#you think i’m going to play a fucking violin for the way that disgusting man has been treated?

[faithinlouisfuture]

louis did not invite him - you are so confidently saying this, are you Louis and know exactly what he did and how he did it? Because we don’t actually know. I’m gonna laugh at you lot when Louis once again defends Liam and says that he’s a lovely boy.

“Just trying to enjoy Louis” just say you don’t wanna hold him accountable and go

i’ve never had a problem holding louis accountable, just say you don’t even follow me and are camping here to spread your unwarranted louis hate and go

[jojotaxevasion]

Joestars Family Gathering HCs

WARNING: POTENTIAL SPOILERS

Also sorry for not posting in forever and the fact that this just slowly gets worse xd

My dad installed parental controls and turned on exclude all non allowed sites

including tumblr :(((

but I managed to disable it >:D

Johnathan: The Nice Relative

He's the one who hosts the parties because the rest of them aren't willing to have their houses absolutely fucking destroyed

No matter what happens, he smiles and laughs as the rest of the family runs around the mansion, accidentally destroying multiple very expensive things in the process.

As a conversationist, he's very nice to everyone, and always listens to anybody and pretends to not be offended at all.

"Oh! No, it's fine, Its an easy repair!" *Meanwhile in the background, curtains are ripped off, the windows are broken, the rug is on fire, the kitchen table has a leg missing*

oh yeah did I mention he does all of this shit himself

Joseph: The Extremely Strange Relative

Oh boy, this man has seen some shit!

He will always tell tales of his grand escapades at the dinner table, about the time he met a human bubble dispenser, partnered up with *GERMAN SOLDIER*s, found out that his extremely hot mentor was actually his mom which made the entire thing where he looked through the keyhole extremely awkward and fought the three Aztec gods of fitness and their one child whose names happen to be eerily close to names of rock bands.

He then has to fight off everyone else saying that his stories are fake, despite the evidence that proves it.

By the way, all of this actually happened.

"OH WOE IS ME, Y/N!! NOBODY BELIEVES ME WHEN I SAY THAT I SLAPPED THE BAND CARS INTO SPACE WITH MY SEVERED ARM!!!!"

Jotaro: The Quiet Relative

He just sits in a corner and doesn't talk at all.

If someone comes up to him, he just answers their query in an extremely blunt fashion and stops all eye contact.

"Yes Y/N, starfish can walk. Now go away."

Josuke: The Offensive Relative

He keeps cracking adult jokes like he does to his friends.

He also has very controversial opinions, both serious and non-serious.

e.g. Aliens are real (Mikitaka lmao), pineapple belongs on pizza, etc...

As much as you want to laugh at all his jokes and tell him how funny he is, you have to pretend to be disgusted because everyone else is, pepe the frog sadge moment...

"I’VE COME TO MAKE AN ANNOUNCEMENT! DIO'S A BITCHASS MOTHERFUCKER! HE PISSED ON MY FUCKING GREAT GREAT GRANDPA! (Johnathan I think) THAT’S RIGHT, HE TOOK HIS NONEXISTENT SPIKY DICK OUT, AND HE PISSED ON MY FUCKING GREAT GREAT GRANDPA! AND HE SAID THAT HIS DICK WAS “sO pOwErFuL” AND I SAID “THAT’S DISGUSTING!” SO I’M MAKING A CALLOUT POST ON MY TWITTER.COM! DIO, YOU GOT A SMALL DICK! IT’S THE SIZE OF STEELY DAN'S STAND, EXCEPT WAY SMALLER! AND GUESS WHAT?! HERE’S WHAT REAL DICK POWER LOOKS LIKE!"

He then proceeds to destroy the entire house and then fix it, before breaking it again.

Giorno: The Talented Relative

Giorno is a man of many talents. Literally.

As the kid of DIO, he was encouraged to be extra special by his biological father after being taken out of his abusive household.

On top of run the biggest mafia family in Italy, he can play the piano and violin, draw realistic stuff far better than the most talented people on Fiverr, cook extremely high-quality food, and negotiate his way out of basically anything thrown at him.

Oh yeah, and let's not forget the infamous SHOVE YOUR EAR INSIDE YOUR FUCKING EAR CANAL-

Although he is talented, he is still super well rounded, and whenever someone complements him, he always tries to downplay his own talent and pulls the uno reverse card and complements their talents.

Overall, super chill, very nice.

"Oh no, what you just witnessed was something that rarely happens, usually I'm way worse than that..."

Jolyne: The Cool Relative

Man, she is C O O L

You look up to her for her high levels of S W A G, something about all that confidence and badass energy oozing out of her like the disappointment of the Hollow Knight community when Silksong is delayed for the 69420th time. (Haha obscure joke)

The fact that she's a basically a vigilante hero just adds to that.

Also gives good but also bad advice about life in general, and helps you with a lot of things.

Yeah not much to say lmao

"You see Y/N, when someone insults you or your parental figures, don't try to negotiate peacefully. Instead, the REAL way to deal with those kinds of people, is to BEAT THE EVERLOVING SHIT OUT THEM-"

Johnny: The Relative Who Lives In The Middle of Nowhere

Bro really lives in the middle of nowhere

As in a farm somewhere in the wheat fields of the midwestern US

He usually doesn't show up half the time, mostly because something weird happened along the way.

"I would ride my tractor here, but apparently I can't do that..."

Jo2uke: I COULDNT THINK OF ANYTHING FOR HIM IM SORRY-

[pillow-anime-talk]

busy boys.

request: hello! im pretty new to this like ask thingy.. but i really really like your writing so much! especially the tatsuya one! can i request like an angst with aomine or seijuro being too busy with their practices and games that the reader is very neglected so she feels sad about it and it ends with a nsfw? like a make up scene? thank u so much!

# tags: scenarios; current relationships; aged up; angst; smut; maybe some fluff; nsfw

warnings: mention of sex or sexual activities; semi-public sex, tits play, dirty talk, hair pulling, blow/handjob, praise kink, pet names

includes: female reader ft. daiki aomine & seijuurou akashi {knb}

author’s note: thank youuuuuu so much :(((

— DAIKI

“Y/N-chan?” You turned to look at Momoi who approached you. “Do you... have a moment?”

“Sure, Momoi-chan.” You smiled gently and then grabbed her hand to move closer to the window, ‘cause you don’t want to disturb the other students who were walking at the hall. “What happened?”

“I know we’re all busy by final exams right now, but... It’s about Dai-kun...” She started shyly, and you sighed tiredly. “I feel like we’re in first grade once again! Daiki doesn’t come to trainings again. He’s rude to other students and managers. Could you please... Could you please talk to him? We have an important game against Shuutoku soon and we need to train to get it right. If Daiki-kun doesn’t start coming to training, the trainer will get upset on all of us...” She said sadly, and you nodded, understanding the problem.

“Recently we have... quiet days with Daiki.” You sighed and the pink-haired girl looked up at you in shock. “But I’ll talk to him, of course. I’ll do what I can, Momoi.”

“Thank you, really.” She breathed a sigh of relief, then took your hand. “Today we’re training again, so Daiki should be on the roof after classes. Let’s hope he agrees to come. He may even be late, but it’s important that he shows up on gym. It will mean a lot to our team.”

You nodded, smiling warmly at her. You said again that after lessons you would go talk to the ace of the squad, then you said ‘Goodbye’ to her and went to your class for Japanese literature lesson. Of course, you were planning in your head how to ask Aomine to play with the team again. 

{ ･ﾟ✧ }

You packed your books to your bag and then left the classroom. One of your close friends asked if you wanted to come back with her, but you refused, saying that you need to talk to your boyfriend.

So, without waiting for anything, you made your way to the roof of Touou High School. Fortunately, the weather was nice and there was no wind, so you smiled a little as you felt the pleasant rays of the sun on your face. But then you quickly reached the ladder to climb onto the next, much smaller roof. This is where Daiki usually slept; no matter if he should be in class or training.

And, of course, he slept there, safe and sound, immensely content and as if not worried about the consequence. You coughed softly, grabbing the attention of the basketball player.

“Oi. Y/N.” He said, then closed his eyes again. “Satsuki sent you to me?”

“So mean.” You grunted as you put your hand on your hip. “Why don’t you go to training again? What happened?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t want. I’m bored there.” He replied lowly, yawning.

“And yet, when you have free time, you play alone on the basketball court in the park and you won’t even write to me, asking if I would like to go out with you. You can’t fool me, do you know that? You still love basketball, you just don’t have a good opponent once again. And that’s funny because you’re going to be playing another match soon. Interestingly, supposedly this will be the Midorima-kun’s team. Without training, I don’t think you can handle his and Takao-kun’s three-point shoots.”

“I can handle it. I always win.” He muttered, and you chuckled under your breath, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I don’t think so, but fine. What do I have to do to get you to training. You worry your friend and the rest of the team.” You took a deep breath as you looked at the orange-yellow sun. “I just want you to spend more time with people who like and love you.”

“I don’t know Y/N. Maybe if you gave me a blowjob I would go, but now let me sleep. I’m so fucking tired.” He still had his eyes closed, so he didn’t see your disgusted expression, but after a while you clicked your tongue.

‘I promised Momoi. I promised Momoi. I promised Momoi. I’m doing it for Momoi-chan. Only for Momoi-chan.’ You kept repeating in your head, taking off the panties that were hidden under your navy blue skirt. You quickly put them in the school bag, which you placed gently on the ground. And then you walked towards Aomine, almost on stiff legs, begging no one to climb onto the roof.

Then you sat on your boyfriend’s thighs and immediately took off his pants. Your movements woke Aomine who opened one eye.

“I can’t believe you want to do this.”

“I’m not giving you a blowjob, you disgusting bastard.” You grunted as you finally removed his pants and boxers. You quickly grabbed his huge dick in your hand. “After that you go to training, do you understand?” You snarled as you moved forward. You guided the head of his thicc cock at your entrance, then slowly fell down, moaning. You closed your mouth quickly with one hand. Daiki, on the other hand, smiled as he caught your hips.

“If you do it right, I can go to training.”

“You little bitch.” You grunted as you tugged on his tie. “You have to go to training and to the match with team.”

“Only if you’ll ride my cock well, doll. Show me how much you care about it, then I’ll think about it.” He smiled disgustingly as he allowed himself to unbutton your uniform shirt. “Oi, oi. Is it for me?” He asked, running a finger over the white, delicate lace. “Cute.”

You jumped on the boy’s thighs, riding him calmly. “Why haven’t you been writing to me in the last few days?” You asked softly while purring at the pleasant touch of your boyfriend’s hand on your chest.

“I don’t know, I’ve been busy.”

“Busy with playing on court with your own stupid ass, basketball lover?” You were teasing.

“Shut up.” He growled as he tucked his fingers under your bra. After a while you felt his fingers squeeze both of your tits. You rested your own forehead on his shoulder, still rolling your hips. After a while, however, your moves became faster, almost desperate, and your boobs jumped in his hands, bringing a smile to his tanned face.

A second later, a warm tongue wrapped around one of the hard nipple, and your walls tightened on the basketball player’s cock, making him grow throaty.

“Basketball lover likes it when his girlfriend rides his cock, huh?” You laughed, tugging at his hair and causing his face to look straight at yours. “If you will be a polite, big boy and you don’t let me down, I’ll do that more often.”

“Stop teasing me.”

“Why?” You pulled on him even tighter, still jumping on his narrow hips. “Don’t you like when I glorify your basketball skills? When I admire you in your Touou basketball outfit? You don’t even know how I like the shorts you wear at matches. My dream is to be fucked by the number 5 basketball player in his jersey.”

A few simple sentences and you immediately felt the warmth spreading inside you. I don’t think you ever got Aomine to come so fast. You smiled triumphantly.

“Och. Are you out of shape because we haven’t seen each other for such a long time?” You laughed.

“Shut the fuck up. Second round.” He grabbed your hand, but you just kissed him on the thin lips and stood up.

“After training. Of course, if you show up there, basketball lover.”

“I’ll go! Shit, okay, I’ll go!” He growled loudly, wiping the sweat off his forehead and neck. “You’d better be prepared for this jersey fuck.”

— SEIJUUROU

Akashi has always had a lot stuff to do; family matters, student council, school and his passions, including basketball, shogi, piano and violin. That’s why there are times when both of you didn’t talk for two or three days. You fully understood him and often between lessons, before the breakfast break, you would leave a bento on his desk with a small piece of paper on which you would write that he ‘should take care of himself and not skip meals’. Seijuurou always appreciated it, but he couldn’t say it out loud. However, you didn’t blame him.

This time, however, your boyfriend didn’t talk to you for more than three days. He hadn’t said a single word in your direction all week, nor did he write a message, which was strange to him, because he always thanked you for the breakfast you brought him. But not this time.

You felt a bit bad about that fact. In addition, you knew that the next Winter Cup games were coming; you wanted to support your man in this, but maybe... he didn’t want to? You sighed softly as you bit your pen.

You have decided that when you finish your homework, you will visit him at his residence.

{ ･ﾟ✧ }

Half an hour ago you said ‘Goodbye’ to your mom and said you’ll be back tonight or tomorrow after dinner (because is Friday right now so you have a weekend for yourself). Your parents liked Akashi very much, so they didn’t worry about how much time will you spend with him, by the way. They trusted him; the more that he always drove you to your home after all your dates.

So now you were standing in front of the big house. You rang the bell and greeted the housekeeper on the other side, saying your name and the reason for coming. Everyone in the residence knew you well and the old lady gladly let you in and then offered you some white tea. Of course you thanked but also saying that you came to see Seijuurou ‘cause you were worried about him. The woman nodded, saying that she wouldn't come upstairs to not disturb you two. You bowed and started walking towards the huge chestnut stairs that led up.

And then you knocked on a well-known door and walked in as soon as you heard ‘Come in’.

“Sei.” You smiled gently as you locked the door. “I’m don’t bother you?”

“Y/N. What are you doing here? It’s late.” He got up from his chair and put down the book he was reading, then walked towards you.

“It’s fine. I just wanted to see if everything was okay. We haven’t spoken recently... You understand.”

The pink-haired boy nodded and sighed delicately as he grabbed your hand. After a while he kissed your knuckles.

“I’m sorry, love. Due to the Winter Cup and trainings, I have no time or desire for anything else. I’ll try to be better. Maybe you want some tea? We’ll talk and then I’ll drive you to home back.” He replied honestly, and you just stroked his cheek and shook your head, surprising him. “So what do you want to do?”

“Can we hug? I missed you so much.” You asked softly, at which he smiled fondly and nodded once again. After a while you pulled him onto his bed and nestled against his chest, breathing calmly.

You spent a few longer seconds this way until you tilted your head back and kissed the basketball player on the lips. He kissed you back, of course, and you quickly lifted your body to sit on his thighs. You embraced the eighteen-year-old’s neck gently, and he placed his hands on your hips. You pressed your crotch a little harder on him, making a soft hiss.

After a while you directed your mouth to Akashi’s sharp jaw and warm, pale neck. You stroked his hair and neck without rushing, and kissed him at the same time. From time to time you were coming back to his tasty mouth, purring with pleasure. At one point, you felt a pleasant shiver as Akashi ran his hands over your thighs, squeezing the soft skin.

You moved away a little and then lay on your stomach, right in front of your boyfriend’s pants. The basketball player looked at you in surprise.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?” You smiled as you slide down his tracksuits and then his underwear as well. “Let me take care of you. You deserve it after all this hard work.” You said softly, looking down. “Anyway, I can’t leave you now.” You added teasingly, grabbing his half-hard dick with your hand.

At first you turned him on with your hand; your slow, steady moves made Akashi close his eyes while stroking your fluffy hair. You took your time, knowing that you both didn’t like it. Only after a long moment did you lean in, kissing his head; then you opened your mouth, sucking hard the tip of his cock.

You ate him like a pro, sometimes helping yourself with your both hands, because let’s face it, your boyfriend is big. He may be the lowest in his basket team, but he definitely has a lot to offer. That’s why you used to have serious problems with satisfying him because you were choking before. Luckily it was fine now, so from time to time you looked up at your very satisfied boyfriend’s face. His eyes were closed, and his hand moved to your ruddy cheek. You smiled as you kissed his head once more, then stepped back, still working your hand.

“Such a good boy. You’re wonderful and beautiful, baby.” You praised him by squeezing his thigh lightly. “You can definitely handle training and matches, I believe it, Sei. There is nobody better than you.”

“Y/N...” His cheeks flushed slightly which was a rare sight. Whenever you praised him, Akashi felt like he had a third personality who likes to be submissive.

“My lovely boy is so brave. I’ll show you how much you mean to me and how much I missed you. Never leave me alone for so long again, okay?” You grunted as you folded another kiss and then put his wet cock in your mouth again.

[shutupanakin]

Wasting Your Time ch. 5

“Wh— what?” Tommy choked out, his voice hoarse from the lack of use all day.

The man rolled his eyes, as if he didn’t just ask a completely impolite question. “I said, do you have any booze?”

Tommy sat still. He reached into his jacket pocket, his hand finding only a plastic pen. Could he stab this man with a plastic pen?

Tommy pulled said piece of plastic out, visibly holding it up. “I have a pen.” Something about the bemused look on the man's face made Tommy click it, and again, repeatedly.

click click click click click click click click—

...

or; Tommy planned on dying. He meets Wilbur instead.

first chapter here and crossposted here

Tommy had made sure he had tied his shoelaces, this time.

Tommy had the time to make sure that his shoelaces were tied, because he wasn’t in a rush to get to the station compared to last week. The thought caused ghost pains to flare up in his knee, but he knew it had stopped aching days ago. The scrapes in his hands faded with them.

Not quick enough though, because Sam had noticed. He only noticed when no was pulling at the thread in his jacket, trying to explain why he wanted to change his major.

“ I— I don’t think I like architecture,” Tommy admitted, his voice tight.

Sam was tired; Tommy could see it in the way his eyes drooped. Tommy felt bad, keeping him up. Sam needed his rest. He had an early shift i. This could wait, Tommy decided. He wouldn’t bother Sam with his nonsense, not tonight. That wasn’t fair of Tommy.

“Sor—sorry,” Tommy said, pushing his chair back. “You can go to bed, I’ll—”

Tommy nearly jumped out of his skin at Sam grabbing his wrist, quickly letting go at Tommy’s nervous yelp“Sorry,” Sam quickly apologized. Tommy avoided his eyes. “What happened to your hands?”

Tommy's eyes fell down to his palms— he didn’t think Sam would have noticed. “I fell,” Tommy mumbled, sitting back in his seat at the unsteady kitchen table.

“You don’t like architecture?” Sam asked, Tommy nodding vigorously. Not liking it was a severe understatement. Tommy would say that he was miserable— miserable enough to go to the tube station once a week in the middle of the night to talk with a man he would argue knew more about him than Sam.

Tommy wouldn’t tell him that though. He wouldn't tell him about Wilbur.

“I want— I want to change it,” Tommy said finally. “we don’t have to right now of course,” Tommy added. “I don’t want to stress you out or, or—”

“Tommy,” Sam stopped him. His voice was incredibly soft. “It’s fine.”

Tommy was now in the process of switching from architecture to film and production; if Sam didn’t like it, he didn’t show it. He was the utmost supportive, frustratingly so to Tommy. Tommy had expected to be yelled at, to be told off.

He almost wanted to be told off, because that would mean that he was right, and he would have felt less guilty for waiting this long and to assume Sam would pressure him into continuing something he had no passion for.

The robotic voice of the intercom snapped Tommy out of his mind, announcing the incoming train. He wasn’t alone on the platform this time. There was a woman who stood several meters away. Tommy had politely nodded at her when he arrived. She nodded in response.

When it arrived, the metallic doors slid open, and Tommy booked it to the back. There was no one, no man sitting back here this time. Just Tommy, and eventually Wilbur. The woman sat in the middle, the back of her head facing him.

Tommy scrolled through his phone— he wanted to check if Tubbo or Ranboo had texted him yet. They had stopped asking him to get on-call during the night on Tuesday, used to being turned down. Only Tubbo had asked him what he had gotten up to when Tommy was going to see Wilbur. Tommy, fortunately, did not have to come up with an excuse because Ranboo scolded him for prying.

Tommy allowed himself to wonder if Wilbur’s friends had wondered what he was doing; though that burned out because from the way the man talked it didn’t sound like he had any friends.

He had a brother, Tommy knew that. He had some sort of past with Jack, which got him banned from his shop. Tommy recalled him briefly describing a sweater buddy and his gambling buddy, but it didn’t sound like either of them were in his life.

Tommy was pretty sure he hadn’t even given him their names. That was… startling, Tommy realized. Just how little Tommy actually knew about Wilbur. It was even more startling that Tommy wasn’t sure if he wanted to know more, either. Wilbur existed out of their friendship, out of the hours in the past month they had spent together— the image was difficult to imagine.

But that was ridiculous because Wilbur existed and he had a life outside of Tommy; it was selfish to think otherwise.

“You are thinking too hard,” Like a knife through butter, Wilbur’s voice cut through Tommy’s thoughts. Tommy’s head shot up, pocketing his phone. Tommy scooted over a bit so Wilbur would have more room.

They had stopped. With a quick scan, Tommy can guess that Wilbur got on alone. The woman was still there. “How could you tell?”

Wilbur pointed at his forehead. “I can see a vein.” Tommy scoffed, slapping the man’s hand away as Wilbur laughed. “How did it go with Sam?” Wilbur asked in between giggles.

“Got a new major!” Tommy beamed, his smile wide. “Bye-bye architect. Sam took it better than expected.”

“That is good!” Wilbur celebrated. “Do you know when you start your new classes?”

“No,” Tommy shook his head. “We are still in the process of switching. It’s dropped now though.”

Wilbur frowned, his eyebrows turning down in thought. “Why did it look like you were about to pop a vein then?”

Oh , Tommy thinks. He could lie— Wilbur would catch it. Wilbur would know. Wilbur would push.

“I was thinking about you, honestly,” Tommy confessed.

They stopped. A trio of young adults got on.

“Oh,”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Tommy sighed. “I was just thinking—”

“I could tell.” Wilbur hummed.

“Fuck off— I was just thinking…” Tommy trailed. “I hardly know anything about you, yeah? You know my friend’s names and about Sam and what I’m studying in college and I…” Tommy stopped, realizing that he was rambling. “Sorry.” “You should stop doing that,” Wilbur said, Tommy furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“Stop what?”

“Apologizing. You do it a lot. You do not owe everyone an apology for speaking, Tommy.” Wilbur explained.

Tommy was slack-jawed. He wouldn’t say that he had a problem . “It’s courtesy.”

“Nothing about you is courteous.”

“You are avoiding telling me about yourself, Wilbur. You can’t get out of this by trying to psychoanalyze me.” Tommy huffed. “No, no! I’m dancing through your mind games this time, big dubs. I’m going to be the one doing the mind gaming.”

“The mind gaming?”

Tommy nodded. “You are going to be so mind gamed.”

“Okay,” Wilbur laughed. “Mind game me.”

“What’s your brother's name?”

“Techno,” Wilbur answered simply.

Tommy scoffed. “There is no way that’s his name. What’s his real name?”

“Technoblade.”

“That’s even worse.” Tommy groaned. Wilbur was bullshitting him. He had to be. “You’re lying to me.”

“I would not lie to you,” Wilbur stated. Tommy’s lips turned down in a frown.

“You wouldn’t?” “Never.” They stopped. The woman got off.

“What’s he like?” Wilbur was silent, his forehead creasing. “A real nerd. He is really deep into mythology, and that type of stuff. I played guitar, he did violin. I tried to get into parties, Techno was worried about his fucking— fencing finals.” Wilbur gestures.

“He sounds cool,” Tommy said. Wilbur made a noise that sounded of exasperation.

“He is a hardass.”

A shocked laugh escaped Tommy’s mouth, dissolving into a fake cover-up cough. “Is it because his name is Technoblade?” Tommy wasn’t looking at Wilbur, but he could feel the man’s eyes roll. “Are you not going to let that go?” “Ah big man, I’m never letting that go. You’re related to someone called Technoblade.” Tommy teased, knowing that he was pushing it, leering at him. He knew Wilbur could snap at him in annoyance and shut down his next question— Tommy had faith that he wouldn’t though.

“He is my twin actually.”

Tommy choked. “There’s more than one of you?”

“No, no,” Wilbur interjected. “There is just one of me, I am afraid.”

“Unfortunately.” Tommy agreed, mockery lacing his voice. “Do you like him?”

“Course?” Wilbur creased his brows. “Just because we are different does not mean we do not love each other.”

They stopped. The group got off— two men took their place.

Tommy thought of Sam, and quickly shut that thought out. He slammed the door and swallowed the key; this wasn’t about Tommy, this wasn’t about Sam.

“And he likes you?”

“He does.” Wilbur mused. “I think the word you are looking for is love , Tommy.”

Tommy groaned in disgust. “Don’t say it.” He whined.

“ Love, love, love —” Wilbur taunted in a sing-song voice that made Tommy want to get off at the next stop.

“Stop— stop that!” Tommy hissed. “And you call me a child!” Wilbur made an amused sound. “You are a child.” “Why do you talk like that?” Tommy pressed, now agitated.

“Like what?” Wilbur’s eyes blew open.

“Like— that. You are . Say you’re.”

Wilburs face grew into a cheeky grin, and Tommy wanted to punch him. “ You’re a child.

“I...I— and you’re a fucking old man!”

“I am twenty-four!” Wilbur cried.

“That’s ancient,” Tommy replied. “that’s at least two decades.”

“Two decades—” Wilbur repeated, breaking off into a laugh. The train stopped and Wilbur got up, still shaking with laughter. “It wasn’t that funny,” Tommy commented, trailing the man out of the sliding metal doors.

“I thought it was hilarious.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Absolutely not,” Wilbur denied. “You should do standup.”

They passed a woman on the stairs on their way out; Tommy ignoring the disgusted look she passed in his direction.

“Do people just naturally dislike you?” Tommy asked, his mind drifting back to the faceless strangers that had the misfortune of sharing the tube with Tommy and Wilbur. “I think they are looking at you,” Wilbur speculated.

“Wha... ? ” Tommy trailed. “ Pft , nah. People love me. Especially women you know.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

Tommy blew air out of his nose in frustration. They were approaching the flickering Jack of All Trades sign. “I’m going to prove you wrong— so wrong. You’re gonna beg for my forgiveness when you see all the numbers I’m drowning in.”

Wilbur looked at the flickering sign. The A in Jack had gone completely out. “I hope you understand that Manifold doesn’t count.”

Tommy didn’t dignify Wilbur with a response, entering the shop instead. The bell dinged over his head.

Tommy blinked.

There was a woman at the counter.

Why does this keep happening to him?

Tommy knew that realistically, he couldn’t be Jack’s only customer. That’s not how you keep a business open; Tommy understood that. Tommy was just— Tommy had gone in here every Tuesday night, between eleven pm and twelve am, and it was empty besides himself and Jack.

“Heya Tommy!” Jack peaked over the woman, waving him over. “I was just wonderin’ when you’d show up. Telling Niki about ya.”

Oh, so this was just Jack’s friend. Thank god. Tommy couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Jack was waiting for him. “I thought you had another customer. Was worried I had competition.” Tommy reached into the bowl, scanning the pins.

Jack looked at the pink-haired woman, who had been dubbed Niki. “He’s joking. I get plenty of customers.”

“I believe you, Jack.” Tommy caught her eyes, pulling out a pin with a music disc printed on it. The upturn of the corner of her mouth and her little head shake told Tommy otherwise

“I don’t,” Tommy deadpanned, placing the pin and the pounds on the counter. “Me and my pins keep this place alive, you know.”

“That is entirely untruthful.”

Tommy hummed. “You’re in denial. It’s the first stage of grief. It’s okay, Jack. We’re here for you.” Tommy looked at Niki. “Well, she is. I got a train to catch and a friend to annoy. See you next week!”

“Nice meeting you Tommy!” Niki said, Tommy giving her a small wave before exiting the shop.

Tommy immediately showed Wilbur the pin. “A vinyl,” Wilbur said with a hint of amusement.

Tommy scowled. “Music disc.”

“It is a vinyl.”

“Wrong, actually,” Tommy corrected, securing the pin into his jacket. “it’s a music disc.”

“It appears we are at a standoff,” Wilbur fiddled with his glasses, starting the walk back to the station.

“No, you are in a standoff with yourself. I am right.” Tommy insisted.

“You are definitely in a mood tonight,” Wilbur pointed, and Wilbur’s tone was light and joking and of course he didn’t mean anything bad by it but— the comment made Tommy’s feet stick to the ground. Was he?

Wilbur must’ve realized he wasn’t being followed, because moments later he turned to see Tommy’s state of immobility.

“That isn’t a bad thing,” Wilbur was quick to comfort.

Although his expression and voice were genuine, Tommy still faltered. Whatever faux confidence he had gained was gone now. The persona was gone, leaving just… him . He thought Wilbur was enjoying the bit. “I… I could stop if it’s annoying?”

Wilbur’s expression was soft. “Do not worry about it.” He said. “You having fun is not annoying,” Wilbur reassured. Tommy didn’t reply. He forced his feet to move instead, so he could keep up with Wilbur. “I am sorry,” Wilbur added.

Tommy allowed himself to slip back in. He was fine. “Looks like you’re the one apologizing now, big man.”

“Oh man, you got me there.”

“A straight-up hypocrite you are.” Tommy chimed. “Are you above your own morals, Wilbur?”

“I am, just a bit.”

“Elaborate on that?” “No, I do not think I will.”

“Fuck you.”

When they reached the station, Tommy realized they had narrowly avoided missing the train. Tommy let out several curses as the metal doors nearly shut on him. It wouldn’t have been the end of the world if they had missed it; Tommy and Wilbur would have had to wait fifteen minutes for the next one. It would have just been a disturbance in routine. Tommy hated those.

Tommy had blamed his near-breakdown for their tardiness, but also—

“Did you know Jack has friends ?” Tommy asked, sliding into his window seat. The train was more occupied than normal, so he kept his voice above a whisper for an attempt at politeness. There were only two other people in the back with them, a few seats ahead of Tommy and Wilbur’s.

“Was someone else in there?” Wilbur asked, Tommy nodding.

“I was absolutely scandalized, Will.”

Wilbur hummed in amusement. “Did you catch their name?”

“Oh— yeah . Uh. Niki.”

Wilbur was silent for a moment, and panic fluttered through Tommy’s chest, fearful that he might have brought up a possible bad memory, or one of the many someones Wilbur had pissed off that were just not in his life anymore,

Instead, Wilbur just smiled. “I know her,”

“Did you piss her off too?” Wilbur shook his head.

“She still visits me sometimes; you know Niki always brings the best flowers.” Wilbur thought. “Sometimes Jack comes with her, not in a bit though.”

“Wha’?” Tommy wondered. “I thought Jack hated you?”

“Where did you get that from?”

“You’re banned from his shop?” “Unrelated reasons,” Wilbur waved off.

Tommy squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Jesus fucking christ,” Tommy groaned. “you are a true enigma.”

They stopped; two women and a man got off.

“I know,” Wilbur says with a hint of pride.

“Mememememe—” Tommy mocked. “Am I the only one you terrorize?” “Nah. You are not the only one,” Wilbur said. “Techno is my neighbor. I terrorize him too.

Tommy massaged his temple. He didn’t know if Wilbur acting as he does with Tommy with others was concerning or reassuring. It certainly wasn’t jealousy that he was trying to massage out of his head. No, that would be ridiculous, Tommy decided. Wilbur had a brother. Wilbur had a family. Wilbur had other friends. Tommy was being ridiculous.

“I think I’m done mind gaming,” Tommy yawned.

“Are you?”

“Mm-hm.” Tommy hummed. “It’s exhausting. I don’t get how you can do it so easily.” “Practice,” Wilbur mused. “and I do not get tired.”

“Tubbo’s like that,” Tommy compares. Tubbo had dropped school completely at the beginning of September; his sleeping schedule suffered as a direct result. Tubbo would end up staying up for three days and proceeding to crash for thirty-seven hours.

They stopped, no one had left. But two men had entered, grabbing seats near the midsection.

“How is it going with them?” It took a moment for Tommy to realize just what Wilbur was asking Tommy. The troubles he had with Tubbo and Ranboo had been in the back of his mind.

Tommy had told them about dropping architecture before Sam, the night before Tommy had gone to him. Voiced his complaints and worries to them in a quiet voice in a discord call. Tubbo suggested being upfront and blunt about it, rip off the bandaid , Tubbo would say. Ranboo was Tubbo’s opposite, suggesting easing Sam into it.

“We’re— we’re good?” Tommy said. “They helped me, uh,” He pulled at the thread on his sleeve. “Helped me figure out how to approach Sam.”

A month ago, he wouldn’t have even bothered to go to them. Surely, they had better things to do together than listen to him complain .

A month ago, Tommy wouldn’t have bothered trying to switch. Sam was too busy, Sam was too good, and Tommy would’ve—

Tommy would have—

He didn’t, because of a now-forgotten deal with the man sitting next to him.

“You are thinking again,” Wilbur pointed out.

They stopped— Tommy sadly realized that the next one was Wilbur’s.

“I wish you would stop doing that,” Tommy whined, rolling his neck. “I know when I’m thinking, you don’t have to point it out.”

“What was it this time?”

“You,” Tommy admitted. “again.”

Wilbur’s expression was laced with amusement, his eyebrows raised above the circular glasses. “I am right here, you know.” A sigh climbed out of Tommy’s throat. “I know,” Tommy stressed. “I know that, obviously, you dickhead.” He grumbled.

“You want to share with the class then?” Wilbur joked, vaguely gesturing to the other passengers.

Tommy swallowed, tugging lightly at the thread. “I was thinking… I don’t know, man. About Sam, and Tubbo and Ranboo, and that shit and…” Tommy trailed. Wilbur was silent, nodding at Tommy to continue. Tommy mentally thanked him for the lack of smart remarks. “I wouldn’t have been able to talk to them— or, or Sam . I would have just…”

Tommy snapped his fingers. What was it? What was it? What was it—

Wilbur caught his stumbling. “Died?”

Tommy nodded, his throat tight. “Yeah— that. And I didn’t, yeah? I met you instead.”

“You are not alive just because of me, Tommy,” Wilbur said softly, and Tommy breathed in relief because Wilbur understood , he understood Tommy.

“But I am .” Tommy pressed desperately. “You… you—”

“I just gave you directions,” Wilbur interjected. “You are the one who mapped it out. You deserve that credit.”

Tommy shook his head in disagreement. “I could’ve gotten on another train, or you could have sat down somewhere else, and…”

“I think we still would have met,” Wilbur thought, and Tommy’s eyes moves from his palms to Wilbur’s face.

“You do?”

Wilbur hummed. “I do. Somehow, someway, in one way or another, we would have.”

Wilbur’s stop was coming up, the train was slowing. Tommy couldn’t help the frown that had formed on his face, because this conversation was far from over. Tommy hadn’t even built up to his thank you .

The train stopped, and Tommy gripped the plastic seat in front of him so tightly to keep himself from standing up and following Wilbur out.

“See you next week?” Tommy said instead. His knuckles were turning white.

“Of course,” Wilbur promised. “Remember what I said, okay?” Wilbur reminded.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy grumbled. “I think you’re wrong.” “I am never wrong,” Wilbur called confidently, and Wilbur was gone.

Tommy didn’t even get to say thank you , he thought bitterly. He would next week, whether Wilbur would accept it or not.

It was luck that Tommy had met him, not fate.

If Tommy had gotten on an earlier train, or a later one for that matter, he would’ve missed Wilbur. Tommy can picture Wilbur stumbling into the back of the near-empty train, and instead of greeting Tommy, he would sit down across from an empty seat.

Or maybe, Wilbur would go towards the front and start up a conversation with another stranger.

“You got any of that shit flavored candy?” Wilbur would ask the elder woman with the ruby-colored purse, because she had gotten on alone.

And Tommy would sit, alone. Working himself up to jumping. He wouldn’t have gotten off with Wilbur to go to Jack’s shop. Tommy’s jacket would be void of any pins, left blank.

Tommy ran his hands over the pins, rubbing his finger against the cool plastic of the new disc pin.

Wilbur started off as a distraction, someone who would merely delay the inevitable. A buffer. Then, he was a bet, a deal, testing to see who was correct and who was wrong. Tommy remembered the desperate feeling, wanting to prove to the smug bastard who looked like he knew everything that he could be wrong.

After that, he was just— Wilbur was just Tommy’s friend . He wasn’t a stranger or a delay, or a deal anymore.

Tommy had a million words and more on his tongue for Wilbur, but those will wait for now.

[peakywitch]

Cassiopeia - John Shelby

Warnings: mentions of blood, war, curse word...the normal!  

A/N: changed John’s kids name! also, it’ll be revised through these days, tell me if you see any mistakes! <3 

word count: 2.3k

my masterlist

The small footsteps of two mischievous children were heard throughout the house. It was very early, the sun was still down. The two opposing hands of the children were intertwined, guiding each other through the labyrinth into which the house was transformed when the moon rose. The old wood under their feet creaked with every step, which alerted his not-so-asleep father.

"What if he hits us?" Ben asked nervously.

"James has been telling you stories, right?"

The boy nodded sadly at his sister's question. His friend was frequently punished severely, but at the Shelby household, it was different.

"Don't worry, it's for a good cause. Besides, dad would never hit us." Winnie smiled, trying to see his brother's eyes in the dark.

A good cause? John thought, what would be so important to speak in the moonlight? He knew what his two kids were up to, but he stayed in bed, still being able to listen to the two of them talk. He wasn't going to get up, not until the sun comes up at least.

"Dad?" asked the voice of the girl, with a low and still voice "Are you awake?"

John turned his face on the pillow, seeing two heads - one with braids and one with blond hair, both disheveled - appear through the door. What the hell were Winnie and Ben doing up at such an early hour?

A sleepy voice invited them to climb onto the bed with them, Ben accepted immediately, almost jumping on his father. Winnie just sat on the end of the bed, watching John hug Ben.

"What are you two doing up so early?" he asked, as he gently combed his son's hair

"It’s Emma’s and Lottie’s birthday on Monday." Winnie whispered, not wanting to wake the smaller Shelbys sleeping in the next room.

"Yes, I know", he smiled "six years ... I don't understand where those six years have gone." He smiled wistfully. But even so, that smile showed a pride that was not visible in the moonlight.

"And we thought about whether we could bake a cake." Ben smiled.

John's eyes went to the boy's sugar-craving gaze. Then he saw her smile, which had a small window.

"So the good cause is cake, huh?" He smiled, giving Winnie a sense that his plan to be quiet had failed.

But even with a defeat, the girl smiled, as her hand traveled through the braid that John had awkwardly made.

“It's already Saturday, you don't have school. Why don't they go back to sleep? he asked, after a chat of flavors, colours and fillings.

Winnie nodded as she listened to Ben, who had been snoring from the beginning of the conversation.

"Aunt Pol, I need a favor." John asked, as he played with the toothpick between his lips.

Polly tore her eyes away from the journal for a few short seconds, seeing her nephew's pleading look. When she read the newspaper again, she spoke:

“I'll take care of the children today, John. But since you are always..."

"Actually, uh... the girls turn 6 on Monday, and I wanted to ask you if you could bake them a cake?" the doubt and confusion in John's voice led her aunt to laugh.

"When in your bloody life have you seen me bake a cake, huh?" she asked, putting the paper aside and taking the last sip of her tea.

"Yeah, well," he laughed, "I don't lose anything by trying, do I?"

Between a nostalgic chat about how they were six years ago, Polly remembered in an instant, interrupting John:

"Y/N!"

Polly's exclamation shook John's comfort, her screams were always sending him to the Calvary.

"Y/N?" he asked.

The name burned on the tip of his tongue and in the back of his head, unable to remember who it was. He had known a nurse of that name, but it couldn't be because some enemies had killed her in front of him.

“Do you remember Karl's cake? That delicacy of chocolate, hazelnut and caramel?” his aunt answered with a question, trying to enliven the memory.

How could he forget that cake.

The cake was soft as a cloud, the chocolate intense and the caramel had a few notes of salt that made your tongue dance. John had never tasted a better cake than that. Also, he had eaten three servings. Faced with the memory, he laughed:

"How could I forget the stomach ache that lasted for two days, ey?" Polly grinned "Never such a beautiful pain."

They both laughed.

John's feet were constantly changing position. He was alone in a neighboring town from Small Heath, an hour away from his home. The address Polly had given him must be wrong since it was not a bakery; it was a simple English house. It had some rose bushes in the small front garden and a bird feeder in a vibrant little lemon tree. The aesthetics of the home were out of tune with John in an extraordinary way. The striking difference between the green of the home and the black of his clothes made him feel like an outcast.

Somewhat uncomfortable and hesitant, he headed for the door. It was then that he could hear the subtle violin that came from the house, also a piano. The atmosphere was so mellow, it almost completely calmed John's nerves. With the piano in the background, he knocked on the door. The music did not stop. From what he knew, the music that was playing came from a gramophone.

A woman in her forties opened the door for him, her blonde hair was down and her eyes were tired, but still had a smile from ear to ear.

"Yes?" she asked, without moving her smile.

"Good afternoon, ma'am" smiled John, taking off his hat "I'm looking for Mrs. Y/N ..."

Mrs? John asked himself, since when did he say he was looking for a Mrs?

The woman called out the name, and within seconds an old woman appeared in front of him.

"Are you Y/N?" asked John.

"So it is, dear." The lady's smile denoted fatigue but a strange feeling of youth.

Uncharacteristically shy, John explained his situation.

"Oh, great, great!" He smiled, and invited him in.

The lady, without asking much, sat the unknown gangster on a pink sofa with flowers and black wooden armrests. John could observe that the music came from a phonograph, it had been almost twenty years since he had seen one, they were not so common anymore.

After a few moments of inspecting the curious and cozy house from that old-fashioned sofa, the lady appeared with two aprons: both pink, with ruffles and embroidery.

"Very good," the lady smiled, "put this on and Y/N is coming."

The old woman did not give Shelby time to complain, leaving him in the company of a pink apron, totally striking.

Polly, what the fuck have you gotten me into?

John walked nervously through the dining room, cooking classes? I'd had enough of Polly's teachings on how to make soup, there was no way I could bake a cake. Less than less, two.

"Are you ready, Mr.?"

The voice... the voice is different.

John turned around, seeing how a girl appeared in front of him.

"And you are?" he asked, holding out his hand.

"I am Y/N."

John was mixing a thick brown mixture, while Y/N a white. The image of the man in a suit, with a chocolate stain on his shirt, made Y/N smile every time she saw him. He had steadfastly refused to wear something as ridiculous and flashy as that pink apron, but he had been persuaded to cook the cake.

"So everyone who wants a cake... comes and has to do it too?" John asked, finishing beating.

"Yes."

"So, my sister Ada...?"

“I end up with her egg-filled apron, but yeah. The cake was made by her with my help. "

John stopped beating, glancing sideways at the baker's smile. He knew that smile, but still not the woman who wore it.

While the cake was baking, they both talked about life, war, music. Sorting things out amid animated chatter, John tried to caress her arms with his. The moles on her arms reminded him of stars.

"You remind me of war." He said, without thinking once.

The look of the young woman was a complete poem.

"You're not good with compliments, are you John?" the girl asked, trying to add laughter to the situation, uncomfortable.

"Hell, I didn't mean that, I..." a chill ran through his body, what the fuck did he just say?

"Do not worry." She smiled, finishing cleaning.

“When I was on the Somme,” John began, “when I was on the Somme I couldn't think of anything other than the smell of blood. I couldn't hear anything other than screams, in a thousand and one languages, be it prayers or calls for help. The sun burned my forehead ... I remember feeling the infinite beads of sweat that dried on my neck. But at night, when death rested and war ceased, he looked at the stars. The sweat of the day made me feel like I was dying of cold in the cruel and dark French trenches. I prayed i would come home safe and sound, or at least alive. And the smell and the screams continued, until i found Cassiopeia in the sky. Then the smell would stop, the screaming too. My body was flooded with the aroma of bread that my mother made, and a lullaby sounded in my head that I heard my aunt sing. "

Y/N's eyes were attentive to every word, unconsciously shedding tears. The boy approached her arm, and slowly traced the W that was seen on her skin. His index finger joined each mole, and he touched the stars of the Samarin sky. He felt that peace, he felt that song and he felt different.

After that, they kissed. It was a bearable kiss, momentary and fleeting but brilliant, like a star. It gave them both that feeling you get on New Year’s: that feeling that, although it is still the same, you have a new opportunity. A fresh start.

“This is how looking up the stars felt.” Said John, while his nose was touching hers.

“How?” Y/n asked.

Both of their eyes were still closed. Their breathing was slow and peaceful.

John couldn’t answer; he felt everything crumble inside of him. Slowly, the disgusting smell of blood was flooding his head again.

“Is the cake ready?” he asked pulling away from her, making the girl sadden.

“Uh…yes, we just have to write their names with icing and it’ll be ready to be eaten.”

Her eyes were trying to connect with his, but he was observing the kitchen anxiously, avoiding her eyes. They both knew that John was evading her, but he didn’t know how she felt.

He left her in the kitchen to finish her work, as he washed the batter off of his hands in the little bathroom. It didn’t matter how many times he used soap, he still saw the red dots of blood on his hands. He felt the dirt under his nails, and the sweat drops on his back were always burning and itching, no matter how many showers he took.

When he left the bathroom, five minutes later, he saw the girl getting ready to write his daughters’ names on both cakes.

With a professional smile on her face, she asked for the names.

“Emma and Charlotte.” he smiled, tiredly.

As he put his coat on again, he watched the girl write both names in pink icing. She had a little bit of her tongue out, and was frowning. John couldn’t help but smile, not realizing how peaceful he was feeling.

One minute after he put on his cap on his the pocket of his coat, the baker gave him two white boxes.

“I really hope you learned something today.” She said with a smile, he smiled back.

“This” he said, giving her money “I believe is yours…”

He was giving her eight quids. Her eyes opened with astonishment.

“It’s two pounds each cake, John. Four in total.”

“Take ‘em, really.” He said, still insisting.

“John, I will accept five, and that’s it.” She said back, trying to act tough. Jesus, eight pounds sounded bloody amazing.

“I compared you to war, c’mon. Take them all.” He insisted agin.

“Six, and if you insist again I will give you both cakes as gifts.” She smiles, feeling the victory in her plan.

John smiled, he couldn’t believe how hard headed she was. He looked away, and let out a little laugh before looking at her, directly in the yes.

“Six it is.”

And when she saw the smile on John’s face, she felt like it was all good again, just like before and during the kiss. Boy was she wrong.

“You know…” the man started “I shouldn’t have kissed you, I’m so sorry…m’ wife, well…”

Y/N’s stiffened, her blood became ice. Every cell in her body fell numb.

“Oh…” she said.

John didn’t say a word. Neither did her.

She helped him load the cakes in his car, but the again. None of them said good bye. He took off, having given the girl two quids more.

He paid for the kiss, she though, not because he was sorry of what he said.

That night, she felt as dirty as John felt. The kiss was burning her lips, her consciousness, every inch of her body. She scrubbed her body even harder in the tub, tears were building up in her eyes.

But John,  on the other hand, felt peace every time he remembered the kiss. He was in bed, trying to sleep, trying to forget the war on his head. He thought of the kiss, of that bloody kiss that made him tremble and feel nervous again. He tried to understand what it felt, he tried every adjective. He found one, two hours after thinking non-stop about the girl he met that day:

Hope.

The kiss tasted like hope.

taglist: open

@a-golden-sunflower-vol-6

@fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby

@stydia-4-ever

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #384

“watch your tongue or have it cut from your head”

Do you post to say happy birthday on other people’s walls? Sometimes. Depends on my mood and the person. When was the last time you saw a rainbow? Idr. What’s your favorite television commercial? I don't watch TV enough at all to have one. And who has a favorite commercial, anyway? Do you trip a lot? I don't really trip a lot, but kinda fumble over my footing and stray a bit. I'm horrible at walking straight, and it's gotten worse as my legs have. How old is your television? The one in the living room is god knows how old. My parents were still together when they bought it. When did you last talk on the phone with someone? A couple days ago for my appointment with my psychiatrist. Are you currently sleepy? I'm quite convinced I'm permanently tired. Are you hot or cold natured? I am ALWAYS fucking hot, ugh. Do you take any advanced classes? I took mostly Honors classes in school. Do you have weak upper body strength? My body is just weak as a whole. What is the worst insult someone can call you? Emotionally weak. Are you good at sketching? If we're talking meerkats, haha. They're the only complex thing that I can freehand no problem without needing a reference, honestly. Ever play Angry Birds? Nah. I thought the movie was cute, though. Have you ever been to the zoo before? Yeah. Has anyone ever been weirdly obsessed with you? No. Are you afraid someone might steal your identity someday? It's not something I actively worry about at all. Like, you don't want my identity, I promise. Do you have any talents that come naturally? Growing up, adults always told me I was a "gifted" artist and writer. Also that I seem to have an unnaturally strong connection with animals. I've always been that person where a pet's owner is like "omg ____ never lets people do that" and whatnot. Have you ever had plastic surgery before? I haven't. It's funny though, how opposed to it I used to be... Like goddamn, I was such a fucking stupid and honestly judgmental teenager, regarding many things. I look back on her and cringe. Like damn dude, if you have a safe surgical procedure to help you enjoy the body you're stuck with the rest of your life, you go for it, boo. Are you afraid of airplane rides? Not really. What’s the best Valentine’s Day gift you’ve gotten? There was this one year where Jason had to go to work on Valentine's Day and I was super bummed, yet he still surprised me with a heart-shaped box of chocolates, roses, and a game I really wanted, Heavy Rain. I thought it was the sweetest. What is something you lose often? My phone. ;-; Do you enter a lot of sweepstakes? I don't enter any. Do you consider yourself physically active? *chuckles nervously* Do you have Netflix? Yeah. Favorite salad dressing? That Olive Garden replica you can buy at the store. Do you enjoy dancing? Once upon a time I did. My body could never handle it now. Have you ever considered writing a novel? Many times. Snow or sand? Snow, by twenty thousand miles. It is VERY hard for me to walk through sand, and I also hate hate hate hate HATE the sensation. Do you like sour candy? Heeeeeell yeah man. Have you gotten any injuries lately? If so, what & how? Nothing notable. Are you a clumsy person? Like you would not fucking believe. Last male you talked to in person? I think my primary physician's nurse. Are you thinking about asking anyone out? No. Pink lemonade or regular lemonade? Pink lemonade, for sure. But I love both. Chocolate or strawberry milk? CHOCOLATE. Strawberry milk is disgusting. Have you ever won a contest on the radio?No. Is there a song that reminds you of your best friend? There's quite a few. Has a book ever made you cry? Yes. Do you automatically check your phone when you wake up? Yes, for the time. Do you know anyone who has a pet bunny? Not that I'm aware. What store or website would you most like a gift card for? Rebel's Market. How do you feel about wolves? I adore wolves. Beautiful, majestic creatures with very interesting social dynamics. Name your top 3 favorite musical instruments. Electric guitar, violin, piano. What was the last book(s) you bought at a bookstore? At an actual bookstore, I think it was The Fault In Our Stars, which I never actually read. Do you use Pinterest? Yes. Do you know any sign language? No. Do you have a favorite poem? No. Do you have a dog? No. The one we were pretty much stuck with has a home now. Have you ever read The Little House on the Prairie series? I haven't. Have you ever gone on a service trip to an underprivileged country? No. Have you ever performed in front of more than 100 people? Yes, for dance. When (if ever) was the last time you went to church? Forever ago, I don't even remember the last time. What's a quote you think is really powerful? There's a whole lot. The first one that came to mind was, "An eye for an eye will leave the world blind," which I do believe has great depth in it. Have you ever had to do your laundry at a laundromat? Yes. Are you the oldest person who lives in your household? No. My mom is turning 60 (... I think?) this year. If you have tattoos, how long have you had them? I got my first the day I turned 18. Do you and your dad have similar personalities? We're alike in some ways, imo most notably in that we have NO fucking common sense, embarrassing as that is to admit. We're both kinda slow at understanding things, too. What were the last three things you had to drink? Mountain Lightning, milk, and water. What did your family usually do for Easter when you were a kid? Us three kids all got Easter baskets full of stuff, and we'd go egg-hunting when we were all awake. My little sister Nicole would always wake our parents up in excitement, haha. My parents hid plenty throughout the house, and there was always this one "special" egg that was actually from Mom's childhood and was extremely intricate and beautiful. You basically "won" the hunt if you found it, and it was extremely well-hidden. When you have house guests over, where do they sleep? Historically since living here, my two half-sisters and their spouses (the only people who've stayed over) slept in what is *technically* Mom's room, but for whatever reason this woman still insists on sleeping on the couch in the living room, I guess because she's used to it after all the years she didn't have her own room and bed. Are you emotionally stable? LOLOOLOLOOLLOLOOLOOLOLLOOLOLLLLLLLLLLL Do you still talk to the very first person you had sex with? No. Are you an atheist? No. I don't quite know how to define what I am, but since I believe there's SOME higher power, I don't think it's fitting to call me an atheist. What’s the largest bug you’ve ever found in your house? Hm... I'm unsure. Probably a male mosquito, 'cuz them bitches are big'ins. Would it annoy you if a stranger called you "sweetie?" If it was a man, I'd be creeped out. Are you into fashion design? Not really. What’s the worst thing you’ve gone through in the past year? My leg muscles continuing to degrade, honestly. I have to do something about this shit. How did you get your last bruise? I fell when stepping over the stupid dog gate. Have your parents ever forgotten your birthday? Yikes, no. Would you rather have some bacon or beef jerky? Bacon. Do you like your orange juice with lots or no pulp? NONE. Do you wear skinny jeans? Back when I wore jeans, they were the only kind I wore. What projects are you doing now for school? I'm outta school. What’s the most number of comments you have on a Facebook picture? What is the picture of? I have no idea. Do you like coconut flavored things? No. Have you ever met a famous author before? No. Do you know anybody who has been raped before? No, thank god. I know someone who might've almost been, though. I don't know what the fucking pig was going to do to her if my sister and I weren't there. Have you ever wished for bigger boobs? No. Being overweight, I just want smaller ones now, haha. Have you ever gone a full day without interacting with another person? I've gone many days without it. How many relationships have you been in that lasted less than a year? Four, if you're counting everyone that had the "boyfriend" title. Where were you going the last time you were on a plane? Home from Illinois. Where were you going the last time you were on a train? I've never been on one. Have you ever been significantly more physically fit than you are now? Holy fuck, yes. You would never guess now that I was perfectly healthy in high school especially, yet I still thought I was kinda fat. It hurts so much to look back on. When growing up, did you parents keep the house very tidy? I mean not excessively, but Mom was pretty dedicated to keeping the house in decent condition. With three kids though, of course the house was somewhat messy with toys and all. When you shop at IKEA, do you always stop to eat a snack/meal in the cafeteria? ... There's a fucking cafeteria in a furniture store? o_o I've never been there before. How many watches do you own? None, save for one in my "treasure box" from when I was a kid. I was SO SO SO obsessed with Finding Nemo that I kept my broken one. I did the same with my horribly aged sneakers, like the soles were coming off and Mom finally made me stop wearing them, ha. Are there any ways in which you greatly differ from everyone else in your family? I do fucking nothing and am useless to society. Should teenagers be allowed to have their cell phones with them in class? Yes, because emergencies happen. I personally think it's best to maybe have your cell phone flipped over on the corner of your desk or something and on vibrate, that way the noise isn't too disruptive and the teacher can see you're not just using it for other purposes. Do you have any gay relatives? Yes. Have you ever had to have a pet put down? Sigh, multiple. Have you unfollowed, deleted, or blocked anyone on social media recently? If so, what was the reason? Not recently. How many cups of coffee do you typically drink per day? None. Do you know what your vocal range is? No, but it's not very broad. What’s the biggest financial mistake you’ve ever made? I haven't been in this position before. Have you ever been in a relationship where there was a large difference in maturity levels? No. What’s the longest you’ve ever stayed as a guest at someone’s house? I wanna say over a month while we were technically homeless. How bad was your acne when you were a teenager? Oh dear, it was rough. Like there were people who had it worse than me, but ya girl was lookin preeeetty rough lmao.

[desiraypark]

Love in Writing [Prologue]

Series Summary: Friends since childhood and sweethearts since adolescence, Finn and Darla are now of age to court and eventually marry. But when Finn is away in the army, his “brother” and frenemy, Ben, snatches their chance at matrimony away.  Main Characters: Darling “Darla” Teven (Daughter of Dekari and Amala Teven) (Blk/F) Finn Okani (Son of the late Jace and Callila Okani) Ben Skywalker Solo (His Grace, the Young Prince) Setting: - Country of Alderaan - Not space - In a world comparable to the Western hemisphere of the Earth (but not Earth lol) - Starts in a time comparable to the early 1910s Disclaimer: Though set in a “historical” period, this series won’t be completely historically accurate. The series is more so “inspired” by the Western culture of the early 20th century, but much of the content is the result of my re-imagining and re-envisioning the era(s).  Categories: Angst - Drama - Fluff - Historical - Romance - Scandal - Smut  Content Warnings: Arranged Marriage - Backstabbing - Conniving - Deceit - Degradation - Infidelity

Though the original character will be forced into a marriage, I intend to avoid putting any non-con into this series.

(Prologue after break) 

The Debut Ceremony

My Dearest Finn,

My Love, I wish the contents of this letter were pleasant. The most horrific thing has happened. Ben has asked my parents’ permission to court me and they said “yes”! I am mortified. I miss you my Love and wish you were here to fight this with me. My parents said that they think you are a splendid young man and they adore you. But of course, a union within the royal family would be more beneficial to the Teven family. I can’t understand why Ben would do this. Surely, he knows that we’ve been in love since we were in secondary school. I know that you’ve shared your affections for me with him. Yes, I remember you telling me that he may harbor some resentment toward you, but I did not believe it was this strong. Princess Leia asked me if I was sure I wanted to court Ben. I’m sure that she, too, is aware of our affection for each other. But my parents burned into me with a mighty glare, striking the fear of the Maker into me. I said “yes”. But as you know, Princess Leia isn’t the final decision-maker. King Luke also sees benefit in a Skywalker-Solo-Teven union. My sweet Finn. I am sorry that I have to share this news with you in a letter. Please say a prayer for me, as I will continue to pray for you. But now, I fear that I pray for an end to this undesirable union in a not-so-pleasant way. I love you, Finn. And only you. Always.

Sincerely, Your Darling ____________________ THREE EVENINGS BEFORE

“Ladies and gentlemen, the highlight of our evening begins…”

“Ready to make ourselves available for sanctified deflowering, ladies?” Rey asked. Jenaveve pinched her daughter’s bare shoulder.

“Twelve gorgeous young ladies are ready to make their debut as women among King Luke Skywalker, his Royal Family, esteemed guests, and twelve Alderaan’s finest young men. Here they are…”

A violin played.

“First out, Estela Becall, daughter of Trevin Becall, escorted by her mother, Lumina Becall…”

The announcer--Prime Minister Tico, called the names of the remaining eleven young ladies, including his granddaughter, Rose. She was Rose Tico, daughter of Issak, escorted by her mother, Belle. Isaak Tico was a Navy general who wanted little to do with politics and the frills of the aristocracy. He was intent on letting his daughters, Rose and Paige, live relatively normal lives--but he wasn’t always able to escape the golden claws of his esteemed father. Rose took it all in stride. She was a perfect combination of her male descendants: fiercely independent like her father and boldly persuasive like her grandfather. And she was a humanitarian like her mother--dedicated to remaining on the right side of history. Now, here she was following Alderaan aristocrat tradition--her hair pinned up and body adorned in minimal jewels and a gown of Skywalker blue. 

Jannah Itanni--fourth in the debut line. She was the granddaughter of York Itanni I - the world-famous inventor and engineer, and daughter of his son, York Itanni, II. Jannah was very much like her father--an explorer at heart. Curious. Always ready for a new adventure. She didn’t hate the debut ceremony--in fact, she hoped to catch the eye of a young pilot who could teach her to fly--but she hated the rules and the consequences of unfollowed rules. So many unnecessary things, if you asked her. Rose and Jannah went to school with Rey Jakkan and Darling Teven. Rey was the youngest daughter of Markus Jakkan and Jenaveev Olvair-Jakkan (daughter of oil tycoon, Cyrus Olvair). She and Jannah were best friends. Whenever one was in trouble, the other one usually was, too. They often snuck out of their homes to meet each other. How they were able to do it so often without being caught, no one ever knew. Like Jannah, she hated all the rules and protocol of the debut ceremony--but unlike Jannah, who kept her complaints to low mumbles, Rey fought and protested the entire way. Ninth in the line (and alphabetically in front of Rose) was Darling Teven. Yes, Darling is her real name. But everyone (except her mother) called her “Darla”. Darla was the daughter of Dekari and Amala Teven--and granddaughter of Jahani Teven. Her grandfather was the founder and CEO of Eastland Preserves, one of the biggest dried foods manufacturers in Alderaan. Eastland Preserves also had storefronts in five of Alderaan’s major cities. 

Darla was just as mischievous as Rey and Jannah, but she did an excellent job of hiding her capers and quieting her quips. Always relaxed and easygoing, she knew when to play with the fire and knew when to step away. Naturally, Rose Tico was her best friend.

Twelve single young men stood in line to greet the young women with bows, kisses to hand, and hellos. If they didn’t know their names, they asked - but there were probably only two young ladies who were strangers to the Skywalker castle. For many of these young men and women had roamed the marble halls and plush grounds as children--passing the hours with boundless fun as their parents talked business, politics, or simple social affairs with King Anakin and Queen Padme, and for five years now, King Luke. Additionally, many of them attended the same prestigious academy. The young men traditionally lined up by titles and importance - royals first, the children of politicians second, and esteemed citizens (like businessmen’s sons) after. One by one, they chose their first dance. First in line was Prince Ben Skywalker-Solo - son of Princess Leia and Prince Han Solo, nephew of King Luke. This was his third time attending the annual debut ceremony. For it was no secret that the carefree young man wasn’t interested in a wife, but his parents forced him to participate. To at least look like he was trying to be an honorable man.

“Darling,” Ben said when he reached the Teven family’s only daughter. He bowed and kissed her hand, and she raised an eyebrow at him. The chandelier seemed to illuminate her and only her. She was always lovely, but the night’s air and the room’s airs made her radiant. “Benjamin,” she responded. He noticed Rose biting down a chuckle. “Ben is my full name, Darla.” “I know.” He smirked and walked to Rose. When greetings were done, Ben chose Rey to dance with first. He knew that she hated the entire affair and only wanted to antagonize her for it. Then, there was Darla--his final dance partner. Unofficial sweetheart to his unofficial brother.

“Darling Teven,” Ben said, as he took her hand. The second dreadfully long song of the evening began, and the two bowed and curtsied, and pranced into their waltz. “Why do you keep calling me that?” Darla asked. “Is your name not Darling?” “You have never called me Darling, Ben.” “Ben?” he asked, looking into her eyes. “Your Grace, you mean.” “You would love for me to call you that, wouldn’t you?” “I would. Just like I enjoy calling you Darling.” “All of a sudden...” Darla mumbled. Ben grunted and looked over Darling’s head. It required little effort--for he towered over everyone on the dance floor. “How is Finn? Do you still write him?” he asked. He met her eyes again. Darla was slightly annoyed by the question. She didn’t quite know why. There seemed to be a tinge of intrusiveness to it. He knew good and well that nothing could stop them from writing each other. “Of course I do. He is well. Ready for his advanced training soon,” she answered with a proud smile. “You don’t write him?” Ben shrugged. “He writes to his uncle. His uncle passes the messages on.” Darla nodded and they danced in brief silence. “So, how does it feel to be a woman?” he asked. She shrugged. “I feel no different.” “Oh. So I must give Finn some lessons.” Darla’s eyebrows scrunched together. “What are you talking about?” “Oh, you know. Sweet little harlot,” he said. Darla blinked in shock. “What did you call me?!” she growled. “Shh. Not in front of the guests, Darling,” he said with a grin. “Your secret is safe with me.” Darla huffed and suddenly began to sweat.

“Finn didn’t tell me, by the way,” Ben continued. “I knew when he left for the base. The way you two looked at each other at the station. The way he walked like he’d drank ten coca drinks. Where did you two go? His uncle’s barn?” "That’s none of your fucking business,” she said between clenched teeth.  Ben shook his head. “Language, little one. Language...” “Oh, shove it up your ass, Ben,” she whispered. He just laughed. “But you’re right. It’s none of my business,” he said. “It’s just such a shame that the Darling of Alderaan didn’t get her beautiful cherry popped by a man with more experience.” “You’re disgusting,” Darla hissed. “And I wouldn’t want my cherry popped by a worn out and used utensil, anyway.” Ben threw his head back to laugh this time. He looked back down at her. “Used? Yes. Worn out? Not even close. Darling.” Darla rolled her eyes. “When will this song end?” Ben glanced over the dance floor and ignored the pained and impatient expressions on his peers’ faces. “We can change partners at this point.” “Thank the Maker.” “I have to initiate the switch. Me being the more important bachelor and all,” he said. “Well. Initiate!” Ben bit down on his bottom lip. Dimples pressed into his cheeks. He kept waltzing with Darla. “You’re a torturer,” she said. “And Finn would kill you if he saw what you were doing right now.” Ben didn’t say anything. He just stared into Darla’s eyes. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.  “Finn isn’t the only person who thinks you’re beautiful, Darla.” Chills went down Darla’s spine. She swallowed. His confession was sweet but dripped with a sinister elixir. Surely, these feelings of his were new. If they were even genuine. “That’s kind of you, Ben. But Finn is the only man whose affections I desire.” Ben smiled. Then, his eyebrows knitted together. He nodded.

“We’ll see.” ____________________ Let me know in the comments if you want to be tagged in “Love in Writing”!

[ohmyhera]

the day Hades called

A/n Things are getting angsty in the teacher au. this does have mentions of alcohol and anxiety attacks so please read with caution. 

“Father...Father no, listen to me!” Will flinched and dropped the remote he was holding. He’d never heard Nico shout like that...or raise his voice really, and they were going on two years. But it was a shout alright, one that slammed against the door of the shut bedroom ready to be released into the tiny apartment. 

There was silence on Nico’s end and then he was screaming. It was rapid fired italian that Will’s duolingo app could have never prepared him for, but he knew a few of the curses and they weren’t used sparingly. It made Will a little nervous, he knew Nico had anger issues, he figured that out a long time ago. But he never let himself get to this level, he was properly pissed. 

“Well i’m sorry I am not perfect!” with that there was a sharp thud, then silence. Too much silence for someone who just won a screaming match. Will got up from the couch and slowly crept into the bedroom. He knows he shouldn’t,he knows Nico doesn’t like to be seen like this, at his worst he calls it. But it was always a slippery slope when it came to Nico and his family, he didn’t talk about them too much and he sure as well never mentioned his dad. Will got to the door and knocked a few times even though he just wanted to ram the thing down. But, it was Nico’s apartment after all, he needed to show his respect.

So he waited.

Then he knocked again.

And he waited some more.

He waited a good ten minutes before the fear started to creep up his chest. It was quiet, too quiet, he couldn’t even hear Nico moving. With the blood pounding in his ears he quickly opened the door and ran inside. He couldn’t breathe, fuck he couldn’t breathe, but where was Nico? The room looked empty, the bed was still perfectly made and all he could see was Nico’s phone shattered against the wall.

“O-oh my god”he mumbled as he paced around the room. Tears burned at his eyes and in the back of his ears, but he had an objective.

“Nico!”He called out, his voice broke. 

He heard nothing.

“Nico!”he tried again, a few tears fell. “Nico baby i’m here...please just talk to me. I’m here..”

He knows he needs to stay calm, that he’s just making things worse, but he can’t help it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t. His mind filled with horrid images of unspeakable things and his knees felt like they were going to buckle. He slowly sunk to the ground and let himself feel the carpet underneath him, if he was going to be any help, he needed to ground himself. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Nico was going to be okay, Nico was going to be okay…He was a big boy, he didn’t need to be coddled. He repeated that until he believed it.

“Okay”He exhaled, standing back on shaky legs. If Nico wasn’t in the bedroom, where else could he be? The apartment was small, he couldn’t have gone—Will wanted to slap himself.

The closet.

Of course that’s where he was.

There was a sliding closet outside of the bedroom. It was pretty small, but it was definitely Nico sized. He quickly left the bedroom and threw open the closet door. 

There he was, knees tucked up to his chest. But the bottle in his hand brought all the anxiety back in a sudden wave.

“Baby…”He said slowly, “please come out, please”

Nico stared up at him with glassy eyes of his own, then he immediately looked away. He looked ashamed, Will could understand why. The blonde backed up a bit and they both waited it out. It took a total of twenty minutes to coax the man out. The second his foot hit the hardwood floor, Will was wrapping him up in his arms. The bottle hit and spilled all over the floor but neither of them cared.

“I-I’m sorry”Nico croaked, “I’m so sorry”

He broke, going slack in Will’s arms. Will bit his lip to keep his own tears at bay and just squeezed the man tighter.

“It’s okay”Will whispered, “it’s okay baby, I know you didn’t mean to”

“I feel disgusting!”He sobbed and buried his face in the blonde’s chest, “I can still taste it!”

“You’re not disgusting Nico”Will said, rubbing his back. “But you gotta tell me what happened”

“It was nothing-”

“Bullshit”Will said sharply, “Nico if you don’t want to say it you don’t have to but please don’t undermine your pain”

He looked shocked, Will continued.

“I ain’t gonna judge you, but I'm not babying you either,”Will said. He tilted Nico’s chin up so that they were eye level. “This wasn’t no petty spat. You’ve been sober for three years and you were just chugging my rosé, something happened.”

“That wasn’t even rosé”He mumbled and wiped his eyes, “It was prosecco…”

“Nico”Will said, his eyes were serious.

“Fine”he whispered. He took a few more moments to compose himself and then began to speak.

“Word got out to my father on what i’m really doing here...he called me to say that I’ve disgraced the di angelo name, that my-”

He gazed up at the ceiling and blinked rapidly, “-that my mother would be disgusted with me...doing a commoners job”

“What did he think you studied?”Will asked softly.

“Business!”He laughed, but nothing was funny. “He thought I was studying business. He was furious that he funded an artists education...but is that not what they raised me to be? I studied art,I played piano,I played violin,I sang in choirs...but I guess i’ll be nothing but a failure in his eyes”

“You’re incredible…”Will whispered, every ounce of love he felt was poured into those two words. He knew he should say more, that he should comfort him, but sometimes even in the most serious of situations words fail you. But if he couldn’t speak, he’d be damned if he didn’t listen.

“I didn’t want to lie”He said, “But i had to or this would...this would not be”

“Sometimes we have to make hard choices,”Will said.

“But the problem is it was not hard!”He said, “knowing that this is what i have now, I would lie to him again and again. I love you and I love my students so fiercely...I just wish he could understand. I just wish things didn’t have to be so confusing”

“Then if your heart is in New York, you definitely made the right choice”Will said.

“My heart is not only in New York”He said. He brought a hand up to cup Will’s cheek and brushed away a stray, “It’s with you, and everyone else who cares about me. I’m sorry you heard me lose my temper, I know how you feel about shouting and-”

“It’s alright Neeks, honest”Will said, “I was more worried about you being okay. I know you’re working on it and I know you’ve come so far. It’s still apart of you and baby I love you, I love you more than cornbread”

“Alright you southern fuck”he said, squirming away. “You’ve ruined the moment”

“What!”Will laughed, “I meant it, I really love cornbread!”

“Whatever”he said rolling his eyes, “But yeah, I’ll talk to my therapist about the um...the drinking thing”

“Good”Will said and kissed his forehead, “I’m not mad at you either, recovery isn’t always linear. You’ve still made progress”

“You’re so sappy,”He said.

“Mmm but you love me for it”Will said, swaying the two side to side.

“You’re right, ti amo il mio angioletto”

“Mmm I still don’t speak italian but ti amo too, baby”Will said with a dreamy look in his eyes. “How about we go watch some shows in the pillow fort? Get your mind off of things”

“After we order me a new phone”He winced, “I think I broke the other one”

“Oh you most definitely did”Will said with wide eyes, “You’ve got a strong arm baby, could play baseball”

“Ew sports”He said, then his eyes took on a serious glint. “You don’t...do you ever think that i’ll hit you Will? Please be honest with me, I know that I can be a little...frightening, are you ever afraid of me?”

“No baby”Will said immediately, “now who put that thought in your head?”

“I dunno”He said shaking his head, “I know I can get kind of loud and-”

“Baby”Will chuckled, putting both hands on his shoulders, “This is the first time you’ve had a tantrum in the near two years we’ve been dating. You’ve never even raised your voice at me, argument or not. You’re doing everything your therapist told you to, you leave the room,you go on walks,you use your squeeze toys. What happened today won’t change my opinion on you”

“Really?”He said.”You don’t think...i’m a monster?”

“The only monster here is the one filling your head with all that nonsense”Will said, “you’re sweet and loving and loyal and kind, it doesn’t matter that you have a temper, I still love you”

“I love you too”He said, “so much, I love you so much. Bianca would have loved you Will, so would my mother.”

“That means the world darling”Will breathed, “it really does. I would’ve loved them too from the way you talk about them”

“Come to italy with me!”He blurted out, “When all this mess is over I mean, come with me...meet them?”

There was a gentle plea at the end of his sentence. Will placed a few kisses on the top of his head and pulled him even closer.

“Nothing would make me happier”

A/n Hey guys! I hope you guys liked this, this was written impulsively while I was answering questions on these two’s ask account. if you liked this leave a comment if you want cause i’m kind of proud of it. these two idiots are growing up fast, mayhaps I smell marriage in their future

[arrogvnces]

     he can never sleep on airplanes. not without the help of his mother’s sleeping pills, at least. for a two-hour flight, he thought it might be too much to bring them, but now he regrets it. on his left, his younger brother snores up a storm, his first-class seat transformed into a comfortable bed, which he covers with all his long, growing limbs. on his right, his sister mutters curse words to herself while angrily pressing the buttons on her nintendo switch. it’s only him, stuck in the middle, plagued by his own thoughts as the plane takes off into the sky, the sun having yet to rise. 

     they were forced into the earliest flight out of zurich, at his father’s orders. there’d been barely any time for greetings, after months of not seeing one another, before their chaperone promptly escorted them into the park family’s private jet, his sour face and trembling hands waiting for the worst. of course, there is nothing more humiliating than his parents still believing sinclair needs to be babysat, but a more rational part of him knows they are right. god knows how many times he ended up buying a completely different ticket, flying off to asia when he was supposed to head to south america. he just wishes he didn’t have to see them. 

     “fuckdammnitsonofabitch,” ren jumps up, discarding her console on the ground, bridging the space between their seats to join him on the larger couch, his flat-screen tv showing trailers of movies he won’t watch.

     “what were you playing?” he asks, because he feels like she wants him to. her lips curl. 

     “animal crossing.” 

     he scoffs in amusement, earning himself a kick far stronger than he remembers her being able to give. which is another thing bothering him, beyond being called upon by his father like a dog, dropping every thing in his life to play at being the perfect nuclear family. when he first saw them at the airport, he barely recognized his siblings. they’ve grown taller, older. tristan’s five o’clock shadow might actually be a reality, rather than his desperate attempts to seem older than seventeen. as for his little sister, she looks more and more like the girls he goes to st. agathe’s with, her baby cheeks disappearing under the thick make-up. he’s missing it all, because they’d rather grow apart, than grow with leonard. 

     “i hate dining with royals,” she blurts out, head falling against the couch. “they’re so boring, god. if you pick up the wrong fork, you’re fucked up. if you speak out of turn, you’re fucked. i even had to dye my hair back because apparently being asian and blonde is an offense to the fucking prince of monaco.”

     “you’re swearing a lot,” sinclair notes, frowning at the words that fly so easily out of her mouth. hypocrite, he thinks. 

     “i’m trying to get it out before we land. you know mom’s going to parade us around the whole day, like we’re the royal family blessing them with our presence.” unfortunately, he knows that all too well. leonard park and his family are royalty in their own way. he’s the richest man in the world. his wife is a genius, and his three children are examples for all well-behaved, elite children around the world. or at least, that’s what the press is paid to report on. god forbids anyone hears words of his father’s cruelty, or his wife’s depression, or the fact that his children see rules and regulations as mere suggestions to ignore, or worst, mock. sometimes, sinclair is certain leonard would rather have one of them die, instead of bringing him shame. 

     “she also told me to tell you not to sleep with princess alexandra, this time,” ren calmly says, as sinclair’s eyes widen at the horribly disgusting thought of his mother discussing his sex life with his younger sister. 

     “what---”

      “she said you’d only listen if it came from this face.” at that, her hands form a ‘v’ around her cheeks, innocently looking up at him, as she often did when they were children and he’d be in charge of making sure she didn’t commit any damage to their guests’ house. he closes his eyes, turning away from her. 

     “i’m done talking to you.” 

     “wait,” she chuckles, tapping at his shoulder. he turns half-way, one eyebrow raised. “did she like it? did henrietta like the scarf?” he’d almost forgotten about it. not the scarf, that would be impossible. he’s spent far too many nights with that exact scarf haunting his fantasies, and all the things he’d promised to henri next time. rather, he’d forgotten his little sister was a tool in something he hopes she never gets involved in. she deserves a lot better than the theodores and sinclairs of the world. 

     “she did,” he replies, simply. he can tell she’s waiting for more, her eyes focused on him like a hawk, trying to pry him open. that’s always been her talent. to unnerve until explosion. “she wore it recently. it looked really pretty. thank you.” 

     she smiles, and he recognizes her a little bit more. it’s the chipped front tooth, that her parents have tried to get her to fix since she was ten. but like her older brothers, ren has never shied away from scars. “you’re welcome.” 

     at that, she turns away from him, focusing her eyes on the tv as an episode of riverdale begins to play. he groans, reaching for earpods, tuning out the world for the rest of the flight.

-----

     by the time the day ends at the prince’s palace of monaco, sinclair is all but emotionally spent. endless hours of parading around monte carlo, pretending his mother hadn’t hired a paparazzi to catch them on their ‘totally normal and entirely functional family outing’ which consisted of whispered scoldings and diamond-white grins, and of course, the unpleasant climax as his father’s sudden presence ruined his first experience inside a formula one car. as far as family reunions go, this has been the quietest. and yet, he was unable to relax for even a single second. 

     “sinclair, fix your tie,” his mother orders, as the five of them walk in unison towards the royal ballroom, hosting their annual charity gala. he can already predict how the night will go. the prince will shake leonard for money, and his father will take as many pictures of the two as possible. look at him, donating millions to save endangered animals. who cares that his company is under investigation for human rights’ violations? sinclair holds back a sigh, fixing the black tie around his neck. restrictive. much like a leash. 

     they stop before the closed doors, the sound of violins and animated chatter behind it waiting patiently for their fashionably late arrival. late enough to catch everyone’s eyes, but not too late to offend a monarch. his father turns his imposing figure towards his children, a smile on his lips, but death in his eyes. 

     “what are the rules?” he asks, a military instructor’s voice replacing his media-built carefree persona. sinclair nearly spouts off a series of insults that always reside on the tip of his tongue in his father’s presence, but one look from emily seo is enough to keep him in place. pick your battles. 

     the three children recite his list of rules, voices becoming one, lips moving in perfect synch. perfect little soldiers, keeping the facade alive, hiding all their ugly behind leonard park’s promise of pain and suffering. always smile. don’t fight. don’t try to be smart. try to speak only when spoken to. sit straight. no playing games. no running around. but mostly, don’t embarrass your family. 

     he eyes them from head-to-toe, their outfits chosen by a hollywood star’s stylist, fit for a red carpet. not a single hair out of place, only real diamonds on their wrists, none of sinclair’s tattoos and earrings, or tristan’s highlighter pink hair to disturb the elite’s sight. perfect. so perfect, sinclair might just throw up before the night’s over. seemingly satisfied, leonard takes his wife’s hand, pushing open the ballroom doors, a world of light and glamour opening up to them. 

    “if we’re still here in three hours, i want you to push me off the balcony,” tristan whispers, as a smile begins to grow on his mouth, the crowd moving as one to greet the new arrival. sinclair imitates him, his facial muscles already protesting.

     “not if i jump first,” he says, before diving head first. 

[xxrainbow-princessxx]

Tension - Leo x Isabella (NSFW 🍋🍋)

This is 18+ - please do not read if uncomfortable!!  Isabella and Leo meet after splitting a few months previously. Will either one of them make it difficult for the other?

Tagging: @drakewalkerfantasy​ @lorirwritesfanfic​ @lorircreates​ @desireepow-1986​ @debramcg1106​ @liam-rhys​ @rainbowsinthestorm​

“Sí, Your Excellency, we are so pleased to invite you to our humble Kingdom...” Isabella giggled, her cheeks were slightly flushed as her warm, welcoming smile glistened. There she was standing in a room of foreign dignitaries, nobility and Royalty; her thick, long, dark raven locks cascaded down her shoulders and back, framing her heart shaped face as she beamed. Isabella wore a black and white, fitted, short Chanel pencil dress which hugged ever inch of her petite, curvy figure. Her eyes shimmered under the crystal chandeliers, reflecting the small speckles of honey that decorated her dark chocolate brown eyes. The Crown Princess easily entertained her father’s guests with her quick wit and dry humour. With her fluttering, long dark eyelashes, the petite brunette was enchanting, knowing full well that with a well timed glance, she could have any man wrapped around her finger and underneath that 5ft 2” facade was a well versed, unnerved and ruthless negotiator; always one step ahead.

Laurentia was hosting a trade conference; the Princess was due to address the delegates and conduct meetings for her father to build the relationships of their allies and review their current terms. The Princess narrowed her almond eyes whilst she stared out towards the crowd; every single one of them were either a narcissist, playboy or had a inferiority complex and Isabella could very quickly work out their psyche; playing them like a violin at their own game. For every lie that she told them, they would tell her three in response; the more they underestimated her, the less she cared and the more pleasure the petite brunette had in making it more painful without the other party realising. Unfortunately for Leo and Liam; Constantine felt it an important lesson for the two Cordonian Prince’s to attend in his absence. “Your Royal Highness...” quipped a woman of similar age to Isabella holding an iPad documenting the Crown Princess’ schedule, “The East Wing drawing room is ready for you...” With a warm smile, the twenty year old Princess nodded, “Gracias Jimena...”

As Isabella walked across the cream marble floors, her Louboutin heels clicked, head buried in an iPad until she saw a familiar figure across the room. In an evening where she had forced laughter laughter and faked smiles; the Princess’ eyes darkened that little bit more as she caught the Cordonian Crown Prince standing casually with a champagne flute in his hand. “Leo...” Liam began to sigh, “Come on... we need to...” Leo quietly stood as he watched Isabella, exchanging her gaze before she returned to her IPad without a second glance in his direction. Shoving his hands into his navy suit trouser pockets, Leo swallowed hard. He hadn’t expected to feel the way he did. Their split was still raw after three months, the petite brunette had enough of Leo’s womanising ways after he was caught with an Italian Countess and the Princess finally had enough, no longer willing to put up with the drama. Isabella knew she deserved better. Biting down on his lip, Leo was deep in thought until he felt Drake’s hand patting his shoulder, “You ok big guy?” Leo shrugged his shoulders quietly, “Yeah...” he sighed before running his fingers through his sandy blonde hair, “I really shouldn’t be here...”

Leo and Drake made the bar their temporary home as Liam disappeared to discuss Cordonian affairs with the Crown Princess. During the flight, Leo and Liam both agreed due to particular circumstances, it would be best for Liam to do all the talking and for Leo to stay out of Isabella’s way; essentially Leo was there to be seen but not heard. Leo raised the crystal tumbler, staring at the dark caramel coloured liquid that swirled around with a simple flick of the wrist. The hypnotising pattern distracted him whilst Drake quietly savoured the smoky whiskey, enjoying the warm, burning liquor pass his lips. Tilting his head, Drake noticed at the corner of his eye Liam emerging into the atrium, elbowing Leo to get his attention, “Shit...” Drake quietly spoke under his breath, “Looks like things didn’t go too well...” Liam was seething, his jaw was clenched tightly as he stormed through the crowd towards his brother and Drake. It wasn’t in Liam’s nature to allow a negotiation to the better of him or let someone get under his skin but his face told a thousand stories.

“She’s a f...” Liam took a deep breath, before straightening his suit jacket as Leo’s eyes narrowed slightly, “What happened?” Scornfully, Liam swiped the whiskey that rested under Leo’s nose instantly downing the liquid, groaning as he shook his head before slamming the tumbler onto the table. Liam ran his hand down his face slowly, rubbing his face before his eyes met Leo’s, “We lost everything, she won’t renegotiate terms... Father will be furious...” Leo began to frown, pushing his brother for an answer, “What do you mean... everything?! Including the port licenses?” Liam began to sigh heavily, “...goods, excise, port licenses... we effectively cannot trade with Laurentia or sell Cordonian goods here...” Leo pursed his lips, twisting his mouth as he sat deep in thought trying to piece together what to do next. He knew that this wasn’t business, but it was personal. Pushing out his chair; Leo stood tall, pulling on the arms of his suit jacket. The Crown Prince’s sea green eyes flared with rage, “She’s not going to get away with this!”

Liam grabbed his brother’s arm, “Leo...” he spoke under his breath, “Don’t... just let it go... you’ll just make this worse...” Leo pulled his arm back angrily as he spat, “She’ll not make us a laughing stock!” With a furrowed brow, Leo marched towards Isabella’s meeting room barging through the door as the Princess sat with her feet propped up against the table and her filing her long, crimson red almond shaped nails, “What the fuck are you playing at?!” Leo barked, slamming the door behind him. Isabella didn’t budge; holding out her hand as she tilted her head slightly to the left to check her manicure. The Crown Princess clicked her tongue as she finally spoke, a faint smile grew across her full, supple lips hidden from Leo’s view, “It’s not like Cordonia brings anything to the table...” Leo’s face reddened in frustration, smacking his hands onto the desk that Isabella had her legs and feet upon, “Don’t make enemies here Isabella! I am not in the fucking mood!” Leo growled towards her, he was incensed. The Laurentian Princess finally turned her head slowly, her dark chocolate brown eyes barely narrowed, unphased by Leo’s outburst as she lowered her legs towards the floor and stood up.

As she walked towards the other side of the desk, Isabella folded her arms as she began to speak, her thick Laurentian accent echoed within the quiet room, “Señor Rys... you must understand...” she began to smirk slightly knowing she had the upper hand, “...The world does not revolve around you... and for you to think that I care...” she began to giggle, “...is simply laughable...” Isabella surveyed Leo’s demeanour carefully, pushing a little more for her own entertainment with her taunts, “Are you afraid of going home to Papa with empty pockets?” Isabella pouted before coyly smiling, “Oh well...” she quipped shrugging her shoulders, “... that’s not my problem...” Isabella was cold and calculated; Leo knew the Princess has a wicked temper, but not where she would risk a whole Kingdom because of a grudge. Rolling his eyes, Leo snapped, “Stop being so fucking petty...” he began to bark, “...I know I fucked up... I know that I hurt you but don’t take it out on Cordonia... don’t be a complete bitch and drag innocent people into this... you know the Kingdom relies on port licenses and export from Laurentia!”

The petite brunette sucked in her cheeks unimpressed as Leo continued to scold her, “Grow up Isabella!” The Princess felt her rage building, her glaring eyes burned with anger as she closed the distance between her and Leo, “How dare you speak to me like that!” She spat, “I’m not the one who needs to grow up Leo! You come here, expecting me to be nice to you? I have been cordial to you... I’ve put up with the tabloids, the other women, helping you where I could... and I...” she stopped herself for a moment, Isabella no longer was shouting but her lowered tone was still as cut throat, “....was the only one who ever stood by you... and you treated me like an object...” her nose scrunched up in disgust, “and to think... I thought I loved you once... You’re the one who needs to fucking grow up!” Isabella gritted her teeth as she raised her hand to Leo, only for him to grab her wrist tightly. Isabella’s face glowed a crimson red as she seethed, “I fucking hate you so much!” as she pulled back on her arm.

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife as Isabella glared up towards the Cordonian Crown Prince; her defiance rattling Leo and tipping his already short temper over the edge as she kept cursing him out, “...and you think your all ‘I’m just a regular guy’ bullshit...” the faster she spoke, the stronger her accent became, eventually resorting to her native tongue, “¡Usted me gustaba, pero ahora le detesto!” not giving Leo any opportunity for a come back. Stepping forward, Leo reached out; tangling his fingers through Isabella’s hair, kissing her passionately against her crimson red lips. The pretty brunette felt dizzy as her chest heaved, nearly stumbling in her five inch heels as Leo stepped back. She was speechless. Isabella’s dark doe like eyes blinked, her lashes fluttering in shock whilst Leo awkwardly tried to laugh it off, scratching the back of his head, “Sorry... it’s the only way I know how to keep you quiet...”

Isabella’s almond eyes slowly narrowed as she grabbed Leo’s tie pulling him back towards her causing him to stumble slightly. “Shut the fuck up...” she mumbled under her breath before eagerly kissing him again. The feeling of his lips against hers sent shockwaves down her spine; whilst Leo’s hands traced along her waist, bunching up the hem of her dress in tow. As Isabella placed her arms around his neck, Leo picked her up with ease. Isabella’s legs wrapped around the Crown Prince’s waist as Leo fumbled with documents that lay across the table, firing them everywhere as he placed the Princess roughly on top of the heavy oak table. Leo greedily began to kiss along the Crown Princess’ neck bringing a gentle moan to Isabella’s lips but that’s not what she wanted. Placing her well manicured hands into the top of Leo’s head, she cocked her brow with a mischievous smile, pushing him down onto his knees in front of her.

Leo shook his head, his sandy blonde hair falling back into place as he began to grin as Isabella placed her legs over his strong muscular shoulders. The Princess bit down on her plump crimson red lip as she felt Leo pull her thong to the side, his warm breath teasing her. “I still hate you...” she began to moan as the tip of Leo’s tongue began to taste her, flicking against her folds and aching mound as Isabella’s fingers traced through his sandy blonde hair. Feeling her rocking against him, Leo began to smirk pulling the petite brunette forward, his fingers teasing her sweet tasting entrance. He slowly pushed two fingers in; both of them finding their rhythm, moving in unison. Grabbing onto his hair, Isabella seductively moaned Leo’s name, “Leo... I’m going to...”

A knock against the door interrupted them both, Leo tried to pull back but Isabella tightened her legs, “I’m not finished!” She shouted, her chest heaving as Isabella could feel her climax building. Leo had never seen her so demanding, but he loved it. He’d never felt as turned on. “Sí...” she whimpered, “Stay... there...” Leo grinned as he felt her legs shaking against him, he moved his arms, holding her thighs tightly so she couldn’t move. With a groan, Isabella came, smiling. Slowly releasing her legs from around Leo, he leaned backwards taking a deep breath. “Kitten...” Leo cooed with a smirk as he stood, “You still taste amazing...” The Princess’ cheeks were flushed a rosy pink as she fixed the hem of her dress, before being interrupted by another knock. “Don’t answer...” Leo begged, “You’re killing me here!” adjusting himself for comfort.

“Princess you need to be ready in 10 minutes...”

“Sí!” Isabella shouted back towards the staff, before biting down on her lower lip, picking up her iPad before jumping down off of the table top, handing it to Leo smugly, “I told you it was never personal...” Leo’s sea green eyes looked through the file Isabella gave him. His brow began to furrow, “Where did you get this? This can’t be true!” Awkwardly, Isabella began to sigh, “GDP is dropping fast... Liam stormed out before I could say anything and then you accuse me of making a 15% drop personal...” Isabella took the iPad back from Leo, slowly closing it over, “Maybe you and your brother should stop jumping to conclusions and look closer to home...” walking past Leo, Isabella grinned to herself, “Thanks for the fun... but...” she turned and looked at him over her shoulder, “I still don’t like you...” leaving the Crown Prince behind.

Leo stood looking around the empty room, awkwardly running his fingers through his hair trying to understand what had just happened. “Damn... did she just?” he murmured to himself before chuckling and raising his brow, “Fuck...” Leo slowly began to smile, coming to a self realisation that the Brunette had played him at his own game.

[wallgirl]

La Squadra - Trailer Park Boys

1400 words, some harsh language, nothing worse

@moody-blues-requiem Here ya go

               Risotto awoke to the sound of violins blaring into his ear. With a groan, he dragged a sweaty hand over his face and grabbed his phone off the nightstand. The time was 11:02 AM, and somebody had changed his alarm tone from Master of Puppets to Thong Song. “Goddammit, Melone,” he groaned as Sisqo launched into the second verse. He shut the alarm off and threw his phone down onto the worn comforter, stretching his arms and reaching for his wife-beater that he’d discarded onto the floor the night before. Pulling it brusquely over his head, he got up to push the dusty blinds aside and look out into the yard.

               The bedroom window overlooked an area where three trailer lots met, meaning there were tons of grass growing along the property lines that no one bothered to mow and discarded beer cans and golf balls no one bothered to claim. That was, until Ghiaccio got around to bitching at them. He’d been doing a lot of that lately, since the summer heat was in full swing. No one hated the hot weather more than Ghiaccio. In the distance, a dog started barking viciously. A familiar voice – Formaggio? – sounded from somewhere nearby outside. “Shut up, Biggie!”

               Risotto stepped out of the dark bedroom and into the combined living and kitchen area of the trailer, taking care to avoid a plastic bag lying on the ground that had splatters of God-knows-what on it. Prosciutto was standing at the kitchen island, rollers in his hair and wrapped in a tattered blue bathrobe, mixing himself a drink.

               “You’re up late,” Prosciutto commented as he poured vodka into the plastic cup and added a maraschino cherry.

               “Melone messed with my alarm again.” Risotto rubbed his eyes, and as an afterthought, added, “I’m gonna kick his ass one of these days.”

               “You and me both,” Prosciutto snorted, taking a quick swig of the vodka before continuing to pour more into the cup. “You look like you’re in a hurry.”

               “Me, Sorbet, and Gelato have to head over to Carne’s today to take a look at his A/C,” Risotto said, grabbing a pitcher of orange juice from the fridge. He checked the expiration date and reconsidered, dropping it unceremoniously into the trash can nearby. “We’re late.”

               “That sounds like fun,” a second voice chirped. Illuso strode out from the second bedroom, pulling on his daisy-dukes and wiggling his hips. Risotto caught an eyeful of one stubbly ass-cheek hanging halfway out and groaned, turning his face away.

               “Like them?” Illuso teased with a smirk, slapping his butt to make it jiggle a bit. “I bleached and cut them myself, you know.”

               “And where the hell might you be going dressed like that?” Prosciutto asked, lip curled in disgust.

               “To the beach. It’s hot as hell outside, and Trish asked me if I wanted to go prowl and get ice cream.”

               Prosciutto spat his vodka out. “Trish?”

               Risotto’s eyes widened. “Why are you…?”

               “Hey, didn’t you say we should be getting friendly with her to get on the Boss’s good graces?” Illuso quipped, checking his eyebrows with a compact that he slipped into his back pocket. “Guess I’ll be doing the heavy-lifting. The rest of you creep her the hell out.”

               “Oh, and nobody’s gonna think you’re a creep going out like that,” Prosciutto hissed, glaring pointedly at Illuso’s rear-end.

               “I’m done here,” Risotto said flatly, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge instead and stepping out onto the front porch to light up a cigarette.

               In the gravel drive that made up most of the front yard, two men squatted next to a stripped-down riding lawnmower. Tools and greasy rags were spread out next to them, and a compact radio on the bottom front step fizzled out the day’s forecast. “High of 92 today, cooling down to a low of 73 by midnight,” the forecaster trilled. “Coming up, we’ll be playing Sugar Ray’s 1999 hit-“

               Risotto reached down abruptly and snapped the radio off. One of the men, wearing ripped jeans with the cuffs rolled up and a stained crop top knotted in the front, looked up. “Hey! You can’t turn off Sugar Ray on me.”

               “If you mess with my alarm again Melone, you’re a dead man.”

               “Geez,” Melone sighed, stretching his back and pulling at the knot in his shirt. “This heat might beat you to it, Risotto. But please, mind your language around the newest member to our family.” He rested a hand on the lawnmower.

               The man next to him smiled and pulled off his worn camo vest, using it to mop his forehead before tossing it away onto the gravel. “Way to put Risotto in a great mood, Melone.”

               “Don’t encourage him, Formaggio,” Risotto huffed.

               “Oh, I’m not, though I won’t pretend like I don’t get a kick out of it.”

               “Enough bullshitting. Have either of you seen Sorbet and Gelato?”

               Formaggio rose his eyebrows. “They didn’t come back last night?”

               “No. They said they were going to Denny’s. Haven’t heard from them since.”

               Melone slapped his cheek dramatically, leaving a grease smudge. “Oh, that’s right! They called last night. It was your phone, too. Happened while I was fucking with your alarm. They said they got arrested for starting some fight at the Dollar General down the road from Denny’s. They need you to bail them out.”

               Formaggio made a ‘yikes’ face and inched subtly away from Risotto, who had become a towering pillar of seething rage.

               “They called… and you never told me…?” He hissed, face dark with anger.

               “Well, it was like 2 AM,” Melone explained in all seriousness.

               Silence.

               “They didn’t even say ‘please,’” Melone added.

                Risotto’s sour expression didn’t change. Not one wrinkle.

               “Oh, come on, Risotto, you were bitching just last week about leaving them to sit for a few days if they got hauled in again,” Formaggio snorted. Risotto’s gaze slid away, conceding.

               “Hand me that socket, ‘mag,” Melone interjected, holding out a greasy hand.

               “What the hell are you two building now?”

               “We call her the Pesci-cutioner,” Melone beamed, giving the frame a loving caress. “Our latest pride and joy. We’re gonna haul her over to Cioccolata’s in a little bit so we can film Pesci catching some serious air.” Formaggio pursed back a grunting laugh.

               Prosciutto came out to join them on the porch, a new drink – this time a Natty Ice – in hand. “Did you say Cioccolata? That weird bastard who lives two blocks down?”

               “Yeah, why?”

               “Didn’t he set fire to some old grandpa’s house a few years back?”

               “Completely irrelevant, Pros,” Formaggio grinned, taking a drink from a nearby thermos. “He had the money to spare for a bigger ramp and a shared enthusiasm for seeing Pesci drive off into the blue, so we’re hauling the Pesci-cutioner over to his place. Besides, he’s got an actual video camera we can use.”

               “My Youtube followers are gonna loooove this one,” Melone whispered.

               “You are not fucking having Pesci drive off fucking anything!” Prosciutto screamed, drink sloshing in his hand. “Do you hear me?! I’ve had enough of this crap!”

               “Christ, Prosciutto, that’s my ear you’re screaming into!” Melone shouted, cupping his head. “Pesci’s twenty-two years old! Let the man have some fun and quit babying him!”

               “What was it the last time I had to take him to the ER?!” Prosciutto continued, face contorted with rage. “You remember! What, three eggnogs and the-?”

               “The paint pellets,” Formaggio finished. Melone choked his laughter back into his hand.

               “The god-damn paint pellets!” Prosciutto barreled on. “That’s right! I swear to God, if you even–“

               “Enough,” Risotto grumbled, patience gone. “They won’t be going anywhere with Pesci for a while anyway, Prosciutto. I have to take the truck to bail out Sorbet and Gelato.”

               “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Prosciutto ground out, rubbing his temple with his drink-free hand. “What was it this time?”

               “Disorderly conduct at the Dollar General on Webster.”

               “Of course it was.”

               “Aw, come on, Risotto, don’t ruin our fun!” Melone protested as Risotto swung open the truck’s door.

               “I’ll be back in an hour,” Risotto thundered, bringing the conversation to a close. “People can drive off whatever they fucking want to then.” And he drove off.

[veinereastath]

Random vent time, since I have nothing to do today; and writing about things that are bothering is known to be helpful :”)  A bit of rant about the Witcher (Aen Elle, guess what), feel free to scroll past it if it’s not your cup of tea. It may n0t even make sense or be productive, I felt just the need to to it, and tumblr is already a burning trashcan (that I still love somehow), I’m just adding some oil to it. Some spoilers ahead, from TW3 and Lady of The Lake.

1: Wild Hunt (I speak as per The Red Riders, not about the game title) in general was really poorly done (plot-wise), but at least CD Projekt Red admitted it was their fault and because of lack of time and resources. It happens, it’s fine, we still have books (... well, one [last one] book and about 30 pages in it, but damn, these are good pages). It’s been 5 years, it’s okay, we accepted it, many discussions were held on this account.

2: Wild Hunt may be done poorly, but Eredin himself got absolutely and devastatingly flattened to a pancake, while in the book he’s a juicy donut. No, right now I’m not talking look-wise (which isn’t that important anyways, I presume), but motivations and personality wise. That hurts more. Way more. Also, why make him kill Auberon on purpose? In the books it was accidental, and he himself was briefly shocked, but had to immediately return to his cold facade because capturing that goddamn escaping Ciri was the most important thing at the moment. Making him just a typical usurper was another reason to not see him as a good villain. The plot of TW3 could still be glorious if they actually stick to the “Auberon death was an accident, aphrodisiac + fisstech don’t work well together, it’s a fact” and Eredin became King as a natural way of things. Books never specified if he was actually the second in line for the throne, neither they say who actually became the King after Muircetach died, but it seems quite likely that it would be Glas. The whole idea of trying to open Ard Gaeth / beat the White Frost / invade the Witcher world would still make sense. And would be, of course, more interesting if CDPR would add those quests they had to scrap off for reasons I mentioned above [1]. For those not aware - there was one involving Geralt going undercover, trying to learn more about Caranthir and Hunt’s plans and it was supposed to be massive, but... <sad violin>  Also, the “Eredin killed Auberon on purpose” could make sense if it was somewhere stated that it was Avallac’h’s manipulation, but then Corine’s vision doesn’t make sense. Remember that Auberon died with Ciri at this side, with her holding his hand [book-wise]. She’s nowhere to be seen in this vision, and if I remember correctly the oneiromancer’s visions could not be fabricated. Sad violin intensifies.

3: Well, I’m a trash so of course I have to mention this somehow. Witcher 3 really went too much into “[Eredin’s] face resembled a bird of prey” line from Lady of the Lake but quite forgot that he was still an elf. And, surprised pikachu, Ciri immediately upon meeting him got interested in him, which he was aware of. Despite the fact that he was insulting her constantly, she wanted something from him <wink wink, remember the scene in the alcove in Tir na Lia?> This should be a sign that he must’ve looked both dangerous and attractive at the same time. Attractive to the point where his insults were not able to totally douse her fascination.  Eredin in Witcher 3 is perfect if you want to be terrified on spot. Though maybe they did it on purpose because they wanted to make a strong point that he’s the villain of the game, I don’t know. Also, making attractive elves is something they know how to do - Iorveth was pretty neat, the face features of elves in W3 are also really good (also god bless some normal sized elven ears, I can’t look at those big and long they have in Dragon Age for example). Avallac’h wasn’t portrayed exactly like he should (aquamarine eyes where? blonde hair where?) but he looked good, let’s admit it. Imlerith was quite-quite (though why THE FUCK is the poor guy bald, jeezus citrus). Okay, Ge’els is the symbol of Aen Elle glory and you can’t change my mind - they managed to create fantastic clothing, give him good, defined features, somehow predatory look (Eredin is crying in the corner) and quite a mature skin complexion with few blemishes here and there. And it was good, because it made him look natural, like he could genuinely exist, he wasn’t extraordinary perfect. I wanted to touch and feel his face so bad. Just oh god, the goth queen makeup, why? All Aen Elle are suffering from this condition. Well, male ones. The Aen Elle female in Crevan’s laboratory looks quite decent. Or they just didn’t want to change her model, since it is the same the Aen Seidhe female have in brothels, for example. 4: Ciri trusting Avallac’h and mentioning this trust at every occassion is... god, just no. I will try to describe her situation in Tir na Lia [from the book] in my own words: 1. Imagine that you’re running away from a man that was your captor [Bonhart] and used to torture you for weeks/months. During this escape you accidentaly find yourself in a foreign country, full of foreign people with their own language. They look different, they act different, they have different morals, everything, you name it. 2. One of those people [Avallac’h] is saying it’s a destiny that brought you here, and you have to pay the debt to all his people because your great grandfather from six [6] generations ago banged a girl they were literally creating for centuries. It’s your fault, pay for it, Ciri. 3. The man says that in order to pay that debt and be able to return to your country, you have to sleep with his boss and at the same time your great-great absolutely great grandfather from 7 generations ago [Auberon], because the mix of your genes and his genes will allow to extract some kind of gene that will make humanity immune to, I don’t know, Covid 19 for example. It’s the key to saving people, you have to do it. 4. Later you hear from this great-7 generation-grandfather that either you agree to this, or you will go into laboratory and they will forcefully take out your placenta (presumably).  5. Just to make you feel better, everyone in this foreign country is hostile towards you (passive-agressive is a better term, alright), so everyday you see this disgust on their faces. Not to mention that while Avallac’h is trying to play nice, Auberon didn’t manage to do it for long, while Eredin is straight forwardly describing you as a worthless being. <3

And she’s trusting him so much after that? Really? Now, I get that if you’re running away from mortal danger you will probably try to get every help you can, so I can somehow accept that she accepted Avallac’h’s protector role, but I don’t accept that she’s trusting him to such an extent. Why? Because trying to put a woman (or a man) in someone else’s bed fits the defitinion of rape perfectly. I find it hard to accept that she would be all “I trust him” after that. Not to mention that she was, I think, 16-17 years old at that time? I need to check this later... Okay, I’m done, sorry~ The only wish I have is that Netflix series will stay the hell out of any Aen Elle or Tir na Lia plotline. Please. I beg you. Don’t touch it. Don’t look at it. Leave it be, leave it to this one book, to this 30 pages, I absolutely beg you.  I sense Witcher Netflix rant coming from me soon, woohooho~

Forever salty, forever sad

[hockeytrashgoblin]

High ~Part 11

A/N: Soooo This is one of the parts that for some reason I felt just needed some bullshit drama. Sorry but also I’m not.

March 21st came faster than expected. Not only was I almost 7 months pregnant but it was little Grayson's second birthday. It was only family but Mitch wanted to go all out anyway.

The house was decorated with a lot of zoo animals. Grayson was in a phase where exotic animals were the coolest thing in the world so we really played into that. Mitch didn't let me help with anything. He was too worried so he got Will and Freddie to help instead. Everyone had been pretty worried about me which was annoying. Just because I was pretty big didn't mean I couldn't hang some streamers. I did all the housework when he was away at games so I didn't really get it but oh well.

Grayson was having a lot of fun playing with everyone. His aunts, uncles, grandparents, Freddie and William were all there so 12 guests in total. Right now he was jumping on my dad, giggling like crazy.

"I can't believe how big he's getting." Mitch said coming and sitting on the other side of me that William wasn't on.

"I know. My sweet baby boy is two already."

"Did you want to do cake now?"

"Yeah that sounds good." I gave him a quick kiss. "Alright everybody cake time!"

We all gathered around the kitchen table and I sat with Gray on my lap. We all sang happy birthday to him and I helped him blow out the candles.

"Happy birthday baby boy!" I said kissing his forehead.

"I'm not a baby anymore. I'm 2." He said holding up two fingers.

"I'm sorry honey you're right. My big boy."

"Can I have cake?"

"Of course sweetheart." I sat him down and brought the cake to the kitchen to cut it to give out to everyone. Gray had two pieces because he wanted to be like his dad. His sweet toothed glutton of a dad. Gray had much smaller pieces though. After cake we opened presents. My parents worked together combining woodworking and crafting to make him a beautiful Horton hears a who wall hanging. Dr. Suess was Gray's favourite thing. We read books to him every single day.

Ema got him a book in Spanish about grandma's loving grandkids. Freddie got him a few tonka trucks. William got him a small violin. He said so that me and Grayson could play together. I almost cried but I held it together. Everyone else got him an array of toys and stuffed animals. When we got down to the last gift I was confused because everyone was accounted for. I let gray open it and a blue jersey was in the box. He pulled it out and it said Matthews on the back. My blood boiled and I saw red. 

"Gray, go with uncle Willy."

"Where?" Will asked quietly.

"I don't care."

I waited until I heard the door to the backyard close. Mitch held my hand to try to calm me down but I pulled it away.

"Don't." I said sharply. "Is this some kind of sick joke?"

"(Y/n)-" Mitch tried but I interrupted him.

"No! Who the fuck did this?" I asked holding up the jersey. The room was silent which aggravated me more. "Somebody had to do this. Who? Who is this from?"

"It's from Auston." Brian said quietly.

"I told you not to tell him it was his birthday." Ema said smacking her husband's arm with tears in her eyes.

"He deserves to know, it's his son."

"It's not. He isn't. Why would you ever think this was okay?" I stormed out of the living room and to the kitchen. Brian came in followed Mitch, followed by Ema.

"You literally broke the first condition of being in Grayson's life. I didn't want Auston to know anything about him. Have you been telling him everything this whole time?"

"Sweetie I haven't told Auston a thing about him. I promise you that." Ema said trying to reach out to me. I let her because I believed her. She was crying and I felt bad but I was still angry.

"Auston deserves to know."

"Then he should give a damn and ask me about him. Or Mitch but more so me. He doesn't just get to fuck off for two years and just get to know everything."

"(Y/n) you're being unreasonable. Stop throwing a tantrum, it's his son."

"Brian he's not. He's Mitch's son."

"Grayson is a Matthews. Auston is his father."

"He's a Marner." I sneered quietly as Mitcg held onto me keeping me back.

"You're delusional."

"I'm not. Mitch has been raising him for two years. Mitch has taken care of our family since he found out I was pregnant with Gray. Mitch's name is on the birth certificate. And Grayson's name on his birth certificate is Grayson Harry Marner. You know what Auston's done?" I didn't give him a chance to answer before continuing. "Auston promised me the world. Said he was going to marry me. Then he left me 2 months pregnant and never spoke to me again. He told Mitch that he was doing a shit job of raising Gray. Made him feel bad for taking over where your son just fucked off, for making sure the kid Auston made was cared for in every way possible. If anyone here is delusional, it's you Brian. Thinking that Auston has any right at all to know a damn thing about my baby."

"You're hysterical. You're out of your mind. Keeping my grandson away from his father because you're hung up on being left. If I were Auston I'd have left too. It seems like he dodged a bullet."

"Get out of my house." Mitch said in a hard voice. "Before (y/n) punches you in the head."

"So now she resorts to violence. Maybe she shouldn't have custody of my grandson."

"Brian! How dare you!" Ema look absolutely appalled and disgusted with her husband.

"You are so fucking far out of line it's not even funny." Mitch said stepping between us.

"Brian we need to go. Now." Ema said as if she were talking down on a child who was caught stealing.

"Now and forever. Brian you are no longer welcome in my home or near my son." I said a little more calm. "I don't care how you think of me, you won't be seeing my baby again."

"That won't happen."

"Oh you'll find that it will. Thank you Brian for ruining Grayson's second birthday for me. I won't forget it any time soon. Just leave. Mitchy party's over." I just cried and left going up to our room.

I don't know how long I was up there but eventually Mitch came in and found me sitting on the floor with the tiny jersey in my hands still crying.

"Babe Gray is downstairs with William still. I came to see how you were." He came and sat beside me wrapping his arm around me. "What are you doing baby."

"The bastard signed the jersey." I said with a humorless laugh. 

"Are you serious?"

"What an arrogant bitch!" I yelled throwing the shirt into the corner of our room. "Who the fuck does he think he is?"

"I don't know baby. I'm sorry."

"We're not keeping this. Can we do something Mitch? Bring it to a kid in the hospital when we go next? I can't keep a signed Matthew's jersey. Grayson is not wearing it. If as he grows up he likes him he can get one but I'm not keeping this now."

"Yeah for sure. We can absolutely do that my love." He pulled me into his lap and cradled me in his arms.

"I dont want to throw it out if there's someone we can make happy with it."

"That's really sweet of you baby."

"We need to have a conversation with Auston."

"If you want to try we can. Or we can just leave it alone. Or I can talk to him before practice."

"No. Let's just leave it as much as we can. I think maybe you should call him and explain what happened here."

"I'll do that you baby. No worries. Just settle down okay? Stress isn't good for you or the babies."

"I just can't believe that Brian would do this. I'm not letting him back. I really meant that Mitchy."

"That's okay love. Auston isn't going to know anything more and that is your choice 100%."

"I hate him Mitch. I don't want to hate your best friend but I do. I hate him so much." I said sobbing into his shoulder. "I wanted to stay neutral and not care but the fucking bitch sent a signed Matthews jersey to Gray. I dont know if it's for himself wanting to be part of his life or if it was just to get a reaction but it's fucked either way. I can't believe he'd do that."

"Baby it's okay. I'm positive Fred is gonna have a talk with him at practice but I'll say something too. Let him know that it's not okay to fuck around like that."

"Thank you lovey." We stayed there Mitch just rocking me for what felt like hours before there was a knock on the door.

"Hey guys sorry to interrupt but we've got a sad little boy on our hands and I can't get him happy again." William was bouncing Gray on his hip while he just cried on his shoulder.

"Oh no my baby boy come here." William gave him to me and I held my crying boy. "Whatsa matter honey?"

"I'm sad."

"How come?" Mitch asked rubbing his back.

"Mommy's sad. I made her sad."

"Gray how do you think you do that?"

"I opened the present."

"No my sweet boy that wasn't your fault at all. You didn't do anything wrong my love. Grandpa Brian did something to make me sad, not you."

"Don't be sad mommy. I love you."

"I love you too my sweet boy." I kissed his head and let out a small laugh. "How could I ever be sad with my little man around?"

"No more sad." He said poking my nose making me laugh. "I'm the boss."

"Yessir." I said saluting him.

"Can I have more cake?"

"Gray you'll barf." Mitch said messing up his hair.

"Hey. I'm the boss." He said pointing at Mitch.

"Not the boss of cake. You can have more cake tomorrow alright?"

"Okay." He said disappointment lacing his voice.

"How about we go bring your new things up to your room?" William asked him.

"Mommy and daddy have to help."

"We'll come help Grayson."

We all went back downstairs and started bringing things up one trip at a time. It didn't help that the boys were being ridiculous and used Gray as a table to bring up some stuffed animals. It didn't work since Grayson was giggling too hard but he was having fun again and I was too so that's all that really mattered.

[staticscreenwriting]

To the stars beyond the blue - one

Summary: Kathleen Sawyer has a problem with authority and people telling her what to do, especially if “people” is her Stepdad Dave. Having had enough of her attitude, Dave and her mom decide it’s time for her to leave behind the temptations of New York City and learn some responsibility while staying with her aunt Susan in small, sleepy Hawkins, Indiana. Though what neither of them know, is that the biggest temptation is waiting for her right there and it comes with a mullet and a killer smile.

This is gonna be an 18+ series. I’m planning to add quite a bit of smut, swearing and topics that could potentially be triggering to some people (domestic abuse - physical and emotional). The abuse will not be romanticized, I promise you that. Just be aware that these themes will be mentioned and explored. 

next chapter >>

Chapter one - meet Kathleen

Ron’s Deli smells like old grease and cigarette smoke and the fluorescent lights send a loud buzzing noise through the entire place. There’s an assortment of sandwiches displayed, though I know better than to order any of them. Coffee, that’s what I’m here for. Coffee and warmth.

My boots, still wet from the snow covering the streets outside, make a squeaking sound against the linoleum floor that alerts Ruby who’s slumped over the counter, flicking through some kind of fashion magazine. 

“ Haven’t seen you in a while “ she murmures, eyes focusing back on the magazine, making no attempt to actually take my order. 

“ Some of us actually work, you know “ I reply. That’s not even close to the truth and Ruby knows this just as well as I do. But neither of us acknowledges it because that’s not the relationship we have. I don’t want to talk about it and she doesn’t care. So we settle for superficial quips. 

“ Bite me, Kathleen. “ 

“ Nah thanks, you know my rules. No food at Ron’s. Just coffee “ 

“ Just coffee “ she repeats then turns around and grabs the pot and pours me a big mug of steaming hot coffee.

“ Thanks. Put it on my tab. “ 

She always nods but never actually does. I don’t think I’ve paid for my coffee in years.

I drag myself towards my booth in the furthest corner of the place. I call it my booth but if we’re being overly correct I have to mention that I do, in fact, not have ownership of this particular booth. It’s just the one I always find myself in. Have done so for years.

The tv mounted up in the corner is playing some black and white christmas movie. The volume is too low to hear anything being said but I can tell the movie after a few seconds. Miracle on 34th street. I remember watching it with my dad when I was a kid. He was always big about old black and white movies. 

I never told him but I don’t really like it. There’s a thing about Christmas movies where even though most of them have happy endings, a lot of them always make you feel miserable for a huge amount of the runtime. It’s like “look at this sad person ON CHRISTMAS. Then remember how lucky you are. Because you too could be sad. ON CHRISTMAS “.

It’s very preachy and if I’m being honest, I don’t see the appeal of movies that purposely make me sad. 

Back then I wasn’t really aware of what it feels like to be sad on Christmas. I do now. It’s like they describe it in the movies only 10 times worse. Because there’s no happy ending waiting for you after 120 minutes. It just goes on and leads to a sad new years and a sad spring and a sad summer.

“ Oh, Christmas isn't just a day, it's a frame of mind...  “ oh fuck right of, Kris you absolute bullshitter.

The bell above the door pulls me from my Christmas blues and I watch a couple stumble into the shop. They’re smiling, holding hands. The dude can’t seem to keep his lips of her neck. She walks up to the counter. I can only imagine Ruby’s annoyed sigh and the roll of her eyes.

“ Hi, two turkey delis please “ the girl says between giggles. I feel kinda bad for her. She must be a tourist. Locals know not to eat at Ron’s. Only coffee. Iced tea in the summer. That’s it.

Ruby grumbles something to them before they settle down in the booth across from me. Well there goes me sulking in silence. I try to ignore their loved up giggles as the warm coffee makes its way down my throat. I really try not to pay them any attention. But once I notice his hand squeezing her boobs, that’s enough to make even me uncomfortable.

I take one last sip then scoot out of the boot hand walk towards Ruby. She’s resorted from flipping through the magazine to using the magazine as a underlay while she paints her nails right there on the counter. Another reason not to eat here. 

“ So what do you say, do I suit this color ? “ She asks and holds a hand out for me to see. She always paints them red, every single time. Apparently they’re all different shades though so far I’ve been unable to see even the slightest difference.

“ Sure. “ 

“ Thanks for the enthusiasm.” 

“ You’re welcome. Anyway, I’m going to head out. Thanks for the coffee. “

Ruby looks up again then throws a disapproving look at the couple that is pretty much dry humping each other at this point “ did the lovebirds scare you off ? Disgusting. “ 

“ Let them be, they’re in love. “ 

She scoffs at that then goes back to her nails “ of course you’d think that. You’re just as bad. “ 

“ What does that mean ? “ 

“ Means I’ve seen you at parties. With guys. It’s uh — quite something really. “ 

“ Ah shut up, Ruby. “ I say and roll my eyes. It’s none of her business really. Though I know it doesn’t come from a place of malice, her words still rub me the wrong way. I have to remind myself that she’s just bitter. She should be married right now, living with her husband in some cute little house in Jersey, popping a few kids and living the suburban dream. Instead he fucked her sister at the rehearsal dinner and she’s left alone, bitter, sad and working at a really shitty deli.

“ Just sayin’ “ 

“ Mmh. Anyway tell your dad I said hi and to call me if he ever feels lonely. “ 

“ You’re vile. “ 

I only smile at that, pull my jacket closer around my body and step into the cold december air.

New York City is always busy. Always. People crowd the streets like ants on a popsicle forgotten on the lawn in a hot summer’s day. Though around christmas time, it feels like twice as many people flock to the city to catch a glimpse of what the perceived to be the ultimate manifestation of christmas magic.

The truth is, it’s cold and loud and crowded and if anything, it’s a perfect reminder just how materialistic we humans really are. If there’s anything to advertise, you’ll get it advertised here. They try to appeal to your innermost romantic. That girl that believes diamonds and flowers are a sign of true love. That kid that still holds faith in santa and miracles.

It makes me a little sick as I pass store after store, bustling with holiday shoppers. 

The further I walk the colder it gets. I tug my beanie further down my head, trying to keep my ears warm as I hop down the steps of the subway station. There’s an older man playing the violin while wearing a santa hat. I toss him a quarter and he gives me a smile and I feel like I’ve just earned a few karma points. Shiny gates, I’m coming for you.

It’s early december and New York is fucking freezing. It’s an all consuming kind of cold. The one you feel seeping through your body all the way to your bones. I wish I could say it goes away once I’m home and snuggled up in my bed. It doesn’t. It’s the kind of cold that stays with you. 

There’s a man eying me as I step on the train, he’s got bushy unkempt eyebrows and a mean mustache. His tongue licks at his bottom lip every few seconds. Like a deranged snake or something, only way creepier. I try to avoid eye contact. Eye contact it seems only works as a silent invitation to guys like him. 

From the corner of my eye I take notice of all his moves though. One has to be prepared always. I grab a hold of my keyes, let them stick out between my knuckles. I don’t know if he notices. I hope he does.

When the train pulls up at my stop, my heart speeds up a little. A silent mantra echoes through my head “please don’t get up. Please don’t get up.” It’s one thing being tough and brave when you’re in a train with many other people. It’s a whole different story when you’re passing through dark, deserted alleyways on your way home.

The trains stops and I wipe my sweaty hand on my jeans. He eyes me again as I step up to the doors. I’m still avoiding eye contact but at this point I can tell that he can tell. I can just about make out as his lips pull into a smirk. There’s nothing amusing about this situation, not to me at least. To think that he finds joy in this makes me physically sick.

The doors open and I step outside, a gust of cold wind hitting my face. I turn around and the doors close behind me and, to my delight, I can see him sitting in the same spot, looking at me through the dirty window of the train. He winks as the train pulls away and I can feel my lunch making its way up my throat again.

I can hear them yelling as I unlock the door. Dave’s voice thunders through the place, spewing expletives and hatred. 

“ Jesus Christ, Joan. What is wrong with you? Spending money on shit we don’t need but the one thing, the one thing I asked you to buy, you forget ? Are you really that fucking dumb ? “

My blood starts boiling though I know better than to step in. It only makes it worse.

Mom says sorry. So many times. Too many times. Her voice is timid and small and I hate that this is what he turns her into. When I was little mom was strong and brave and happy. She was creative and fun and adventurous. Now she’s but a shell of herself. An obedient little housewife who settles for a man that treats her like absolute dirt.

They look up at me as I enter the kitchen room and I can see fear in my mom’s eyes. I think that’s the worst thing. To see your mom scared. No kid should have to see their mom this scared. I wish I didn’t. 

“ Hi. “ 

“ Look who’s finally decided to show up. Where’ve you been ? “ Dave scoffs. He thinks just because my mom spreads her legs for him, he gets any say in what I do. Truth is, he doesn’t give a fuck what I do, he’s just a sucker for control. It’s like his ultimate wet dream, to have us do exactly how he says and behave just the way he asks us to. 

“ Out. “ 

“ Out where ? “

“ None of your business. “ 

“ Kathleen “ mom scolds me. I know she has this fantasy of us three living like a perfect family, all happy and joyful. Smiling at each other as we sit around the dinner table talking about our days before we settle on the couch to watch Happy Days.

That’s not reality though. Reality looks pretty bleak right now. Reality is absolute bullshit.

“ I was at the library, okay ? “ 

“ With a boy ? “ 

“ No, what the fuck are you on about. “ 

“ I know the kind of girl you are, Kat. I know girls like you. “ 

Girls like me. 

Dude doesn’t know shit.

“ Sluts “ he spits out. I know he does it to rile me up. He’s just waiting for me to make a mistake so he can put me in my place and assert his dominance. God, he’s such an asshole.

“ Dave ! Don’t call her th— “ mom doesn’t get to finish the sentence before he smacks her across the face, a loud slapping noise echoing through the room. It never gets easier. Watching him hit her. Watching her excuse his actions. Watching them continue as normal.

“ I told you, to shut up, Joan. You know what happened with the boy. The man.“ 

I lock eyes with her, begging her to say something. Do something. End this misery. She has the power to do so. This is our apartment. Out food. Our money. She has all the power in the world and yet, when she averts her eyes, I know it means nothing. 

Dave looks at me again then flops down on the couch, resting his feet on the couch table and clutching a beer in his meaty slob of a hand.

“ Ma, “ I approach her, wanting to comfort her. This is my mother and despite her flaws and issues, I love her. Sometimes I wonder if she returns the sentiment. 

“ I’m okay. “ 

“ But you’re not!” 

“ I said, I am okay. “ the look in her eyes gives me no room to argue. This conversation is over. This topic is over. For now. 

Because those things are never really over, are they ? 

I take a can of coke from the fridge then sit down on the bench by the window. The snow is softly falling outside and if I didn’t despise the cold so much, I’d even call it pretty. It’s a huge contrast to how things are inside right now. Snow falls slowly, piecefully. My mind is chaos, loud and crowded like Times Square on New Years. 

I try to focus on my book and not on Dave who belches after every gulp of beer or my mom who’s perched on the corner of the couch, close enough for him to feel validated and yet far enough for her own comfort. I hate that this place doesn’t feel like a home anymore. It feels like a prison. Like a cage.

That annoying coke commercial comes on tv and I remember a christmas, many years ago. Dad sits in the recliner, we’re in our old apartment and it’s warm inside. The snow falls softly and the place smells like nutmeg and cinnamon. Mom is happily singing along to the commercial and dad’s placing a kiss on her head and it’s not a very important memory but it means so much to me. Because those christmases were good. 

My eyes wander towards the shelf by the door, the one that holds a lot of things. Those kind of things you don’t know where else to put. There’s a bowl you’re supposed to put keys in, none of us ever do, and a sculpture I made in 4th grade art class. There’s random books and records and a cassette deck that doesn’t work anymore. 

I look the shelf up and down, searching for the one thing in there that means something. The one thing I deliberately placed there because I wanted to see it every time I leave the house.

But it’s gone and my heart shatters.

“ Where’s the picture of dad ? “ 

“ Huh ? “ mom looks up at me. I can see it in her eyes. She heard me just right and she knows where it is.

“ The picture of dad on the shelf. Where is it ? “ 

“ It’s time to move on “ Dave chimed in with his throaty, dark voice. He sounds like he constantly has a meatball stuck in his gullet. It’s fucking disgusting. “ He’s been dead for years now. No use in grieving no more. “ 

Use in greiving ? Does he think we chose to be sad ? Does he really think I can just go and decide not to miss my dad anymore ? Not to be sad anymore ? Not to feel like my heart is bursting into a million little pieces whenever something reminds me of my dad ?

“ What did you do ? “ 

“ Put it where it belongs ?  “ 

I can feel the hot red rage burning inside, behind my eyes, in the tips of my fingers. 

“ What does that mean ? “ 

“ He’s gone, Kat. Get over it. I live here now and I don’t wanna be reminded of that fact that your ma had another man before me. It don’t matter no more, you’re my family now !” he bellows, getting off his ass and towering over me like a giant sequoia tree.

This man doesn’t know the first thing about being a family. I don’t know a lot about it either but I know this isn’t it.

“ Fuck you, Dave. Dad belongs here ! We’re his family, mom is his wife. You’re just some asshole she keeps around for god knows what reasons. Just a boyfriend, those come and go “.

He’s awfully silent at that. It’s scarier than the yelling and the mean words. Like he’s taking it all in, waiting, building. It’s gonna come crashing down on me in a minute, I just know it.

The snarl disappears and makes room for a smirk so unsettling, it freezes my blood right there in my veins.

“ Is that so ? Tell her Joan. “ 

“ Tell me what ? “ Oh god. Oh god, no.

“ Dave, this is not the ti— “ 

“ Tell her ! “ he yells and mom flinches then turns to me, eyes never once leaving the carpet.

“ Baby, Dave and I we — we decided it was time to take our relationship to the next level.” 

No. 

No.

No.

“ We’re getting married. “

“ No. “ I say, as if my opinion matters to anyone here. “ Mom, you can’t. You can’t do this. Mom “ 

I beg and I plead and I can feel the tears rising, hardly able to keep them at bay. I feel so small, so helpless.

“ We can and we will ! We’ve also talked about you … “ Dave starts and by the satisfied smirk on his face I can tell whatever he’s about to say, I won’t like it.

“ We had a long discussion about you and your behavior. The skipping school, the parties, the boys. It needs to stop. You need to learn some responsibility. Some respect. “ 

“ Mom. “ I try to meet her eyes, try to get her attention. This can’t be happening. 

“ It’s for the best, baby. “ 

“ What is ? “ 

Dave takes over the conversation again. God I wish he would just disappear. Vanish into nothingness. Where he belongs. “ We think the city is no good place for a young woman to grow up. Too many distractions. Too many temptations. How could you ever become a proper wife growing up in this place. “

“ Are you saying you want to send me away ? “ 

Mom looks up at me finally, and I can see the pain in eyes. And for the first time, I am glad. I hope she’s hurting. I hope it rips her heart out. I hope she feels the same pain she did when dad died. Because this, this is on her. This is a conscious choice she makes. For herself. For me. For our family.

I hope it hurts her because it kills me.

“ I uh — I talked to Susan. You remember her, right ? My half-sister. She uh — she lives in this cute little town in Indiana. Lots of nature. It’s very picturesque she says. They have a house there, she and her husband and the kids. Her step son is your age. I think — I think It’d do you some good. Susan says he’s calmed down his temper since they moved. Maybe it will work for you. “ 

I want to say so much. I want to scream and cry and throw a tantrum but the pain I feel numbs me to my bones. It’s like all energy is sucked right out of me. I’m too exhausted to react. Too exhausted to fight back.

So I do what I do best. I run. Take my keys, my jacket, my bag. And I run out into the night. The snow. The cold.

Whatever is out there isn’t half as harsh as what’s waiting for me in this place.

I know I have to go back eventually but for now I need to get out and save myself from drowning in my own despair. In the picture of a family that is no family at all and the memories of what used to be.

As I walk down the street I pass a park. There’s a concert going on. A choir sings “ Have yourself a merry little christmas”.

I want to throw up. I do throw up, in the bin by the park bench. 

Merry fucking christmas, Kathleen. I’m sure it’ll be a great one.

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas Let your heart be light From now on your troubles will be out of sight”

Absolute bullshit, my dudes. Absolute bullshit.

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Ruining KISStory: A Filthy, Filthy Story About Benjamin Franklin

So in celebration of surviving my French midterm (my anxiety over it was through the roof for some damn reason), I decided I would post this crazy little thing for y’all! So in like, actual real life, Shane for a while did his own show called Ruining History, which I totally recommend for you guys to actually watch. So this is a spinoff of my KISS Unsolved AU, appropriately named Ruining KISStory (a name I’m super fucking proud of actually XD), in which our resident Queen of the Trolls Paul Stanley gives us his own creative spin on historical events. And yes, it’s going to be just as chaotic as Unsolved lol. Here’s the link to the original episode if you want to watch that first. 

And now, without further ado, enjoy!

Tag list: @cosmicrealmofkissteria​  @ashestoashesvvi​  @kategwidt​  @retronova​

[camera opens on Paul, who is sitting at a panel. A map of the world is hung up behind him. The sound of tuning violins plays in the background]

PAUL: Some people think history is boring. But I think Benjamin Franklin might have been in some weird sex parties!

[intro, then title card. Grand orchestra music plays in the background]

[cuts back to the panel; the shot has been widened so the entire panel is visible. From left to right: Vinnie, Gene, Paul, Eric C., Tommy. Labels showing their names come up on screen]

PAUL: So what do you guys know about Ben Franklin?

VINNIE: … Kites!

ERIC: Ethics?

TOMMY: Oh! He used the kite and a key and discovered electricity!

GENE: Oh yeah, we learned about that in school.

PAUL: Pretty sure every school tells that story.

GENE: He also helped Nicholas Cage find treasure.

PAUL: [gives him a withering look before turning away] Okay. [Tommy laughs]

[screen cuts away to a title card:

CHAPTER I:

THE AMERICAN OVERACHIEVER

screen then cuts to animations as Paul narrates, while inspiring music you would hear in a film set during the American Revolution plays in the background]

PAUL [voiceover]: Born in 1706, Benjamin Franklin is often thought of as the model American citizen. Throughout his life, he was… well, he was a lot of things. Seriously, a lot of things.

[a list of text boxes appears on screen next to a picture of a statue of Benjamin Franklin:

POLITICIAN

AUTHOR

SCIENTIST

CIVIC LEADER

POSTMASTER

MEDIA MOGUL

INVENTOR

DIPLOMAT

I COULD KEEP GOING BUT YOU GET IT]

PAUL [voiceover]: Beyond all that, though, he seems like the kind of guy you wouldn’t mind having a drink with. But, if you did spend some quality time with Ben Franklin, things might get weird.

[cuts back to panel; Vinnie looks intrigued]

VINNIE: By weird, do you mean [waggles his eyebrows] weird or just eccentric-weird?

PAUL: I mean [waggles his eyebrows] weird.

ERIC: [looks a little nervous] Oh no… I really liked Ben Franklin as a kid.

GENE: Well, he’s gonna ruin the history books for ya, Eric.

TOMMY: Oh is that why it’s called Ruining History?

PAUL: Yep!

TOMMY: Nice, I like that.

PAUL: Thank you. [cuts back to animation sequence]

PAUL [voiceover]: In the years during and after America’s fight for independence, Franklin spent much of his time serving as a diplomat in Europe. And it’s a good thing he did. Author Walter Isaacson has argued that America wouldn’t have won the war without Franklin’s excellent diplomacy in France. It wasn’t all politics, though. At the time, Paris was regarded as one of the most cosmopolitan cities at that time in history. And a wave of cultural enlightenment paired with a strong economy gave the upper class the means to… well… [music intensifies] have many crazy, crazy, crazy… crazy nights…

But we’ll get to that in a second! Franklin seemed to find himself right at home in this environment. To give an idea of his bohemian life abroad, here’s a curious morning routine he picked up during his time in France.

GENE: I bet it was, powder on the balls. [Eric laughs]

PAUL: [snickering] Powder the wig, powder the balls.

TOMMY: Powder the balls, get out on the street, and do something! [Vinnie laughs]

PAUL [voiceover]: While writing to a friend of his, Franklin described his habit of taking what he called “air baths.” Quote, “I rise almost every morning and sit in my chamber without any clothes whatever, half an hour or an hour, according to the season, either reading or writing. The practice is not in the least bit painful, but on the contrary, agreeable.”

[cuts to the left side of the panel. Gene looks uncomfortable, while Vinnie just gives a raised eyebrow]

GENE: I don’t know what it was about how people wrote during this time, but describing sexual acts in this kinda language makes it dirtier than it actually is.

PAUL: There’s nothing sexual about this.

VINNIE: There’s no sexuality here, Genie, your mind is just dirty.

TOMMY: Yeah, he’s just sitting around his house naked.

VINNIE: I mean if the hand just happens to fall…

GENE: Vinnie, I can’t believe I’m saying this to you, but guys—we don’t just jerk off on accident!

ERIC: I mean… I have no idea how to respond to that.

PAUL: I think some guys do.

TOMMY: Peter does.

PAUL: [raises an eyebrow at him while they all turn to stare at Tommy] … How do you know that?

ERIC: I could’ve gone my whole life without hearing that. [cuts back to the animation sequence]

PAUL [voiceover]: Franklin’s social calendar in Europe was full of invites to gluttonous but incredibly classy all-night ragers, where his status as an American statesmen made him a pretty interesting guy. The women of France allegedly couldn’t get enough of him. One account describes hundreds of women surrounding him, placing a beautiful wreath upon his head, and lining up to kiss him.

ERIC: That didn’t happen… right?

PAUL: [shrugs] I dunno, it could have happened.

VINNIE: That sounds like something you would do to your old grandpa, though.

[silence. Everyone on the panel turns to stare at Vinnie in confusion]

TOMMY: What?

GENE: So you’re saying, at family gatherings—

VINNIE: No! I’m just saying, that doesn’t seem like something you’d do to someone you wanna get with. Like, would you put a funny hat on them? No. [silence] I’m just saying, you guys!

[cuts back to animation sequence]

PAUL [voiceover]: Ben’s home life was, according to accounts, equally spicy. When famous painter Charles Willson Peale paid Franklin a surprise visit one afternoon, he spied the elderly diplomat with a young woman seated on his lap. [cuts to a sketch showing a man with a woman on his lap] This sketch of his is believed to depict the two. Kinda weird that he would sketch that, but hey.

[cuts to the panel; everyone is looking at their own copies of the sketch]

GENE: She seems to have a pretty good grip on his balls.

TOMMY: That’s a, a vice-like grip there.

VINNIE: They’re still wearing pretty much everything.

ERIC: Did you guys notice their eyes? Their eyes are open and they’re just staring at each other.

PAUL: Yeah, their eyes are pretty striking.

VINNIE: Yeah…

ERIC: They’re kissing, but it’s, it’s a little unnerving. Wonder why the guy would sketch this…

PAUL [voiceover]: Some historians have evaluated Ben Franklin’s habit of charming the elite women of Europe as a strategic ploy, suspecting that he hoped that they would speak favorably of Franklin and his case for American liberty to their policy-making husbands. But many others argue that he was just a vulgar old man. Author Albert Henry Smith wrote that Franklin’s, quote, “animal instincts and passions were strong and rank.”

VINNIE: [looks mildly disgusted] Well that’s descriptive.

GENE: [snickering]: Y’know, good old animal Ben.

PAUL: An animal…

GENE: Hey, hey: I’m an animal.

PAUL: [stares for a second, then smiles] Ah!

GENE: Ah! [high-fives Paul]

ERIC: Wait, if he was born in… when was he born?

PAUL: 1706.

ERIC: If he was born in 1706… then how old was he when all this was happening?

PAUL: He would have been… probably between his late 60s and early 70s.

[Eric’s face looks very shocked, slowly contorting into disgust]

TOMMY: Oh man, he was as old as my grandpa!

GENE: [shrugs] Hey, if it still works… [cuts back to animation sequence]

PAUL [voiceover]: Based on Franklin’s party-animal-rock-star lifestyle, it makes sense that he would be in the same social circles as some of Europe’s more notorious scoundrels; and so he was. So let us now turn our attention to a man whose life would soon intersect with Franklin’s: Sir Francis Dashwood.

VINNIE: [snickering] Very English name. [mock British accent] Sir Francis Dashwood!

[screen cuts away to a title card:

CHAPTER II

THE FANCY ENGLISH SEX MAN

lighthearted music plays]

PAUL [voiceover]: Born in 1708, Sir Francis Dashwood was the only heir of a wealthy merchant. He’s perhaps best summed up by one author’s description: “An enormously rich man with a genius for obscenity.” Dashwood’s primary interests were seemingly set in stone when in his formative years, he embarked on his Grand Tour, a traditional rite of passage during which wealthy young men traveled through Europe on a cultural odyssey. As Dashwood’s tutor put it, he, quote, “fornicated his way across Europe.” In one instance, he even seduced the Empress of Russia while claiming to be Charles the Twelfth of Sweden, a man who was, at that point, dead.

TOMMY: Wait, did she not know Charles the Twelfth was dead?

PAUL: I mean, if she got fooled by this guy, I’m pretty sure she had no idea.

VINNIE: This was the era before email and the Internet, so word traveled pretty slowly. Also, [laughs] I love how his tutor says he pretty much fucked his way across Europe.

GENE: Wonder how he got her to sleep with him…

ERIC: I don’t think we need to know the details, Gene.

GENE: Maybe you don’t.

PAUL [voiceover; tense music plays]: These travels also inspired Dashwood’s fascination with sacred rituals of the past. He wasn’t really a fan of the religious institutions of his day, but he was simultaneously fascinated with Europe’s rich history. So when he wasn’t womanizing, he was sauntering through dusty catacombs lined with mummified corpses, or sitting in old Roman ruins imagining the orgies of the past. So it’s this odd mutual appreciation for debauchery and sacred history that would lead to Dashwood’s crowning achievement and ultimately his friendship with Ben Franklin: the Friars of St. Francis of Wycombe. Or, as it was more popularly known…

[music reaches a climactic peak as the name appears on screen over burning flames. Paul reads the name]

THE HELLFIRE CLUB!

GENE: Oh shit.

VINNIE: That sounds awesome.

PAUL [voiceover]: Dashwood’s Hellfire Club was meant to attract the most depraved and intellectual men of the time. And over the course of its history, its lineup would allegedly include such notable men as the Prime Minister of England, the Lord Mayor of London, several of England’s greatest artists and poets, the Prince of Wales, and possibly, as evidence would strongly suggest, Ben Franklin. See, Dashwood was publicly known to sympathize with the cause of the American rebels, and he had exchanged letters with Franklin many times. Furthermore, Franklin actually visited Dashwood’s estate at West Wycombe for an extended period in July of 1772, and during his stay, there is a record of a club meeting taking place. According to one author, quote, “there seems to be no reason why Franklin should have gone to Wycombe at this special time unless he was a member. Only club members were allowed at Dashwood’s estate during club meetings.” So, keeping in mind Franklin’s likely involvement, let’s look at what he would have encountered during his visits with the Friars of St. Francis of Wycombe.

The members of the club reportedly donned white monk’s robes, and were each allowed to invite along, quote, “a lady of a cheerful, lively disposition, to improve the general hilarity.” These women also dressed up, wearing nun’s robes and masks to avoid an embarrassing run-in with a husband or acquaintance.

GENE: This is some freaky stuff.

VINNIE: [looks enthralled] This is awesome.

TOMMY: Eyes Wide Shut…

PAUL: [nods] Yep.

PAUL [voiceover]: The first location of the Hellfire Club was on the shores of an island in the Thames River. Shrouded in a thick grove of elm trees, the island was the perfect location for the not-monks to spend an evening with their dates away from the prying eyes of the public. It was also ideal because it was home to the crumbling remnants of an old medieval ruin built in 1160 known as Medmenham Abbey. Dashwood actually set about reconstructing the site, but since he had a flair for the dramatic, he asked that it still resemble a creepy old ruin. But he did install a few upgrades:

A series of stained glass windows depicting the club members in, quote, “indecent poses.”

A brilliant pornographic fresco that John Wilkes, who wasn’t known to shy away from vulgarity himself, described as, quote, “unspeakable.”

And an expansive library stocked with classical literature as well as, quote, “the finest collection of pornographic books in Great Britain.”

PAUL: So to help us get more immersed in what went down at a club meeting, I’ve provided for all of you the proper tools.

[everyone looks under the table and takes out boxes. In the boxes are black robes, 1700s-style hats, some with feathers sticking out, and Venetian masquerade masks that are black and a different color. Vinnie has black and gold, Gene has black and red, Paul has black and purple, Eric has black and orange, and Tommy has black and blue]

GENE: [as they’re all putting on their costumes] Man, you really went all out, didn’t you?

PAUL: Oh, just wait.

ERIC: I will say, I do feel more immersed in the experience now.

TOMMY: This is pretty awesome.

PAUL: Okay, now that we’re all dressed up, let’s get into the juicy stuff!

VINNIE: [looks incredibly excited] I can’t wait.

GENE: [laughs] You look so excited.

VINNIE: Because I am. [bangs rhythmically on the table] Get to the juicy stuff, Paulie!

[screen cuts to a title card:

CHAPTER III

THE DEBAUCHERY BEGINS

slow, tense music plays and animations show events as Paul narrates]

PAUL [voiceover]: In the cover of night, the hooded monks and their dates would arrive to the island on a red gondola. Stepping ashore, they were greeted by the far-off drone of the abbey’s organ and the ringing of a ghostly church bell. Outside the abbey, they’d come upon an ominous statue of Harpocrates, the Egyptian god of silence. [a statue of Harpocrates is shown with a finger over his lips, and a voice that sounds like Paul’s whispers “Shhhhhhut the fuck uuuup…”]

Once inside the abbey, Dashwood would pour his guests a special cocktail of brandy and brimstone, and they’d all raise their glasses in a toast to the powers of darkness.

VINNIE: This sounds fucking a-ma-zing! I love theme parties, and this is just, just fucking amazing. I wouldn’t stay for the sex, though.

GENE: You’d just be there for the theme part?

VINNIE: Yeah, I’d do all this, then when they start doin’ it, I’d just duck out.

PAUL: Also, before we continue, I was actually able to, to make this more immersive… [reaches under the table and pulls out a bottle of wine]

VINNIE: Ooooh, nice!

TOMMY: Is it the brandy and brimstone cocktail?

PAUL: [laughs] Heh, no, it’s not, it’s just wine. I also have… [reaches under the table and pulls out five silver ornate goblets] these babies! [passes them out]

ERIC: [looks over his in fascination] Wow, these are awesome! Where’d you get these?

PAUL: [laughs] The Wizarding World of Harry Potter. [Eric laughs]

GENE: Oh yeah, you took Erin there for her birthday a while ago.

PAUL: Yep, and I got these. [they all pour wine into their goblets and raise them in a toast] To Ben Franklin and the Hellfire Club!

PAUL [voiceover]: With the striking of a gong, the monks would move further into the abbey and file into the chapel. Here, it is suspected they practiced a black mass, in which a woman laid naked on the altar and the monks proceeded to drink sacrificial wine from her navel.

ERIC: We’re not doing that, are we?

PAUL: Oh no, we’re not doing that.

ERIC: Okay…

GENE: [laughs] Disappointed, Eric?

ERIC: No, I just—fuck you, man.

TOMMY: Would’ve been interesting.

PAUL [voiceover]: Now I should say, since I know you’re all wondering, it’s generally thought that the members weren’t actual Satanists, despite all these weird rituals. Some members actually found this aspect pretty boring. John Wilkes actually found the rituals so dull, that he once dressed up a baboon as a demon… bear with me… he locked it in a trunk, and he stowed it in the abbey. Then, when the members called upon Lord Satan to appear, Wilkes pulled a string to release the frightened animal. For a moment, the members stared in disbelief…

… And then they lost their minds.

[music grows chaotic as the animation shows the baboon leaping over terrified figures while screams are heard] The terrified baboon leapt onto Lord Sandwich—yes, that Lord Sandwich, the guy who invented the sandwich—causing him to allegedly shout, “Spare me, gracious devil! I never knew that you’d really come or I’d never have invoked thee!”

[cuts back to the panel, all of them laughing]

VINNIE: I love how, even among this weird society, there was that one guy who was like, “This society is dull!”

PAUL: Also, after this happened, the baboon jumped out the window, and they weren’t able to catch it.

GENE: [laughing] That’s hilarious.

ERIC: [laughs and waves] Bye, suckers!

TOMMY: Bye, Felicia!

PAUL [voiceover]: As the alcohol continued to flow, the monks and their guests might share dirty stories, or read from the era’s more popular works of pornographic literature.

PAUL: I’ve provided you all with a piece of pornography. These are all from a piece published in 1740 called, “A Dialogue Between a Married Lady and a Maid.” So without further ado, [gestures to Vinnie for him to begin] Vinnie?

[dramatic piano music plays as Vinnie starts to read, looking like he wants to laugh]

VINNIE: “There is between the thighs, just at the bottom of the belly, a piece of flesh… Underneath, hangs in a bag, or purse, two little balls, pretty hard, and the harder the better. They call them stones, and in them is contained that white thick liquor.” [he wheezes, then bursts out laughing, joined by Tommy]

GENE: “He took hold of that place which distinguishes us from men. At the same time he cried out, ‘O! I have a maid! A virgin to my share!’”

VINNIE: I love that they seemed to not know the exact words. [laughs]

PAUL: Well, it was a different time. They were more prudish, I think.

VINNIE: True. I’ve seen some stuff online that’s pretty vulgar. There’s this one person online who likes pugs that writes some naughty, naughty stuff. [looks at the camera smirking] You know who you are. I see you.

ERIC: Okay, my turn. “His member was stiff and hard as a horn. Just as he had finished…” oh God, why? “… my mother, who had heard me shriek, came into the room.”

TOMMY: “‘What a happy girl you are!’ said she. ‘Pluck off this smock, which I will keep for a relick, since it is stained with thy virgin’s blood.’”

GENE: [to Vinnie] I feel like we got the lesser of the four passages.

VINNIE: I dunno…

ERIC: You did! Mine and Tommy’s were pretty explicit. You just got a playful description of balls!

VINNIE: Hey, that’s pretty tame compared to some of the smut that’s out there today.

GENE: Fifty Shades of Grey? [Paul frowns and glares at Gene as the rest of the panel silently stares at him] … What?

PAUL: How dare you. [Tommy laughs] How dare you bring that crap into my show. [cuts back to the animations]

PAUL [voiceover]: With bellies full of drinks and minds full of smut, guests would start to pair off and retreat to any of the private cells, which were prepared and stocked with the, quote, “proper objects for lascivious activities.”

[cut back to the panel. Eric is slumped over the desk]

PAUL: [looks over in slight amusement] You okay there, Eric?

ERIC: I just… I don’t even want to know what they got up to.

VINNIE: [grinning and trying not to laugh] It seems pretty obvious to me what they got up to.

ERIC: I don’t want to—

VINNIE: [still grinning] They got some of that dirty rhythm.

GENE: [also grinning] They indulged in some sweet pain.

ERIC: Gene, no—

TOMMY: [just assume everyone is grinning widely] They went for a rocket ride.

PAUL: They rocked hard all night.

GENE: Took each other down below.

ERIC: Guys, c’mon—

VINNIE: Got some tough love.

TOMMY: Pulled the triggers of their love guns.

PAUL: Put the X in—

ERIC: STOOOP!

PAUL [voiceover]: After operating in secret for many years, the details of the Hellfire Club at Medmenham Abbey were recounted in a popular novel in 1760. It captivated the public’s imagination, to the point that tourists would line the shores to try and spot the sex monks arriving. But, not wanting to give up his elaborate sex parties, Dashwood bounced back by having an elaborate system of caves dug on his own private property a few miles away from the abbey, and it was here that the monks of the Hellfire Club continued to have their parties in total privacy. This new location, and the fact that it was gated from the public and accessible only to club members, lends further plausibility to Ben Franklin’s participation. As he once wrote in a letter, “The exquisite sense of classical design, charmingly reproduced at West Wycombe, is as evident below the earth as above it.” Author Daniel Mannix argues that Franklin’s letter must be referring to the underground caves, and also adds that, quote, “Franklin would have been shortsighted if he hadn’t joined the club. He was a diplomat trying to help his country, and the club gave him the entrée to some of the most influential men in England.”

But as the guest lists for secret societies are kind of hard to figure out, we will never know for sure if Ben Franklin really did attend the Hellfire Club. But his documented friendship with Dashwood and his time spent at the estate puts it well within the realm of possibility. And, if you’re left wondering if a sex club fits with Franklin’s moral compass, then let’s take one last look at the man’s true character with some passages from an infamous piece penned by Franklin himself titled, “Advice to a Young Man on the Choice of a Mistress.” This is a letter in which Ben Franklin encourages his friend to go after older women. It was written in 1745, a copy of it sits in the Library of Congress, and it’s kind of gross.

PAUL: And here to read us the letter, through the magic of theatre… [he turns and gestures off camera] Mr. Benjamin Franklin!

[the panel applauds and whoops, then they all start laughing as Ace walks in with a chair, dressed in 1700s style clothing with a wig that is long grey hair sewn to a bald patch, but we can still clearly see his real hair underneath. A text box appears on him as he sits down between Paul and Eric:

NOT A LICENSED BEN FRANKLIN IMPERSONATOR]

ACE/BEN: Tis I, Benjamin Franklin! Who by some extraordinary means, has come to a strange future time!

VINNIE: [has a hand over his mouth while he’s laughing] This is amazing.

PAUL: So, Ben, we’ve learned a lot about you and some possible details concerning your personal life.

ACE/BEN: Okay.

PAUL: But we still have a few questions. Guys?

VINNIE: Why did you enjoy the company of older women?

ACE/BEN: [reads from his paper] “Because as they have more knowledge of the world and their minds are better stor’d with observations, their conversation is more improving, and more lastingly agreeable.” Wouldn’t you say?

VINNIE: [shrugs and nods] Yeah, I guess.

GENE: Wasn’t he like, 70 years old when he wrote this later? How is he so young right now?

ACE/BEN: “Because the sin is less—”

PAUL: No, wait—

ERIC: [bursts out laughing]

PAUL: You have to ask him. He’s—He’s an old man.

ACE/BEN: I’m old.

GENE: Ben?

ACE/BEN: Go ahead, son.

GENE: Why do you prefer the company of older women?

ACE/BEN: “Because the sin is less,” my dear boy. “The debauching a virgin may be her ruin, and make her for life unhappy.”

ERIC: Huh.

GENE: Deep.

TOMMY: Do you have any more reasons?

ACE/BEN: Uh, yeah. [takes out another sheet of paper while Tommy and Eric silently laugh] “Because in every animal that walks upright, the deficiency of the fluids that fill the muscles appears first in the highest part. The face first grows lank and wrinkled; [cut to the left side: Gene is doubled over silently laughing while Vinnie is listening thoughtfully] then the neck; then the breast and arms; the lower parts continuing to the last as plump as ever. So that covering all above with a basket, and regarding only what is below the girdle, it is impossible of two women to know an old from a young one.”

PAUL: So… you’re saying, when you put a basket over their heads…

ACE/BEN: Yeah. I don’t know. [panel bursts out laughing]

VINNIE: You don’t know?! You wrote it!

ACE/BEN: History will tell. History will tell.

PAUL: I, uh, I think history has told. Do you have any final thoughts?

VINNIE: It was a different time, maybe stuff happened that you couldn’t do nowadays.

TOMMY: He got pretty freaky.

ERIC: I mean, it would be a pretty cool movie, but I wouldn’t really want to hang out with him.

PAUL [voiceover]: Well, there you have it, people! Ben Franklin; a surprisingly multi-faceted individual. History: it’s never that boring if you know where to look. That’s been Ruining History. Thanks for learning with us!

[niksixx]

Later in the Night

Requested: By a lovely Anon

Pairing: The Dirt! Vince Neil x Reader

Description: Reader is the singer of a band at a festival where Crüe is playing and Vince doesn’t know who she is and he tries to put the moves on her thinking she’s a groupie, but then he finds out who she is and it makes him want her more and then they see each other at the after party and things lead to smut

Warning: Smut

*Picture is NOT mine. Found on Google. Credit to the owner.*

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Playing at the Lyric Festival in Los Angeles was a dream come true for you. Ever since you were a little girl, you wanted to form your own band, write songs, and tour the world. Throughout your childhood, you learned how to sing, dance, play guitar, piano, and violin. During college, you formed a band with three of your best friends, playing small gigs on the weekend. Now, on a gorgeous summer day in July, you and your band were getting ready to take the stage in front of five thousand people.

You noticed a man staring at you a few feet away from the stage, with wavy blonde hair and deep blue eyes wandering all over your body. You weren’t sure why he was staring at you either. It’s not like your clothing choice was impressive. It was just a simple blue tube top dress.

The man stepped toward you and you welcomed the attention without letting him get too close. “I see you looking at me so I thought I’d introduce myself,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m Vince Neil.”

“Y/N,” You smiled, shaking his hand.

“You should probably remember my name though,” Vince said, his voice hot on your ear. “You’ll be screaming it later.”

Stepping back, you scrunched up your face, making sure you put enough distance between you and Vince. “Excuse me?”

“Doll, what are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be backstage?” Vince asked, nodding his head. “I think Tommy could use some action. He hasn’t gotten laid in a week. Come to think of it, I haven’t either.”

Disgusted, you pulled your hand back and slapped Vince across the face, stunning him and yourself. “You piece of shit, I am not a groupie. I’m the lead fucking singer of a band.”

Rubbing his cheek, Vince bit his lip. “No kidding, really? I’m actually going on stage in a bit. I’m the lead singer of Mötley Crüe.”

Grunting, you turned on your heel and headed backstage to find the rest of your bandmates, eager to get the thought of Vince Neil out of your head before you played your set.

~~~

The crowd loved you. They loved the music and the way you interacted with them while you sang, never missing a beat. The thrill of jumping around on stage and projecting your lyrics for everyone to hear was indescribable. Even some audience members had caught on quickly to the words of your songs and were singing them back to you.

After the festival, many of the bands that had performed ended up in club that the Lyric Festival had rented out for the night. And you had to admit, you did enjoy watching Vince and his bandmates perform on stage. His voice was unlike any you’d ever heard, and he would occasionally wink in your direction if he noticed you bobbing your head along to the music.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to party, but after being out in the LA sun for hours, you were tired and just wanted to go home and sleep. But because your bandmates wanted to go and converse with other bands, you let them drag you to the club for a few drinks.

~~~

You were working on your fourth Lemon Drop shot when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Your vision was blurring from all the alcohol you had consumed in the course of an hour you had to squint at the man next to you, and then scowled when you realized who it was.

“If you came here for a blowjob, fuck off.” After downing the shot you turned back to Vince, whose eyebrows were pulled together.

“I actually wanted to apologize,” he began, taking the empty seat next to you. He ordered a beer for himself and another shot for you which you gladly accepted. You wouldn’t turn down apology shots, even if Vince had been a dirtbag. “I know it’s not an excuse but I was a little tipsy earlier and I just assumed by the way you were dressed…” He trailed off, taking a sip of beer. “Which was a dumbass thing to do too. I’m sorry, Y/N. Maybe I could buy you another drink and we could start over?”

You considered your options. You could either grab your bandmates and leave now, or stay and have a few drinks with Vince. Even if he had been a dick, you could tell his apology was sincere, so you opted to stay for a little while longer.

~~~

How you made it back to Vince’s apartment you’ll never know, but the only thing you cared about was having Vince fuck you into the next morning. After you chose to stay at the club with Vince, you managed to hit it off. Besides being extraordinarily handsome, Vince was charming, funny, and honest. He told you how his own band was formed and he even offered you bits of advice on how to make it big in the music industry.

You weren’t much of a charmer yourself, but the alcohol gave you enough courage to try and flirt with Vince and to your surprise, he flirted back with you. After awhile you had gotten bored of the flirting and wanted some action, and with your permission, Vince brought you back to his room.

His lips molded with yours as your hands tangled and pulled his hair roughly. Clothes were thrown in various directions, and once Vince had your naked body pinned against the bed, you knew it was game over.

He worshipped your body like no man had done before. Touching, licking, sucking all of the spots that made you squirm. Vince was experienced and knew what he was doing, and it was only a matter of time before he’d give you a mind-blowing orgasm you’d remember for years.

He teased you with his fingers as his free hand stroked his cock. You watched in awe at how focused he was, lips parted with short, inaudible breaths. His fingers rubbed agonizingly slow circles on your clit, enjoying the sight of you writhing beneath him. He pushed one finger in, then two, curling them inside your heat before adding a third digit, stretching your core to its full potential. You were a moaning mess under the touch of his hand, but your moans turned into groans as his cock filled you to the brim.

“Fuck, you feel amazing babe,” Vince dropped his head to yours, foreheads touching slightly as he continued bucking his hips vigorously. Your hands skimmed over the back of his shoulders, lightly digging into the slick flesh. Your mouths connected again in a heated kiss, tongues dancing and fighting eagerly.

Vince used a finger to rub your clit as he fucked you, waves of pleasure crashing over your body. Keeping quiet wasn’t an option. You let your moans be heard, and Vince smirked triumphantly, knowing he was the reason you were in complete bliss.

When his thrusts became quick and choppy, you wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into his lower back. Vince spilled inside you with a guttural groan but continued his pace, urging you to your release. You came with a scream, your juices coating his throbbing cock.

Vince collapsed on top of you, careful not to press his full weight on your body. You stared at each other quietly, drinking in the sight. He smiled at you and kissed your nose, but you wanted more. Pulling his neck, you brushed your swollen lips against his. You probably wouldn’t see Vince again after tonight, so you tugged him close and kissed him some more, hoping there would be a round two later in the night.