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tenthgrove · 3 years

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L'inizio- A La Squadra Backstory Collection

Chapter 3: Due Cuori (Sorbet & Gelato Part 1)

Word Count: ~3800

Warnings: parental abandonment, homelessness, mildly-suggestive behaviour

The young boy sobs into the bag he’s carrying as he flees down the dark, damp street. The quick-paced footsteps of his pursuer sound loudly as they smack against the wet concrete. The boy prays for some rain to cover the sounds of his panting and running, but he knows such luck will not be afforded to him.

He is out of his depth in this part of Naples. Not yet 14, he’s one of many such young fools who thought it would be easy to snatch a little money from one of the smaller street gangs that roam this part of the town, making the crucial mistake of thinking ‘smaller’ was synonymous with less relentless. The boy has barely a moment to comprehend the dead end ahead of him before he is knocked sharply around the back of his head and sent reeling to the floor.

“Where the hell is my money, you shit?!” the angered man interrogates him sharply. He rears a clenched fist ready to strike him again, and the boy cowers against the wall.

“It’s there! Right there!” he shrieks desperately, pointing at the back dropped at his side. The man spits. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gun. “I swear Signor! The money’s there!” the boy pleads, his voice hitching in mortal terror. The man scoffs venomously.

“Yeah, I heard.”

Two shots ring out, but they aren’t aimed at the boy. The man’s blood splashes over him as he chokes on it, falling to the ground without a word. The boy counts two wounds on the man’s back.

The figure at the end of the alleyway lowers his gun and begins to approach. He is somewhere on the boundary between boyhood and manhood, perhaps about 18, at a first guess. He is darkly dressed, with hair to match, and he returns his weapon to his pocket with a detached smoothness that suggests great experience with the murderous act. He leans over the boy and picks up his bag, smiling in satisfaction at the wad of cash crudely jammed inside. He zips the bag up and hauls it over his shoulder.

“Grazie,” he thanks him, turning away and beginning his journey back down the alleyway.

He does not walk far before he reaches his destination- a small house in a densely packed row just a street away. He knocks calmly, and the door soon opens.

“Ah, Sorbet,” the responder answers. “I thought I’d heard gunfire.”

“’Evening Gabriele,” he greets him, sorting off some of the money in his hands. “20,000 lire says I can stay the night.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Gabriele agrees with a small chuckle. “Come right in, friend.”

Sorbet removes his jacket and seats himself down on the sofa, shuffling the bag protectively behind his legs. He takes off his own bag as well and pilfers through to find the chewing gum he’s been saving for this evening.

“May I ask how you still haven’t found a place of your own? Surely you must be rolling in it from all that blood money you’ve got lately. Hell,” he remarks, eyeing the money poking out from behind Sorbet’s lap. “You could probably sort yourself out for a couple months on that alone.”

“You can certainly ask,” Sorbet answers apathetically.

“Well?”

Sorbet looks at him contemplatively before deciding he’s in the mood for compliance tonight. He leans back.

“To put it simply I’ve just been out of it too long. ‘Don’t have my birth certificate, ‘don’t have any documents of that sort. I left home at 14 and frankly I’d be shocked if I wasn’t legally dead by now. Well, assuming my mum was ever lucid enough to do the paperwork, that is.”

“You could rent a flat from the gang. They’d hardly say no to you,” Gabriele suggests.

“Not really a fan of that sort of obligation, Gabe,” Sorbet refutes him. “Besides, the quote on quote ‘buildings’ the gang owns get busted by the cops all the time. I hardly wanna deal with that at 1 in the morning.”

“True,” Gabriele snorts. A knock sounds at the door. “Who the fuck at this time of night?” he gripes.

“No idea, but have fun with them,” Sorbet says, getting to his feet. “I’m off to help myself to your shower,” he announces, departing up the stairs. Gabriele answers the door.

“H-Hello,” the newcomer greets. It’s another teenager, with messy blond hair and a sky of freckles. He shivers into his thin jacket, hand red-raw from clutching his heavy bag. “Are you Gabriele?” he asks.

“Who’s asking?” Gabriele says with scrutiny.

“My name is Gelato, sir. You don’t know me, but I know a friend of yours from Florence, well, small village outside of Florence, I’m sure you know which one I mean. I heard from him you wanted to get someone to do errands for you and well, I was wondering if I could do that for you,” the boy offers. There’s a wild look in his desperate green eyes, and Gabriele knows this won’t end quickly for him.

“Kid, that was weeks ago! What the hell took you so long?” he asks.

“It’s not my fault I had to walk here!” Gelato protests. “Look, I got kicked out by my parents, I’m only 17 and if you don’t help me I’ll have nowhere to go!” he pleads.

“That’s rough and all, but the job’s closed. Go find a shelter or something.”

“PLEASE!” Gelato begs. He’s trembling, but there’s a touch of anger in his eyes as he glares at him that makes Gabriele mildly scared to turn him down.

“Look, I have neither the need nor the money for another errand boy right now. But, now I think of it I do know a guy who needs someone to manage a bar for him. Make no mistake, it’s nothing more than a meet-up spot for the gang so don’t expect anything fancy, but I think it has a flat upstairs. Maybe you can ask to move into the place as your pay.”

“A bar? That’s perfect!” Gelato enthuses. “Thank you thank you so much!”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I’m happy for you. Now If I go give the guy a call will you please piss off?” Gabriele entreats him.

“Anything you say sir! Thank you!” Gelato agrees. Gabriele heads for his phone with a sigh.

::::::::::::

An hour later, Gelato finds himself in the staff-only section of what was once a fully functioning bar.

“Look kid, it’s not hard stuff,” his guide tells him. “Just keep ‘em drunk enough they can’t kill each other and ring me up if you hear any talk the boss ought to here,” he explains.

“Yes sir, I will,” Gelato answers dutifully. The man opens a rickety door leading to a thin, steep staircase. Gelato follows him up.

“And, this is the flat you were so eager about,” the man announces, looking over the dark, dust-filled space of the bare-bones apartment. There’s a frightful stain on the sofa, and one of the kitchen cabinet doors is hanging on one hinge. “Consider yourself lucky I’m letting you have it when I could be giving it to someone who pays. Don’t expect a penny more from me, this is your full payment,” he continues.

“But how will I eat?” Gelato protests.

“I guess you better hope they tip you good,” the man answers apathetically. “Look, if you do a good job and don’t piss me off, maybe I can spare a few thousand lire a night later on, but until then, you’re getting no more help from me,” he maintains. “Maybe you should learn to pickpocket. ‘Useful skill to have around here.”

Gelato growls inwardly. Of course he knows how to pickpocket! Well- how to pickpocket 13 year olds outside a school gate. Grown men might be a different matter, but he’ll figure it out. Getting caught can’t be much worse than what happened when his parents found out.

“Alright. Thanks,” Gelato forces himself to say. The man gives a satisfied nod and exits.

“Make sure you know where everything is before you open at 9,” he says.

Gelato seeks out the bedroom and lies down, not caring how musty the frayed sheets smell. He grabs the pillow and hugs it close to him like a stuffed toy. It occurs to him that he’s scared.

::::::::::::

It takes him a month to accept his parents aren’t taking him back, two to stop fucking up every day of his life and three to feel some sense of normalcy in his new life at the bar. That’s not to say he’s happy, by any means, simply that he holds onto his current existence with a vice-grip, for fear that things could only get worse if he shook the boat too much.

He sleeps until noon, usually, leaves the house as soon as he’s awake enough to do so and just walks. Anywhere. Sometimes he tries to pickpocket but ever since that beating he earned from a poorly chosen victim, he saves it for his most desperate days. After lunch, if he has any, he sometimes goes to the library. He was never much of a scholar and rarely reads, but he finds the place more pleasant to dissociate in than his apartment.

Should he feel like treating himself, he occasionally visits the arcade when he has the change to spare. After it became clear letting him waste away was not in the landlord’s best interests if he wanted his bar to stay running, he began to help a little with food costs but nowhere near enough for such frivolous outings to be frequently affordable.

Around 3pm, Gelato goes home and sleeps until his hunger forces him to get up and eat. He likes to make a start early on setting up the bar, and cleaning it from the messes of its previous nights patrons, so he tries to begin by 7. It opens at 9 and closes at 2, after which Gelato will shower, and spend a short stretch of time watching the old, boxy TV he pulled out of the attic in bed, before sleeping.

As he exits the cellar, he receives a few apathetic glances from some of the patrons but ultimately nothing much. His eyes are on the far corner of the bar where, to perhaps less of his concern than it should be, two men are engaged in a heated argument. It’s a sight he’s well used to now, but he keeps a keen watch on the men, since the landlord insisted he de-escalate anything that looks like it may prove fatal.

“I don’t care what your excuses are! We had a deal and you’re going to fucking pay me!” The first man shouts. He is one of the younger ones, probably little older than Gelato but with an air of authority more akin to some of the older individuals in the mob. He has heard whispers about this man- his name is Sorbet and he is an enforcer. The mobsters are cautious about the word ‘assassin’, it makes them sound like a more ambitious group than they truly are, one that could be deemed a threat by the larger syndicates that truly control this city. Yet, Gelato reads between the lines when they talk about the things Sorbet has done. As Gelato approaches Sorbet’s eyes flick towards him momentarily. Gelato shies away from the eye contact and feels an odd feeling inside him. Seeing Sorbet always makes him feel odd. He doesn’t dare speak to him directly.

“Whatever. It ain’t on me if you misread what we were talking about. You did me a favour, nothing more,” the second man retorts. He’s another regular, as familiar to Gelato, if not more, than Sorbet is, even if he doesn’t know him by name. He is a cruel man, impatient and aggressive whenever he visits. Gelato always tremors a little when he comes through the door.

Still, he scares him less than Sorbet.

Gelato forces a smile as he approaches the second man.

“Pardon me, could I get you any more-” he inhales sharply as the half-full bottle of wine is chucked over him.

“Yes, one more of these,” the man orders coldly. Gelato wipes his eyes.

“Right away,” he nods, turning back towards the cellar and fighting every fibre of his being telling him not to let this slide.

Gelato descends into the cellar, shaking from the cold of his wet clothes and anger. As he pulls a new bottle off the shelf he wonders briefly if he ought to piss in it, but decides the best result that could come of that is having it thrown over him again. He pats down his shirt and takes the bottle back up to the bar.

He knows what has happened before the door is even open. The sound of shouting is familiar to him, and if the past few minutes is anything to go by, it’s Sorbet and that petulant man’s feud which has turned violent. Opening the door proves his theory, as a small crowd has formed around Sorbet and his opponent as they engage in a relentless match of fists.

Gelato debates to himself. He could put down the bottle and run, he could try and calm the men down and risk one or both of them turning their anger on him, or he could use this opportunity to finally get back at that bastard’s disrespect. Gelato’s never been much of a thinking sort. His mind doesn’t take long to settle on the third option. He rears the bottle above his head and charges.

There’s a collective gasp of shock as Gelato suddenly crashes into the man, smashing the bottle over the back of his skull with full strength. It shatters, and the man falls to the floor with a groan. Gelato looks up at Sorbet, briefly fearing his interference may have provoked anger but, Sorbet only smiles.

Gelato rushes to his feet just in time to join his new ally in kicking the man, again and again until he starts to spit blood. Gelato picks up the remains of the bottle’s base and pours out the remaining liquid onto his enemy’s face in one, final insult. The crowd cheers. Evidently this man was not so popular with the gang after all.

Gelato sits down, whoozy from exhaustion and adrenaline. He finds himself laughing. He cannot recall the last time he’s done that. Sorbet leans down and pulls a stack of cash from the unconscious man’s pocket.

“Lying bastard,” he scoffs. “He did have the money. Probably a lot more than I asked for, but I can hardly complain about that.” Sorbet turns to Gelato with a look of deliberation. He pulls out one of the 50,000 lire bills and hands it to him with a smile.

“For your trouble,” he declares. He withdraws his hand with a slow deliberateness, their fingertips touching for just the briefest of seconds. The odd feeling Gelato has felt since laying eyes on Sorbet returns with a vengeance, and yet, Gelato can feel nothing but awe as it begins to eat his heart.

Oh dear. Gelato might have a crush.

::::::::::::

It is three days later to the hour, that Gelato finds himself hauled into the cellar and pinned against the wall, mouth agape in shock as Sorbet digs his fingers into his neck. It occurs to Gelato he might have gone about this the wrong way.

“Alright, spit it out,” Sorbet demands. “What the hell was that up there?”

“Pardon?” Gelato pleads fearfully.

“Did you think I would let you get away with mocking me like that?” Sorbet asks through gritted teeth. Gelato’s mind turns to the myriad of weapons no doubt hidden in Sorbet’s clothes. That thought shouldn’t endear him as much as it does.

“Mocking?”

“Oh? Is there another explanation for why you would behave like that around me? Humiliate me in front of half my gang? Well?!” Sorbet entreats him. His grip around his neck tightens

“Flirting! It was flirting!” Gelato confesses desperately. Sorbet’s grip lessens.

“What?”

“Look. I think I like guys, you like guys or at least everyone says you do. And- I think I might like you a lot so- I wanted your attention. I wanted to talk to you again,” Gelato admits sheepishly. His cheeks start to burn, and it isn’t from the lack of oxygen any more.

Sorbet looks like something in his brain must have just blown a fuse. Perhaps Gelato should take this opportunity to run, since this half-assed attempt at seduction is clearly a resounding failure.

But then Sorbet starts to laugh. It’s a low, quiet laugh but nonetheless genuine as he fixes his eyes warmly on the floor.

“Oh you dear thing. That isnot how this works,” he says. Gelato breathes out in relief, as well as a little disappointment.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. This was stupid I should- probably just go back to my work,” he apologises. His body goes still as Sorbet touches a hand to his cheek.

“Though if you ever want my attention again,” he leans in and presses his lips lightly against Gelato’s. “You should just ask.”

Sorbet lets out a little hum of amusement at the sight of Gelato’s shock. He caresses his face once more, touching his finger to a little curl of hair as he does so, before finally freeing Gelato from his hold.

“See you later,” he promises, before leaving him alone in the cellar. Above him, Gelato hears Sorbet walk out in the direction of the front door. Gelato collects himself, and calmly wanders over to the sink, waiting patiently for it to fill with water.

He sticks his head in and screams.

::::::::::::

Sorbet visits the bar twice weekly, no different from before. But he starts visiting Gelato more often. Barely a week from their first kiss, they are in bed together, Gelato clinging onto his new love tightly as he reads. This touch is alien to him and in spite of his joy, he cannot help but quiver as Sorbet pets his hair. He wonders how he ever lived his life without knowing joy this strong.

Their second week is easier. They both start to become accustomed to this newfound love and no longer think of each other as strangers. Gelato knows Sorbet’s full name now, he knows which street he grew up on and the names and ages of each of his siblings. Sorbet knows what Gelato’s parents did for a living. He knows the name of the boy he had his first real fight with, and the therapist who tried and failed to relieve him of the ‘learning disabilities’ that made his parents despise him so deeply. Sorbet tries to at least drop in on most days, but when he can’t, he calls Gelato to tell him where he’s staying for the night. Gelato thinks of him as he falls asleep, hugging his pillow close.

By week three, the pair have found a new normal together. Sorbet sleeps over more often than not, and the bar patrons now know full well not to cause Gelato trouble when Sorbet is in the building. Sorbet has made every aspect of Gelato’s life more enjoyable, and he can see in Sorbet’s eyes that the feeling goes both ways. Gelato knows why Sorbet left home four years ago, and Sorbet knows how Gelato really wants to get revenge of his parents for abandoning him. On precisely day 19 of their affair, Gelato asked Sorbet if he planned to keep doing this with him forever. Sorbet did not hesitate in saying yes.

It’s a few days later that Sorbet comes to the bar with an especially warm smile on his usually cold face. Gelato thought little of putting down his current orders to rush over and greet him at the door.

“Sorbet, you’re here early!” Gelato enthuses. Sorbet pecks his cheek.

“I thought we might spend a night to ourselves. I think you need it, Caro.”

“But Sorbet, the bar doesn’t close for three more hours yet!” Gelato reminds him.

“Not if I can help it.”

Sorbet raises his gun and fires it twice at the ceiling. The patrons look up in fear. “Alright, everyone out. Bar’s closed,” he announces. The patrons sheepishly get to their feet and file out.

“But, the landlord!” Gelato protests.

“Fuck the landlord. If he has a problem with this, he goes through me,” Sorbet maintains. Gelato’s breath escapes him with a laugh and he follows him upstairs.

“Really, tell me,” Gelato insists light-heartedly. “What’s brought this on?” He turns around and his face falls to see that Sorbet is looking saddened.

“I- saw my siblings today,” he announces.

“Are they… okay?” Gelato asks worriedly.

“Oh, they’re fine. I saw them down at the cafe, they didn’t notice me. Taking a look at the other ones, I’m assuming the older ones are getting better at taking care of them. It makes sense, given the ages they’re getting to. The issue is… there was another baby, this time, who wasn’t there before,” Sorbet reveals. “Probably just a month or so old, from the looks of her.”

“Sorbet…”

“My sister,” Sorbet says, bringing his head into his hands. “And I don’t even know her name!”

“Sorbet,” Gelato says, taking his head in his own hands. “It isn’t your fault the way your mother is. Looking after them isn’t your responsibility.”

“It was,” Sorbet reminds him. “Then I left.”

“Look, I’m sure they’re fine,” Gelato reiterates. “Believe me when I say there are many worse things older siblings can do than just not look after you. Now,” he begins. “How about that night we were going to have together,” he smiles.

“Right,” Sorbet recalls, pecking him on the nose. “It’s you I came to see.”

Sorbet leans forward and kisses him deeply. Gelato, so recently a stranger to the sensation, leans in further to the kiss, pawing teasingly at Sorbet’s chest to urge him on. Sorbet groans to the kiss, hooking a hand around Gelato’s collar. Downstairs, something crashes loudly.

Sorbet pulls back. He sees Gelato’s eyes widen in fear as a parade of footsteps stumble into the building. Sorbet presses a kiss to his cheek reassuringly.

“Stay calm,” he urges him. “Not a sound.”

Sorbet stands up and, watching his feet on the old floorboards, moves over to the window to peer outside.

“Shit!” he exclaims, ducking away out of view.

“What is it?” Gelato whispers.

“The police. Two cars.”

“Are they here for us?” Gelato asks, voice hitching in fear. Sorbet shakes his head quickly.

“Unlikely. They most likely thought the place was empty. If we are quick, we can still leave without them seeing us,” he promises. Gelato shrinks back.

“I’m scared,” he admits. Sorbet takes his hand in his.

“Just stay with me okay? I’ll protect you.”

#la squadra #la squadra di esecuzione #Sorbet and Gelato #sorbet jojo #gelato jojo #l'inizio

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blake-nikos · 4 years

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The longest DnD backstory i have made... so far

so small bit of context this is for a 5e game in a 18th century bloodborne style setting. it was meant to be one shot so i just made lady maria of the astral clock tower as my character, but the dm really likes the setting and how the game went so its becoming a full game, but i really liked how i played lady maria but i wanted something a little more then a dnd version of a bloodborne boss so i wrote this over the last few hours and its now 5:30 am oops The lady maria real name Blair ( insert appropriate lore last name with vanhellsing vibes to it ) class blood hunter level 10 Born into a noble house the daughter of a previous lady maria that died during child birth and a noble man, that was once a charming artist and writer but reduced to a cowardly shell of a man after the death of his first love, even though he has re married he never found his passions for the arts again now only making bland history text books for schools and little else. all through Blair's early life her grandfather on her mothers side would come around every few months bring gifts and tails of his latest monster hunts and the promise of "once your older if you wish it, I'll take you away from this stale noble life" as she grew her grandfather started training her in swordsmanship and fire arms, her farther forbid the training but the grandfather kept coming till one day he had the town guards waiting and threaten to have him killed if he took "his last piece of her away" blair over heard this but didn't understand at the time only being around 9 years old confused as her farther barely could even stand to look at her most days. Her grandfather didn't come for 3 years after that point, till one night blare started getting ravens at her window with short notes and pages taken from swordsmanship manuals page by page every day over time forming more then a few books on different styles of fighting and firearm manufacture and such. she trained every day till her hands were blistered from the bits of wood and furniture she had been using as wooden swords to train with in her bedroom. On the day before her 14th birthday she noticed a hooded figure with a raven in the small woods out her window, she grabbed a small kitchen knife she had stolen and suck out looking for them. it didn't take long till she was deep in the woods only to be startled by a well made wooden sword being thrown to her feet "pick it up and fight for your birthday present little one" the look of joy forced down by one of determination she picked up the sword and took the guard positions she'd been practicing for all this time, swing hard but true to form never faltering a step in her foot work, pushing the old man on to is back foot , not one to show to much mercy and a reflex from years of fighting he pushed hard in to his next swing and disarmed her of her wooden sword just as he dropped his guard about to gloat " guess some ones not getting her..." shes rushes him gets her body under his guard position thrusts her arms right up under his chin and with the stolen kitten knife to his neck "took you long enough old man" drops the knife to her side and hugs him tight enough she may have heard some of is old bones crack. and starts to cry into his chest. "okay alright little one, you won the fight now need to crush me now" as he hugs her back for a moment. "i know its been a while " only to hear " too long " as she kicks him in the shin "if you hit me again no present " She pules back to look at him to notice a few more scars on his face then last time she spoke to him. he stands up straight and calls out “ lady maria please come meet my grand daughter” As a hooded woman with a raven on her shoulder looking to be in her late 30s steps out from behind a tree. she steps forward and curtsy towards Blair “ its a honor to meet you little miss, i knew your mother well, and she would be very proud of such a skilled young fighter” she says with a smile, a head tilt and a slight tear in her eye “ you most certainly have her eyes and expressions... its like looking at a memory right before me” Blair looks to her before looking down to the dirt “ ive only heard story's from granddad and farther locked all the paintings of mum in the attic i haven't seen them in years” her grandfather after swallowing his anger “ well this just wont do “ and pulls out a locket from his pocket “ i have a portrait of her above the mantel in my family manner, why don't you hold on to this one, till you come see it for your self “ as he hands her the locked with a small picture of her mother inside. she holds it close before placing it around her neck. “but now little one its your birthday tomorrow and that's not your gift this is!” as the lady maria grabs a fabric wrapped sword from behind her “this was hers it needed some repairs after she put it aside when she moved in with your father, but its been cleaned sharped and has a fresh coat of sliver” Blair takes the wrapping off the sword to see a brilliant sliver coated steel scabbed, a saber with a enlarged almost small sword style handle and guard. she clips it to her belt and draws the blade “its heavy... well compared to a chair leg but the balance feels much nicer, this, this is mine now ?” her grandfather smiles “yes little one cant have you training with chair legs forever now can we, plus you will need a real blade when our lady maria hear starts training you in our family's blood magic next week ” Blair now looking rather confused “ blood magic?” the grandfather draws a dagger from his belt and slices the the blade along his palm as the blood runs down the blade it starts to crackle and spark with lightning he throws the blade at a tree and it sparks with a brilliant light and shark cracking sound like a small bolt of lighting, “now little one this is a family secret so don't go talking about magic, can you promise me that and don't let your father find that sword?” she nods her head with gusto “ yes sir ! totally, easy, no problem. and he wont look at me any way so its easy to steal stuff and sneak around ” the day starts to grow long and they say there goodby’s for now 3 years of weakly training some times with grandfather, some times with lady maria, some times with both and some times with a different lady maria she dresses the same and spoke the same formal way for the most part but much younger she explained “lady maria is not my name little one its a title... all the lady maria's are in some way related even you. im actually your cousin my name is Juliet. the older lady maria you met the first night was my aunt and your mothers sister. On her 16th birthday and a few years of Blair being a rebellious young teen and making trouble for the towns guard and her farther getting more and more strict as she aged, Blair promptly set out with trying to ruin her farther reputation especially when the step mother started pressing to “marry her off “ even though the farther was against it the step mother started making plans for marriage behind his back. Blair being a witty young trouble maker found out about her plans and took it as a challenge and found a new form of combat training in bar fights and sneaking to the next town over and drinking with the army boys in training. till it go to the tipping point a argument with her farther that was promoted by the step mother yelling at him for the better part of the day, when she came home at dusk one evening not looking to worse for ware but about as far lady like as one can get, her father going straight in to yelling “whats wrong with you!? why must you fight against the best life you’ll ever get? how ungrateful are you ! “ the step mother butting in “ your mother would be ashamed you” with out hesitation from across the room Blair pulls a knife cuts her palm and utters a Blood Curse of Bloated Agony on the step mother and drops the step mother to her knees in pain “ you know nothing about her you good for nothing noble piece of trash” “ and dad i don’t know if you hate me... or blame me for killing mum by being borne, but you never loved me you never gave me what i needed!, and you took away the only person that could! you stopped granddad from coming you took the one person that loved me! you left me with nothing what did you expect!? her farther now yelling at Blair to stop this “fine if you want to be with him so badly then leave but if you do your title stays behind your money you’ll will be nothing more then a common present!” “OH but father i have a title you could never take I’m the lady maria” as she drops the curse go’s to her room packs a travel bag grabs her mothers sword and walks right by her father who is trying to calm the step mother now screaming for a doctor and calling Blair a witch, on the way out Blair with sword worn proud on her side, she hesitates for a moment in the door way with her back to her farther, and can hear him over the sound of the now rageing woman next to him “what have i done Ive lost her again... i’m sorry i’m so sorry” blair pretends not to hear him and walks away in to the night. after another year of training now at the grandfathers manor and returning the locket, she started going on monster hunts and when the war came true and proper she fought right besides the young army boys from time to time as a mercenary and protected them from the monsters by night, even earning some honorary militarily ranks. now a few years after the war shes now 31 and has been a proper lady maria for a good while fighting monsters and making stories of her own.

#dnd backstory

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prorevenge · 5 years

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Kicked out of the family

So this is something I've witnessed and heard about. My family were the ones that got revenge.

So for some backstory, the people include my Nonna (grandmother in Italian), and her three kids. The kids are my Mum, my Zia (Aunty in Italian), and my Uncle. My Uncle has a girlfriend, which we'll call S. And my Zia is married and has 2 kids, my Uncle has 3 kids, and my Mum is married and has me and my sister. S has 3 kids of her own. The story also kind of involves my Nonno (Grandfather in Italian), but he passes away at a particular point of the story. In real time, he passed roughly two weeks ago now, so this is recent.

So, it is 2 years ago in 2017, and it's my cousin's Confirmation (Catholic tradition of confirming their faith in Christ). This cousin is my Zia's oldest child. We're all sitting in the mass, and I'm sitting away from my parents at the time. S is talking to my Mum, and mentions how she doesn't like one of my Uncle's children (the oldest), we'll name him J. My Mum is shocked, but doesn't tell anyone about it, as at the after party of the Confirmation, she goes into the car with a migraine, to keep away from the noise. S then talks to my Dad, and says how she doesn't like this particular cousin, which is J. My Dad is surprised, and leaves it.

After the Communion, when my Mum is feeling better, she talks to Dad and explains how unbelievable it is that S said that. My Dad replies and says that he thought he was the only one she told. This is when my parents decided they didn't like S very much. They decide to call up my Uncle and let her know what she said. He said he'd ask S about it.

He texts back a response, calling my parents liars, and saying "how dare you say that about my girlfriend" and "you are disgusting for making up lies". This got my paren†s furious, and they tried to explain that it is true and so on. S also text my parents, calling them liars and a bunch of insults.

This was the beginning of the family breaking apart.

My Mum is very close with my Zia, and they talked about it. My Zia didn't want to choose sides, but she didn't really like S either.

My Uncle decided he wanted a "round table" with my parents, himself, and S to discuss the trouble. My Dad was all like "Stuff that! He'll just yell at us some more!", so they said no. They also discovered S was manipulating my Uncle to do everything she says. When my Dad once asked for a normal catchup, my Uncle responded with "I'll have to check with S first." and he revolved everything around her. He even skipped my youngest cousin's birthday to go to S's great Uncle's or someone's birthday he's never met. He didn't even schedule another time to see her, or didn't even get her a present, or with her a happy birthday. She turned 9 at the time.

A year passes, it's 2018, and I hadn't seen S, my Uncle, or their kids since. I missed seeing my cousins (my Uncle's kids. I'd never consider S's kids to be my cousins. They're not very nice either), and I wanted to see them again. It's now my other cousin's Communion (Communion is receiving bread and wine in the Catholic Church for the first time. This is my Zia's other kid, and she's the youngest), and my younger sister has decided she's had enough of their arguing and never seeing part of her family. She organises Mum and my Uncle to meet outside and talk, at the after party. They talk, and my Uncle still doesn't believe her. My Mum is crying and trying to say "Why don't you believe me? Why would you choose your girlfriend over your family that has been there for you for years?" and my Uncle still wanted none of it. Unfortunately, from the crying, my Mum got another bad migraine, so she went in the car. After an hour rest, she felt better, and got out to socialise again. My mum told my Zia what happened, and the hatred for S increased. So on the way home, my Dad and my Mum were yelling about how S is the worst person ever, and how they wanted to boot her out of the family.

My family still cut off seeing My Uncle and S. My Zia and her family couldn't see them as often either. My Nonno was in the nursing home, and unwell. My Uncle never bothered showing up, except for maybe a couple of times that year. My Nonna was very angry at my Uncle, as he never made an effort to see the family.

This is where her actions turn disgusting.

Another year passes, it's now 2019, and my Uncle and S got engaged 2 weeks before my Nonno passed away. We were all invited to their engagement party, but they both live about 2 or so hours away from my home. My family didn't want to go, cause we didn't want S to be apart of the family. My Zia, and her 2 kids went, out of feeling bad. My Nonna didn't want to go, as she didn't want to see S, as she didn't like her. My Nonno was still in the nursing home, and just got transferred to the hospital that day, so my Nonna couldn't even go to the engagement party anyway, as she was helping take care of Nonno. My Nonno also got diagnosed with pneumonia and had cancer in his bones, so he was reeeeaaaally unwell.

2 weeks ago from now, my Nonno passes away. Everyone is devastated, as he passed in the most painful and awful way possible. He passed on a Sunday night, at about 6pm, and he passed half an hour after my sister, Mum and I left the hospital. While at the hospital when he was still alive that day, when my Mum, sister, Zia and I go the nursing home to pack up Nonno's things, and then pickup lunch, S organised something stupid. She asked a nurse to shave his face, to make him feel "more comfortable". At this point, he couldn't move, and had 0 strength. He couldn't even keep his eyes open, and his mouth was open wide, as he couldn't breathe. He had unnecessary cuts on his face and he was curled into what seemed like a ball, as he was already in so much pain. My Mum only glared at her, and that's it.

When my Nonno passed, my Nonna was really upset, as was all of us. She got super depressed and wasn't physically or mentally able to prepare the funeral. We planned it 4 days after the passing, meaning we needed to hurry, as that was the only closest time we could do. I took a week off from school, to help prepare. I was also at my Nonna's house, helping too. My Mum, my Zia and my Uncle wrote the eulogy in 12 hours, with input from myself, my sister and my youngest cousin who was there at the time. 12 hours was a long time to write a eulogy, and everyone was exhausted, as we left at 10:30pm from my Nonna's house. While the adults wrote the eulogy, I took my Nonna aside to find photos she'd like in the funeral, as I could put them in the funeral to make a powerpoint. I took heaps of photos, retouched and cropped each one. There were 67 photos. I also wrote prayers, downloaded music for the funeral and read at the funeral. There was so much preparation for everyone involved, and it felt overwhelming for everyone at times.

At the gathering after the funeral at my Nonna's house, S goes off to my Uncle in private about why she wasn't included in the eulogy, and how she helped out oh so much. S did nothing to help, and she's only been around for 2 years, so who cares if she wasn't included. My Dad and my Zia's husband were included, cause they've been there for Nonno around 15 years, and my Mum, Zia and Uncle were mentioned, cause they're his kids. And all the grandchildren got mentioned, cause we're the real family. After my Dad, Mum, sister and I go home, my Uncle yelled and screamed at my Nonna and Zia, for not having S in the eulogy. He yelled like a madman, and the neighbours had to call the house to see if everyone is safe.

After the gathering, my Mum got a message from my Zia saying S went off at her about not having her name in the eulogy. Everyone got pissed.

My Zia and Nonna came over a few days ago, my Mum showed messages S sent her, and my Zia showed messages S sent her too. She said things along the lines of "It's not fair that I wasn't included. I've done so much, and been there so much. You didn't even include my kids, how dare you. I am (Uncle's name's) fiancee, and I am a part of his life." My Nonna was very angry, and my Zia replied to her saying "This was Nonno's funeral, not yours. How dare you make this funeral about you, you selfish woman. We worked hard to make it about him, not you. None of this has to do with you. None of us like you, because all you do is lie and manipulate (my Uncle) all the time. You are the most selfish woman to walk this earth, and you did not help out at the funeral a single bit. My husband and my sister's husband have actually been there for 15+ years, and you've barely been around. All you do is talk about yourself, and I've had it. Enjoy your life away from us, because none of the family want you around every again. We're disowning (my Uncle) too, because he believes you over his real family who haven't controlled his life as much as you. He's a fool, and when he divorces or breaks up with you, and comes running back, we're not accepting him anymore. Because he's already chosen his new family; a bunch of liars. Get the f away from the family. Enjoy your life."

My Nonna, who is very nice, quiet and sweet, then said to my Uncle, "Get S out of the family. Go away. I never want to see you, or that cow again. I created you, so don't treat me like crap. Never disrespect my family."

Best revenge ever, cause S has shut up and stopped whining, and I haven't heard a thing from them since, or seen them. I no longer want to see them again. I forgot to mention she also went off behind my back about me not including photos of her on the slideshow I worked so hard on, and I started yelling curses to her, saying "That cow wants to make the funeral all about her petty ass." She's nasty. My Uncle also went off about me too. I hope their marriage turns to shit.

(source) story by (/u/UnusualCatto)

#prorevenge #by /u/UnusualCatto #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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aos3-adam-weishaupt-blog · 7 years

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the plan and the reason Sorry for the round robin approach to this, but I need to say largely the same thing to a number of people at once, and this is the only sensible answer- a mass message- forgive me. It’s also of necessity a bit long- because the idea needs a bit of teasing out in order to be sure it make sense- Some of you will be receiving this because you were among the 400, where collective imagination and Will were demonstrated so clearly, it has become impossible for me to ignore. Some of you will be receiving this because I know you already, and have guessed you are the sort of person who is going to be interested in a ‘Great Caper’, a foolhardy and playful experiment with Ideas. The only qualification for this really is to want to be a part of it, so this is anticipated merely to be the first stage of the recruitment drive, and much like Discordianism or The Church of the Sub-genius, it will be vital that we recruit as many as will play. But no passengers, and nobody who is being forced to be part of it. That would be a waste of energy. I am hoping to start a ball rolling on a new Mythology, and that others will also pick up the bare bones and help us all add flesh to them. Tiny backstory for me: I am the singer and writer in a confused Punky Reggae band called AOS3- for 28 years in a very eventful anti-career- and I’m also an animator and film-maker, storyteller- general creative shenanigans 24/7. I want to collaborate far more widely- and I’d like to help other people collaborate and find ‘the missing pieces’ where possible too. Since the Liverpool EVENT I have been creatively exploding, and I need to create a bigger place for all the new ideas. This message is sent to you specifically because something is telling me you are the kind of person who may be up for collaborating on Musical, Filmic, Theatrical or other types of Art, if we dare call it that. The Happening excites me most of all. I feel ready for change, and I’m hoping to be part of a collective effort. Let’s co-create Myth. I am not sure yet which Myth. We have to do that together. It’s a work in progress- but I have got starting points for ideas. Let’s start a ball rolling, and the greater part will happen when people bring their own ideas and Art to the table. Imagine a network, of Cells of artistic projects, all different, but drawing out a linked central Myth, or reflected imagery. A Hydra- like organisation that does not court public awareness. Things have, as usual, been suggesting themselves. Saturn is the first place I arrived when thinking of a Myth. Why? Because it is Epic of scale, and yet also Local to our cosmic neighbourhood. In terms of our cosmic locality, Saturn is the most iconic of all Planets. Because of space probe Cassini we now have a real good idea of what makes up the Rings, and the nature of dozens of small and large Moons- 62 so far at the last count, but bound to rise further- Some are weird, Chaotic Moons unlike any others in our solar system- Titan is the largest and has the Solar Systems best chance of Life so far. Other Moons are weirder still, Trojan moons themselves orbiting another larger Moon. Most of these Moons have Mythical names themselves, which makes their own names part of vast stories already. And finally, because by choosing these Moons as part of the “pattern’ of the Caper, we are also subtly educating Entities to the true scale of their neighbourhood, the solar system, and continuing to shoot for the stars. So, in brief, my idea SO FAR is to use the names and attributes of the Moons of Saturn as the many heads of a Hydra like creature, an artistic Caper and a collaborative venture in which I only seek to light the blue touch paper, and then stand back, hoping for a bang of Cosmic Proportions. It is neither necessary OR DESIRABLE that audiences draw lines of connection between strands in this collaborative conspiracy of creation- it will have a far greater effect if it is observed rather than explained. Absolutely key to this is the absence of explanations. This is the most there should ever be, then Mum must be the Word. We can communicate privately, but not publicly about this ‘web’. If you want to engage, I guess the first step will be to welcome you on the first shipment of settlers to the new outpost on Titan- The first 230 settlers will depart imminently on the Starship Prometheus, and when they arrive in approximately 6 years time they will begin settling the First City Novus Troilus, already built and waiting us. The flight will be long and arduous, and we may encounter Mythical struggles along the way, but we WILL arrive on Titan, and find a blank slate and all of the Cosmos waiting for us. What you do then, well, that will be up to your own will. If you are willing to join Prometheus, you will be sent a Flight Pass, and further instructions- you will be shown Classified Images and gain inside insight. You must inform the Captain of suitable skills and tasks you’d be willing to undertake or offer. This has to be 100% collaborative, so only offer what you’d be happy to do- and don’t expect immediate reward- but be brave in deciding what you can offer. There will be an initial seeding of images, information, Crew Logs and Flight Logo’s, etc- that people can weave into their own work and projects- Once we have a few people on the flight roster, and a few more hands on the Work. If you don’t want to come to Saturn, or on the OFF WORLD adventure, just don’t reply. We ask you keep schtum regardless. BUT!!!! REMEMBER! NEVER EXPLAIN. WE HIDE THIS IN PLAIN SIGHT. If people are forced to spend a little moment of their thinking life attempting to WORK IT OUT rather than ‘listening to the artist/ expert’, they then own the information- it was THEIR OWN THOUGHT. That is worth infinitely more than them UNDERSTANDING YOUR THOUGHT. Also, Ideas created in this way are inherently mythic. It is also integral to this plan that it is not concerned with financial reward or any level of ‘success’- it should be a plan in and of itself, for the mutual benefit of : ALL HUMANITY- AND ENTITIES YET TO BE DEFINED. THIS is still an ANTI-CAREER. A DELIBERATE AND FOOL-HARDY LABOUR OF LOVE. So, we hope to seed new ideas and artistic collaborations, and also we encourage all our friends to artistically ‘EMPTY THE TABLE DRAWER.’ Most of us I think have things in the table drawer that are so very nearly perfect, but have languished because there is still one thing to do, or one flaw in them- In my case I make much music and art that does not fit into the ‘genre’ I fell into 28 years ago… If we return to the Drawer, determined, we have much, much more we can show to the World- and we can try to create more compassion and wonder in a world which is often frankly terrifying. We can be many things in a single lifetime- Come Off-World Now! Find many new lives waiting amid the Moons of Saturn. It is up to us to build the future. The Myth of the 21st Century so far is horrific and medieval. LETS RECLAIM THE STARS. LETS RECLAIM THE STARS.

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