Weston-super-Mare no longer held much appeal for her. She decided to split the difference and enroll at the Le Cordon Bleu in London. It was a way to return to her muggle roots without completely leaving the world she had inhabited for the previous seven years. She didn’t want to entirely remove herself from the magical world, and she was hired as a pastry chef at the Leaky Cauldron after receiving her culinary diploma. It’s a job she loves in a place that she’s always felt an affinity with; like her, the pub has a foot in both muggle and magical worlds.

Always hardworking, Greta already has her eyes on the next goal. She is testing recipes and scouting locations for her own bakery in Diagon Alley. Ideally, she’d like to establish the business by the time she’s thirty.

c o n n e c t i o n s »

rita skeeter » Since they have started, you never miss a single article that they write in the Daily Prophet. You live for the drama though you never want to get involved in any of that yourself. There is a sense of admiration you have for them and maybe they will be up to giving you some writing tips down the road.

septima vector » You once asked your parents if they could adopt them but all you got was a laugh. They are far more than just a best friend to you. They know your flaws and you know their own. They are the person you apparate to at four in the morning, knowing very well that they are awake waiting for you. No one may understand the bond you have with the other and that is fine with you.

fabian prewett » In all honestly, you had thought they were their twin when you spent that night with them. It was a grave mistake that you have yet to get out of your mind. While you may want to make things right, you know that there was no going back from that. Instead, you find that the best way to solve the problem is to ignore it.

Greta Catchlove is played by MEDALION RAHIMI and is TAKEN

[emeryweston-blog]

( ALICIA VIKANDER, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ) — EMERY WESTON is a TWENTY-NINE year old living in Boston. SHE has been here for FOUR YEARS as a WRITER. Though PESSIMISTIC, SHE is also SPONTANEOUS. Their morning drink is an ICED QUAD SHOT AMERICANO.

guten tag, boys. i’m luna and i’ll be playing this sarcastic little grump, emery. i don’t have a connections page yet because i’m lazy, but if you’ve got one, link me or we can brainstorm a connection! anyway, read more about emery under the cut (while i go dive into the intro tag like scrooge mcduck): 

CHILDHOOD

emery grew up in sunny las vegas, nevada, far enough from the strip to avoid the constant throng of drunken tourists, but close enough to its unmistakable glare of bright lights. as a child, she was precocious, always wanting to learn more about the people and things around her. she babbled frequently, always trying to piece words and sentences together, long before she could fully make sense of them.

her childhood was normal enough, but quickly became complicated when her father was injured in a workplace accident when she was 14 years old. the repercussions resulted in hefty medical and rehabilitation bills, as well as familial tensions.

eager to escape the angst at home, her older brother enrolled in the army a year later and shipped out on active duty. and the blows kept coming. her mother lost her job to a factory closure and, along with it, the sole income for their family, apart from the disability checks they received from the government and what was left of her father’s insurance settlement.

unable to pay the mortgage on the family home, they moved into a smaller place. emery’s mother would go on to win the lottery the next year — a cool (and impressively timed) $500,000, which she blew in a matter of months after bills and loans were paid. soon the family was back to square one.

ADULTHOOD

emery worked odd jobs, from walking dogs to handing out flyers on the strip to flipping burgers to help out. she earned herself a criminal record when she was 17 with a petty theft charge after she was caught shoplifting, which cut her job options down considerably. her juvenile record was sealed by the courts when she was 21, around the time she wound up working at a motel off the strip as a housekeeper.

over the course of her time working at the motel, she saw far too much to even be phased by anything anymore. bodily fluids? check. drug deals? check. hoarders? check. the odd dead body? check. her experience working at the motel helped to shape the work that would become her first novel, which she worked on, on and off, for several years.

on a whim, emery did some research and contacted numerous literary agents and never heard back. dejected, she gave up on the process for a while, choosing to focus her energy on her day job and just getting by. it would be eight months before an agent would reach out and she would grow a partnership with them.

her brother returned home from his tour and went to work off the coast of louisiana on an oil rig and sending money home to help with the care of their father. seeing an opportunity, emery made the decision to move to boston to increase her prospects of being published, and to stay with an old friend from high school.

BOSTON

emery slept on her friend’s couch for a few months as she worked on fixing up her first draft of her novel, and went back to the old practice of taking whatever jobs came her way to keep her afloat: dog walking, bartending, temping. 

her first novel, into the void, a psychosexual thriller about a hotel maid that spies on guests, was published three years ago. her publishing house sent her on a regional book tour around northeastern states to promote it. 

the book sold well, despite its mixed reviews. it was nominated for an edgar award but lost out.

emery is currently at work with her agent to come up with something for her second novel. the publisher wants to capitalize on the fifty shades craze, and is pushing her to go in that direction, wanting something a bit more salacious to sell.

PERSONALITY

emery is a pessimistic garbage can who is just trying to get through life. she's determined not to squander her chances with her publisher, so she’s regularly posted up at the library or boston brew shotgunning coffee and trying her best to get some writing done. her foray into writing started in a coffee shop back in vegas, and so she finds that she can’t write in silence, preferring the cozy, bustling environment of a cafe.

it’s generally a good idea to keep out of her swinging distance. there’s a lot of rage in her little 5′2″ frame, especially when provoked. she has some soft spots, though ⏤ you just have to search for them. she’s spontaneous, has a sharp tongue, and doesn’t shy away from going after what (or who) she wants.

[justnotcricket]

Match Report: 25/11/17 WASTCA One-Day Div 2

Fremantle (8/241) def Subi Marist (9/163)

Mann Oval is a cricket ground in miniature. A tiny oval, a small man’s oval. An oval for small men… and for some, this was the first homecoming since the horrific ‘Mann Oval Massacre’…

When I arrived at the venue the last surviving veterans were at the Mosman Park Bowling Club, emotional wounds still so raw as to suggest they were drinking to forget…

Legend has it, in the first meeting between the recently estranged Fremantle Mosman Park One Day team and it’s previous fraternal masters, Sub Marist, tensions were at an all time high.

The rebellious FMPCC were looking to make a point of their desertion, and SMCC still hurt and reeling from the betrayal of their brothers, were determined to see them put in their place.

With plenty of pregame banter, the Pirates won the toss, elected to bat, and after all manner of failure, proceeded to shuffle like they had ne’er shuffled before. Subi’s opening bowler took 4 wickets and they were all out for 71.

It must have been mortifying.

Matty Angus, then captain of Subi Marist [!!!], smelled blood, promoted himself to number 3, [wasn’t required], and the opening batsmen made the runs in less than 5 overs.

Retribution. Merciless, and swift in its brutal execution. No wonder it still smarts, and is spoken of in hushed tones to this day…

Ray on the other hand, spared the indignity, wistfully reminisced about the time he won the Fred Mann Medal in under 12’s back in the 1930’s, and you felt like his was a different sort of homecoming; a washed out sky, the spires of Norfolk Pines piercing the lilac haze of Jacaranda, littered with mid twentieth century apartments where the poor people used to live. He was home, this was his country...

He then went on to joke about how Liz had some One Day International tickets, and was excited to be finally seeing some ‘real cricket’…

I’m not sure what she means by that.

What does she mean by that!?!

Sure, in second division no one ever really gives LBW, or stumpings for example, but for us the game is played with as much passion and rivalry as any Ashes Series.

Smith had just made a game-changing ton for Australia in Brisbane, and in our minds, we were there with him, facing every ball, grinding it out, warding off defeat, and sharing the triumph… 

Well, Dave Barratt was anyway. Still smarting from the slight of alleged boringness, strode out to the crease with the kind of steely determination that was ultimately even more boring.

We had won the toss and were batting.

Quinny at the other end, couldn’t help but entertain. Everyone loves a clown, but spare a thought for the sad man, whose heart and soul goes to making other men laugh.  

It’s a tough gig, and he does all his own slapstick…

Dubois opened the bowling with a haircut that would have looked quite handsome on a middle-aged woman from Claremont. Quinny blanched.

Elliot from the other, pranced in a merry dance from side on of the wicket. It was a fancy action; with a one, two, three, arms into 5th position, skip, hop, slide… and bowl. In my mind, I even see the tu-tu.

It was so distracting and Quinny had no option than to hit him down the ground. 

Dave Barratt turned 4’s into twos, and 2’s into 1’s and scintillating cricket into an afternoon nap. Quin farmed himself the strike to stay alert.

Broad shouldered Jonny came on to bowl, carrying the ball with a forward wrist that hung before his groin like a pendulous seedpod. It was kind of erotic in a way I can’t quite put my finger in.

Quinny rocked back and cut his first delivery, and followed it with a later cut, two balls later in fact.

Dave Barratt kept it sensible, head down, nothing silly, and was about as much fun as senior public servant ever really can be.

He did bring up the 50 off 10 overs but was caught for 18, closing a 63 run opening partnership.

Meanwhile, Australia approached the English total… in no small part due to Dave’s empathetic connection with the Australian captain.

I came in at number 3, and was feeling good. I saw the ball well, played some nice shots and some even more beautiful leaves, until Wynne came on and served a selection of fruity mince pies: my weakness at this time of year.

Our thinking was it was better to have Joe umpiring out in the middle annoying the opposition, than in the shed annoying us. It proved to be an oversight.

He gave me LBW with my back leg in the air to a high bouncing ball still in its way up!?! I think he fired me before it even connected…

Does he know I’m on our selection committee? Does he know I write the match report? Is the guy A COMPLETE IDIOT!?!

In the moment, I may have said a few harsh words that I will come to regret, but now that I have taken some time to think reasonably about this and let my emotions cool, I think it is time we fucked him off all together. 

It wasn’t the incorrectness of the decision, [Quinny said it was plumb, and I was playing across the line…again], but it was the sheer enjoyment of giving me out. Like he vicariously took the wicket!?! ‘How is that?’ he grinned!

You can get away with being a shit bloke like Darrell if we are really short of bowlers but not when you are in the team as part of the clubs ‘new member drive’.

I was out on 13. Unlucky for some...

Joe Dirt specifically.

He’ll be going for some long walks out of the nets on Tuesday, which will do us both good, I need to vent and he needs the exercise.

JL came in looking as relaxed as a man three beers in by midday, and set about constructing an innings. At drinks, we were two for 93. Quinny was on 49 and Australia lead by 29 runs.

Darrell made a great brew, only lacking rum and a can of Emu Export, [according to Quinny], who brought up his 50 with a couple of boundaries over mid wicket and one down the ground to take 17 runs from an over by Cranley.

Their bowling stocks largely turned to laughing stocks as Jonny fatigued and started bowling wides, or short and outside off; easy to cut, or rock back and square drive, and the boys made hay while the sun shone.

Joe, fixating on the edge of the skinny little pitch, called no ball after no ball, until the opposing Captain started to complain about the stultifying level of officiation…

‘Sorry mate, we know...’

Harley came on to bowl and Quinny was uncharacteristically patient. He was in his nervous 70’s and maybe this would be the day to convert a healthy start into a milestone century.

Harley also looked like he was in his 70’s, with even less chance of making it to 100, especially after dropping a caught and bowled attempt that could probably kill a man of his age.

JL hit one over the fence, which on a backyard ground such as this, and with calls of ‘lost ball’, surely must be 6 and out. Once the ball had been recovered, play resumed and he brought up with the 150 with a 4 that very nearly landed in a passing pram.

I’m not an expert, but surely this kind of behaviour deviates from the standard INTJ on the MBTI, and clearly indicates psychopathic tendencies.

You can imagine careers day back in high school: ‘Has he considered corporate law, Mrs Little?’

Don’t get me wrong; he also played some beautiful cut shots and fine glances off his legs. But he would then tease the fielders spooning it just in front of them, while calling, ‘Yes!’

Like the kind of kid that pulls the wings off flies...

Quinny hit a big six, fell over, was nearly stumped, fell out of a building, ducked under plank, and was run over by a little red car giggling with midgets.

Or at least that’s how I remember his innings.

JL brought up his 50 with a pull shot square of the wicket, and raised his bat, almost in remorse and embarrassment for the bowlers, almost as if remorse was in his emotional range. He then hit a six into someone’s front yard, narrowly missing their new car.

They brought up a 100 run partnership before Joe gave Quinny out, stumped on 92. I mean seriously…

Did the other team give stumpings, or run outs? No they did not.

Gobsmacked at this turn of events, we quickly lost three wickets in an over. Shrugger skied it for a golden duck. Darrell got in on the action and fired JLBW:

Justin Little Before Wicket.

New batsmen, Nav and Matty made running between wickets look like a choreographed WWE fight sequence; ducks, feints, a mid pitch clothes-lining and direct hit from the deep to remove Angus.

Ray was caught and Harley got a 5 for!

The old man can die happy. His life’s work complete…

The collapse only slowed when Weston smashed an edge to the keeper that JL signaled wide.  Sheepishly, he went on to hit two sixes to finish.

And that… is how umpiring is done in this competition.

Darrell padded up and walked out to the middle, watched Leon hit the maximums, and walked back without contribution, and was as graceful and humble about it, as you can imagine…

Other non-contributors included Joe, who was preparing to bat by doing throw downs with his son... AND DOING THE THROWING!?!

At least he was wearing actual pads, I suppose. To throw in.

We finished with a mighty 8 for 241 off the full 35 overs. What a difference 20 years makes. How the tides had turned! With the pirate flag flying from the shelter, tea was more like a family picnic if you were raised by bikie gang or an Islamic death cult. Quinny recounted the negotiations required to acquire the flag from an 8-year-old girl’s tree house.

‘Please just take the flag. And promise you will never try to make contact with our mother again…’

It was always going to be a difficult chase, and we gave them as many chances in the field as is sporting, but they lost wickets regularly and never really looked like a chance.

Darrell opened the bowling and had spat the dummy by his second over. Ray attempted to talk him down from mid on, counseling him between bursts of expletives, but it was to no avail.

He bowled 6 overs before refusing to bowl any more, frustratingly, with half decent figures of 1 for 25. 

Mind you, the only reason he still gets selected is because he’s a carrying member of a gun club, and no one has the courage to tell him otherwise.

Ray opened with a spell from the other end bowling 7 overs 1 for 34, and really should bowl more. Matt bowled 7 overs and 2 for 42 before he did a hammy and was forced to limp the plank.

Joe bowled a 20-ball two over spell. His first 11 ball over for went 10 runs, and the second; a tidy 6 by comparison, to finish with 0 for 16. Another couple of overs and he would have bowled the standard 42 balls.

I suppose if you are not going to get another over, you might as well make it last. Number 2 bowled both kinds of music: Leon, and Weston to finish with 1 for 4 off 1. Another under utilised resource.

Pedestrian Dave bowled 5 overs and took 2 for 13 at the death, [6 of those being wides] and closed out the game bowling to Lowther.

I couldn’t help myself: I was rooting for underdog, even if he had done a little poo in his pants.

He carried his bat as they ran out of overs with only 161 on the board and we won by nearly 80 runs.

The Crownies came out in the golden light of the setting sun, and the fines session was like a roll call of dropped sitters on the boundary:

Matty Angus [present], JL [present], Nav [present], Darrell?

Darrell had gone home…

Alex Quin won the ‘Hot for 12 Cold for 24’ award for his massive knock and in a move that can only be described as Jack Sparrow-esque, then spun the wheel back at the club to win the meat raffle.

It was truly his day… and a convincing win to seal 4 in a row. With as many wins as losses behind us, we have leapt from the bottom of the ladder, and into the 4.  

Our focus will now have to shift from ‘access and inclusivity’, to qualifying our best players for finals.

Which leaves two questions on everybody’s lips...

Is this curtains for Joe Dirt?

And how many holes in a straw?

[kansascityhappenings]

Zip Trip: Four places you have to stop at during a trip to Weston

WESTON, Mo. — If you are looking for a fun day trip in the Kansas City area to take with your family, look no further than Weston, Missouri.

This historic town dates back to Lewis and Clark, who came through the area in 1804. Weston used to be the final town many pioneers would stop in to gather supplies before heading out into the country “West-On”.

It’s thrived all these years to become a fun bed-and-breakfast community with unique bars, plenty of wine and lots of music.

If you visit, there are four places you must-see. The first is the Holladay Distillery. It’s right outside of town.

The first must-see stop is the Holladay Distillery

Ben Holladay founded the distillery in 1856. At that same time, he owned the largest stagecoach company in the United States.

He and his brother discovered some the limestone springs in the area were perfect for making whiskey – whiskey better than that made in Kentucky.

“We have over 160 years of history,” Holladay Distillery employee Jordan Germano said. “We’ve actually been recognized by the Kansas City business journal as the oldest continually operating business in the Kansas City area. There is so, so much to see out here. anything from our water source all the way to how we make our product to where we bottle it.”

They recently opened an event space on the grounds for free liquor tasting, and they give tours of their facility. They stopped making bourbon years ago but recently resumed the process with the original recipe, hoping to begin sell bottles of it real soon.

Stop number two is Weston’s Red Barn Farm

Another must-see is Weston’s Red Barn Farm. For thirty years families have been going there to learn about agriculture and farm animals. They have horses, cows, chickens, pigs and other animals, and they harvest apples and pumpkins in the fall.

“Kids don’t get a lot of information about agriculture this generation, and it’s fun to share it with folks,” owner Steve Frey said. “There aren’t a lot of grandma type farms you can go visit, and so this gives them a chance to put what they’re learning to read with what’s here, so we have a lot of families come out to the farm.”

The third must-see stop on the list the Green Dirt Farm.

Many families also love visiting the Green Dirt Farm . For the last eleven years, the owners have been milking sheep on a farm in Weston. It’s one of the only farms in the United States that milks sheep, and they make cheese with it.

That type of sheep cheese is very popular in Europe but is very rare in the United States.

A tour of the creamery costs $15, and it includes tasting the eight different types of sheep cheese they make at their creamery. They also have a restaurant where you can swing by for a bite to eat.

The fourth must-see stop is O’Malley’s underground pub.

And one of the most unique places to visit is O’Malley’s Pub. Connected to the Weston Brewing Company, O’Malley’s is one of the only underground pubs in the entire nation. Back in 1842 they fermented beer in the underground limestone cave because the temperature stayed a constant 55-degrees. Today, they use it as a pub, and musicians from all over the world come here to play. The owner says he loves living in Weston.

“Weston is one of those towns where there just aren’t many places left that are like it,” Michael Coakley said. “Small town. Bucolic. We have our nice little main street. A great place to raise kids. We’ve kind of stopped in time in some ways and it’s really hard to get that back, so a super special place.”

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports https://fox4kc.com/2019/05/17/zip-trip-four-places-you-have-to-stop-at-during-a-trip-to-weston/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2019/05/17/zip-trip-four-places-you-have-to-stop-at-during-a-trip-to-weston/