#there is an italian woman teaching me currently.

[lovely-v]

i want to write a cookbook fic but the only problem is i'm famous for not having known how to make grilled cheese before reading it in a kiribaku fic. so needless to say i dont rly know how to cook

[r3starttt]

CALL ME BY YOUR NAME | 01

fic M.list | read this or dni

Somewhere in northern Italy.

It was summer, it’s been hot, unbearable hot the last few weeks. Your family, all Jewish, have a not so small cottage with the most gorgeous landscape ever, and that’s where you all spend any vacation or holiday that appears. Which is the current case.

Your mother’s and anthropologist, meaning she adores places with history like the small town you’re at, and teaching people since she can always learn new things as well. Your dad on the other hand, he’s just doing what a housewife would do, he’s a professor as well, just doesn’t really work since you were born, that’s the agreement your parents made.

So with that on mind you well knew this summer wouldn’t be any different, your mom with some new student who died to live the whole leaving in Italy experience and your dad being the perfect parent. Perfect family in a perfect place leaving and teaching the perfect live.

Not that you mind it though.

Coming to Italy means getting to see old friends, having new situationships with hot Italians and of course, visiting extravagant places your family likes going to and learning something new, whether it’s from reading another book like you’re used to, visiting museums or just going to somehow new anthropological areas that your mom adores taking you to.

It’s nice, and you never get bored even you do this at least twice a year. There’s always something new to experience.

You were currently in your room with what you considered an old friend, pretty close one. Curly hair, pretty, and stupidly in love with you. Marzia. The hot breeze that came from the window in your room filled the emptiness between both. You currently changing your clothes and her eyes purely fixated on your body.

That until the wooden floor of the house started to resound and vibrate, accompanied by the loud engineer of a probably old car. That was it “l'usurpatore” as you and Marzia called the new student your mom brought every holiday to your house.

Ignoring her basically eye fucking you, you decided to go and have a preview of this new person, just by the way its arrival sounded you could have an idea of how they would be. Probably on their thirties or forties, rich and a bit sophisticated because otherwise they wouldn’t have pay for this type of experience.

So you ran to the nearest window, not in your room to of course to one, avoid Marzia, and two, avoid the obviousness of your presence while criticizing whoever new guests you’d have to live together with for the next month.

The floor was old, and it was as loud as that engineer that kept sounding, until both stopped in unison, right on time so you could have a proper view. Interrupted, of course, by Marzia and some strings of her hair moving along with the air, right behind you but enough striking to catch the slightest of your attention. “E' fiducioso, eh?” you whispered once you hear It’s voice, she sounded pretty confident, loud.

There she was, a tall blonde woman with what it looked like a perfectly made braid ruined by both the unbearable heat of this place and the breeze that besides doing nothing but sending the hot of the air everywhere was also annoyingly loud.

She said something inaudible to both your parents, you could hear their voices but not loud enough to catch a word they said. By the way they shook hands and the way she kissed them on the cheek you assumed it was just a boring greet.

That meant two things, Marzia leaving and you having to take care of the guest for the rest of the week at least until they catch their pace. Yet before you even excuse yourself properly from Marzia the loud voice of your dad calling for you took you out of your thoughts, turning around and giving your curly haired friend a polite kiss on the cheek. “Devo andare giù” you said, letting her know you’ll be downstairs if not completely gone the moment your parents made you socialize with the woman.

Running and tryin your best to properly put on your clothes you went downstairs, accompanied by the loud sound of the wood along the whole floor and your sandals hitting the floor. There she was.

They were just coming inside the house to your moms office, now your own library too. Your dad motioned your hand so you would come in as well, murmuring a quiet and repetitive “come here”.

You made sure everyone was inside before coming in, getting a small peak of what this woman’s car looked like, again. It was fancy, clean and covered in a very shiny dark green. Suit her, you thought.

The moment you pass the door frame there it is, taller than you, stronger than you and with the most exquisite style you’ve ever seen someone wear. Maybe it was the way she knew how to combine both texture and color, or just her whole appearance, but she was by far the best looking guest you’ve ever had.

“This is our daughter” your mom said, stepping aside with a glass in hand, always so elegant. You said your name, the blonde woman smiled at you, extending her arm towards your direction to shake hands “Abby”

“You must be exhausted” she nodded, not as confidently as you saw her when she first arrived “may I bring your things up to your room?” a small "uhh" brushed past her lips before she ultimately agreed “my room?” you turned around, facing your dad who’s orders you already knew, followed by a silent nod. You replied the same way, slightly crouching to help Abby carry her bags to your room.

“follow her” some pats were heard after you turned around, probably your mom patting her somewhere in her body to do as she told her to, follow you to her room. After that you could only hear the silent footsteps behind you, until they overlapped with ones even louder. Marzia.

You exchanged looks with her, pressuring to go upstairs again and passing by her completely. Until the silence was broken by a kiss on someone’s cheek, making you turns around to see both and just running your eyes at the ironic scene that thankfully didn’t last much in front of you.

Once in your now old room, the door slapped loudly, making the woman jump by the abruptly echo in the room. The light had gone darker, letting in a blue ish color to fulfill the whole room. The bags fell in the floor for you to finish cleaning the room you’ve just made a mess in while changing clothes, picking them and placing them disastrously in your closet.

Last thing you saw was her body lying on your bed shamelessly. Her white t-shirt wrinkling as she did “you have my room now, I’ll be next door” your would probably sounded like mumbled to her at this point but you were doing the usual protocol. She hummed a tiredly ‘mhm’ looking you from the corner of her eye.

“We’ll be sharing the bathroom, hope you don’t mind it” you got on the floor to pick one last pair of jeans you’d left in the room, smiling at the random appearance of quiet snores behind you. She’d fallen asleep, probably exhausted as your parents just said.

That made you wonder where was she from, that was usually information your parents didn’t share with you.

-

Hours passed by, the sky was alredy tainted dark blue fading into almost completely black. It was one of those evenings where you could hear the crickets chirping loudly in the outside, the air even though was warm it wasn’t annoying, it was refreshing enough, quiet and peaceful. Sooner you should be called for dinner.

Currently you were sitting at your desk, hand facing the cold of it as you kept staring at the score with some notes previously made with a sharpened pencil that had left some annotations impossible to erase. The low music coming from your headphones however wasn’t enough to silent the bell that, as you thought, made sure everyone knew and got ready for dinner.

So you stood up, placing everything displayed on your desk decently enough to give the look of tidiness. Grabbing then the sandals randomly placed on the floor and quietly walking towards the door that lead to your original room now occupied by Abby. Knuckles hitting the cold and tough wood that adorned the door, three times, no answer at all.

Getting inside, as the door squeaked loudly you took a glance of the inside. Eyes falling immediately on the still sleepy body of the woman. A giggle escaped your mouth as you noticed, she’d woken up sometime since the last time you saw her since the braid wasn’t there anymore, replaced by her natural long hair that somehow you didn’t see when she first arrived.

-

Next day you woke up to your usual routine. The heat that filled the room accompanied by the unbearable sun that came trough the window woke you up early in the morning, before you could start sweating you took a usual shower with the coldest water possible, that also came warm due the ambience being hot and the sun naturally warming everything.

Red t-shirt and a pair of shorts with some white tennis shoes, that was today’s fit. It was basic, not elegant or fancy at all but it looked good and was just right for the climate you were still getting used to.

Breakfast was ready before you even went downstairs so you took your time before doing so. Yet the moment you sat and took the first bite of the food the lady that helped at that house made just for you, there she was. Amazingly energetic compared to yesterday but talkative as you remember, greeting your parents with her loud voice and just murmuring a small ‘hi’ to you, which you replied the same.

As they spoke about how much Abby had slept yesterday and some other stuff you naturally ignored she mentioned something about a bank account, feeling the heavy look of both your parents directed to you “I can show you around” the warm smile you received from them made you pay attention back. This is when your job started, showing the town to every new usurpatore.

“That’ll be great thanks” probably the hunger combined with the energy she’s gotten from sleeping so much the day before is playing her dirty, because such woman can’t be so ignorant. She broke the egg, the simplest food to eat. Of course the silent chuckle that passed her lips and the way her cheeks noticeable tainted in a rose tone made you say nothing about it, or do something as you would done with any other person.

She looked nice, that played part on it too. She had a blue striped blouse and a pair of white shorts, everything perfectly well-off and suiting her toned body just right. Shirt opened enough to show a but of the tank top she was wearing under, showing also a collar, you couldn’t really tell what it was but it looked like it was something religiously. No judgment though.

-

After breakfast you took her out, to see the town, have a small tour and get an idea of where things were so she could move in her own later. You originally suggested bicycles but she’s apparently too sophisticated for that. So she took the two of you on her car, the one you saw yesterday when she arrived.

It took you two some minutes to get to the main town square, she wanted to get something fresh because of the hotness that was everywhere. There was a pretty famous bar nearby, so she basically dragged you there, naturally having some small talk with everyone inside the whole time you were there.

It didn’t last long though, she wanted to get back outside to “live the whole experience” so you’re currently sitting with her on some bench she found, covered by some trees yet still warm. “So, what does one do here?” she had what seemed like some random sheets with something related to your mom’s job. You’ve seen her work your whole life and being a very visual person you could always tell when there was something anthropology related.

You were reading a book, accompanying her in her small trip quietly and so far doing nothing but small talk with her. So when you heard her you took a moment to process her words, too focused on your own world. Closing and placing the book on the bench, between the two of you and letting out a heavy sigh before answering. “Wait for the summer to end” she chuckled, that’s when you saw her.

She had some front stands of her hair now loose from her slicked braid, gracefully dancing over her cheeks due the breeze. Her cheeks were slightly red and there was some not so visible sweat covering the entrance of her hair.

She did the same as you, placing her sheets down and covering them with your book so they wouldn’t fly away. Her eyes met yours probably for the third time since she first met you. “Yeah?” her tone clearly sarcastic elicited a smile on your face, fading before she let you say anything “And what do you do in the winter? wait for summer to come?” tilting her head to the side she rolled her sleeves up to her elbows, not breaking eye contact once at all.

Your words came out almost as a reflex, feeling her gaze piercing your whole body “We only come here for Christmas and other holidays…for vacation” your voices overlapped, yet none of you stopped “Christmas? I thought-“ “like Easter as well-“ “I thought you were Jewish”

“Well we are Jewish, but, also American…Italian, French, somewhat a typical combination” you responded once she finally shut up, thankfully, you thought. She didn’t speak again, just stared back at you, nodding and letting out a very inaudible ‘mhm’ “besides my family you’re probably the only Jewish that’s put a foot in this town”

Her face changed, she looked relaxed now, even let out a small laugh “oh so you noticed?” you nodded as an answer, proud of your gossipy self “Im from a small town in New England, I know what it’s like to feel different” so, she’s from England. That says a lot about her.

“So what do you do around here?” She’s been dying to ask that. Abby felt that you, being so young and just about to star your adult life, had lots of free time, and she needed to know what you did in such place like this town. She had no clue about you but she felt like you knew everything about her, she wasn’t so wrong on that though. “Read books, transcript music, swim at the river, go out at night, I dunno” you finally answered, unsure on what to say since deep inside you there was a craving for her acceptance “sounds fun”

After that she just casually putted together all the sheets she’d been reading or writing stuff on. “Thanks kiddo, see ya’” and she left.

You were confused, unsure on how to get back home with this painful weather and on why she randomly left after having a proper talk with you for the first time. You didn’t hesitated or anything, naturally waving at her as she left.

It’s not like she owned you anything after all, the plan was for you to show her the town and that’s all. Now you knew she took things literally.

Or that’s the impression she gave.

-

It’d been a whole day after that, you didn’t see her when she came back home. You spent all day in your room, finishing those music sheets you’ve been working on, reading and spending some time before dinner with Marzia.

At this point she basically lived with you as well, and honestly you never got why your parents let her. Maybe they were being a little too supportive.

Or you two were a little too obvious.

Today’s morning went as usual, the typical routine you’ve been repeating for some weeks already. Along Abby now, who spent some hours with your mom debating on some random stuff you didn’t even tried to pay attention to and debating on some etymological definition for some word.

Which only made both of your parents more exited about her presence since no other student had ever try and correct your mom. It made you smile, it was interesting to see someone like her interact with someone like your parents, like your family.

The plan for today was to spend some time with your friends, something your parents suggested when Marzia was present someday and that made you say yes to it because how could you deny anything to her?

Later have a small dinner, outside on the beautiful garden your dad loved to take care of. And of course Abby was included in everything, whether she decided to be there or not, the invitation was there.

The climate today wasn’t the most adequate for what you planned to do, it was hot, as it has never been before. The sun burned and the air wasn’t fresh, no shadow could bring comfort, no breeze or drink could get rid of the warm that was everywhere.

So when Abby took from you the glass with ice and cold water that you needed to drink it didn’t make you smile exactly. And she noticed your unpleasant expression, laughing at you. “Why’re your mad mhm? Don’t be so tense” there was something about those words that made you want to rip your skin. It was painfully annoying to hear people say anything about how you didn’t look so happy.

Maybe it was only you but every time those words were hear there was a context of someone purposely annoying you. And maybe it was the way you were raised and how this woman kept on ruining every opportunity she had to know you better but you just couldn’t take it.

So you shocked your head, feeling overwhelmed by your friends loud cheers to someone playing volleyball and the warm that was slowly consuming your body, almost burning every cell in your body.

“Yeah you are, here, take this” she returned the glass you were about to drink some seconds ago, too disgusted to mix saliva you hold it, trying to find comfort at least by holding it. And it wasn’t until she pressed her hands on your back that you realized what she intended to do.

A massage. So you would be so moody and tense and annoyed.

So you tried push her away, but besides she kept being insistent and her body was though er and stronger than yours you didn’t really care, not if she was the one giving you a whole massage session.

“Stop moving” she hissed, practically manhandling you and starting to move her palms on top of your back, pressing right on the muscle “Marzia, come here” you heard right next to your ear, naturally rolling your eyes and straightening your back. Why Marzia and not her?

-

-

“Don’t you think he’s rude when he says ‘later’?” you sat right in front of your mom, already changed into some more fancy clothes, still fresh for the hot that was somehow still in the air even though it was night and the stars were already shining in the sky, lightening everything along the moon. “Arrogant”

Your dad spoke, pouring some liquid you assumed was juice with some alcohol in it or frutal water into what seemed like your glass “l don’t think that’s the word” he extended the glass to you, which you took with a slightly fake but polite smile.

“That’s how she’ll say goodbye, with a stupid ‘later’ and then will never come back” maybe your mistake was your creativity because you could picture her like it, too real and accurate for someone like her “Well, we still have to be with her for six long weeks. Maybe you’ll grow to like her” your mom said, standing from her chair to grab something that was on your side of the table. “or maybe I’ll grow to hate her” your mom took advantage of her closeness, hitting your hand.

It was clear you were annoyed. It felt like everyone in that table knew something you didn’t and was making fun of it.

I could be Abby’s absence, but the idea of her presence fit better with your ideas. You hated how she was so confusing and impossible to read, how she ignored you and only played with you whenever she was in fact around. How she seemed always busy and only had patience and interest for your parents but also made you feel like an adult whenever she noticed you.

You hated all the mixed signals and shit she’s out you trough in so small amount of time.

You hated her.

-

[allegraforchrist]

Hi, my (middle) name is Allegra, and it means jovial and lively- as the Italian musical term “Allegro”.

♡ I’m 18

♡ she/her

♡ female

♡ favorite verses is Lamentations 3:25-27.

♡ Favorite colors are pink, red, black and white.

♡ BLESS and FREE ISRAEL 🇮🇱

This is my blog, and I’m very excited to be on here and share God’s gospel and the teachings of Jesus Christ.

I want to make a note that, if you do not like my blog, you can ignore it and scroll on. There’s no need to be hateful or aggressive.

My blog is a non-judgemental, safe space for all Christians, youth and older, tall or shorter, all ethnicities and cultural backgrounds, all persons and those who are newer followers of Christ.

My blogs purpose is not to:

-> ‘indoctrinate’ or force opinions

-> be exclusionary or bigoted

-> express hateful or ‘guilt-trippy’ beliefs

-> suppress or oppress any minorities or marginalized communities/religions/cultures

💕 I’m sharing my love of God on a platform, and will not exercise hypocritical judgement on those who aren’t followers of Christ, and I hope the same attitude and respect can be shown towards me. I value all with respect, humility, and kindness.

🙏 Curiosity, questions, and all topics are welcome, however arrogance, and prejudice are not. I will stand strongly for my faith but I do not need to validate it to those who do not share it.

🩰 I post scriptures, Bible Study Notes, songs, art, podcasts and vents about Jesus and God, to elevate, praise and worship them. None of what I talk about is to be taken as criticism for whomever’s lifestyle choices, beliefs or practices- it is not about you.

🌸 A lot of what I post about comes from personal struggles with my sexuality, my connection to the Church, my mental health, religious affliction, and all ways that Jesus saved me. I don’t identify as bisexual or use they/them pronouns anymore, as my identity is in Christ, and I’m a woman of God. However, that doesn’t mean my page is welcome to homophobia, transphobia, queerphobia; or xenophobia, antisemitism, Islamophobia, or hate toward other Christian denominations. Nor will I tolerate allegations of hatefulness towards other communities.

🤍 Lastly, I do not aimed to be liked or respected by the masses, as I live for the approval and wisdom of God. If you don’t like that, please, as much as any opinion is valued, keep your condescension to yourself. Christian or not, there are boundaries I have.

🪽 Please Note: I cannot make any monetary donations, online or internationally via PayPal or such apps. I do not reside in the US, and I do not have independent access to funds that I could give. I want to donate and assist the best I can, however I can only petition, reblog and pray for you- as far as my current liberty goes.

Thank you so much.

Jesus loves you!!!

[arctic-shard]

Outer Child, chapter 4

( I was trying to keep the chapters 1K words or less, but it looks like I’m not sticking to that.  Dr West and Dr Usher - 035′s current researcher - have a lot to talk about. )

( Italian translations by Google Translate, if they’re weird. ;) )

Outer Child, chapter 4

Warnings: none

Words: 1400~

-----

  There was a knock, then Victoria's containment door slid open.  Dr Myrna Usher walked in, carrying a small tupperware.  "Dr West," she acknowledged, with only the tiniest twitch of the corner of her mouth when she found Victoria sitting on the floor, toddler-sized Amica and the Doctor on either side of her as they played sock-puppets.  Really just socks on their hands tucked in a bit to make a mouth.  It wasn't as if Victoria kept toys in her containment.

  "Dr Usher," said Victoria, stone-faced and flat-voiced, daring the younger woman to say anything about the socks.  "What is that?"

  "Snacks," shrugged Usher, holding up the tupperware.  "I thought they might be more cooperative if I bribe them.  And it will keep them distracted so we can talk."  She came in and knelt down to get a better look at the small entities, who shied back and held tightly to Victoria.  "Hello, 2264-3.  Or 035?" she said to Amica.  "I'm your researcher, Dr Usher.  I've talked to you but you've never seen me before."

  Amica's expression changed to tragedy as it eyed Usher suspiciously.  "Per te, io sono il Signore Nero."

  "Sei sempre contrario, piccolo signore," replied Usher, sounding amused.  "Do you remember me?"

  "No," said Amica simply.

  "Well, maybe you'll remember me if I give you this," said Usher, opening the tupperware to reveal crackers, cubed cheese, and grapes that had been cut in half for some reason.  "Share these with your little friend while I talk to Dr West."

  Victoria got up from her place on the rug and took the sock off her hand.  Amica and the Doctor tossed their hand-socks aside as well.  They might have been wary of Usher, but they set to the snacks with a will.

  Victoria and Usher went closer to the door to talk.  Not that it gave them any real distance, but it was the thought that counted.  Usher looked over at Amica and the Doctor, no longer bothering to hide her grin.  "They're stupid cute.  It's hard to believe they've murdered people when they look like that."

  "Try to stay focused, Usher."

  "You don't get to lecture anyone on that."

  "I get to lecture everyone.  Stay focused or you'll end up dead and fired like West."

  They glared at each other for a moment, but Usher caved first and gave a short laugh of defeat.  Or maybe just humouring the monsterfucker.  Victoria asked, "Why cut the grapes in half?"

  "So they don't choke on them?"  Like it was obvious.

  "I ... would not have thought of that."

  "Fuck, West, you should not be in charge of children," said Usher.

  "I am aware," Victoria replied flatly.  "How do you know any of this?  Do you have children?"

  "No, I'm just Italian.  Huge family," she added, in case Victoria didn't know the stereotype.  "I spent high school baby-sitting various cousins."

  They watched Amica and the Doctor for a while.  They seemed to be sharing well enough, Amica even picking out bits of cheese to give to the Doctor.  Victoria had worried that Amica wouldn't be good at sharing, but their bond seemed to be holding strong - Amica took more enjoyment from watching the Doctor eat than in eating.

  "They don't need to eat, do they?" Usher asked after a minute.  "035's file says it can but doesn't need to, but Combs mentioned you wanted snacks brought."

  "049 enjoys food.  035 finds human food bland but is a social eater.  Neither of them need to eat, they just like to," Victoria explained.

  "Am I going to have to teach you how to change diapers?"

  "No, thank God - neither of them produce waste products.  That would be too damn awkward."  And, absolutely not wanting to continue that train of thought, "This is your first time being in the same room as 035, isn't it?"

  Usher looked over at Amica, who was making a sandwich out of two crackers and a grape half.  "Yes.  I've stayed out of its range - I've read what happened to every other researcher it's ever had.  I thought it was probably safe now, with its effects reduced.  Why does it have six arms?"

  "No idea.  It prefers having six arms, that's how it looks in 2264-B.  Why the object transformed it this way is unknown.  Does it have a number yet?" asked Victoria.

  "Probably, but I don't know it.  Oh!"  Usher reached into her lab coat pocket and pulled out a notebook stuffed with bookmarks.  Ignoring the bookmarks, she withdrew a folded sheet of paper that had been tucked into the front cover.  "Look at this."

  Victoria unfolded the paper to reveal pencil drawings of four ornate masks - the Lords of Alagadda.  She recognised Amica's sketchy but detailed drawing style.  Usher must have convinced it to make the drawing for her.

  One of the Humours' odder anomalies was that any depiction of them changed when the real mask changed expression.  It was obvious something was wrong - Mirth's face wasn't a laugh but twisted in grief, Diligence's neutral expression was more severe, only Odious retained its basic snarl.  It was easy to see why.  Amica's mask was in its comedy aspect, but ...

  Chubby cheeks, a small rounded nose, fine eyebrows, no wrinkles or age lines.  The drawing of the Black Lord's mask had changed not only to copy its expression, but the way the mask currently looked.

  Victoria looked back up at Usher, who nodded.  "Every depiction of 035 looks like that now," Usher confirmed.  "The photographs and videos look very strange, that baby face on an adult body.  Every painting of 035, every sculpture, whatever they have in 2264-B - they know something's gone weird with it."

  "Do you think they'll try anything?"

  "Fuck, I don't know, you're the one who's actually been there," said Usher.  "The 2264-3s can't come here, but there have been 2264-1s on Earth before, and they have at least a couple different cults out there."

  "2264-4?" asked Victoria.

  "It seems to prefer to give warning before it appears - sending a letter or appearing briefly several times before manifesting fully.  Building tension."  Usher put the drawing away again.  "Has 035 said anything about what its people might do?"

  "It's hard to know exactly how much it knows," said Victoria.  "It's already limited by a toddler's thought processes and vocabulary.  It could be picking up things from us by telepathy.  They both seem to remember what they are.  035 is part of 2264-B so it knows the bits that relate to who it is.  I'm not literally part of it so it doesn't remember me, but it does remember the bond."

  Usher nodded.  "It told me to call it Signore Nero.  Black Lord."

  They returned to watching Amica and the Doctor.  Amica had put a sock back on one of its hands and was 'feeding' the sock-snake a piece of cheese.  Victoria decided it wasn't worth being annoyed about - it was just a sock.

  "If only 049 was affected, I might have theorised that this was an age regression," said Victoria after a moment.  "He believes he had been human to begin with and became the Doctor as an adult, but with his memory loss he can't be certain.  If it was only him, it might have been a hint that he was born anomalous."

  She looked over at Amica.  "But 035 was never a child, so the effect of the object must be a transformation."

  "'There are no children in Alagadda,'" quoted Usher.  "Do you know anything about 035's origins?"

  "Very little.  035 itself doesn't know the circumstances of its creation.  It came into being fully-formed as the Black Lord.  The only thing it's certain of is that the other 2264-3s were already there when it awakened."

  "And 2264-4?"  Usher had a particular interest in the Ambassador, the way an arachnophobe might study spiders to try to conquer fear with knowledge.  Surviving an SCP-701 Event was what had started her on her path that eventually lead her to the Foundation.

  Victoria shook her head.  "It showed up later, according to 035."

  "Do you know why there are no children in Alagadda?" asked Usher.

  "I suppose they don't need them.  Alagaddans are conjured by alchemy," said Victoria.  "Is there a different reason?"

  "I don't know, it just seems so ... emphatic.  The phrase keeps appearing - 'there are no children in Alagadda.'  Like it's an order or a prophecy, not just an observation.  Like ... like they conjure new Alagaddans because they can't or shouldn't have children, not that they don't need children because they conjure."

[of-twilight-and-moonshadow]

What Is Mine - Marcel x Reader x Fabian

So, with the latest episode of NXT, @wwzentertainment asked for Imperium x Reader. 

Here it is~ Almost the quickest I’ve wrote anything; just over an hour. 

Enjoy!

Warnings? : Polygamous relationship (pretty much it). Small fight scene, multiple translations of German and Italian, little bit of body insecurity near the end

TAG LIST @starwithaheart​ @shedevil22 @amourseculier @regalbanshee​ @barthelsimperium​ (because i think you’ll like this too)

Note: Funny Marcel gif i found at the end because <3 

(divider)

I stood backstage, just out of sight, as I watched my two boys do an interview about their win last week at Halloween Havoc. What we had between us was… unusual… but between the three of us, we made it work.

I love Marcel. He was quiet but strong; demanding, yet gentle. Compassionate and funny but also stern.

I love Fabian. He was a giant teddy bear and a protective Sheppard; he joked a lot but was also romantic.

I knew, back in 2019 when we met, that there was no way I could ever choose one over the other. They seemed to know too, and to understand. Which made our current… arrangement—work, all the more. Never before had I even thought of being in a Polygamous relationship—and they hadn’t either, they admitted one night as we cuddled on the couch.

But it was what we had, and what worked. Thinking back on that night, I couldn’t help but smile—it was also the first night we all slept together. It was a fun night—despite the soreness I felt the next few days.

“—we don’t compromise with American ideals.” Fabian wrapped up in Italian, as Marcel looked over at him with his usual smug frown.

Seeing the two of them act so differently in front of camera compared to when it was just us, it caused a small chuckle. Unfortunately, my cheery mood quickly was squashed as I watched Gigi and Jayce walked onto the screen.

“Congratulations on becoming new NXT tag team champions,” Gigi told them, eyeing Marcel in a way I did not like,” You definitely… look… the part.” She reached out with her black rose and gentle ran it down Marcel’s jawline, seemingly catching his interest.

I stood there, jaw clenched, not moving. My whole body was frozen in place—not in fear. In anger.

“And so do we,” Jacy pointed out, gesturing between her and Gigi, as she pulled away from Marcel. I was barely aware of Fabian glancing in my direction, as the camera panned in on the ladies.

“Actually, we just found out we have a six woman tag team match next week,” Jacy continued, smiling at the thought, eyeballing Marcel some more, as Gigi looked from her partner to Marcel,” And I think… you guys should watch us.” The camera panned away, bringing both Marcel and Fabian into screen again, looking like they held some interest—or at least, curiosity.

Marcel leaned over towards Fabian, a smirk on his face, whispering,” We definitely will,” before continuing in German.

“The mat is sacred, but American has its benefits.” I heard him say, being able to translate his words since he had been teaching me German—and Fabian teaching me Italian. Italian was strangely the more difficult of the two languages, as I picked up on German a lot quicker. They watched in interest as the Gigi and Jacy walked away, eyeballing them up and down.

My heart dropped, and I felt not only pissed off but sick to my stomach.

The interview wrapped up, as Mackenzie walked away with the camera man, and I saw Fabian gently elbow Marcel, whisper something—and then Marcel look over in my direction. His eyes were slightly wide, like he feared something.

Good.

Just as they made a step towards me, I spun on heel and stalked off.

“Principessa!” (ts: Princess)

“Kleiner, warte!” (ts: Little one, wait)

Ignoring them, I picked up my pace as I knew they were getting close to catching up with me. Damn their long legs!

“Kleiner—” Marcel began, but I spun around to face them, stopping them dead in the tracks. (ts: little one)

“Nein!” I exclaimed, pointing a finger at him,” Nein nein nein nein! Just—just leave mich alone!” (ts: no / me)

“Amore—” Fabian tried but quieted with a look from me. With that, I spun back around and stomped off towards the women’s locker room. Unfortunately, that didn’t help matters, because low and behold– -who was standing just outside the door?

Jacy Jayne and Gigi Dolin.

Great. Just great.

As I got closer, all intent to just pass on by them and ignore them, went out the window when I heard Jacy let Marcel’s name slip.

“—kind of, but Marcel is. All those muscles—”

“You leave Marcel alone!” I snapped, getting in her face. I’d get in trouble for the altercation no doubt, but right now, I didn’t care.

“Why? You’re in a thing with Aichner—”

“—Dunno why—” Gigi muttered.

“—Unless you’re sneaking around behind his back with Marcel—”

“It’s none of your business! Just stay AWAY from Marcel and Fabian! Do you understand me?!” I yelled at both of them.

“Why? What are you gonna do about it?” Gigi asked, eyeballing me up and down.

I couldn’t do it—I couldn’t fight them. Medical hadn’t cleared me yet from my foot injury. I just had to walk away—

“We said—what are you going to do?” Jacy repeated, as Gigi shoved my shoulder—and then I saw red. My right leg flew up, foot connecting with Jacy’s abdomen, shoving her backwards on her ass. In the second of confusion for Gigi, I brought my elbow around and knocked her right in the face as she turned back towards me. Stunned for a second, I bent her over a bit and started punching at her back, trying to knock the wind out of her lungs. My focus on her, I didn’t see Jacy come at me until I felt her hands grab my hair and slam me face first into the wall. Gaining the upper hand, they began shouting and belittling me as they attacked, gaining attention from the surrounding backstage personnel, as they tried to separate us. They pulled Jacy and Gigi away from me, thinking I wasn’t going to antagonize the situation, that I was the calmer of the three—but not this time.

As soon as I had the chance, I launched myself at the two of them—including the personel and other talent holding them back—leading with overhead punches, trying to get as much damage as possible. Arms wrapped around my waist, trying to pull me away and in my bought of adrenaline, my elbow hooked around behind me and got the guy in the face. They let me go, stumbling away.

The yelling and arguing among talent, Gigi and Jacy yelling at me and my anger kept the area extremely loud, and I couldn’t hear one person over the other.

Another set of arms wrapped around me, this time slightly tighter, and instead of pulling me straight back, I felt my lower half get lifted as well, and then pulled away from the commotion.

“Basta amore mio! You’ll reinjure yourself—Fermare!” (ts: Enough my love! / Stop!)

Recognizing the Italian, I stopped struggling as much. He put my feet back on the floor, but still held me against his chest. I saw Marcel cupping the side of his face, only looking slightly annoyed.

“Du bist Fertig?” Marcel asked. (ts: You finished?)

“Nein,” I muttered, averting my gaze from his, as I leaned back into Fabian’s chest. (ts: no)

“Mi amore,” Fabian whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of my ear,” Come, let’s talk elsewhere.” (ts: my love)

“Somewhere more quiet,” Marcel frowned at the commotion still going on ten feet behind us. Wordlessly, I nodded, following them down the hall to their locker room. Marcel closed the door behind us, and I softly pried myself from Fabian’s embrace.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours amore?” Fabian asked, sitting down in one of the chairs. (ts: love)

Silence.

“Rede mi tuns… bitte leibling.” (Talk to us / please darling)

“I just—I don’t know!” I frowned, turning away from them as I crossed my arms in front of my chest,” I—I saw them shamelessly flirting with you guys—especially Marcel—and I just—”

“You got jealous,” Fabian finished, a slight smirk on his face.

“Nein,” I muttered under my breath. (ts: no)

“Kleiner…” Marcel drawled out, talking slow steps towards me. (ts: little one)

“Nein,” I repeated, trying more to convince myself then them at this point.

“Leibe, look at me bitte.” (ts: Love / please)

Slowly, I turned around but refused to meet his gaze. Briefly, my eyes met Fabian’s and I saw the soft smile his had on his face, but it only made me feel more ashamed, so I let my gaze fall to the floor. Fingertips traced my jaw down to my chin, before lifting my attention up until I finally met Marcel’s eyes.

His beautiful, captivating blue eyes. Those eyes were the first thing to draw me towards him—just as Fabian’s smile did.

“Liebe… You know I would never cheat on you, right?” (ts: Love)

I nodded slowly.

“Then why all this?”

“I just—I don’t know… I guess… with me not really being out there—maybe… maybe I’m feeling insecure? I mean—they are both, kinda attractive in their own—”

“Nein,” Marcel bit out, his posture tightening slightly before he relaxed,” I can’t speak for Fabian—but you…. You are all I need. All I want. Du bist wunderschon…. Komisch… clever… stark… Perfekt wie du bist.” (ts: no / you are beautiful, funny, smart, strong. Perfect as you are)

“Marcel…” I whispered, my eyes tearing up as I wrapped my arms around his torso and snuggled into him as his wrapped his arms around me, holding me close.

“Si, mi amore,” Fabian agreed,” Marcel and I—back before we all agreed to do this relationship—we both were attracted to you in our own ways. People can come on to us all they want—flirt all they want… but at the end of the day, all we want is you, Principessa.” (ts: Yes, my love / Princess)

“You’ve nothing to be jealous over, we promise,” I heard Marcel assure me, and I glanced up at him.

“I’m sorry I elbowed you in the face,” I frowned, as he looked down at me with a grin.

“Don’t worry about it. You’ve done worse before,” Marcel chuckled, before pressing a kiss to my forehead,” Does your foot hurt any?”

“Hmm? Oh,” I thought, stretching it out a bit and considering, before shaking my head,” No. Doesn’t seem to. Doctor did tell me I should be good to go, but to keep an eye on it for a few weeks.”

“So, you’re cleared to be in the ring again?”

“Not technically, yet anyway. I think they will after my check up tomorrow. Which is good news for me,” I smiled deviously.

“Why’s that, Princepessa?” (ts: princess)

“You heard Jayne. They’ve got a 3-woman tag match next week. It’d be a shame if one of their opponents couldn’t make the match for… any… reason.”

“Questa e’ la nostra ragazza.” (ts: That’s our girl)

“Wir werden zuschauen.” (ts: We will be watching)

“I do hope so,” I smirked,” They’ll learn, one way or another, they’ll learn. You don’t mess with what’s mine.” 

The two Europeans just smiled down at me, before giving me each a breath taking kiss. Next week was a ways away– for now, they started with making me feel beautiful, loved and extra motivated. 

0o0o0o0o

EXTRA MARCEL READJUST GIF -hearteyes- imdying

[sensei-venus]

Random Poly! Alpha!Daniel/Pregnant!Omega!Reader/Alpha!GirlCock!Amanda/Alpha!Johnny

(note that this goes with my au! Where early 2000s Daniel and Amanda work at the dealership but Daniel still teaches at Johnny’s dojo, because Johnny owns his own dojo, because I said so💀🫵)

(Unedited)

“Do you think we should stop them? It's been almost twenty minutes of them fighting like this.”

“Don't worry too much, they will eventually stop. Let them tire themselves out and maybe they will both shut up for the rest of the day.”

Amanda smiled at the omega which made the other woman pout and roll her eyes. They both turned their attention back to the two male alphas that were currently circling one another in the yard. The two were arguing over the lesson plan for the week and who would take on the new schedule.

Johnny growled “I'm the one doing classes this week, I should make the plans.” he grunted as he slammed into Daniel. He tries his best to move the other alpha around with his bigger height and extra weight. Daniel was lucky enough to plant his feet just right and stand his ground.

“No way Johnny, I already made it and promised the kids last week that we would practice this new list of moves. Just because had to go into the dealership this week doesn't mean we have to change up the promised plans. Get over it!” he tried to push his own weight against the bigger alpha. Even with his good footing, Daniel made no effort in moving the blond. They both grunted and huffed. Daniel tries to pick up the blond by the middle once he finds a opening but it only makes them both loss themselves.

They crash to the soft grass and start wrestling on the floor.

Reader can't help but laugh a little at two of her mates. The laughter only stops when she takes in a sharp breath and looks down at her belly.

A hand rests on her large bump. Her belly full and tight with her two pups. Both of which were now kicking up a storm in her womb. She tries her best to rub her belly to try and get the two pups to calm down.

Amanda gives a gentle smile as she watches the omega play with the bump. Her eyes full of joy as she simply watches the woman.

“I'm going to guess that their kicking?”

Reader hums before saying in a soft tone “The doctor said they can hear now. I think they like hearing their sire's voices. Even if they are fighting over something stupid.” she giggles as one of the pups kicks out. Her bump stretches at the kick under her skin and shirt. Amanda puts a hand right on the spot where the pup just kicked. It happens one more time and hits her palm.

“They really are going to town in there.”

“I wish they would give me a break thought. Their using my insides like a punching bag these days. One of them is sitting right on one of my kidneys.” She huffed as one of the twins kicked her. Amanda cuddled into her side and lightly scratched her belly.

She places a small kiss to the bump saying “You two really want attention don't you? Do you think your father's fighting is funny? Huh.” twins slowly started to settle down at her words.

“You think those two will stop any time soon or are we going to be stuck here all day waiting for them to quit their squabbling?” Reader says pointing back to the two men who where still wrestling on the ground. She giggles a little as she watches them roll around.

Amanda rolls her eyes replying back “No idea, but I do know I'm hungry. What do you say we leave these two to their mess and we go get something to eat?” winks with a smile at the omega. The other women perks up at the mention of food. The twins even settle down a bit. Reader claps saying “Can we try that new Italian place over by the county club?? Iv been craving pasta all day, the twins won't stop.” she grins.

Amanda nods as she stands up and helps the poor baby bump round women up. She grunts as she stands up on her own but is ushered away by the alpha.

It took fifteen minutes or the other two alphas to realize the two women where gone.

 

[breitweisergallery]

So, what are you currently working on? besides the idol au (which I am loving so far btw)

Honestly? Mostly I'm just being exhausted and wishing I was writing 😬😬 I've got way too many things on back burners that I keep side-eyeing.

I've got a Vincenzo thing simmering

(Vincenzo knows. Hanseok is sure he knows, that he is Joonwoo, that Joonwoo is he, that they are one and the same. He’s sure that Vincenzo doesn’t have evidence, or Chayoung would have hit him by now. The Italian lawyer seems particularly taken with Hanseok’s plaything.)

Or maybe two...

(He’s barely clinging to the consciousness above the panic, nearly drowning in the efforts to stay focused, to stay alive, when Vincenzo reaches over and tears his shirt enough to clear the space between the device that he had said the name of, and his chest. He’s only just staying afloat in the panic, that it takes a few seconds for him to realise that Vincenzo has frozen, staring at him.) (a soulmate fic? from me? must be joking, i never write soulmate fics)

And I know you've said you don't know anything about some of the other fandoms I'm in, but I've been jumping back and forth between four critical role fics

1. (Or, if Caleb was lucky, Essek would spend a late night working and come to bed late, instead waking with him in the morning. On those days, Caleb allowed himself to rise slower, taking his time leaving the comforts of his bed and his lover.)

2. (The man dropped his disguise first. Tall, square-jawed, with dark hair cut short and a scar across his cheek. Essek noticed none of it first; instead it was that he wore Xhorhasian clothing. The smarter part of him yelled in alarm, that they were living amongst his people and he should warn somebody. His attention was drawn to the woman as her disguise dropped, and he was greeted by a much shorter woman, with sandy hair cut at her chin and sharp eyes. And, most notably, a scar across an entire side of her face, long-time burned and since healed.)

3. (He dreamt of pain. He woke up shaking uncontrollably, sweating profusely. His throat felt raw, like he’d been screaming. His fingers felt unnatural; awake, he would sit and close his fingers into a fist before stretching them out again, over and over. He dreamt of cool hands soothing hair away from his forehead, of murmured sweet words he knew to be a trick. All he could think, in these tortured dreams, was I deserve this. )

4. (Most others hated working Vorastal. To some regard, Bren could understand. It was often boring, with little to do besides watch nearly four thousand of the surviving citizens of what was once the City of Beasts work and occasionally glare at the Imperial forces that remained on watch at the encampment.)

And, of course, as you mentioned. The idol AU.

(“Liar.” 

Woojin turns to face him as Gaon stares him down, his expression a cold neutral. Woojin flinches, not quite making eye contact. Joonwoo’s eyes flit between them; despite his exhaustion, the desire to keep them from fighting wins out and he steps in their line of sight. “Hyung, maybe if I teach you the dance, I’ll do better.”)

(edit) ALSO I KEEP FORGETTING I SIGNED UP FOR A BINGO AND THE CARD IS JUST SITTING IN MY ASKS AHHHH

[jinsai-ish]

I've gone in this before and I'll go on it again: the US has plenty of problems but one of the things I love about this country is the diversity.

I love walking out of my small Taekwondo studio where the teacher is a former Olympian married to a woman who was born in India. I love that the other mother who practices with me has henna stains in her fingertips. I love that the woman in front of me is telling her kids in Urdu to put their shoes on and that the man on the bench is speaking on his phone in Ukrainian.

I love that my son's closest friends are named Avinash, Joaquin, Janelle, Ronan, Harrison, Aarat, Dominic, and Anne... And that Anne was born in China.

Despite the current circumstances, I love that my neighbor across the street is from Israel and that my son has the Jewish high holidays off from school. I love that the Lunar New Year is also now an official school holiday, as is Juneteenth. I love that my boss is from Guyana. I love that the new hot pot restaurant is hopping.

I don't love that the Italian festival, Greek festival, and Guyanese festival were all on the same day so I couldn't go to all of them!

I love that the house down the street flies two Italian flags and one American one. I love that my former coworker never failed to invite me to his tribe's pow wow and that succotash was always on our school menu. I love the sheer amount of Irish flags everywhere, that every year the Sikh temple has a tent at our community festival and teaches how to tie turbans. I love that my son's dentist is a ridiculously handsome Korean man (no, seriously, even my husband was like 'damn'). I even love my absolutely ridiculous Viking of a husband who is as fucking white bread as they come.

I love that this is in a suburb of a small city and lots of other places have more diversity than we do.

When I lived in Japan, everyone was Japanese, except for exchange students and ALTs. Everyone spoke Japanese. Don't get me wrong, I love Japan.

But if there's one thing that I will rant on about the US in a positive way it's that, despite everything, we're all here.

[oftatteredwings]

⸻  MILO VENTIMIGLIA. HE/HIM / have you ever heard of DREAMING WITH A BROKEN HEART by john mayer, well, it describes MARCO RICCI to a tee! the 43 year old, and OWNER AND HEAD CHEF AT RICCI’S was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say  HE is more untrusting or more DETERMINED instead? anyway, they remind me of early morning wake-ups and late nights with a glass of wine, careful precision, an empty bed the sheets already cold, worn in leather jackets and sneaking a cigarette out back in the freezing cold maybe you’ll bump into them soon!

time in notting hill ; 17 years (& 6 months in 1997)

tw: cancer, death

ABOUT.

Name: Marco Andrea Ricci Age: Forty-three DoB: December 31st 1979 Occupation: Owner and Head Chef at Ricci’s Sexual/romantic orientation: Bisexual/biromantic Birthplace: Santa Barbara, California Current Location: Notting Hill, London, UK Time in Notting Hill: 6 months in 1997, returned March 2006

Born and raised in Santa Barbara to a very Italian father and a not so Italian mother.

His entire family was completely obsessed with food, that’s literally how his parents met.

Marco, much to his father’s dismay, wasn’t interested when he was a kid and was in love with the ocean.

He spent every day on the beach, started surfing as soon as he was old enough to, and took a keen interest in the local marine life.

His family up and moved to London 6 months before his high school graduation and opened a restaurant in Little Italy. To say Marco was pissed was an understatement. He basically refused to make an effort and got to know literally no one during that time.

Headed back to the US and went to California State to study marine biology. Some bitch broke his heart while he was there and he’s had commitment issues ever since.

Next was San Diego and a job at Seaworld for 5 years, which is when he basically became Henry Roth from 50 First Dates.

Got called back to London by his mom to take over the running of the family restaurant ‘cause his dad was sick and his siblings were too young to. Didn’t want to but couldn’t say no to the most important woman in his life sobbing down the phone. Did that for around 6 months.

Took a job at the Sea Life London Aquarium .

Realised he actually was interested in cooking after all and his dad basically became his mentor for several years. He did some business management courses at a local college while his dad was teaching him everything he knew, fully intent on opening his own place.

In around 2014 he opened Ricci’s in Notting Hill, a high end Italian restaurant, and basically put his entire life into the place.

Attempted and failed rather epicly to have a relationship again during a visit to see family in Italy, so gave up again pretty quickly.

In 2018 Ricci’s was awarded a Michelin star.

Early 2019 his dad got sick again, but this time there was nothing that could be done. Cancer, caught much too late that resulted in his death around 8 months later.

Marco’s currently trying to put the whole family back together again… while working himself into the ground because he doesn’t know how to do anything else. He’s been determined to earn another star, but family issues are definitely getting in the way of any kind of momentum to work toward that.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

Younger Siblings (0/2): Between 28 and 35.

Cousins:

The college girlfriend AKA the bitch that ruined him:

I really tried this time: Aurelia Zhang

It’s complicated:

Past FWB:

Best friend/confidant:

Close friends:

Childhood/school friends from Santa Barbara:

LA college friends (1998-2000):

Friends from San Diego (2000-2006):

Acquaintances:

Hook-ups/summer romances:

Regular customers at the restaurant:

People met through the business:

Colleagues: 

Business rivals:  

[grandhotelabyss]

Hm, an Anglican, the son of a Catholic convert, and a Catholic convert. Isn’t the advantage of being Italian that you can drink from the pure well of the Church undefiled? 

I am the child of Italian immigrants, reared and educated in the Church but also in the more pagan milieu of Catholicism as actually practiced by people who had come down to America out of the stony hills of Abruzzo where even in the middle 20th century electricity had not arrived and the serpent-goddess Angitia still rode as a rumor on the wind. Like the controversial Camille Paglia, whom I started reading in my teens and instantly understood, I believe this pagan bedrock—or not bedrock but watery womb—to be the true advantage of my Catholic education and am suspicious of the mere moralism of the Anglo convert, the seeker after some stable truth beyond the petty purlieus of English empiricism—itself culturally appealing to me as a longtime student and even teacher of British literature, a domestic anarchism that rises right out of the earth, trailing roots and soil, whether in Chaucer or Shakespeare, Wordsworth or Hardy, Lawrence or Forster.

But, while Scruton and Tolkien mean nothing to me, I do like Chesterton. I’ve never read his fiction, though, give or take a Father Brown story. Just the magisterial Orthodoxy, the biography of fleshy Aquinas subtitled The Dumb Ox, and the underrated literary criticism, those pocket-sized panegyrics on Chaucer, Blake, Dickens. Would The Man Who Was Thursday—subtitled A Nightmare—be a good book to read for Halloween? I think I have a copy somewhere amid all the printed matter in this apartment.

Ironically, as Giorgia Meloni cites Chesterton the better to thunder against contemporary gender ideology, I found Chesterton through Gaiman’s Sandman, where he appears ruddy cheek by rouged jowl with all the appealingly drawn gay and trans characters. Like the currently besieged rulers of Iran, Chesterton would, I suspect, not be unfriendly to binary transgenderism as it retains the separateness and hallowedness of the two sexes. He might scorn radical feminism and genderfluidity alike, on the other hand, as vitiating this metaphysical distinction. He identified Blake as a gnostic; wouldn’t he say the same about a woman who inspired Blake: the founding feminist Wollstonecraft? In the derogatory parlance of the Tumblr trans activist, he would be a truscum, not a TERF; it is Hunter Schafer, not Giorgia Meloni, who ought to be declaiming his words from a dais. To add woman to man might, anyway, be redundant, if we believe this memorable passage from Orthodoxy:

The man who lives in contact with what he believes to be a living Church is a man always expecting to meet Plato and Shakespeare to-morrow at breakfast. He is always expecting to see some truth that he has never seen before. There is one only other parallel to this position; and that is the parallel of the life in which we all began. When your father told you, walking about the garden, that bees stung or that roses smelt sweet, you did not talk of taking the best out of his philosophy. When the bees stung you, you did not call it an entertaining coincidence. When the rose smelt sweet you did not say “My father is a rude, barbaric symbol, enshrining (perhaps unconsciously) the deep delicate truths that flowers smell.” No: you believed your father, because you had found him to be a living fountain of facts, a thing that really knew more than you; a thing that would tell you truth to-morrow, as well as to-day. And if this was true of your father, it was even truer of your mother; at least it was true of mine, to whom this book is dedicated. Now, when society is in a rather futile fuss about the subjection of women, will no one say how much every man owes to the tyranny and privilege of women, to the fact that they alone rule education until education becomes futile: for a boy is only sent to be taught at school when it is too late to teach him anything. The real thing has been done already, and thank God it is nearly always done by women. Every man is womanised, merely by being born.

Giorgia, they tell us, is a fascist. But until the liberal center is willing to do anything serious about the economic and social dislocation its preferred policies cause—the hollowed-out industrial core, the metastasis of bureaucracy, the reduction of all culture to calculus, empire’s blown-back brutality—we will continue to lose sympathy for its partisans as they find themselves beset by fascists and communists and reply with little better than moralist bromides. Loyal to the liberalism that sheltered my immigrant forebears as well as to the non-liberal mystique they carried with them across the Atlantic, I have made my own humble proposals—so far, alas, ignored.

[iyla-difransisco]

For people who need a bit of help with my family tree situation:

My biological family, in Italy, had three parenrs and four children in total; and we all served different roses

Bryaxis Hartwell DiFransisco — currently twenty four, the eldest. Tactical genius, marksman, scientist. He married our cousin Lorelei Hartwell and became Lord Hartwell through her. He’s the smart one and the special one. He can be gentle, but he has mood swings.

Aria Olympia Mary DiFransisco — my twin sister. She died before our sixteenth birthday. She’s the damsel in distress. She was born blind, and because of how life was at La Chiesa Nera, she only ever learned braille and that was it. Her role was the tragic beauty, and she looked the most like our mother — blond hair, green eyes. We shared a room her entire life and a lot of people just knew us as the DiFransisco Twins, because we were always together

Me(Iyla Catalina DiFransisco Romanoff-Danvers) — I’m sixteen, my role was the heir to the DiFransisco title and estate and the protector. I’ve been trained as a knight since I was six and served under HYDRA in a specific set of situations, overarchingly executions or entertainment. My father didn’t let me go in the field, so I lack a lot of experience. I look like my father; I have his dark hair and hazel eyes. That’s part of why I’m the one who is the heir — I look like him and I think like him when he needed me to. He made me the Dark Knightess. I escaped a bit over a month ago and am living with my Mumma(@nevaeh-daughterofvalcarol) and Amma(@azalea-romanoff), hence the Romanoff-Danvers addition

Cecily Marian DiFransico — she’s the youngest child, age seven. Sweet, kind, carefree, never seen death. She was four when Mamma left and has spent most of her life on my hip, my back, or clinging to my skirts. She’s a sweetheart; blond hair, hazel eyes, her role is the golden child(slightly different than Aria’s role)

Mio Padre; Count Leonardo Angelo DiFransisco — he’s the patriarch. He’s a genius, albeit eccentric. He created La Chiesa Nera as a fantasy world in the Italian mountains and is a major HYDRA lord. I left, but he never hurt us physically.

Mamma, Elizabette DiFransisco — we don’t know much about her, she didn’t know herself to tell us. She was a Black Widow until mio padre fell in love with her and bargained for her freedom. She had a lot of problems but she taught us to be resilient and hold up under anything. She left six years ago after her lover was killed but I have a pretty good case that my father killed her.

Mamma Gabi(Lady Gabrielle) — my Mamma’s lover, who was a sweet woman who loved sweets and painting and taught me embroidery. She was killed after Papá found out about he and Mamma’s relationship by firing squad. I was a part of said firing squad.

The family I’m finding:

Amma; Azalea Romanoff — daughter of Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff, you probably know her. She’s sweet and badass and is teaching me to fight with daggers

Mumma; Nevaeh Danvers-Valkyriedottir?maybe? I don’t think she ever told me what combination of last names she’s using — anyways: daughter of King Valkyrie and Carol Danvers, general, love her. She’s teaching me to fight in a combat situation

Jonny<3 — he’s three, he’s my little brother, I love him to bits. He likes my flowers and is a shapeshifter, really likes being carried around on my back

[richardsphere]

Richards Leverage Log: The Big Bang Job

Currently half-way through the two part finale, I'm technically a little bit into the San Lorenzo job. (only far enough to pick up on the fact that Parker actually understands the con's which Sophie is name-dropping now. Because as aforementioned, this show has given me a bad case of "cannot put it down"-syndrome.

----

Side Note: There is no way that this show ends with anything but Nate and Sophie retiring leading the "younger" three to inherit the business. Not saying it happens this season, but Nate and Sophie are both the "old hand" characters, and I diagnose them both with a case of Chronic "one last job". So I'm making a prediction: When the team splits and the "leads" retire, Parker is the new boss. (I know, its not a big prediction for media made today but for a show that started in 08, i think that having the "heir" be the woman would've been rather progressive for the era. I really hope they actually follow-through on this but i cant be certain cause the show originally started 15 years ago and sexism isn't fixed now let alone a decade ago.)

So yeah the way that Parker's already the inheritor of the Archie "greatest thief in the world", the way her arc is about her learning to recognize what the right thing is and growing to look for the "right thing" , the way that while Elliot and Hardison both occasionally inquire "can you do this" of each-other but Parker is the only one asking "why cant you" when the answer is no or asking "how did you" with notable frequency. The way both Nate and Sophie have at various points taken her under wing to teach her their part of the job. (Sophie teaching her how to read people for conning-purposes in the Underground job is a good example). They're priming her.

I'm staking my flag that Parker is at least intended to be Nate's replacement when he retires (whether living or...) in the final finale. (whether studio interference prevents the show from actually making her the one in charge... I hope not but studio's are known to mess with these things)

------

but asides aside, first time the show actually does a real season-long story-arc... Ending on having Moreau framed for the Italian's crimes (does she have a name? Nobody knows) feels like they're trying to make the Italian into Sterling V2 (cant be taken down only taken up where they cant bother us). I think Sterling has more charisma and personality though. Like the Italian is too many questions, not enough answers. She's got "employers" we don't know whereas we know what Sterling wants (to be an asshole, get good press, and generally be promoted into higher and higher offices until he eventually runs the everything)

----

I don't know how i feel about the EMP thing, i guess it was planted and seeded with the Carjacker episode and the return of the EMP-gun in the christmass special, but it feels weird. I guess its mostly just the way the EMP works differently in both those "seeding" episodes ("EMP fries the cars for 30 min, but they're still functioning afterwards" being a crucial plot-point in the car-salesman episode, but in the Chaos 2 Christmas Special it fries the car and makes it perma-busted to the point it's low-level treated like the death of a character) makes it feel like, if you're gonna seed it into the season. Seed it consistently so your audience actually knows how EMP's truly work?

Like this is basic "Magic A is Magic A" type stuff. The point of seeding a finale-crucial type of technology through the season is to make the audience familiar with what it is, what it does and How it does it. And I think the 2 previous EMP uses in S3 are too mutually contradictory to truly serve that purpose.

---

Elliot's "its personal" with Moreau feels right, but also like it could've used 1 more foreshadowing moment.

---

Is the team supposed to be in a personal relationship with Bonanno? Like i get he's their designated Jim Gordon (the DC character, not the musician) but it feels like too many of the episodes take place out of Bonanno's jurisdiction for him to work as a Gordon figure (seriously, does this guy have jurisdiction over the crimes Moreau is being framed with? Like it feels like we're handing it to him, he'll hand it to the FBI, who hands it to Interpol because Bonanno does not have "international smuggling" jurisdiction only much more local "ordered a hit on a guy" jurisdiction...)

Like Bonanno is technically a recurring cast member, but he only ends up arresting the "gangs and thugs", never the big-shots. It feels like those 2 FBI guy's are more Gordon then Bonanno is at this point cause the FBI has broader jurisdiction, arrests more high-level figures and the "Sweetens is crushing on Agent Haagen Dazs" joke necessitates that the team interacts with them directly.

I guess Nate met Bonanno's family once at the end of last season, but there is a lack of personal interaction that feels off to me.

----

In conclusion, good enough season finale. (the matrix-style knee-slide was a bit much tbh, but they needed a good set-piece moment for Elliot and its hard to keep fighting set-pieces "realistically grounded")

Hardison's set-piece (dismantling a version of his own baby) worked enough, and i guess you could argue its a Parker moment as well but it doesn't feel like it. (is jumping onto the train meant to be the Parker Moment? Cause it feels more like a "Hardison doesn't love the action-stuff" joke then a "Parker is badass" moment.

Maybe Parker will have her Badass Thief moment in the second half of the S3 finale.

Nate's badass moment is of course the Framing Moreau with the Italians Crime speech. Which works. Sophie didn't get to do much grifting in this one.

So lets hope the San Lorenzo Job, while inevitably giving Nate his once-an-episode Denouement-type moment, also gives Sophie and Parker their Big Moments. So, High level Impersonation/neurolinguistic thingy and a Laser-grid. (presumably the laser-grid hides his Back Up Cash, and the neuro-linguistic stuff to trick him into doing something that makes him wanted in the his extradition-proof shelter)

[biglisbonnews]

A Hidden Caravaggio Masterpiece, An Inheritance Feud, and a Roman Villa up for Sale This story was originally published on The Conversation and appears here under a Creative Commons license. I teach Italian Renaissance and Baroque art, so when I was visiting Rome in January, how could I not try to see a notorious villa that was up for sale and involved in a nasty inheritance dispute? The Villa Aurora, named for the masterful fresco by the 17th-century artist Guercino that adorns the ground-floor salon, also happens to house a rare ceiling painting by Caravaggio, the 17th-century “rebel artist,” whose name makes the art market salivate. I wanted to see the Caravaggio, and not just because its assessed value of US$331 million drove up the estimated price for the villa, apparently scaring off buyers. Perhaps because of the difficulty in reproducing the work or even viewing it, the Caravaggio has received remarkably little attention from art historians. The villa, which has gone through five failed auctions—the first one asking a cool $502 million—needs maintenance, and Italian law dictates that the Caravaggio and other art cannot be removed. It is not easy to see privately held art, and given the ongoing controversy, I figured my chances were especially slim. But I duly wrote to the email address I found online. A week later I got a response, and after some back and forth, on the day before I was to leave Rome, I was invited to come to the villa at 6 p.m. sharp. A woman named Olga met me at the door: “The principessa will be with you in a moment,” she said. The current inhabitant of the villa is an American-born princess named Rita Boncompagni Ludovisi. A former Texas GOP opposition researcher, she was once married to a congressman caught in the Abscam scandal and posed for Playboy twice in the 1980s. Her second husband, Nicolò Boncampagni Ludovisi, was Prince of Piombino. He owned the villa and promised her usufructuary rights, meaning she should be allowed to occupy the villa until her death. But the prince’s three sons from his first marriage are forcing the sale because, according to Italian law, inheritances must be divided between the surviving spouse and any descendants. It’s a media story to die for: old-world aristocrats face off against a supposed bimbo and gold digger from Texas—with a Caravaggio thrown in for good measure. The villa was historically known as the Casino Ludovisi, but it became famous among art historians for its ceiling painting by Guercino. In a tour de force of illusion, the ceiling is painted to look as through the architecture opens up to the sky with the goddess Aurora, or Dawn, driving her chariot across the space above. The Caravaggio, by contrast, barely registers in the voluminous scholarship on the artist. I looked down in dismay at my sneakers, my corduroy pants, and my purple Eddie Bauer jacket that has seen better days: I hadn’t anticipated meeting the principessa herself. Olga guided me into a second room and introduced me to the principessa. She is most definitely American – tall, blond and looking much younger than her age of 73. After talking extensively about the villa and its works of art, Rita, as she calls herself, introduced me to a dapper Italian man from the Ministry of Culture, whom, she explained, could hopefully stop her imminent eviction from her home. She then showed me the magnificent painting by Guercino. Then a journalist from the Italian newspaper La Stampa appeared, and the principessa was whisked away for an interview. She told me, in parting, “Olga will show you the Caravaggio.” Olga led me up a spiral stairway to the second floor: “Here is the other Guercino,” she said. I looked up to see a second illusionistic fresco, the same size as the one on the ground floor, this one depicting the figure of Fame flying through the sky. I hadn’t known this one even existed. Then Olga turned on the lights in what looked like a small hallway, its walls painted a bright, hospital white. I looked up to see Caravaggio’s painting, which depicts muscular nude men surrounding a translucent white globe. The detail is intense, the colors bright and sharp in a way that is exceptional for a ceiling painting. Caravaggio managed to make the three-headed dog Cerberus look as though it really existed, bringing to life the creature’s soft black and white fur, the red of its eyes, the pink ribbing of one upper mouth and the white glint of its teeth. I later learned that the picture had not been painted in the traditional fresco technique, on wet plaster, but with the unusual application of oil on dry plaster, allowing Caravaggio to execute the precision, color, detail, and texture. Although some art historians have questioned the attribution, there is no doubt in my mind that this is Caravaggio. Only he would—even could—paint such a seemingly plausible Cerberus. The composition works only in its original location, since the scale, height and curvature of the ceiling transform the work. The painting purports to show a rectangular opening in the ceiling through which viewers can see the sky and clouds. In the center, within a white globe depicting the universe, one sees the Sun, Moon and signs of the horoscope. On each side of the globe are the nude, burly he-men: on one side, Jupiter, awkwardly flying through the sky on an eagle, pushes the sphere; on the other, Jupiter’s brothers, Pluto and Neptune, stand as if at the edge of the opening in the ceiling, looking down. Perhaps Caravaggio did this for his friend and patron as a kind of joke. Given its lack of scholarly attention, the Caravaggio is much more compelling than I expected. One 17th-century biographer, Pietro Bellori, claimed that Caravaggio painted the work to silence critics who alleged that he lacked the technical skill to pull off the tricks in perspective required for ceiling art. But I think Caravaggio was up to something more complicated. His aim was not so much to prove he could paint with foreshortened figures and receding architecture, but rather to make fun of the fad for illusionistic ceiling paintings that render scenes “as if seen from below”—“di sotto in su,” as it is termed in art history. Running with the concept of “di sotto in su,” Caravaggio cheekily gives onlookers a graphic view from below of Pluto’s penis and testicles, not to mention a novel perspective on his buttocks. Caravaggio didn’t stop there. Jupiter’s pose is almost incomprehensible, his face concealed, his limbs flailing in different directions—very undignified, particularly for an oversize Olympian god. It’s an NFL linebacker riding an overmatched eagle. From between Jupiter’s legs emerges the very phallic long neck and beak of the eagle with his bright, dark eye glaring down at the mortals below. (In Italian, “bird” is slang for penis.) Pluto and Neptune also have their pets, which are themselves rivals: Pluto’s snarling dog frightens Neptune’s seahorse. Neptune, who is Caravaggio’s self-portrait, in turn looks threateningly at Pluto. And then there is the juxtaposition of Cerberus’ bared teeth and Pluto’s very exposed “equipment.” When I consider the patronage of the painting, it all makes sense. Caravaggio painted the ceiling in 1599 or 1600, when the villa was owned by his first important patron, Cardinal Francesco del Monte. Caravaggio lived in del Monte’s palace in town, and there is evidence to suggest that they both enjoyed the company of young men, and they may even have been lovers. While it is difficult to confirm the men’s sexual preferences, there is no question that the ceiling is a product of their shared sensibility: locker room art for sophisticated, 17th-century cultural “jocks.” The room was Del Monte’s “studiolo,” a type of small room usually used by members of the wealthy elite to get away from it all and “study” (whatever that might entail). The ceiling was to be shared by a bon vivant, learned cardinal with a select audience of like-minded men. Caravaggio never painted another ceiling because tricks of perspective were fundamentally incompatible with his realist inclinations, but perhaps he did this one for his friend and patron as a kind of joke. I left the Villa Aurora that night with a new perspective on 17th-century art and full of thoughts about the role these works of art, created for members of an extraordinarily privileged elite of the past, play in our modern democratic society. The same day as my visit, the judge in the inheritance dispute ruled that the principessa would be evicted from the villa to facilitate its sale. I suspect this is devastating for her, given how much effort she has put into preserving her husband’s legacy. But I also wonder what will happen to this villa and its unique collection of 16th- and 17th-century ceiling paintings. I think it would be a travesty for them to remain in private hands, because everyone, including my students, should be able to see these works. Art historians know about the tensions between private property and cultural heritage, but this is a real opportunity for the new Italian Minister of Culture, Gennaro Sangiuliano, to set an example, as his predecessors have done with the Palazzo Grimani at Santa Formosa in Venice. Once the residence of a wealthy and powerful noble family, Palazzo Grimani fell into disrepair until it was purchased in 1981 by the state. After many years of renovation, it opened as a public museum in 2008. The frescoes in the Palazzo Grimani are not nearly as artistically significant as those in the Villa Aurora, but the museum today is one of the most interesting monuments in Venice. I believe the Villa Aurora, restored and open to everyone as a museum of Renaissance and Baroque ceiling painting, could do the same for Rome. Monika Schmitter is a professor and chair of History of Art and Architecture at UMass Amherst. https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/caravaggio-art-hidden-villa-aurora

[mrs-gucci]

Firefighter!Maurizio Gucci for Sunday Funday

anonymous

Firefighter x Maurizio Gucci x needs a volunteer during fire safety course. (He would be such a cute firefighter 😂 )

oh my god, I love this! he would be such an adorable firefighter!! I love it.

warnings. FLUFF, he’s a shy boi, Mau teaches a fire safety/CPR class, he does some fake CPR on you, and some fake mouth-to-mouth😏, but yeah that’s pretty much it. no use of ‘Y/N’ in this fic.

no tw’s.

word count: 629

You've never, ever been so concentrated in fire and CPR safety than you are today. In your defense, however, most of the girls in the class are also hyper-focused.

And the instructor is a fucking Italian fireman. A fucking ITALIAN FIREMAN!!

He’s young and incredibly handsome, but he’s super shy, which you find so endearing. He’s freaking adorable. 

Currently, he’s doing a lecture on CPR basics and you honestly haven’t heard a damn word of it. You’re much too busy paying attention to his plush pink lips and his rich accent.

You’re so entranced, in fact, that you don’t even realized that he’s picked you to participate in a little demonstration. Your friend gives you a nudge and when you come to, he’s looking at you with a small smile. Maurizio waves you down to the front.

“Come on then, yes? Will you help me?”

You nod and get up quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly, feeling the envious glares from the fellow girls in the class as you make your way up to the front of the classroom.

God, he’s even more handsome up close. And huge. So tall and so broad, jesus...

“Will you lay down on the board for me, please?” He asks, gesturing to the stretcher on the floor.

You do as he says, laying down. Maurizio kneels down beside you and begins talking about more ‘assessing the situation’ stuff. Your eyes linger on him as he talks to the class. 

His cheeks turn pink as he feels your gaze on him, but he tries to stay focused on the task at hand. 

“So, after you’ve made sure everything’s safe, you want to assess the person. Are they breathing? Are they responsive?”

He shyly checks your pulse on the side of your neck and on your wrist, then pretends to shake you gently to see if you’re responsive. When you’re not, he walks everyone through the steps of CPR. 

Of course, it gets a bit awkward when he has to actually show CPR, considering you’re a woman with breasts and the area in which CPR is performed is right between the breasts.

Maurizio immediately regrets picking the prettiest girl for this demonstration and his cheeks burn as he carefully hovers his hand over your sternum. His hands are so close to your breasts and his mouth is almost watering at the prospect of possibly brushing against them--

“You would press your hands here, like this.” He says, cutting his thoughts off before they spiral out of control. “And do your reps. Then...”

Shit. Mouth-to-mouth.

Your cheeks warm when you realize what comes next. He seems to be in a similar situation as he gently places a finger on the bottom of your chin and tilts your head back.

“Now, you need to do mouth-to-mouth.”

He says it almost as if he’s reminding himself of what he needs to do in this moment. He leans down slightly so that he’s looking directly down at you, face hovering over yours.

“You will need to hold open her nostrils and make sure her mouth is open, too. Have one hand holding her nostrils open, and the other on her chin holding her jaw open.”

His hands carefully rests his hands on the sides of your nose and on your chin briefly to demonstrate, then leans down a bit closer. His lips are nearly on yours, eyes staring deeply into yours before he suddenly pulls away, leaving you absolutely breathless.

Shit.

The demonstration is soon over and you sit up, still feeling a bit dizzy from the almost mouth-to-mouth as you walk back to your seat. All the girls are seething with envy and you can’t help but smirk to yourself.

You’re definitely looking forward to next week’s lesson.

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[rukia-writes]

Sugar daddy! Askeladd x college student! (Fem) Reader

Plot: Being Askeladd’s sugar baby is a hassle but an adventure. But at the end of the day Askeladd always treats his sugar baby like a princess.

Setting: modern au

Warnings: no minors 🔞, smut, rough sex, , daddy kink, two sex scenes, dirty (filth) talk, breeding kink (slightly), language, sugar daddy x sugar baby relationship, jealous sex (Slightly protective Askeladd)

Nervous.

The sweet college student was nervously in a home that she had been staying in for a little over year now. The home was quite beautiful and was in the upscale area of the city.

However, that wasn’t why she was nervous.

“You failed one of your exams.”

“Yes-but I still passed the class.”

Grimacing at the word “fail” (Name) tried to make the situation better as her sugar daddy looked at a piece of paper that her grades on it, his blue eyes looked up from the paper to his sweet sugar baby that had won him over. Askeladd had to admit she was beautiful and she was smart, and it was just one exam.

“Do better next time.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

Askeladd heard the sigh of relief leave her as she promised to do better in her classes, no doubt the sigh of relief was because she thought Askeladd would cut off all finances as it was his policy.

“You sound relieved.”

“I am, I thought for sure you would discipline me.”

“No need, it’s not that serious.”

Askeladd gave the paper back as he walked in the kitchen with (Name) following close behind followed by her clearing her throat. Looking behind him he saw her smiling at him while batting her eyelashes with a smile.

“What’s with that look?”

“Well, I don’t want to be a bother but…you haven’t given me monthly allowance yet.”

The sweetness of her voice made Askeladd smirk as he thought it was cute how she asked for her monthly allowance. Even though she should have been used to it by now, still Askeladd scratched his chin and tilted his head back. This only caused (Name) to worry.

“Didn’t I just give you..what was it. That Italian car..”

“..Your Lamborghini? That doesn’t count-that was a gift. Remember? You said “This is my gift to you.”…before you..you know.”

(Name) then became bashful as she looked down at the ground at the thought of what happened afterwards, Askeladd smirked in a teasing manner as he played as though he forgot.

“I seemed to have forgot. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“It’s not important. My allowance please.”

“Allowance? Never heard of it. What’s that?”

Askeladd continue to act as though he had no idea what (Name) was talking about as he poured himself something to drink. Pouting (Name) knew this would happen as Askeladd did this every time she asked for her allowance.

“Come on, you know what I’m talking about. I need it for the bills.”

“I have them too (Name). And I believe a certain college student has been getting rather spoiled with all the trips lately.”

“You told me to do that!”

Askeladd heard (Name) shout at him shocked he said such a lie, chuckling the handsome sugar daddy downed the beer he took out refrigerator as explained how important it was. Still Askeladd continued to play as he walked to his room now with (Name) following close behind until she sat on his bed and smiled.

“Fine then, I’ll just find another daddy to spoil me.”

“No one can spoil you like I can baby and that’s a fact.”

(Name) was taken back by Askeladd’s words as he was quick and blunt, it kindly turned her on and Askeladd knew this as he was close finishing his beer and gave a slight chuckle.

“You want your money huh? I’ll do it now, that’ll satisfy you.”

Watching (Name) saw Askeladd take out his phone and tap the screen a few times before her cellphone vibrated in her pocket as she then looked at the screen and saw Askeladd had made the deposit and had actually gave her a bit more than usual.

“Thank you, but you didn’t have to give me so much.”

“Oh, but I did. For the amazing time you gave me in my office last week.”

Askeladd chuckled as he remembered how amazing his sugar baby sucked his cock while in his office, it was against work policy but Askeladd couldn’t help it. (Name) was so bashful as she motioned for Askeladd to come her with her index finger. Not one for denying his sugar baby Askeladd obliged and before long he was in between his sugar baby’s legs.

In truth, (Name) was more than just Askeladd’s sugar baby she was practically a princess, his princess.

It wasn’t long before Askeladd had her legs on his shoulders with him ontop of her fucking her with his cock buried balls deep inside her while his sugar baby was simply enjoying the feel of Askeladd’s cock.

Askeladd watched (Name)’s breasts move up and down that matched his thrusts as he fucked her how she wanted. Askeladd was enjoying himself as he would tell her “Good girl. Good fucking girl.” While repeatedly lightly patting her cheek, moaning a “fuck” when he felt her needy cunt squeeze around his cock that was already leaking cum inside her.

(Name) was in a world of her own as her mind was blank as the only thing she cared about was Askeladd’s cock, her toes curling was something she didn’t know she doing until much later. Soon enough, (Name) was thanking Askeladd saying “Thank you, for the cock.” Askeladd felt his ego rise as he continued to mercilessly fuck his sugar baby on his bed, muttering a response of simply “Anytime.”

Before long, Askeladd heard his sugar baby mutter a “right there, daddy” a button that she knew if Askeladd heard she wouldn’t hear the end of it and after a year of denying her kink she finally said it. Smirking Askeladd stopped his thrusts completely as he watched and heard (Name) practically beg him to keep going but refused as he kept his cock still.

“Say it agin.”

“Again?”

“Oh? I thought you wanted my cock? Don’t want it anymore?”

Askeladd teased again as his right hand went to her throat, he didn’t press he just placed his hand there.

“I do-I ..I fuck me daddy.”

(Name) was emberassed but the lust had completely set in and she just wanted to be fucked again. Askeladd wasn’t pleased and he wanted to hear her say it more and he was going to as he continued the pace it once was. Like before, (Name) was in Askeladd’s hands once more and he was able to make her call him daddy. Everytime she would say his name instead of “daddy” he threatened to slow his pace down, thinking to himself he would teach her what he wanted hear to say while she took his cock.

The thought sent Askeladd into a blind lust that he moaned a dragged out “I’ll fill you up with my cum.” And “I’ll cum into your sweet pussy until I can’t anymore, princess.” Askeladd wasn’t loud but he wasn’t quiet either as he heard (Name) whimper and almost cry “Yes daddy” whenever he spoke.

Askeladd’s hands were now on her waist and he tilted his head back as his thrusts became erratic and wild as though it didn’t matter how many times he thrusted inside of her it wasn’t enough.

“Askel-daddy I’m going to cum if you keep this up!”

“That’s what I want, princess.”

Askeladd replied back as he was just using (Name)’s body for his own pleasure now as he never felt so good in any woman. A college student who needed his help was what Askeladd had fallen for even though that wasn’t part of the deal. Nonetheless, Both reached their orgasm in a rush as the pleasure ran thru their veins as (Name) felt Askeladd’s cock twitch with excitement as his cum filled her cunt so much she wasn’t for sure when her sugar daddy would stop.

“So good.”

Both stated at the same time as they tried to catch their breath.

A few days later, (Name) was at the bank with her mother doing her monthly bills as she talked to everyone at the bank. More like, everyone talked to her as she was friendly with everyone and everyone loves to see her. (Name) was currently at the receptionist desk writing a expensive check for her mother since she didn’t believe doing online banking.

The receptionist was just going to take the check but was stopped by a familiar CEO, who saw (Name) and her mother come in. It was a man by the name of Roald who had just recently become friends with (Name) telling the sweet receptionist that he would deposit the check instead, which was fine with her as she wanted to take a break.

It was also a good thing he did arrive because the check was to above what she could deposit and needed a boss anyway.

“Why are you depositing all this money?”

“It’s my mother’s birthday today and I wanted to do something nice.”

Roald looked at (Name) then back to the check then back to her before finally going ahead and depositing the check by running it thru a small machine. In the mean time the two talked and joked with each other. Roald did flirt with her, (Name) was sweet and good looking girl but she never lead him on or would reject him if he asked for a date.

He was a bit persistent.

“(Name), sweetie. I wanted you to meet my friend.”

(Name) heard her mother call for her and tap her on the shoulder turning around (Name) wasn’t expecting to see Askeladd and a beautiful woman beside him. (Name) felt her blood run cold as her sugar daddy was right in front of her.

“This is my friend, Lydia and her son Askeladd. I just met the young man today.”

“It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Lydia and this is my son Askeladd.”

The woman stuck out her hand for (Name) to shake and she did with a smile even though she was nervous. Askeladd on the other hand, found this all amusing. Who would have thought their mothers had known each other for 4 years now, that was what Askeladd had found out.

“Since it’s your birthday today why don’t we all go out for lunch. My treat.”

Lydia offered with a sweet smile as (Name)’s mother took her up on her offer making (Name) nervous as she looked at Askeladd who was still calm about everything as a matter of fact the man offered to pay for dinner instead of Lydia which both women enjoyed even more and before they left nearly the whole bank waved (Name)’s mother goodbye.

When the two arrived at a high end restaurant (Name)’s mother was so relieved to get out the car as she had never been in a sports car, much less a luxury sports car that was just too fast for her. Lydia checked on her by rubbing her back, a little chuckle left (Name) as she did drive a bit fast. But her smirk disappeared once she heard Lydia’s voice.

“That car looks like my son’s old car.”

(Name) almost froze as she saw Lydia look at her car, however Askeladd mentioned that (Name) must have great taste when she got the car and Lydia agreed. The whole thing made (Name) nervous as she was having breakfast not only with her sugar daddy but his mother and hers as well, this wasn’t what (Name) was expecting when she woke up this morning.

As the two mothers talked and had their tea while sitting beside each other, Askeladd was sitting beside her at the table. From what (Name) could tell Askeladd seemed to be calm but when the two women were too enamored in their conversation he placed his hand on her thigh getting her attention.

“Did you have fun at the bank this morning?”

“I wouldn’t say fun.”

“Really? You seemed happy with that one fellow.”

Fellow.

(Name) knew from the tone of Askeladd’s voice that he wasn’t too thrilled about seeing her talking with a handsome man, much less one with just as much influence as he had.

“You’re not jealous are you? He’s just a friend at the bank.”

“Not at all, I was just curious. What’s his name?”

(Name) could tell Askeladd wasn’t Roald’s biggest fan as she could tell from the way Askeladd was acting. Smiling at the handsome blonde man she happily gave him answer.

“The handsome guy who works at the bank.”

Askeladd chuckled and didn’t inquire about Roald anymore that would come much later.

No.

Askeladd was a cunning man and knew when to strike at the right time.

Morning was always ideal.

Right in his kitchen, of course.

The wealthy business man had his sugar baby over the kitchen counter with his cock deep inside her cunt, repeatedly hitting her g-spot as his hands massaged her breasts making her moan a loud. Whispering in her ear “Tell me who he is.” Or “You can tell me baby girl.”

Even though she would whimper back “he’s just a friend.” Over and over again her sugar daddy wasn’t happy with her answer and that was fine. The man knew his sugar baby wouldn’t leave him any time soon for anyone, he treated her too good as he would later on that day spoil her with more money and maybe another round of sex.

But as of right now he would enjoy his sugar baby’s cunt and afterwards he would visit the bank.

✨Rukia-Writes✨

[catsvrsdogscatswin]

Hellsing Commentary 6 Notes

This commentary is done by Taliesin Jaffe, the voice director and lead script adapter of Hellsing, and Yuri Lowenthal, the voice of Pip Bernadotte and young Maxwell. Direct quotes may vary in accuracy, as these are written down from audio without transcripts. I also didn't write down every joke or piece of trivia because I feel like people who watch the commentaries should get to have some nice surprises for stuff that isn't covered here.

-Yuri is deeply excited about being able to swear on the commentary.

-Yuri also comments of young Maxwell that "my bread and butter is playing creepy children."

-According to Yuri, JB (Maxwell's adult VA) is good at an Italian accent "or any other, you know, language or dialect in the history of dialects." Taliesin agrees and mentions that JB actually teaches dialects.

-Yuri says that Crispin probably did a very serious commentary involving philosophy, and he plans to do the exact opposite.

-Taliesin loves the Templars and was given "this really expensive Rosicrucian Codex" as a gift.

-Taliesin says that "We go by the Indiana Jones theory of accents in this show. I feel- if you're complaining about the accents in Hellsing, you're missing the point."

-Yuri has an Anderson action figure.

-Taliesin reiterates the difficulty he had in casting Yumie, because "what is the accent of a Japanese samurai-sword-wielding Catholic nun in the Hellsing universe? No matter what I do, the internet will hate me...and so yeah, I went with the Doctor Who theory. And my theory for that is they're all in orphanages, so she was from a Welsh orphanage."

-Taliesin also talks about how in this episode they are currently "just starting to poke Anderson so that he stops being...the evil villain of the show, and suddenly he has to realize he has to be responsible."

-Yuri says that the beauty of Hellsing is "it's like everything I love all at once, in one show." Taliesin calls it "unapologetic," and says that's the trick to being successful in genre, is being unapologetic.

-Taliesin planned to have Katie Grey (Seras's VA) start talking like Pip on occasion after she ate him.

-Pip's "Now where did I put that helicopter?" is one of Yuri's favorite lines that he's ever said.

-Hellsing was the first show that Taliesin "had enough clout that I went up to Jonathan Klein and was like 'I want this. Give it to me. Make them give it to me.'"

-OVA 6 was one of the first episodes that Patrick Seitz helped write, although Taliesin is normally very protective of his scripts.

-Zorin recites lines from the Rosicrucian Codex in Latin when she creates the giant illusion of herself.

-Taliesin notes that there were over 75 different soldiers in the Wild Geese and keeping track of them all was a nightmare.

-Yuri jokes about Crispin's voice. "Do you get a boner when Crispin talks? I-I do. So that's- that's my thing -you know, me and every woman who watches this, and half of the men."

-While talking about the use of swear words, Taliesin mentions "There is actually -not in this episode, but in an episode somewhere- there is, there is I believe the only usage of the word...I can't believe I'm about to say this, but the c-word, 'cause I can't even, I don't even feel like saying it in the commentary. Um...it's the only time Anderson swears, if you can find it -'cause the actor who plays Anderson was like 'I'm Scottish and I haven't said this word, this is- I've never met a Scotsman who hasn't said this word, can I just say it once? I know I'm a priest, but I have to say it once!' And so somewhere in there he's, he screams the c-word, if you listen."

-Yuri jokes that he should use Pip's "SERAS! CLOSE YOUR EYES!" line on his significant other.

-As of this commentary, Taliesin has a "Hellsing throne" in his living room.