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fairwellersmustache · 1 year

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Thinking about a Leverage Regency AU and how easy it would be…

The place is London. The year is 18—

Rev. Nathaniel Ford: a disgraced Irish vicar. (Sorry Nate, I couldn’t make the Catholicism work; you’re a Protestant now 😔✊) Fell out with God after losing his son, Samuel. Then he subsequently fell out with his patron, an Earl, who would not fund an expensive surgeon for Sam’s care, and finally with his wife, Margaret. Displaced from his station, his credibility, and power as an agent to nobility, Nate moves quietly to London, hoping to realize his revenge or to drink himself to death - whichever comes first. His parish is now being preached to by a Rev. James Sterling.

Mrs. Sophie Devereaux: a spy through and through. She might actually be a duchess, but didn’t you see her in that terrible play on Drury Lane? No one’s really sure. In society, she’s viewed as an eccentric and slightly mysterious salon hostess, but that cover allowed her to play the British and the French governments throughout the end of the 18th century. A metropolitan girl at heart, she’ll never be found in the country unless planning to procure a particular pièce d’art from one of the gaudy estate manors there.

Mr. Elliot Spencer: began his career at 9, as a cabin boy for a naval vessel. He saw the world twice over, but also witnessed the cruel hierarchy between officers and sailors first hand. He roved through the navy and the army doing little more than grunt work, but studied the martial and combat techniques of every place he went. Now he’s just trying to live the quiet life in London as a bruiser for hire.

Mr. Alec Hardison: a man who has lived many lives —aided, of course, by his job as a private banker, moving around the wealth of London at his leisure. In his line of work, he has picked up the ins and outs of all the governing bodies and businesses in the empire. Add that to his virtuosic ability to pick up any form of study and Mr. Hardison could bleed London dry, given the right reasons. For now, he enjoys the high life thanks to the fortunes of his “betters”.

Parker: an urchin, a waif, the stickiest of fingers in the nicest of neighborhoods. Once the apprentice of the notorious criminal, Lord Archibald Leech, the Gentleman’s Thief, she’s since left his tutelage and is now operating unseen in the big houses of Grosvenor Square as a scullery maid, putting enough bits and bobs aside to graduate from service and to never look back again.

#leverage #leverage au #parker #Alec Hardison #elliot spencer #sophie devereaux #nate ford #ask me about my Leverage : Redemption regency hcs #see Alex write #I mean I probably won’t end up writing for this #👀👀 unless….#leverage: regency

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 6 months

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Unfinished - Part One: Love is Like Ghosts

A/N: Happy Spooky Season, friends! This story has been marinating in my brain for the last few months, and I am super excited to share it with you. It's my first stab at something truly spooky, and though this part is mostly set up, the next few should hopefully bring the scares. If anyone is curious about the inspiration for this story, please please please feel free to ask because I have LOADS to say about it! I hope you guys enjoy my ghosties!

*Chapter title comes from Love Like Ghosts by Lord Huron*

Warnings: death, illness, murder, infidelity (not Reader and Marcus) mention of loss of parent, language

Word Count: 4,723

Summary: Maplewood Manor has a long history, not all of it pleasant, and not all of it known. You and Marcus also have a long history, and when you reunite for a few days, both of those long histories become intertwined.

Maplewood Manor - October 30, 1868

Henry Ashford stood at the window of his wife’s sickroom with a decision to make.

His hands gripped the wood that framed the panes of glass as he watched three bright orange leaves swirl through the chilly autumn air on their way to the ground. Ever since he was a child he had been fascinated by the colorful display of the changing fall foliage, the leaves seemingly celebrating their own impending demise by turning as bright and beautiful as they could before departing from the branches they were born to. Once they’d fallen, he would traipse through the grounds in search of the right one - one with perfectly shaped edges or the most vivid golden hue. Bringing it back inside he would take it to his mother, the woman pressing it under glass to preserve it through the colorless winter. Henry would hang the glass encased leaf in his window like a suncatcher, marveling at the ghost of autumn he’d captured until Spring came again with its buds and blossoms. And then the leaf would be discarded, the glass awaiting its next specimen until he outgrew the childish hobby.

Or perhaps outgrew was the wrong word for it. The fascination with preserving the beauty of things that had died stuck with him, stoked and fed by his father’s work in the burgeoning field of photographic technology. James Ashford was the owner of the largest camera company on the East coast, and the invention of the daguerreotype took his sales to new levels, solidifying the Ashford fortune for generations to come. At the same time it solidified Henry’s interest in a new method of preservation - postmortem photography.

It was a strange thing for a young man to be interested in, and as such, Henry himself was regarded as a bit strange. Nevertheless when the time came to marry, a suitable match was made for him in the form of Eliza Cutwright, the daughter of a wealthy banker from Philadelphia. It was not a marriage of romance, nor was it one of shared interests. Though she was wed to one of the most influential men in the photography industry, Eliza preferred the majesty of oil based portraits and pencil sketches to the cold reality of anything caught by a camera lens. It was rendition, interpretation, that she found fascinating - the way an artist would paint their version of the truth, the world as it was through their eyes, with emotion and passion. Not the scientific chemical process of taking and developing photos.

The Ashfords though, like any respectable family of the time, functioned as they were meant to. They hosted and attended high society events, Eliza playing the role of the ever-devoted wife, always a smile on her face, her arm always linked with Henry’s while they laughed and hobnobbed with investors and socialites. They had two children - a son, Edwin, and a daughter, Josephine - ensuring that their family legacy would live on for future generations. On paper, Henry and Eliza Ashford were an enviable couple.

Behind closed doors though, they hardly had anything to do with one another. Each year that passed seemed to widen the gap between their mindsets, every bit of growth that Henry’s company saw driving Eliza further into her love of the traditional arts. He spent more and more time in their townhome in the city, giving the excuse that he was busy with running his father’s company and leaving Eliza on her own at Maplewood, only returning when decorum called for it. It kept both of them happier and made it easier for Henry to stomach his wife’s obsession with fighting against modernity.

In turn, Eliza felt freer in her husband’s absence to commission artwork for their home, to visit galleries and meet with artists. In the Spring of 1868, while at tea with a friend, she was reacquainted with one of the first artists she had ever met - Calvin Harper.

Cal was the son of the artist that Eliza’s parents had commissioned to create both individual and family portraits of the Cutwrights, and he would tag along with his father when he came for sessions. While the rest of Eliza’s family had their turns sitting for Cal’s father, she and the boy, roughly the same age, would play in the gardens or else in one of the house’s many rooms. The only time Cal would be at his father’s side, watching each painstaking stroke of the brush, was when Eliza was his subject. Mr. Harper would later credit Eliza for Calvin’s interest in art. Their friendship, though not one of equal social status, was allowed to continue even after Cal’s father had completed his work, but it was terminated the minute Eliza was betrothed to Henry. It wasn’t proper for a married woman to keep company with bachelors.

Especially bachelors that same married woman had always harbored affection for.

But when she saw a piece hanging in her friend Grace Felton’s parlor, the same movement and light present in every brushstroke and the familiar C.H. signature in the corner, she knew at once that it was Cal’s work. Grace had purchased some of his paintings and had taken his information so that she could hire him to do portrait work. At Eliza’s request, she put the two old friends back in touch, and though it had been nearly a decade since they’d seen each other last, nothing had changed between them. Their friendship was rekindled as though it had never been dampened, Eliza inviting Cal to Maplewood and commissioning him for the same work that her father had hired his for.

He started with portraits of Edwin and Josephine, the children taking an instant shine to their mother’s childhood friend, running to greet him when he arrived, stuffing little bouquets of wildflowers or interestingly shaped rocks into his hand as gifts. Josephine had even made him a drawing, once, the girl beaming as he heaped praise upon it. He reciprocated with sweets and the occasional small toy. By the time both of their portraits were finished, Cal had himself two little shadows that sat and watched in awe as he painted, just as he used to watch his father. The way that they interacted only made Eliza’s heart grow more fond of him, and he more so of her. She began to imagine what it would have been like had she and Cal never been separated, daydreaming a life where they’d been together the entire time, where Edwin and Josephine were his and the four of them were a family. Where she’d never met Henry Ashford and never had to pretend to be anyone other than who Cal Harper knew her to be.

The affair seemed inevitable, largely because neither party did anything at all to stop it. It began while Eliza sat for her portrait, the little willpower that either of them had to keep things plutonic vanishing entirely once Cal’s eyes studied every detail of her face, once she watched the lick of his tongue against his lips as he concentrated. They were careful not to let the maid or the butler see, and they never shared more than a brief embrace in front of the children, not wanting to drag any of them into things should Henry arrive home unannounced. But during the week or so that Cal stayed at Maplewood while he worked on a painting of the house and grounds, he and Eliza took every chance they could to slip away to the meadow at the edge of the property, or else up and away into one of the many spare rooms.

The one that ended up being the last room either of them ever set foot in, actually. The room that eventually became Eliza Ashford’s sickroom.

Just as the affair itself seemed imminent, so too was Henry catching wise to it. He met Cal on a visit back home, the artist taking the opportunity to start Henry’s individual portrait while he was available, setting Eliza’s aside to finish once he was gone again. Nothing happened then to tip him off about what happened while he was away, the two men saying very little to one another but remaining civil. Despite his affinity for photography, Henry was actually quite pleased with the outcome of Cal’s work, bestowing a handshake on him. It wasn’t until all four Ashfords were sitting as a family that Henry picked up on the attraction humming between the artist and his wife - and between the artist and his children.

It wasn’t as though he remained loyal to Eliza while he was away. Henry had at least two women in Philadelphia that Eliza knew about. But a man of his stature was almost expected to have a mistress, and so long as there were no bastards involved and no one important caught wind of the man stepping out on his wife, it was like it never happened.

What enraged Henry about Cal and Eliza’s tryst was the fact that it occurred in their home. It was the fact that Eliza had allowed Cal to become close with the children. It was the idea that Edwin or Josephine might slip and mention their mother’s good friend who spent long weekends at Maplewood while their father was gone. It was the ramifications of a leader in the camera industry’s wife spreading her legs for a common artist. It was pride, more than anything.

He knew for certain that something existed between the two when Eliza fell ill and Cal still came to Maplewood. He’d given the excuse of needing to refine the painting of the house - more detail in the cornices or better color matching to the stained glass windows - but that hadn’t kept him from making a stop to see her. The final nail in the coffin had been the sketches Cal had brought to show Eliza, hoping that they would lift her spirits - sketches of her, not a stitch of clothing to cover her body, sketches of the two of them together in positions he dreamed of during their ten years without contact. Sketches that included birthmarks that only Henry should know about on Eliza’s body. Sketches that fell out of his bag and that Henry found on the floor of the hallway outside Eliza’s room.

The doctors said it was consumption, but the medical world would likely later redefine her condition as a type of lung disease, non-infectious, which was why no one else caught what was killing her. She may even have survived her illness given a few more weeks to recover. But those sketches became her true cause of death. Cal’s, too.

Edwin and Josephine had been sent to stay with their governess at the townhome in the city while their mother was sick since no one knew that it wasn’t contagious. The staff had been pared down to just the housekeeper, who had gone into town to go shopping, so there was no one home to hear the gunshot that tore through Cal’s skull, and there was no one home to stop Henry from aiding Eliza’s death with a pillow over her face.

Which led Henry to the decision that he needed to make. The way he saw it, he had three options.

The first was to turn himself in for the murder of his wife and her lover. He would go to prison. His father’s company, his company, would be dragged through the mud, and Edwin and Josephine would likely never speak to him again, let alone have anything of his to carry on which was the whole point of their births. This was the option he gave the least amount of thought to.

Option number two was to follow Eliza and Cal by swallowing a bullet of his own. In his eyes it was preferable to prison. There was even the possibility that when the three bodies were discovered, authorities would assume it was a murder-suicide committed by Cal. The children would grow up traumatized by the story of their parents’ murders, but Henry figured that would already be the case after losing their mother so young. The company would survive, and nothing of the estate would be liquified. Henry didn’t want to die, though, so he put that one out of his mind, too.

That left the third and final option - disposing of Cal’s body before anyone returned, and passing Eliza’s murder off as a natural cause. Because he hadn’t shot her, there was no wound. It would be easy to say she’d died in her sleep. Cal had fallen in the center of an area rug, which meant that the mess was contained and would be simple enough to bundle up and drag into the cellar. The floorboards were removable, and there was plenty of space for a 5’11” corpse to never be found.

Turning from the window pane and back to the gruesome scene in front of him, he made his choice.

It wasn’t until both bodies had been dealt with that Henry noticed the easel in the corner of the room, Eliza’s half-finished portrait staring through him from an otherwise featureless face.

– – –

Maplewood Manor - October 30, 2023

You sat at the long elegant dining table going over the notes for your lecture and listening to the murmur of the crowd as people shuffled into the next room to take their seats.

Sounds like a full house out there.

As a member of the Society for the Restoration of Maplewood Manor, you were obligated to host one fundraising event that was open to the public a year, and whenever you could, you chose to do something that had a Halloween spin on it. Other members chose things like tea parties, dinner dances, or summer barbeques on the sprawling lawns. People from the area - and even some from further away - would purchase tickets, and then whoever was in charge of the event would round up sponsors to donate whatever was needed so that 100% of the profits could go back into the maintenance and repair of a two hundred year old estate.

Maplewood had been in rough shape until the fifties, the deed falling into the township’s hands when the last owner had passed and there was no one looking to move in. It was turned temporarily into an art gallery, which had done severe damage to the walls and floors, not to mention the botched job that some electrician had done with the wiring of overhead lights. Eventually the property was purchased by a local university and that’s when the serious repair work had begun and the Society formed. Years later you would end up attending the college, which was how you got involved with the restoration, and though you’d graduated almost twenty years ago, you were still an active member.

The event that you were hosting was entitled Unfinished Business: Ghosts Caught on Canvas. You’d decided to go with something that combined your interests and skills. You were an artist by trade, but your focus was very atypical. Though you did also create your own original works, you’d made your name in the art world by completing works that had been left incomplete by their creators’ deaths. Sometimes the families of the artists would commission you, other times you were contacted by museums, universities and private collectors. In a way, you felt like you were bringing closure to the people who hired you, and to the actual pieces of art themselves. Your lecture didn’t include any of the pieces that you’d worked on, all of the ones you’d chosen to highlight still unfinished and baring all of the sketchy lines and over-painted areas that showed how their artists were still unsure or undecided about how that portion of the piece would look when it was done.

To your surprise, the event sold out in under a week when normally tickets for these events would still be available at the door. You were glad that you’d been able to contribute something so beneficial to the restoration society. But an even bigger surprise came in the form of one of the attendees on your guest list - Marcus Pike.

You smiled to yourself as you recalled the message you’d sent him as soon as you saw that he had purchased a ticket. This really you? You’d sent it along with a screenshot showing his RSVP, and within seconds he had responded. Do you know any other Marcus Pikes? It had made you roll your eyes and snort, but at the same time it filled you with excitement. You hadn’t seen much of Marcus in the past few years while he was in Texas, and hadn’t spent a Halloween with him since the year after the two of you graduated college.

Which sucks, because he’s so much fun around this time. And… and I miss him.

Though you’d remained as close as you could from so many states away, nothing beat the few times you’d visited one another when he had time off from work. But none of those visits had been in the month of October. Another smile climbed your cheeks - along with a splash of heat - as you thought back to the first Halloween you spent with him, and the night that the two of you met. You and Kelly, your roommate, were hosting a costume party, and you were meeting her new boyfriend for the first time. Though their relationship wouldn’t last, you had formed a friendship with the cute guy from 2E who showed up in an impromptu sheet-ghost getup that would at times border on something more but never truly solidified into anything official. You’d kissed a few times, even slept together once, and more than a few of both of your friends had assumed that you would end up together.

But then Marcus had moved south to start his career, and the will they won’t they question seemed to be answered with a won’t. And then he met and married Erin, and even when the marriage quickly came apart, you never really considered that the two of you would shift gears.

And then there was Teresa.

You wrinkled your nose at the thought of the woman and the bullshit that you knew she put Marcus through. In a way, you were glad that they hadn’t worked out, because you didn’t think you could stomach being nice to someone who had toyed with your best friend the way that she had. But at the same time, you felt for him, because you knew that when Marcus went in on a relationship, he went all in. He fell hard, which made it hard for himself to get back up sometimes. Moving back East to D.C. was good for him in that regard, and selfishly, it was good for you, too, because him being only two hours away meant that more regular visits were back on the table.

Your phone chimed on the table next to your notes, and you couldn’t help the way your face broke into a grin as you read the text displayed on the screen. Just got here. Place looks great, can’t wait to hear your lecture! Another text bubble popped up that made you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. And to seeing you.

Before you could respond, Xander, one of the grad students who was part of the restoration society, poked his head into the room where you sat to let you know that you were all set to start.

“Thanks, X.” You smiled at him and gathered your note cards before heading into the next room.

Thanking everyone for coming - and honing in on Marcus as you said it - you launched right into your presentation.

“Real quick, before I start, how many of you all have been on a supposed haunted tour? Of a house or a city or graveyard?” You paused to let people respond, counting the raised hands in the room. About half of them were in the air. Not surprised. You smirked. “Now keep your hand up if you actually saw a ghost on any of those tours.” A ripple of laughter went through the room as every hand dropped back down. “That’s what I thought. Now, show of hands, how many of you really truly believe in ghosts?”

This time, only a few people put their hands up. Again, not surprised. But you acted surprised anyway. “Really? Almost everyone in here has paid money to go on a ghost tour, but only four of you actually believe in ghosts?”

That got another round of chuckles, Marcus’ hitting your ear over the rest. “Well, don’t worry. I’m not asking you to believe in ghosts tonight. The word belief implies that I’m expecting you to put your blind faith in something without being able to prove that it’s true. But I have proof. Solid, physical proof of ghosts that exist here in our world. So I’m not asking you to believe. I’m telling you that ghosts are real. And now I’m going to show them to you.”

You could feel the rush of anticipation in the room, everyone going from joking and laughing to scooting forward in their seats at your promises. For the next hour and a half, you went over the selected works, pointing things out and connecting each piece with its artist, sharing facts and stories about them when they were relevant or entertaining.

“You can still see the sketches underneath, right here. In this corner of the image. It’s almost as though the artist hadn’t decided yet - should the wings be unfurled or folded? The pencil lines here and here would indicate that originally they were open, spread wide. But from the beginnings of the brushstrokes over here it seems like maybe he was considering a different pose. And we’ll never know which way it was intended to be, or if the wings would even still be there in the final piece. So in a way, the painting itself is haunted, full of the ghosts of the artist’s original intentions.”

You finished up your talk by briefly explaining how you did your job - how you tried to immerse yourself in the mindset of the artist by gaining access to their journals, letters, photographs or any information about their life at the time that they were working on the piece, and then do your best to match the different styles and color palettes to complete the picture. Wrapping it up by thanking everyone again, you let people know that refreshments were available in the dining room and that you’d be available for any questions for about a half hour. Most people made their way in for snacks, but a few lingered for your informal Q & A. You gave them your undivided attention, which was difficult knowing that Marcus was hovering just beyond the small group that had formed around you and the six easels behind you.

But there was no urgency, no rush to finish up and spend time with him, because he had four days off and was planning to spend three of them catching up with you. When you were finally done and the last person had thanked you for your time, you turned to Marcus and blew out a huff. “Well that went well I think.”

He grinned wide, the expression lighting up his eyes. “You think?” Without warning, he moved in to wrap you in a hug, arms winding around you and giving a brief, tight squeeze. “You did great.”

Returning the hug, you laughed. “Thanks, Marcus.” The scent of his cologne hit your nose and you had to stop yourself from burrowing into his neck to inhale again. Instead, you pulled back to see the smile he was still wearing. “I’m so glad you could make it. Been a while since we’ve been in this building, huh?”

Marcus glanced around the room and nodded. “It has. Brings back a lot of memories.” He looked back at you and winked. “Good ones.”

It does.

Marcus hadn’t been in the restoration society with you while you were in school, but there were a number of campus activities that happened at Maplewood Manor, so you’d both been in the old mansion plenty of times before that night.

You kissed me in the parlor room junior year. Doesn’t get better than that, Marcus.

You wondered if that was the memory that came to mind for him, but before you could get too caught up in that thought, he spoke again. “Not to rush you out of here or anything, but I’m starving. You ready to go grab dinner? On the way here I noticed that Michael’s Diner is still open and I’ve been thinking about those disco fries since then.”

Your eyes widened. “Of course Michael’s is still open, that place is an institution, Marcus. And yes, I’m also very hungry. Let me just check in with Xander and the other student volunteers to see if they need anything before we head out.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be here.”

Verifying that Xander had everything he needed to close up once the remaining guests had cleared out, you thanked the kid and rejoined Marcus. “Alright, all set. Let’s go pig out like we used to.”

– – –

You’d made it halfway through your meal and most of the way through listening to Marcus tell you about his latest case when your phone rang. Reaching to silence it, you noticed Xander’s name on the I.D. “Sorry, I need to…” You trailed off pointing at your phone and showing him the screen. “Xander probably forgot his key or something.”

Marcus held up both hands, palms facing you. “Of course, go ahead. No need to apologize.”

Nodding, you answered. “Xander? Everything o-”

“You need to get back here. Now.”

The young man’s voice was thin and shaky and it made your stomach drop. Something was wrong, very wrong. It wasn’t just a forgotten key or a lock he couldn’t figure out, and the fear in his voice made your stomach drop. Your expression must have given you away because Marcus’ eyebrows pinched together in concern as he sat across from you.

“What happened, X? You okay?” Your pulse pounded in your brain as you asked.

What could have happened? I haven’t been gone that long.

“There’s… someone…” He gasped a breath and swallowed, saying your name. “I called the police already, they’re on their way and I’m across the street at the security booth, but… There’s a body - a dead body in one of the bedrooms upstairs. I… I was doing a sweep before I closed up and…”

“Oh, shit.” You breathed the two words out, ice flooding your veins as the concern on Marcus’ face went full-blown. “Oh, shit, Xander. I…”

“There’s… s-something else, too.” You heard him swallow again. “When I came back downstairs there was… You only had six paintings in your lecture, right?”

Blinking quickly, you nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “Yeah, why? Is one missing?”

“No. No, nothing’s missing. It’s… there are seven now.” He paused. “Where… how are there seven now?”

“Okay, X. Alright, sit tight until the police show up.” At the mention of the police, Marcus shifted into law enforcement mode, eyes laser focused and hands already moving to pull his wallet out and drop cash on the table. “I’ll be there in ten minutes, okay?”

How the fuck… a dead body? What the… how? When did that happen, I was up there earlier in the day and then the door to the staircase was locked and-

“Hey.” You looked up at Marcus as you both stood from the table. He shook his head. “What’s going on?”

“Xander said he… Marcus, there’s a body. At Maplewood. Someone was killed, and… and there’s another painting that I didn’t bring with me now. I… I don’t-”

“Alright.” He reached for your biceps, taking a deep breath and letting it out to try to get you to do the same. “Okay. Leave your car here. I’ll drive. Let’s go.”

You nodded and tried to calm yourself down, the task made easier by the fact that Marcus was with you, and then you let him steer you out of the diner and into his car.

-- -- --

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list, please feel free to let me know. You can also fill out the form on my Masterlist! :)

tags: @something-tofightfor @littlemisspascal @mishasminion360 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @alraedesigns @practicalghost @tanzthompson @amb11@harriedandharassed @woodlandmouth @thescarletfang @trickstersp8 @princessxkenobi @imtryingmybeskar @haylzcyon@wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns @pedro-pedrito-pascalito @jedi-in-crocs @hannahkatharine @anoverwhelmingdin @chiyo13 @myloveistoolittle @spishsstuff @Noisynightmarepoetry

#marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike fic #pedrostories #marcus pike the mentalist #marcus pike #spooky story #love is like ghosts #unfinished #pedro pascal character #marcus pike fanfiction

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lego-man-speer · 2 months

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Nuremberg Defendants: Part 2, Joachim von Ribbentrop - Nazi Foreign Minister

Continuing my Nuremberg Defendants series. Check links to see posts I've made on previous defendants (Hess wasn't part of the series, but I've already made a post about him):

Rudolf Hess

Alfred Rosenberg

-Joachim von Ribbentrop was born as Ulrich Friedrich Willy Joachim Ribbentrop on the 30th of April, 1893. He was not born into aristocracy (his father did not have the “von” in his name), Joachim grew up in an average middle class family with an older brother and a younger sister.

-Ribbentrop's mother died from tuberculosis when he was still very young. This event undoubtedly had an effect on him for the rest of his life (and I will explain in detail as we go further).

-He had no formal education after the age of fifteen. In school Ribbentrop was an underachiever and showed no signs of being an academic. His father had paid for French and English language tutors to teach him both languages.

-At seventeen, Joachim and his brother were sent to London for a year to polish up their English. After that year they both moved to Canada.

-Ribbentrop's life in Canada seemed to have been a happy one. He was popular, invited to many parties and was argued to have been sort of a ladies man. He worked as a banker and also as a construction worker, going on to help the reconstruction of the Quebec Bridge. Ribbentrop also had a passion for dancing and ice skating. he was even a member of a Canadian ice skating team.

-It was during this time that both Ribbentrop and his brother came down with tuberculosis. Ribbentrop's brother died, however Ribbentrop fortunately survived but had to have one of his kidneys removed. The effects of having his kidney removed were very clear. His left eye would sometimes droop, giving the effect of him looking tired. As a result he had a crippling inferiority complex.

-When the Great War broke out, Ribbentrop carefully returned to Germany to fight for his nation. It was during the war when Ribbentrop first met Franz von Papen (who will be the topic of a future post), a man that went on to become Chancellor under the Weimar Republic.

-After the war, Ribbentrop made a living out of his champagne business, which involved smuggling champagne from other countries. At this time, Ribbentrop was friends with Jewish people, even doing business with them. Ribbentrop was the only member of the inner circle that had previously moved around Jewish circles prior to joining the Nazi Party. He had no strong opinions at the time, people knew him as a moderately conservative monarchist. At elections he would vote for the DVP.

-Gradually Ribbentrop's personality began to change. Gone was the polite and somewhat shy young man, now he was becoming more insufferable as he went on long rants on the dangers of communism. What's more is that Ribbentrop had asked his aunt to adopt him aged in his early thirties so he could add the 'von' (a sign of German nobility - his aunt was a 'von Ribbentrop') to his name. His aunt agreed but was required to pay her a regular sum of money. When he stopped paying, his aunt took him to court and forced him to continue paying.

-In 1920, Ribbentrop married Anna Elisabeth Henkell (Annaliese to her friends). Anna's parents were not fond of Ribbentrop and considered him to be an idiot. The marriage produced five children, and Ribbentrop's eldest (Rudolf von Ribbentrop - born 1921) went on to serve in the Second World War as well as writing a book about his father post-war. Anna was a very ambitious woman and often pushed Ribbentrop around in all matters, including political. Hitler noted that it was clearly her who wore the trousers in the relationship.

-Fascinatingly, Ribbentrop didn't join the Nazi Party until 1932, which was around the time that Hitler was starting to get desperate for power. In late 1932, Hitler was using Ribbentrop's house to hold talks with Franz von Papen (as Papen was an old war friend of Ribbentrop's - and at this time Papen had lost his job as Chancellor of Germany, he was looking for a way to return to power. This moment in history is often referred to as the “Backstairs Intrigue”.)

-For the first few years of the Nazi regime, Ribbentrop had no government role. He mostly spent time in Britain and France, trying to establish connections for Hitler. In 1936, he was made Ambassador to Britain after the incumbent had died suddenly of a heart attack. Ribbentrop's appointment was unexpected, nor did he want the role. Prior to becoming ambassador, Ribbentrop was fond of holidaying in Britain and had hoped to one day retire in St Ives in Cornwall.

-He had a very bad reputation as ambassador and was dubbed 'von Brickendrop' due to his multiple gaffes while in this role. His most famous was when he almost knocked over King George VI by doing the Nazi greeting when the King had reached to shake Ribbentrop's hand. He was not well liked by the British Press nor the British public. Throughout his position (which lasted just over a year) he spent no longer than just a few weeks in London, mostly to stay close to his beloved Führer back home. Overall, his experience as Ambassador turned Ribbentrop from being an Anglophile to an Anglophobe.

-In 1938 Ribbentrop was made Foreign Minister, succeeding Konstantin von Neurath (who will be the topic of a future post). This was the position that Ribbentrop had dreamed of (and a position that his long-term enemy, Alfred Rosenberg, had also hoped for). In this role, Ribbentrop had significant influence over Hitler in the early years of World War 2, even encouraging Hitler to invade Poland despite threats from the British as he claimed “they would not fight seriously.” In this post, Ribbentrop's proudest achievement was his Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact (also referred to as the German-Soviet Nonaggression Pact). After the invasion of the Soviet Union in 1941, Ribbentrop gradually lost influence in his role as Foreign Minister.

-Ribbentrop's role in the Final Solution was fairly ambiguous, but he was most certainly aware that atrocities were taking place. Ribbentrop preferred to look the other way and have someone else do the work. From August 1941, Ribbentrop ordered all future communications sent to the Foreign office to be directed to the office of his subordinates. There is no evidence that Ribbentrop intervened in the exterminations, except on one occasion which was purely on the issue of jurisdiction, rather than humanity. Ribbentrop had involved himself in other war crimes, such as legalising and encouraging the lynching of captured Allied bomber crews in Germany. Although the likes of Göring opposed such measures, and the army favoured it in only a few circumstances, Ribbentrop wished to Lynch the perpetrators of 'every type of terror attack on the German population”, despite this being a violation of international law. This was the main charge against him on count 3 of the Nuremberg indictment (war crimes).

-From 1945, Ribbentrop was essentially powerless. After the suicide of Hitler on the 30th of April (ironic because that's also Ribbentrop's birthday), Ribbentrop fled to Flensburg in an attempt to secure a role in the Dönitz government. Ribbentrop was quickly turned down and so fled to Hamburg, where he went by the alias Johann Riese. He was captured by the British after his whereabouts had been exposed. Ribbentrop was discovered asleep, wearing pink and white pyjamas and a small tin of poison attached to his genitals. Upon being woken up, he began to mumble nervously in German, but as soon as he became conscious of the situation, he spoke in perfect English a prepared speech: “The game is up. I congratulate you. You know who I am. If you had come two days later, I would have already given myself up voluntarily.” The British had also discovered a letter written by Ribbentrop to “Vincent Churchill” (not a spelling mistake on my part, that's Ribbentrop's mistake).

-At Nuremberg, Ribbentrop was a depressed and broken man. So much so that his lawyer (Dr Martin Horn) feared he was close to a psychological breakdown. In fact, Ribbentrop was considered one of the worst suicide risks at Nuremberg, and prison Psychiatrist Dr Kelley was instructed to keep a close eye on him. Ribbentrop's first lawyer was Dr Fritz Sauter (who was also acting for Baldur von Schirach - a subject of a future post), however at the start of 1946 he ceased to be his lawyer either because Ribbentrop dismissed him or he resigned out of exasperation (sources differ on this). Ribbentrop was therefore represented by Dr Martin Horn. On the witness stand, Ribbentrop was a mess and had a tendency to ramble and contradict himself.

-Ribbentrop was found guilty on all four counts of the Nuremberg indictment and was sentenced to death by hanging. He spent his last few days closely studying his Bible. After the unexpected suicide of Göring on the night of the executions, Ribbentrop was the first to be hung. On the scaffold his last words were: “God protect Germany, God have mercy on my soul. My final wish is that Germany should recover her unity, and that, for the sake of peace, there should be understanding between East and West.” He then turned to the Protestant Pastor Gerecke and said “I'll see you again.” Ribbentrop's hanging was badly botched, his neck didn't snap when falling through the trapdoor, therefore strangling him to death. Ribbentrop took around 10-20 minutes to die.

#reichblr #joachim von ribbentrop #ww2 #wwii

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disneydarlin · 2 months

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Disneytoon: Scrooge McDuck —Aesthetic

Scrooge McDuck's Character & Personality

Scrooge is a Scottish man who's "the richest duck in the world". He's Donald's miserly uncle. The business tycoon banker is also Huey, Dewey and Louie's great uncle. Scrooge earned his wealth through years of hard work, well-utilized intelligence, perseverance and extreme thriftiness. He's an adventurer and opportunist. As a treasure hunter, Scrooge has gone to exotic corners of the world in search of wealth. His expertise and lucrative business methods have put him leagues beyond his competition. Scrooge carries this reputation with pride. He has a great love for various riches. Thus, Scrooge is frugal. He goes to great lengths to spend as little money as possible. In putting much time and dedication into increasing his wealth, he's somewhat of a lone cheapskate. Cold and nearly unforgiving, Scrooge is protective of his fortune. He rarely hesitates to use violence against those who provoke his ire. As such, Scrooge is extremely mistrustful of anyone trying to enter his office. For a long time, he practically lived alone and had little contact with his family after gaining wealth. This partially plays into his bitterness. Over time, Scrooge slowly opened himself up to his four nephews and became more compassionate with them. He's still greedy, hot-tempered and an imposing figure at times. However, Scrooge is essentially good-hearted and well-meaning. He values honesty and fair play, believing great fortune should be squarely earned. While Scrooge can be selfish at times, he'll never leave someone behind in urgent need. Beyond his riches, his exploits provided valuable lessons in practical and moral sense. With age, Scrooge became wise and knowledgeable. He regularly puts this wisdom to use when raising his nephews and shows pride in their eagerness to learn the value of a dollar.

#disneytoon #disney #art #scrooge mcduck #duck #aesthetic #moodboard #vintage moodboard #victorian moodboard

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lindszeppelin · 1 year

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DIRTY DEEDS [pt. 1]

Pairing: Austin Butler x Fem!Reader

Prompt: 1970s New York. Austin is tightly wound in the Italian Mafia. Living a life of crime has it's drawbacks. Austin and his wife figure out whether enjoying the perks of being the hottest couple in the big apple with high roller power is worth their lives.

Rating: Mature. 18+.

Word Count: 13.5k

Warnings: Violence, physical assault, blood, smut, oral (m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), swearing, some 70s slang/verbiage, drinking, corruption

The streets of New York City are dangerous to navigate for the uninitiated. It's not enough to be savvy with book smarts - that will only get you so far in life. Try walking down 5th Avenue at night. Even if you're the smartest person in the world who thinks they know everything, you're a damn fool. Best case scenario is you're gonna get mugged within an inch of your life, and the robbers will leave you a bloody pulp on the sidewalk like yesterday's trash. One has to be wise to the dealings of the streets. It's a dog eat dog world, and only the toughest, thick-skinned individuals can survive the Big Apple unphased.

For Austin Butler, a life of brazen crime was not one that he envisioned for himself. It seemed like he was thrust into quick sand, and before he knew which way was up it was too late. Austin was no regular Joe-Schmoe however. He was well aware of the goings on around New York City. As an actor who's climbing the social ladder and intertwining himself into the higher echelons of society, he's learned a thing or two about keeping your mouth shut and never fucking with the wrong people.

But Austin is one of the lucky ones. At least to any outsider. He came from a good, loving family who supported his dreams. While money didn't grow on trees, he was well off than most people. His parents raised him on the value of a dollar and treating others with respect. Plus, he knew what it was like to go hungry. Ever the gentle soul, he was drawn to helping the less fortunate. And New York City's growing homeless population was the perfect breeding ground for those with dastardly schemes to sink their teeth into the ripe flesh and feed.

It's no secret that the Italian community is thriving and strong, becoming the backbone of the state's culture. You can't walk down the street without seeing about three Italian restaurants, a deli serving the freshest meats, and a pizzeria selling hot pies like it's going out of style. But before New York City became rife with bigshots with bloated pockets full of hundred dollar bills wrapped in rubberbands, poor immigrant families of times yonder sailed the seas to Ellis Island. Brooklyn became a home away from home for these wandering souls. Little Italy was just a small slice of the Bronx, but everybody knew everyone's business.

One of these immigrant families ruled the city with an iron fist, and they have been for generations. The thoroughbred Sicilians named the Tenaglia's reigned supreme, offering those in need of assistance with whatever they asked for. But of course, it always came with a price. The poorest of neighbors to the high ranking officials of the city like the police were in the back pockets of the Tenaglia's. You name it - lawyers, bankers, real estate brokers, doctors and others were on bended knee to the Tenaglia's - especially to the Godfather, Don Antonio Tenaglia. And nobody batted an eyelash. It's a funny thing what money can do to a person's morale.

Austin's acting career led him to the Big Apple mostly for gigs and also for charity work on the side. It was here that he met someone that would alter the course of his life. Pellegrino Tenaglia was the youngest son of Antonio, and often considered the best looking Tenaglia - his long dark locks are always tucked nicely behind his ears, and his dark hazel eyes shine gorgeously off his olive oil tanned skin. If he wasn't knee deep in his father's business he would probably make it big as a model or movie star. Antonio made sure all his sons latched onto some kind of career where they could have a foothold in all different areas of the city. Pellegrino is a nice boy and dutifully respects his father. So he took up looking after some of the charities in the poor neighborhoods. While it's not the life that Pellegrino wanted for himself, who was he to go against the wishes of his iron fisted family? As the baby of the bunch he knew it was almost impossible for him to get a word in edgewise before he gets overshadowed by his older brothers who think they know better. He figured that while he was put into this situation, he might as well try to do some actual good for the community he was born and raised in. This was where his path with Austin would collide.

While it might seem like an unlikely match, Austin and Pellegrino bonded naturally over their love of helping the less fortunate. They were also close in age with Austin being a year older than him at 31. They struck up a friendship rather quickly, and pretty soon the laidback Tenaglia son showed Austin around to some local spots. While Pellegrino is a party animal, he likes to schmooze and have a good time. He can make quick friends with strangers in only minutes with a flash of his crooked smile and effortless charm.

Nightlife in the city was unmatched. Studio 54 was the hottest dance club to ever grace the nation - anyone who's anyone goes there to rock to the pumping music and get their picture taken for publicity. Austin was a shy man, so he doesn't get out to dance that much. But spending time with Pellegrino, who goes by Green, allowed the genteel blonde to open up more.

"You gotta get out and embrace life a little, man. I know you don't wanna be cooped up in a soup kitchen all damn day. Lemme show you the ropes." Green would say cheerily, his thick Bronx accent rolling off his tongue.

One of these particular evenings, the line at Studio 54 was reaching far around a couple of blocks. While Green could probably sweet talk the bouncers with a knowing wink and the utterance of his last name, he got the better idea to take Austin to a hole in the wall club that most people don't know about. "It's fucking awesome in here. You're gonna love it." Green would say, pushing Austin along with a firm but friendly hand on his back. Austin on the other hand is sweating bullets.

One last turn of a corner and there they were, at their destination. Green held the door of the club open for Austin and the tall man walked in with his tail tucked between his legs. If you didn't know it, one could assume Austin was on his way to get a stern lecturing from his boss based on how badly he was shaking. He was out of his element completely. But he didn't have time to convince Green to turn around and walk home. Before Austin knew it, he was already thrust to the club's bar and forced down onto an open barstool with a slap on the back from his friend. The bartender nodded to the gentleman and expectantly waited for their orders.

Green spoke up first with his voice, smooth as butter. "A beer for me, please. And what do you want, Butler?" He asked.

Austin cleared his throat and tired his best to adjust quickly to the change in surroundings. "Uh, i'll have a whiskey on the rocks." Austin spoke to the bartender politely. The sharp dressed man in a polyester suit behind the bar went to work on fixing up the men's drinks.

The loud music blaring and the chatty cathy's coming in and out of the club passing by Austin was overwhelming to his senses. He could feel his wallflower demeanor start to creep up on him. He hoped he could curb the anxiety by placing a Marlboro cigarette between his plush lips and flicking his zippo lighter he pulled from his pants pocket, inhaling the cloud of smoke deeply into his lungs before exhaling through his nose.

Green seemed to notice his friend's reservations and leaned his elbow on the counter, facing Austin with his muscular build. "Hey man, no stress. You know I wouldn't take you to a place that wasn't happenin'. Once you get some of that whiskey down your neck I'm sure your feet will lead you to the dance floor." He said, projecting his voice loud enough over the music so Austin could hear.

The shy man put the cigarette between his lips as he ran a hand through his long golden tresses. "We'll see where the night takes us I suppose." He muffled. Two long fingers grasped the cigarette as he took another drag and blew the smoke out the side of his mouth, away from his friend.

This satisfied Green who plastered a wide grin across his face, and patted Austin on the shoulder. Austin was used to getting physically manhandled by Green, it was just how he showed his affection. "Cool, man. That's what I like to hear. Keep an open mind."

Clubs were not a place that Austin frequented very much, if at all. He was the kind of man to enjoy staying home or going out to a nice restaurant. He wouldn't even consider himself a dancer. To think about going out on the dancefloor and moving his feet to the beat of the music has his palms clammy and his stomach doing nauseating flips.

The bartender slid down a freshly cracked Heineken for Green, who thanked the man behind the counter with a nod before wrapping his lips around the bottle and guzzling down the frothy liquid.

Slowly but surely the music started to dwindle down and a sleazy voice slurred over the club's speakers. "Alright ladies and gents, this one goes out to two very foxy mamas out there on the dance floor. You know who you are. Take it away." Said the DJ, a little too close to the microphone. The curly haired mustachioed man behind the booth replaced the vinyl with a fresh one on the turntable, and turned the volume all the way up to eleven.

The sweet melodic strings of Bee Gees "More Than a Woman" rolls on through the club and hit's Austin's ears. Instinctively he rolls his eyes. He's heard the song all over the radio and frankly he despises the tune for how overplayed it is. But tonight will give him a reason to turn his opinion around, he just doesn't know it yet. The party goers all rushed to the dance floor and grabbed a partner. Anyone who had any sense at all would be swaying back and forth to the music, but Austin and Green were onlookers as they observed from their barstools on the second floor of the club.

Austin kept taking drags from his cigarette, watching the way that the beautifully dressed women were spinning around their partners. While he wasn't one to think he had a chance at dancing, he did yearn for a special someone to hold close to him and put the rhythm in his body. While he looked on with a good poker face, on the inside his heart swelled for the chance to take his forever lady on the floor. Maybe one day.

Completely oblivious to the two men, the bartender placed Austin's whiskey on the counter with his own coaster. When Austin heard the glass clink down on the counter top he spun back around and gingerly sipped away at the musky amber liquid. He tapped the excess ashes of his cigarette in a nearby ashtray, taking his eyes off the dancefloor to shyly study the mound of ice in his glass, letting his melancholia posses his thoughts.

Green however was not one to wither away into his drink. He kept his focus entirely on the crowd of dancers, admiring the smooth moves from some of the couples. His foot was tapping on the floor and his head was bobbing along in time to the swing beat. This was his sanctuary away from his family, and he found comfort in the multi-colored lights and sparkling discoball that shined like a beacon touching down from Heaven.

As he scoped out the crowd his eyes narrowed in on two particular women in the center of the floor, dancing together. His deep set eyes widened at the realization. "Holy shit. Unbelievable." He gawked.

"Hmm?" Austin mumbled, quirking his brow at Green.

"My wife is down there. I was wondering where this chick was at all day. Should have known I'd find her on some dancefloor." Green laughed. He took another swig of his beer, his eye never leaving the vision of his wife working wonders on the floor. Tiffany was also a party animal like Green. The two go together like bread and butter. If she wasn't out shopping or at home making the house all perfect for her husband when he gets home, she's out strutting her stuff under a discoball.

"No kidding," Austin chuckled. "She's a dancer?" He asked, bringing his cigarette back to his lips.

Green smirked knowingly. "Only the best dancer in the whole tri-state area as far as i'm concerned." Green leaned back against the bar counter and admired his wife twirling around on the lower level.

Austin blew his smoke out his nose and spun around on his barstool to face the crowded floor once more. "Which one is she?" He asked, trying to scope out the terrain.

Green gestured to the dance floor with the nose of his beer bottle. "You see the one in the middle of the floor with the red hair? Green dress? That's my Tiffany." He smiled proudly, his heart swelling at the thought that the beautiful woman out there dancing to her heart's content was his wife.

Austin squinted his eyes, finally landing on the firey redhead, who stood out among the crowd of blondes and brunettes alike. He nodded absentmindedly to himself that but of course the handsome Tenaglia son would bag a beautiful girl. He caught a glimpse of her satin green dress twirling around her as she spun hand in hand with her dance partner. Tiffany was never alone on the dance floor, her best friend would always accompany her. And tonight was as per usual.

As the men watched Tiffany dance, they could finally see the woman she was dancing with. At first all that they could make out was a mass of fluffy, perfectly bouncy blown out curls. When the woman finally spun around, her visage no longer a mystery, Austin's jaw nearly hit the floor. The mystery woman looked like she had stepped out of a fairytale. Her curves were supple and accented gorgeously with white bellbottom pants and a cropped long sleeve top that was tied at the small of her waist, accenting her cleavage. Did Cupid just come down and strike Austin's heart with an arrow? Because in all his life he swears he's never seen a more sexy creature. He leaned forward on his barstool, trying to get a better look at the woman who set his heart asunder. At any moment he was sure he'd have a heart attack. "Who's that dancing with your wife?" Austin asked perhaps a little too nervously, but he tried to play it off.

Green rose to his feet to get a better view from up above. "Oh that's Y/N. She's like a sister to Tiff. Known her for years. She's a nice girl." Green placed his hands on his hips and turned back on his boot heels to face Austin. Almost immediately he could tell that Austin was somewhere on another planet. He had faraway eyes, and all he heard Pellegrino say was her name. It played on a loop in the blonde's mind, thinking it was the most beautiful string of syllables he's ever heard. He so lost in his own thoughts that he barely noticed his cigarette was burning so fast that it was mostly all ash crumbling in his hands and threatening to make a mess of his nice slacks.

Green smirked at his friend, and raised a quizzical brow. "You want me to introduce you?" He asked, knowing the answer would most likely be yes.

Austin's mouth went dry at the thought. She looked like an angel as she smiled wide, giggling with Tiffany as the women danced around each other. The way her body swayed to the beat of the music sent blood rushing straight to Austin's manhood. He needed to know her. He had to talk to her. But like this? Austin felt like a school boy with a crush on the prettiest girl in the class. He rubbed the sweat from his palms onto his thighs and tried his best to quell the blood rushing straight for his cock. Not that it had been a long time since Austin was with a woman. But there was something about this femme fatal that captured his unique interest. She beguiled him from across the room. For all she knew, she didn't even know of his existence. Not yet anyway.

"Do you think she'd go for me? Honestly." Austin asked Green anxiously.

The charming brunette walked up to Austin and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, shaking him a little to jostle those nagging thoughts out of his mind. "Listen here. You're a single, well-to-do good looking man. She's my wife's best friend, an exceptional dancer, and she's also single. I know she hasn't gone steady with a guy for a long time. She's not a sleaze, she's got brains and a heart. So in my opinion I think you two would hit it off. But we don't know that for sure unless you make a move." Green said confidently. He was right. How could you really know unless you just plunge headfirst into the deep end. Tonight, Austin would be putting his faith in the universe and himself to the test.

Austin placed the barely there cigarette between his lips and inhaled deeply. He nodded as he let the smoke exhale from his nostrils. Austin was accepting his fate. He knew he would either let the anxiety he was feeling ruin his night and have him leaving the club, crawling under the covers never to see the light of day again. Or, he would probably embarrass himself when sweet talking his dreamgirl. Either option is far from acceptable. But, he had to make the effort and try. Otherwise some other guy would scoop her up before he has the chance. This was it. It was now or never.

"Fuck it. You're right." Austin said, self assured in his final decision.

Green took hold of the glass of whiskey Austin was nursing and forced it into the blonde's hands. "Drink up brother, I can tell you haven't done this shit in a while." He laughed.

Austin smiled nervously, a breathy chuckle fogging up the glass. "Is it that obvious?" He asked. Austin took a generous helping. The amber liquid pooled into his mouth and coated his tongue, letting the fragrant musk linger on his palette before swallowing it down in one gulp.

"Unfortunately yes, but I think we can remedy that. Just follow my lead and you'll be good as gold. Capisce?" Green slapped Austin on the back before nudging him off the barstool and up on his feet.

As the Italian man took Austin by the collar of his shirt he felt like the room was spinning. He pushed Austin down the flight of stairs that led from the second floor down below to the open dance floor. Every which way drunk patrons were fumbling around the tall blonde. The flashing colored lights disoriented him as he kept his eagled eyes strictly on his earth angel. His heart was about to leap out of his chest.

As the romantic Bee Gees song came to a fadeout, Tiffany and her friend slowed their movements and paused to catch their breaths. Out of the corner of her brown eyes, Tiffany spotted Pellegrino. The expression on her cherub face was one of surprise and pure delight.

Green's arms fell open to his sides and he beamed out a pearly white smile. "Well well, look at what we have here! My beautiful wife is dancing without me." He spoke playfully.

The cute redhead scrunched her button nose and scurried over to her husband. Tiffany's porcelain complexion balanced out with her eye-catching locks, which she paired with a matching red lipstick. Her satin dress was a divine shade of sage, complimenting her perfectly. She cutely tip toed on the balls of her heeled feet and flung her arms around Pellegrino.

"Fancy seeing you here, handsome!" Said Tiffany excitedly. She had the voice of a princess, and her sunny personality was definitely infectious. She could light up a room. No wonder why Pellegrino married her. The lovebirds hugged each other in a warm embrace for what seemed like eternity. And while Green and Tiffany were wrapped up in each other, Austin couldn't hide the obvious fact of his staring at the gorgeous creature standing beside the redhead.

A shy, nervous smile crept up on the corners of his voluptuous lips at the woman standing by Tiffany's side. Now that she was close enough to him, Austin could make out more of her features up close. She was even more beautiful than he had realized, which strikes him dumb and unable to function. The woman smiled back at Austin as she tucked a piece of her hair behind her ears. To his surprise, she looked like she was captivated by him as well. He noticed that she gave him a quick once over, eyeing his tall and built frame accented gorgeously in Austin's suit- and she definitely liked what she saw.

Tiffany pulled away from Green and gave him a quick peck on the lips, wiping off the red lipstick residue from her husband's mouth. Green sheepishly smiled and turned his attention back to Austin. "Babydoll, there's someone I want you to meet. This is my friend Austin Butler. Austin, this is my better half."

Austin snapped out of his daydream and turned his attention to his friend. He nodded and graciously shook her hand. "Tiffany, it's a pleasure to meet you."

She giggled, her friendly eyes shimmering as she stood tall and proud. "Nice to meet you too Austin."

Green placed one of his hands around Austin's shoulder, and the other one gestured out to Y/N. "And this is Y/N. She keeps my Tiffany on her toes, literally." He laughed.

Austin closed the distance with one stride of his long legs, and he held out a trembling hand to the beautiful lady. "Hi. It's most certainly a pleasure to meet you, Y/N." He cooed.

Her cheeks flushed a rosy hue, blushing at how kind and downright handsome the blonde was. She extended one of her hands, and the minute she made contact with Austin he felt a bolt of lightening rock him to the core. To hold onto just this tiny piece of her was intensely electrifying. He couldn't help but gasp faintly as he looked into her gorgeous eyes. She was sucking him right into her sphere.

Finally, he heard his angel speak. "It's wonderful to meet you too, Austin."

And as the saying goes, the rest is history. To say that Austin was smitten about you was an understatement. He always struggled in past relationships, trying to find the girl of his fantasies that he could settle down with. Because of his celebrity status he either had girls that just wanted to fuck him and run to the press about it, or girls that only saw dollar signs.

But you were different. You saw through to who Austin was at a soul level, and you loved him as if he was just any run of the mill person. To you, he is your guiding light. And you intend to keep him happy for the rest of your life. You and Austin spent every waking moment together. Soon enough you were spending holidays with his family and getting ingrained with the Tenaglia's, who had in a way adopted Austin as their unofficial son and brother. To have their approval meant the world to you, and to him as well. Finally, he had found the missing piece to his puzzle. He felt whole and complete with his woman by his side - his dance partner for all eternity.

The tabloids had a field day when it was announced that the handsome bachelor was engaged to be married. Pictures of you and him were smattered across every newspaper on the east coast. Eventually, he permanently moved from California to settle down with you in New York. This transition worked out well in favor of the Tenaglia's who liked to keep their friend close by to them.

Pellegrino was chosen as best man, and Tiffany was the maid of honor. Anyone who was anyone was invited to the "wedding of the decade", according to the New York Times.

The dance circuit was still as popping as ever, and after a little while of settling into married life and figuring out finances, you and Austin merge as business partners to create Tease - the hottest club to rival that of Studio 54. Every Saturday there would be a dance competition called Boogie Nights where all the best dancers would compete for first place bragging rights, a trophy, and a bit of a cash prize. It was good incentive for people to keep stopping by the club and spending their hard earned money at Tease.

The place actually started to be self sustainable after only a month or two. Green naturally drew more people into the club, and he used a lot of his connections in the mob to bring his friends down there and spread the word. it wasn't long before Tease was the most popular club in New York. The likes of celebrities, musicians, actors and more were spotted at your club - and it only increased your profits. Most of the money made at Tease was split between you and Austin, and the Tenaglia's also got a small cut for helping to promote the club by word of mouth and a little persuasion.

It's not exactly what you envisioned when opening a club with your husband, to have his mafia compadres be latched onto it, but you learned real quick that to appease the Tenaglia's you had to play by their rules and keep your mouth shut. So that's what you did. Plus you trusted Austin's opinion on the family. They took him in and treated him like a son. So, what harm could it do to have them be a part of Tease?

It's not like you were crawling on your hands and knees for the Tenaglia's to help out with business. Afterall, you and Austin are the hottest couple in New York. While you were once an unknown random woman to the general public who was marrying a high profile celebrity, now you were one yourself. All the women took inspiration from how you wore you hair and makeup on the dancefloor, and they definitely copied your fashion. You were becoming somewhat of a local celebrity. And with Austin by your side, you felt like you could do anything. You were on top of the world.

~~~Present day~~~

Tonight is Boogie Nights down over at Tease. The place is bumping with loud disco music. The club is filled with thick clouds of cigarette smoke, and the clinking glasses of alcohol filled the air. There was barely a seat left unoccupied, it was a packed madhouse. Everyone in the Bronx got all dolled up in their best outfits and hair sprayed high to the heavens for this event. Before the competition starts, you let the patrons have their chance to dance on the floor before the professional competitors tear it up.

You and Austin are like the perfect tag team, keeping the joint going. You're out there on the floor, schmoozing with the guests and selling them on getting a drink at the bar. Meanwhile, Austin is letting in all the high rollers and making sure the friends of the Tenaglia's and other goodfellas are well fed and well drunk. Keeping them happy means keeping everyone happy.

You spot your husband from across the room. You decide to take a break from forging friendships with the crowd and make an appearance by his side. Afterall, you know as well as Austin that when it comes to being linked to the Tenaglia family, you have to show people how powerful you are. Seeing is believing.

Your red dress flows effortlessly around your stocking clad legs, the breeze wafting through your perfectly coiffed curls. You wear your best smile as you near the table at the side of the dancefloor where Austin is working his magic at winning over the men. He looks so sexy in his black button down shirt and grey pinstripe pants that hug the curve of his ass deliciously. A couple of buttons are left undone, on purpose, and the gold cross he's wearing hangs down his chiseled chest and lands in his tufts of blonde chest hairs. He looks scrumptious. You almost can't believe this blonde beauty is yours.

Austin stands over the table, looking authoritative yet friendly as he laughs and greets each man one by one with a firm handshake. You make yourself known by reaching out to touch your husband's back with a soft caress of your hand.

"Hi baby, I see that you've welcomed our guests." You say in your bubbliest voice. "I hope you gentlemen are enjoying your evening." You announce to the entire party. Austin smiles warmly at you, wrapping his arm around your waist and bringing you into his side, showing you off to the men.

The group of Italian men smirk at you, while some of them keep their nose down firmly in their drinks, not giving a damn about niceties and looking to get plastered. The man who you assume to be the ring leader flashes a smile at you, showing off his imperfect teeth. He's probably about 60-something, around the same generation as Don Antonio. He seems to have kind brown eyes. And he has a nice head of salt and pepper hair combed back off his ruddy complexion. A thick Brooklyn accent seeps past his thin lips. "Thank you doll. It's hard to not have a good time when you get treated with the upmost of respect 'round 'ere. Your husband keeps a tight ship I see."

Austin shyly smiles, and you pat his chest lovingly at the praise. "Yes he certainly does. I'm the luckiest woman in the entire world." You say proudly.

As you pass glances around the table, you notice some of the men perk up at you. You brush off the ones the ogle a little too long for your liking, which you thought was inappropriate for the setting and the fact that your husband was standing right next to you. Austin notices this as well. He makes a mental note of which men are looking for trouble so he can keep a close eye on them. Obviously he's aware that you're a beautiful girl, and it's only natural to get a couple of eyes on you. But you're his woman, and these bozos should know their place. Austin leans over and kisses your temple, making a show for certain men at the table. They cock their eyebrows and get the picture, going back to putting their head down and drinking their beverages. That put them off for now, and Austin feels his ego boosting.

"I should be so lucky as to be called her husband. You say I keep a tight ship, sir, but Tease wouldn't be what it is without this little lady right here. She's the reason for it all." Austin cooed, beaming a dazzling grin at you.

The older italian man bowed his head in respect with a smile still plastered on his crooked teeth. "You seem like a good kid, Austin. I speak for everyone here at this table when I say that I wish you and your wife many years of a blissful marriage. It'll be 20 years with my Maria in a couple of weeks, so I understand the bond between a husband and a wife. Not that any of these schmucks would know what it means to bring home the bacon to a doting wife. Ain't that right, boys?" The man said rhetorically, purposefully getting a rise out of the other mobsters at the table. If they wanted to keep their heads, they would nod and laugh along with the joke. Some of them do, and others roll their eyes snidely. Again, Austin took note of who clearly had respect and who didn't.

You perked up, sidestepping over the joke with grace. "Well fellas, please let either me or Austin know if you need anything tonight. More refills on your drinks, a song request. Anything, you name it." You say happily, playing the role of mafia wife to a T.

The older italian man raised his glass. "Greatly appreciated, Miss. Salut." He said. The table all raised in saying cheers before downing their drinks.

Austin bowed gracefully at the entire table, and turned on his heel with you still glued by his side. You could feel Austin's hand grip your waist just a little bit harder as you both walked away.

"You saved me back there. I definitely owe you one later." He said out the side of his mouth, attempting to pass smiles and little nods to the patrons that waved hello to the two of you.

"All in a days work, Mr. Butler." You joked.

Austin chuckled, his laugh reverberating deep within his chest and vibrating off of your body that's tightly pressed into his polyester side. "How's about I get you a drink, baby? Tell me what you want, i'll have Marcus make something special for you." Marcus is the bartender for Tease. He's young, handsome, and charismatic enough to attract everyone and keep them filled with booze. He's not a Tenaglia, but he's aware of the prestige that comes with being part of the family unit. Plus he makes a great cocktail.

Before you were about to say to Austin what you wanted to order, while you're both standing at the bar, a boisterous voice cuts through the music and random chatter of the crowd like glass. You recognize that husky sing-song anywhere. Carmine Tenaglia, also goes by C. He's the oldest son to Antonio. You can always tell when Carmine enters a room because you can hear him before you see him. His voice has taken a bit of a beating, sounding like he smokes about 4 packs a day. He wasn't blessed with conventional good looks like Pellegrino, but he's rough around the edges in a bad boy kind of way that gets the attention from women. His big brown eyes can melt butter, but behind those eyes is a fire that screams "don't fuck with me." He never lets his hair down, he always keeps is slicked back with gel and a side part. And he dresses to the nines. Clearly, he loves the life and everything that comes with it. Out of all the Tenaglia brothers, he enjoys spending money on clothes, cars, and fancy dates - even though he's married. But what his wife doesn't know won't hurt her, according to his logic.

Carmine is imposing, loud, but most of all he commands respect from everyone he meets. As the oldest son, he likes to think he takes charge over his father. And sometimes he will give out orders on behest of the family name before consulting with the other men. You know better than to try and cause problems with him. When he drinks, you never know what Carmine is capable of.

Carmine pushes through the crowd of dancers, and you can now clearly see the Italian man making his way over to you both. He has a nice smile surrounded by his typical 5 o'clock shadow he sports. And of course he's in his Saturday best with a matching black suit adorned with gaudy gold jewelry. "Hey! Look at youse! If I had a nickel for every time I'd see you two attached at the hip i'd be a millionaire." He said, laughing heartily. "Come 'ere, you son of a bitch!" He said, pulling Austin around by the shoulders. Austin laughed and embraced Carmine with a bear hug.

"Hey C, nice to see you." Austin said in the man's ear. After a few seconds of a warm familial hug, Carmine pulls away and looks over Austin, patting him on the shoulders roughly, clearly a Tenaglia family trait of brotherly rough-housing that got passed down.

"Man, you always look like a million bucks. You must go to the same tailor I do. Sanduskies on 34th Street will have you going from rags to riches in a few stitches. Hey, they should use that as their tagline." Carmine chuckled, thinking he's the funniest man since Richard Prior.

Austin blushed and patted Carmine on the back. "I learned from the best." He said, sweetly.

Carmine grabbed Austin by the face with his hands and kissed both his cheeks in typical Italian fashion.

"Oh Marone! Now ain't you a sight for sore eyes." He said, eyeing you once over. "Come give me a hug, you look terrific." Carmine gestured you over with a wave of his hand adorned with rings, his gold chain bracelet rustling along his wrist.

You smiled and hugged Carmine warmly. "Thank you Carmine. Are you here alone?" You asked when you pulled away from the hug - not seeing his latest flavor of the week on his arm.

Carmine shook his head. "Nah, you know me I ain't ever alone. The young buck with little miss fire engine is in tow." He said. The young buck is a nickname he gave to Pellegrino, and little miss fire engine is in reference to Tiffany, if it wasn't obvious enough.

And as if on command, the handsome italian man with his gorgeous redheaded wife make their way over to the three of you.

"Hey, what's going on Austin? Y/N?" Happily said Green. He flashed a warm smile, his olive eyes friendly as he greeted you both with quick hugs.

Carmine laughed. "See, it's a family affair."

"It's nice to see you too, C." Said Tiffany playfully, slapping his arm.

Austin placed one of his hands behind him on the bar countertop. "You guys should get a table before they fill up."

Green raised his brow and threw his arm around Austin's shoulder. "Come join us for a bit, man. It's good to catch up with you." Green narrowed his captivating eyes on you. "Is it okay if we steal him away from you for a little while, Bambi?" He asked. Bambi was the nickname the men gave you, and it's a double meaning. Bambi is short for bambino which means baby in Italian. And Bambi is also in reference to the film because you're as ethereal and beautiful as a doe eyed deer. The nickname coming from Pellegrino pulls at your heartstrings.

"Oh, I suppose I can find a way to live without my marito." You said in a playful longing tone. Marito is one of your many petnames for Austin, and it means husband in italian. Of course, being adopted into an Italian family you learn some choice words.

Austin winked at you and pressed his soft lips to yours in a simple but tender brush of his mouth. "I'll be right back, babygirl." He said in a sultry low tone.

You shivered at his baritone and nodded, chewing on your bottom lip as you drank in the lingering taste of whiskey from the kiss he left behind.

In a flash, the three men waltzed their way to a smokey corner of the club. Tiffany stayed behind with you.

"I'll keep you company, honey. Besides, I wanna dance. Let's boogie." She said perky as ever. And how could you not oblige your best friend? You linked arms with the fair redhead, making your way to the dance floor.

As time passes on, Austin is still lounging at a round table with Carmine and Pellegrino. They nurse their drinks and smoke cigarettes, catching up on their day.

You and Tiffany have barely left the dance floor. With your experience as Club Owner, you've noticed that it helps to bring customers back to Tease when they see you so eager to dance alongside everybody else. And you're not gonna pass up an opportunity to have a good time. The music makes you sway to the funky rhythms. The skirt of your dress twirls around you as you and Tiff join hands in sliding on the dance floor.

You were so caught up in the moment of the dance with your friend that you barely noticed a familiar man making his way to you slyly from the corner of your eye. Out of your peripheral you caught him. One of the oggling Italian men from the table you had greeted earlier was bold enough to slither his way to your side. He paid no attention to Tiffany, making his beeline straight towards you. The man was alone, so you thought perhaps this situation could turn out okay given that the right steps are taken.

You tried your best to not look over at him, hoping he would get the hint and go away. Unfortunately, he wasn't gonna care if you took notice of him or not. He was gonna make himself known regardless.

A gross, creepy smirk plays at his thin lips. You can smell the stench of his cuban cigar and bourbon overwhelm your senses, making your stomach churn.

"Care to dance, bella mia?" He asked, sounding heavily intoxicated. His slurred words fumble out of him, but even in his drunken state he attempts to exert dominance over the situation. His beady eyes scan the curves of your body and you wanna crawl out of your skin at the thought of the nasty things he's probably thinking about you right now.

Tiffany eyes him cautiously and then looks over at you to gauge your reaction. You clear your throat and briefly make eye contact with him. "No thank you. The only man I dance with is my husband." You assert strongly. Hoping that was enough to get the drunk wise guy off your case.

He doesn't take to kindly to that. He cockily raises his thick black brows. "Come on, sugar. We both know that Blondie doesn't satisfy you. You need a man like me to show you what's what." He says, stifling back a hiccup.

"You've got some nerve saying that to me when you know exactly who my husband is." You say, letting go of Tiff's grip and crossing your arms over your chest. The v-neck cut of your dress shows off your round breasts, and unfortunately you regret crossing your arms now because the weirdo makes no attempt to hide the fact he's staring right down your cleavage. You not only feel dirty, but revolted.

The Italian man doesn't back down. In a loud manner he raises his voice and flails his hands around as he talks for emphasis, and he takes a step forward to get closer to you. "I know exactly who your husband is, and frankly I don't give a fuck about them pansy-ass Tenaglia's. People know me 'round these parts. I could snap my fingers and your husband would be an obituary in Sunday's papers. What I want, I get. Now, lemme ask you again. And this time, be smart with your answer. Would you care to dance with me?" He bites back, not leaving any room for interpretation of his words.

He's making such a scene that the dancers around you all are eyeing the both of you with a concerned look on their faces, and some of them stop dancing entirely to watch the scene unfold, not knowing what to do.

"Not a chance in hell, you don't scare me." You retort. While you are visibly shaking, you don't want to give the guy the satisfaction of knowing you are intimidated. He'd be a first class fool to make even more of a scene with half of the Tenaglia crew waiting in the wings. He's so drunk that you don't even take his threats seriously.

The Italian man simply stands there, hands ball up into tight fists. He dryly chuckles, and purses his lips. "Wrong answer, sweetheart."

Sensing trouble afoot and seeing that this guy isn't leaving, Tiffany chimes in and comes to your aid. "Listen here, you take one more step and I'll yank those hair plugs right off your head. My husband is also a Tenaglia and he'll beat the shit out of you." The redhead says with as much sass and fervor as she can muster. She's not one to always get into confrontations, but for you and her family she'll cuss out whoever she needs to.

The man places one of his heeled boots in front of the other, daring to go against Tiffany's warning. "You broads think you're tough shit, huh?" He exclaims, his voice raising an octave with his anger. "Seems like ain't nobody put you bitches in your place. Well, you're about to get a firm lesson with the back of my hand." He says, raising his right hand adorned with chunky gold rings.

Suddenly it's all happening so fast you can barely process what's happening. Tiffany pushes you back and attempts to step into the line of fire, bringing her arms up to deflect the man's hand in time. But you two don't have to worry about a thing. What you didn't know was that the Tenaglia's caught the tail end of the situation. It was hard not to when the man was making such a ruckus on the dancefloor. This idiot dared to show disrespect to Tiffany and to you, which cuts through even deeper because this is your club. Pellegrino and Austin watched on for a minute with furious anger as the man was making idle threats to the family and imposing himself onto their wives. Like hell they were gonna stand there and not do something about it. The men down their drinks and make their dissent, on a one-way mission to teach this guy a lesson.

Carmine, Pellegrino, and Austin march their way over to the dance floor and push through the bewildered crowd of dancers. Austin is fuming, and he looks like he's about to go into a blind rage. He walks with determination, fists wound tightly by his sides. He's seeing red.

"Back away from my wife, you motherfucker." Austin bellowed. He grabbed hold of the man's shoulder and spun him around so he was face to face with the scumbag. Austin's right fist swung hard and fast, connecting into the italian man's face, making him see stars.

Both you and Tiffany stood back, mouths agape and looking on with shock. You can't believe the situation took a turn for the worse. Pellegrino steps to the side and ushers you and Tiff away from the violence on the floor. Meanwhile, Carmine and Austin were ontop of the man as fast as lightening. There's no chance they're letting this guy get away unpunished. They were gonna use him as an example to every other wise guy in the club that if you act like vermin you're gonna get treated as such. Austin landed another devastating punch to his face, and Carmine wrapped his arms around him in a bind to stifle the man from fighting back.

"Get this fucking guy out of here." Austin huffed. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure. "Bring him out back." He commanded. Carmine nodded and grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck, heading towards the back exit of the club. Pellegrino was hot on the heels of Carmine, grabbing one of the arms of the beaten man and holding him in a vice grip.

People weren't sure if they should continue dancing or if they should head out early. But the DJ clicked on the intercom, making an announcement to assure people everything was fine and to resume dancing as normal. So the disco music never ceased to play loudly over the speakers, as if nothing had happened. It's a surreal combination to experience the cheery, jazzy beats swelling in your ears coupled with the the intense emotions on the dancefloor.

Before Austin followed Carmine and Pellegrino outside, he shot a quick glance in your direction, checking in on you. His baby blues were stormy with anger. He softened a little bit seeing your face and scared eyes, but he knew this was all in an effort to protect you. So he soldiered on.

The backdoor sprang open, the blinding light from the outside world is a jarring juxtaposition from the dark atmosphere inside the club. Carmine threw the italian man down onto the ground without a care, pushing him outside. He stumbled and spit blood out onto the cobblestones below him.

Pellegrino followed after Carmine, grabbing onto the shirt collar of the man on the ground and forcing him to his feet. "Get the fuck up." He was just as upset this slimy guy disrespected Tiffany, and he was gonna get in a good swing when he could - he'd patiently wait his turn. Right now, Austin was intent on fucking this guy up.

Austin was the last one out, and he slammed the door behind him with a loud thud. Carmine and Green held onto either arm of the scared italian man, pinning him to the brick wall opposite the club. He was no match for the strong Tenaglia's.

Austin, with a sneer on his face, rolled up his shirt sleeves. "You think you're some fucking tough guy. Coming into my club, drinking my liquor, and making a pass on my wife. And after I welcomed you and your buddies so kindly. You must be a real chump." He said haughtily.

The italian man slurred his speech even more, the blood dribbling out of his mouth. He shot daggers into Austin. "I guess Blondie's got balls after all." He said tauntingly, getting in one last petty blow. Carmine and Green looked at each other and then down at the man, amazed that he actually has the gall to talk back in the predicament he finds himself in. Those would be his final words. He was digging himself an early grave.

Austin rolled his head around his neck, the cracks vibrating off of the brick, and he rounded his shoulders back. Not wasting any more precious time, Austin landed punch after punch on the man's face. Blood was flying every which way. His blonde waves unkempt and fell over the slope of his forehead as he brought his fists back and smashed into the scumbag's face - it was crumpling beneath his hand like an overly ripe tomato. The man wailed as he had to stand there and take the blows. Meanwhile, Austin was grunting like wild animal, his knuckles getting swollen by the second. He was determined and couldn't think straight. All his years of studying the art of boxing has finally come in handy. And by God he was gonna fling all of his might and fury into this lowlife's face.

Carmine and Pellegrino kept holding firm onto the man, wincing slightly as to not get too close to Austin's blows. After what seemed like eternity, Austin landed one last punch square in the mouth and backed away heaving ragged breaths, gulping down fresh air into his lungs. He pointed his index finger right into the man's bruised and bloodied face. "I swear to God, if you even so much as look at my wife again i'll rip your eyes out of their sockets." He spit out aggressively.

Carmine laughed and looked over the victim. "Nice work, Butler. I think the asshole learned his lesson. Never fuck with the Tenaglia's." He smiled devilishly.

Austin put his hands over his hips and nodded at the men. Carmine and Green took the blonde's non verbal queue and released their grip on the bloody pulp of a man, who immediately fell into a heap on the cold alley floor with a groan. Carmine spit down towards the man on the ground, and walked over to Austin cool as a cucumber.

Pellegrino however was not about to walk away without landing one blow for his own pride. He crouched down and landed a punch so hard he knocked a few teeth from the beaten up Italian man's mouth. "That was for my wife, you rat." He said with sour resentment.

Carmine walked over to Green and placed his hands over his shoulders. "Come on fratellino, don't get your nice suit all dirty with this fucko's blood. The stains are a bitch to get out." He says, trying to cut through the seriousness with a morbid joke. Green huffed and nodded, walking back into the club and disappearing from the scene of the crime - he fears if he stays for a second longer he'll lose his composure even more. He had done his part, nothing more was needed. Carmine brushed the dirt off his shoulders and he too stepped back into the club. And now there were two.

Austin stared down at the pathetic man below him, feeling empowered. It felt damn good to deliver swift justice on behalf of his wife. And he hoped this beating taught the man a powerful lesson. Respect means just as much to any Italian clan as loyalty. Without respect, you might as well be considered dead. He knew as soon as he gawked openly at his wife at the table that Austin was gonna have his hands full. He never thought however that it would take a turn like this, and so swiftly. But he would do it again all the same knowing that he protected you.

With one final passing glance at the man on the floor, Austin turned around and opened the exit door, walking back into the club.

Everyone seemingly enough forgot about the altercation that just took place. The music kept blaring and the drinks kept pouring. But you were still on the sidelines of the dancefloor. And one by one you saw the Tenaglia brothers walk back inside. Carmine tapped Green on the shoulder, whispering something into his ear, and Green nodded. Carmine walked off towards the front door of the club while Green headed back over to the men's table.

You were looking for Austin when finally you saw him rush back into the club, looking disheveled. You can feel his anger from a mile away. He made a beeline for the men's bathroom, with both hands he pushed the door open forcefully, disappearing inside.

While against your better judgement to follow your husband into the men's bathroom, you wanted to make sure he was okay. No one had exited the bathroom, so you assume that he's alone in there. Thinking that it was safe to make a move, you start to make your way over to the bathroom, and timidly open the door.

"Austin?" Your angelic voice calls out to him sweetly as you peek open the door, not wanting to barge right in. You can't see a lot from your vantage point except for the running water in one of the porcelain sinks as Austin stands over it.

"Come in and close the door, honey." Austin said as his voice waivers, still riled up from the events that just transpired.

You immediately shuffle in and close the door behind you, turning the lock so that no one would try to interrupt and see the mess. You're in shock when you see Austin standing over the bathroom sink, the water turning a shade of pink as he washed the copious amount of blood off of hands. You've never seen Austin like this before. He was amazing at using his words to win in a fight if need be, but he never resorted to physical violence. This was a new hat that Austin was wearing at at first you aren't sure what to make of it.

Austin sensed your nervousness as you just stood by the door fiddling with your hands, not venturing inside. He turned his head over to you, capturing your eyes in a searing look. The disgust was still prevalent as it rolled off him in droves, but he started to melt seeing his beautiful wife look so innocent, unaware that he just beat a man within an inch of his life just a minute ago. And it was all because of her.

The corners of his lips curled up slightly in a soft smile. "Don't worry baby, this isn't my blood." He said, trying to pacify the situation and put you at ease. As if knowing it was someone else's blood makes it any better.

"Are you okay?" You ask shyly.

Austin nodded. "I'm maybe a little shaken up, but i'm fine. it's you that i'm concerned about." He says, getting back to washing his hands in the sink with some soap.

Your high heels click against the white linoleum tiles as you make your way over to Austin's side. You place one of your hands lovingly on his shoulder. He feels tense under your hand at first, but once he feels the warmth of you he starts to relax.

You look into the sink and see Austin's hands up close. His knuckles are red and swollen, they must really hurt. You can only imagine what the other guy looks like right now if Austin came back with these battle scars. You shiver uncomfortably at the thought. You'd rather not know.

You move to stand behind Austin, and your arms wrap around his waist, bringing his body into your soft curves. He brings his head back up to look at you through the bathroom mirror. Even in your high heels you were still considerably shorter than he was.

He sighed deeply, turning the faucet off and letting one of his battered hands rest on the ledge of the countertop, while the other one placed tenderly over your hands around his front.

"I've never seen you like that before. It's like you had a fire behind your eyes that couldn't be extinguished. When I saw you walking out back I thought you were gonna kill him." You said, muffled into his shoulder blade.

He looked at you through the mirror with weary eyes. "I almost did, but not on purpose. The bastard had it coming. No one ever dares to lay a hand on you. If they're stupid enough they can try but I'm always gonna be there to protect you. You're my wife, my most cherished earthly possession." He paused briefly to turn around in your arms and he brought his hands up to show you the damage. The water trickled down his long fingers mixing with the residual blood on his knuckles. Your brow furrowed with worry seeing just how scarred his beautiful hands were. "And this is what happens when someone tries to tarnish my treasure." He said matter of factly.

You sighed, your hands carefully cradling his and inspecting them further. You bring the back of his right hand to your lips and press a featherlight kiss to his skin, staring up at his ocean eyes.

Austin winced a little bit, but the brief glimpse of faint pain turned into pleasure as he let out a throaty whimper. You continued to place gentle, easy kisses along his rugged hands, peppering them with love as you dote on him tenderly. Your face nuzzled into the palm of his right hand, your lips brushing up against the sore pad of his thumb as you bring the digit into your wet mouth, sucking slowly.

"Babygirl." Austin sighed longingly.

You wanted nothing more than to take care of your man. He's never had the proper moment to defend your honor before tonight, and in such a violent way no less. While it scared you at first seeing Austin punch the lights out of a wise guy who definitely deserved it, and was foaming at the mouth with rage ready to rip his head off his shoulders, your body is on fire - not with anger, but with a swell of burning passion. He came to your aid and protected you. While that might frighten off any young girl who would probably pack her bags the minute their husband beat the shit out of somebody and comes back with bloody hands, you were different. This is the life you inadvertently signed up for. Plus, you're no ordinary woman. You have to admit the truth - it turned you on like no other.

And seemingly Austin felt the same way, as you could feel his growing erection pressing into your stomach the longer you smother his inflamed hands with spellbinding kisses, bringing him back down to Earth. You never thought aggression like that would make you wetter than a waterfall, but there's always a first time for everything.

You hummed around his thumb, your long lashes fluttered as you continued to stare up at your man, who was slowly coming undone Infront of you. You release his thumb from your mouth with a pop and your hands roamed over his chest. You let your fingers trace over the gold cross necklace that dangled in the tufts of blonde chest hairs. Something about this very symbol of devotion to God being worn around his neck while he was beating that horrid man out back to smithereens in your honor made the coil in your stomach wind tight and your pussy throb with desire. You needed Austin, and now.

You lock eyes with Austin's blues, heavy lidded with lust, and bite your lip. "We don't have much time before we have to head back out there and play the role of Club Owners. But you're not leaving this room until you've shot every ounce of your cum down my throat. As your wife, that's what I want."

Austin moaned at your bold, heated statement. He licked his lips and cradled your face in his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. "As your husband, who am I to deny you?" He says huskily.

He crashed his lips onto yours, moaning into your mouth. Your tongues probing each others mouths, lapping back and forth for mutual dominance. His tired hands roam the expanse of your body, greedily palming the flesh of your ass, bringing you closer to his hard body. Your hands trailed down to the waistband of his slacks and hurriedly unbuttoned and unzipped them. To your surprise Austin went commando under his pants, but this allowed you for easy and quick access to the part of him you yearned for.

You let one of your small hands palm his cock, letting your fingers dance along his velvet length. He shakes in your hand, softly moaning against your parted mouth at the contact of your warm hand over his aching desire. You don't want to waste any more time, you need him right now. Going down easy, you kneel down in front of him, perched prettily on your high heels. Your hands reach up to his open pants, pulling them down Austin's long legs and letting the fabric pool at his ankles. The cool breeze hits his lower half for the first time, and his hard cock throbs in your face at the sweet release. The poor thing is already red and leaking with pre-cum. It won't take him long at all to deliver on his promise of filling your throat with his load. But you want to savor the feel of him for as long as you can. Sweetly, you place kisses all along the underside of his shaft and make your way back towards the tip. Austin blushes at you lavishing his manhood - you take such good care of him, he's in awe of the wonder of you - his darling wife. Your tongue slips past your lips and you lick the red and puffy head.

Austin tilts his head back and moans "Jesus fuck, I need your mouth on my cock so bad, baby."

His plea makes you wet, and you're gonna make sure he fully enjoys the messiest blowjob you're prepared to bestow upon him. You let a generous amount of spit gather in your mouth and you allow the drool to pour out over his cock, coating him nice and good. You wrap both hands around his engorged cock, giving him a few pumps and earning you throaty, hoarse, whiny moans from Austin above you.

Finally, your mouth parts and you take him into your mouth. You play with just the tip for now, sucking the sensitive head in your mouth and stroking his shaft. You moan around him like a good girl, making him shiver.

"Oh yeah. My girl knows how to suck me good." He moans delightfully. All the little whimpers and throaty groans he makes is like music to your ears, and you've barely gotten started. He's just as down bad for you as you are for him. Your panties collect all of the spilled nectar from your pussy, and you wish he could sample how good you taste. But there's plenty of time for that later. Right now, Austin's pleasure is all you care about.

Slowly, you start to sink your mouth down around his cock, taking him further into your mouth. You place both of your hands on the backs of his thick thighs, stroking him lovingly as you set to getting to work. You create a strong vacuum seal with your mouth, wrapping tightly around his throbbing cock and begin to bob your head up and down along his length. It's beyond messy, and drool is falling out the corners of your mouth, making his cock slippery as he slides deliciously along your wet tongue. Droplets of your saliva fall to the floor Infront of you. He grows heavy and harder by the second, making you work your little mouth off to satisfy every single glorious inch of your husband's heavenly made cock.

He knits his brows together, his eyes heavy and glazed over in pure ecstasy at the sight of his wife on her knees sucking him off while there's a packed room full of patrons right outside the door. He hoped the music was loud enough to disguise his obvious moans.

"Fuck. Just like that, baby. Your mouth is incredible." Austin groans desperately.

You gurgle around his cock as you pick up the pace just a little, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You relax your jaw to accommodate his impressive size. Somehow he's even bigger today. Perhaps all the adrenaline from a few moments ago is rushing straight to his cock. He's a needy and whimpering mess up above you. His hands card through your soft silky hair, holding on for dear life as he brings you further along his cock. He's lost in the feeling of your warm, sloppy mouth milking his shaft - somehow, even though you've been married for some time, you make every sexual experience with Austin feel like the first time all over again. He doesn't know what the hell he did to deserve you. Never has a woman gotten down on her knees for him and sucked the soul straight through his cock, determined to make him see stars. At this point he doesn't give a fuck who he has to beat up if it's all in the name of protecting you, and getting his dick wet in you after.

You moan around him, never letting up on the rumbling vibration from your mouth penetrate straight through his cock and through to his aching balls, which are desperate to unleash their load.

His body starts to shake, you know he's close. His plush lips form an O shape as he lets out a raspy, deep moan. "I-I'm gonna cum."

In one last final move to put him over the edge, you bring one of your hands back to his base, and your mouth sloppily sucks off his engorged tip once more. You know this is his finishing move. His head is so sensitive and you know he can come in record time with this combo of jerking him off and blowing his puffy tip. You make obscene sloshing noises around his cock, the sound of his wet skin in your hand echoes off of the bathroom tiles. If anybody were to walk past the bathroom right now they'd think a porno was being filmed in here. Your hand milks his shaft while your mouth works his throbbing tip.

Austin lets his head fall back. "Oh god yes, i'm cuming." He groans in a needy high pitch for his baritone. "Take my load down your throat. Take all of me." He moans thickly and dark.

And you do, happily. His hips stutter as he heaves ragged breaths, his salty cum gushing into your mouth. You sputter around his cock as you swallow every last drop of your husband's cum. You moan once more around him before pulling back, ensuring you devoured every morsel his precious seed. His cock springs free from your mouth and nearly slaps you in the face as the wave of his orgasm courses through his body. You lick your lips of the remnants of his cum on your mouth.

Austin's hands reach down to grasp your forearms, helping you up onto your feet. You wobble a little, and you'd be lying if you said your feet weren't killing you from crouching on the balls of your heeled feet for the duration of your sloppy blowjob. But it was worth it to see the warm, sultry look over Austin's face. He was love drunk on you.

He tucked himself back into his pants and fumbled to button and zip up his trousers, but he managed to do it. He smiles and brings you in to his lips for a passionate kiss, not caring if he can taste himself on your tongue.

You're about to step to the side of him, making your move to unlock the bathroom door as your mission to seduce your husband was a success, but he stops you. He takes you in his arms and pins you up against the edge of the sink. You gasp when he bends down and his hands grip the backs of your thighs. With a grunt, he places you up onto the counter, and settles in-between your parted legs.

"Let's see how fast I can make you cum." Austin says seductively with a devilish twinkle in his eyes. This was certainly not what you were expecting, but you're not complaining.

You don't even have time to respond before Austin spits on two of his long fingers, and with the other one he shifts your soaked panties to the side. He's not surprised when his fingers make contact with your dripping folds that you were soaking wet. You whimper at his fingers dipping in deep into your sweet cunt. Your juices coat his swollen, rough fingers, your pussy lips drawing him in as far as he can go. And without a moment to lose, his fingers disappear into your heat.

"Austin!" You moan loudly as you feel his fingers enter you and brush against your g-spot. Oh, he's in deep. He's so deep in fact that you feel full of him instantly. Austin is buried knuckles deep in your sopping cunt. Your hands grip onto his broad shoulders for support.

"Mm. Always so wet and tight for me at a moments notice. My perfect wife." He moans sexily.

He doesn't take his time, he meant what he said by how quickly he can make you cum. He's set for the task at hand. And he's willing to bet it will only take you a minute with his skilled fingers, perfectly in sync with your body, knowing exactly what you need to set you over the edge.

Keeping his fingers the deepest they can possibly go inside you, he begins to finger fuck you hard and fast. Your slick sputters around his fingers and gush out around him. It sounds so fucking wet.

"Oh god, yes!" You squeal. He knows exactly how and where to press all your buttons to make you squirm in the best way possible. And right now he's blasting your cunt so good you can't even think straight.

You let your head fall back and the breathy whines escape your mouth. Austin groans at the sound of your juicy pussy sloshing your slick around his fingers. The obscene thought that these same fingers were soaked in that man's blood crossed your mind. But the violence Austin's hands endured only moments ago is replaced with primal pleasure, and his girl's heavenly nectar washing away the blood stains.

Austin clenches his jaw and grits his teeth. His hand is worse for wear and it's not helping matters that he's pounding into your soft heat with his beaten up hand, but there was no way he was letting his girl walk out of here without being treated to a good fuck.

"Fuck! You're so good." You moan. Austin is unrelenting on his brutal pace. He's not letting his fingers slip too far out of you either. He's keeping them cemented deep down inside your pussy, his fingers brushing up against your g-spot and bruising your cervix with every thrust. The open palm of his hand barely grazes your clit, and your walls clamp down hard around his fingers, causing him to bite his lip and moan. He brings his other hand around your front and brushes your clit in determined circles. "Oh my god, Aus!" You whine. You feel his biceps flex hard underneath your hands as he expertly churns the coil down at the vast depths of your dripping wet pussy. It's getting him hard all over again.

Austin's lip twitches into a coy side smirk. His dimples making an appearance. "You like this, baby? You like knowing these fingers stuffed full in your pussy were defending your honor? Hear how wet you are for me, darlin. All your heavenly juices are mine. I wanna fuckin' drown in it. Make a mess of me." Austin moaned, never daring to look away from your eyes that were welling up with tears of pure bliss.

Your body trembled as you felt yourself getting closer to your climax. You allowed yourself to moan to the high heavens, not caring how loud you were being. In fact, you wanted everyone to know that Austin Butler was bringing you to your wettest orgasm you've ever had.

"This pussy is yours baby. Take all of it! Oh F-Fuck, im gonna cum!" You squeal, your walls fluttering around his fingers.

Austin groaned. "That's it, my love. Give it to me." He said, huskily.

With a few final, brutal thrusts of his fingers, your pussy spasmed hard around him, groaning loudly and shouting Austin's name. Sweat drips down Austin's forehead, his blonde waves tousled out of place looking unkempt yet effortlessly sexy. Your body collapses in a heap on the bathroom counter, and Austin braces you with one hand. He keeps himself inside you for a little longer as you ride your orgasm to completion. When he thinks you've crash-landed, he pulls his fingers soaked through to the bone with your cum out of your swollen pussy. Austin bit his lip and admired how his bruised knuckled glistened with your arousal. He brought them into his mouth and sucked them clean, moaning in delight at the delicious flavor of you.

"Holy shit, Austin." You breathed heavily, laughing a little.

"I think that was record time." He said, giggling cutely.

You smiled and pulled him by the shirt collar into a soft kiss. Pulling away, you inspect his hand. "That probably didn't feel good to your hand. I'm sorry, honey." You said.

Austin blew off your apology. "Nothing to even be sorry about," He placed his hands around the small of your waist and hoisted you up, helping you back down onto the ground. "Besides, I think your pussy was the miracle elixir I needed to get my hand on the mend." He said, flashing you an adorably crooked wink at you.

You laughed, playfully slapping his chest. Austin jumped back a little and chuckled heartily.

"Just so we don't look like we spent the last 20 minutes in here fucking like rabbits, I think you should go out first and then I'll follow you shortly." You said smiling, still regaining your composure. You know you're gonna be walking funny for a few hours. Your pussy took a rigorous beating, but it's a sore feeling you wholeheartedly accept.

Austin stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets. He looks like a freshly watered pot of daisies. His angry temperament had faded away long ago. You were his cure. He nodded. "Okay, suit yourself baby. Don't wait too long though. This is the men's room after all." He laughed.

"I won't, I promise." You reassured him sweetly.

Austin winked again and puckered his lips, kissing the air in your direction before turning around. He unlocked the bathroom door and glanced back at you one last time with his beautiful eyes that were sparkling, and a cute smile on his face before he walked away. The disco lights and the blaring music from the outside world briefly showed itself. Reminding you of where you were.

You sighed and looked at yourself in the mirror. Your shaking hands smoothed over the front of your dress. You cleaned yourself up as best you good. And you attempted to fix your hair that had fallen out of place. Luckily you made sure to put a little travel size bottle of hairspray in the mens and womens bathrooms for your guests to touch up their hair after dancing, so you took the aquanet and sprayed a generous amount on your coiffure. After fluffing your hair once more, you decided enough time had passed and you were safe to exit the bathroom without no one the wiser.

Your feet were on fire, and you wanted nothing more than to get out of these heels. But you still had a few more hours of work before you and Austin could head home. You gingerly pushed the door open, and suddenly you were back into the dark world of Tease. You walked further into the club, and seemingly nobody noticed you. So your plan worked.

Your eyes scanned over every corner until you found Austin again, who was back at the bar talking with Green and Tiffany. Carmine still wasn't anywhere to be found, at least from where you were standing. You assumed maybe he left early. And while that was a little odd for a man that thrives on being out and not at home with his wife, you shrugged off the thought.

But your stomach dropped when you noticed the gang of Italian wise guys that you had greeted at the table earlier in the evening. They looked like to be in a hurry to scamper out of here. You didn't spot any sign of the sleezeball who had attempted to pimp slap you on the dancefloor though. Maybe he had gotten the obvious hint and left. The way the men were tightly grouped together and walking like they mean business made the little nagging voice in the back of your head spring to life. Something was wrong.

The men had opened the exit door where Green, Carmine, and Austin had once been earlier. Why were they sneaking out the back when they could just walk out the front door? Going against your better instincts, you decide to follow them from a considerable distance away. This was probably the worst idea, but you had a bad feeling about this, and you were gonna find out what it was to quell your nerves.

You hung back as the exit door swung open and you caught a glimpse of the men bending down to the cold alley floor and picking up mister hair plugs, who seemingly was still laying on the ground and never left his spot the entire time you and Austin had your quickie.

In the light you finally saw the damage Austin had done to the man. You gasped when you saw the black eyes, missing teeth, and blood still pouring from his mouth. You made sure to hide in the shadows so the men didn't see you from the inside. He barely resembled the man you had seen on the dancefloor.

"Jesus Christ, they somehow made you even uglier." Said one of the younger suits.

"Shut your big mouth, Tommy. Just pick him up." Barked the older Italian man you knew to definitely be the ring leader of the pack. You recognized him from earlier - he said all those nice things to you and Austin about Tease and your marriage. You hoped he was still one of the good ones out of the bunch. You couldn't account for the others.

The man on the ground moaned in pain like an injured dog. Tommy and the young fella who you vaguely recognized from the table, plus the older gentleman was flanking the beaten man. And slowly but surely, the scumbag rose to his feet. He could barely hold himself up, he was leaning on his men for help. He spit out a generous helping of blood onto the cobblestones, a trail of the viscous red fluid started to stain his suit and corn starch stiff button down shirt.

"Well, what the fuck do we do know?" Said young wise guy number 2, who's name you still hadn't figured out yet.

"We gotta get him back home, that's what the fuck we do." Retorted Tommy.

"Ey. Just zip your fuckin' pie holes all youse, and keep Michael on his feet." Says the older man. You learned another new piece of information. The man who made the bold move against you and Tiffany was named Michael. You jotted that down for safe keeping. You wish you could remember what Italian family they belong to. All you knew was the older man who was the head honcho, who's name alludes you. You have Michael the fuckwit, and Tommy the bigmouth. You also had the other young suit who looked to be Austin's age and was struggling to keep it together.

The man who you gathered now was Tommy peered out into the street, making sure the coast was clear before he waved the other men in the alley with his hand to signal it was good to move.

Before the group of men made their final dissent into the street, you heard Michael utter something that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention, and send a bone chilling shiver down your spine.

"Blondie and his fucking whore wife are gonna regret this day." He said with as much bitter resentment as possible. He spit out more blood before letting his head roll in front of him. It looked like he passed out as his eyes were closed, and the no-name, scared shitless gangster was slapping his face, trying to keep him conscious.

"We'll deal with them Tenaglia motherfuckers later. Move your asses. We're good to go here." Loudly whispered Tommy. And as quickly as they came, they vanished into the hazy Brooklyn streets.

You closed the door and stood there in a stupor, trying to process what you just heard. These guys seemed like they're not to be trifled with. But you can't know for sure. You've meet half a dozen Italian mafiosos who were all bark and no bite. While you knew Michael was in no condition to do anything to enact on a revenge scheme, you weren't sure about the other men. The scaredy-cat goodfella might not be a threat, but that Tommy guy definitely had a vendetta to enact. They all seem like loose canons, and you couldn't really pin any of them down. And that terrified you. What did he mean by "dealing" with the Teneglia's later? You weren't sure. And you weren't waiting long to find out.

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infiniteimaginings · 17 days

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He's Still My Father (Father!Count Olaf x GN!Child!Reader) [Platonic]

Summary: You are Count Olafs child from a woman he truly loved, who is now gone due to...unfortunate events. You meet the Baudelaires who are now suffering in the care of your father, will you help them? Or are you really your fathers child? Pronouns: You/Yours, ‘Child’ Warnings: Typical ASOUE timeline events, and not a good father child relationship Word Count: 2.0k A/N: God, I was planning the layout of the post to add the fic and I am an idiot and posted it before it was ready. So I had to delete it and then deleted it WITH the request by accident. I am so sorry to whoever requested. It's here now though, I'm so sorry, I love you so much, thank you for requesting. I'm just stupid lmao, I hope you like it, I hope you remember you requested to me. I'm so sorry again.

The Baudelaire children, Violet, Klaus, and Sunny were orphans. After their parents' tragic death in a house fire, they were sent to live with their closest living relative. That relative's name was Count Olaf.

He was pale, tall, and extremely thin. He had grayish white receding hair, a long unibrow, a hooked nose, and a tattoo of an eye on his ankle. He was unsettling to look at. The Baudelaires tried to look past his appearance and the appearance of the home that didn’t look lived in. They tried but Count Olaf showed his true colors the moment Mr Poe, the banker responsible for the children's fortune left to them by their parents, had left the grounds. Olaf was greedy, obsessive, rude, and vile.

The only thing even slightly keeping the children afloat in the terrible conditions was the neighbor across the street and Count Olafs child, you.

Your father was the worst man the Baudelaires had come to know, so they didn’t know what to think of you. You were quiet as he spoke, standing to his side, chest puffed out and proud. You occasionally joined in dance numbers and ate with the troop, but other than that you weren’t necessarily acknowledged. For all the Baudelaires knew, you could be just as horrible as your father.

After the dinner that went terribly wrong, the three were in the attic. Klaus was holding his cheek that was slightly bruised due to Count Olaf slapping him at the table, he was sat against the wall. Violet was across the room putting Sunny to sleep. There was silence in the air, nothing but the sounds of crickets since their window wouldn’t close that night.

Through the silence, soft footsteps were barely heard, they were drawing near the room the Baudelaires were in. Violet turned her head quickly and stood in front of the makeshift area they made for Sunny and Kalus stood in front of the door, waiting for Olaf to enter the room.

The door slowly and quietly opened and your head peeked in to see if they were asleep. The two eldest Baudelaires were still on guard, but their defense lowered a bit when they saw it was just you.

“Oh, you guys are awake, good.” You told them, walking into the room and shutting the door quietly. Klaus and Violet looked at each other, having a silent conversation but neither had an answer for why you were there.

You cleared your throat, bringing attention back to you. You danced on your heels slightly, “If you guys are done with,” You waved your hand towards them, “whatever it is you guys are doing.” You finished, sighing a bit, “I brought a med kit.”

Klaus’s eyes narrowed at you but Violet gave you a weak smile. “A med kit?” She asked, smoothing her dress, walking to you. You nodded and handed it to her awkwardly, looking to the floor, “Dinner was quite brutal…so I snuck it out of my fathers bathroom.” You mumbled, kicking the wood on the ground a bit.

Violet's smile was soft towards you, as were her eyes. She took the medicine kit from your slightly trembling hands, “Thank you.” She told you gently, trying to catch your eyes. When you met her eyes you just looked away, rubbing your neck. “That was all really, I’ll be in my room.” You announced, turning to the door.

“Why are you helping us?” Klaus’s voice asked quietly as to not wake the whole house with how he was fuming, but you could tell he was angry with how sharp his words were. He had every right to be angry, you were their age and you haven’t done anything.

You stayed turned, tilting your head as you nodded, blinking back some tears they couldn’t see. “You guys don’t know how to live here.” You whispered out, inhaling deeply, breath staggering. “I do, I have.” You continued on, hugging yourself, “Just do what he says and be quiet.” You finished your sentence and you were met with silence. You put your hand on the handle but you were stopped with a hand on your shoulder.

It was gentle, turning you around to face them. Violet looked at you sadly, “This place is horrible, he treats everyone terribly.” She told you, brows furrowed, lips parted.

You licked your lips with a weak smile, “He’s my father, you don’t have to tell me how he acts.” You spoke with a huff of a laugh, sucking at your teeth slightly. Violet shook her head, “Then, why do you stay?” She asked you, taking her hand off your shoulder to clasp her own in front of her.

Silence once again other than the crickets outside. You smiled at them, “I have nowhere else to go.” You spoke simply with a shrug, sniffling. Klaus’s harsh expression softened and Violet frowned at you, but you didn’t give them any time to speak, “Goodnight.” You told them, rushing out of the room quietly back down the stairs.

A few days later, you didn’t speak to the Baudelaires. Any time they tried you would stare at them wide eyed and blank, tilting your head as if you were programmed. When they realized they weren’t getting through to you, they gave up and went on with their days.

You were now sitting in the dining room with the Baudelaires, well the two oldest ones, and you were extremely confused. You knew the three had run around between the neighbors house and shopping but you paid no attention to it, nor did you involve yourself in their affairs. So why were you there?

Count Olaf looked at the three of you, “Oh and where is Sunny?” He asked, grinning widely but the other two at the table snarled. “What did you do with our sister?!” Klaus yelled, hitting his fist on the table. Violet glared at the man at the head of the table, “Give her back now!”

You stared at them, looking between the two and your father with parted lips. When you saw the wicked look in your fathers eyes, your mouth widened a bit and your eyes teared up. “No…” You whispered, rushing out the room to go outside.

The Baudelaires noticed you left the room in a rush but they didn’t know why. Olaf gestured his arm to where you went, “Follow the leader.” He spoke slowly and the Baudelaires rushed out to the backyard where you were standing, staring upwards.

You knew it was weird that there was a cage hanging from the forbidden tower, you should’ve immediately connected the dots but you just couldn’t believe he would do something like…this.

The Baudelaires demanded Count Olaf to take her down but he refused, threatening to kill her if Violet didn't play the role of the bride and sign the wedding construct during the play. Klaus couldn’t step in to help, because then Sunny would be killed if he tried.

They complied and you stood, quiet.

They still tried to get their sister that night but were locked in a room by the hook handed man who had walkie talkies to keep Count Olaf in the loop, so they wouldn’t try anything.

You knew everything your father plotted, he wasn’t exactly quiet about it. This time around, he walked into your room with a gentle smile, “Angel.” He spoke, the nickname he hadn’t called you since your mother was alive and that was when you were around two.

He sat next to you on your bed, rubbing your back slowly as you stared out to the wall, “Tomorrow is the play.” He hummed, and you nodded, sniffling a bit. “Do you need me to do something for it?” You asked him almost hesitantly, but you knew never to hesitate in front of him.

Your father shook his head, repeating his ‘no’ excessively. “You just sit backstage, be quiet, and just let me do my work.” He mumbled, pulling you into a small hug. “We’ll be rich, we’ll be happy, just how I wanted us to be before your mother…” He trailed off, gently rubbing your neck. You didn’t hug back, you sat awkwardly as he continued to speak.

He told you how you had your mothers smile, how you reminded him of her. In those moments he was soft, it was those moments you held onto. You held onto them before at least, now you couldn’t even bear to look at him. You turned your head from him, tearing yourself from his side as he spoke and he rolled his eyes, walking away. He muttered a small “Exactly like your mother.” before he left you alone in your bedroom.

You knocked on the door and the hook handed man had no reason not to let you in. You stared at the two Baudelaires with a frown, they didn’t even look at you.

“You’re not plotting.” You spoke bluntly, sitting in front of them. Klaus looked up at you before looking back down, completely silent. Violet sighed, “We can’t do anything, Sunny will be hurt-”

“No, she’ll be killed!” Klaus cut in harshly, glaring at you as if you set the whole thing up.

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. You inhaled through the nose, patting your chest a bit to rid the pain in your chest. You looked at Violet slightly, glancing at the hook handed man who wasn’t paying attention. You leaned in, “What’s your dominant hand?”

The next day was the ‘play’, many people were there. Justice Strauss, the neighbor across the street, was going to play the judge, which made the marriage legally binding. The play was going on just as planned and as they got to the marriage Violet sucked in a breath, forced to sign the paper of the marriage.

Count Olaf grinned with all his teeth barred, turning to the audience and explaining how the marriage was legally binding and real. Mr. Poe and Justice Strauss were shocked, they objected, but…they couldn’t do anything the damage was done. The Baudelaires now had to transfer their parents' fortune to Count Olaf, the evil man who did everything to get his hands on their money.

Count Olaf spoke into the walkie talkie, telling the hook handed man to bring the baby, Sunny, to the stage.

That was until you walked onto the stage, “Actually…” you began, tilting your head as you stood next to Violet. “Violet?” You looked over to her smugly, and she turned to you, blinking her eyes innocently. “Yes?” She asked, tilting her head at you.

“What hand is your dominant hand?”

“Oh, well that would be my right.” She answered with a sweet smile and you blinked, hand on your chest as you gasped. The conversation is quite confusing to everyone around you, but when you looked at your father he just looked livid. His brows were in a v shape, he didn’t know what you were doing but his gaze told you to ‘stop’...you didn’t.

“But…didn’t you just sign with your left hand?” You asked, terribly acting out your point.

“I did indeed.”

You nodded and smiled, “That makes the marriage not legally binding, since she has to sign in her own hand, and that wasn’t her dominant.” You explained to the crowd who murmured around a bit.

Justice Staruss agreed with you, it was a small loophole but a loophole nonetheless. The marriage wasn’t legally binding, it wasn’t real.

Count Olaf looked around with clear stress in his features, sweat dripping down his face as he nervously laughed. He went to tell his men to drop the baby, but she appeared on stage, carried by the hooked man, and Count Olaf was to be arrested.

He looked at you with dark but saddened eyes, “You are a terrible actor.” He told you, jaw tightened as his eyes narrowed.

You sniffled, eyes filling with tears as you stared up at him, shaking your head, “I am my fathers child.” You answered, voice hoarse.

His eyes widened as his scowl softened, “You are not my child after this.” He told you, walking backwards as people began to get out of their seats to go after him. Count Olaf was shaking his head at you, “Your mother would be so disappointed in you.”

Those were the last words he said to you before the lights all shut off and when they were back on, he was gone. Your fath….Count Olaf had left you, you were now an orphan.

You now could finally breathe without struggling.

#asoue #asoue x reader #count olaf #count olaf x reader #count olaf x reader platonic #platonic #platonic fic #familial #family #father!count olaf #child!reader #a series of unfortunate events x reader #a series of unfortunate events

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mariacallous · 21 hours

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As all journalists know fear sells better than sex. Readers want be terrified. And here in the UK, there appears to be every reason to frighten them.

A country that was overdependent on financial services has been in decline ever since the banking crash of 2008. Then, from 2010 on, the astonishing Conservative policy failures of austerity, Trussonomics and, above all, Brexit further weakened an enfeebled state.

I was a child in a happy family during the crisis of the 1970s. Like all happy children I just got on with my life. But even I picked up a little of the despair and hopelessness of the time. That feeling that there is no way out is with us again.

In 1979, Margaret Thatcher came to power, and with great brutality, set the UK on a new path as she inflicted landslide defeats on Labour.

Obviously, our current Conservative government is heading for a defeat, maybe a landslide defeat.

But there is little sense that Labour will transform the country. The far-left takeover from 2015-2019 traumatised it. As recently as 2021, everyone expected Boris Johnson to rule the UK for most of the 2020s.

Johnson’s contempt for the rules he insisted everyone else follow and the great Truss disaster are handing Labour victory. But the centre-left appears to be the beneficiary of scandal and right-wing madness, not an ideological sea change that might inspire it and sustain it in power

Desperate to drop its crank image, battered by the conservative media establishment, fashionable opinion holds that a wee, cowering and timorous Labour party will come into power without radical policies that equal the country’s needs.

Just this once, fashionable opinion may even be right

And yet, and I know I will regret this outbreak of commercially suicidal optimism, there are reasons to believe that the UK’s position is not quite as grim as it appears.

1) The economy may revive

Although no one has been as wrong recently as the economists and central bankers who predicted that inflation would be a transitory phenomenon, it is finally coming down. Falls in energy prices may even bring it to the 2 per cent target this month. Interest rates will eventually follow suit.

Lower interest rates mean lower government borrowing costs. They will reduce the extraordinary debt bill Labour in power will have to meet.

Chris Giles of the Financial Times calculated this week that lower government borrowing costs improve the public finances five years ahead by almost £15bn (about 0.5 per cent of national income) for every percentage point reduction.

Meanwhile the Conservatives have raised taxes so high (by UK standards) a Labour government may not need to risk unpopularity by raising them further. Under Conservative plans the tax burden has risen from 33.1 per cent of gross domestic product in 2019-20 to 36.5 per cent in 2024-25 with further rises planned, taking it to 37.1 per cent by 2028-29.

If the 1997-2010 Labour government is any guide, Labour will be reluctant in the extreme to play into its enemies’ hands by raising taxes

It may not need to if economic growth leads to the revenue growth that would take the UK out of the rolling crisis that has afflicted it since 2016.

I wouldn’t be doing my job if I did not add that there are some pretty large caveats to make.

Economists missed the post-covid inflation surge because they forgot about politics. Russia’s unprovoked invasion of Ukraine upended the European economy. An extension of the war in Ukraine or the Middle East, or, more terrifyingly, a US-China confrontation, or the return of Donald Trump could all derail a new government.

In any case the IMF predicts growth of 1.5 percent in 2025, which is nowhere near the 3 percent we need to fund the state.

And yet, with a bit of luck there is a fair chance that our fortunes may revive, albeit modestly.

2) Labour is not as scared as it looks

Near where I live in London is the Union Chapel, a vast neo-Gothic hall.

Will Hutton was there recently to launch his new book This Time No Mistakes: How to Remake Britian. I have interviewed Will for the podcast, which should be out in a couple of days. For now, I’ll just say his book is a classic combination of liberal and left thought, and makes the case for radical reform. Keir Starmer arrived on stage to the cheers of the crowd and endorsed Hutton’s findings.

The fashionable view is that Labour has abandoned difficult policies so as not to alienate frightened voters, and I can see why people think that way.

The grand plan for green job creation has been hacked back after fears the markets would not wear it. The majority of people in this country, and the overwhelming majority of people who vote for opposition parties, now recognise that Brexit was a disastrous error. Year in year out it drags the country down. And yet Starmer, who once argued for a second referendum, is terrified of mentioning the subject in case he upsets a minority in marginal seats.

There was a depressing little vignette a few days ago when the European Commission laid out proposals for open movement to millions of 18- to 30-year-olds from the EU and UK, allowing them to work, study and live in respective states for up to four years. Labour joined the Tories in rejecting the offer.

It would rather squash the aspirations of young people than lay itself open to the charge that it was taking us back towards EU membership.

Yet Rachel Reeves, Keir Starmer and David Lammy talk about the need for cooperation. “Success will rest on forming new bilateral and multilateral partnerships, and forging a closer relationship with our neighbours in the European Union,” Reeves said as she explained her economic programme.

Meanwhile the UK has been ruled by Conservatives for so long our battered minds can underestimate how much the country will change when they are thrown out.

The new parliament will be filled with politicians who support renters, more home building and the EU. They will at least be interested in a land value tax and a universal basic income. Radical that ideas have been forbidden for years will soon seem normal.

3) The impetus for change

The last Labour government of 1997 to 2010 did not change economic fundamentals for what seemed at the time to be a very good reason.

When it came to power neo-liberalism worked. Indeed, is easy to forget now how successful the ideology appeared before the crash of 2008. Politicians like Gordon Brown and Tony Blair accepted much of what Margaret Thatcher had done because they thought they had no choice. Everyone knew, or thought they knew, that this was how you ran an economy.

None of that certainty pertains today. The Brexit nationalism that succeeded neo-liberalism has failed. Starmer and Reeves will not be like Blair and Brown: they will have no good reason to cling to discredited ideas.

That does not mean they won’t cling to them for fear of the Tory press or swing voters or because of their own intellectual failings. There is no guarantee that countries will turn themselves round. The UK could go the way of Argentina or Italy.

But the Labour leadership is made of serious politicians, and I keep asking myself why would serious politicians want to preside over decline? I can’t see why they would.

As I said, maybe I will regret writing this piece. But for the moment I think we can enjoy a rare moment of optimism.

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honorhearted · 2 years

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@ycllowhaired

As a reverend’s son, Ben had always been taught that retaining ill will towards another person was wrong. One mustn’t covet, nor begrudge another man’s actions, and yet in this instance, Ben liked to believe God would forgive him -- nay, agree that his yearning for revenge was completely justified.

In a cruel twist of fate, his brother, Samuel had been arrested on a trip to London. He’d merely been speaking his mind in a tavern -- oh, Heaven forbid -- and the judge presiding over this trial had condemned him to prison...a prison where Samuel withered away, grew sick, and ultimately died a dog’s death. That sort of oversight could never be forgiven; not when this Turpin monster lived more than heartily in a mansion, while meanwhile everyone else starved and pleaded for crumbs.

Ben wished to reverse his fortune. So now, leaning against the wrought-iron fence across from Turpin’s grand home, he pretended to read the book in his hand, occasionally glancing over at the small boy he’d hired to pose as a distraction. At long last, he could hear a commotion. The little boy was waving his hands, speaking loudly about an investment -- one that the judge had made, of course -- going “up in flames,” and that he’d been sent by “some nice banker” to come fetch him. Turpin, in all his greed, couldn’t resist this ploy, and immediately fetched his hat and coat before accompanying the child out into the street.

Miserable old miser.

Watching until the two had disappeared, Ben quickly rushed across the street and jogged up to the front door. In Turpin’s haste, the damned fool had forgotten to lock up, and with a breathy laugh of disbelief, Ben showed himself inside and quickly shut the door behind him. He didn’t know what he was looking for, exactly -- something, anything that could prove what a monster this man was -- so he took his time as he searched through the large house.

Before long, Ben became incredibly frustrated. None of Turpin’s desks nor potential hiding spots revealed anything of import -- not even a ruinous letter. Sourly, he headed for the final room in the upstairs hall (his last chance) and immediately froze once he realized it was locked. Oh... Well, surely this was a room of interest! No man with nothing to hide would lock a door, after all.

Giddy, Ben set to work on picking the lock. After a handful of unsuccessful attempts, the lock finally sprung open, and he pushed his way into the room, pleased with himself until he realized that...well...he wasn’t alone. A pretty young blonde was seated in the far corner, embroidering quietly. Shit. Shit, shit, shit!

Pale and wide-eyed, he opened and closed his mouth a few times before spluttering, “Oh, uh...I-I’m so sorry, I...I thought...” Quickly. Come up with something, damn you! “Er, I am a carpenter. I was called in to fix a wobbly table leg. The judge isn’t presently here, so...I suppose I miscalculated the room. Apologies.” Though just as Ben turned to leave, it suddenly dawned on him that this woman had been locked inside this room -- that she was a prisoner of sorts -- so slowly, he halted his trek and turned again to regard her. “Are you all right, Miss?” This time, he didn’t bother disguising his American accent. Somehow, he had a feeling they might be on the same side...

#ycllowhaired #different cages #//forgive the length i'm PUMPED lol #though ofc you don't have to match me #i was just trying to give some backstory and set the scene #so write as little or as much as you want! <3 #let me know if i need to change anything!#long post tw

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eddieredmayneargentinablog · 6 months

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"Day of The Jackal FIRST LOOK: Eddie Redmayne is every inch the suave assassin while filming Sky's 'modern reimagining' of the thriller in Croatia", Daily Mail, November 6, 2023.

Eddie Redmayne was seen for the first time on the set of Sky's new TV adaption of The Day of The Jackal in Croatia on Monday.

The British actor, 41, cut a suave figure as he shot scenes as assassin known as the Jackal, originally played by Edward Fox in the classic 1973 film.

Eddie was dressed all in black and teamed a sweater with smart trousers for the shoot which took place in a busy market.

The Oscar winner could be seen chatting to the crew before jumping behind the wheel of a swanky sports car for a complex action scene.

Originally a novel by Frederick Forsyth the story follows the story of the trained killer who is hired to is hired to assassinate French president Charles de Gaulle.

According to the Hollywood Reporter the producers, of which Eddie is one, have described the adaption as a 'bold, modern reimagining of the beloved and respected novel and film.'

And while the series, written by Top Boy creator Ronan Bennett, will pay homage to the original it will be set in the world modern world of geo-politics.

Producer Gareth Neame said: “We are excited to bring to life Ronan Bennett’s re-imagining of Forsyth’s revered thriller in the complex world in which we live today and are incredibly fortunate to have an actor of Eddie’s calibre as our Jackal'.

It comes after Eddie credited his parents for his successful career in a rare candid interview.

The actor said it was his father, Richard, a banker, and mother Patricia, who ran a relocation company, and their willingness to allow him to pursue his interest in acting at an early age that allowed him to flourish in his career.

'I loved music and singing and acting at school,' the Fantastic Beast franchise star told Today's Willie Geist in an interview. 'To my parents' credit, which now as a parent myself I really do hold high, anything I had an interest in or my brothers had an interest in, they supported.'

The future star attended the Jackie Palmer Studios Stage School in London where his classmates including James Corden, Jamie Dornan and Aaron Taylor-Johnson.

The father of two shares Iris, seven and Luke, five, with his wife of nine years, Hannah Bagshawe.

Eddie, who won the Academy Award for his portrayal of the late physicist Stephen Hawking in The Theory of Everything.

In addition to the Oscar, Eddie won a Tony in 2010 for his work in Red and will soon return in a production of Cabaret after starring as Emcee in the musical in London's West End.

Still most fans know him for his role as Newt Scamander in the Fantastic Beasts films. He's starred in three of the magical adventures, but said he isn't sure when or if a fourth is in the works.

Speaking to Indiewire the actor explained, 'It’s more a question for J. K. Rowling and David Yates and Warners, but I don’t know, I’m afraid. I can’t add to that, adding, 'I love playing Newt, he’s a sweet man".

....

#eddie redmayne #eddieredmayne #redmayne #the day of the jackal #november 2023 #dailymail #on set photos #new series #the theory of everything #fantastic beasts #cabaret

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thechairanon · 2 months

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I've tried posting this THREE TIMES THUS FAR and it keeps reloading and deleting everything on my gay ass. Anyway-

Anon lore? On my dash? It's more likely than you think.

Heavy warnings for this one, I think I got all the tags correct? Lmk just in case I need to edit/add tags to help filter it better.

ENTIRE FAMILY FOUND DEAD, SUSPECT ON THE LOOSE

This weekend, police were alerted to a murder taking place by a young woman staying at her boyfriend’s sister’s house for a family reunion. When police arrived at the home, Martha Banker directed them to the scene of the crime.

Bodies belonging to Mary Carpenter, John Carpenter, Susan Carpenter and Hazel Carpenter were found all around the house, massacred. One officer even found the body of Jacob Carpenter in the woods, partially hidden in the creek.

“We found stab wounds in most of them,” Officer Whittaker said. “We had to call in one of those guys who finds the causes of deaths for people, and not even he knew what happened to some of ‘em. One of them- a man, believe it or not, had been strangled to death. We found a poor chap in the woods with an ax in his neck, his body dumped in the creek nearby. His eyes had been closed, so at least the murderer had some respect for the dead.”

After the police searched the property, they brought Martha Banker, George Carpenter and Jerry Carpenter in for questioning. George and Jerry Carpenter, the youngest of the Carpenter family, were oblivious to the horrible thing that had transpired in their cousin’s home that day. Martha Banker was not as fortunate.

“I saw it happen,” Martha told the police. “Through the window. She had just gone mad, turning on her own family like that. She’d been acting odd all week, always tired, always forgetting what she’d just done. Sometimes she’d ramble on and on about movies or actors that don’t exist, but Jacob and I always gave her the benefit of the doubt.”

[Redacted] Carpenter, the youngest adult of the family, was a self-made woman who crafted chairs for a living. She had exceptional grades in school, never talked back to her teachers, never spoke poorly of her fellow students, and never got into trouble. So why now? Why would [Redacted], the perfect model student, child, citizen, lash out now?

“She’d always been angry,” one of [Redacted]’s friends said in an interview. “At her dad for leaving her mom, at her uncle and brother poking fun at her fear of puppets, at her grandma for trying to push her into finding a boyfriend… [Redacted] was angry at a lot of people all the time. I guess it finally, y’know… burst.”

Where is [Redacted] Carpenter now? How will this state-wide manhunt affect you and your family? (Cont. on page 4)

Part 1 / Part 2

#tw death #tw murder #implied murder #chair's drabbles #Chair wandered off into the woods with the tapes after this #The police gave up looking for her after a week or two #According to the records #(We know what actually happened to them though)

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bethanydelleman · 1 year

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This is a hard question and I want to apologize in advance:

John Dashwood's first plan of honouring his father's wishes and helping his sisters is giving each of them £1,000 in addition to the £1,000 they recieved when their uncle died. The estate gives him £4,000 a year on top of what he already made. So, was his first plan actually generous or did he start out stingy even before he ended at "call me if you need anything xoxo"?

Firstly, lol on that last line.

Now to your question. There are three different ways to look at if John's original plan was generous or not. 1. Was it a lot of John's money? 2. Would it have made a difference to the girls? and 3. Would it be considered generous by others? Because it would be very generous for Fanny Price to give you a shilling but not generous for Mrs. Norris to give you a pound, if you know what I mean.

For #1, John's income is far higher than the £4000/year from the Norland estate. We know his mother had an "ample" fortune that is now in his possession (Ch 1). We also find out that Fanny had a dowry of £10,000 (Ch 61). If we suppose that John's fortune from his mother is at least equal to Fanny's dowry, he has an income of at least £5000/year.

He also has a good deal of ready money. He says this about buying a farm adjacent to his estate:

"...but, with regard to the purchase-money, I might have been very unfortunate indeed; for the stocks were at that time so low, that if I had not happened to have the necessary sum in my banker’s hands, I must have sold out to very great loss.”

John Dashwood is loaded.

So, is giving his sisters £1000 each generous in comparison to his income? I would say no. He probably could have easily afforded to give them more.

But now for #2, it totally would have made a huge difference to the girls!

Even on a very basic level, £1000 each for the girls doubles their dowry. Now their portion is small either way, but I am sure having an income of £100/year is a lot better than £50.

It also helps them just with their daily expenses. The biggest thing that the Dashwood women could have done with an extra £150 per year is maintain their carriage. Not their horses, that would probably be too expensive, but a carriage itself cost between £15-40/year to maintain. Mrs. Dashwood wanted to keep it but it wasn't in their budget:

The horses which were left her by her husband had been sold soon after his death, and an opportunity now offering of disposing of her carriage, she agreed to sell that likewise at the earnest advice of her eldest daughter. For the comfort of her children, had she consulted only her own wishes, she would have kept it; but the discretion of Elinor prevailed.

Owning a carriage, even if you need to rent horses, would allow the Dashwoods to visit further and with greater ease. It would allow them to build a larger social network not wholly dependant on the Middletons. I imagine it would also just be nice to have easier transportation.

So in the way that it would have meaningfully raised their standard of living and improved their marriage prospects, yes, it would have been generous.

Lastly #3, I think it's fair to consider what other people would have thought of John's actions at the time. When John considers the gift of £1000 each, he thinks to himself, "it would be liberal and handsome!" which means in his mind at least, it would be a generous gift. And he does seem to be a fair judge of how others would view him. For example, he feels a social obligation to invite his sisters to stay with him in town mostly for appearances.

The fact that the eldest son gets everything would be pretty normal in this era and while men were expected to provide for their family, it doesn't seem like they suffered much if they didn't. Just look at Jane Austen herself and her rich brother! This leads me to suspect that because John was fulfilling a moral but not a legal obligation, his gift would be considered generous.

To sum up, was his original gift generous? No and yes and yes. Hope I cleared everything up! (Maybe bring in a moral philosopher?)

#john dashwood #question response #sense and sensibility #generosity #depends how you define generosity #but I do overall think it was a generous gift #though not the most he could have done #the end result of course was horrible

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youremyheaven · 10 months

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gen Z hollywood actor bios be like:

she was born in malibu to an 80s supermodel and an investment banker and grew up dividing time between the family farmhouse in santa barbara & the beach house in malibu. her brother is a surfer & phone case designer. she was discovered by tatiana russo, the esteemed modelling scout, who is also her godmother, when she was 12 at her family's vineyard whilst celebrating kate moss' birthday and despite her early start in modelling, her true passion lay in acting as influenced by childhoods spent with "uncle" George Clooney. childhood pal and fellow model, juliette rockefeller describes her as "the biggest nerd and the sweetest person alive". they were both bridesmaids at Olivia Getty's 70s themed wedding to Dipping Hearts frontman Gus Saint Jerome. she's currently dating Jeff Scott Vanderbilt, model, crypto investor and heir to the Vanderbilt fortune. if she wasn't an actress/model, she would've liked to have become a 'wildlife photographer' and is deeply passionate about her ig book club where she recently read Normal People with her 26.8 million followers and went on live discussing it with fellow creative & bestie, Fai Khadra.

#individuality is dead

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freakingoutthesquares · 1 year

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This photo was nicked off Reddit - I have no information. Jarvis is unmistakably Jarvis there, Russell reclining with hat and pink trousers. Early 80s for sure. Russell still sporting his little moustache.

Jarvis: Russell Senior… he was the person who wrote that first live review of Pulp at The Leadmill Festival in his fanzine, The Bath Banker, the one that ended with the lines, ‘VAST CHEERING FOR ENCORE.’ Russell came down to the fish market, where I had my Saturday job, a couple of weeks after the concert and sold me a copy of the fanzine. I was impressed because it came with a free fortune telling fish. I think I still have it somewhere…

Russell also invited me to a party the following week at his dad's house in Gleadless - which gave me the chance to find out more about him. He was a couple of years older than me and was studying politics [sic] at Bath University , hence the name of his fanzine. He came back to Sheffield one or two weekends a month to see his girlfriend, Sandra. He was into cooking - at one point in the party he made everyone taste a ‘100 year old egg’ that he'd prepared himself. It was foul. He had a friend called ‘Quasi’ (due to his supposed resemblance to the hunchback of Notre Dame, as played by Charles Laughton.) He was an expert on wild mushrooms and often went out foraging in the woods. And he was into unusual bands I'd never heard of. Around 2:00am he put on ‘DOA, The Third and Final Report of Throbbing Gristle.’ I remember hearing the song ‘Hamburger Lady’ and reading the album sleeve notes that explained what the song was about and getting completely freaked out. I left soon after that, and I recall looking at all the houses I passed on the walk home and wondering what strange mysteries they might contain.

Russell seemed grown up, but in an encouraging way. He was sophisticated and intriguing and surprising. Meeting him was certainly a stroke of good fortune for me. [Jarvis Cocker, Good Pop, Bad Pop, 2022]

---------

#russell senior #jarvis cocker #pulp #80s #misc #happy birthday russell

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a-christmas-carol-from-hr · 11 months

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The Marrying Kind

tw: period typical sexism

a/n: “writing the actual story” i sleep

“writing weird aus” real shit???

the shitty straights...but they’re victorian. im obsessed with my version of these guys so uh. content.

It was rare that Jorkins would invite his staff into his office for anything but work. Jacob Marley could only recall one other time in the period he had worked for him, and it was to make inquiries about a dockworker’s pretty sister. Marley, who had no pretty sister to his name, therefore could conceive of no reason as to why he was asked to come into Jorkins’ office one late November evening.

Jorkins sat behind his desk, as plump as a partridge and as smug as a lord. He gestured to the seat in front of him. A glass of port was already waiting.

“Mr. Marley! Please, sit.”

Marley did so, already calculating what this could possibly mean. If he was to be let go from the firm, surely Jorkins would not bother with the port. But why be so welcoming to a mere clerk? Was he being bribed? Had he seen something he shouldn’t? Jorkins’s embezzling was no worse than usual. What ever could be the issue?

“Thank you, sir.” Marley took the glass and sipped at it politely. Too rich for his blood. When he drank, it was cheaply. Easier to get to oblivion that way.

Jorkins made small talk on the business for a number of minutes, chatting on topics of the business and mutual contacts. Marley replied in the most proper of ways, always deferential, always polite.

It wasn’t until Jorkins had gotten warmed up from the port that he finally cut to the heart of the matter.

“Jacob, my boy, have you ever thought of marrying?”

Of all the things he expected his employer to say, he certainly hadn’t expected that.

“What?” Marley said.

Jorkins leaned back in his chair. “I have the fragment of an idea for you, my boy. A lucrative idea. There’s a girl who needs marrying, and a fortune to be gained. I simply need a free hand, and unfortunately my dear wife is disinclined to drop dead just for my sake.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You know Old Fezziwig, don’t you?”

Of course he did. Everyone did. He was the jolliest of bankers this side of the Thames. Everyone liked him, which was no small feat in the world of London finance. “Yes, sir.”

“The Old Man’s clever. I cannot say the same about his boy. Bellamy. You know him?” Yes, Marley knew of him as well. A handsome, strapping lad. He lived in his wealth like a contented lapdog, having never known the pain of hunger or want. He often stood at the exchange, laughing over a jest with his other rich friends. More than one of his lot had eyed Marley’s thin frame with a smirk.

“In passing.”

“He was engaged to be married. But he’s gone and broken it off with the girl.” Jorkins pulled out a ledger from under the desk. He flipped it to an open page. “Look here.”

It was a ledger from Fezziwig’s. Marley didn’t want to know how Jorkins had gotten this. He lowered his glasses from his forehead to take a look.

“If you’ll look, my boy, you’ll see Master Fezziwig has been employees as a bookkeeper for his father. No doubt to prime him for the business.”

Marley glanced over the page. And he couldn’t help but wince.

“Pardon me speaking so candidly sir. But this is awful.”

“Hah! It’s no insult to me! The boy can’t figure! He’s made as many errors here as he’s gotten things right! And this is the nicest of pages. But look here.” Jorkins flipped ahead. “There’s a new hand starting here.”

There was indeed. Bellamy was still signing to verify the work, but the actual mathematics were being done in a new hand. The handwriting was solid, with little flourishes or fuss. The mathematics were impeccable.

“A new clerk?” Marley asked.

“No, my boy,” Jorkins explained. “It was his fiancé. She was keeping the books for him.”

Marley’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Don’t look so shocked! A woman’s brain can be just as useful as a man’s. I don’t judge on sex of money can be made from it. And money can be made from her brain. She’s a regular Ada Lovelace. I met her in passing at Fezziwig’s and she’s by far the smartest person in that firm.”

“I am sure, sir.”

“The damn fool of a boy has broken off the engagement. Something happened between the pair. Whatever it was, it was enough to leave rumors. I suspect that she’s rather in a difficult situation regarding her prospects. Currently she is living off an entailment from a dead sister, but her situation is growing dire. I made an overture to her of my thoughts, and I suspect she’d be willing. Especially since it’d give her something like employment. Lord, if she isn’t ambitious! A regular Lady MacBeth.”

“And this woman, your Lady MacBeth, you want me to marry her?”

“I’ll level with you, my boy. She’s no beauty. She’s sharp and as hard as a flint, and she hasn’t a dowry to her name. But the girl is a genius, my boy. And I want that genius. I can’t employ a girl as a clerk, but I can make use of the wife of my clerk. Besides! She is your age. I wonder if you can’t make use of her in your own way!” He chortled. Marley smiled thinly.

“Of course I’d double your pay for support of your wife, of course. A man cannot keep such a creature on a clerk’s salary alone. So what do you think, hm? Shall I ring the wedding bells?”

Marley slid his glasses up his forehead. He thought for a moment.

“I want partnership in the firm.”

Jorkins laughed. “Clever boy! A partner for a partner. Very well.”

And then he was engaged. Jorkins returned the next day saying the girl had agreed, and that they’d be wed as soon as the month of waiting was up.

It didn’t change much. He went to work, he went home, he found some way to amuse himself, and he went back to work. The addition of a betrothed really didn’t alter much in his day to day life. Especially because he’d not even seen the woman he was to have for better or worse. Jorkins had described her as a shrew, but Jorkins’s taste in women tended to the buxom and brainless. Marley wasn’t sure he was a reliable narrator.

He didn’t see this Ellen Scrooge until a week before he was to marry her. He’d been engaged at his desk, trying to figure out a way to manage the gaping hole in the coffers his employer had left, when the door opened. A rustle of skirts passed by his desk.

“I want to see Mr. Jorkins.” A low voice said.

“Occupied.” Marley said, thinking of the dockworker’s sister who had just gone in. “You’d best return in an…” he thought about her again. “Hour.” He estimated.

“I will not.” The voice said firmly. “Kindly give him this. I won’t be kept.”

Marley sighed and looked up.

Standing before him was a stern looking woman of about 27. Her face was young, but her hair was already tarnished a rich silver. The pallor of her hair was only set off by the dark of her dress. She was in mourning clothes, outdated mourning clothes at that. Her mouth twisted into a frown as she glared at him.

For a moment he could not breathe. And it had nothing to do with his lungs.

He took the document without speaking. She nodded sharply and then left. The scent of ink and chrysanthemum lingered behind her.

Marley blinked once. And then again. He looked down at the letter. There, in the same handwriting as had been in the ledger, was the address of one ‘E. Scrooge’.

His evening rambles took him not to Convent Garden for once. He found himself in the nicer end of the financial district, being glared at by rich toffs who had never worked a day in their life. Jorkins’s increase in pay had gone into effect the day he’d agreed to the match. Most of it had been spent on payment towards a new set of rooms, as his previous domain was hardly a place of respectability. But enough remained of the newly minted junior partner’s pay for amusement. He’d spent much of it on wine and women, but tonight he simply didn’t feel interested.

He found himself looking into a jeweler’s store with an idle eye. Perhaps he’d merely stopped to catch his breath. The jeweler looked at him questioningly, a smile on his face.

“Can I help you sir?”

It was a waste of money. He knew that. But he supposed he really shouldn’t show up to his own wedding without a ring.

“How much for that one?”

He had it sent to the address that narrow hand had scrawled on the envelope. Let her do as she will with it, he soothed himself. It really is the most practical of solutions.

When the day he was to be made a married man dawned, Marley noted with some surprise that it was Christmas Eve. When he mentioned it to Jorkins, the financier replied only with a laugh. It had been cheaper that day, he explained. Nobody wanted it.

A normal day of work was only shortened by an hour so that Marley could go home to his new lodgings and refresh himself. His best suit of clothes would suffice enough for this affair, even if the browns and reds of his clothes hardly seemed the most cheerful. It was going on six when he departed for Jorkins’s house. The minister would meet them there. No need for the cost of a church wedding.

He was greeted with an enthusiastic (and somewhat drunk) Jorkins at the door. “I’m glad you did not elope to the colonies!” He said with a laugh. “Come. Come. Earn your promotion.”

The blushing bride to be was hardly blushing. She stood by the window, back to the door as she looked out on the streets. It appeared that she too was reusing an existing dress, a practicality Marley appreciated. Her dress was a dark purple, barely a shade away from being black. Was that a bad omen? Marley had no idea.

She turned her silver head when Jorkins called her name. “Well, let’s not beat around the bush! There will be plenty of time for that later!” He said with a smile.

The bride kept her composure even as a flush settled in her cheeks. She didn’t like Jorkins, Marley realized with an amused smirk that he quickly hid. She was clever.

The minister was altogether too sincere for such an occasion. He waxed philosophical about the nature of the holiday and the loving vows they were about to take, evidently unaware of the nature of the deal both bride and groom were making. Their silence shook his nerves after ten minutes of sermon, and he quickly moved onto the vows.

“I will.” Said Marley.

“I will.” Said Ellen.

And that was that.

Jorkins put on a bit of a supper for the occasion. His wife, a winsome woman entirely undeserving of such a philanderer of a husband, attempted to engage the new bride in conversation. But talking to Ellen of wifely affairs was like trying to talk to stone. She gave one word replies, looking down at her hands as she spoke. Only when Jorkins engaged her in talks of business did she show some semblance of life. She was indeed as clever as he’d been told.

The end of the dinner came, and the two departed in a cab to Marley’s lodgings. What few possessions Ellen had had been sent over the night before. For all intents and purposes, they were one. At least in the eyes of the law. There was the matter of…consummation.

Jorkins had leered at him as he left, his smile becoming ever more wicked by the moment. “Do enjoy yourself, my boy. Make sure the quill gets plenty of ink.”

Ellen’s hands only grew more interlocked as they arrived. Mrs. Dilber, the new housekeeper, had prepared both bedrooms to taste. Ellen departed to her room without a word, closing the door heavily behind her.

Exactly what was supposed to happen next was no mystery to Marley. He’d done it just the night before, in the arms of Convent Garden’s finest harlot one could get for five pounds. A marriage required certain sacrifices, after all. It wasn’t legitimate until made so.

He took the ribbon from his hair as he undressed, all the while thinking of something Jorkins had said. Something happened between the pair. Whatever it was, it was enough to leave rumors. I suspect that she’s rather in a difficult situation regarding her prospects.

He thought of the clench of her hands. He thought of the way she had eyed him, like she was waiting for something.

…Legalities be damned. He’d not bother her if she didn’t bother him.

Jacob Marley spent his wedding night reading over the ledgers he’d have to fix on Boxing Day. Whatever it was his new wife was doing, he had no idea. But when he encountered her in the morning, there was something akin to relief in her face.

“You’ve made a mistake in that ledger.” She said, pointing to it with a slender finger. A ring adorned her hand. “I’ll show you.”

“By all means.” He said.

And so it began.

#a christmas carol #ebenezer scrooge #Jacob Marley #scrooge x marley #the christmas carol retelling thing

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