THIS SIDE OF PARADISE

Julianne Sinclair. Twenty7. Accountant. Perpetual wallflower. Not quite fun to be around. One of many, always in the background.

[aglionby]

[liannesinclair-blog]

bashcastillo‌:

Oh, Lianne. She was still the dreamy girl she had been ten years ago, but he was no longer one to join in on the joy. Instead, Sebastian stood there, eyes rolling, arms crossed over his chest. “No offense, Li, but that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” He squinted out the window, nose scrunched up with distaste. It did look like it would rain any minute, which was inconvenient for him. Rain meant less customers, less customers meant less money. Plus, he’d have to roll up the awning and that was always a pain in the ass. “On second thought - full offense,” but at this second statement, he let a rare and genuine smile lift his lips - barely.

Lianne looked at him with a frown on her face, that looked more like a dropped smile than anything. Brows furrowed and hands now folded across her chest, she stood up. “No, it’s not. Dumb things involve....not liking math, or being mean to dogs on the bus. It’s dumb and rude.” She looked out through the window again, nodding. “With any luck, it’s going to be one rainy night. What can I do to help?” That’s what she was here for, anyway. Despite the constant teasing, there was nowhere else she’d rather be, unless it was with Frankie. 

[liannesinclair-blog]

rdrigofntana‌:

“Let’s hope you’re not a fan of voodoo dolls – now that would be the kicker.” Amusing too if he were honest. Obviously, him not being on the other end of course. Adding more fuel to the fire? Possibly, but his mouth was not known to hold back. For some odd reason he was very familiar with cliches and the words he spoke clearly signified such. “Least your not one of those women who are afraid of their hair going all afro mode at one tiny rain drop. That’s one plus.” He mused, nodding. If he had a nickel for every time he had heard that one, the man would probably be rich by now.  

Lianne straightened in her seat, now having her interest piqued by this man trying to pin an aesthetic on to her. On another occasion, she would have told him off and walked away. But right now, her coffee felt really nice and she was feeling chatty. “What if I am? Afraid I’m going to pull one out and stab it through the heart?” One of her sisters had recently started dabbling into the culture, and while Lianne had yet to hear of that adventure, she didn’t want to dwell on the topic. “Oh, but my hair would definitely...how did you put it? Afro mode, in the rain. All this? It’s just a lot of hot iron and product. I have so many creams in the day, and then in the night. Not to mention oils for the roots and tips.” 

[liannesinclair-blog]

celestiivls‌:

location: Taqueria mi Pueblo or at the Assembly Line Buffet at Motor City Casino + Hotel

            “–Oh, no. No, no, nonono– Munchkin, don’t– !!” With Drina quickly chasing after her, Celestina practically dove out of her own seat towards Alex who had slipped out of his seat to toddle after a waiter who happened to walk by with a dessert topped with sparklers. Unfortunately for her, the second before she had been turned towards his twin sister wiping her face and by the time she noticed her son gone, he was a few tables away. The three year old moved as swiftly as his little legs would carry him, reaching out towards the adult who by now was chuckling at him and looking around for his mother. Luckily, Celes caught the adventurous little one up into her arms the next moment, chuckling as she pressed a kiss to Alex’s forehead. “So, you wanted a big dessert, huh? One with the lights?” Standing from her crouched position, she shot an apologetic glance at the restaurant patrons and mouthed ‘sorry’ as she went along, thoroughly embarrassed but amused. “Three more bites, both of you,” The woman murmured to the both of them, free hand holding Drina’s now. “And then dessert.”

“Oh no, I...understand. Dining with children must be difficult.” And Lianne could wholeheartedly sympathise, really. She was helping with her half-siblings, when she was a bit younger, and they were just as rambunctious as the two kids the woman was running after. She didn’t have any of her own, but Lianne didn’t mind the little boy smiling up at her. In fact, it warmed her heart in a way, made her dinner really worth it. “...I could help?” Uncharacteristic of Lianne to offer, but hey, children were children and she was only human. 

[liannesinclair-blog]

francescadifraggio‌:

availability: open to all location: francesca’s fashion atelier.

      She flashed two pieces of paper before the other. “So,” she began, proudly speaking of her drawings, future dressing gowns in the making. “Which one?” Francesca waved a piece of lavender coloured flower-y gown drawing, and then, showed them the other drawing she’d designed: a powerful red dress in what one would imagine silk or velvet mayhaps. “Which one do you prefer? Goddess of spring, or, goddess of Hell?” A proud grin shone through. She knew her clients loved her either way, but she lived for them. And the fashion atelier was her whole life. 

     “Something tells me you prefer the latter. Everyone’s got a thing for femme fatale’s these days.” She added.

Lianne tilted her head, observing both the designs. She wasn’t exactly sure what to say, since the both of them looked so pretty. “Well, the femme fatale thing is definitely eye-catching, with the reds and the shadows playing an effect of drama, that I definitely like. Who doesn’t like a splash of darkness in their wardrobe?” She paused, smiling politely, taking the woman’s gaze as a sign to continue. “But...I’ve always been partial to florals. And stars. If someone could combine the two tastefully, I would be very charmed.” 

[liannesinclair-blog]

prosperaffa‌:

Prosper would never admit that he felt a needle of pain. Would never let slip that she was sliding under his defenses as easily as she always did, even if he’d always been loathe to let her see him even when she’d stuck by his side through his physical therapy. She’d loved him even with unbecoming physicals scars that stroked the skin of his fingers, evidence of the fight he’d had to go through to regain his musical skills. Living without Darian was hard, yes, but living without what he breathed for, his music, was impossible. He used to think living without Lianne was impossible too, but here he was. Still breathing, even with her so far away. It wasn’t breathing well, it was labored and limping and he only knew how to draw in a full one when she was there, but Prosper was hanging on. Stubborn til the end.

Maybe she had. Who was he kidding - partly, she was right. Lianne had looked past his indiscretions time and time again, whether or not he was directly responsible (though he had been for quite a few of them). Not every woman would be willing to stand by a man who wouldn’t hesitate to ruin those who tried to step to them, crushing resistance with his heel and burning what remained. There were some that could; he’s seen them for years at events, other women from prominent families comfortable in their privilege and status and wouldn’t have a moments hesitation in protecting their reputation as well. Lianne had never been one of them. She had to be convinced to accept his expensive gifts, turned up her nose at black Lamborghini, dropped her jaw at the figures he and his family quoted casually. No one had fascinated him like her, especially because under her struggle with her rough edges, she secretly enjoyed it too. The expensive gifts, the private jet, the extravagant presents, some part of her took pleasure in it. Prosper himself was another one of those things to her, though wrapped in a fierce love that he shared for her. He was poison, he was bad for her, he was everything she didn’t want, but she couldn’t stop herself from wanting him. He simply didn’t fight the gravitation.

Organizing the thin stack of paper, he stood from the lovingly up-kept instrument, finishing what was left of his drink in a quick shot. Prosper pulled down the piano cover and took the cup with him to his spacious kitchen, equipped with all the newest accessories, and left it in the sink. The glow of his phone shone on his face in the dim lighting of his condo, fingers typing madly on his screen.

[sent 1:59am] PROSPER: See, that’s where you’re wrong. I know what I did was wrong, I just don’t care.

[sent 2:00am] PROSPER: You can have the excitement and still hold someone’s hand, Kit.

[sent 2:01am] PROSPER: Why would I ever? Normal fucks sound terribly boring. Normal fucks will never be good enough, I’m please that you agree with me. I’ve ruined you. Ruined you to want someone to tell you what to do, ruined you to anything vanilla.

[sent 2:11am] PROSPER: Non parlo il linguaggio del rimpianto.

Lianne would never ask him to return the favours she bestowed upon him. She was taught that love was giving and unselfish. It was to open your heart and expect it to hurt. It was to give and give, and ask for nothing in return, so that anything begotten was something to be savoured and cherished. But that wasn’t what she and Prosper shared. Their broken edges made sense. They didn’t fit, but they didn’t have to fit. Because when Lianne was with Prosper, it didn’t matter all that much. He was everything and more; a high she had to come crashing down from, eventually. There was no other word to describe what she felt for Prosper, except love. 

The gifts burned a hole in her integrity. Every shiny object, every mention of the millions thrown around, the silk and the gold; Lianne felt like a hypocrite every time she wore one of his gifts, and felt proud doing it. She did it for love, because sometimes, love meant losing the bits of yourself that didn’t fit right. Lianne never cared for the gifts, but she cared for the way they made Prosper light up; still remembering the time he was more than happy to help her into an evening gown. As the car drove past streets to his apartment, every memory of a love lackluster came to mind. She didn’t know why she was doing this, every mile wearing off the emboldened sense of whatever that propelled her. Anger? Loneliness? A messy mixture of both? 

She didn’t waste any time typing this reply. The taxi pulled up to the building, and Lianne paid, rather generously, because she was bleary eyed and she was feeling brazen. Honestly, it was luck that got her through security, and waiting for the elevator, she realised how lucky she had gotten.

[sent at 2.24am] That is where you are wrong, because you’re too wrapped up in your sheep’s wool to see it! I am not having this argument with you again 

[sent at 2.25am] You can’t. I didn’t have it with you. And I can’t hold another man’s hand without thinking of how yours felt around mine. 

[sent at 2.25am] Is that what you want to hear? Fine. 

Lianne rang his doorbell, not sure what she was going to see. Not wanting to think what was awaiting her beyond those heavy doors. “You ruined me, Prosper Raffa. You have ruined me, and I’m back here again, because I want it back. I want back what you took from me.” 

[liannesinclair-blog]

prosperaffa‌:

Lianne didn’t like that. Prosper had known that she wouldn’t and yet, had gone through with it anyway. Much like a lot of things in their relationship, knowing that she wouldn’t approve but saying fuck it to the consequences. No, he hadn’t done anything irreprehensible - had never cheated on while they were officially together and never would, hadn’t given her a reason to doubt his dedication to her and fidelity, but he hadn’t exactly made her proud either. He was selfish,  and could be incredibly so, both with her and his funds and even his talent. She knew that, maybe not going in but by the time they’d called it off for good, she had. Prosper knew Lianne better than he knew any person in the world save his twin, and that hadn’t gone away. Even in the year that had passed since their last talk.

Don’t talk to me like that. An instruction she’d given before, this being far from the first, sent while she’d been on dates with other men, with her family, even at work. With the economical  veritable cloud Prosper had been lounging on all his life, he quite often had a lot of free time on his hands. Could he have used it to call up his fuck buddies? Yes. Had he used it for that in the past?  Also yes. But there was only one woman he responded to even for a minute when caught in the throes of his muse, and it was the one messaging him now.

[sent at 1:27am] PROSPER: I let you go because I knew that I couldn’t love you past our problems. I let you go because even if we both know there will never be another as terribly suited to each other as we are, you want the chance at something normal. Something without fights, but also without the firework levels of fucking we got up to.

[sent at 1:28am] PROSPER: Little Lianne, have you ever considered that this is who I want to be? I don’t want to be better. I am my clothes and my money and my piano and my status, and if you separated me from that I’m not the man that you keeping coming back to I’m cocaine and you’re an addict. 

[sent at 1:35am] PROSPER: I don’t regret pursuing you. And I never will. Failure or not.

[sent at 1:40am] PROSPER: You tell yourself whatever the hell you need. When you end up with an excuse for a man with no backbone, no passion, no skill, and no fire to get your blood going I hope you remember this.

She wondered if he was satisfied, getting under her skin like he was doing right then. She wondered if he realised the power he still had over her, the emotional tug that unraveled everything Lianne had worked towards. She had her friends and she had her family to lean on, after all this had blown over. But still, he still managed to have that hold on her, and foolish little Lianne let him. She was the one who had mistakenly texted him anyway. She was the only one to blame for being hurt again. 

Lianne wished she was on a date. She wished there was another man right now, who she could pretend was Prosper. Even for the night. Even though, the only thing she wanted to feel Prosper’s skin against hers, hands around her waist and her lips calling out his name. She craved the quickened pulse, the heated touch and everything it came down to. How she wished she could replace him with someone else, knowing full well that would never quite be the case. No one would be good enough for Lianne, because no one would be Prosper Raffa. She didn’t think anyone, no matter how good they were with her, would ever be him. 

She was standing outside, letting the cold gust of air sober her up as she stood there waiting for a cab. Her phone vibrated, but she didn’t want to look at it. She almost even hoped it was Frankie, or her sister asking where she was and why she wasn’t home yet. But that would be--not the night for best case scenarios. 

Lianne wondered how he would react if she just showed up at his door. Looking like she did, with the imbalance in her steps and the slur in her voice. Prosper would hate the taste of beer in her mouth. Maybe he wouldn’t even open up; Yury would send her off with a pat on the back, and maybe a goodie bag, just in case. 

She finally looked at the messages, and there was nothing left to say to him. How did one respond to something like this, anyway? The brunette was almost tempted to go back to her plan, and scream at him to his face. 

[sent at 1.45am] I have done nothing but love you past our problems. I have looked past everything you did wrong, because I thought that maybe you’d get the hint. I thought you’d understand. 

[sent at 1.47am] Don’t say that. I know the kind of man you could be. I know there is a Prosper that is so much more than his money and his fortune. I know that Prosper. Or should I say knew him? Because that man would have known what he did wrong. 

[sent at 1.48am] I don’t need the excitement or the rush. I just want someone who I can rely on. Who’s hand I can hold, knowing it’s not going to be another fight, another fire. 

[sent at 1.48am] Sometimes, I enjoy a normal fuck. No fireworks, no heat. Just a normal fuck. Did you ever consider that? 

[sent at 1.49am] Now you did. Now you know. I’m just a normal girl, Prosper. And now, you’ve cursed me. Nothing will ever be good enough for me. 

Lianne’s cab was here, and she had a decision to make. What did she have left to say to Prosper that she couldn’t tell him right now? Calling him and yelling it till he got it. Lianne didn’t have to see his face to do that. Because she could never forget his face. 

She gave the cab driver the address, leaning back in the seat and waiting to arrive. She let her head rest on the cool glass of the window and sighed gently.

[liannesinclair-blog]

rdrigofntana‌:

Rodrigo found his brow raising at the response. “Let me guess–your favorite color is black too and you’re an avid reader of Edgar Allen Poe?” A slight pause was cast towards the woman before continuing. “Hot or cold?” His tone clearly insinuating sarcasm at the dig. It was in his nature to try to rile up anyone he came in quarters with. To the man – he thought he was the next new comedian. His antics becoming repetitive. “Life’s too short for small talk, don’t tell me you’re not one for comfortable silence?”

Lianne was momentarily surprised by the question, before she realised that he was probably joking. Right? Edgar Allan Poe was totally in right now, anyway. “...I do own a lot of black....and my favourite book is The Tell-Tale Heart...” She looked down at her skirt and then shook her head. “My point is, rainy weather should be just as appreciated as any other weather.” To the contrary, Lianne did quite well in broody intervals. She didn’t like small talk, and silence was always comfortable, no matter what preceded it. So Lianne just shook her head at the stranger and shrugged. 

[liannesinclair-blog]

prosperaffa‌:

Two minutes. Who was desperate now? Though honestly, they were only fooling themselves. Restraint had never been a part of Lianne and Prosper’s relationship, and wasn’t going to start making an appearance now. Dark eyes scanned his screen as the messages came with increasing frequency the hand with the signet ring swirling his drink before taking a sip. Prosper wondered where she was. Was she in her apartment, wearing lingerie he had bought her, thinking of him? Was she drinking with friends, messaging him from under the table, denying her flushed cheeks? All he knew was that she wasn’t here with him, and that was a decision that Lianne had made, whether or not she was happy with it. Whether or not Prosper was happy with it, though the answer was certainly no.

In his head, Lianne flashed her metaphorical teeth at him, desperate to hurt him first before he got into her head. He was better at it than anyone she’d ever known, Prosper’d deduced, and no one ever would; he wasn’t interested in abdicating his position. As much as Prosper was weak to her charms, he had to stick to his guns on this one, family loyalty trumping all else. Even if he couldn’t keep himself from barreling right past break up standards. Even if her response was just to ghost him, possibly more hurtful than anything else.

Though every time she threw the words at him, ‘I don’t love you’, another piece of his heart withers and dies, belonging completely to her.

[sent 12:39am] PROSPER: You know good and well that my favorite taste is your cream, Kit.

You’re a coward. Not fucking true. It took courage to stand his ground when it came to his brother, fighting for his sobriety when no one else would. It took strength to have uncompromising beliefs, even if they weren’t as black and white as Lianne would prefer. He’d never lived in black and white, he’d lived in grey, and that was one of their biggest problems. That, and from being incapable of doing anything slower than zero to a hundred. All they knew was to stomp on the gas until they spun out of control.

[sent 12:52am] PROSPER: Don’t think that because I let you go that I don’t fucking love you, Julianne. I am my fucking suits and my fucking money, but you knew that going in, didn’t you? 

[sent 12:53am] PROSPER: Ciò che, Little Lianne.

[sent 1:01am] PROSPER: You made your decision. Keep it, like a grown up.

Lianne wished she didn’t ask Prosper to make her wait. Maybe she had lost touch with his habits, so entwined with her own that it didn’t feel any different. He listened to her demands, no matter how ridiculous. And in turn. she made things harder than they needed to be. They weren’t perfect by any means, and anyone who saw them at their most natural could see how mismatched their edges were. But, when Lianne was with Prosper, those edges didn’t matter to her. She moved the hair out of her face, trying her hardest not to cry right then. 

Never had she felt this lonely before. Surrounded by throngs of people, she felt so alone. And this was not a feeling Lianne was familiar with, never got used to it. This was the girl who found it easier to hang around the back of the room, and she was okay with making no friends in her lifetime. But right then, having those words out in the open, feeling her anger leaving her body, she felt so alone, she thought she’d suffocate in that loneliness. Lianne was crying, gasping for air and just...---one mistake after another. 

[sent 12:39am] PROSPER: You know good and well that my favorite taste is your cream, Kit.

She felt disgusted in herself, for the sudden imagery that flooded her system. She didn’t need to think about her craving, about how badly she wanted to be in the warmth of his arms. The one person she wanted, was the one person she couldn’t allow herself to love anymore. Lianne’s morals were stronger than that. Besides, the world was black and white. There was no space for the Raffas’ indecisiveness in it. Because being morally grey didn’t mean you were good person; it made one questionable, at best. 

[sent at 12.42am] Don’t talk to me like that. 

Lianne looked around the room, before coming back to her phone. She was rubbing the tear tracks off with one hand, the thumb on her phone brushing off stray tears from the screen. He took forever to reply. That feeling of dread just kept growing in her belly. 

[sent at 1.10am] Then why did you let me go? Was it because you knew that I wouldn’t stay? Maybe we should let our love grow sour. It would make it so much more easier to hate you. 

[sent at 1.11am] I thought you could change. Be more than your money and your clothes and your status. Because that was what you did for me, Raffa. You made believe I could be anyone I wanted to be. 

[sent at 1.11am] You set me up for failure. 

[sent at 1.12am] I am keeping my decisions. I am so much better without you. So much.

Maybe if she said it out loud to herself, Lianne could believe she was better off without him. And this was her last drink. She needed to go home, and sleep off this waking nightmare. “I really don’t love him. I...need to catch a cab.” 

[liannesinclair-blog]

bradyemmerson‌:

With the weather steadily getting close to what Brady could only assume was a monsoon about to strike, she’d chosen to just hole up in the small coffee shop she’d been in rather than trying to brave the elements to get back to her office. Coming from years of her life spent in sunny California, it was slowly killing her. “It -…well. I guess y’know it’s…some people like it,” Brady commented back, wincing slightly. There was no reason why she couldn’t just express her differing opinion, but it was so ingrained in her mind to avoid conflict that even something this minor she tended towards pacifism. “I haven’t been here too long, but it’s…a far cry from California weather.”

Lianne avoided confrontations. It wasn’t that she would be bad at it; it was just that she didn’t ever hold her own very well, in a fight. Not unless it was something she felt passionately about, and unless it was Prosper. And she could sense reservation from her conversation partner and made no moves to rectify that, but the least Lianne could do was smooth it over. “California, you say? I’ve never really left city limits in a few years, so I forget weather exists...in other places.” She shrugged. “It’s cozy. The kind of weather you could sleep through, if you wanted.” 

[liannesinclair-blog]

evangelinenolan‌:

For the past few years, Evangeline had been struggling to see the sunshine in even the brightest days. A hole had been punched into her life so suddenly that she had no time to prepare or even come to terms with everything. So on days like today, with clouds forming overhead and a cool breeze floating by, she felt at peace. No need to force laughter or fake smiles on a day like today. All she wanted to do was sit and drink her coffee. A woman in the booth near her table spoke up and startled her at first, her eyes moving to her and giving her a ghost of a smile. “For some reason, days like today are the ones that bring me the most peace. There’s a certain calmness about overcast skies and cool breezes. Glad I’m not the only one.”

People, namely her family, thought Lianne was bonkers for not liking the sun, or summer time. She was an autumnal baby, she would explain, before her voice would drowned by her brothers’ play fighting over best summer vacation spots around the country. And of course, in true Lianne fashion, she would never bring it up. “There’s just something about not being forced to do something, that makes everything seem so much better. No one expects someone to be happy in the rain, which just...make this all the more better.” Apparently, it made Lianne more chatty than usual as well, or maybe it was the sugar she had added to her latte. 

[liannesinclair-blog]

prosperaffa‌:

His girl. Though he has no right to think of her in that way in more. So quick to defend herself. So fast to brave her teeth in his direction and tell him things they both knew weren’t true. Prosper chuckled to himself, and just for that text turned away from his phone and back to his music. Pushed with renewed fervor, his fingers danced heavily on the keys, wringing out a dark tune. He never wrote music intended for words, inclined to only write things that could give you emotion without a dictate as to what specifically it was. It was a love that had carried him through his most of his life, his first love if he was being honest, and his instrument was the one thing that had more of him that Lianne had. Prosper and she may no longer be together, but he couldn’t fall out of old habits, for wanting to make her suffer, just the slightest bit, for the sass she’d thrown  back at him.

It’s a long minute before he decides to pick the phone back up. Pros knows she’s drunk, Lianne only inclined to say what she truly felt when her inhibitions were loosened with liquor, and he sent a mental prayer up to his mothers favorite patron saint. Keep her safe while she was out. He hoped she was alone, but if he wasn’t, he had no right to feel a way about it. If she was, then he would only allow himself to feel smugness about the fact that Lianne would be with him and yet still thinking of Prosper.

[sent 12:20am] PROSPER: Would you prefer that I make you sweat? Worry about what I’m thinking? Because we both know what I’m thinking.

[sent 12:23am] PROSPER: Of course I miss you. I’ll always fucking love you. But I’ll always be this person, too. You decided you couldn’t look past who I am anymore. 

Surely, he was taking his own time with that reply. “I don’t care.” She said out loud, to herself. Lianne went back to the beer, trying to distract herself with it, with people or something. Anything that would stop her from worry about what he was going to say. She hadn’t even come bar crawling, being utterly alone having suited her far well than any shade on a colour wheel. She had always been one for loneliness. She even sought it, like a moth drawn to flame. She wasn’t here with company. No one would ever be Prosper Raffa. 

She was almost done with this glass, when her phone beeped again. She closed her eyes, bracing herself before ordering another beer and then changing her mind to something stronger. Maybe if she blacked out, she would not remember these texts. Thank you autocorrect. Her vision was a little bleary now, and she had to blink before she read them. 

[sent at 12.25am] Thought you liked keeping me on my toes. Or was it my knees? Either way, that’s your favourite flavour always, isn’t it? 

I’ll always fucking love you. Prosper had no right to say that to her. He had lost it the day he refused to apologize. The day refused to care. Because it showed that his love had been as shallow as he was, and Lianne couldn’t believe that she had given him the best years of her life. Of course, the resentment was now chalk in the bottom of a river; it had sedimented, but it still hurt. It always hurt. Of course, she had seen where she could have been wrong, but...it didn’t mean her anger was going anywhere.

[sent at 12.28am] Don’t say that. Don’t fucking say that. You don’t mean it. 

[sent at 12.28am] You don’t love me. You’re a coward and you don’t love me anymore. 

[sent at 12.30am] Hide behind your pretty suits and expensive liquor. Because that’s all you ever were. Your music, your lifestyle, your money. I didn’t love that. I can’t believe I loved that. 

[sent at 12.31am] I don’t love you anymore. I hate you, Prosper. I hate you. 

She should have just gone home after that. But there was more alcohol in her system, and Lianne had more things to say to him. The chalk was starting to wear off, and her temper wasn’t going to go home with her. 

[liannesinclair-blog]

prosperaffa‌:

His fingers had been flying across the keys for hours. Yury, his longtime butler and head of house (or in Prosper’s case, head of luxury condo), knew better than to bother him. Knowing him for as long as he had, when Prosper got in that kind of mood Yury got to take a half day. The oldest direct line Raffa son, for his part, was a creative mood, you could say. More like, it was drawing closer to a year to the day that Lianne had walked out of his place and in effect, his life. When he’d first met her in that student bar, so far below his standards, he hadn’t expected what he would find. A woman so complex, so suited to his passions and wants and yet so opposed to so many of them, that he’d expected, eventually, to figure it all out with. A woman whose connection with him had been severed partly due to the loyalty he refused to compromise on when it came to his family.

Regardless, she’d been the cause of many of his troubled, passionate, emotion evoking works over the years, and it looked like she was going to be the cause of one more. When would Prosper’s heart and creative self be able to move away from the emotions Lianne had caused in him for so long? Would he ever be truly able to? Questions  he didn’t know if he’d have the answer to. A glass of bourbon lay on a pocket square on top of his Fazioli piano, his company after he’d eaten dinner at his piano bench, and the sleeves of his royal blue Versace shirt were pushed to his elbows.  The fingers that caressed the black and ivory keys so well were marked a bit with the ink from his fountain pen, the only one he used when composing, only halting when his phone buzzed.

[sent at 11.43pm] I’m doing so much better without you. I don’t miss you anymore. Goodbye, dick.

A mix of a sigh and a chuckle passed Prosper’s lips, holding the phone in front of him. “Oh, Kit.” Prosper said lowly to himself, shaking his head a bit. It seems she hadn’t changed, not that he’d doubted it. He swiftly typed out a reply, leaving it on his thigh while he got back to playing and waited for a response.

[sent at 11:50pm] PROSPER: Mio kit, you ended it. At least don’t lie to yourself about how we’re both feeling afterwards.

[sent at 11:51pm] PROSPER: Don’t tell me you don’t miss me when I know you do.

Lianne closed her eyes, head resting atop hands clasped as if in prayer, but it was just an alcohol induced headache. And the tears, of course. It hurt to stop thinking, to stop wondering what Prosper was doing, sitting in his fortress, overlooking the city. Would he be sitting by the window, watching the cars go in and out, watching the light twinkle from that height? Maybe he’d be drinking, like Lianne used to. Her name, etched in fog. A joke. There was a heavy feeling in her chest, every beat too slow, but still there. She was still alive, and she was listening to her own heart breaking. Maybe this would be a yearly thing. Even when she’d be old and grey, with grandchildren of her own, her heart would break on this day. 

She was tempted to drown her phone in the pint, but then thought against it; waiting out her phone contract got her this new phone, along with a good data plan. Lianne couldn’t risk it, she liked it too much. Maybe Prosper didn’t see it. Maybe he was too busy entertaining guests to even worry about his phone. That thought made some bitter rise in her throat, and she sat in the same place, she could have slapped herself. Because six years ago, Lianne had hoped the stranger at the bar would leave her alone, find another woman to take home that night, and now?That thought was like poison, bitter and toxic, too much to swallow. Move on. That wasn’t happening, clearly. 

The woman looked up to see new faces and clothes surrounding her at the bar, almost worried that she might have fallen asleep, Rubbing her face, Lianne took a deep breath in, almost regretting the smell of spilled beer and cigarettes. And then her phone lit up, notifying her of a text. It could be your sisters. Or work. Relax, Lianne. But she knew it wasn’t going to be either of the two. Because those are best case scenarios and tonight wasn’t going to be best case scenarios. 

[sent at 11:50pm] PROSPER: Mio kit, you ended it. At least don’t lie to yourself about how we’re both feeling afterwards.

How dare he? Lianne’s eyes widened, the first rush of anger flooding her system. Kit. A name Lianne had always hated. Hated how weak at the knees it still made her feel. Hated how much she loved hearing those words fall from his lips. Lianne bit the inside of her own cheek to keep from reacting vocally to this. 

[sent at 11:51pm] PROSPER: Don’t tell me you don’t miss me when I know you do.

Lianne didn’t miss him. She didn’t miss Prosper Raffa. Hadn’t he read the text? She didn’t care to miss him. She cared. This just fed into the anger that was now rumbling in the pit of her stomach. The phone was held tight in her hand. Fingers shaking as she typed and deleted, typed and deleted, trying find the right words to say. 

[sent at 11:55pm] You answered quick. Desperate much? 

[sent at 11:55pm] If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you miss me too. 

Shit. The last bit, just added to the adage of drunken words being sober thoughts. She didn’t miss him. Didn’t miss him. She missed him.

[liannesinclair-blog]

---it’s a quarter after one, i’m a little drunk and i need you now || @prosperaffa

Ouch. The bar had crappy choice in music, and Lianne wanted nothing more than to shut it off. Or change to something better on the radio. It wasn’t even close to one AM, because then Lianne wouldn’t be here. She didn’t like staying out late, it wasn’t her scene, the late nights. Even if this had been a very special night, Lianne would have much rather gone home to celebrate. Her phone was a silent brick, that she fiddled with to check the time on every now and again. It was funny how things changed, sometimes not so quick, and other times...almost like pulling a rug from under your feet. 

She was on her first glass of Stella, almost done with it, before politely ordering for herself a pint of beer. Lianne had been sat at this dingy student bar, one she used to frequent when she was still in college, and when the nostalgia for bad beer and terrible music struck, she’d come back here again, always dressed in black somehow. Most importantly, she was sat in the very same place she had first made the acquaintance of one Prosper Raffa. And there was the tornado that was...everything after him. The brown haired woman tried to stop thinking about him, tried to stop thinking of Lady Antebellum bleeding into something more rock and roll in the background, tried to stop thinking altogether. This wasn’t fair; in the year that she had left him, he hadn’t called or texted, didn’t want to know if she was still around, or alive even. Prosper hadn’t cared, so why did she care? Why did she want to avoid everything her mind was telling her and just text him? 

Why did she still care? 

Lianne was going to leave. But she couldn’t leave, because leaving would mean that this was yet another thing Prosper ruined for her and she wouldn’t let him win. Even if it was her memories, Lianne Sinclair wouldn’t let him win. In fact, while she sipped on her beer, she was going to tell Prosper how much she didn’t care about his existence. Of course she had still saved his number, of course she didn’t delete the texts. But it didn’t matter, because Lianne didn’t care. 

[sent at 11.43pm] I’m doing so much better without you. I don’t miss you anymore. Goodbye, dick. 

Only after she had hit send, did Lianne realise what she had done. It was groggy, but the dots connected in her head and it made her skin flush red in embarrassment and she hoped to whatever higher power was in the sky that he didn’t read that text.

[liannesinclair-blog]

athena-beaumont‌:

                    Much like The Scarlett Letter, Athena had an ‘A’ embodied on her designer attire since New York. Despite her scrubbing, bathing, and unthreading - she was unable to remove the stain that had been left on her soul. A permanent reminder of the sin that she had committed. Still, she could pretend - contort herself into the angel that her mother had once dreamed her being. A month had gone, and there had been radio silence, - the tabloids had rumoured that she had been carted off to rehab for (and she quotes) ‘who in their right mind would leave someone has handsome and talented as Henry’, in the middle of their wedding. Whilst others had claimed they had secretly gotten married and had been on their honeymoon. Though, she was safe to admit that neither had happened. 

                   It was all good to be true, however, and it wasn’t long before the paparazzi had found her. They swarmed, hollowing into the cracks of town, - decorating once safe havens as battle grounds. “Excuse me,” Pink tinges her cheeks before she is able to speak, black glasses covering the majority of her features. “Do you know of a back-way out of here? One that would lead away from the main road?”

Lianne had noticed the stray photographer, almost looking around to see if she was around someone famous. She didn’t like being in crowds to begin with, and where was a click, there had to be a throng. The woman approaching Lianne doesn’t look too familiar, but then again, it wasn’t like Lianne knew everyone in Detroit; she barely knew the people in her building, and she had been living there for a good amount of time now. 

“...there’s a blind alley here, with an open gate of course. I don’t know why they call it blind, but I will warn you, it’s stinks of filth, and sometimes, you might see things that...are best to never be seen again.” 

[liannesinclair-blog]

“I’m not one to talk about the weather, but I must admit I quite like this season. Something lovely about this being...so dreary.” Of course, Lianne was referring to the thick clouds that hung over the city, not yet pouring but so close. She was tucked into her booth, or her bench, whatever one would call it, gazing out the window, with no signs of leaving thus far. She was warm and cozy, therefore it didn’t matter if it did end up raining after all. “Wouldn’t you agree too?” No harm in making small talk, was there?

[bob-belcher]

If any of you cross me, I’m gonna kick the testicles clean off your body! Clean off! You’ll look like Ken dolls down there. Because that’s where I’m at right now.