#William price is the best

[bethanydelleman]

But manner Fanny did not want. Would they but love her, she should be satisfied. Ch 38

Fanny: I just want my family to love me, and since I’m their sister and daughter, I feel like I’ve set a reasonably low bar.

Every member of the Price family except Susan (and William):

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price as Frederick Loren

The House On Haunted Hill (1959) dir. William Castle

[rainboq]

This might be a long one. Assuming that William doesn't die, and Chloe doesn't end up quadriplegic, how does he handle her introducing different people (i.e. Max, Kate, Rachel, Steph, Alex and/or Victoria) as her girlfriend(s)? Obviously he's going to at least be accepting, hence I'm largely wondering how the relationship between him and each possible girlfriend might play out.

Max is by far the easiest, assuming she doesn't move. Max and Chloe aren't sure when they make the shift over from best friends to girlfriends, it's a subtle thing. Their late night games of truth or dare start including little practice kisses that stop being so little or about practice. Their hand holding starts getting more intense. Their cuddling up to watch a movie starts involving a lot more body contact. William watches all of it with a knowing smile and gentle encouragements as both girls come to him, freaked out about their shifting feelings for each other. He probably even brings up the topic of asking Max out on an official date, which freaks Chloe out because 'oh my god I'm crushing on Max, what if I mess this up???' That summer he takes both girls to pride with a 'free hugs from a dad' shirt. It's probably not even the first pride he's been too, I can see him being active helping the community back in his youth because he couldn't stand idly by during the AIDS crisis.

If Max leaves, it's more complicated, but he absolutely encourages Chloe to work up to telling Max her feelings and makes sure that they have plenty of visits together with lots of alone time to work it out.

Kate's an interesting one. Chloe's originally pretty dismissive of her, after all, she's got no use for religion while she's busy throwing herself into science. She's not necessarily an angry atheist type, but she's at the very least agnostic. But Kate's nice to her, she's on a scholarship like Chloe, and she's soft spoken, so all their interactions are positive even if they have nothing to talk about. That all changes when she sees Kate getting bullied. Chloe cannot abide a bully, so she stands up for this girl she barely knows. First she trades blows with her tongue, and then her fists. Chloe wins it, but she's got her fair share of bruises. When William arrives at the office to have a chit chat with Wells and take Chloe home for the day, he finds this mousey little girl sitting outside of the office, wailing about how it's all her fault. He gets the story from her first, and he couldn't be prouder of his daughter. He takes them both out for ice cream, and Kate spends the entire time fussing over Chloe's bruises, which has Chloe grinning like an idiot while blushing and fidgeting from the attention. He encourages Chloe to invite this sweet girl over, but it's not really needed. It's how impossible to miss how blushy they get around each other, and he pretty immediately tells Kate that no matter what, she's got a safe place in their home. Unlike with Max, Chloe's more sure of her sexuality this time around, maybe she's already been to her first pride with her proud poppa, but that cross around Kate's neck still freaks her out a bit, until Kate makes the first move. Maybe it's a stolen kiss behind the bleachers, or she wins a bet over a video game and claims her prize of Chloe's lips, but either way it blindsides Chloe and they fall hard. William tries to help them keep things secret and safe, but Kate's parents eventually learn and when all hell breaks loose, he keeps his word. (Shit, this is a fun premise, I might write this)

William adores Steph from the moment Chloe tells him about her, and he digs out his old DM screen and source books. Steph is amazed that she gets to play such an old edition, and not only that, she doesn't have to run the campaign! It's kind of an open secret between all of them what's going on between them, even if Chloe keeps tripping over herself, and Steph is just as much of a disaster. Instead their player characters start getting romantic toward each other, and William goes out of his way to give them all the setup they could ever want to make it happen. It's not a surprise when Chloe finally tells him that they're dating, but it's still a celebration. He ends up taking Chloe and Steph to pride with Steph's uncle, and they have a gay old time.

Rachel is more difficult. Without Chloe's reputation for skipping class and getting fucked up, she's not going to really take note of her like she did in canon. Sure, Chloe's pretty, clever, and fun, but she's not exactly plugged into the Blackwell social scene or on Rachel's radar. Maybe she pings Rachel's gaydar while she's looking to experiment. Maybe Rachel reaches out for a little extra help with chemistry homework. Or maybe some silly shenanigans happen that put Chloe and Rachel stuck in close proximity, perhaps spin the bottle leading to seven minutes in heaven? However it happens, William is wary of Rachel. He knows her type, and he sees how she's wrapping Chloe around her finger, but he also understands that Chloe needs to make her own choices and mistakes. He's also emotionally available to Rachel in a way that she's not expecting or used to, hoping that he can help her grow as a person and stop trying to wear a mask all the time. Either way he's there for Chloe every step of the way, regardless if it works out or not, and with Chloe having a more solid emotional footing, maybe it goes very differently for both of them.

Victoria is... well he's he's definitely surprised when he walks in on Chloe half dressed and furiously making out with a girl that she's repeatedly complained about at great volume for being a bully. After stammered excuses, a lot of blushing and a generous helping of swearing, both girls get dressed again and William gets to talking with them. He explains that he's not mad, but he's definitely confused, and maybe a little disappointed in Chloe for going down this route, even if he understands it a little bit. Neither girl has a great answer for how this happened at all, a tutoring session that escalated maybe? What really surprises Victoria is that he doesn't kick her out, instead not only does William take the time to ask, he actually listens. She can't believe it at first, but even a few hours with him has her realizing how alike father and daughter are. Eventually Victoria's own dorkiness starts coming out and she starts getting into long debates with Chloe over the merits of this or that anime, they cuddle up and watch classic movies together, she writes poems about Chloe, which is when William starts to really get it. The true game changer is when Victoria's having a really tough time, and not really knowing what to do, she goes to William about it, and he actually listens to her. That gets her bawling, and before long she's blubbering out all the weight of the expectations her parents have heaped onto her slim shoulders. William helps her through that in ways not therapist ever could, and Victoria starts finding the emotional strength to be her own person again, instead of the perfect bitchy princess her parents have been trying to shape her into.

Dana is just fun. He gives Chloe a high five for getting a date with a cheerleader, and her love of Halloween and classic movies means she fits right in with the Prices to the point Joyce rolls her eyes and makes a comment about 'there's three of you now'. William absolutely digs out photos of Chloe's old costumes to show Dana, much to Chloe's embarrassment, but her protests die away as Dana squeals about how cute she was. They end up doing an ensemble costume for every Halloween until Chloe and Dana are off at college.

Alex is going to be something that happens later in life. Chloe's been off on her own for a while, been through college, maybe even has her masters. Chloe stays in touch with her dad pretty regularly, at least weekly phone/video calls and visits for the holidays and she comes to him for advice on a lot of topics. He first hears about Alex on one of these calls, maybe she's a mysterious stranger that Chloe is helping out, or a traveling musician that she's hit it off with. Then come the pictures, and oh wow she's cute! Chloe's all blushes and excited babbling about her, how funny and smart she is, and links to her soundcloud while raving about her music. Chloe tries to coax Alex onto a call, but she's really shy about meeting anyone when she can't see their aura. Finally the holidays arrive, and he meets Alex, who is a giant bundle of nerves in a denim jacket. William is his usual gentle, gregarious self and Alex wonders how she was ever surprised that William is as genuine as his daughter. It doesn't take long for William to start becoming a father figure in her life, even if the -in-law bit might take a long while. That title is very much a formality as he takes her, and Gabe, under his wing, being every bit the father that John failed to be. She honestly has a few good, long cries over it. He also spoils the shit out of Ethan and gets stoned with Char, so that's fun.

If Chloe ever brings Cassidy home, he makes her take a fucking shower and then pulls out his own guitar.

[dicksoutformtl]

Calling the metalocalypse fandom creators of all kinds!

So I haven’t been super active in the fandom but that doesn’t mean these meathead don’t have a special place in my heart.

I want to start creating for this fandom again, who’s been so sweet & kind to me from the get go, i have a big project in mind & I would like to ask the help of other creators to make it possible. with payment of course c:

The project in mind:

You know those old subscription boxes where you can get all kinds of merch like art prints, key chains, & so much more? I’d like to try & do something like that but themed to the character.

For example: A Nathan Explosion box would include hopefully things like art prints/ other merch, a plush Nathan doll, & other things that may be associated with Nathan ( I would ask for the fandoms opinions on this one also )

If this also has enough traction you could also mix match merch instead of having one box that’s only one character you can opt for maybe Charles/Nathan themed merch.

I also wouldn’t mind hearing others ideas btw, i just think this would be an interesting & fun thing for us all to work together on. At least if anyone’s interest in it c:

If not that’s completely ok! I will still be making Metalocalypse plush dolls in the near future, so keep your eyes peeled for that

Sorry this isn’t super neat looking I wasn’t sure how to pitch this idea lol but if you wanna know more feel free to dm me or leave a comment & ask questions 💘💘💘

( forgot to add sorry aa: it will be a little while until this is up & running, i have a few other things to focus on & I need save money so I can pay those who may want to participate :3c )

[twistedtummies2]

The Price May Be Right - Number 3

Welcome to “The Price May Be Right!” I’ve been counting down My Top 31 Favorite Vincent Price Performances & Appearances! The countdown will cover movies, TV productions, and many more forms of media. We’ve entered the Top 3 of this countdown! Today we focus on Number 3: ZigZag, from The Thief and the Cobbler.

This movie has a history like you wouldn’t believe. I could jabber on for AGES about this “lost epic” of animation, but I’m going to try and keep the context as succinct as possible. “The Thief and the Cobbler” – which underwent NUMEROUS title changes throughout its extensive creation – was the intended Magnum Opus of master animator Richard Williams, the man most well-known today for being head of animation on “Who Framed Roger Rabbit?” Williams wanted to create a comedic, surreal film – inspired by the legends of the Arabian Nights – that would be the absolute pinnacle of animation at the time. Production started as early as 1964…but no complete version of the film was released until the early 1990s, with the last one being in 1993 (released a month after Price’s death, technically and posthumously making this his final film role). So, what happened between 1964 and 1993? Well, the short version of it can be summed up like this: Williams kept changing his mind on the project’s story, and the funding for the film kept changing from backer to backer. Animators came and went as the characters and plot shifted with the decades. Finally, Williams finalized the story and got support from Warner Bros., who delivered a simple ultimatum: Williams had to finish the project on time and on budget, or they would remove him from his own film and get someone else to finish it. Wouldn’t you know it, that’s exactly what ended up happening: unable to meet the deadline, Williams was fired from his own movie, and producer Fred Calvert turned to the Completion Bond Company to get the movie made. Two completely different “finished” versions of the film were released; neither was received very well by critics, and both failed at the box office. Williams would forever consider the fate of his intended masterpiece the greatest embarrassment of his entire career. There are now no less than four versions of the movie available for viewing. There are the two versions released by Calvert and the CBP, the original unfinished workprint by Williams…and a fan-made project called “The Recobbled Cut,” which attempts to give the film the closest thing to its intended release possible by blending elements of all three together. The Recobbled Cut, itself, has gone through several editions over the years, and is still a work in progress, much like the movie it aspires to breathe pure life into. The film has become something of a legend in animation circles, for a LOT of reasons…but we’re not here to discuss the movie in totality. I’ve rambled about its history long enough; we’re here to talk about Vincent Price. So where does he come into the picture? Well, back when the movie was first getting started in 1964, Price was in his heyday. As it turned out, Williams was a big fan of Price’s work, and he contacted Price to see if he’d be interested. Vincent thought the movie sounded like an interesting endeavor, so he agreed, and his antagonist – first named “Anwar,” then later renamed “ZigZag” - ended up being the first character in the film cast. As the years went on, and the film’s plans changed, Price – who remained devoted to the project – would return periodically to re-record new lines. Apparently, it became one of his favorite projects, and Richard Williams and his team all agreed that ZigZag was their favorite character to animate. What’s interesting is that, with the different versions of the film later released, every character in the movie was recast over the years, with multiple performers playing the roles in different releases. For example, one of the two titular protagonists – Tack the Cobbler – was played by an unknown actor (doing an impression of Sean Connery) in the workprint, Sean Lively in one of the two Calvert cuts, and Matthew Broderick in the 1993 release. The one exception to this rule was Vincent as ZigZag: every version of the movie very wisely kept Vincent’s voice for the character, and it’s a good thing they did. Because while every version of the film has its pros and cons, ZigZag is consistently the best character in every version. The villain is not an especially complex character; he’s essentially Proto-Jafar (very literally, since some of the people who worked on Aladdin also worked on the Thief at earlier points in their career). Like Jafar, ZigZag is an evil magician and corrupt vizier, who seeks to marry the resident princess and take the throne. But it’s Price’s voice that makes the character so great to listen to, and the animation is always glorious to behold in action. One of the odd things about ZigZag is that nearly every single one of his lines are spoken in rhyme. There doesn’t seem to be any REASON for this, but I’m not complaining: I could listen to Vincent Price speaking in rhyme all day and be quite happy. No matter what version you watch of this movie, Price delivers every single time. Tomorrow, I present my penultimate pick, with my 2nd Favorite Vincent Price Performance!

[ask-the-virtual-council]

Is anyone else just really starting to get annoyed with the Mimic?

Just me?

Hm?

Okay.

[mariocki]

The Web (1947)

"Isn't there some way we can get together on this?"

"Oh, sure. You confess and I'll arrest you."

[patchodraws]

share a headcanon with the class please

uhhhhh headcanon here we go

eventually, when max and chloe settle down, they decide for kids. chloe's more than ecstatic to be a mom, so it's kinda like asking if they can get a puppy (they already have two cats, bongo 2 electric boogaloo aka bongaloo and thief aka turdface), and while max initially doubts her ability to be a good parent, it's the idea that with chloe anything's really possible that gets her to agree.

they decide to go with adoption first since chloe's a softie, and their first kid they decide to name william. two years later, they decide to have another and this time chloe wants to carry the child, who they end up naming amber (chloe said they could never name a girl joyce, not because she doesn't love her mom but because joyce is such an old lady name)

anyways, they're fucking phenomenal parents. chloe is so playful and energetic with the kids, always encouraging their imaginations and getting into shenanigans with them to create fond presents and pasts. in truth, chloe's kinda panicking every day hoping that she's a good parent since she has so much to live up to (her own dad) and so much to make up for (the shitty parenting she got from david), but when max shows her a photo she took of the three of them doing dishes together with william playing with the bubbles and everyone smiling, chloe's fears vanish

[crispyeagleenthusiast]

WILLIAMS FURNACE P323011 - Valve | HNKParts

[ruleofheart]

growing pains — ellie williams

ellie williams x f reader

7k

fluff, angst, smut >O<

ellie if nothing bad happened to her ever, childhood friends to acquaintances(?) to lovers, longing, joel is involved, ellie is a DWEEB! but so are you, car sex, classic misunderstandings

to the lovely folks that asked to be tagged, i hope this meets your expectations… i am terrified of failing you: @macaroni676 @d3sperationn @g3latin

beta read by @heartofrhea my best friend my apologies for being cringelord

The universe can be so cruel. 

You sit at the edge of the curb, curling your legs to yourself to feel less vulnerable. Your phone rolls in your hand, tears of frustration prickling at your eyes. You probably should’ve known better. Well— you do know better. That sinking, intuitive feeling had been swirling in the center of your stomach all night, but you had let your desperation and loneliness take ahold of you. 

You had agreed to go out with some friends and some friends of friends; people you didn’t know jackshit about, but hung out with anyway. You had hoped you didn’t reek of seclusion too bad, feeling like a wounded animal in a crowd of predators. 

But your friends and their friends didn’t really care. They had pulled away from you in the club, losing you to flashing lights and crowded bodies. You searched up and down, called their names in the dingy bathrooms, and even asked the bartender. No dice; you were here to party alone. Now what was the point of even coming along?

Silly.

You initially opted to order an Uber to just get the fuck off the street already, but hey— it’s a Friday night and finals are over. The prices listed cost more than six different coffee runs, and there’s no way you’d be giving those up. 

It’s how you end up sitting on the curb and fervently wiping your tears away, cringing when you remember your hands had been touching all the club door handles and god knows what else. You feel dirty, forgotten. 

You unlock your phone and dim the brightness— the stupid thing almost all out of battery— and turn to what seems to be a last resort, an option that you’ve buried away at the back of your mind for years now.

Pressing your phone to your ear, you can’t help but sigh as the line rings repeatedly, almost positive that you’re completely out of luck. 

It falls silent for a second before there’s faint rustling on the other side, and a voice so familiar, so painful to hear, questions you softly. 

“Ellie,” you say breathlessly; from fatigue or relief, you’re not sure anymore. “Can you come get me?” 

Becoming friends with Ellie Williams was almost too easy. 

That’s just how she is as a person. So easy to be around; her voice and twinkling laugh showing no threat. 

It began with Mrs. Sullivan’s freshman class seating chart; a table of four with you, Ellie, and two other boys who were too preoccupied with copying off each other’s notes half the time for you to even remember their names. You mostly kept to yourself as a weird adolescent, the onslaught of teenage hormones and emotions forcing you into your own little world. 

Ellie, on the other hand, was different. She had noticed the front page cover of Savage Starlight slipped into the front sleeve of your binder, the edges frayed and jagged as if you had actually ripped it off. She was almost offended at the sight of such a careless pull, but found the emotion wavering once she realized you read the comics just like her. 

“Hey! No way!” she had exclaimed with a growing smile, her eyes lit up. She had half a mind to just reach over and take your binder, fingers skimming over the glossy cover. She stopped herself mid-way, mind racing before she asked with just as much glee, “Can I see? I don’t think I’ve been able to get ahold of that edition yet.” 

Your short-lived conversations about Savage Starlight began to transform into lunchroom giggle sessions and bike rides on the way home. She was so easy to fall into; it was almost like she had a part of herself that was reserved just for you, eager for your arrival.

The thing about your dynamic was that it was so intricately woven over time, each thread of yourself intertwining with her own as you came to know each other better. Unabashed adoration and excitement with every laugh, with every moment of eye contact across the classroom and dinner table at home: a twinkle of unwavering youth and closeness.

And the thing was, when it came to you, Ellie was not prideful at all. She would openly admit any given moment that there had to be a hole in her heart that was in the shape of you. The two of you fit so nicely in each other’s lives, slipping into a familiar rhythm that almost seemed karmic, even at such a young age. While you were surrounded by other girls your age navigating their own pent up emotions and typical coming-of-age realizations, turning against each other and whispering dirty secrets, Ellie only seemed to cling onto you— hanging onto your every word with sincerity and trust.

It didn’t take long before Ellie began to invite you over to sleepovers, which was new territory for both her and Joel. He was already a little awkward as-is, navigating life with a teenage girl who had the same foul mouth and temperament as he.

So when you came around, greeting him with little smiles and kind language, he couldn’t help but feel his heart sway in relief, happy that Ellie has someone like you in her life. 

You’d tumble off your bikes, leaving them strewn across the front yard, crushing the grass he labored so hard over. But he didn’t mind, relieved to see the two of you arrive in one piece, losing yourself in video game releases and comic book pages as you both sat in her bedroom. 

Joel became a sort of fly on the wall for you two, ever-present as you were fairly comfortable in their home. Tuning the both of you in and out, listening closely for anything that may alarm him (which, never happened). Sitting across the both of you at the dinner table, serving up a quick and easy bowl of Hamburger Helper to you two. He’d glance at the two of you from under his eyelashes, watching how either you or Ellie would lean into each other as you splayed out homework sheets on the table, muttering to each other in curiosity. The two of you may have been better off sharing a single chair, he’d think to himself in amusement. 

Again, your presence in Ellie’s life and in his home never worried him. It became routine for him as well, watching the two of you bike up the block together almost every day after school. 

One hot summer afternoon, he stood on the porch, prying off the entrance screen door in an attempt to replace it, the critters from the greenbelt nearby winning at their efforts to nibble away at the material. 

From afar, he could hear the growing sound of your chattering, your bike chains clicking repeatedly as you breezed down the sidewalk. He glanced over his shoulder, watching as you two fought amicably, reaching out to each other in a playful attempt to push the other off their bike. He chuckled to himself and turned his gaze back to the screen door, fingers prying at the edges. 

Behind him, Ellie reached a little too far to the side, fingers brushing against your arm before she toppled over sideways off her bike. She collapsed with a laugh-yelp, swearing at you in a way that made you burst out laughing, your shoes dragging across the concrete to stop your bike. 

You hopped off your seat, carelessly letting it fall to the side as you approached Ellie, laughing at her as she pushed herself off the ground. 

“You idiot,” you breathed out in between laughs, nearly folding in on yourself as the incident repeated in your mind. 

“Dude!” she scolded lightheartedly, trying to feign annoyance, and of course failing. She stuck out her arm to show you a deep scrape right above her elbow. “This shit burns.” 

You caught your breath and stepped closer, eyeing the scrape. It was rather gnarly, and you inwardly winced at yourself knowing it was probably going to scab horribly.

“Damn,” you muttered to yourself, holding her arm and twisting it to get a better look. Joel eyed the way you two interacted, pulling away from his task as he glimpsed the bloody splotch on Ellie’s elbow. 

From where he was, he couldn’t exactly make out the words that you two exchanged, your voices lowered significantly. From the look of it, you were offering an apology. He didn’t catch the way you smiled up at her apologetically, but he was positive that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him when you leaned in and placed a harmless, healing kiss onto her arm, right above the scrape.

It was, in reality, lighthearted and childish. A testament to your playfulness, your eagerness to please Ellie’s heart. 

And although Ellie didn’t realize it, there was a flicker of emotion that crossed her face. A change in her eyes; in the way that she looked at you. It flew over your head, too; busy smiling up at her, pulling her closer with the strength of the sun’s gravity. 

But Joel noticed. He caught this sudden change, this glimmer on Ellie’s face. He felt the complexities of youth and new emotion washing over him again, a short chuckle leaving his lips as he turned away, focusing back on fixing the screen door. 

Later that night, he pulled Ellie aside. 

“Hey, kid. I’m gonna need you to keep the door open when she’s around, alright?”

“What?” Ellie asked, utterly oblivious. A look of distaste flittered across her features. 

He was trying to remain as nonchalant as possible, knowing all too well that if he pushed too hard or looked too stern, Ellie would just defy him out of her own stubborn nature. He folded some blankets over the couch, eyes avoiding hers. “Just keep it open, Ellie.” 

She groaned in annoyance and threw her head back, hands falling to her sides. She looked truly exasperated, confused with this sudden change in house rules. 

That night, as the door remained cracked open, Joel walked by Ellie’s bedroom to sort some towels in the hallway closet. His ears picked up her frustrated tone; “…wants me to leave the door open now. Never heard of a rule as stupid as that, but whatever.” 

You giggled calmly, then fell silent for a second. “It’s okay. My mom has that rule too, for my brother and his girlfriend.” 

And he could almost hear the way Ellie’s face scrunched up, a confused groan escaping her again. She failed to reply, and the topic at hand was dropped as soon as you leaned over to her and showed her a page from a new comic, rambling on about how the plot hole in this series was diabolical. 

He silently walked away, mind wandering as he tried to think about how to approach this blooming situation, a flicker of both hope and protection illuminating in his chest. 

It was junior year of high school when the foundation of your friendship began to split, allowing something else to slip into it. Something sneaky, deceitful, something that constantly rendered you speechless and warm. 

You no longer rode your bikes or shared comic books; you were much too old for that now! Ellie had just gotten her license, a little too eager to drive Joel’s old beat up truck around with you in the passenger seat. And, of course, the both of you felt like true teenagers when you finally got phones.

You sat on Ellie’s bed, your knees pulled to your chest as you scrolled through your timeline. You giggled at random collages of pictures and videos, occasionally showing your screen to Ellie in hopes that she would laugh with you. 

She sat on the other end of the bed, a rolled joint held delicately in her fingers. Joel wasn’t home, and her bedroom door was closed. The walls of her bedroom trapped the both of you with the smell of it, but you were slowly learning to not mind it as much. 

When you first received a phone, you found yourself diving into social media, trying to keep up with this sudden boom of a new language, new jokes, new form of communication. Ellie, on the other hand, never touched her phone. If she was using it, it was probably because she was texting you. She refused to engage with any social media at all, meaning you had to sit and explain new jokes and trends to her. Sometimes, she’d try her hand at new lingo or an ongoing joke, but failed so miserably each time that you’d roll over her bedsheets in laughter. 

She pressed the joint to her lips, eyes lazy as she looked at you with longing. The brightness from your screen illuminated your face, emphasizing every beauty mark and freckle. 

“Hey,” she started, voice low. “C’mere.” 

You looked up at her in curiosity, putting your phone down. Your eyes stayed trained on her as you scooted closer, the sides of your legs pressing against hers. 

She wasn’t sure if it was the smoke or the way that you peered up at her that made the center of her body feel warm. She tilted her head away from you as she exhaled, the smoke clouding the space between you two; your heart thundered in your chest. 

“Almost done,” she promised, voice only a little raspy. “Missed you; that thing is hoarding all your attention.” The corners of her mouth twitched. 

“Is not!” you defended, shoving her shoulder with your own. “I’m right here.” 

“Yeah,” she began, her hand coming up to tap at your head playfully. “But you’re not here. Let’s do something; been wanting to play a few rounds of that old zombie game.”

It was how you end up pressed into each other’s sides, hollering and giggling at the tiny TV screen on her bedroom dresser. You played erratically, your fingers relying on nonsensical button smashing to survive. Ellie had to constantly revive you every five minutes, but never mentioned it. 

She missed the way you squealed in anticipation with every new round that started, your eyes wide as you spoke with a constant smile. And, maybe it was from her high, but she was a little too intent in the way that she watched you, her mind feeling far away as she memorized every crevice of your face from the side. 

“Ellie!” you scolded, bringing her out of her daze. “No way you already died, the round just started!” 

She turned her attention back to the screen, scoffing as her player screen was black and white, her character eye-level with the ground. 

“Damn,” she muttered, surprised that she let herself slack off for so long. Too lost in your side profile, the dip of your lips, the way your lashes fluttered in surprise when a zombie attacked you in-game. 

Your character raced towards her, shooting around sloppily before you pressed the buttons to revive her. Her hand found itself on the top of your thigh, right above your knee. Perhaps it was the fogginess of her mind, or a newfound boldness that spurts through her; but she squeezed at your leg, her eyes stuck on the screen. “Thanks,” she says a little too nonchalantly, like that was completely normal. 

You swallowed thickly, your own movements faltering. There was a red ring forming around your player screen, indicating that you were being ruthlessly attacked. 

She snickered, her voice playful. “Focus.” 

The two of you kept on, your mind instead slipping up and focusing a little too hard on the way she touched you. 

It was senior year when that particular, sneaky something begins to widen the cracks in your relationship. A feeling that blurred your vision, blurred your mind. A feeling that made it impossible to correctly decipher whatever it was that Ellie was going through, and the two of you began to fall apart. 

It mostly started when Ellie got a job at a skate shop. For the most part, it was relaxed, her days consisting of seeing the same people come and go for wheels and decks. But it meant that she had less time to spend with you. 

Initially, she would use every single day off to see you. To invite you over or to laze around on your fluffy duvet, listening to you ramble about your nervousness as graduation was approaching. She would take you out, spoil you rotten with the excitement of her new paychecks, saying fuck all to saving any money. 

And in reality, you didn’t care about the way she spoiled you; granted, it was nice and certainly made your heart beat a certain way, but you mostly valued that she made the effort to see you still. Exchanging silent words and looks across the classroom was no longer sufficing your yearning heart. 

Months passed and Ellie started to become a little bit more focused on balancing school and work; she was set on saving as college approaches, and you figured that the prospect of growing up had changed her. She was set on a college, set on astrophysics, set on buying Joel some land and maybe, hopefully, spoiling you some more in a few years down the line…

But she was maybe a little too caught up in it. She saw you less and less, accidentally channeling her friendly energy to her coworkers. And while you knew there was nothing wrong with that, you couldn’t help the bitter taste that rested on your tongue when she constantly brought up the names of others that you’d heard of countless times. A part of you wanted to turn to her, ask her so pathetically, why can’t you do the same with me?

You started to really feel like you were losing her when you finally got the chance to sit in her room again, the both of you babbling about what you think college will look like. At first, the comfort of her poster-covered walls and space trinkets settled your restless heart, and you had felt at home with her again. 

It wasn’t until she slipped away to use the restroom, leaving her phone on her bed. The screen illuminated as it buzzed once, twice— three times. You should’ve left it alone, thinking maybe it was Joel warning her he’d be late from work. But you leaned over anyway, reading over the text on the screen.

For one, it was a coworker. You recognized the name on the notification; and for some reason, when you realized it was from the only other girl at her workplace, a horrible feeling nestled into your stomach. 

And then you couldn’t help the minor feeling of betrayal as you realized they had been messaging each other on a social media platform; one of the many things Ellie swore up and down that she’d stay away from. 

You didn’t even follow her on there. She never told you. 

It’s silly, you thought. Ellie can do whatever she pleased. But this new turn of events, this tiny thing that was still so out of character; the foundation between you two felt almost completely severed. 

Weeks passed from that day and you them found yourself pulling away. The both of you were accepted into the same college, but you couldn’t even find it in yourself to feel excited. Ellie begged you to fill out your housing papers on time so that the two of you could be roommates, but you purposefully procrastinated. You weren’t sure you could handle such close proximity with her anymore. 

It was with this that the gap between the both of you widened. She didn’t drive you home anymore; it was time to put your own license to use. You two no longer exchanged knowing looks across the room, and you sure as hell didn’t share dinner with Joel anymore, either. You started to forget the exact layout of her bedroom. 

Graduation came and went; you spent it in solitude, not really counting the presence of your family members. Ellie did race up to you and gave you a bone crushing hug, nose burying into your hair, but you were so caught up in it all that you didn’t reciprocate it. 

It was another one of those minor things that widened the gap, made her step away from you both physically and emotionally. 

Even when Joel offhandedly mentioned that he’d be okay with helping you move into your dorm, Ellie made up some excuse on the fly; saying your brother had it covered. She hadn’t even asked you.

So, just like that, summer passed in a blink. You spent your days curled up in your bed, wallowing. Ellie spent it trying to distract herself, losing herself in the presence of coworkers-turned-close-friends. You shamefully stalked her social media, tears pricking at your eyes as she posted places and things that seem so fun, so far away. Places and things that you would’ve liked. 

What hurt more was the constant questioning from your family. Where’s Ellie? What’s she up to?

Hell if you knew. You’d been relying on her story highlights for snippets of her life, and even then they were still so vague. Scenery, music, her guitar. Someone else’s hands holding a deck of cards, videos with incessant giggling in the background. God, you were almost sickly with both wanting and loneliness. 

And, just like that, it was freshman year again. This time, there was no seating chart. No binder for you to slip comic book covers into. No comfort of hopping on your bike and riding home with the only person that matters at your side. 

You were in some sort of emotional purgatory. Your mind blank as you walked around campus, as you stared at your laptop screen in the dead of night, body aching as you slumped over and completed your coursework. The excitement and late nights that you and Ellie had planned were nowhere to be found. 

On the other hand, Ellie busied herself so much, she found that she almost forgot you. Almost. 

Burying herself into her homework, mind trying its hardest to wrap around these new concepts. Partying, though she wasn’t not really there. Smoking some, drinking some. It all still felt lonely. 

She was enjoying this new group of friends, but they didn’t amount to the certain someone that still had their shape, their initials carved into the center of her heart. It was almost unbearable to exist without you; the two of you blending into each other so well, she still found herself saying things the way you did— the intonation, the little lingo, the mannerisms. Your existence was embedded into her own, folding over into her psyche so compact-tight, she knew she could never escape you. 

Ellie assumed that now, at this point, it was about carrying you in her soul even though you were no longer around. The beauty of this life; she’d lost you, but not entirely. Your personality reflecting in her own no matter what, no matter how hard she tried. Her existence was a testament to your own— someone’s been here. Someone’s loved me. 

Weeks passed. Months passed. The both of you constantly shuffling across the same campus, yet never running into each other. Your text messages now buried underneath more recent threads, your shared playlist long forgotten and neglected. 

Winter break hit and the loneliness bit just as much as the cold. When Ellie returned home, she noticed her old bike in the garage, propped up against storage bins, the tires flat. When you returned home, you came back to photos of the both of you, pinned to your wall. Your breath stuttered in your throat as you took them down, throwing them into a box in your closet. 

At the same time, yet separately, the both of you traversed new grounds, and odd fucked up forms of grief. Being in your own space yet running into things that reminded you of someone that you wanted the most. And it wasn’t not like they were gone; yet the both of you let go, deciding that somehow, it was for the better. 

The cycle repeated as the seasons changed. Instead of actually moving on, the both of you just somehow got better at repressing your emotions and acting like nothing happened. Occasionally reflecting on your friendship in a daydream, and then reminding yourself that somehow, it just wasn’t meant to be. It was time to move on— she was never yours. 

It’s summer now, the end of junior year. Ellie’s at her friend’s place, sipping on a poorly made drink as they play card games and tune into a new season of a trending series. She’s cross-legged on the floor, smiling to herself as her friends talk over each other, slamming the cards down on the coffee table and trying to warp the rules in their own favor. It’s fun, and it’s easy to sit back and watch everything unfold. 

She feels her phone in her back pocket vibrating; assuming it’s Joel just checking up on her, she gets up and excuses herself, slipping out the back porch door. 

When she reaches for her phone, her heart nearly stops beating altogether. In fact, she’s sure it does, as her stomach suddenly twists in confusion and pain, a small cough leaving her lips as she tries to collect herself. Your name shines on her screen as you call, and she’s so sure she’s hallucinating (the hell was in that drink?) until she swallows her surprise and answers. 

And there you are. Breathless, exhausted. Immediately, she knows. Despite it being so long, despite the fact that she’s not entirely sure she knows you anymore, she still recognizes the tone in your voice, recognizes that you needed her. 

“Where are you?” she blurts before you can finish your sentence, her body automatically pacing around. “Send me the address.” 

You’re apologetic, sounding defeated on the other side. You tell her over and over again, I’m sorry.

There’s weight behind the way you say it, like you’re apologizing for something more. Like you’re counting all those times you shut her out, the times you let her slip through your fingers. It’s weak and shaky, but Ellie doesn’t bring it up. She’s too busy slipping on her shoes, keys dangling from her fingers as she mouths to her friends that she’ll see them later. 

She stays with you on the phone the entire time she drives over to get you. She asks, over and over again, if you’re okay and in a safe area, and your heart twists with guilt and shame. You stay planted on the edge of the curb, looking like a wilted flower.

Ellie feels her heart drop to her stomach as she approaches the street that you sit on, her headlights illuminating your pathetic figure. She rolls down the window and pulls over, calling out to you. 

Your eyes are low, the shame blatantly evident on your face. Ellie’s not sure how this will unfold; this isn’t exactly the way she dreamed the two of you would reunite. But that look on your face— Ellie knows it well enough. You’re both 15 again, and you’re trying to hide within your own body somehow. She sees the embarrassment, the bitter feeling that sits at the center of your chest. 

You approach her car and observe at her through the window, eyes avoiding her own. You study her form, how much she’s grown. She’s got a new haircut; it’s shorter— gayer. You can almost imagine yourself laughing at her, can almost imagine twirling the short pieces between your fingers. A patch of black ink catches your eye just then, your gaze landing on her forearm. Since when did she get a tattoo? 

She unlocks the door, silently beckoning you in. You slump into the passenger seat, completely defeated, and she reads your body language well enough to know not to pry at the situation. 

She shifts the car into drive but realizes that she doesn’t even know where you live anymore. The car sits there, idle as she tries to figure out what to ask you and how, then you mutter the directions to your apartment, reading her confusion just as well. 

The sound of Ellie’s music is quiet, practically just a gentle hum as the two of you sit, rigid as you keep your gazes locked on the road ahead. You don’t intend to explain yourself or have some sort of emotional come-to-jesus moment with Ellie, figuring that this situation alone is already stressful enough. 

But, she clears her throat and opens her mouth to speak, eyes still locked on the street signs. “You see the trailer for the new Savage Starlight adaptation?” 

You give her an awkward chuckle. “Yeah,” you say, nearly whispering. “Looked like trash, honestly.”

Ellie laughs at that. Laughs. And god, it’s not the kind of laugh that kills her, but it’s a solid one; an honest one. It sounds so good as it erupts from her chest, the sound of it pouring into your ears and over your heart. Christ. 

Your eyebrow twitches and you have to turn your head to look out the window— you can’t let her see the look on your face. You’re sure your eyes are wide and pooling with some sort of desperation. 

And, of course, Ellie catches it. But she just cares too much about you, so she lets all these little thing slip by to keep you comfortable, to keep you with her for even just a second longer. 

The conversation stays trained on little comments, acknowledging new video game releases and comic book trailers as if the both of you are in high school again, caught up in your nerdy obsessions. The air is thick and steady; the both of you dancing around this thinly-veiled attempt to be normal. The smallest things, such as the sound of her clearing her throat, or her hand coming up to scratch at her cheek, make your skin crawl with anticipation. 

You brace yourself for the ball to drop, holding it so tight to your chest, you’re almost suffocating. 

And while there’s no way you’ll drop this act, desperately clutching onto this feeling of faux normalcy, you know Ellie will. She’s much too blunt and forward focused to let you both sit in this awkward, paper-doll like scenario; steadily crafting your sentences, training your eyes to avoid her. 

And, god— it’s almost too easy to let your body relax, to slip back into your old comfortable patterns with Ellie right next to you. Because she’s never been prideful, and never will be, with the way she smiles to herself and breathes: “I missed you. It’s been… really long,” she says the last part with a bittersweet chuckle. “Too long.” 

Your chest caves. Stupidly, eagerly, almost like it wanted to, this whole time. Your body feels prickly and warm, but you school your face to remain somewhat neutral. 

“Yeah,” you offer dryly. “I’m kind of surprised, actually.” 

At that, Ellie tilts her head, fingers fluttering around the steering wheel. “How come?” 

“That, like, you even showed up. And you’re actually being nice and taking me home. I figured you kinda hated my guts towards the end.”

Ellie’s body has a physical reaction to that, and she taps on the brakes by accident. Not hard enough to send the both of you flying forward, but just enough of a push. You whip your head towards her, watching the way she furrows her eyebrows and shakes her head. 

“Sorry. Not trying to be defensive, but why…” She swallows thickly. “Why would you think that? And of me, of all people?”

She’s so, so gentle with the way she says it. Her voice quiet and low, not wanting to scare you away with this sudden confrontation. She reeks of true curiosity and something else that seems like hurt. 

“I just,” you start, trying to gather your words, then pause, not really recognizing where Ellie is driving. “Hold on. Where are you—?”

She pulls into an empty parking lot, stopping the car at an awkward angle, careless about her parking etiquette. 

“I’m sorry. I really just wanna clarify things,” she breathes out, her tone hurried as if you’ll slip and fade away if she doesn’t explain herself fast enough. “But, if you want me to completely fuck off, I’ll take you home. Just tell me.” 

You remain quiet, looking at her with a face that reads half anxious, half eager. A mix of the two, both emotions so similar in nature that maybe it kind of looks like… excitement. 

Ellie turns her body in her seat so that she can face you directly. “I was never tired of you, ever.” She takes in a slow, deep breath, trying to pace herself and keep her voice steady. With you, she can become passionate very quickly, so she needs to remain cool. “If anything, I thought that you felt that way about me. You stopped comin’ around, didn’t even try to room with me, and completely bailed on my attempts to see you. Did I do something?” 

She’s completely disarmed. Her words woven with nothing but good intentions, the look on her face desperate for some sort of reconciliation. She eyes you carefully, and if you looked hard enough, you may have been able to catch the glimmer of want in her eyes. 

Overcome with emotion, you fumble. Too busy with wanting to just defend yourself, swinging around your sword with your eyes shut in the hopes that you won’t get hurt, you don’t even try to match her energy. 

“Well, yeah,” you bite back, not nearly as careful as she was. “You changed. Everything changed. You made other friends, new friends, and just left me behind,” you accuse sharply, not thinking straight. “You… went behind my back.”

Despite the way that you speak to her, Ellie’s face softens. She knows what this is about. She’s too understanding, too willing to do anything to get you back in her life. As the realization slowly dawns on her, her heart flutters both with yearning and a deeper need. 

It’s how you end up pressed against the backseat of her car, her mouth on yours as her hands roam freely around your body. You shut up rather quickly, mind blurring over with the oncoming release of years of pent-up wanting. You tried to keep arguing back at her, and she did nothing but talk to you in that sweet tone, with eyes that scream I love you.

It isn’t that she’s trying to coax you, or anything. It just happened as you begin to increasingly realize that she is not going to fight you; she just wants you. She needs you to know that, she has to make herself clear. 

Fog creeps up the car windows as she presses her knee in between your legs, rocking against you slowly. 

Ellie’s pacing herself; she’s thought about this a few times, guiltily. But in her mind, it’s always been in her bed, her mind crafting the scene of your body, your little sounds. It was like she had to slap her own hand away from herself sometimes. 

So while this isn’t exactly what she had daydreamed it would be, she still wouldn’t complain. Regardless of the situation, you were pressed into her, panting and sighing in ways that made her mind turn to soppy mush, overrun with desire and emotion. 

And, while she’s set on taking care of you and showing you just how much you meant and still mean to her, she can’t help but want to make you admit it too. 

She pulls back from kissing you, her eyes glazed over as she looks at your face. Holy shit.

Skin so warm, and you already look spent. She swallows, suddenly doubting how long she’ll be able to hold off. 

She bites back a satisfied smile before she dips down again, her face hidden in the crevice between your neck and shoulder, kissing all the way down. 

“Take this off,” she murmurs, fingers pulling at the waistband of your skirt. You do your best to follow her orders, cramped up in the seat, pulling your knees towards yourself in an attempt to shimmy out of the fabric. It catches on your ankle, hanging, and you giggle at the state of the situation. Ellie’s heart melts over itself, beating erratically; she’s going fucking crazy. 

You’ve done nothing but moan, twitch, laugh, and flutter your lashes. She hasn’t even felt you yet, hasn’t even seen your body in its entirety. And she’s gone. 

She almost raises an eyebrow at the sight of your skimpy little underwear, but her question catches in her throat. You were at the club, after all. Something sinks in her stomach at the thought of anyone else seeing you like this, observing the way the fabric clings onto you. 

Her fingers massage at your inner thighs, her knee firm in place as she keeps them set apart. Her digits dance right against your core, pressing against the fabric. You twitch, rolling your hips into her, fingers catching on the seatbelt behind you, gripping on for life. She laughs, but not necessarily at you. 

It feels like it takes her years (well, technically) to push your panties to the side, eyes falling hazy as she stares right into you. You’re so vulnerable, you try shutting your thighs close, but she pushes them apart again. 

“I know,” she hushes you, dipping lower to nip at your lips. “I know.” 

Her fingers trace over your folds, and you think you’re about to explode. You hadn’t expected Ellie to be the type to make this agonizing and painful, but you know you probably deserve it after your showcase of attitude. 

She draws her hand back and brings her fingers up to her mouth, sucking on them nonchalantly. A satisfied sigh escapes her as she finally, finally gets to taste you on her tongue. She lets her hand travel back down, and you turn your head to the side, shutting your eyes in anticipation. 

“Look at me,” she commands softly, stopping her fingers right where you want her. 

You nod, giving her the false promise that you will. Ellie sees right through it, and with her free hand she gently grips onto your face, turning you to make eye contact with her. 

She needed to see your face as she fucked you, she needed to know, after so long of wondering, how you looked when facing pure pleasure. 

Your lashes flutter, eyebrows screwing together as she slips her fingers inside your warmth, pressing the heel of her palm against your clit. She’s gentle in the way she stretches you out, working you through it with such care and patience. 

Ellie revels in the way your chest heaves already, pupils blown out with bliss. She moves her knee and lets you shut your thighs together, trapping her hand in place. 

“This is all you needed, huh?” she teases, her voice only a little prickly, but her smile says otherwise. “For me to touch you like this.” 

You nod silently, too busy biting on your bottom lip and rocking your body onto her fingers to reply. 

“Answer me,” she demands with the same softness, setting the tone. Her gaze is locked onto your face, memorizing every twitch of your brow, every whine that leaves your lips. 

It’s almost ridiculous how brainless you are already, melting beneath her entirely. 

“Needed you,” you manage to breathe out, nodding your head again. “So bad.”

Ellie hisses a swear, and she can’t help the way she leans into you, pressing her body against yours. She curls her fingers inside of you, the palm of her hand nudging at your eager bud. She groans to herself as she feels your walls twitch around her digits, her head dropping low as if she has to stop herself from spiraling. She’s hanging on by a thread; a hair, wanting nothing more than to fuck you senseless. But it’s been too long, and she’s got something to prove to you. 

Her eyes shine as she feels your body grow tense, your wriggling becoming more constant. She slows down her pace, watching closely as your mouth drops, a pout playing at your lips. 

“Please,” you begin, and she smiles. 

“Please what?” 

“Please, fucking just,” you try grinding on her fingers, lashes fluttering. “Oh my god,” you sigh, that little attitude trickling in your tone. 

She scoffs, almost meanly. She stops her movements entirely, fingers falling slack in your pussy. “Yeah? Do it yourself, then.” 

And to her surprise, you do. That attitude is wiped clean from your voice as you whimper pathetically, body rolling, walls fluttering as you try to fuck yourself with her fingers. She stares at you in awe, throat running dry. 

It takes her a second, but she blinks and she’s falling back into you. Watching as you desperately chase your release, bumping your clit onto her hand, and you absentmindedly grab onto her arm, trying to anchor yourself. 

She sucks her teeth and sighs to herself. She had intended to drag this out, to make you beg, to make you say that you were hers all along. But with the way you hold onto her, shamelessly rutting your hips, her name falling off your lips like a prayer— she already knows it’s all true. 

She’s kind enough to start thrusting her fingers again, moaning at the way your slick bundles at your entrance, coating her fingers and slipping down her hand. It’s obscene, but she doesn’t care. In fact, it gives her more of a reason to clean you up afterward. 

“Ellie,” you breathe suddenly, your little prayers becoming less coherent as a certain feeling creeps around, engulfing your body and mind. “I’m gonna cum,” you whine shamelessly, the heat in your stomach spreading lower and lower, your body tingling. 

She leans over you again, watching over your face as your eyes slip shut. 

“Go ahead, baby. Let me hear you.” 

It’s a demand but she still says it so softly, a certain tenderness behind her words. You choke on your own moan, body practically seizing as your thighs tighten, fingers digging into her arm. You chant a repeated I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, and Ellie smiles as you do anyway, your cunt swallowing her fingers with your release. 

Her hand relentlessly slaps against your core, even though you begin to tear up and beg for her to stop. She smiles to herself before she slowly drags her fingers out of you, bringing them back up into her mouth. 

It’s not nearly enough. While you slump back into the seat, panting, body still shaky from such strong sensations, she’s busy maneuvering her body to sit on the floor of the car and propping your legs onto her shoulders. 

You blink as you slowly come back to reality, your mind hazy. 

“Ellie,” you start softly, reaching out your hand. 

She reaches up and intertwines your fingers, eyes locked on your dripping cunt as her voice carries over to your ears. “I’m right here. Can’t let it go to waste.” 

Your eyes roll back, another string of moans escaping you as Ellie shuts her eyes and latches onto your clit, moaning into your pussy. 

The hours of the night escape both of you, becoming lost in each other in the back of her car, cementing your fate. 

Ellie laughs at your blank expression, her hand rubbing down her face in disbelief. 

“That was so… garbage. Beyond garbage. Landfill levels of trash,” you say weakly, the soft lights of the movie theater reflecting off your face. 

She continues giggling at your side, hand over her mouth in an attempt to be quiet despite the fact that the movie is already over. 

You playfully swat at her arm, turning to her, face ridden with shock. “There’s no way you’re not disappointed! This shit was such a waste of money. We were better off pirating it.” 

She shakes her head and smiles to herself, hand wrapping around your own as she pulls you to stand up with her. “I think it was well worth it; it was, like, funny bad.” 

You stand, wrapping your arm around her own as you two trail down the steps of the theater. You continue picking the movie apart, disdain in your voice. You have a reason to be passionate; this lazy attempt at turning Savage Starlight into a box office success had taken a terrible turn, the movie filled with stupid one-liners and god awful acting. 

You should’ve known; it’s been a month since the trailer dropped— or, since you and Ellie came back together. A month of everything falling into place, the pieces of your individual lives slipping back into the way they used to be. A month of constant, whispered confessions, making up for lost time; lovelorn kisses, touches fueled by years of yearning. Pursuing your lives together again, and of course, falling back into your geeky little habits— the one thing that brought you together in the first place, anyway.

You shouldn’t have walked in with such high expectations after the both of you predicted how awful it was gonna be once you both sat down to rewatch the trailers together. 

As the two of you make it outside of the building, Ellie bites her cheek at the way you continue to ramble, the passion in your voice making her heart swell. There is just too much to adore about you. 

“Hey,” she starts, voice low. 

You raise your eyebrows. “What?”

Ellie nods her chin in the direction of her car, mischief written all over her face. “I know a way to give you a happy ending.”

You groan in annoyance, pushing her away. Your voice rings out and into her ears, settling her restless heart as you scold her, a smile showing through.

“Ellie!”

[bethanydelleman]

I just feel the need to point out, with all his faults and motives, Henry Crawford getting William Price promoted is probably the best thing that happens to the Price family in the entire book.

There were thirty-year-old midshipmen in that era. William was watching people get promoted ahead of him over and over. Despite his captains seeming to like him, he isn't moving up. Sir Thomas is likely trying to help (even if it's just to relieve himself of expense), but his interest has done nothing for William. And the whole system runs of nepotism or "interest" which Mr. Price clearly does not have and Sir Thomas doesn't have the right kind.

Henry Crawford goes to London and gets him promoted in a week.

Now William has a real officer position in the navy that pays well. He has broken into the ranks and it's far more possible for him to move higher. Instead of being a financial drain, he has a chance to make something of himself. It's a big deal! William also will have the ability to marry, as he points out himself no one would look at a midshipman.

It's interesting that the two greatest acts of charity in Mansfield Park, bringing Fanny to Mansfield and promoting William, are done by Mrs. Norris and Henry Crawford. No wonder the novel feels like it doesn't have a hero!

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price as Frederick Loren

House on Haunted Hill (1959) dir. William Castle

[stonehubindia0]

Travertine Stone: Appearance, Types, Origin, and Application

Marble and stone are excellent choices to magnify the appearance of the home and building. The collection of marble and stone is huge, and if you are someone who is confused about choosing the best imported marble in Kishangarh, then here we have the best imported Italian stone, which is travertine stone. Today we are going to learn a bit more about travertine marble, including types of travertine, their appearance, origin, and applications, so let’s get started.

Let’s take a glimpse at the types, appearance, origin, and application of Travertine Marble

The origin of travertine is in Italy, and this is basically found in the dolomite region. In the collection of the best Italian marble, travertine has also earned a decent place. But this is not a marble, it is a stone and possesses exceptional characteristics. The majority of people use this marble for interior decoration in homes and businesses. Stone Hub India has the best imported marble in Rajasthan, and they have around 300+ collections of marble, including travertine stone.

How is it different from other imported Italian marbles?

They are available in various colors and patterns.

The color of the Travertine never gets faded and stays for a long time.

Travertine always gives a matte finish and it will never reflect light.

Someone can use it for decorating walls, ceilings, kitchens, and bathrooms.

If you haven’t polished the surface of Travertine then it is perfect to use outside in order to avoid being slippery.

The pricing of the marble is based on the shine or luster, similarly, the price of Travertine stone is based on the origin and quality.

Travertine has endurance and a hard appearance.

As per the top imported marble company in Kishangarh - travertine stone is not for commercial purposes.

History has witnessed that - travertine has been used for years, and the most famous Roman building, the Roman Aqueducts, is built from travertine stone.

Types of Travertine  

There are various types of Travertine marble available in the market and you can choose any of the choices. These options are ideal for wall decoration, and other purposes. All the marbles are effortlessly available.

Travertine Giallo

Yellow Travertine

Noche Travertine

Silver Travertine

Titanium Travertine

The thing that you should not ignore if you are using Travertine Stone

Someone needs to be very conscious of using travertine, and bring the best kind of sealant to keep it protected.

Don’t clean the travertine surface with harsh cleaners.

A recent example of Travertine is Willis Tower in Chicago and the main pillars and wall of the building are made up of this stone only.

From placing it somewhere in the building to delivering it to the customers' homes, someone must handle it with extreme caution, or it will be damaged.

Wrapping Up -

Precaution is better than cure - we have heard this quote a thousand times, but sometimes we forget. Similarly, if you are going to use travertine, then it is necessary to know everything about this stone. Above, we have mentioned the origin, appearance, application, and types. Stone Hub India, Kishangarh is the topmost imported marble supplier Kishangarh, and for more information about Travertine Stone and other marble, stay connected with us.

Follow us on  - Facebook & Instagram

[aouiaa]

INTRODUCING

barista!abby x trainee!reader

warnings and disclaimers included the following

## content of sexual wlw content [mdni 18+], a slight cameo of ellie williams and joel miller, a classic frenemies with ellie pie and abby bear, a mention of parental death, a mention of male genitalia, smut with somewhat plot, softdom!abby, sorta loser!abby (cutie pie), sub!reader, public sex (break room of coffee shop), usage of petnames (pretty girl), praising, orgasm denial (once), fingering, nipple play, cunnilingus, face sitting, cum eating, aftercare (fucking finally i write some), strong language.

barista!abby who’s also a student in business dreams of opening her own coffee shop in aspiration of honoring her father and love for books.

barista!abby who argues that she’s killing two birds with one stone since she’s building skill and working for her degree.

barista!abby whose such a SHOW OFF in front of girls she finds attractive, it so feeds into her ego when it works, and the girls are all ogling over her mastery at coffee art. yeah, it’s totally not the arms that are doing it for them.

barista!abby who hates that little red or whatever color haired fuck, ellie. the two have curated non-verbally a competition on basically whose dick is bigger. who makes the best batch, who makes this, who makes that. it’s never ending with these two.

barista!abby who’s convinced ellie in another lifetime was a king’s jester with her profound tricks that amused no one, but herself. the tricks themselves could threatened the woman’s head off alone, finding herself in a fetal position, in a pit of her own laughter. when abby eagerly sits on a unsuspecting “prize” during lunch, only to hear what can be described as a gust of wind. her flushed countenance instantly transformed into anger when the palm of her hand held a whoopee cushion.

barista!abby who went so warm when she saw you talking to the manager after ellie confirmed you were a new employee that if you stuck a thermometer under her tongue in that moment, it’d earn a hospital visit. and with ellie on sidelines teasing her for the state she’s in wasnt helping, unnecessarily quoting if she’s under weather, then rain on your home.

barista!abby who at the end of your shift on your first day surprised you with a free pastry as a warm, warm welcome. a small gesture, unfortunately, came with the price of a dispute with her boss, and money taken out of her week’s pay. amidst said scolding, a surprising opportunity came up. a good one at that, to train you at the expense of ellie’s days off of work to visit in her father, joel in their hometown, wyoming. despite the fact that she hardly listened after the inviting words of you, buzzed her mind with endless possibilities. it had her practically salivating at the numerous scenarios swirling around in her head.

barista!abby who’s a few weeks into training you, was losing her MIND over the taunting questions of you flirting or not. the causal strokes of your fingertips against her biceps alone were making the job harder. she had to get to the bottom of this, and like a detective corner you and have you plead for mercy.

barista!abby who, with an ironic twist, was usually consumed with thoughts, now found her mind solely preoccupied with you. her gaze fixed on the firm grip you maintained on the wooden handle, watching how your movements harmonized with its every swing as you rigorously mopped the floor. the purpose once held by the rag now seemed inconsequential as she leaned against the counter, arms folded, absentmindedly chewing on her lip. she imagined those hands of yours grasping onto her with the same unwavering hold they wielded when she stretched you out.

"take a picture, it'll last longer." you quipped, confidence resonating in your tone, and looking over your shoulder to show off the smirk that truly sells it. you knew she had been watching the entire time, and now had the satisfaction of catching in her act. she scoffed lightly, attempting to cover up her evident embarrassment, clearly trying to play it off.

“my phone’s in the locker, care to help?” she taunts.

barista!abby who watches you, utterly mesmerized by your frenzied movements against her fingers, pinned against the locker, using your hands as support to hold yourself up. the sounds you emitted resembled a blender running at full speed, loud enough to reach the nation if anyone had been nearby. thank god, it was just the two of you for the closing shift, dissipating the risk of scaring any customers away.

her ring and middle finger slid diligently in and out of you, while her right hand teased your hardened nipple between her pointer and thumb. her chin rests on your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses on the bruises that dotted your neck. the gorgeous blues remained fixed on your mouth, agape to let her hear the sweet sounds of your pleasure. the corners of her lips curl into a satisfied smirk as she watched you tremble at the touch of her curling fingers on your g-spot.

abby's precise movements brought you closer and closer to the brink, the sensation was almost too much to bear. but just as you were about to succumb to the pleasure, her fingers slipped from your grasp. confused and frustrated, you’re flipped onto your back against the metal, meeting the gaze of the master puppeteer.

"you think i’m was gonna let you come and not see this gorgeous face?" she teased, admiring your disheveled state.

you frowned in protest, "i was just about to cum, asshole."

"careful, or you won't at all." she warned, taking your hand and leading you to a bench nearby. "sit on my face, pretty girl. no holding back." she commanded, her eyes filled with anticipation.

this time, with no complaints, you willingly complied with this new plan. abby's capable hands gripped the plush of your thighs, guiding you down onto her waiting mouth. the moment her tongue made contact, a moan tore itself from your larynx as a newfound sensation washes over you. your hand streams through her mane, tugging at the strands as she laps through your petal soft lips.

your hip, limited to their range of motion, rut back and forth against her prominent features, your body orchestrating itself towards it’s imminent. it wasn't long before the tension building in your abdomen snapped, sending you through the throes of your orgasm. your release painting the lower half of her face.

talk about a clean up in aisle seven!

barista!abby who makes sure you’re beyond comfortable, delicate caresses and praises when taking care of you. she, even going the extra mile, makes you hot coco, watching the liquid slosh within the mug, as she approaches you with a soft “there you go.” in response, you flash a smile and gratitude. she stood there, hands on her hips, observing you savor the drink. a grin tugging at her lips as she took in the sight of her oversized jacket draped over your shoulders.

intrigued by her smile, you raise an eyebrow and playfully inquire, "hey, what’s got you smiling over there?"

she chuckles softly, a light hue of pink painting her cheeks as her gaze momentarily wavers. looking everywhere but you, she brushes it off with a scoff, scratching her cheek. “nothing, just…” there's a brief sight of contemplation before she inevitably hesitates, shaking her head with a sigh. "nothing, forget it.” she dismisses.

you let out a hearty laugh, setting your mug aside. leaning forward playfully, you tease gently. "are you really going shy on me? like werent you just eating me out a second ago.“ a smirk adorning your features as you tilt your head.

her smile grows nervous, scratching the back of her neck as her blush deepens. mumbling a curse under her breath, she gathers the courage to ask, "i was just wondering if you'd like to go on a date with me?"

i’ll let you be the judge of that. part two?

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED !

PERMANENT TAGLIST, @dyk3ang3l, @elliesprettygirl, @les4elliewilliams, @r3starttt, @slut4mascss, @marsworlddd, @bready101, @abbysleftbicepp, @airenaa, @caraphernellie, @astralnymphh, @whore87, @kaiilectric, @sapphicontherun, @mikellie, @nihilisticangelbby, @be3flow3r, @ppuussyyy, @clairoscharm, @lvlymicha, @brackishkittie, @loveyru, @drunkonnatasha, @leosw0rld, @visupremacysstuff

[coco-loco-nut]

Why Logan Sargeant should go to Haas (from a sports management major/lens of corporate sponsorship):

- Haas has an empty seat

- Both are American

- Logan being with an American team is a draw for American sponsors, especially with America being a budding F1 market

- American fans have a growing interest in F1, so an American driver and team is a draw for fans who don’t want to be the Cowboys/Duke Basketball/Yankees/Dodgers fans of F1

- Logan needs a seat next year and pookie deserves the best

- The American sponsors that brought money into Williams for Logan are more likely to connect with the Haas sellers more due to the American draw

- If I am Haas, sign Logan, then make overly American merch (at a good price for fans), you can bet your ass every American fan will be buying it

- honestly the property assets alone that can be made by going all in on “american greatness” would be worth it

In conclusion:

Logan Sargeant + Haas = 🇺🇸💸🦅

[twistedtummies2]

The Price May Be Right - Number 14

Welcome to “The Price May Be Right!” I’m counting down My Top 31 Favorite Vincent Price Performances & Appearances! The countdown will cover movies, TV productions, and many more forms of media. Today we focus on Number 14: Frederick Loren, from The House on Haunted Hill.

This classic spook show is generally considered to be the masterpiece of director William Castle. He was a director who specialized in horror and mystery films that usually had a sort of deliberately campy and sardonic edge to them; they’re movies that could certainly be startling and eerie, but weren’t necessarily meant to be taken COMPLETELY seriously. The result was a series of Gothic thrillers with a humorous touch that have gained quite a cult following over the years, largely due to their bizarre and unique sense of tone. I say “largely” because another infamous element of Castle’s films was that he tried to turn them into interactive experiences…more on that later. Vincent Price worked with William Castle on his first two independent scary movies…and the very first, and generally considered the best, was “House on Haunted Hill.” The film stars Price as Frederick Loren, an eccentric billionaire who arranges a party for seven people (including himself and his money-grubbing wife) inside the titular haunted mansion. Aside from Frederick himself and his bride, Annabelle, all of the guests are unknown to each other. Loren’s motivations for why he is doing all this are initially a mystery: it’s revealed that Annabelle is the one who came up with the idea for the party, but Loren is the one who decided to invite the guests. As the film goes on, strange and shocking events transpire in the house, which is said to be the home of seven murderous ghosts (one for each guest). When Loren’s wife is mysteriously murdered, the remaining tenants locked inside the building – Loren, himself, included – must find a way to stay alive till morning, wondering which of their party is the culprit. Loren is the obvious suspect, and played up as something of a red herring; his evasive personality and shady past – Annabelle isn’t his first wife, nor the first to die mysteriously – make him seem like the most clear guilty party. (Being played by Vincent doesn’t exactly help matters.) However, as the story goes on, it soon becomes clear not all is as it seems…and it is neither Vincent’s character, nor the supposed spirits who haunt the old house, that is to blame for the dangers present. While Price is ultimately just one character in what turns out to be essentially an ensemble cast, he's the one who gets the biggest spotlight of the group, most likely due to his star power and the fact his character is the host of the party which the story centers around. Anytime you look up lists of favorite Vincent Price movies, you’re almost guaranteed to find this picture among the ranks. One of the things that made the movie popular was that interactive element I mentioned earlier: Castle often included “gimmicks” in his films that turned them into more than just a movie. In the case of “House on Haunted Hill,” during a scene where a skeletal ghost rises from a hot vat of bubbling acid, there was a trick where a real skeleton would suddenly appear over the heads of the audience, floating across the screen like a specter and startling the viewers. If William Castle hadn’t become a movie maker, he could have made a killing at theme parks! Tomorrow, the countdown continues with Number 13!