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squadrah · 1 year

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Can you explain the relationship between Risotto and Ghia and Prosciutto in the Babysitter fic? I feel like it's toxic, and Risotto is sorta smothering/helicoptering Ghiaccio, but at the same time they all have some oddly wholesome love with each other which makes their dynamics sorta confusing :3 thank u btw

Of course!

First, here's the fic in question!

I'll explain as best as I can, but your feelings are all correct, and they feel so confusing because their situation is very complicated.

When we first came up with this AU and made up the different families, their constellations and dynamics came about very naturally, but I feel that the underlying principle all along was "the daycare becomes a catalyst for many lives to change for the better" regardless of what the character's starting point was, coupled with the general idea that all these different adults handled the phenomenon of kids with Stands as best they could, but "best" doesn't necessarily mean "well".

For the Nero family in particular, this means several things. Our starting point was that similarly to canon, Risotto has problems expressing his emotions, so he often comes across as distant and emotionally unavailable, which is already an issue when it comes to fatherhood, but when you combine that with the type of partner we had given him - someone without an ounce of maternal instinct who constantly needs change of scene and society on top of that -, it leaves Risotto quite alone and to his own faulty devices. This combination of one parent being too absent and the other being too distant naturally produced a dysfunctional relationship with Prosciutto, who retains from canon his good heart and his sense of right, so he can feel that things are done poorly, but he is also too resentful of how he had been abandoned and handled to address it in any other way than being spiteful and distancing himself. Risotto does love him and he is doing his best, but he has done a LOT of damage and has not yet found the means of addressing it in the face of a child who now actively resists him. He knows where he erred, but he does not know how to make amends to Prosciutto personally, so when he and Désireé had a second child on a whim, Risotto was aware that his own past conduct was wrong, and therefore he decided to do the complete opposite to Ghiaccio, and just stuck to his little ice baby like glue. This in turn infuriated Prosciutto, who was never subject to as much parental affection and attention as Ghiaccio is, and can also see that Risotto has gone from being barely a father to downright smothering the little gremlin, and Prosciutto has been dealing with the consequences of this treatment on top of his own million issues that, like his Stand, he can just barely contain. Prosciutto has a lot of natural affection, and again his sense of doing right leads him to care too much, so he does love Ghiaccio deep down, and cares enough for his father at least to keep trying to correct him in his own angry way. His own nature has basically forced him into the role of a pseudo-parent to his tiny brother, and he does live up to that role in spite of how much he hurts and how much that hurt comes across as him being a complete asshole to everybody. Meanwhile, Ghiaccio loves both the way all little children embrace the people around them wholeheartedly, but he can't help having tantrums when his fratellone is mean to him or when his papa is not letting him frolick...

(Dare I even say that Désireé Nero also loves all of them dearly, but is just completely oblivious to the pain she has been causing? She calls her husband every day to chatter at him and has been taking Prosciutto on seasonal vacations ever since he was deemed "safe" to be around, and sends her family gifts in the mail often... but nobody has been able to tell her that they would more appreciate it if she was actually home with them for most of every year. Tragic.)

So that's the dynamic! They are all in different degrees of pain, but as with every other character, when I get that far, they should start experiencing the healing powers of the daycare and everything it entails. Going to daycare has already done something for Ghiaccio, who used to not be allowed near people because his panic attacks were dangerous, and now goes willingly to be around little kids his age and a fairly sensible caretaker (Abbacchio has his own backstory that will explain how he is doing as well as he does), so despite Risotto's own largely unspoken anxieties about change and Prosciutto's morose resistance, an avalanche is coming their way whether they are ready or not. In the end they will also heal a great deal, I really do just need to get there.

Thank you for the question and I hope the fic has been treating you well! :D <3

#squadrah original #squadrah fics #FINALLY i tagged something with this #will add it to the tags page and backtrack to tag other fic posts with this eventually

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shadeedee · 5 months

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Producers fic- SUMMERTIME *Adult content*

It was a beautiful day and Roger Debris was relaxing outside while his production team splashed in the pool. “Now let’s not splash too much, boys!” Roger said, giggling. “Cannonball!” a voice called, and suddenly there was a huge wipeout which soaked the entire yard and knocked Roger off his chair. The production team were laying on the grass, in horror. A flamboyant man, also gay, laughed out loud as he swam around in the pool. He was a crossdresser who wore ladies clothing and wigs, like Roger. He was dressed in a pink frilly bathing outfit with a curly blonde wig. He had a chunky build, too. He was Roger’s annoying neighbour Luke O’Donnell who often called himself Lucy. Roger had taken an immediate disliking to him as soon as he moved in. “Ooh Rogey, excuse me for spoiling your little swim sesh. But i just couldn’t resist showing off my pretty new thong. Lookey here!” he gushed, and showed his big butt crack with the pink thong going up between them. “Oh my eyes!” Scott cried. Everybody covered their eyes and Carmen coughed, uncomfortably. Luke chuckled with glee. “When i’m dressed pretty, call me Lucy. I’m Lucy today,” he said, sweetly. “Oh and what are you tomorrow? A jackass?” asked Roger, furiously. Carmen burst out laughing. “Nice one, Debris. Very nice. But i’ve heard it all before. You come off as a big famous director but deep down we all know you’re a big famous loser!” he said, laughing. Roger glared at him, and he felt a volcano inside of him. “Carmen darling, hold my lemonade for a minute, will you,” he said, and marched over to Luke. They were now both face to face. “Oh Roger darling please don’t. Just let it go,” Carmen said, trembling. Roger rolled up his sleeves and clenched his fists. “Alright you son of a bitch. Take back what you just said then get off my property before i give you a kick in the ass!” he shouted. Luke angrily clenched his fists, too. “I’ll take that wig off your ugly head and ram it up your ass then i’ll send you flying through that fence!” he shouted back. Roger’s eyes widened. “I’ll, i’ll uh, i’ll throw you through the window!” he shouted, trembling a bit. Carmen got in the middle of them. “Alright stop! Please stop! That’s enough,” he said. Luke looked at Carmen, smiling. “Mmmm now there’s something sweeter than bubblegum,” he said, and went to kiss him. Roger was horrified. “Keep your hands off my Carmen! Don’t touch him!” he cried. Luke chuckled. “I’ll tell you what Debris, i won’t kick your ass if you give me him. Give me Carmen Ghia. I have a huge crush on him and that I can’t deny. Give him to me,” he said. Carmen gasped. “Never! You can’t have him! He’s mine!” Roger cried. Luke began caressing Carmen. “Mmmm. Yum yum. Come to papa,” he gushed, and chuckled with pleasure. “That’s it! Off my property! Now! And keep your hands off my partner!” Roger shouted. Luke snatched the lemonade out of Roger’s hand and drank it. “Ahhhh. Refreshing,” he said, and tossed the cup into Roger’s garden before strutting away. Roger was furious. “I’ll get revenge on that moron one way or another!” he shouted. Carmen watched nervously as Luke blew him a kiss as he hid behind the wall. Then he applied lip gloss and blew him another kiss. Carmen’s eyes widened.

Later, Roger and Carmen were getting ready to go out on a date. “Oh Carmen darling you look so divine,” Roger said, as he put on his outfit. Carmen smiled as he applied his eyeliner. What they didn’t know was that Luke O’Donnell was watching their every move. He smirked as he watched Carmen change into another shirt by taking the first one off. “Ooooh. Oh my,” he gushed, and continued to spy on them. Roger stopped what he was doing. “What’s the matter?” Carmen asked. “I feel like we’re being watched,” he said, and began looking out the window. They both looked but didn’t see anything. “Nothing to worry about, darling. Let’s get going,” Carmen said. Luke quickly hid inside the car of Roger’s driver. He began to feel very horny and took out a toy. For the rest of the trip moaning and giggles were heard from the boot of the car but nobody heard it due to Roger and Carmen singing keep it gay in the back seat. When they arrived at the restaurant, Roger skipped up to the door happily. Carmen followed him. While they were inside, Luke had come up with a nasty trick. He planted stink bombs inside the restaurant, causing everybody to gag and rush for the exit. Roger and Carmen both ran outside, gagging into the bushes. Luke burst out laughing as he watched everyone scurry away. “You scumbag! You ruined our date!” Roger shouted. “It’s meant to be Carmen and i on a date. I can’t resist you, Carmen Ghia. I want you all to myself. And i will have you,” Luke said. Roger was fed up. “I’ve told you once and i’m telling you again, stay the hell away from my partner! You obviously didn’t get the message so i’m going to tell you again with this!” he shouted, and punched Luke straight in the face. Horrified onlookers gasped. “You ratbag!” Luke shouted, and they both began brawling in the street. “Get him Roger! Beat his ass!” Carmen cheered. They both grappled on the street before police showed up to stop it. “You mongrel! You just wait! I’m gonna kick your ass!” Luke shouted. “Two trannies fighting how hilarious,” a bystander said. “Nobody messes with Roger Debris! Nobody!” Roger shouted. Luke smiled at the police. “Don’t worry sergeant, i’m backing away gracefully. Oh, one more thing before i go,” he said, and he lifted the hem of his dress and let out a big fart. “Oh god,” Roger said, covering his nose. “Phew that’s rancid,” Carmen said. “Hmm, I shouldn’t have had that bowl of baked beans. Then again, it’s better out than in,” Luke said, laughing. “Are you alright darling?” Carmen asked. “Yes. He beat me up quite good but i beat him up too. He deserved it,” Roger replied. Luke was furious. He was going to have Carmen Ghia all to himself one way or another!

That night, Carmen heard a noise on his phone. He sleepily turned over and looked at it. His eyes widened in shock. It was a dirty adult video showing Luke on a bed and posing in very skimpy lingerie. He went close up to the camera and blew a big sloppy kiss. Roger sleepily turned over and hugged Carmen. “Darling, it’s 2am. What’s going on?” he asked. “You really don’t want to know,” he replied. When Roger saw it, he was furious. “This jackass just doesn’t get the message, does he?” he said. He leapt out of bed, got dressed and stormed over to Luke’s house. “I HAVE HAD ENOUGH, O’DONNELL! I KICKED YOUR ASS IN THE STREET BEFORE AND I HAVE NO PROBLEM DOING IT AGAIN HERE IN YOUR FRONT YARD! LEAVE CARMEN ALONE! HE’S MINE!” Roger roared. Luke chuckled. “Ooh the director is angry ooh how scary!” he said. Carmen came over to hopefully settle the situation. “Look Luke, i know you’ve got the hots for me especially from the fact we were in love but that was years ago. Time has changed now and i’ve moved on,” he said. Roger glared at him. “What do you mean you were in love with him?” he asked. Carmen sighed. “It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter now,” he replied. “Of course it matters. Why did you keep this from me? I’m hurt, Carmen. I thought we could be honest with each other,” Roger said. Luke chuckled again. “Mmm i love seeing you two fight. So delicious,” he gushed. Carmen tenderly touched Roger’s face. “Roger, i’m so sorry I wasn’t honest with you. I should have told you. I guess i was scared to. What Luke and i had is in the past. He was so controlling and cruel to me. I left him because i wanted freedom and i wanted someone who truly loved me for who i am and that someone is you. I can’t think of being with someone else again because the only one i want to be with is you, Roger Debris,” he said. Roger smiled slightly. “Eww gross,” Luke said, making a barfing sound. Carmen grabbed him by the shirt. “I will only say this once. Come near me and my family again and i will kick your ass from here to the other end of the upper east side!” he shouted. Luke’s eyes widened. He had never seen Carmen stand up to him before. He was so used to controlling everyone and now it was Carmen’s turn to control him. Roger smirked. “Mmmm Carmen. I love it when you’re angry. It’s such a turn on,” he said. Carmen smiled. Roger looked at Luke’s front lawn. “Hmmm. Such nice, clean grass. Hope you don’t mind if we pleasure ourselves on it,” he said, and they both lay on the grass and began to make love. “Oh god! Stop! Please stop! That’s my lawn!” Luke cried. “Oooooh! What a shame! The precious grass is ruined!” Roger said, and they both burst out laughing.

#the producers #fanfic #love #gay pride

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reimagining-twilight · 2 years

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Chapter Two Open Book Part Two -Jasper

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WARNINGS: umm sarcasm?

I step out of Esme’s car, a buttercup yellow 1962 Volkswagen Karmann Ghia, and into the familiar car park of Forks High School. I drove her to school today, my first day back. I pause, staring at the school. My Instrument case sings in my hand.

“Sweetheart, are you ready?” She asks me, looking slightly worried.

“Yes,” I say, taking her arm. We'd decided early on that I should skip home room in favour of staying in the Auditorium with Esme, that way I wouldn’t have to face the scent of 31 humans in a tiny room right away. And I can use the soundproofed practice rooms to play freely. Because of my ‘anxiety disorder’ the school was forced to agree.

“Remember, if you start feeling overwhelmed, just tell the teacher you don’t feel well, and take my car home, okay? I’ll get a ride with Rosalie,” she says dropping the key in my pocket and rubbing my shoulder.

“Okay . . . Mom!” I tease, but a smile lights her face. She loves it when we call her Mom. I never say it but I really did think of Esme as my mother. While I find everyone else’s constant observation of me annoying, I know Esme really cares. Not that the others don’t but it feels somehow different.

We walk through the soft snowfall to the auditorium. Nobody else is even at the campus yet. Esme unlocks the door and we walk inside, leaving the lights off. It doesn’t matter to our eyes and besides I like the dark.

I set my violin case down on the stage and take out the charcoal coloured instrument. It feels good to have its familiar warm weight in my hands. Breathing in the clear air, I take out the sheet music Mom had given me before we left the house.

The selection is simple, Vivaldi’s winter, Virtual Insanity and Bittersweet Symphony. I know all of them already. I unlock one of the practice rooms and step inside. It’s all black, padded to prevent any sound from escaping and I hear the delicate hum as the soundproofing kicks in. The instrument finds its resting place under my chin and slowly I lift my bow.

When it touches the strings the sound reverberates through the walls, filling the once empty space. The music starts soft then swells twisting into something deep and powerful. I feel the bow begin to heat up against my own fever hot hands. They glow, the white spark spreading from my fingertips through my body, burning me clean. Even my blond hair turns black as coal and my golden eyes blue as the Caribbean.

This is why I can’t play in front of anyone. Playing brings out all the emotions I feel. I can use my music to change how others feel, but not just people within the same room. I could move a whole city like this, maybe more, if I wanted to.

My siblings only vaguely know I have some abstract gift. I’ve caught Edward asking Rosalie why they keep me around, since I don’t mingle with them often. My power goes much, much deeper than even Carlisle knows. Only Esme even knows I own a violin. And that isn’t all. I can use emotions to create physical things, harness someone’s anger to start a fire, sadness for water. Honestly the type of emotion doesn’t matter, I just need something and emotions are always readily available.

Despite the soundproofing, Esme can still hear my melody. She has heard or rather “felt” my music before but she still isn’t prepared for what it brings on—the emotions coursing through her, knocking her to her knees. I watch her fall to the ground, helpless against my sheer power. Jasper would help his mother but I am someone, something else, when I play. Who that is, I don’t know. I’ve never gotten to play long enough to find out.

Esme can’t get up. She lies there twitching, then going perfectly still, crushed by the force of my music. I feel the instrument wavering under my hands, the fragile wood yielding to my stone touch, betraying me. I stop, the silence that falls is nearly as crushing as the sound.

I can destroy the world. I must be kept under lock and key. I know this. That’s why I joined their coven in the first place, to resist. As long as I maintain a conscience, everyone should be safe.

A shaking Esme rises tentatively to her feet, nearly toppling again. The faint glow still covers my skin but the rest of me is returning to something close to normal. My hair, now a dirty blond, is creeping reluctantly toward its natural honey blond colour. My eyes though, they will stay a burned out ash grey for about half an hour, or until I play again.

After a minute of ragged breaths Esme turns on the lights, and gets things in order for her first class in 30 minutes. I’m helping set up music stands when I feel Esme's sudden concern, even sharper because I’ve recently been playing. “What is it?”

She smiles a kind of quiet excitement building, “It seems that Isabella is on the roster for orchestra. I'm excited to meet her, but do you think you’ll be alright?

“I can handle it,” I say, reassuring myself mostly. “I wouldn’t have come back if I hadn’t thought hat I can.” I finish then jump up to the rafters of the grand room’s vaulted ceilings to think about what I would say to Isabella. I want to know more about this girl who drives my senses crazy. What is so special about her?

Soon I hear homerooms letting out, and students walking towards the auditorium, but I’m not ready to leave my perch quite yet. Looking for Isabella, I take a deep breath and watch the students file in. She’s in the back of the line. Today her hair is braided into a crown around her head with a silvery grey ribbon added in for decoration I guess. She wears long grey khakis, combat boots, a white Oxford shirt and a grey pullover jumper. After all this time she still has the wrist brace, I’ll have to ask about that.

She is clearly surprised to see Esme calling the class to attention and I can’t help but laugh at her bewilderment. A smile takes over my entire face as she takes a seat in the violin section. She removes her brace and looks at her wrist with a relived yet unsure epression. When everyone settles I replenish my air supply and hop down from my perch.

She opens her instrument case as I sit down. I set my violin across my lap. (I have to admit it’s looking rather pitiful, an even darker black than before, smoking a bit and still slightly warm from my touch.) I keep my expression open and light, “Hello.”

She looks at me, my violin, then back at me, in disbelief. I’m confused for a second then I remember. She hadn’t been here on her first day of school, she must think I’m stalking her.

I keep my chair as far away as I can, but unlike last time, angle it toward her. “My name is Jasper Hale. I haven’t had a chance to introduce myself. You must be Isabella Swan,” I say. The words are friendly, but she just looks confused.

Then it clicks, she probably thinks I’m a stalker with mental problems.

“I-I umm, yes, umm. Are you okay? Where have you been?” she stutters then blushes, tripping over her words.

“Travelling, with my mother,” I say, which is true, “around Europe mostly.”

I smile thinking about the trip Esme and I took. We went to England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland and then through France, Germany and Spain meeting up with a few of her and Carlisle’s friends. Finally Esme convinced me that if I can resist killing hundreds of Europeans I don’t know, then I can control myself around this one clumsy Arazonian girl (my words not Esme’s). And I’m curious about her.

“Oh, cool” she says, still slightly stunned.

Now for the second half of the question. “And yes I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?” I laugh trying to make up for the fact that I have absolutely no idea what she’s talking about.

“Oh umm well” she looks embarrassed, “It’s just that last time I saw you had that cough, I’m sure you're better now. Just, um forget I said that” she keeps her gaze on the floor.

I’m stunned for a Moment, of all the questions she could’ve asked, she as usual went the kind route. She wanted to make sure I was okay. I’m surprised that she even remembers that I was “sick” when I was so rude to her. Simultaneously I wince at the memory of my fake coughing and intense thirst. The Tristan thing was funny though.

“Oh right, that was no fun but I'm okay now. Thank you for asking.”

She looks like she wants to say more but Esme announces that it’s time to begin their warm up. I say ‘their’ because I’m not in the school orchestra. I think you can guess why. I place my violin neatly in its case, fireproof, and snap it shut. My fingers ache to play again. I stare down at my case. Maybe I can just use the practice room for a few more minutes. No. I can’t risk playing now. I have a rule: no playing with anybody I don’t want to kill in the vicinity.

Yes, I can quite literally kill with my music. All the emotions can cripple a vampire but they would fry a human's brain. The sound waves become physical things and burst their organs, boiling the blood, leaving them still, paralyzed on the floor until they die. I think once the initial schlock wave passes that it’s a quick and peaceful death. Once I focus on someone the music becomes something only they can hear, a personal melody that changes from person to person. A voice brought me back to the school building.

“Aren’t you going to need that?” she asks, skeptical

“No, I’m not in orchestra,” I tell Isabella

“Then why do you have that?”

I evaded her question “It’s the anxiety. I can’t play in front of anyone but Esme.” I tell her. She looks gives me a sympathetic look, she of all people would understand. I feel bad for lying to her.

“Why do you have that? Did you hurt yourself?” I counter her question motioning with my book to her brace on the floor.

She looks thoughtful for a Moment, debating wat to tell me. “I sprained my wrist.” I can tell that she’ lying and it only makes me more intrigued but she has music to play so I hold my tongue.

A few measures in, Isabella is staring at me again. She looks very deliberately back to her music, I hide my smile and go back to my book. After a few seconds I glance at her again. She looks up at me. I can feel realization from her and intuition flickers in her eyes.

“Did you get contacts?” she blurted out. Crap, are my eyes still grey? they shouldn’t be. I can’t risk her noticing the change so I just, as they say, “went with it.”

“Yeah, I’m a bit farsighted. I’m surprised you noticed. Why?”

“I thought there is something different about your eyes!” she exclaimed.

“Yup, it’s probably my other pair of contacts. These are new. The others make my eyes look black. It’s actually kind of creepy. Don’t you think so?”

“Oh yeah, totally,” she laughed, “like a demon or something . . . No

offense, but they look pretty real”

“None taken,” I say quickly before she can dwell on the ‘or something’ part too long. “Wait a second, you actually thought my eyes are black!” I tease, redirecting her.

She blushes, her blood pulling me in, but I fight against it pushing my chair farther away, “No of course not, I’m just saying.”

My improv worked this time but I would have to be more careful. I’m still curious so while they are taking a quick break before their next song, I turn back to her, pushing excitement. “Snow is exciting isn’t it?”

She smiles widely and I turn it off. I don’t want to manipulate her emotions too much. “Not really,” she responds in a natural state now.

“You don’t like the cold?” I say. It’s probably true, with her coming from the self anointed “valley of the sun.”

“Or the wet. Once people start throwing wet stuff I go inside,” she affirmed.

“Forks must be a very difficult place for you to live then,” I noted.

“You have no idea!” She laughs without humour and I look at her confused because I really don’t. She looks away

“Then what, if I may be so bold as to ask, brought you to Forks?”

Then, as if she didn’t know, I added, “it’s the rainiest place in the continental U.S.”

Esme calls the class back to order but I don’t care, I still have questions.

“It’s complicated,” is all she says, and now I’m really curious. She looks up at me again, not quite staring, but fixated. it’s very . . . different to have someone look at me like that, a strange feeling of being watched but not in a bad way, almost warm.

Esme picked up her baton, and motioned for them to play. About five measures in the curiosity had built up to the point where I thought I would explode, even the thirst is ignorable.

I look over at Isabella, “I think I can keep up.” Esme frowns at my disruption.

“My mother remarried, last September,” Isabella says quickly

“Mm, do you not like the new husband?” I ask gently.

“No, Phil is fine, a little young, but nice enough,” she says and I wondered for a second if she is really the child instead of the parent. She’s mature far beyond her age. What is her mother like to make her this way? Wise or something else?

With any discretion out the window I ask my questions openly now, “Why don’t you stay with them then?”

“Phil plays ball for a living, so he travels a lot,” she explained, trying to keep her eyes on the music and not fall behind.

“Would I know about him?” I ask not knowing many sport players beyond Christiano Rinaldo, Hank Aaron, and Tom Brady

“No. He isn’t very good.” I laughed at her cutting assessment. “Strictly minor league, that’s why he’s always moving around.”

“So your mother banished you here to travel with him?” I laughed, trying to be casual and not offend her with my suggestion against her mother.

She tilts her chin up a bit clearly annoyed. “No, I sent myself here. My mother stayed with me at first, but she was unhappy. She missed Phil, so I decided it was time to spend some quality time with Charlie.” I can tell that no matter what she convinced anybody of, she isn’t a fan of this plan.

“And now you’re unhappy,” I state to gauge her reaction.

“Does it matter?” She counters.

“Well, it just seems a little unfair is all,” I note again.

“Hasn’t anybody ever told you? Life isn’t fair,” she says, the sarcasm dripping like acid in her tone.

“Yes, I believe I've heard that somewhere,” I pause, debating whether or not to tell her my assessment of her situation, “but I think you’re suffering much more than you let on.” I look back to my book.

A few minutes later she turned to me again, “Why does it even matter to you?”

And I told the truth this time, “I don’t know.”

Now we aren’t holding a conversation anymore and I push my chair back trying to escape the burn in my throat that her beautiful scent brings on.

When class is almost over Esme commissions five people from the clarinet section, a brown haired 11th grader named Marta; her sister, Eve; a lanky blond girl named Amy; a tall chubby boy named Justin and a super short boy named Joey, to give each row two stacks of fliers. The class is supposed to take one of each and pass them to the next person.

The head of Isabella’s row, Mathew Daniels, a Latino boy with glasses, passes the fliers to another boy who passes them further down the row. Finally the stack is passed to me. I take two fliers, even though I’d never need a flier to remember the concert and I’d never attend the stupid lacrosse fundraiser. I pass the stack to Isabella, my hand bumping hers. I know she feels how cold it’s . She looks up in surprise and I pull my hand away before she can say anything.

At the ring of the bell I go to Esme’s office to store my deadly instrument but it’s locked and she isn’t there. I preoccupy myself with my book. “Isabella!” Esme calls,“It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”

Pressing myself flat against the door to the office, I look up. Bella is looking at me and the weight of her gaze spreads through me again, so I return to my book, feigning annoyance.

I’m tuning them out when a tidbit catches my attention. Esme has asked her about the music programme in Arizona.

She hesitates, “Umm, no. I actually hadn’t been planning on joining the programme here. This is Charlie’s idea. He wanted to help me make some friends.” Interesting. I’m surprised. She must have practised on her own time.

When Esme comes back she unlocks the door and I stow the instrument under the office sofa and hurry out the door to catch up with Isabella.

I can feel the shock, disbelief, and self doubt coming from Isabella as she exits the Auditorium. I also see Tristan off in the distance now, but speed walking toward Isabella. She sees him and I hear her sigh. She clearly doesn’t like his attention—how can he not see that—so I decide to save her.

She’s crossing the staff lot back to the main campus when I tap her arm, “Hey Isabella!” She jumps. Careful to touch her as little as possible, I steady her. My hand feels warm, an entirely new sensation, when I pull it back.

“I’m sorry to startle you, Miss Swan, I just wanted to ask if I may walk you to class. I understand that we both have second hour Biology III.”

“Umm,yes,” she says dazed.

“Okay, are you sure?” I ask. Did she really want to be with me, the vampire?

“Yes,” she says and I can feel her shock and now her annoyance, but it isn’t directed at me. Probably Tristan who is pouting from a distance.

The walk to Biology is silent and my table mate, Beuy, is out sick with the flu so Isabella sits down next to me. Microscopes and slides are set up at each table for our lab on phases of mitosis. “Ladies first,” I offered, sliding the microscope toward Isabella.

“Thank you,” she responds softly, placing the first slide in, “Anaphase.”

I don’t doubt her intelligence, not for a second, but her eyes are only human. “Do you mind if I look?”

She is obviously miffed at my apparent lack of trust. “Of course I trust you, ma’am, I just want to check.” I gave the slide a quick glance and she is right, “Anaphase.”

“See, I’m right,” she notes a little smugly and I quietly write the observation on our sheet.

We finished quickly, far before anyone else and Mr. Banner gave us the stupid painted onion he had as a prize.

My next class is Trigonometry which I share with the annoying Tristan boy. I take the opportunity to smile smugly as I walk past him to sit in the back. The teacher never calls on me and I sit quietly sketching Isabella and her big brown eyes.

Spanish is the same, minus Tristan (I finished my sketch.) and Physical Education as usual is horrible. We are playing basketball. Rosalie and I, our own mini team. Rose scored 7 times because all the boys are staring at her backside. She loves the attention. Not a day after she received her P.E uniform she had further shortened the already thigh length shorts and darted in the once loose shirt, but, hey, if that can make P.E better for her, who am I to judge.

Emmet is waiting outside the gymnasium and draws Rose in for a long kiss.

Emmet noticed me. “Hey Jazz. Dude! Your little human is adorable! She has a serious balance problem, but a little vampirism would clear that right up!” Emmet says being careful not to let the humans hear. ‘My human,’ ‘a little vampirism,’ is he kidding? I surprise myself by wanting to rip his head off. Since I joined the Cullens I’m usually a peaceful being.

“Keep it down!” I muttered, settling for punching his arm instead. Rose glares daggers at me.

“Your human? What? You two are going public now? Why don’t we just. . .”

“Rose, Babe, calm down. I’m just joking,” Emmet says, appeasing Rosalie.

As we walk to the cafeteria I explain to them the “intricacies” of my friendship with Isabella, whom Emmet had coined “Izzy.”

Instead of my usual reading, today I listen to the conversation at Isabella’s table. There is excited talk of more snow and everyone but Isabella is excited, which made sense given what she’d told me about her dislike of the cold and wet. She glances up at our table and Rosalie rolls her eyes. She doesn't hate Isabella, just the idea of befriending a human. She would never be the one to put her family at risk. I'm even careful as I do so now.

Alice, however, loves the idea and Isabella. She even takes a small break from Edward to smile at her. I, too, give Isabella a small smile. She is looking at Alice and Edward and I roll my eyes and she smiles back.

Emmet looks very pointedly at Isabella then leans over to stage-whisper, “Dude, you know I have gym with Izzy right?” I nod. “Well, your human thinks you have multiple personality disorder.”

I turn to look at her and can’t help laughing, really laughing. I hadn’t laughed like that in a while! Rose, Alice and Edward stare at me. Of course Isabella thinks this! I’m not surprised.

I can feel extreme frustration from her as she turns red as a wheel barrow.

I hate it but I’m honestly excited for history, and not just the lessons. The events leading up to the civil war are easy for me since that is my childhood. I’m excited to see Isabella, much more excited than I should be. I’m still curious. I want to know what makes her tick. The more I think about it the creepier it sounds.

Isabella takes her usual seat next to me in History but we don’t talk unless Mr. Jefferson asks us to disscus a question with our row. The Tristan boy throws pitiful glares at Isabella and I pretend not to notice.

By English we have fallen into a routine almost, only this class I share with Rosalie. I attempt to introduce the two, “Isabella, this is my sister Rosalie. I believe that you’ve met.”

“Yes, we have. It’s nice to meet you formally though,” she says, agreeable as ever.

“Rosalie,” I reminded her.

“Isabella,” she nodded stiffly.

“Forgive her, she has a hard time meeting new people.” Attempt being the operative word there.

At the final bell Rose and I go off to our cars. As I’m walking toward Esme’s car in the staff lot, I hear an obscenely loud engine roar to life then brake immediately. Isabella had almost totaled Annie Someta’s 2006 Toyota Corolla. Her second attempt is more successful and she slides easily out of the large parking slot.

NOTES: I changed Jasper gift a bit just to add a bit of extra interest, not that it wasn’t cool before but I've always wondered if he could channel his abilities into an instrument if he chose to play one so here we are.

Jasper and Esme are just such a cute mother and son duo ❤️

#Twilight Reimagined: Jasper x Bella #chapter 2 #Chapter Two Open Book Part Two #Jasper hale pov

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lasquadranights · 2 years

Text

Car Ride

Risotto x Reader

Content Warnings: References to Polygamy

***

The glint of the polished metal was almost mesmerizing. With a far too eager grin, you ran your fingers over the glossy paint of the car. It really was a marvel that you wouldn’t have ever gotten to play with before. Now, you were currently swinging the keys around in your hand.

“I know Ghia,” you interrupted. “Trust me, I’ll be extra careful with your baby.”

He scowled at you. “Don’t be stupid. If I’m letting you drive my car so obviously, I already trust you.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.”

“But the point remains that if this car comes back with any damage, you’ll learn how easy it is to snap off your fingers when they’re frozen solid.”

You rolled your eyes at his back as he stalked away, hands in his pockets and muttering under his breath. The sleek black car he climbed into was far more suited to the world of politicians: scarcely identifiable and aided with bulletproof windows. You waved as it pulled away before turning your gaze back to your prize.

When Ghiaccio had asked you to take his car for a service while he away, you’d happily leapt at the opportunity. With an added payment of being allowed to drive it around before then, of course.

You slid into the front seat and leaned back, happily tilting your head up to the sky and breathing in the salty air. This was why he never put the cover up, surely.

A shadow fell across your face and you frowned as you opened one eye.

“Hey Riz,” you grinned. “Look what I have.”

It was a very bright day, shadows cast across Risotto’s expression to make him come off terribly intimidating. “I thought for sure Ghiaccio wouldn’t have given you the keys. I’m quite surprised.”

“I know,” you laughed. “Even after I told him I want to see how fast she can go. But all he said was to make sure there weren’t other cars around.”

Risotto frowned, a small change to his usual deadpan but a noticeable one.

“Wanna come with?”

He was busy. He’d told you as much in the early morning when you’d brought him some toast you’d snatched from Gelato’s plate. You fully expected Risotto to merely wish you luck and disappear back into his office after a soft kiss.

It genuinely surprised you when he walked around the car, climbing into the passenger seat that looked far too small for him.

“Where are we going?”

You grinned, turning the keys and listening to the engine purr. “I don’t know yet.”

The tightly packed streets of the city during the early afternoon didn’t give you much space to enjoy the top being down but once you made it to the sprawling roads, you wasted no time. She almost flew across the open lanes, wind whipping your hair back and almost stealing your sunglasses.

Risotto managed to catch his hat before it disappeared. He looked far softer without it. The sunlight danced across his hair like the glittering surface of a lake.

You reached over to catch a strand between your fingers. “You’re too handsome,” you laughed. “It honestly isn’t fair.”

“You should keep your attention on the road.”

“That’s hard to do when there’s somebody like you next to me.” Still, you obediently shifted your gaze back to the tarmac. You settled into the seat and basked in the sunlight against your skin.

Risotto’s hand settled on your thigh and you turned to smile at him when you noticed something was wrong. He was always pretty pale but not quite like this.

The car slowed down as your concern grew. “Riz? Are you alright?”

“Yes? Why do you ask?”

You slowed down even more. All the adrenaline gone from the combination of driving under the speed limit and your worry about your partner, the winding roads were feeling a little less exciting and more dangerous. You pulled off on the side. The crunch of the rocks beneath the tires reminded you just how far you’d driven out.

Another car came speeding past in the opposite direction, faster than even you’d been going. You watched it curiously, eager to see the model but unable to in the reflection of the sun.

Without the wind, you were actually feeling quite hot. How Risotto was sitting comfortably in full black, you didn’t know. At least his shoulders weren’t as tense anymore.

“Ghia’s car runs like a dream,” you said, eager to break the silence that had fallen over you. “Impressive given how often I’ve seen him kick the poor thing.”

Risotto nodded. “It’s a very efficient car. It’s quite safe so you wouldn’t need to worry too much about any incidents while driving it.”

“That doesn’t make you feel better, does it?”

“Unfortunately not.”

You both sat in the too-hot sun. The tomato fields stretched out beside the road, sprawling in an almost unending fashion. They were so close that you could reach out and pick one if you so wanted to. It would undoubtedly make Prosciutto happier though he would frown if you said you didn’t know which farm it had come from.

“Were you planning on going anywhere in particular?”

You shrugged and gestured toward your feet. “Not really. There’s this one area that I like to go and sit by when I have some time. I stole the leftovers from the fridge also so they’re back there.”

Ghiaccio didn’t actually mind eating in his car. He did mind messing. But you were fairly sure of your ability to eat pasta without spilling it everywhere.

“We should get going then?” Risotto mentioned.

“You sure?”

He nodded.

You restarted the car and pulled off. The silence stretching between you and Risotto was heavy with words unsaid. His thumb moved in soothing circles across your thigh as you climbed along the winding roads.

Another car overtook you, disappearing over the hills at top speed.

Risotto sighed. “I hope you don’t think I have any worries about your driving.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame you,” you chuckled. “I was going a little fast.”

“Fast, yes, but not quite reckless. I have faith in your ability to not do anything that would put us in danger.” He watched the scenery with an expression that was far away.

You must have been going faster than you thought because you recognised the area far sooner than you’d expected to arrive. Oops. Still, the view was amazing and you pulled underneath an old lemon tree with hanging broughs that nearly drooped into the car. The fruit was never worth harvesting but it offered the best shade.

And an even better view of the lake before you.

The leftovers had shifted under your seat but you found them alongside a pair of Melone’s sunglasses (which you would be most certainly claiming for yourself).

“I only brought one fork so we’re going to have to share,” you contemplated.

“It’s alright. I don’t need to have anything.”

You held the fork up to him anyway, patiently waiting until he ate before you tried some of your own. The cold pasta wasn’t as good as it had been the previous night but there was a sweetness that came from knowing you’d won the race to it.

“I quite like it here,” Risotto mentioned, squeezing your leg a little before he moved his hand away. He reached up to touch one of the delicate leaves.

“I love the peacefulness of it,” you agreed. “It’s tranquil.”

Risotto showed you a small ladybug crawling across his palm. It settled on his wrist, clearly content with being cradled by a giant. For minutes, you both watched the little beetle before it flew off back into the grass.

“Thank you.”

“For?”

Risotto glanced at you. “Earlier. You stopped even though you didn’t need to.”

“Oh.” You weren’t sure how best to respond, after all, what else were you going to have done? Giving him a heart attack wasn’t high on your list of plans for the day. “You’re welcome. I’m surprised you came with actually.”

“I thought it would be better than waiting for you to get back while pretending that’s not what I’m doing.”

You laughed, the image of Risotto staring at the door like a lost puppy popping into your mind. He did get that expression from time to time so it wasn’t too difficult to imagine. “At least then you’d know what I do when nobody is at the house.”

“You mean aside from trying on everybody’s clothes?”

“Okay, how do you know that exactly?”

“It’s surprising how often you all forget what Metallica can do.”

#jjba risotto #la squadra x reader #jjba x reader #risotto x reader

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jar-of-ectoplasm · 3 years

Text

La Squadra reacting to their S/O getting injured

a/n: no sorlato this time i'm sorry :(

Genre/Warnings: Not really fluff cause of all the injury bs, comfort, mentions of blood, mentions of severe injuries, mentions of violence/death, medical gore (kinda, it isn't graphic but it's still there)

~Risotto~

-His first instinct is to have a panic attack

-Literally, he has no idea how to react. He knows this job is dangerous but Riz never thought he'd see you getting dragged back into HQ with your own blood soaking your clothes

-Shaking and on the verge of a complete breakdown, he takes you from whoever was kind enough to bring you inside and hauls ass to the bathroom

-After patching you up the best he possibly could, he'll lay you down so you can get some rest while he goes to freak out in his office

-After a shit ton of crying and blaming himself for your injuries, he finally calms down enough to climb into bed, hold you as tight as he can and fall asleep

~Prosciutto~

-he wasn't too worried about you being on a mission with just Ghiaccio. until he heard loud cussing and screaming coming from the living room

-You had a few broken ribs and were coughing up blood into the kitchen sink while Pros was yelling and scolding Ghia about how his carelessness could've gotten you killed

-Pros ran you a bath so you could relax a bit and talked Risotto into giving him all of your work for the next few weeks while you were healing

-PDA will be limited while your ribs are busted the fuck up, he doesn't want to end up hurting you more or having the broken bones puncture an organ or something

-Pros will send Pesci to check up on you every once in a while if he has to leave for a hit (and he can't bare to see you weak and in pain, it terrifies him)

~Pesci~

-As soon as Pesci heard you scream on a mission with him, he immediately thought you were dead

-Crying and yelling some intelligible sentences over and over again, he carried you to Prosciutto's car after dealing with your unruly target

-The entire drive home, he was worried about you bleeding out in the backseat. He didn't even think about how mad Pros would be when he found the bloodstains on his seats, all his mind focused on was you and your safety

-He carried you carefully into the living room so Melone could patch you up. While that was going on, Prosciutto was yelling at and comforting him while he had a breakdown upstairs

-While you're healing, he'll be extra gentle with you (even though he already treated you like fine china before). He won't let Formaggio around you because he always gets rowdy and there's no way in hell he's gonna hurt you anymore than you already are

~Illuso~

-When you came limping into HQ on the verge of passing out due to the pain of having to walk on a broken leg, Illuso screamed at the top of his lungs. He didn't believe this was really happening, there was no way you got hurt and he wasn't there to protect you

-He blames himself fully. Even though he wasn't with you, he still thinks he could've been keeping an eye on you through the mirrors. No amount of encouraging words from his teammates or you will make him change his mind

-Lu keeps you in the mirror world until you heal fully. There is no possible fucking way he'll let you hurt yourself again on his watch. His heart can't take that, and your leg probably couldn't either

-Anything you ask him for, he'll get you while you're recovering. You want food Illuso thinks is absolutely disgusting? He'll get it for you without making some rude ass comment. You want to wear his "off-limits" hoodie? He'll be in the closet trying to find it as soon as you ask

-Illuso won't let anyone near you while you're healing. He loves his teammates like they were his own brothers, but there is no possible way he'd let any of them watch over you

~Formaggio~

-Screaming and crying the moment he sees you bleeding. He'll be asking you so many questions about what happened and who did this to you that your thought process will be even more jumbled

-He'll be hovering around you while Melone stitches up your wounds; petting your head, holding your hands and kissing your cheeks to try to make the process a little less painful

-Maggio will be right by your side at all times. He's so worried that something small might happen to you that just reopens your wounds all over again

-He's weirdly good at taking care of you?? Like, he knows all the fastest working painkillers and good exercises for you to do to make sure your muscles aren't fucked up after not moving for about a week

-Lots of gentle cuddling. If you thought Formaggio was touchy before, get ready for him literally never letting go of you. He will back off if you tell him he's starting to act like a parasite though

~Ghiaccio~

-Sweet Christ whoever you were partnered with on this mission is fucked. As soon as Ghiaccio understands how hurt you really are, he's screaming and throwing things at your unfortunate colleague

-But the yelling did nothing to help you. You were pushed from a decently high place and unfortunately ended up with a split forehead and a concussion

-When Melone broke that news to him, Ghia felt his stomach drop. Did he make your head hurt even more? Did he somehow manage to make it even worse?

-And that's how Ghiaccio managed to hold a vow of silence for the entirety of your healing time. He wouldn't even whisper to you, he was that afraid of hurting you even more

-Ghia will make his hand ice cold and rest it on your head so the swelling goes down. There's no point in going back and forth from the kitchen getting you a new ice pack every time it melts when he's literally a human freezer

~Melone~

-As the resident medic of La Squadra, Melone knows of your injuries almost immediately. From what Prosciutto had told him over the phone, the injuries weren't lethal but that didn't mean he wasn't incredibly worried

-Once he got you in his arms, he tended to the bullet wounds as quick as he could. He didn't want to run the risk of you bleeding out right in front of him

-Since he knows so much about medical stuff, he'll take great care of you. Medication will be administered in the correct dosage and on time and your injuries will be cleaned and bandaged properly to prevent any infections

-When Mel's "nurse mode" is turned off, he'll be all over you (being cautious of your injuries of course). He wants you to feel as comfortable as possible during your recovery

#tw blood #tw medical #tw injury #jjba x reader #jjba headcanons #la squadra #la squadra x reader #la squadra headcanons #risotto nero x reader #prosciutto x reader #pesci x reader #illuso x reader #formaggio x reader #ghiaccio x reader #melone x reader

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sims4cars-breezemotors · 2 years

Text

“Not just a sports car….”

1967 Volkswagen Karmann Ghia

"The Volkswagen Karmann Ghia is the most economical sports car you can buy… it's just not the most powerful.” So says the announcer in the commercial introducing the Volkswagen Karmann Ghia. Although it’s true enough that it was never a powerful sports car, in the looks department the Karmann Ghia has character and style in spades. The car has seen more than 20 years of production and the only cosmetic changes were larger bumpers and head and taillights."

Available for Patrons since March 2’nd.

Model with HQ interior, open/close doors, front trunk and functional light.

Go and join my Patreon!

#the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims4 #sims4car #the sims 4 cc #the sims 4 custom content #thesims4cars #the sims 4 cars #sims4vehicles #the sims #the sims 4 cc finds

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seiyasabi · 3 years

Note

When I see your post, I can tell how much la squadra loves his darling and kids. If one day his child ask "How mom and dad met?" What he will answer? All I think just their mom's laugh when she think about how they met and how they kidnap her. Like she don't care anymore and "don't be like your father k?"

Oof, this would be a mess and a half lmao

Yan La Sqaudra: Kid asks ab how Mom and Dad met HCs:

Risotto:

-Risotto deadass doesn't know what to say to your son

-He'll say something along the lines of, 'We met whilst I was at work'

-Later on, your son will ask you

-You'll tell him a PG version of what happened

-He'll look v conflicted, but you'll reassure him that you love him v much, and you know he isn't like that

-Your son will most def not end up like his Papa, seeing how his strong mother tries to keep it together

Prosciutto:

-Pro's daughter asked the both of you at dinner, bc Ris' kid told her what happened w his parents

-Pro will tell her exactly what happened (if she's like 10, if she's younger he'll tell her a kid version of it)

-Ur daughter will just be like 0-0

-You'll try to reassure her, mostly bc ur husband is looking like he'll either pass away or teach u a lesson later

-She tries to pretend that everything is alright, but now that she knows, she can't help but resent her father

Illuso:

-Illuso's twins ask after some kids at school talked ab their parents

-Illuso will refuse to say anything, leaving it entirely up to you

-You'll tell them some bs story, trying to lie to keep the peace

-Ur babies know better tho, and will continue to pry until Illuso finally tells all the tea

-The both of them will then become ur protection squad, constantly glaring at him from your side

Formaggio:

-Formaggio accidentally spills a bit of how u met one day, but he quickly caught himself

-She will ask you about it later, and you'll tell her what happened

-She looks scared af, but you calm her, hugging her to your chest protectively

-You'll tell her you love her, and you wouldn't have changed anything as long as you had her

Melone:

-Nosy kids are being nosy

-They were playing 24 questions w u and Melone

-They ask it as the last question, and Melone's body takes a screenshot

-He'll tell them lies, trying to hide his previous dark actions

-The kids will know that something is up, so they'll be more protective of you, not entirely knowing why

-You'll tell them what happened once they're adults

Pesci:

-Your son will ask after he watches one of those YouTube families lmao

-Pesci's sweating bullets, but he'll sit him down w u, and explain what happened

-Ur son is in shock, bc u and Pesci seem v in love

-U step in and tell him that even tho things weren't good originally, but u love him and his dad v much

-Ur son is conflicted, bc ur dad has never been mean to u, but he can't help but not want u near Pesci anymore

Ghiaccio:

-Ur daughter asked after she learned Pesci's mom's story

-She lowkey got ur hubby's anger issues, uh oh lmao

-Ghia will be incoherent, panicking

-So you'll tell her in a soft voice what happened, and she'll sister lose it

-She'll scream at Ghia for all that he's done, and she promises to never forgive him

-There goes her relationship w her Papa, bc she will become the Y/N Protection Squad

Sorbet and Gelato:

-The twinsies see it on TV, and ask the three of y'all

-Gelato lowkey brags ab what happened, while Sorbet fixes some details Gel floundered

-They're in shock

-The twinsies knew their Dads were weird, but after hearing this, they're scared

-They'll look to you to create their own opinions, but you'll try to reassure them that everything is alright

-That solidifies their opinion; their Mama needs protection from her ¬abusers¬

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

You’re The One I Want To Go Through Time With

Day one of HWOL is finally here!! So excited to share all I’ve written! For today I chose the prompt Neighbors AU!!! You can read this on ao3 also as part of the collection as well!! Hope y’all like it!!

Word Count: 11,952

Rated: G

It finally happens when he’s 15 years old. It’s not like he hasn’t seen it coming, but Steve gets kicked out.

In the very beginning of a particularly brutal Hawkins summer, he had decided to invite Tommy over to smoke weed in the pool house. He thought nothing of it, but the neighbors complained about the smell, and, coupled with every other act of his deemed irresponsible, immature, disgraceful, by his stuck-up parents, a couple of blunts was apparently the last straw.

They tell him the Harringtons had a reputation, an air of elegance and respect they had to upkeep, so they couldn’t just let him bring drugs onto their property. He thought it was ridiculous, considering that they were allowed as much wine aging in the cellar and expensive whiskey propped up on a hutch as they wanted, but when he’d brought it up he’d gotten nothing but a stern look.

They’d been through this a thousand times over, how worthless and terrible a son he could be, grounding him for bringing too many girls home, taking his car away when he failed a class, so he knew to expect a punishment.

This is obviously the next step, the throwing him out on the street thing, for years he could feel the neglect and tension starting to build up and boil over. Sometimes, they’d even hang threats of it over his head, so now that was told he had to be out of the mansion by the end of next week or there would be consequences, it couldn’t be too much of a shocker.

Though at some point, he’s got to wonder if they ever really thought as far ahead as consequences, or if they just knew they trained their boy well enough that it never got that far. If only he had more of a spine.

Now, as unsurprising as the scenario may be, Steve was still absolutely in no way, by any means ready to be thrown out on the streets before he even had his driver’s license.

In the case of emergency, like the time Stephen Sr. got just a little too rough and popped his wrist out of place, or when they’d left him alone for a month at age 9 and he went three days without food because he didn’t know how to turn the stove on, he had his aunt, the thankfully much more compassionate counterpart to his mother, who lived over in California.

The minute they’re gone, having passive aggressively hurried off somewhere, probably the country club or something, to complain about how disappointing their son was with their rich friends, Steve grabs a suitcase from the closet and gives his Aunt Margaret a call.

Before he knows it she’s got him a flight booked, a written agreement from her sister that proved taking him in was legal, and a set of luggage. Three days later, he was flying first class towards the rest of his life.

~~~~~~~

Touching down in San Francisco has got to be the most surreal thing he’s ever done.

He’d never even left the Midwest before, his farthest ventures being into the three states surrounding his home state, so to be charted off to the west coast? It’s an experience alright.

Aunt Margaret is there waiting for him, her jet black permed hair a few inches above the rest, her brown eyes sparkling with the kindest smile he’s ever seen as she runs up to hug him.

She takes all of his bags, swatting his hands away when he tries to carry even one, and makes him sit in the car while she shoves it all into the trunk.

He wasn’t used to not being the help, since that’s all his parents ever really saw him as anyways, only valuable as their son if they got something out of the time they spent with him. It’s got him feeling weird the whole drive back to the Margos apartment, like he’s in some alternate reality where people are nice to him for a change.

She lives in one of those shared places, a duplex where the house is divided into two halves for two different renters, the very kind his mother would’ve turned her nose up at despite having been raised in one herself. Margaret told him there was a mother and son who lived in the other half, but they’re quiet enough, and polite.

Just pulling up outside of the house, Steve already knows it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

The house itself, painted a pale shade of peeling yellow and missing the majority of the shingles off of the roof, is actually a reasonable size, a direct contrast to the mansion he grew up in, fit for a dozen but occupied by one most days.

Brutal summer heat has dried up the lawn and the garden so they aren’t perfectly tailored, not trimmed by underpaid staff or watered by automatic sprinklers. All across it there’s a scattering of ornaments, like colorful pinwheels in the front garden, and plastic flamingos standing guard by the mailbox.

There’s even a rickety old fence, all mossy and broken up to mark the edges of their property, so different from the white vinyl fence in his backyard at his parents house.

It would seem too that the garage was only big enough for one car, not three like he was used to, and that the makeshift gravel driveway leading up to it was at max capacity with only his aunts Oldsmobile Cutlass Calais, and a dinged up old Karmann Ghia the same color as the house parked in it.

Basically, there were none of the telltale signs that a neglected rich boy lived there, and from that alone he already knew he belonged here.

His aunt hurries him into their section of the house, theirs is the right side, so he can get to resting off the jet lag before he starts unpacking, but he’s far too distracted taking everything in to worry about being a little drowsy.

The rooms are small and the ceilings are low. Where there would’ve been beige and white and other sophisticated tones, there was a rainbow of colors in Margos apartment, from the curtains to the carpet, the Afghan on the back of the couch to the little trinkets in the entertainment center and windowsills.

He notices that, to accommodate for the heavy summer heat, there was a fan spinning in the corner, and all the windows were left wide open. His parents had the windows painted shut back home.

It might’ve been overwhelming, being thrown into a place like this so suddenly, but in his heart he knows this was what he was made for: a cozy life with someone who treated him with the bare minimum of respect.

~~~~~~~

Eventually Steve does fall asleep, the switch from Eastern Standard to Pacific time just being too great for his body. He doesn’t really mean to, he thought he’d just lay down for a minute while he was putting his clothes away in his new dresser, but he ends up sleeping until it’s almost dark out.

He goes looking for Margo when he realizes the house is empty, an irrational pit of dread growing in his chest at the familiarity of being alone, and finds her out back.

The yard also seems to be shared with the other house, a wispy line of barely showing through grass separating the two where a divider had once been, but had since been ripped up.

His aunt is with another woman, a blonde lady who he assumed was from the next door apartment, were sitting in mismatched lawn chairs, cigarettes glowing as the sun got lower and lower in the sky.

Margaret beckons him over once she notices him, and shows him off to the woman. It’s not at all like his mother would’ve done it, none of the flaunting him to make a good impression. This is more like her wanting to introduce him because she genuinely cares.

In a way, it almost makes Steve more uneasy. He could handle all the fake stuff with only the slightest hint of discomfort at being gawked at, because most of the time he’d never have to see those people again, but this was astronomically different.

“Maria, this is my nephew Steve.” Deep blue eyes seem to take him in, accompanied by a polite smile that makes his stomach drop for no good reason.

He panics, shifts into the role of the perfect little socialite he’d been working on his whole life. Without thinking, he extends his hand for her to and produces the generic response his mother’d trained into him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms..”

She takes his hand, but looks a little surprised about doing it. “Hargrove. But we don’t have to do formalities.”

“Right.” It feels awkward to Steve, but judging from the laid back attitude of the women, it’s not a universal sentiment. That only makes it more embarrassing, to be the only one bothered by it.

His aunt leans back in her chair, tapping the ash of the end of her cigarette and tells him, “Go ahead and grab a chair Stevie.”

He straightens his back out and scans the yard, expecting a chair to already be propped open somewhere. The confusion must be apparent on his face when he finds nothing but grass and more grass, because his aunt specifies, “By the shed, kiddo.”

His parents always told him they weren’t allowed to have lawn furniture except the pool chairs cemented to the ground, because they said it didn’t fit the lifestyle they tried to lead. Even the concept of a shed would’ve been insulting to their tastes.

He's done enough growing up to know now that they were just afraid to look too much like they were people who lived in rural Indiana instead of in true big city luxury. They couldn’t risk seeming too much like they weren’t in the upper middle, it would be a disgrace.

The contrast between that and just sitting out there and not having his guard up is so, grounding. Not having anything at all to do but just, sit and appreciate instead of performing and worrying, it’s a lot to take in at once.

He was so nervous the whole way up, even though it was his aunt and he already knew she was nice, that they wouldn’t get along, since that’s the way things always were with his own mum, and lord knows he hardly ever even spoke to his father.

But it’s really not tense at all, actually, it’s sort of the opposite. For once in his life he feels free of expectations, and takes the moment to just exist. Ruthie and Stephen Sr. had long ago made sure that was a concept he could barely understand.

It’s not too long after that that the screen door to Maria’s side of the house swings open, scaring Steve so bad he almost tips his chair over as he startles.

There’s a boy who he’s guessing is about his age leaning out the door, but from the distance he’s at and with how dark it’s getting, Steve doesn’t see much else about him. “M back momma.”

“Okay baby.” The screen door clicks shut again in the next moment, and Maria offers Steve an apologetic smile “You’ve gotta excuse my Billy. He’s not too good with other kids.”

“No, it’s alright.” He assures her, like a polite social butterfly should.

Maria goes in a little while after that, and Margaret and Steve follow suit, since the sun’s almost all the way down.

But Steve’s curious now. He wants to know more about the boy, Billy, he thinks was what Maria called him. It’s only right to wonder, being that they’re neighbors now and all.

It gets brought up later that night, when they’re watching TV on the couch, a thrifted, feather stuffed thing he thought was simultaneously the most hideous and most comfortable thing he’d ever sat on.

“I didn’t know you had neighbors.” He’d been trying to work himself up to talking about it, sitting in the corner of the couch in a little ball and picking at his nails as he worked up his courage.

It was funny, being so nervous over casual conversation, but he guesses he could blame his parents for that one.

His own mum wouldn’t have even paid him any mind, at most pretending to listen while her eyes stayed trained to the television or magazine or coworker in front of her and hummed a non committal response, but Margo turns her whole body on the couch to face him while she answers him, with a complete sentence even. “Oh, people used to come and go all the time over there.”

“How long have they been here? Maria and her son?”

She thinks for a moment, a little surprised at her nephew's interest in the topic of their neighbors. “I don’t know, probably about a year or so now.”

“What’re they like?” He comes across as maybe a little too eager, and his aunt notices.

“What’s got you so curious?” There’s a teasing bit of reprimanding in her tone, just enough to suggest that she knows he’s being a nib-nose, but doesn’t mind it.

And he feels himself flush, because he is being nosy. To try to save face just a little, he comes up with an excuse that isn’t quite a lie. “Nothin’, just knew all my neighbors back in Hawkins, I guess.”

But she wasn’t upset with him, it wasn’t her intention to get him to shut up, like it would’ve been had he heard the same thing from one Ruthie Harrington, so she answers that question too. “I don’t know, they’re nice, sort of reserved, but I’ve never had any problems with them.”

~~~~~~

The two boys are properly introduced for the first time the next morning, when Steve goes out to fetch the mail for Margret. It feels like the least he can do for bumming off of his aunt.

Stepping out on the porch just shy of 8 in the morning and not seeing dewey grass, or the early sunshine muted behind rolling fog and dreary clouds is something he’s going to have to get used to.

Summers in Hawkins were always muggy, full of thunderstorms and unpredictably dreary days. San Francisco is so bright, so different, and such a relief.

While Steve basks in it, the already warm breeze and the sun shining bright, the neighbors’ door opens up and Billy comes out to do the same, standing on his tip-toes to reach up into the mailbox beside the door, holding a traveler's mug of coffee in the opposite hand.

When he turns around to go back inside, Steve, staying true to wanting to get to know the other boy better, has taken a few steps closer, and has extended a hand for Billy to shake, the same sort of introduction panic he’d felt last night.

But, Billy, seeing that his hands are a bit preoccupied by a stack of bills and a cup of coffee, just offers a sheepish smile.

Steve settles for a formal introduction without a handshake, though it’s still too stiff an interaction to really get to know him beyond the awkward new rich kid in town. “Hi. My name is Steve Harrington. I’m uh, I'm your new neighbor.”

“Pleasure to meet you Steve Harrington. M’Billy” They stand there, neither of them making any move to do anything but just look at one another. Billy clears his throat and shakes the coffee cup towards Steve, sensing that maybe this was the place for hospitality. “You want some? My momma always makes too much.”

“No thanks. I’m uh, allergic to coffee beans.”

“Huh.” He seems amused by that, scrunches his nose up like he doesn’t believe it, and Steve wants to curl up and disappear. “I’ll see you later then, Steve Harrington.”

He watches the other boy turn back to leave after that, and still sort of just stands there before his brain comes back on and he realizes he should say something in return. “Right, uh, bye.”

It’s just a moment's passing, but Steve can’t get the interaction out of his head.

He chalks it up to being nervous that his new neighbors won’t like him, the fear that Aunt Margo will send him back to his parents if he can’t get along here, and that makes logical sense, except, what he’s caught up on is Billy’s crooked smile, and his blond curls that lay just past his ears, messy from just waking up and bleached from the sun, and the spatter of dark freckles across his nose.

First full day in California and he has a crush on the neighbor kid. He can’t believe himself.

There isn’t very much time to mull that fact over though, because, over breakfast, what his aunt calls her ‘special occasion breakfast’ of cinnamon rolls with ice cream, she tells him she’s going to do some errands today.

And that’s alright, he tells her he’ll be fine all by himself, and he is, for the first few hours, but the more time she’s gone, the worse and worse he starts to feel. It’s that worry again, that deep rooted fear that he’ll be left alone forever.

Experience has taught him to try to calm himself down, to catch his breath and try to focus on the fact that he knows he’s being irrational, but those techniques don’t cut it, as they often don’t, and he’s sending himself further into a panic attack trying to think too hard about it

Sitting inside, he gets stir crazy, feels suffocated by everything that had before been inviting to him, so he goes for some fresh air out front. Watching the road for so long, just waiting for the Oldsmobile to pull up, he starts to feel antsy again, so he goes out back where it’s quiet instead.

There’s a glider on the porch back there, an old rusty thing that squeaked every time Steve rocked it forward or back, but the calming motion of it is probably the only thing keeping him from spiraling too far.

He doesn’t really know what time it is anymore, only that he’s hungry, and that the sun’s going down, and that he’s been sort of zoned out back there for a long while. He feels hot and cold at the same time, and he’s lost in his head.

The sound of a screen door gently tapping against the side of the house brings his eyes up from the spot on the ground he’d been staring at with tears in his eyes, but it isn’t his aunt Margaret coming home, it’s just Billy.

With his hands stuffed in his pockets, leaning against the wall between the back doors, he says real quiet like, “Momma told me to ask if you wanted some of the dinner she made.”

He shrugs. “I’m alright.”

“I figured.” Billy looks at the floor while he tries to figure out how he wants to approach this. For a long moment, neither of them say a word, no sound between them but distant field crickets, until Billy asks, his voice quiet enough it barely registers in Steve’s mind. “You okay?”

If he’s being entirely honest, Steve doesn’t really know if he’s okay. He trusted his aunt enough to move all the way across the country with her, and yet he can’t manage enough trust to believe her when she said she’d come home from some errands? Doesn’t sound too okay to him.

But he’s not in Hawkins, he’s away from the people he knows for sure wouldn’t be coming back for him unless it was to pull something like they had and treat him like garbage. So in a way, he guesses he’s better than ever.

Unable to think of any words that might convey what he’s thinking, Steve just shrugs again, but Billy seems to get it. He sits down next to Steve on the glider and plants his feet so it won’t move, and so Steve’s attention will be on him.

Knowing he’s got Steve’s focus, since he looks over at him with glossy eyes, Billy tries to reassure him, “Your aunt’s a good lady. She wouldn’t leave you.”

“Who said I thought she would?” It sounds pathetic, wet and stuffy with the remnants of tears he hadn’t known were falling, but there’s a vulnerability he couldn’t hide behind even the toughest of masks that reveals he isn’t being honest.

“The way you watched for her car said enough.” It makes Steve feel exposed, having a total stranger see right through him, but Billy explains himself. “When my momma went out looking for this place, I was sure I’d never see her again.”

“Why did you guys move here?” If he was going to psychoanalyze Steve, he felt it was only fair to ask Billy a pressing question back.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me.” He deflects it back onto Steve in a way that might’ve seemed cocky, but it's obvious he’s just trying to avoid the question.

Steve won’t let him win this one though, maybe just to save his own ego, or pretend like he hadn’t been caught crying by someone he met that morning, or maybe it was just because he had asked first, but he wants Billy to answer, so he tells him, with the slightest hint of a bashful smile playing at his lips, “You first.”

“Stubborn.” He cracks a smile back though, and goes ahead and goes first at the other boys insistence. “My dad’s a real nasty s.o.b. Would get drunk and mean for no good reason, so momma took me and we high-tailed it before he did anything too drastic.”

He didn’t know what he was expecting, why he even felt like it was any of his business, and he doesn’t know what he should say to that.

For lack of a better response, he gives his own little life story summary. “My parents were rich. They didn’t want me, so they have the time of day for me. No matter what I did they punished me for it, grounded me, hit me, sent me to Christian school, until they just got sick of me, I guess.”

“That sounds pretty shitty.” Billy offered.

“Yeah, yours too.”

After a while, Billy, sounding for a moment like he’s a lot wiser than any 14 year old has the right to be, says “What matters is we’re here now.”

Steve feels so touched hearing that. It was so simple a thing for the other boy to say, but coming from Billy after he’d just shared what he did, it means a lot more than just basic condolences.

Hardly anybody had ever been that genuine in anything they said to him. Steve can hardly force a response out of his shocked mouth. As he looks over at Billy’s face, still turned up towards the sky, he sees all that meaning there illuminated by the stars, and he's able to mutter a breathless, “Yeah.” in response.

They both jump when the door flies open, and aunt Margo comes running over to Steve. Frantically she explains that she’d been trying to make sure everything was legal, only to find that some of Steve’s papers were missing, and they had to try to track them all down and get some of them faxed, and it ended up taking way longer than expected.

It feels nice to be understood. Just a few years ago his parents left for what was supposed to be a three day trip to Indianapolis, only they didn’t come back for what was almost two months. Once they were home they didn’t even mention it, just continued going about their business as usual until it was time to leave again. His aunt taking the effort to explain herself was already a vast improvement from that.

He lets her pull him into a big hug, accepts her apology as the air is squeezed out of his lungs, and when he pulls away from her, Billy’s gone.

~~~~~~~

Finish reading on ao3! You can find this posted under the same title by ej_writer or as part of the hwol collection over there! Sorry tumblrs word limits deemed this too long!

#harringrove week of love #billy x steve #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #story by ej!#this is both a neighbors au and a billy lives with his mother au!#and there's no upside down!#you can also maybe probably read this as autistic billy! it wasnt intentional but that happens sometimes #if its a fluffy fic chances are 90% of the time someones going to end up neurodivergent bc my autstic brain can’t help it #disclaimer I think tumble deleted a paragraph or two from this so if it doesn’t make sense just go ahead and find it on ao3 lol #can y'all tell I've never left the midwest and was sorta just guessing what california is like #the closest experience I had to what I wanted the vibes to be like was growing up on my mawmaws property in the country #and thats deffo not even a little bit the same but hey. work with what ya got!#out of all of the prompts I think this'n turned out to be one of my favorites to write #its kind of all over the place but that's okay lol #lord knows I never intended it to be this long either #this is barely edited because i stayed up literally all night to finish this because I procrastinated it too hard haha

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hazymultiverse · 4 years

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after those kid la squadra headcanons i just need to have babies with adult la squadra because their kids will 100% be like them omGGG

Risotto Nero: Risottos child is quiet, shy, and absolutely adores their dad. Ris can calm them down with a single word, no matter how hard they’re crying, just a low hush and hummed lullaby and they’re sleeping like a rock.

He’s a real good dad, but very nervous. He’s probably gonna be scared to hold them at first, until you actually insist, and he ever so carefully holds the little bundle. He cries. It’s probably the one time you’ve ever seen him cry, but tears run down his face as the tiny hand grips his fingers.

The baby has his eyes, and Risotto isn’t sure how to feel, but he’s damn sure he won’t let them feel the loneliness he did for it.

Formaggio: Giggliest baby you’ve ever seen. They find everything hilarious, and Formaggio is absolutely living for the new, attentive audience.

He does his best to be a good dad, though he doesn’t always have the most common sense, so, you might have to step in. You’ve already had to have a talk about his “little baby, big baby” game, and the possible effects repeated stand usage can have on the child. He’s a heart attack to watch, but there haven’t been any major injuries yet, and the kid seems to love being swung and tossed by their dad.

Prosciutto: Stern dad! Serious baby!

He’s probably going to sit and talk the baby like an adult, giving a talk about how inappropriate it was that they started crying at three am. The child just likes his voice, and probably starts chewing on his pendant, derailing the conversation completely. The baby has his glare! And it’s absolutely hilarious on their chubby little face. He never admits how soft he is on the kid, claiming that he refuses to baby them as they grow up, and how they’ll have to fight their way through life, but then in the dead of the night, you can hear him talking to the baby, easing them back to sleep and mumbling about how much he adores them, how he promises to keep them safe.

Pesci: PANIC. The baby is pretty nervous, so is Pesci, but he ends up being a great dad. Naps on dads chest, watching movies together, they’re practically inseparable. The kid probably has him wrapped around their tiny finger before long, he can’t stand to see them cry, because he too, will start crying. The baby ends up being spoiled rotten because of it, but it’s worth it to see them laughing together.

You’re gonna probably get a fish tank for the house, both of them could sit for hours together just to watch., the baby pointing and babbling, and Pesci telling them all about what kind of fish it is.

Illuso: “this makes me a dilf now. It’s official”

“Would you just shut up and enjoy the moment”

Can get a bit frustrated with how much of his life he has to change, how he has to tie his hair back differently lest it be pulled by grabby hands, but no matter what, he’s a dedicated father. Will use his stand for the ultimate games of peekaboo. The entire mirror thing is either going to entertain the child to no end, or scar them for life, there’s no in between.

Speaking of the mirror world, he finds ways to baby proof it, or if they’re fussing in the middle of the night, he’ll carry and sooth them in the mirror so you can go back to sleep. The child is quiet and watchful, but he makes sure to teach them his trademark smug superiority.

Melone: oh, he thought he was ready. He was not ready.

Turns out, actual children?? Very different from Babyface! They have emotions, and can’t talk, and don’t understand what you’re saying. He’s lost.

Once he gets the hang of it though, he does better, and is constantly talking to the baby because of a study he read about. Does your baby need to hear about high level sciences in between bites of applesauce? No. But Melone wants to see what’ll happen if they do. You end up with a child that knows a bunch of random facts that adults might not even know, even if they aren’t sure what it means.

Ghiaccio: Probably holds the baby at arms length at first. No idea what he’s doing and has probably startled them with his sudden volume changes quite a few times, but he’s trying, he really is.

It’s gonna be rough at first just because he runs cold, so the baby is less likely to cuddle up to him. When you finally manage to find the right way of swaddling them up for Ghia to really hold them, he refuses to give them back for over an hour. Overall, he’s a loud, confident dad and your child will never lack emotional support from him. No one hurts his baby.

Sorbet and Gelato: they’re... shockingly good fathers, but the kid is weird. Like, real weird. Probably has a bug collection, or possibly collects bones. Barely laughs, but when they do, it’s really loud. They’re either going to have Gelatos mischief or Sorbets stone cold temper, and honestly either one is equally bad. If you haven’t been deemed one of their favorite people you’re going to have the absolute worst time. If you are one of the chosen, however, they won’t leave you alone. Expect this baby to gift you all sorts of presents, soggy Cheetos that have been crushed in their tiny hand, a cool rock, a living animal that you have no idea how they caught it.

#la squadra

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industriallyinsecure · 3 years

Text

Chapter title music :)

Sorry for the Hey Neighbor spam, I just like dissecting my own work because it’s comforting to me lol. I’m not clever so I use the music I listen to to title each chapter! Generally it has the mood I try to go for while writing it so here’s some quick links to each song! Also (most of) the songs correspond to the chapter’s LS member ;) Below are links to the songs (along with a description of why I chose it)

Chapter 1: Heard Somebody Cry

“Antennae like an insect to pick up all your thoughts” alludes to Formaggio peeping on the reader (mentioned at the end of the chapter)

“It isn’t true, I am not the ghost without a soul. Come, listen to my heart, you feel the beat? Stop! Listen to the sound, of moving feet walk through the halls at night when I’m asleep!”

So the first part makes me think of a pining Risotto pleading with the reader (maybe not this specific one, bc their relationship hasn’t developed)to look past his appearance and love him for who he is, assassin and all. He’s not a monster, he has a soul and a beating heart.

Second half of the verse is the reader’s paranoia, justifying their escape of their own house and the sanctuary in the LS house

Chapter 2: Fool’s Paradise

Sort of self explanatory. Reader doesn’t know they have not one, but three stalkers! And little do they know, but this number is slowly growing!

The bounciness of the song gives me big Formaggio vibes :)

Chapter 3: Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps)

David Bowie is sexy, Prosciutto is sexy so is Kira but that’s another story

Captures the sort of tense theme

Scary Monsters (La Squadra)

Super Creeps (Gianni, but actually just Illuso, Form, and Mel)

Chapter 4: Stay

Two meanings here

1, Gianni/Minestrone asking the reader to stay with him, to take him back and let him fix this mess

2, Illuso (everyone else by proxy) want Reader to stay with them because Gianni obviously doesn’t deserve them

Chapter 5: Tomorrow Never Knows

I think of all the names Araki could’ve given White Album’s ability, Gently Weeps was the shittiest

This song is very chaotic, sort of like how Ghiaccio processes emotions other than anger and pride

The main voice is his rational brain, but the bass, drums, and the various strange noises are him trying to wade through his complex emotions

Chapter 6: Enter Sandman

Self explanatory

Sleepy Ghia, Reader, and Ris

Less of the chapter mood, mostly just there for the name

Risotto probably snuggles up in his bed with his mp3 and sleeps to Metallica tho

Chapter 7: Tender Lover

I LOVE THIS SONG Y’ALL IT HAS BIG MELONE ENERGY AND ITS THE BASE FOR HOW BABYFACE OPERATES

Okay got that out of my system, the song is about how the singer’s relationship didn’t work out with his ‘tender lover’ but assures her that she’ll find someone eventually as long as she doesn’t give up on love

Melone has waded through countless amounts of partners, but he’s never fixated on someone as much as the reader

Their relationship with Gianni didn’t work out, but that doesn’t mean they should give up on love <3 he’ll be waiting for them if they ever need them *kissies*

Chapter 8: Hate to Lose Your Lovin’

We get to see more of the reader come through in this chapter

(Admittedly the reason they hugged Prosciutto was very weak, I think I just wanted them to hug so excuse the poor writing lmao)

Chapter 9: Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy

This chapter was originally just a yandere LS warmup, but I changed the pronouns to be gender neutral and changed the victim to Gianni

I think I was listening to the song and texted my friend something to the nature of “Formaggio beating up someone to this song but he’s enjoying it too much”

Sadly it was mostly Risotto doing the beating up so that idea never came to fruition lol

Chapter 10: Partite?...Crudele!

One of the songs from the opera that reader, Pesci, and Pros attend

Just a nice song from the opera that I enjoyed and decided to use instead of something like “Prelude Act 1”

Chapter 11: G.O.A.T

Ugh, this song has so much angry Risotto energy

There’s also no vocals, which also plays into how he always internalizes his anger and thoughts

Very intense song for a very intense scene

Chapter 12:Buddy Holly

The one chapter I surprisingly had no theme for :/ I just really enjoy this song

I might go back and change this one to tell the truth so don’t be surprised if it’s different

#hey neighbor

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tenthgrove · 3 years

Note

Asking LS... Ghia I'd love to hear about Blanche if you don't mind. I have to get my little kitten Ravioli fixed today and I'm worried I'm gonna lose all her wild attitude once she's healed from the procedure. She's so goofy and bratty, is Blanche anything like that sometimes even in her older age?

Ghiaccio: "Well for a start, you don't really need to worry about that. The only thing that changed with Blanche once we spayed her was that she got into (slightly) less fights. Blanche was incredibly feisty as a young cat, though she never once scratched me. She's a little more calm as an old cat, but still quite energetic for her age."

#ask la squadra #ghiaccio

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shadeedee · 11 months

Text

Another Producers fic! Roger gets a surprise visit, but things aren’t what they seem.

Carmen Ghia flounced across the living room to answer the door after hearing the doorbell ring. A woman stood waiting. “Hello. I’m Marion DeBris. Roger’s mother. May i come in?” she asked. Carmen smiled. “Why yes, yes please,” he replied. When Roger entered the room wearing his dress, Marion’s eyes widened. She had never seen her son like this. And she didn’t expect it. She wasn’t too happy that he was gay. “Mommy! Oh mommy, i’ve missed you so much!” Roger cried, wrapping his arms around her. Marion didn’t recognise him at all. She had lost contact with her son when she found out about his sexuality, and now she was thinking this visit was a big mistake. Roger kissed her on the face. “How have you been? Are you well?” he asked, his eyes sparkling. “Um, yes. Well, i was until i came in here. Is it really true Roger? Are you really gay?” she asked. Roger sighed. “Yes. I’ve been gay for a long time now, mom. I was scared to tell you. But please understand that i’m still your son. I’ll always be your little boy,” he said, smiling. Marion looked at Carmen. “I’m guessing you both are living together,” she said. Roger moved close to Carmen. “Yes. We’re actually a couple,” he replied. Marion felt very uncomfortable. “A, a couple?” she stammered. “Yes. What’s the problem?” Carmen asked, furiously. Marion looked at Roger. “I heard you changed your middle name. You were born Roger Elliott DeBris. Now you prefer to be called Elizabeth?” she asked. “Yes mom. I had it changed once i came out of the closet. Please don’t think of this as sickening. It’s not. I love you and the family, but i love Carmen too. I love men. And i’m attracted to them. I can’t deny that. Carmen is part of my family now,” Roger said. “I’m sorry Roger, but i just cannot accept this. Not my own son. I can’t handle this. This isn’t how i raised you. I don’t know how it happened,” Marion replied. Roger’s eyes watered. “Please. I miss you. I need my mother. I haven’t seen you in years. I’m still your son no matter what sexuality i am. I love you,” he whimpered. Marion shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s just not how things are meant to be. Goodbye, Roger,” she said. “You mean that’s it? You’re disowning me?” Roger asked, starting to cry. Marion said nothing, and walked to the door. Roger went after her, grabbing her arm. “Mommy! Please! Don’t leave me! I promise i’m still your little boy. I’ll do anything for you. Please stay please don’t leave,” he begged. Carmen felt terrible for Roger. “You haven’t even met my production team. Please stay. They really want to meet you,” Roger begged. “Let go of me. Don’t let those men anywhere near me. They’re sick. They’re just like you and that boyfriend of yours. That house is full of them. I’m leaving,” Marion said, and she stopped on the sidewalk preparing to get into a car. Roger collapsed on his knees, weeping. He pointed at her as he cried out. “If you really loved me you would accept me for who i am! You don’t care about me! You don’t love your son! How dare you! How dare you disown your own child! Come back here! Now! Meet my production team! Guys! Come say hello to my dear mother!” he screamed, making a scene in front of the whole street. “For god sake,” Marion said, embarrassed. This wasn’t her son. It wasn’t the same son she had raised. Not anymore. She got into the car, telling the driver to go and quick. By the time production team got downstairs, she had gone. They looked around confused. “Who did you say we had to meet?” asked Scott, flamboyantly. Roger was a bubbling mess on the sidewalk, watching the car drive away. Carmen shook his head, sadly.

During the night, Carmen heard a noise in the kitchen. He got up to investigate. Roger was in there, dressed in a pink apron and baking something. He giggled, manically. Carmen was concerned. Roger seemed to be losing his mind. He began piping icing on a cake rather hard, causing some of it to splatter on the walls. “Roger? What are you doing up so late? Come to bed,” Carmen said. “It’s my mother’s birthday tomorrow, so i’m baking her a very special treat!” Roger replied, in a manic squeal. “Roger, your chefs can do that for you. Come on. Let’s go to bed,” Carmen said, worried. Roger chuckled. “They say a way to a mother’s heart is through her stomach. I’m going to make her love me. This cake is full of love. She won’t stay mad at me for long once she tastes this cake. I’m going to throw her a big party!” he said, giggling. Carmen felt bad for Roger. He was trying to win his mother’s love so badly. He watched as Roger piped more icing on the cake and placed fruit on the top. “Tuity fruity!” Roger sang, laughing. He smiled at Carmen. “Let me finish this cake and i’ll come to bed, darling,” he replied. The next day, Marion made it clear that Roger wasn’t invited on her special day. But Roger had other ideas, of course. During the party, he burst through the door, holding the cake he had baked. “Happy birthday, mommy!” he exclaimed. Everyone was silent. “Wait a minute, this was your idea? You threw this party?” Marion asked. Roger chuckled. “Yes. And there’s another little surprise, too. Everyone at this party is gay. And you’re going to party with them!” he said. Marion was horrified. The production team swarmed like bees around her. She ran to the door, attempting to escape. Roger had dead bolted it. “I’m afraid escape is impossible, mother,” he said, changing his demeanour. “Why are you doing this!?” she cried. “Mother, i need you to realise that us gay guys, we aren’t a threat. We’re sassy, we’re classy, and we love to have fun,” Roger said, smiling. The production team chuckled, flamboyantly. Marion was terrified. There was nowhere to go. Roger clicked his fingers, and the lights went down. A spotlight shone on him. Scott giggled and began playing the piano while the rest of the team sat around Marion, smiling at her creepily. They performed keep it gay song while Roger danced around on the staircase. Towards the end of the song, Scott belted out a very long piano note which was so incredible even Roger’s eyes were widened. “Thank you, Scott. Very well done,” he said. “My pleasure Mr DeBris,” he said, giggling. Roger clapped his hands, happily. Marion was so worn out by now that she was in no mood for a party. “Happy birthday, mommy. Enjoy your cake,” Roger said, sweetly. Suddenly, Leo Bloom and Max Bialystock burst into the house. The production team gasped. “Oh! We’re being invaded!” Scott cried. “We’ve come to rescue Marion from all you psychos! Quick Marion! Run for it!” Max called. Roger burst out laughing. “You really think you can outwit me? Not a chance! As you can see, my mother is much too tired to escape. She prefers to stay here where i can see her. You’re too late,” he said. Marion had fainted from all that was going on. “Oh my god! What have you done to her?” Leo asked. Roger chuckled, then inhaled the air. “Mmmm. I smell that cologne on you again, Leo. No wait, it’s just the air freshener,” he said, sighing with pleasure. Carmen giggled. Max gently began to remove Marion from the house. “And where do you think you’re going?” Roger asked, coolly. Max quickly stopped in his tracks. “Nobody is going anywhere. This party is just getting started,” Roger said. “You’re holding us hostage!” Leo cried. “Yes i am. I’ve had enough. I run this place, i run this house, and soon i’ll run the entire show biz in this town. And if anyone wants to fight me on that, they can kiss my Chrysler building dressed ass!” Roger exclaimed. Carmen chuckled and jumped around with glee.

The hostages in the house sat there, silently. Roger sat on his lavish sofa, eating the cake. “Mmmmm. Chocolate buttercream. My favourite,” he gushed. He lay back on the sofa, exposing everything under his dress. Leo covered his eyes. “Oh Jesus,” Max said, looking away. Carmen sighed with pleasure at the sight of his underwear underneath. Roger smiled in response. “Darling, once i get you in bed this underwear is coming off,” he said. Both Leo and Max were disgusted. “Oooohh oh gosh,” Carmen said, looking as if he was about to collapse from pleasure. “You’re sick. All of you,” Marion said, angrily. Carmen whimpered with pleasure. “I can’t wait for the bed. Please let me get on that sofa with you,” he begged. Roger smiled, and motioned for him to come over to him with his fingers. Leo, Max and Marion looked away the whole time. Carmen snuggled between Roger, caressing him and rubbing his hands up underneath his dress. Roger moaned with pleasure, chuckling. “Ohhhh goodness me. Ohhh yum yum,” he gushed, lifting a blanket over himself and Carmen. All they could hear was giggling and moving around. “Ugh. I’m outta here. Come on. Now’s our chance,” Max said, leading them both out of the house. “Mr DeBris! They’re escaping!” Scott cried. Roger held up his hand as if to tell him to be quiet. “I’m a little busy at the moment. Just let them go. I’m enjoying this,” he said, giggling.

#the producers #fanfic

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