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sapphire374 · 3 years ago

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Soy Sol: Chapter 2 (Gossip that Spreads like Wildfire)

Wattpad Link

Ch. 1, / Ch. 3 / Ch.4 / Ch.5 / Ch.6 / Ch.7 / Ch.8 / Ch.9 / Ch.10 / Ch.11 / Ch.12 / Ch.13 / Ch.14 / Ch.15 / Ch.16 / Ch.17

Luna is stunned by what she's just witnessed. She'd never expect Matteo to be cozying up so close with a random girl, especially after everything they've been through together. Luna started having doubts and her fears just came rushing over her like a waterfall. She couldn't believe that he would do this, all because she was late

When Matteo sees that it was Luna who opened the door, he immediately got up ignoring Viviana, as if she wasn't there. "Luna, I've been looking everywhere for you. You promised you would be here for my last show and you know how important this is for me. Why were you late.... again? You even promised to watch the entire show this time." Luna just stood there, staring at Matteo. Her rambunctious thoughts were clouding her judgement. She doesn't want to think about it, yet she already is. What if Matteo is cheating on her?

Matteo's face quickly changed when he saw a depressed look on her very pale face. "Que to pasa mi amor? What's the matter my love?" Matteo asks Luna in a very worried tone. Luna shakes her head from a terrified trance. "No nothing, I just came to tell you how proud I am. The arena seemed packed with loads of people. Umm yeah and I also wanted to apologize for being late. Too late it seems." Luna tries to not think about what she noticed yet the random girl staying in the room isn't making Luna feel any better. "I'm sorry who are you?" Luna questions the girl sitting on the couch who seems to not feel bad for listening on their conversation.

"I'm Viviana Marcel. Some people like to call me a very famous actress and rising singer; but if I'm being modest, I've only been in like fifteen movies," Viviana brags to Luna, showing off. "Really. Well sorry I had to ask is just I've never seen you on TV or in anything," Luna says sincerely which brings an enraged frown onto Viviana's face. "Oh, would you look at the time, it's getting late. I don't want to arrive home late since I have a very important meeting at Laix tomorrow. You know the place where famous people work together. I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't know it since you're not, well a celebrity. Ciao Matteo, I'll talk to you later." Viviana leaves after giving a wink to Matteo.

Luna's depressed look still stays plastered on her face. That girl almost reminds her of a celebrity version of Daniela, and after everything was finally going great for her and Matteo. "Luna, your smile has disappeared all of a sudden and hasn't come back. Please tell me what's wrong. I'm always here for you," Matteo states to Luna, expressing his concern. Luna almost stutters when she says, "Matteo why is Viviana here? What were you doing with her?" Matteo instantly takes a sigh of relief because he originally thought something unpleasant happened to her. "Oh, Luna you don't have to worry about her. She's just a friend I met through Rafeal. It's okay." "Matteo what would've happened if I didn't arrive at that moment," Luna asks anxiously holding on to every word she said. Matteo hesitantly replies, "Nothing. Nothing at all."

. . . . . . . .

Next Morning

Simón and Ámbar's House

Simón wakes up in his Buenos Aires home at eight o'clock in the morning. He's surprised to notice Ámbar is not there beside him. He pulls the sheets to their new bed and marches to the kitchen. Ámbar is sitting in the dining table doing some paperwork while drinking a café con leche. This brings a large smile on his face seeing how hard of a worker his soon to be wife is. "Buenos días mi amor. Good morning my love," Simón declares to Ámbar which also brings a warm smile on her face. "So, how's the paperwork going?" Simón asks Ámbar. "Honestly, it's not looking too good. I don't know if we'll be able to keep the Jam and Roller for so long especially since Vidia is considering on selling it to this company who wants to remodel it as a club and bar. They're the ones with the highest bid and if nobody comes soon to place a higher offer... we may lost it," Ámbar reluctantly replies to Simón.

"I can't believe this. First the separation of the Roller Band, then the separation of the Roller team, and now this. The worst part is how can we even tell Luna about this? How can we tell the rest about this," Simon complains while he and Ámbar give each other worried glances. "I don't know how we should tell her but one thing I know for sure is that we need to tell her soon cause what if she finds out and thinks we were lying to her this whole time. The one thing I've learned from my previous mistakes is that lying does no good and the truth always ends up revealing itself... but we'll think about that later. Right now, let's eat some breakfast cause I have a meeting to get to. Whatever happens, we need to find a backup plan to work somewhere else while I study to become a lawyer."

As Ámbar gets up from her chair, she turns the TV on. The news channel announces, "This just in! Viviana has been spotted AGAIN being very close to Matteo Balsano, the infamous 'Quiero Verte Sonreir' artist, yesterday night at his last concert for his Alla Voy Tour. Could this mean that Matteo has a new girlfriend and broke up with Luna Valente!" Ámbar and Simón both turn their heads and look at each other, shocked by what they just saw on the news. "I can't believe it! I wonder what Luna must be thinking watching this. It's just that this doesn't even make sense. Matteo would never do such a thing to Luna and even so she would have told me by now," Simón states confusingly. Simón and Ámbar are both confused and concerned about what they have just witnessed.

. . . . . . . .

Nina's Apartment

Nina accidentally spills her coffee after hearing what she just saw on the news. Gastón hears the loud noises in the living room, so he runs quickly to Nina from the kitchen to help her. "Que paso, what happened? Are you okay Nina," Gaston asks while helping her clean the mess she made. Gastón arrived last night from his job being an engineer. The company he works at has multiple branches, so he tends to travel all around the globe to set up meetings and build all sorts of new gadgets. Nina had also arrived from Oxford after finishing the semester early. She only has one year left to graduate and can't wait to travel with Gastón as a professional writer.

"Did you hear what was on the news? Apparently, Matteo has been spotted multiple times with this girl named Viviana. News outlets think that he broke up with Luna and replaced her with Viviana. I just couldn't believe it. I was so shocked I accidentally tipped over my coffee. Sorry for the mess," Nina states to Gastón. "No pasa nada. It's okay, the stain easily comes off but going back to what happened with Matteo... is this true, en serio," Gastón wonders, hoping Nina would say a 'no, just kidding' but sadly that was not the case. "Well we don't know if he did break up with Luna but the pictures that they showed of him with Viviana look very real and very close." "Esto no puede ser. This can't be true. I'm going to call Matteo right away. We have to get to the bottom of this," Gastón vividly expresses his disbelief right before turning his head and seeing the TV screen, in which he noticed the girl that's with Matteo. He doesn't for sure know who she is, but that girl appears very familiar to him. Then, Gastón remembered who she is and quickly runs to go call Matteo. After Nina puts her mug inside the sink, she rushes to go call Luna as well.

*BTW: Thank you guys for the support you've been giving Soy Sol in the last chapter. I really do appreciate it and hope you guys like the rest :D *

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imaginesbymk · 4 years ago

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PINK + WHITE.

—chapter eight ; the flapper girl.

summary: teresa’s permanent resignation from the peaky blinders leads her to a whole new chapter of working in an art museum. but little did she know her best life would be butchered some time later when her former lover tommy shelby gives her no choice but to return to the peaky blinders after they make new enemies, with the leader, of all people, being the man teresa fell in love with one night after a wedding reception back in post world war; luca changretta.

pairing: luca changretta x OC x tommy shelby

tags in this chapter: swearing, drinking

[ chapter index / meet my oc / wattpad link ]

“TERESA, would it kill ya to quit staring at me? I'm tryna do my work here." He fumbles for the ballpoint pen that fell out of his shaky hand. Even when his eyes were down, he still felt hers following his every move when he picked up certain sheets, watching his lips curl when he read a sentence on a report from his father, or just overthinking if Teresa was judging his appearance. There's nothing on my chin, is there? Food in my teeth?

"Am I making the Italian mafioso Luca Changretta nervous?" Teresa leaned over the desk to trail her finger down Luca's chest where she could tease him by gripping the line of his blazer and rip the buttons off. "The same Italian mafioso that got some amateur in Los Angeles to beg on his knees?"

Luca didn't look up from his work. "He was trying to be sneaky and spent nearly a hundred dollars worth of gin for his mistress."

"Is that something you would do? Spend every dime to make his mistress happy?"

"I spend money on myself, to make myself look and feel good, some for business and for special occasions. But I also save," Luca glanced at her, mostly at her cleavage. "And you're not my mistress. I'm not even married. My mother wonders when I'm ever gonna tie the knot with a woman back home." Luca sighs and takes a break, resting his head for a moment. He grunts, rubbing his temple.

"Want me to take over?"

"No," Luca pulls her closer, using his other hand to set his folders to the side so carelessly. "Come here."

She obeys, allowing him to lift her up and carry her on top of his desk.

Luca kisses her. "Ciao, bella," he whispers to her. He kept going, making his way into the sensitive spot of Teresa's neck, his lips pressing against it so gently.

Teresa chuckles, feeling his hand run up her dress. "Who are you? Dracula?"

"Hm?"

"I mean you sort of look like him. You're about to drain the blood out of my neck, so you need me to be in the right position."

"Dracula draining the blood from a flapper girl, eh?"

The sounds of knocking on the heavy wooden doors made Teresa hop off the desk, thinking it was one of his men, or even his mother. She wouldn't contain the embarrassment of being affectionate and intimate with someone's son. It could possibly be the maids, but not the same ones from the hotel Luca stayed at. He fancied staying at a manor his father bought somewhere up north, his family members occupying the other rooms just a few ways down, but just spacious enough for everyone, even for a Welsh named Teresa.

Luca clears his throat and turns the knob. The servers come in with the trolley cart of a decanter and two glasses. "You ordered whiskey, Sir?"

The Italian watched the servers roll in the bar cart and nodded at him before shutting the door on their way out. "You like whiskey, amore?"

"Love all kinds of poison." Teresa walked over to the cart, picking up the vessel. She lifts the glass lid and brings it to her nose to let in a good smell. "Rich, like you."

Luca scoffs. "Yeah, if you drink out of that decanter, you'll become a part of us."

Teresa scoffs back.

"What? Teresa, becoming a soldier was like striking gold."

"I'd rather stay here and sit in the gardens, or walk around this palace wearing only my stockings."

Luca shrugged, imagining the erotic sight. It's happened before and he experienced it first-hand. "I bought you those stockings," he comments, staring down at her legs.

"I'll become a part of your family when the cows come home."

"Oh, come on! Don't gimme that. My family likes you."

"Seriously?" Teresa makes a face at him, and he responds by rolling his eyes.

"Okay, maybe it'll take some time."

"Your mother called me a brazen hussy the other day. Like what you said, she wants you to marry a woman in New York. She's mentioned a name, the woman is close with your family and she often visits at dinner parties? She came to the wedding." Teresa smirks. "She's Italian."

Luca grunts, knowing exactly who she was talking about. "Viviana."

"Signora Viviana must be the whole package."

"We consider her family, but I can't imagine marrying her," Luca shook his head, pouring himself a glass of the whiskey. "Matteo would be crushed."

Teresa was already ahead of him, nearly downing the whiskey, ready for a refill. She brings the glass to her lips, about to take in the last sip. "Do you want to get married?"

"Someday."

Teresa nodded.

"When we were at my cousin's wedding, as best man, I watched two people who were so in love exchange vows. I really felt the love my cousin had for his wife that day. And I know one day that'll happen to me. I'll marry the most beautiful bride who is my whole world. I'll be able to wake up next to her and remember how she likes her coffee in the morning."

"She'll be the luckiest wife."

"I'll treat her like a diamond."

"She'll come around. I'm sure she's somewhere out there, searching for you. Hell, she could be right on your bloody nose," Teresa jokes.

Well to be fair, the woman named Viviana was right on Luca's nose for quite some time. She shared her beautiful smile with the family, and Luca did admire her, respected her when she paid her contribution to the family. She could be waiting for him to return home as of right now, and throw her arms around the Italian so they could spend a night drinking champagne on a balcony.

Yet, Luca didn't set his lust and attention on Viviana. Not even at his cousin's wedding. Luca was picky when it came to his preferences with people, that's part of being a Changretta. But there was someone he wished his mother showed at least some respect to, a woman whose eyes light up like stars whenever Luca says her name...

Yeah, he answered to himself, watching Teresa refill her glass from the whiskey decanter. Maybe I already found her.

TERESA ran her fingers through her head, thinking about what she told Finn the other day that made the young boy rush back to Small Heath before she could settle down for her lunch break, taking her words with him. The blinds that gaped in between to let in the last bit of afternoon sun into the dark room of her office gave out the blonde locks she styled for yet another casual day. Simply walking down each corridor and back to the departments was a way to wastefully tear down the strands to her cheeks as she kept her head down so carelessly.

See what happens when you open your mouth, 'Resa? She sighs, knowing that revealing her past love to be the man that's after the Peaky Blinders would either cause high tides between her and them, or maybe even her and Luca himself, or maybe more pestering phone calls from Tommy.

Luca. He's a malicious man, she couldn't deny that. He would get his way without an issue, and if someone had to object about that, if someone were to challenge a man with such high power, would they live to tell about it? She would hate having the idea of handing the one thing she has all to herself to a man who would gladly have paintings hung in his gigantic home. The Changretta family distributes gin in and out of America with the exception of handling Alfie Solomons' rum, anyways, so why would he want to claim an art gallery all the way in Wales?

The thought of Luca threatening to put a bullet through hers or any one of her loved ones' heads sent a chill in her body. Would Luca ever do that to her? Would the Italian ever have the thought of harming someone he had a past relationship with? Would he regret it?

What was even left of Teresa's loved ones, anyhow? She wasn't as close to her team to consider them family. Perhaps one time she scolded the manager for not realizing one of their employees smoked a cigar when the gallery has a strict no smoking indoors rule, but she couldn't live with the thought of having them indirectly killed by the New York mafia. Come to think of it, she didn't have anyone, which is just as disheartening as having someone to protect. Maybe if she never got her brother killed that day—

She walks out after setting her teacup in the tiny space left open on her desk. Normally she would hear distant chatters from the tour guides speaking to the guests, or just guests speaking among each other, talking about whatever piece they lay their gaze on. But she frowned when she noticed how empty the gallery was, except for maybe five guests. Given that it's still hours in the early afternoon. Why wasn't it busy?

Teresa approaches two guides, asking the question that swirled her head. "Where is everyone?"

"I believe the gallery is in need of an upgrade." One of the tour guides spoke out, a bit of nervousness in their voice to speak up on feedback to the owner.

"Was deco not enough?"

"Most of it has already been seen, Miss."

The Welsh shook her head. "What does that even mean? The people wanted to see deco, we gave them deco. I provided rum to the guests on the grand re-opening, I made sure this place is clean and shiny from every inch of every corner. How could this place already be dead? At this hour?"

The tour guides slightly shook their heads, shrugging.

Teresa sighs. "Fine. Have any of you seen Mason?"

Mason Miller was hired on the spot when his well pressed suit and love for Rococo struck admiration for Teresa. She saw her younger self in him, almost like she was looking in the mirror of the past. Someone at a young age so passionate, she needed him as extra help.

"With all due respect, Miss Griffith, there hasn't been enough—I would say razzle-dazzle, to the place. We have a lot to catch up on, or guests will yawn and find themselves out the exit."

"Mason, this is a gallery, not a circus." Teresa scratches her neck. "It's been days since the opening. Our blood, sweat and tears shouldn't be a one time thing and dropped down to rubbish."

Her assistant shrugs. "Well, these days people don't wake up and think about visiting a gallery, y'know? You can find art deco everywhere you go; fancy dinner parties, manors. It inspires what we wear on occasions."

Teresa stares at her desk. "If Luca Changretta were to ever own this gallery, would he fix this problem? Make the place go fucking bankrupt?"

"I'm sorry, w-who? Luca Ch..." Mason asks, skimming through his clipboard of names he might have missed pinpointing and scheduling a meeting with.

Teresa looked at her assistant, realizing she spoke out her thoughts. "It's nothing. You're dismissed."

"Thank you." He smiles to himself as he bid an exit out of her office for Teresa to be back with her thoughts. Her jaw clenched. I will not let my team down, and I will not give my gallery to a mafioso.

"Actually, Mason?" the young lad stepped foot inside again, peering in with his full attention on one odd request. "Luca Changretta, that's his name. I'd like for you to find where he is at the moment and set up an invitation via letter. Let me know when he responds at your earliest convenience."

"Miss...?"

She didn't stop rationalizing it. She even settled for it faster than deciding not to ally with the Peaky Blinders. Mason Miller stared awkwardly at his boss as she set her focus back on her notepad laid on her desk. "I'd like to meet up with Luca Changretta."

+ enjoy my scene edit above! my peaky blinders editing account is @/fcknshelbys via ig.

#pink+white #tommy shelby #luca changretta #luca changretta x oc #luca changretta fanfiction #luca changretta fanfic #peaky blinders fanfictio #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x oc

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randomikemendegen · 5 years ago

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“Let’s sing a melody together, shall we~? Alright! And a one, and a one, two, three…~~!”

Name: Viviane Genov

Dorm: Octavinelle

Year: 2nd Year

Like/s:

Singing, musical instruments, vocal lessons

Children… which extends to the entire 1st-year student body

Learning and seeking knowledge

Interacting with other and new people

Dislike/s:

Restrictions

Running, being in a hurry

Stingy/“mean” people

Pain

Twisted from: No one (she’s based on a Beluga Whale)

Short Description:

A 2nd-year from the Octavinelle dormitory. Known as the “Undersea Songbird (of the Octavinelle dorm)” with perfectly good reason, as she always likes to hum a tune or outright sing— combined with her voice and personality, she’s quite popular and gets along with a vast majority of the student body. She doesn’t look like it, but she’s actually far more cunning than anyone gives her credit for.

Personality:

Viviane is genuinely cheerful, lively, sociable, and just an overall nice girl. She’s considerate enough to warn of the potential risks and consequences that might occur to any student who wants to make a contract with Azul, Jade, or Floyd— though she mostly whispers it to the poor student, or when those three aren’t in earshot. With that being said, she still willingly aids them with anything they need simply because she genuinely wants to help, along with the fact that it allows her to interact with a variety of people and do plectra of interesting tasks. Viviane also has a lot of hobbies, with most of them being related to the arts— music being her biggest interest, ranging even to playing musical instruments such as the piano; though she tells everyone her older brother is 100x better than her in playing musical instruments, even calling him an “instrumental genius”.

Though despite her near-genius level when it comes to arts and languages, she’s actually lagging behind on “common sense”, well, rather, “sense of self-preservation”. She’s air-headed and blasé to the point that she will talk to even the most sketchy-looking of people without a shred of ill-will or even fear on her face… though it sort of stems from the fact that she’s just reminded of her folks back at home, so she doesn’t think much of it; that and the fact that she’s too much of an optimist who doesn’t like to think badly of other people. However, it doesn’t mean that she’s lagging behind when it comes to grades… well, that much is true when one looks at her test scores, as they’re all in the B ~ C score range. That being said, she’s not dumb, and is actually a curious girl who likes to learn with enough interest— as such, if she really does try, then she can get straight As with flying colors. Viviane is also not actually that daft or stupid, as she quickly and very easily catches on to anything shady, and depending on her relationship status with that person then she’ll either outright ignore it or “plan it out”.

While she is a very kind if a bit ditzy girl no doubt, Viviane also displays some rather… “troubling” demeanor at times. Despite her honest and upbeat personality, she’s fully capable of lying as easily as she breathes and is 100% capable of manipulating someone to sway in her favor; the latter at times she does it subconsciously without realizing it, and at times she does consciously do it— but when she does consciously do it, she’s completely capable of laying out the scenarios the could potentially unfold after it and use it to her full advantage. Viviane is also fully capable of betraying and backstabbing other people if she doesn’t like what they’re doing, along with if it doesn’t suit with her needs anymore, though she does express some sort of guilt when she has to resort to this tactic but in the end reiterates that this outcome couldn’t be helped and only offers an apology. Combine all of this with her overall generally cute, nice, and seemingly helpful girl attitude and unless you have a keen eye for catching or detecting lies and aren’t easily emotionally affected(like Bel), or have known her long enough/are related to her(Leviotan), then be more cautious, for your own safety just in case.

Relationships:

[Will be edited in the future]

Trivia:

Her first name, [Viviane], is the French variation of the name “Viviana” or “Vivien”, which means “lively”. It is also apparently the name of the “Lady of the Lake” from Arthurian mythology.

Her last name, [Genov], comes from the infamous Genovese mafia— the oldest and largest of the “Five Families”, and was originally known as the “Luciano (crime family)”.

She’s actually an adopted child, and is the younger adoptive sister of Leviotan.

Her original and birth name was “Lorelei Delnater”; “Lorelei” comes from the high and steep slate rock and of a mermaid/siren in German folklore by the same name, while “Delnater” comes from word Del(phi)na(p)ter(us) in which the [beluga whale] is the only member of the genus classification.

Only her family and Lev call her “Lorey”, but she does tell other people whom she considers actual people she can trust and actual “best friends” about her original name and call her by the same nickname.

Viviane was also supposed to end up becoming the heir to the Genov family name due to their succession law of having a female lead the family. Though because of her adoptive status, and the fact that she vehemently rejected it(since it felt too “restraining” for her), Leviotan was chosen instead despite being a male. Both of them don’t really mind or care about this outcome in the slightest.

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salparefm · 5 years ago

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welcome aboard the amore cruiser, VAAN, BECK, VIVIANA & VALERIE. please make sure to check-in at the front desk with-in the next 8 hours. enjoy your stay! ( JUNG HOSEOK, MARK LEE, ALEXA DEMIE & JORJA SMITH ARE NOW TAKEN.)

⌇.✮。• * JUNG HOSEOK. 25. HE/HIM. ciao VAAN PARK we are so pleased to have you joining us for our first around the world voyage and in our newest ship no less! we just need you to verify some information for us just to make sure there weren’t any mix up with your survey answers, we hope you don’t mind. now it says here that you spend your days working as a BARTENDER? okay. it also says here from the survey that the one special item you’d bring with you on the ship would be SMILEY FACE NECKLACE HIS MOM AND DAD GAVE HIM BEFORE HE LEFT? that’s so sweet, we haven’t gotten many answers like that. now i also see here you said the song that would be your theme song is CYBERSEX BY DOJA CAT correct? good. we saved the best one for last here, you said one thing that not everyone knows about you is that you REDACTED? oh! don’t worry nobody else gets to see these answers but us here, so it’s safe with us. well it looks like we’ve verified everything that we need to, we can’t wait to see you at the port! (L., she/her, cst.)

⌇.✮。• * MARK LEE. 20. HE/HIM. ciao BECKETT “BECK” HAN! we are so pleased to have you joining us for our first around the world voyage and in our newest ship no less! we just need you to verify some information for us just to make sure there weren’t any mix up with your survey answers, we hope you don’t mind. now it says here that you spend your days working as a STUDENT? okay. it also says here from the survey that the one special item you’d bring with you on the ship would be YOUR GLASSES? that’s so sweet, we haven’t gotten many answers like that. now i also see here you said the song that would be your theme song is FALL AWAY BY TWENTY ONE PILOTS correct? good. we saved the best one for last here, you said one thing that not everyone knows about you is that you REDACTED? oh! don’t worry nobody else gets to see these answers but us here, so it’s safe with us. well it looks like we’ve verified everything that we need to, we can’t wait to see you at the port! (k, they/them, est.)

⌇.✮。• * ALEXA DEMIE. TWENTY-TWO. SHE/HER. ciao VIVIANA MONTEZ! we are so pleased to have you joining us for our first around the world voyage and in our newest ship no less! we just need you to verify some information for us just to make sure there weren’t any mix up with your survey answers, we hope you don’t mind. now it says here that you spend your days working as a BARISTA/ASPIRING SINGER? okay. it also says here from the survey that the one special item you’d bring with you on the ship would be RINGS FROM HER PARENTS JEWELRY COLLECTION? that’s so sweet, we haven’t gotten many answers like that. now i also see here you said the song that would be your theme song is 26 BY PARAMORE correct? good. we saved the best one for last here, you said one thing that not everyone knows about you is that you WERE REDACTED? oh! don’t worry nobody else gets to see these answers but us here, so it’s safe with us. well it looks like we’ve verified everything that we need to, we can’t wait to see you at the port! ( r, she/her, cst.)

⌇.✮。• *. JORJA SMITH. TWENTY-TWO. SHE/HER. ciao VALERIE GEORGE! we are so pleased to have you joining us for our first around the world voyage and in our newest ship no less! we just need you to verify some information for us just to make sure there weren’t any mix up with your survey answers, we hope you don’t mind. now it says here that you spend your days working as a BARTENDER? okay. it also says here from the survey that the one special item you’d bring with you on the ship would be JOURNAL? that’s so sweet, we haven’t gotten many answers like that. now i also see here you said the song that would be your theme song is THE MIDDLE BY JIMMY EAT WORLD correct? good. we saved the best one for last here, you said one thing that not everyone knows about you is that you REDACTED? oh! don’t worry nobody else gets to see these answers but us here, so it’s safe with us. well it looks like we’ve verified everything that we need to, we can’t wait to see you at the port! (d, she/her, est.)

#twitter rp #oc rp #appless rp #thank you so much for applying!#cruise rp

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viciousheart · 5 years ago

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𝐍𝐄𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄, dare speak, until the fire simmers out and the twins are left sitting in the ashes of the burnt house. freyr clings to viviana’s neck, examining the world around him for the very first time. and there are tears in viviana’s eyes. but not tears of fear --- tears of relief; relief that they’re both alive, that freyr and asta are alive. for the first time in centuries, dragons live! ❛ we did it, vie. ❜ she says, excitedly, turning her head to gaze at the dragon that is watching her just as closely, eyes big and red. ❛ ciao mio freyr. ❜ viviana speaks in the old tongue, the language of dragons and magic, as she reaches her hand over to him. the tiny dragon sniffs her fingers before taking one in his mouth and sucking on it gently.

@viciousmente

#viciousmente #𝒱 v. made of fire and flesh. ❪ verse. ❫#𝒱 pv. we are the blood of the dragon. ❪ verse / viciousmente. ❫#italian is the Old Language ok gfhdj #𝒱 they told her she was no one‚ so she became the queen. ❪ interactions. ❫

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limoneaspro-blog · 6 years ago

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Ciao...

tu sei

la Bella Addormentata nel Bosco?

No io sono

la Stronza Sempre Sveglia!

Cazzo...

com'è Cambiato Questo Bosco...

Cavez~

Model: Viviana Nardiello~

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francomonari · 6 years ago

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L'anno scorso ho vinto il Premio Nocivelli che mi ha dato l'opportunità di esporre nell'ultimo anno in quattro mostre collettive, fino alla personale di Settembre. Ho conosciuto delle persone fantastiche che fanno quello che fanno con passione. Per me è stata un'esperienza bellissima, che mi ha arricchito dentro e che porterò sempre con me.

Oggi ho smontato la mostra, finisce qui il mio percorso, ora il testimone passa alla nuova vincintrice e le auguro di godersi quest'esperienza. Voglio ringraziare con tutto il cuore Maddalena, Barbara, Carlo Clerici, Maurizio, Gloria, Alessandra, Guido, Giada, Saverio, Stefania, Matteo, Fulvio, Viviana e Claudio. Con alcuni ho trascorso più tempo, con altri meno, ma a tutti loro devo molto. Barbara e Gloria poi doppi ringraziamenti, le numero uno!

E poi ciao! allo Spazio Contemporanea, uno spazio enorme, bianco, insidioso, ma allo stesso tempo fighissimo. La mia personale DiscotecaLabirintoGrandeUnCentinaioDiChilometri

#il cielo non importa #personale a brescia

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agathaandrea · 4 years ago

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Vi raccontiamo... Storia di Malala di Viviana Mazza

Vi raccontiamo… Storia di Malala di Viviana Mazza

ciao, eccovi un altro libro raccontato dalla 4 B e da una maestra speciale….. Buona lettura:) fonte Autrice Cara Maria Cristina, Come ormai avrai capito io sono un’insegnante un po’ alternativa, mi piace molto parlare di attualità ai miei alunni, di diritti civili, di uguaglianza, di lotta al bullismo e di tutto ciò che possa un giorno renderli dei bravi cittadini di domani. Lo scorso anno…

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#amazon #bambini #bookblogger #books #festività #instabrook #letture #libri #maestre #scuola #scuolaprimaria #viraccontiamo

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robertomarzioli · 5 years ago

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Quale parte della vita di Lilly è simile alla tua? Quale parte della vita dell’autore si riflette in lei? Che rapporto ha Lilly con padre Federico? Viviana è un altro personaggio de “L’inafferrabile senso delle cose”, […] in uscita a dicembre. È un vecchio amore di padre Federico, con un passato difficile. Tutti abbiamo affrontato sconfitte, momenti di difficoltà. […] Lilly rappresenta la caduta, le ossa rotte, il buco nello stomaco, la parte maleodorante della vita, le fragilità che ci portiamo dentro e con cui dobbiamo fare i conti. Ma esprime anche la voglia di rialzarsi, di andare avanti. […] Ho costruito il personaggio di Lilly pensando a una compagna di studi che vestiva sempre di nero, a una ragazza di cui non ho saputo più nulla, a una canzone degli anni ’70, […] ad alcuni articoli di giornale. […] A quale personaggio famoso mi sono ispirato? Chi ho scelto per vestire nella mia mente i panni di Lilly? Kristen Stewart, per la pelle chiara e i capelli scuri, per quel modo di interpretare i ruoli che a me dà l’impressione di una rabbia di fondo malcelata, di una sofferenza che ha lasciato segni e da cui si desidera affrancarsi. Cos’altro c’è di me in Lilly? E quanto di te? . Alla prossima puntata, con una altro esempio, un altro personaggio. . Puoi accedere alla versione estesa di questo post all’interno del mio blog: https://robertomarzioli.it/8-tu-io-e-lilly-i-personaggi-da-come-creo-un-romanzo/ . Ti ringrazio per avermi dedicato un po’ del tuo tempo. Un filo invisibile ci unisce. Ciao! . Roberto Marzioli Vita, amore e dintorni . #robertomarzioli #linafferrabilesensodellecose #amore #vita #love #romanzo #romanzi #romanzidaleggere #leggere #lettura #scrivere #scrittura #ioscrivo #leggeresempre #libri #book #books #scrittore #scrittoriemergenti #romanzi #parole #amare #personaggi #bookstagram #bookstagrammer https://www.instagram.com/p/B5m9NZyoShV/?igshid=1fyimiml8nm52

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mangiasanodrnemi · 5 years ago

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Un “pranzetto” stellato delizioso e pazzesco dalla Chef @viviana_varese! @aliceristorante Ciao Viviana! Grazie per il trattamento super!😘 (presso Alice Ristorante) https://www.instagram.com/p/Byc5F9bIvuC/?igshid=bi4vic0zv34q

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pangeanews · 5 years ago

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Viviana Viviani, una scrittrice naïf che racconta il nostro tempo tra ipertestualità e realismo terminale

Capita sovente che per essere dei veri rappresentanti del proprio tempo non se ne debba aver coscienza. Altrimenti si diventa meri esecutori di maniera, autori che applicano pedissequamente una serie di principi codificati da sé stessi o da altri. In tal senso, l’opera narrativa e poetica di Viviana Viviani brilla proprio grazie a un suo certo intuito un po’ naïf. Non è dunque facile capire se l’autrice voglia raccontare questo mondo o se esso utilizzi Viviana come veicolo per essere trasposto. A mio avviso, la sua necessità di dire certe cose e di dirle in un determinato modo nasce in lei da uno scontro con la realtà che non lascia alternative. Ed è proprio perché la scrittrice non avverte su di sé – essendo un ingegnere – l’immane peso di una tradizione, che diventa un fardello da cui è impossibile sgravarsi, se può aprirsi alle innovazioni stilistiche che questa contingenza storica richiede per essere messa su carta. I suoi racconti, per esempio, presentano elementi di assoluta contemporaneità, spunti che potrebbero essere associati alla postmodernità o al realismo terminale (la corrente letteraria che teorizza la predominanza, nel nostro tempo, dell’oggetto sulla natura e la sovrapposizione dei popoli).

In particolare, gli scritti che presentiamo si segnalano per un abile gioco di natura ipertestuale in cui, appunto, la pagina si accompagna a video, o ad articoli di giornale – entrambi falsi, ma assolutamente verosimili. Questi costituiscono una parte determinante nella narrazione rivelando o mettendo in scena oltre il testo, in un’ottica di narrazione totale – in cui è addirittura l’autrice a farsi attrice delle sue stesse fantasie (come si vedrà nel video posto in chiusura al primo racconto). Siamo spinti così a interrogarci ancora sull’annosa questione di quanto l’arte imiti la vita e di quanto la vita sia arte. Viviana Viviani mette in scena tutto questo immedesimandosi con un assassino e una cam girl, dimostrando peraltro un’attenzione particolare, soprattutto con quest’ultimo personaggio, per le figure più rappresentative e meno esplorate di questa realtà liquida e inafferrabile che quasi nessuno si è voluto prendere la briga di raccontare. (Matteo Fais)

Calypso

Anna è sola, come ogni sera, nuda davanti allo specchio, che le rimanda il volto pallido, gli occhi piccoli, le ciglia invisibili, le labbra sottili. Raccoglie i capelli sulla nuca, perché spariscano più facilmente sotto la parrucca. La chioma scura e lucente di Calypso giace sparsa sul letto, come una grossa medusa spiaggiata.

Intinge le dita nel fard e traccia due linee rosse sulle guance, nette come i segni di guerra di certe tribù africane. Le sfuma sulle tempie, poi con l’eyeliner e il rossetto disegna sul viso scialbo grandi occhi e labbra carnose. Si avvicina allo specchio: la luce diretta della webcam, assieme a quella soffusa della stanza, farà di quella maschera un volto perfetto.

Indossa la parrucca e porta avanti i lunghi capelli neri di Calypso a coprire i seni piccoli e scarni. Così sembro proprio una ninfa, pensa. Si guarda le cosce, da sempre troppo grosse, e pensa che sdraiata di sbieco sembreranno più sottili. Indossa il push up e il perizoma e si guarda allo specchio di nuovo. È pronta.

Anche il PC è pronto, sulla sedia di fianco al divano. Anna si collega al sito. Sono già tutte lì: sexygirl, sexyeva, sexylady. Nomi tutti uguali, in un tripudio di tette e culi, alle finestre del grande condominio virtuale.

Anna digita la password ed entra nella stanza di Calypso. Si adagia sul divano, tra i cuscini, nella solita posizione ormai studiata nei minimi dettagli: stesa su un fianco e appoggiata su un gomito, le gambe leggermente piegate, le spalle appena incurvate a far apparire più florido il seno. Con una mano tiene il mouse, l’altra è libera di giocherellare con i capelli e il perizoma.

Regola il colore e il contrasto e l’effetto dei chiaroscuri regala al suo corpo spigoloso forme più sinuose e compatte. Poi clicca on e sullo schermo appare Calypso.

Calypso è la bambola perfetta che Anna non sarà mai. Calypso non sbaglia, dice le cose giuste e gode ogni volta. Poi non dimostra certo i quarant’anni di Anna, ma almeno dieci di meno.

Il primo a entrare nella stanza è jacktheripper. Lui c’è sempre, è un abitudinario.

“Ciao” scrive nella finestra della chat.

“Ciao, caro” risponde Calypso “come stai?”

In alto a destra compare il credito a disposizione: tre euro e venti centesimi. Troppo poco per portarla nella chat privata.

“Hai giocattoli?” chiede lui.

“No, oggi no” risponde Calypso “sono io il giocattolo”.

Jacktheripper inizia a caricare credito: quattro e trenta, nove e quaranta, venti e dieci. Il momento preferito di Calypso, l’erezione monetaria. Pagano per vederla nuda. Lei che, per strada, nessuno si gira mai a guardare.

La spia rossa della chat privata si accende e Calypso sfila lentamente il reggiseno, poi toglie il perizoma, lo fa scivolare a terra e inizia a sfiorarsi.

“Hai audio?” scrive jacktheripper.

Quello è il solo momento in cui Anna si vergogna, perché la voce è l’unica cosa sua che non le riesce di togliere a Calypso. Ma bisogna andare fino in fondo, così accende il microfono e inizia a gemere.

Jacktheripper fa in fretta e non ha grosse pretese: un’onesta sega al giusto prezzo di due euro al minuto.

Dopo averlo congedato, Calypso reindossa la biancheria, torna nella chat pubblica e trova duro85.

“Ciao, sei quella dell’Odissea?” scrive lui.

È uno nuovo, vuole chiacchierare.

“Sì, la ninfa Calypso, al tuo servizio”.

“E come si chiama la tua isola?”.

“Ogigia, giovane navigante”.

Quello è il solo momento in cui Anna si diverte, quando tornano fuori i suoi studi letterari, sprecati per tanti anni in un ufficio tecnico. E poi la troia intellettuale fa sempre effetto.

“E perché non ti sei chiamata Circe?”, scrive duro85. Deve essere uno studente, pensa Calypso, e sorride, o forse è Anna a sorridere.

“Perché non posso trasformarvi in porci, lo siete già”.

Duro85 riempie la finestra della chat con una risata scritta così in maiuscolo da far quasi rumore, poi se ne va. Non bisogna farli ridere, pensa Calypso. Dopo, non si eccitano più.

Alla fine arriva Ulisse. Ulisse prima aveva un altro nick, si chiamava Coito.

Una volta gli era caduta la connessione e Calypso gli aveva chiesto se era un coito interrotto, lui aveva riso ma non se ne era andato, anzi era tornato più volte. Poi aveva cambiato il nick in Ulisse, soltanto per lei.

Parlano spesso, specie a tarda ora, quando la chat pubblica rimane deserta o quasi. Anna gli ha detto anche di quell’altro suo Ulisse, che si chiama Andrea e che non vede ormai da qualche mese.

Anche lui era rimasto sette anni, proprio come Ulisse sull’isola di Ogigia. Sette anni in cui Anna non gli aveva offerto l’immortalità, ma una cena e un letto due mercoledì al mese, quando la moglie faceva il turno di notte. E al posto della zattera per il ritorno, la promessa che sarebbe stata lì ad aspettarlo, pronta a riaccoglierlo.

Le sue mani facevano sentire bello il suo corpo e questo le mancava, oltre alla sua voce un po’ roca, al suo odore di fumo e menta, all’attesa di quei mercoledì.

Tutti sanno dell’attesa di Penelope, ma di quella di Calypso nessuno parla mai. Le attese delle amanti non valgono niente e non interessano a nessuno.

Il nuovo Ulisse, quello della chat, è un informatico di quarantacinque anni, anche lui da poco rimasto solo. Ha chiesto tante volte a Calypso di incontrarsi dal vivo, ma Anna ha sempre rifiutato. Meglio continuare a unirsi così, senza rischi, senza impegni, senza l’ingombro dei corpi.

Ulisse entra in privato, ha molto credito. È sempre generoso. Apre la finestra cam dell’utente e si mostra a sua volta.

“Sei eccitata?” scrive.

“Sì, tanto” risponde Calypso, gettandogli un rapido sguardo: è grosso, muscoloso, ha un tatuaggio sulla spalla. Non mostra il viso.

Come sono stupidi gli uomini a volte, pensa Anna, si illudono di farti godere senza nemmeno mostrare gli occhi. Poi rimpicciolisce la finestra di Ulisse fino a farla sparire quasi completamente, ingrandisce la propria su tutto lo schermo e inizia a spogliarsi.

Anna guarda il corpo sinuoso di Calypso, perfetto e senza odore, luminoso come quello di una Dea. Gioca con i ciuffi della parrucca, poi scende ad accarezzare le vene appena in rilievo intorno ai seni e la peluria bionda e fine della linea alba, fino l’interno delle odiate cosce, osservando come in uno specchio Calypso che si passa le mani tra i capelli lucenti e sul corpo di porcellana, senza vene né peluria né alcun genere di difetto umano. Poi vede Calypso sorridere di gioia e si accorge di sorridere a sua volta.

Anna, Calypso e Ulisse raggiungono il piacere nello stesso istante, un attimo prima che la connessione inizi a tremare, scomponendo per un attimo Calypso in piccoli rettangoli, prima di cadere.

Ulisse e Calypso scompaiono insieme e Anna, rimasta di nuovo sola, controlla i guadagni della serata. Cinquanta euro, non male in meno di un’ora. Li sta mettendo da parte per fare qualcosa, forse un viaggio, chissà quando. Ma Anna non lo fa solo per i soldi: lo fa perché le piace essere Calypso.

Controlla le foto del profilo: in nessuna è riconoscibile.

Ha creato Calypso in poche ore e prima o poi, in un solo secondo, la distruggerà. Tasto destro, cancella profilo, conferma.

Un giorno Anna riprenderà a uscire di casa e troverà un uomo con cui andare a cena, al cinema e forse con cui vivere.

Allora Anna ucciderà Calypso, con un solo clic.

Se non accade prima il contrario.

(Vedi il video)

Il massaggiatore

Credo di poter affermare senza falsa modestia che il mio centro estetico è il migliore della città. Forse proprio perché non ho mai avuto in me la bellezza, sono diventato così bravo a riconoscerla e a custodirla nelle donne. Certo, il mio aspetto è inusuale, ma le mie clienti vi sembrano ormai assuefatte, anzi, alcune le direi persino intenerite dalla mia stranezza. Lo so, l’impatto iniziale non è facile. D’altra parte ci sono abituato, fin da ragazzino. Quando a quindici anni raggiunsi i due metri e i duecento chilogrammi pensai che il mio corpo maledetto non avrebbe mai smesso di crescere. E con esso la mia vergogna.

In più una malattia rara fa sì che non vi cresca alcun pelo, nemmeno sul viso. Nemmeno la barba, nemmeno le ciglia. Un corpo enorme, liscio, da neonato gigantesco. Non ne sopporto neppure la vista. Mi spoglio al buio. Mi lavo in penombra e non ho specchi. L’unica parte di me che riesco a guardare sono le mie mani, le dita lunghe e affusolate, i polsi forti, i palmi accoglienti. È come se in loro si concentrasse la grazia di cui tutto il resto del mio involucro è completamente privo. Sono fortunato in fondo, è l’unica parte di me che non potrei evitare di avere sempre sotto gli occhi. Guardo le mie mani e vedo bellezza, dimentico il resto e divento le mie mani.

D. arrivò un tardo pomeriggio, dopo l’università. Ricordo il suo sguardo la prima volta che mi vide. So che avrebbe voluto scappare, solo per educazione non ci riuscì. Mi piacciono le ragazze ben educate, che per gentilezza nascondono la paura che hanno di me. All’inizio era tesa, poi però si è tranquillizzata, ha capito che non costituivo un pericolo. Era serena quando si è spogliata e si è sdraiata sul lettino dei massaggi, ad aspettare le mie mani. Ora è una cliente abituale, non può più fare a meno di me.

D. è bellissima. Le mie mani scorrono sul suo corpo perfetto, dal collo alle spalle, giù lungo la schiena fino alle punte dei piedi. Poi le chiedo di girarsi e lei obbedisce. Non si vergogna di mostrarmi i seni poco più che da ragazzina. Tiene gli occhi chiusi, sorride. Le mie mani scivolano sulla sua pelle, perfezione su perfezione, senza incontrare mai un difetto, un ostacolo.

È difficile spiegare quel che provo nel massaggiare D., direi che ne traggo piacere, ma anche un senso di disturbo. È qualcosa che deve avere a che fare con la mia paura degli spazi ampi, e con il grido.

Esco di casa qualche volta, di solito quando non posso evitarlo, ma avverto subito una vertigine e poi il grido, quel grido che ho da sempre dentro di me, salire dal fondo dello stomaco, dove lo tengo rinchiuso, e arrivare su fin quasi alla gola. Ad ogni passo ho paura che venga fuori, così tutti si accorgeranno di me e mi guarderanno come io non voglio.

Qui invece, nella mia casa, nel mio centro estetico, mi sento al sicuro, so che il grido rimarrà ben intrappolato. Perché qui tutto è contenuto, accogliente, stretto addosso a me. E mi sento di nuovo come quando ero piccolo, quando sembravo ancora un bambino come gli altri, prima che il mio corpo iniziasse a espandersi a dismisura, insieme a tutto quello che ci cresceva dentro e che non potevo fermare. E quando c’era ancora mia madre.

Nemmeno le persone mi fanno paura, quando sono qui dentro, perché arrivano una alla volta e vengono per me. Solo quando sono davanti a D., allora un po’ di timore ce l’ho. Il suo splendore è come uno spazio troppo ampio in cui mi disperdo, mi acceco. La sua bellezza emana troppa luce per i miei occhi senza ciglia.

A me la bellezza piace di più cercarla negli anfratti, nei dettagli, dietro gli ostacoli. Per questo le mie clienti preferite possiedono uno o due al massimo di quelli che io chiamo nidi di bellezza.

C. ad esempio ha piedi perfetti, piccole dita bianche come perle. Quando le dita delle mie mani si intrecciano a quelle dei suoi piedi la bellezza si ricongiunge alla bellezza. Sembra impossibile che quei piedi riescano a reggere il suo corpo grosso e sgraziato, a portarlo in giro per le strade, dove nessuno mai lo guarderà con desiderio, mentre l’unica parte degna di essere vista rimane nascosta. Le dico sempre, almeno d’estate, indossa sandali alti, aperti, hai piedi così belli! E lei risponde, ma chi li guarda, i piedi di una come me?

N. è arrivata un mattino, con le borse della spesa. Ha quarantasei anni e seni di porcellana per miracolo scampati al tempo, persi in un corpo cadente e rugoso più di quanto la sua età giustifichi. Hanno risucchiato tutta la bellezza in sé, lasciando avvizzire il resto. Ma N. non li mostra, non indossa mai scollature. Teme che il fulgore dei seni non faccia che accentuare la bruttezza di tutto il resto e li nasconde. Tutto questo è davvero triste, uno spreco di meraviglia.

M. ha la schiena di seta, in un corpo ruvido come carta vetrata. Ma lei nemmeno lo sa, nessuno gliel’ha mai detto, e non lo imparerà da sola perché non ama il suo corpo e non lo accarezza mai. Tanto meno la schiena, che è nascosta e difficile da raggiungere. Ha avuto un uomo, di cui parla poco e al passato, ma pare non essersi mai accorto della bellezza della sua schiena. Ci sono persone che hanno le mani cieche.

S. è giovane, ma ha i lineamenti del viso mischiati alla rinfusa e gambe e braccia ossute come rami secchi. La sua bellezza è la più difficile da trovare, sta tutta in un quadrato di pelle sopra l’ombelico, dove una voglia a forma di nebulosa è circondata da una perfetta costellazione di nei. Un piccolo big bang, uno spazio infinito e minuscolo che solo io ho trovato.

Ci sono persone che a nessuno verrebbe in mente di spogliare, per vedere se hanno qualcosa di bello. Le mie mani invece sì, scorrono con amore e dedizione sui loro corpi inerti, e quando incontrano un nido di bellezza lo sanno riconoscere. Allora gli girano intorno, lo sfiorano, lo seducono. Poi vi si tuffano e lo possiedono, se ne impadroniscono per preservarlo, per sempre.

D. ha appuntamento tra poco. Devo dirle, in qualche modo, di non venire più. La vastità della sua bellezza mi fa soffrire. Sento già il grido che inizia a salirmi dentro.

Viviana Viviani

L'articolo Viviana Viviani, una scrittrice naïf che racconta il nostro tempo tra ipertestualità e realismo terminale proviene da Pangea.

from pangea.news https://ift.tt/2YRjYUT

#Letteratura #news #Matteo Fais #Narrativa #Racconti #Viviana Viviani

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