Grimoire Gaming — Roleplayer Guild

Maya Soto’s life was suddenly a movie, so it seemed. The genre? Yet to be determined… but hopefully it wasn’t a horror film, despite the ominous nature of the suitcase and the blackmail. Okay, so maybe it was looking to be the introduction to a horror movie. Maya was probably heading to her own murder, or a human trafficking ring, or something equally as awful, but hey! At least she was riding first class on her way to it! Nothing like going out in style. Was this how the one percenters got to live? Maya had never even flown on an airplane before, let alone first class. When the flight attendant offered her a hard beverage, you bet your ass she took it. Maya needed something strong to help shake these nerves.

The Glacier Park International Airport was quaint compared to the one in Arizona that she had taken off from. Maya had her carry on full of art supplies — pencils, ink pens, charcoal, watercolor paints, and sketchbooks of various grades of paper, and a suitcase with everything from athletic adventure clothes to formal ball attire. She had both bags in tow when she encountered Mr. Spooky, the suited… butler? Honestly, what was her life right now? She was getting in a car, with this elderly stranger, and most definitely heading towards her death.

The young brunette sat in the backseat of the luxury vehicle and stared down at the note that the man in the airport had stealthily passed to her. What kind of game were these rich bastards playing with her? Of course she didn’t trust them! Why would she have any reason to trust people that literally blackmailed her onto a plane flight to Montana? The only reason she was even here was because her life was quite literally hanging in the balance. Maya crumpled the note up and stuffed it into her jacket pocket, trying to put it out of her mind for the time being.

“Oh my god.” Maya remarked in awe as the boat approached her final destination. If she had thought that the five thousand dollars, first class seat, Range Rover, suited butler man, and the boat ride to a private island were extra… the residence located on said private island put all of those things to shame. This wasn’t a house. Hell, it wasn’t even a mansion. This place was a whole goddamn castle!

Maya was interrupted from her awestruck admiration by the voice of a tall, beautiful Asian woman. So, this was Heather Vandertulip. The name might have sounded phony, but there appeared to be a real live person behind it. She… well, she didn’t look like a murderer or a human trafficker, but you can never trust appearances. Regardless, Maya followed the woman inside and couldn’t shake the feeling that she was like a lamb heading to slaughter.

The interior of the estate proved to be just as regal and impressive as the exterior. Maya had only ever experienced such luxuries through the TV screen before. How was she supposed to “make herself at home” in a place where even the air she breathed felt above her means? Heather directed her attention to a table full of lovely looking refreshments before asking that she remain there until everyone arrived. Wait… 

“Everyone?” Maya asked quietly in shock after Heather had already walked away. In all of this time, she had never expected that there would be others. Were they all being blackmailed, like she was? What were their secrets like? What did these wealthy people intend to do with them? Was this going to be a competition to the death, like those awful Saw movies? Maya drowned out her panic by taking a large gulp of ice water while she waited in the great room. Well… let the games begin, mamá didn’t raise a loser.

A @smarty0114, @Silent Observer & @Lovely Complex collab
Featuring: Noah Nichols, JD Piccoli, Lucas Piccoli & Regina “Sin” Piccoli
Location: The Hardy-Piccoli Manor

It took a hell of a lot to make Lucas Piccoli feel awkward. Hell, he wasn’t even sure that he’d ever been acquainted with the feeling, living a life as shamelessly as he had thus far. But, walking in to his teenager’s wide open door and catching him with his tongue damn near down another boy’s throat? Well, hello awkward, nice to meet ya! It’s not that his son was kissing a boy, that’s not the awkward part, don’t get it twisted, it’s the fact that his dumbass didn’t bother closing the goddamn door first. No, the boy-kissing came as no surprise to Luke, he’d had his suspicions for a while now. The poor kid has far too much anger and self hatred to be struggling with anything less than an identity crisis… Christ, it was like looking into a fucking time travel mirror sometimes.

The patriarch of the Hardy-Piccoli manor trotted down the spiral steps and headed towards the kitchen, where his wife was no doubt sitting and angrily staring at the Chinese food menu. Hangrily staring at it, rather. When Luke entered the room, he made a show of widening his eyes, blowing out a puff of air in a mighty sigh, and slowly shaking his head from side to side. “Welp…” He started, trailing off as he leaned his head into the fridge to fetch a beer.

The fragrance of the kitchen wasn’t that of flowers, like most proper wives would make sure of. Though, there were some dried up in a vase, by the window sill. Dead sunflowers. Poetic, if anyone were to ask the boss lady. The smell was more of incense. A scent to go well with the gothic architecture, like a church.  A place bound to give anyone a spiritual awakening. All intentional, of course.  Life was sacred and so was their home. 

This was their little piece of heaven and the woman of the household always had rhyme and reason behind the design. If you didn’t like it, this place wasn’t for you. Their home was a thematic art museum, horror and all hallow’s eve, and everything in between, where ninety nine percent of the furniture cost an arm and a leg. But what mattered was the look. Fuck the price. This was for morale. Regina liked having her home like this. She needed her home like this. Luke approved and made wife happy, even if the look on her face usually read: I will castrate you. 

As mother dearest peered down at the menu in annoyance and  silence, she swirled whiskey in a crystal glass with her right hand. Her predatory stare, dark and hungry, went from the menu to the man at the fridge. She didn’t say a word. She waited.    

“Now listen close, ‘cause I’m only going to say this once.” Lucas said as he popped the cap off of his bottle of lager using an opener that was fastened to the side of the refrigerator. “You listenin’, you got your recording device out or whatever?’ He asked with a smirk and a raised brow before taking a swig of the brew in his hand.

“Fucking shit, spit it out already, Luke. You’re taking as long as it takes to get your dick up and that’s just sad.” Sin rolled her eyes before taking a swig of her drink. She was impatient and he knew that. He shows his age more and more each day. 

“Agh, fuck off, you don’t even deserve it now…” Lucas shook his head at her and took another sip of beer before continuing. “...you were right.”

Oh. He was right. She should’ve recorded this shit. “About what exactly? I want to hear exactly what I’m right in. Please, Shortie, enlighten me.”

He replied first with an eye roll, and then shrugged. “Spawn’s got a crush.” Luke took a seat at the large, dark walnut dining table beside her and set his bottle on a coaster. “And apparently we missed the parenting memo to tell him that he needs to shut his door. I thought that was self explanatory, but…”

“Hey, maybe he likes the risk and the danger of being caught. Could be a hard turn on. We didn’t always close the door.” Sin teased, grabbing the menu and gesturing for him to take it. “I circled what I wanted, you decide what the boys should eat, or we’ll just order everything and share.”

Lucas raised an eyebrow and nodded. What she said made sense “Well shit, maybe we raised an exhibitionist… though, he looked pretty mortified. Who knew sexual deviancy was hereditary?” Luke smirked over the menu at her, little more than his ever expressive eyes peeking over the paper. “They’ll be down soon, once they’re done tongue boxing, I assume. I told him you were hungry, he knows the risk of every minute longer that he takes.”

“You know me so well.” Lucas’ wife said plainly. 

Meanwhile, upstairs…

“You lied.” JD’s last words still hung heavy in the room following his father’s departure, which had come just as suddenly as he had arrived. What Dixon had meant by that, of course, was that Noah lied about like liking him. You don’t just kiss someone back… all desperate and hungry like that… and not like them, like them. Remembering the kiss, and the intensity of the moment that had just passed, JD put a finger to his lips as a plea for Noah to keep quiet about it. He wasn’t ready to face the full consequences of talking about it yet, of making it real like that… even if he wanted to do it again.

“... are you… okay?” Dixon asked after what seemed like entire minutes of silence. Noah looked stunned, he hadn’t lost that deer caught in headlights look since Lucas had first come into the room. JD even hazarded to take a step further towards the boy, which felt dangerous, given what close proximity between them had led to previously. But it was the tempting kind of danger, a little bit of thrill at the ‘what if’ of it all.

Was he okay? That was a very good question. If Noah was being completely honest, he wasn’t sure. Noah was staring vacantly through JD, trying to process everything that had just happened. His first kiss with a boy, hell, his first kiss, period, had just taken place, and it had left him aching for more. Why didn’t people do that all the time?

After a moment of contemplation, Noah’s mind returned to his body, snapping back to life. “I’m… great.” Noah smiled from behind a loose fringe of blond hair, eyeing JD with a newly discovered lust. He wanted to kiss him again, kiss him until someone forcibly pulled them apart, but he had neither the confidence for that, nor the time. “Your dad sounded hungry,” Noah continued, unsure how to traverse this unfamiliar territory. What do you say to the boy who just kissed you, the boy who you were pretty sure didn’t even like boys?

For a moment, JD was caught up in Noah’s thirsty gaze. He chewed at his lip rings, wondering what in the hell he was getting himself into here. Gods, what if Katie found out. Katie could not find out. But that was a discussion for later, when they aren’t both recovering from what just happened. “He’s not the bad one when he’s hungry, trust me.” Dixon toyed with his lip rings some more, out of a nervous habit. “Well, if you really are… great… then are you ready to meet the vampires?” He asked with a smirk.

Good lord, did he have to play with his lip rings like that? It was so… so… tempting. With a soft smile, Noah nodded, trying his best to ignore the lip rings, and the hair and the everything that made this boy so irresistible. He allowed JD to lead the way, his head down. He was about to go meet the parents of his first kiss, after one of said parents had walked right in on that first kiss. God, Katie was really starting to turn his life into a soap opera.

“Remember what I said about them.” JD began his second pep talk of the afternoon. Noah needed it. He could already tell by the submissive way that Noah had his head down that this was going to go so, so poorly. His parents were carnivores, and he accidentally brought the softest lamb to the slaughter. “They’re shit talkers, so, don’t take any of it personally, okay? Personal jabs are like… our love language, or whatever. If you feel weird, it probably means that they like you… or…” Or they were just having fun. “Something like that.” Dixon finished as the pair made their way down the steps and towards the kitchen.

Both of his parents were sitting at the table and Dixon eyed them each carefully. He had told them to be nice this morning, but that advice more than likely fell on deaf ears. “Hey,” JD greeted casually. “This is Noah. Don’t be rude.” His voice was confident and assertive, as he was raised to be. It was the only way to survive this place unscathed.

Lucas nodded and slid the menu their way. “Luke.” He said, introducing himself curtly. “Not Mr. Piccoli, that’s my old man. Just Luke.”

Noah’s eyes looked this man up and down, taking note of his many eccentricities, sketching him out in his head already. The same rebelliousness that had initially drawn Noah to JD was just as prevalent in his father, maybe even more so. Waving a hand, he looked at Luke, not so much at his eyes, but to the side, just ever so slightly breaking eye contact. His mom had been right. This was way easier. “I’m Noah. Nichols.” He realized too late that his last name was probably not necessary. Things were off to a great start.

Irritable, but still welcoming, Regina watched her son and his toy with a calcutive stare. To shatter the ice, rather than ease into greetings, the mother, who held her glass of whiskey close to her lips, her elbow resting on the counter, brought the glass of hard liquor towards Noah, “Whiskey?” The question lingered in the air, and her expression and tone didn’t hint if she was joking or not. After a pause, she introduced herself, “The name’s Old Hag. My sperm donor calls me that. You can too, or Sin, or Regina, or JD’s mama with the big bust. I don’t give a fuck. Capeesh?”

“Oh, uh, capeesh,” Noah said quickly, clearly intimidated by the brashness of JD’s family. He hadn’t realized how serious JD had been. He really was sure he’d just been overcompensating for having eccentric parents, but no, these people were more than eccentric. They were...revolutionary. He could tell, these were the types to rewrite every rule they didn’t like, the kind of people who didn’t just create, they remade. They were everything Noah wanted to be as an artist, and then some. Brave, interesting, wild. He was going to explode, surely, from the sheer whirlwind of emotions that were tearing apart his insides. Anxiety, confusion, admiration, and fear jumbled his internal organs into a mess. How was he possibly going to survive the night?

“Mommm, seriously?” Dixon asked in a groan. She was playing with his friend out of sheer enjoyment of watching him squirm. JD had asked them to behave, and they listened… not at ALL. He was a good son, he didn't deserve this. Dixon waved off her offering of whiskey to Noah, “no thanks, he doesn't handle alcohol well.” He turned his attention back to Noah now, smirking. “Do you?” He asked, remembering how the party had turned out earlier that week. How he had to take care of Noah. JD had done a piss poor job of it, but even still, it felt right — taking care of Noah.

After circling the things he wanted from the Chinese food menu, he pushed it towards Noah. “Pick what you like. Do you want something else to drink? We've got, like, a bit of everything.” JD asked as he got up from the table and walked towards the fridge to refill his own glass of juice.

“Isn’t that more of a reason to get him drunk!? You should build his tolerance up.” Was she a good mother? Probably not. “Then that opens the possibility of drinking games and… other things.” Her gaze went from Noah, then to her husband, as she recalled the questionable nights they had from drinking. 

Abruptly, because that’s how Sin Hardy was, she pulled the menu away from the boys, “We’re just going to order everything.” They had the money, so why not. Chinese leftovers for days.

“Erm, water’s fine,” Noah said to JD, his eyes flitting around the room as his insides imploded. He could hardly handle conversations with the Callaghans, and they were boring compared to Lucas and Sin. Make it through dinner without embarrassing yourself and you’ll be good. How hard can that be? Noah’s eyes finally landed on Sin and Lucas, as he scratched the back of his neck. “I-uh-I really like the art you -erm- guys have up,” Noah said, taking his tentative first steps into the lion’s den of conversation.

Dixon, with his head hidden behind the safety of the open fridge door, was dying inside. ‘Other things’? Oh gods, she knew. Of course his mother knew. She was like a freaky psychic witch when it came to him. And if she knew, then this dinner conversation could end up getting a whole lot more awkward. Was it possible to rewind time and just… uninvite Noah over? No, it wasn’t, and truthfully, there were some things he didn’t want to rewind away. Putting on a neutral-faced mask, he returned from the kitchen counter with a glass of juice for himself, and water for Noah, before sitting down across from him at the table.

“Really?” Lucas responded to Noah with an eyebrow curiously raised. “Wife and I have a very… unique taste in decor, I’m surprised you like it.” Luke was judging a book by it’s cover a bit, given Noah’s very vanilla appearance. He didn’t seem the type to find interest in gothic art and architecture.

“Noah’s an artist.” JD explained on the other boy’s behalf.

“Ah, is that so?” The father remarked with a nod and sipped at his beer.

“Your dad’s a prat.” Grabbing the menu, Sin hopped off the chair. Pulling out her phone, she added, glancing over to Noah, “You got a callus on your middle finger. Not the fingertips like a guitarist.” So, by pure observation, Sin assumed this kid drew. And by observation, she assumed he was interesting. Why else would her son like him? Because he was vanilla? Absolutely not! It would be uncanny, unheard of, and unnatural, if this kid wasn’t different in some way. Different was good in the Hardy-Piccoli book. “I bet secretly you’re a freak.” She winked at the lamb, letting that feeling linger in the air for a second too long. 

Sighing to herself, still famished, she decided it was time to get away for a moment to order food, “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’m going to take care of this.” She waved the menu at them, and grinned, “If I don’t, you may end up missing your second head. And by you, I mean all of you. Luke, entertain them.” With that, the mother disappeared, walking out of the kitchen, heading toward the backyard.

Lucas shook his head as he watched his wife leave the room. Hate to see her go, but oh, to watch her leave. Actually, it wasn't that bad to see her go, either. He'd had just about enough of her hangry ass for the night. She'd pay for her constant insults later. The disgruntled father turned to face the kids now. Entertain them? What the fuck did he look like, a television? “I ain't really about small talk, kid. How about you tell me something interesting instead.” Luke said to Noah, both his eyes and his son's were on the Noah now, both awaiting his answer with different intentions.

The last place Noah needed to be right now, was on the spot. So of course, the universe, or some malignant deity that had taken a special interest in forcing Noah into uncomfortable situations.  “Oh well, uh,” Noah stammered as he racked his suddenly empty brain for anything that would satisfy Lucas’ desire for ‘something interesting.’ “Did you know that Van Gogh painted Starry Night in an insane asylum? It’s supposed to be the view from his window,” Noah finally burst out, his eyes darting from Lucas, to his own fidgeting hands, and back to Lucas.

“Huh, no shit… I didn’t know that.” Luke said with an appreciative nod, clearly impressed with Noah’s fun fact. The Piccoli’s didn’t own a Van Gogh piece — they weren’t that fucking rich — but of course, they knew of his works. Who didn’t? “That’s not too surprising, though. Us creative types have always been colored as a bit crazy. I think that’s what makes us better at the arts.”

“Pfft, speak for yourself, old man. I’m not crazy.” Dixon retorted and crossed his arms over his chest in challenge.

“Oh yeah? Would Doc Thomas say the same?” Lucas fired back, quick as a whip. It was no mystery as to where JD got his spiciness from. “And thirty-six ain’t old, ya lil shit.”

Dixon rolled his eyes and uncrossed his arms before standing up from the table. “Whatever, that’s different from crazy crazy. And yes it is, especially in rockstar years. You’re like, ancient, dude. Soon enough you’ll be looking all… Mick Jagger.” JD smirked, pleased with the barb directed at his father. “I’m going to take Noah away from you people now. Let us know when dinner is here.” Dixon said before nodding at Noah to follow him out.

“Close your goddamn door this time, will ya?” Luke called out from behind them. Check and mate for Papa Piccoli on this particular verbal sparring match.

Noah breathed a sigh of relief and stood up to follow JD back to his room, blushing a bright shade of red at Luke’s final jab. He’d survived though, and that’s what counted. Hopefully, that meant more kissing.

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