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sanzaibian · 11 months ago

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Life is really unjust.

My name is Killian Ndiaye, and I’m intimately acquainted with its bad side. My father died while I was young, leaving me to be raised along with my younger sisters by only my ma. We weren’t rich by any means, so it meant that my ma made ridiculous hours at her job, and that us, when old enough, had to pitch in with part-time jobs. Thankfully, I was quite an intelligent kid, and still managed to have quite good grades. However, that didn’t mean that school life was easier, as I was always labeled as the “poor nerd” in class, wearing the few simple clothes I owned and sporting the buzzcut my ma cut for me. As she always said, others just cared more about looks than about life.

However, this was not the last of my struggles, quite the countrary as it turned out that I wasn’t the cis straight man I was supposed to become. High school was formative in that sense, as it’s in there that I noticed that I wasn’t into girls like the other guys my age were, and like ma expected me to be. I… had a very hard time admitting that I was gay. Ma always told me that those “queers” didn’t know what life was like, and that they were just living carelessly, wasting their parent’s efforts… I didn’t want to wast my ma’s efforts, as I love her, yet I couldn’t hide from the truth. I’m gay, and that’s just it.

I vainly thought that I just needed not to be like “those gays”, those who live in the hairdresser’s, the clothing store and the clubs, looking all like fairies, and that everything was going to be alright. How shameful it was when, at 17, I started questioning my gender, so disconnected I feel to masculinity and other men’s experiences, and so uncomfortable I am with the facial hair that just won’t stop growing… I thought that if I just suppressed it, if I was just the most “normal” I could be, then everything was going to be alright. That perhaps, I just needed to alleviate a bit my dysphoria, and everything was going to be alright.

However, my ma is a very observant person. As I was approaching majority, she started to make comments about a girlfriend, and about me stubbornly shaving my face. I just dismissed those questions, still foolishly hoping that everything would end well.

When I was 18, she asked me whether I was gay. I couldn’t lie to my ma.

And we arrive to now, a few years later. My ma “didn’t want a fairy in her house”, so I stayed with a few friends. But when they went to college and I couldn’t, I was left to fend for myself alone. Now, I live in the streets, and spend my time alternating between finding part-time work and begging in the city. I do it whenever I need to go somewhere, and though I don’t do anything illegal – I even spend some of my meager funds on a transports card – it absolutely does not mean that I’m suddenly well-liked.

Few are those who spare any money. And on top of that, because I’m a black man, I hear plenty of racist comments. As if they thought I didn’t hear them asking me to “return to my country”, even though I’m already there… And the most depressing fact of this all is, because I can’t really shave anymore, my dysphoria is going through the roof. My life is hell, but I keep at it in the vain hope that I’ll be able to climb back to a respectable life.

However, today was especially terrible. I had found an interesting job of installing the equipment for a big concert, and actually ventured quite far from the center of the city to go to the big theater. When I arrived there, they told me that they weren’t looking for anyone, they had all the help they needed. Dejected, I left, but as I was leaving, another young guy entered. I hang out a bit to hear what was going on, and I heard that he was hired for the temporary job. I guess they thought I would steal from them or something… It’s so unfair ! I love music, and at school always wanted to do something that had a link to it ! I was so hyped to work in this job ! I thought that if I worked hard enough, people would even notice me and my good knowledge of the equipment, and would consider me as a good partner for further work ! But, as ever, all those dreams were, once again, cut short…

On the way back, I started begging, but as I reached the back of the first bus, I saw what looked like a man in a dress, wearing makeup and nail polish, being harassed by an older-looking woman.

“(…) and any sensible person ! How do you expect me to do nothing while a pervert is preparing to go to women’s bathrooms and assault girls ? You should be ashamed of endangering others ! - Miss... please stop… I swear I won’t do anything bad…” The person in a dress said, clearly on the brink of tears. - And how can I trust you ? I know you snakes, you’re just saying this to then go and continue your business unharmed !”

As she was about to continue harassing that person, I decided I needed to step in. I want there to be justice at least somewhere, even if it can’t be in my life. I step between her and the person in a dress, and ask calmly :

“Miss, please stop. They are clearly really hurt by your comments, and everybody around us is uncomfortable with this display.” I say, as I watch everyone else looking away, as if nothing’s happening. Courage shines ever so hard… - Oh, now a beggar is coming ? You should go back to your country or find a goddamn job rather than profiting off of our hard work !” She said, clutching her designer bag, as if I was going to steal it. - Miss, these comments are really racist. Please stop.” I stay, choosing to remain calm and composed. - What, can’t I say what things are ? That’s really all the wokist’s fault, nowadays we can’t say anything, we have to walk on eggshells at all times ! I’m not racist, but if you want racism to stop, you have to stop overreacting at everything !”

She looks at me with a smug look, as I’m about to lose it. I can’t answer anything, because, unfortunately, one can’t argue out of nonsense ! Especially someone like me who’s not trained in rhetoric – I had part-time jobs at the time ! … at least, I can shield that person with a dress from further harassment. I look behind, and see them smiling to me, thankful for my help. If I can help at least one person, I’ll be happy.

Suddenly, the sound of thunder rings in my ears.

No one seems to be bothered by it, save for the old woman who seems to be just as uncomfortable as I am. I turn to see the person I was protecting, however their eyes glow an unnatural color… What��s- Before I can even try and understand what’s happening, a headache strikes, and I instinctively put my hand on my face. Fuck, I hope I haven’t gotten a cold or something, medication is hard to come by…

As I’m holding my face, a few fingers make their way in my beard (ugh). But suddenly, I feel it shifting. Intrigued, I touch my beard more thoroughly, and feel the hairs receding, growing smaller and smaller, until they finally come back under my skin. How did that happen ? I mean, I like not having a beard, but still, it’s not normal… I look in front of me and it seems that the woman is losing wrinkles. What’s happening !

The bus stops. Quite a few people leave. Why was I here ? … yes, I had to do something with the people on it… was it work ? I don’t quite remember… However, as I look around me, I suddenly notice that the people who looked away previously looked a little bigger. As if they were… bulking up ? As I notice that, I feel pain on my body. When I look down, it seems that my undernourished body looks more healthy… No, not just healthy, it looks… muscular ? I’m… inflating, somehow ?

The bus starts again, yet this time, its course seems smoother… I look in front of me and notice that the old – now young – woman’s hair is now tied up in a bun. Almost instinctively, I take my hand to my hair, and feel it moving. What was a short messy afro is growing, however, something even weirder happens. As it grows, I feel strands joining, growing into large spirals. It’s no longer a sponge-like mass, it’s more like… coils ? My hand presses less and less. I need to be careful about my hair, I don’t want to have to go to the hairdresser again !

I stop myself at my thoughts. Hairdresser ? They’re a waste of time ! Only those who don’t care about life – or don’t have to care about life – go to those and try to look good. Yet… it feels good. No, actually, it feels... right… Like, it’s right to want to look good ? I mean, look at me, I have muscles, I have good hair, I look good ! Suddenly, I feel my t-shirt straightening and softening. I look down as its color drains, and it splits in the middle. I smirk, and as the collar hardens and folds, I open it the shirt up to the middle of my chest, right as buttons materialize.

The woman in front of me, now sporting a much more formal costume, sighs and gives me a black jacket. I take it and put it on expertly on top of my dress shirt, fitting it right down to the belt holding my dark jeans. She then sits on one of the seats, more in the front of the bus. She really looks stylish, as one should… after all, fashion is the be-all and end-all ! One of the other passengers comes to me, quite a muscular guy dressed in a black suit, and starts putting makeup on me. I close my eyes as foundation, concealer, mascara, and tattoos are put on my face and body. I can do it all myself, but having a professional do it is always better. That’s why I always go around accompanied.

I suddenly open my eyes. What the hell is happening ! I don’t have a tattoo ! I don’t do makeup ! Hair and clothes suffice ! ... I scratch my shaved sides, until I reach my earrings. Yeah, it suffices… good hair, good clothes, good makeup and good accessories… it suffices…

“Are you good, Mx. Ndiaye ?” The makeup artist asks me. - Yes, don’t worry, I’m good.” I say, with a deep yet feminine voice. It seems wrong somehow… - Do you want to see the results ? - Of fucking course !”

The makeup artist grabs a pocket mirror and holds it to me.

Oh yeah, I’m so fucking gender ! Plus my necklaces oozes fanciness. Like, it makes me look so fucking rich ! I look around me. The vehicle somehow seems more… cramped, even though at the same time it seems more spacious, with its large seats. My head hurts, it really feels like something is wrong…

Suddenly, the limousine stops. Annoyed, I shout to the chauffeur :

“Magdalena ! Why the hell are you stopping ? We’re not at the villa yet !”

The chauffeur looks back. Wasn’t she an old grumpy woman just now ? She looks so young and has such fancy clothes, even though it’s quite clear that she isn’t from high society.

Ugh, my head really hurts...

“I’m sorry, Mx. Ndiaye, we have new guests to pick up at your request.”

I look around and see that person with a dress leaving. Suddenly, it all comes back as a flash of light. I’m not supposed to be an ultra-rich person, I don’t need all of these fancy clothes and accessories ! … I’M SUPPOSED TO BE ON THE STREETS !

That person, as if they were reading in my mind, answers in a rich and deep yet slightly unsettling feminine voice :

“You have the gratitude of the calamities, Mx. Ndiaye. Accept this… gift.” They say, smiling as they get out, followed by the makeup artist and one of my two personal guards – the other staying at the front of the vehicle.

Suddenly, it’s as if a fog descends on my mind. Like, what was I thinking about ? Oh, yeah, I was thinking about my next song that I’ll film in the villa ! Ugh, it’s so annoying that my agent asks me to pump out banger after banger like, I have all the money in the world… but I guess it’s alright to work a little. This way, I get famous and get laid, and that’s the only thing that really matters. As I’m about to shout on the chauffeur to ask why she’s not turning the limousine back on, two guys, a cute twink and hot hunk, climb aboard. I lick my lips. It’s gonna be a great night.

“So, guys,” I say, letting them take place in my arms at my right and my left. “have you heard of my new song that’s gonna come out ? If you’re good enough, I might even let you in in the filming for the clip…”

And the limousine sets off.

The sun comes to my eyes, and I wake up in a giant luxurious queen bed, with my two conquests sleeping tight at my left and my right.

I smile as I get up, naked. Yesterday’s clothes were flung in all directions, and as I approach them, I see they’re all crumpled. I chuckle. We had a ton of fun last night… Besides, Magdalena’s gonna be the one to pick that all up. I take from the closet a nice pair of white pants and a white shirt, and put them on quickly. I go to the balcony, and look at the view.

Life is really unjust.

I get to live the perfect life, while others are left to pick up the remaining pieces.

But when you’re on its good side,

Life is fucking lit.

#male transformation #male tf #nonbinary transformation #nonbinary tf #nerd to jock #nerd to himbo #jock tf #himbo tf #douche tf #dumber tf #mental change #reality change #transformation #tf story

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buckshct · 2 months ago

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... introducing : TRISTYN BUCKLEY , a once mischievous rascal and country boy turned culinary student in hopes of redemption & being everything his brother wanted him to be. ©

NEW DAY, NEW MONEY TO BE MADE.

HINTS OF : empty beer cans discarded in the trash, dirty aprons, rowdy nights had with friends and family, guns and gators, hand rolled cigarettes, sleeping in the back of pick up trucks, weekends spent hunting as the family outing, tatted hands covered in cuts and bruises, hanging out the window of a truck while high, do whippets and drive, calloused hands covered in flour, picking up extra shifts to make ends meet, treasure box full of the leftover butts of joints, the insistent ache for redemption & a failed man's second shot at life.

... statistics .

also known as: buck, tris. zodiacs & birthdate: sagittarius, rat. december 19, nineteen ninety six. birthplace: tampa, florida. hometown: wauchula, florida. gender & pronouns: cis man, he / him. occupation: student @ riverside community college, line cook @ main street diner, cook. location: stonehaven, indiana. sexuality & preference: closeted bisexual, loosely [?] monogamist. spoken languages: fluent in english only. accent: southern.

... appearance .

6'2. tall and lanky in a way that would be awkward if he didn't carry himself with such confidence. black locks are cut into a mullet. pale skin adorned in multitudes of tattoos ━ some are just meaningless, but most have a crazy story behind them. style generally consists of stuff he's acquired from his brothers over the years and thrifted items. wife beaters, basketball shorts, various band tees he'll layer over long sleeved shirts, multiple pairs of jeans he'll layer with a simple black belt. will usually keep things cheap and casual.

... mental .

tw death.

positive: principled, thick-skinned, capable. neutral: sarcastic, insouciant, daring. negative: aloof, hedonistic, absent-minded. (un)diagnosed with: attention deficit hyper disorder, clinical depression. definitely has some underlying issues regarding his deceased brother, but he absolutely will never properly address it. phobias: failure, trypophobia. aura color: mauve personality type: tba. alignment: chaotic neutral.

... family .

tw death & drugs.

ɪ. bill buckley & pamela boone buckley [ 51 & 49 ] : teens when they originally had their first child, they did the best they could with the circumstances they were given. tristyn loves his parents which is why he found himself running back to ma and pops after the heartbreaking news of his brothers death. they aren't bad parents, if you ignore the extensive drug use they allowed under their roof. ɪɪ. alex & madison buckley [ twins, both 31 ] : tris' relationship with these brothers has�� always been generally the same. since he was a baby, they always kind of viewed him as the puny little guy tm and treated him as such ━ pulling pranks on him, influencing him to do the wrong things, etc, up until tristyn left for college the first time. things calmed down after jace's death, that's when they started viewing tristyn as a man who's time deserved to be cherished and not just their dumb little brother. ɪɪɪ. bryson buckley [ 28 ] : there has always been a sense of jealousy that's lingered between the two. maybe it's because they are so close in age, or maybe it's because tristyn seemed to be the only one out of his siblings with the potential to make it somewhere. growing up, they were always in game of tug of war, fighting tooth & neck for sparse parental attention. things were different after jace's death, though. the two became closer as tristyn began engaging in drugs & the partying, bryson was the one introducing him to it. ɪᴠ. jace buckley [ deceased, would be 33 ] : this man's ride or die!! his safe haven, his mentor, true older brother core!!! truly guided tris to the right path because he saw something in him. his death fucked tristyn up, and rightfully so. likely won't speak about jace unless prompted, but he is always thinking of him. ᴠ. deirdre wu [ 24 ] : his cousin on his mother's side. regarded her and her family as pretentious. was never really into the whole believe in god or go to hell gimmick. now? he's indifferent towards her, doesn't like nor dislike her. family is family, regardless.

... dossier .

tw death, drugs, addiction, & car accidents.

he is the youngest child of five siblings, all boys. he generally had a typical southern "florida man" upbringing. he's close in age to all of his brothers. dad was a mechanic, and his mom tried to find work wherever she could but most of the time she was tending to him and his brothers. nicknamed "buck" or "young buck" due to being the youngest out of all his brothers, he was a bit mischievous in his childhood. his naivety as a kid led him to eagerly engage in whatever antics his brothers were up to. he developed a close relationship to his eldest brother, jace, who was deadset on leaving the town behind and doing something with himself. jace tried to instill this mindset into tristyn, wanting to push him onto the right path. when stuck in a small recluse country town with not much to do besides hunting & church - going, those around him turned to hard drugs to keep themselves busy. it was introduced to him when he was just a boy. the smell of cigarettes was burned into his clothes from a young age. cousin's would come over high out of their minds, rolling. it was hard to ignore, hard to escape. would've probably fell into bad habits early on, if not for his eldest brother's guidance and belief in him to be better than their environment. tristyn began making decisions under the pretense jace wouldn't want me to do that. well into his adolescence, tristyn pushed himself to work harder while his other siblings ( with the exception of jace ) began to fall into bad habits. jace went on to enlist in the army, leaving home, but his influence on tristyn still greater than ever. tristyn graduated high school with flying colors, earning an academic scholarship to university of miami where he was looking to study chemistry. death tw. two months after tris left home for school, his older brother jace died while deployed in the military. the news of this had tristyn taking the semester off and running back home to lick his wounds and spend time with his family. he figured he'd take time to grieve, then try to focus on school once his mentality recovered from the heartbreak of the tragedy. addiction tw. back in his hometown, he was met with the same problems he had desperately tried to run away from. only this time, with the death of his brother devastating his family, he did not have the same resolve he once held. tristyn easily fell victim to the hardcore activity that surrounded him. whether it was xans, weed, alcohol, if he was offered it ━ he was doing it. this transformed into a budding addiction that was only encouraged by his siblings and his friends. if he wasn't able to get his hands on something, he was doing bad.

he ultimately decided that college was no longer in the cards for him, as if his brother's death was a sign. he eventually got a job as a line cook at a local restaurant to help his family with rent ... and to fund his growing drug problem habit. he also began taking frequent trips to miami with his brothers and friends to engage in various activities : parties, festivals, whatever involved getting lit out of his mind. anything to make him forget and bury his grief. he even considered moving back to miami because the party life became so appealing to him. obviously extremely unrealistic for the job and status he held, but it's a testament to how badly he wanted to avoid his emotions. he spent years indulging in whatever hedonistic activity his brothers would suggest, totaling his life down the drain, purely seeking out adrenaline. stayed living in the confines of his childhood bedroom, no dreams or goals to be had. just him, his pipe, and the moon. and life was good, as good as it could've been after the death of his brother. not like he could really feel much with all the drugs he'd take. car accident tw. and then, there it was ━ the inevitable crash and burn that comes with excessive drug use. his spiral. on the way back from a trip to miami with his brothers, tris ( in a drunken and dazed state ) lost control of the vehicle, crashing into another driver. and they were spiraling. everyone survived but the severity of the accident sent him and his brothers to the hospital. that was his wake up call, the realization that he was dangerously too deep in the rabbit hole. so he made some changes, put all his time into working, tried his best to stay as clean as he could ( he's not perfect! ) and put money aside for his end goal. stonehaven. a small quiet town with opportunities that caught his eye. he just knew he had to get away from wauchula, from florida. desperate to break the cycle he kept repeating. all his time spent as a line cook led him through a journey of self discovery. that's how he found himself pursuing an associate's degree in his recently discovered passion: culinary arts.

... headcanons .

ɪ. one of his favorite memories during his prime years is sneaking into rolling loud miami with his brothers while high out of his mind. he can barely recall all of his memories from the day as he was severely cross - faded, but from what he can remember? he had a blast. ɪɪ. hardcore icp fan, like he's die hard. not in a crazy BEAT DOWN way, but it's in his blood. would do his best to save money in order to attend the gathering with his brothers. did this yearly without fail, until he decided to pursue education again. ɪɪɪ. he's reformed ... but you can take the weed away from the man, you can't take the man away from his weed! still smokes weed heavily after his move, whether it's vapes, dab pens, bongs, or blunts + cigarettes but he believes it doesn't count! he isn't completely cold turkey off of all the crazy shit. would probably still do something harder if offered, but the first step is acknowledgement ... but if ANYTHING, he smokes more weed since the move because he isn't really doing much else ɪᴠ. very resourceful. hours spent in the kitchen has to amount to something ( he's a culinary arts student, damnit! ) can hunt efficiently if given the proper tools. also knows how to start a fire from nearly nothing. perks of being raised by rednecks, countless camping trips had as a child ... call it trashy but talented? this is a wip. will add more upon further development. :D

... wanted .

ɪ. a smoking buddy? ...which is kind of silly hhdhfhhsj but i just imagine he has a whole stash ... so someone he shares his stash with? idk this can be expanded on ɪɪ. a partner in crime? kind of similar to smoking buddy, only this is someone who he's friends with outside of that. someone he'd shoot the shit with, bond over shared interests, etc. ɪɪɪ. a hookup? someone who he hooked up with in his first semester ... definitely weird vibes, stolen glances, avoidance, etc. just give me mess!! ɪᴠ. a hometown friend? doesn't have to be someone exactly from wauchula ... just in the florida vincinity. he was all around just doing bullshit so he could've met anyone under any circumstance. ᴠ. a classmate? anyone who's in his remedials ... or maybe someone with the same major as him ... could also be a study buddy! ᴠɪ. literally anything ... he hasn't been in stonehaven for long but he kinda just be doin stuff so anything could work !

#* ’ 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑠 ﹕ intro .#sh:intro #can u tell i kinda rushed ...

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hollisjones · 4 months ago

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[HOLLIS JONES. 36. CIS MALE. HE/HIM] is here! They’ve lived in Asbury Park for [3 YEARS] and are originally from [BOSTON, MA]. They are a [SCRAPPER/SCAVENGER] and in their downtime love [PERUSING THE BAKERY’S DUMPSTER] and [URBAN EXPLORATION]. They look a lot like [SKEET ULRICH] and live in [OAKDALE]. The song that makes people think of them the most is [BATHTUB BY THE FRONT BOTTOMS].

Biography. (TW: Death, guns, mental health)

Hollis' childhood is a messy blur of bouncing between foster homes. He was a nervous child, but the constant changing situations eventually hardened into apathy and a feeling of helplessness. By the time he aged out of the system, he had very little formal education, unable to properly read or write and found it impossible to hold down a job. His life spiraled into homelessness, surviving off handouts and dumpster diving.

During this time, Hollis met Calliope, a young woman in a similar situation. They formed a close bond, with Hollis falling in love with her, but never having the courage to say anything about it. For a while, they made the best of their circumstances, finding solace in each other. However, it wasn't to last as when Hollis managed to get in trouble with the wrong crowd, a stray bullet meant for him struck Calliope instead. Too paralysed by fear, he hid rather than helping her, and by the time he returned, she had already passed.

Hollis fled to Asbury Park, haunted by guilt and the memory of Calliope's death. He now lives in a tiny apartment in Oakdale, though, he's barely ever able to keep the lights on. He spends his days rooting around in abandoned buildings, trying to strip them of copper to sell. He wants to be more than he is, but, it's all he's ever known how to be. Plus, now there's a part of him that doesn't think he deserves any better after how he treated Calliope.

Possible connections. Honestly, I'm up for anything, but, here's a few weird things that comes to mind...

Hollis is constantly rooting through the dumpsters of a cafe/restaurant. A staff member takes pity and begins leaving out leftovers at the end of the night. Now. coming to rely on it, they get to talking, slowly getting closer over a series of short interactions every night or so.

Hollis broke into their house, but, after the initial confrontation, they just kind of felt bad about it. He wasn't taking anything important and no charges were filed. They keep seeing him around town and want to say something, but, it's still kinda awkward.

Hollis protected or helped them in some way, maybe scaring off trouble or returning a lost item. However, before they could thank him, he ran away. They want to thank him properly, but, they have to convince him to hang around first.

Hollis has been seen multiple times in their nice neighbourhood and they aren't too happy about it. They should really say something and try to herd him away before he brings trouble.

Also eternally welcome to any and all friendship/romance/enemies plots and just general drama!

I'm also always happy to recieve DMs to plot or just have a natter, so please feel free to get in touch anytime. :D

#asburyintro #Hollis #guns tw #shooting tw #mental health tw #death tw

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your-l0nely-star · 6 months ago

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—— 𝐝𝐢 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 & 𝐝𝐢 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐨.

—— levi ackermann x reader.

# uso della lingua italiana perché .. why not?

fem!reader, fluff, a little bit of smut. reader is younger than levi.

levi ha trent'anni, un'ossessione per il pulito e la pazienza infinita per tollerare hange zoe, i piani strampalati di erwin e, dulcis in fundo, i - non più — mocciosi della squadra, ora più alti e barbuti rispetto a qualche anno fa.

è una giornata semplice, di quelle dove è piacevole uscire, mangiare un boccone e fingere che la città non possa essere presa d'assalto. è uno di quei giorni dove levi si lascia sprofondare goffamente sulla sedia in legno, il capo piegato all'indietro e la cravatta allentata, gli occhi socchiusi: i ragazzi devono essere usciti, oggi c'è riposo per tutti, persino per eren, martire di hange. forse sono tutti fuori, nessuno è ai dormitori, eppure .. un profumo delizioso invade le narici di ackerman, il quale corruccia la fronte li dove si vanno a formare poche rughe; chi è il matto che sta cucinando? e che cos'è questo fastidioso odore d'incenso che si fonde alla fragranza di vaniglia e dolciumi?

si tira su, le gambe snelle lo trascinano fino la stanza opposta, le finestre sono spalancate ed il sole picchia sul legno antico del pavimento, se solo non fosse così cosciente della sua essenza, levi potrebbe pensare di star sognando. passo dopo passo, silenzioso come solo un sicario saprebbe essere, s'introduce nella cucina e si poggia contro lo stipite della porta. avrebbe dovuto immaginarlo, avrebbe dovuto sospettarlo, che proprio Lei fosse rimasta nei paraggi dei dormitori. Lei, lei che non ha un nome, perché levi detesta pronunciarlo, detesta il modo in cui le vocali danno aria alla bocca e le consonanti invece s'arrotolano dalla lingua al palato, pruriginosa, tremendamente bella, spigolosa e morbida tutto assieme e soprattutto giovane, pura. è stato erwin ad accorgersene per primo, durante una spedizione, quando colti di sorpresa dal corazzato il cavallo di Lei è stato maciullato da un gigante di livello speciale e si è ritrovata a colpire con la testa un masso; levi ackerman è un uomo con la testa sulle spalle, lo sa di dover sacrificare i suoi compagni e persino sé stesso, ma Lei, Lei no, un fiore ancora in procinto di sbocciare, troppo giovane per avere le ginocchia sbucciate in quel terriccio. era corso indietro a riprenderla, rischiando di mandare a puttane l'intera spedizione sotto lo sguardo incredulo dei cadetti. levi si era giustificato appena, strafottente: "non possiamo perdere altri cadetti capaci" ed aveva chiuso il discorso, consapevole che erwin non c'avesse creduto neanche un attimo.

"cosa stai facendo?" la voce dura risuona nella cucina e Lei sobbalza, si tiene al bancone malandato ma perfettamente pulito, ha i capelli legati ai lati da un nastro bianco, i fianchi appena più larghi dello standard delle giovani donne del paese ed occhi grandi, pallida come se fosse malata ma sorridente.

“non l’avevo vista, capitano levi. sto preparando una torta, i rifornimenti in città questa volta sono stati appena più generosi ed ho pensato di cucinare il dessert per tutti noi. ”

e levi schiocca la lingua, non sorride ma fa un accenno e piuttosto si avvicina, passo dopo passo pare di varcare qualcosa di insormontabile, un confine che non dovrebbe essere neanche guardato da lontano, perché se eren yeager ha in mente di guardare cosa c’è oltre le mura, levi invece si tortura affinché non guardi oltre sé stesso ed il suo autocontrollo.

e c’è Lei, ancora, che fissa il capitano con un’espressione imbarazzata, le gambe di gelatina nel pensarsi stupida di fronte ad un uomo così affascinante e di pugno.

“ sei fin troppo generosa coi tuoi compagni, sei sempre così? “ non dovrebbero essere neanche affari suoi, ma come si può non farle domande?

“ uh — ” e Lei arrossisce, l’incenso pizzica il naso di entrambi e la giovane è fin troppo svelta nel correre a spegnerlo con un soffio, poi prosegue: “ sono felice qui, ci sono tutte le persone a cui voglio bene.. e mi piace renderle felici. ”

dolcezza di ragazza, ha le guance rosse ed il capitano Levi vorrebbe affondare i denti dove non è concesso, lambirne la pelle e stringerla ossessivamente, custodire quella grazia di donnina in una campana di vetro. il solo pensiero gli fa stringere i pantaloni.

“ vorresti rendere felice anche me? ” levi non ci pensa neanche, pronuncia quella frase così, con tono beffardo, le mani in tasca e la schiena dritta, una provocazione che forse Lei non coglie, perché sbatte le palpebre alcuni secondi prima di comprendere.

“ ..sì, certo che vorrei, lei è il capitano Levi e — ”

“ taci. ”

si avventa su di lei con il cuore in procinto di esplodere, l’irruente foga di chi per anni ha trattenuto quel fastidioso sentimento, qualcosa di paragonabile ad un pizzicotto che viene dato sempre sullo stesso punto e che poi diventa insopportabile come la punta del coltello che sfrega sulla ferita ricoperta di sale. levi è più alto di lei, le stringe i fianchi, affonda le dita tra le scapole ed il fondoschiena, una mano si chiude attorno la nuca di Lei.

tutto così sbagliato, tutto così inconcepibile, inammissibile, per il Capitano.

ma per Lei, per gli occhi immensi e quella bocca al sapore di panna e vaniglia, il capitano andrebbe persino all’inferno.

e Lei non se ne lamenta, anzi, ansima, si stringe al corpo del maggiore e pronuncia frasi sconnesse: non lasciarmi, ti ho aspettato tanto, ma allora mi vuoi anche tu? anche tu?

sì, sì che anche levi la vuole, l’ha sempre voluta, la ragazzina dai capelli lunghi che non sapeva usare il movimento tridimensionale, la stessa che cucina torte alla panna e sbatte con la tempia contro un masso durante la spedizione, la stessa che risponde a tono ma non comprende subito un doppio senso.

Lei, che ora giace a gambe aperte sul tavolo e le iridi si riempiono di lacrime, gli dona quell’involucro prezioso che per anni ha preservato per donarlo a qualcuno che avrebbe amato davvero, Lei che ora ficca le unghie tra le clavicole di quell’uomo che da sempre le tormenta i sogni, i giorni, contamina i suoi respiri, ed ora che Levi è sul suo corpo può osservarlo dal basso, può scoprire la meraviglia del suo respiro affannoso, il profumo della sua pelle e gli addominali scolpiti e lisci, le braccia forti ma mai violente con lei, la mascella contratta e dentro di sé c’è il mondo.

sotto di loro, il tavolo si sporca di liquidi, gocce di sperma e sangue, sono ingordi e si aggrovigliano, si divorano a vicenda e Levi ammette di star amando. la ama, la ama terribilmente, potrebbe morire per amore di quella ragazzina dai capelli lunghi, gli stessi che s’appiccicano sul suo seno e contro il petto di Levi.

il loro apice arriva come una lingua di fuoco, levi gode, Lei piange un po’, perché fa male, ed allora lui le bacia la bocca soffice con la tenerezza di chi ha ricevuto troppe frustate dalla vita.

levi si accascia sui suoi seni tondi, li bacia, bacia le clavicole, il collo, il mento, la bocca, prende aria ma è insaziabile di quel viso di caramella salata, le lacrime vengono rigettate dalle ciglia.

“ ti ho fatto male, non è vero? ” la sua voce è calda, il mondo pare essersi fermato e non è più mattina, sarà forse pomeriggio, dove il soffice sole diventa arancio ed illumina i loro corpi bagnati.

Lei tira su col naso, una vita di pugni e lavoro non l’hanno mai resa arida, solo diffidente, e oggi invece si sente di aver trovato casa, di essere piena d’amore.

“ fa sempre tanto male? così? ” chiede Lei, il pugno chiuso asciuga le lacrime da uno zigomo e ritorna a guardare il capitano, intento ora ad accarezzarle quelle guance irritate con occhi buoni, con la preoccupazione di averle fatto male. vorrebbe insegnarle tutto.

“ no, bambina, ti insegno io. ti piacerà di più, lo prometto. ”

Lei annuisce, lo stringe forte, la panna montata nel vassoio pare divenire liquida e l’incenso è del tutto consumato sul bancone grande.

levi non indossa più una maschera, il bambino fragile dentro di sé è inondato d’amore, è pieno di quella donnina e forse soffrire ne è valsa la pena, perché adesso è in paradiso.

#attack on titan #aot #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot x you #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman smut #levi smut

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sayitaliano · 1 year ago

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Ti posso chiedere di raccontare/spiegare questa parte del monologo di Teresa Mannino sulla linguistica? Spero che ci sarà un video tagliato del suo monologo qui ma intanto sono sicura di non aver capito tutto

Ciao! Più che altro non ho idea di cosa sia successo perché sono andata a dormire praticamente dopo Russell Crowe lol Cerco di farmi un'idea su Raiplay (x) e poi vedo cosa dirti.

Provo a farti un riassunto, poi mi dici se c'è qualcosa su cui devo soffermarmi di più, se ti serve?

To start with, after a few jokes, she says that mentally we are stuck into the 5th century bc. In fact, as a philosopher back then, men (mankind) believe that everything that exists is for them. She then compares the word uomo (man) with donna (woman): in Italian "uomo" can be used both for mankind and male/masculine gender. So she asks "why man? (perché uomo?), we could say human kind or human animal" and states we're animals as well. We also have our DNA for the 70% similar to bananas and for the 98% to monkeys and primates in general (other jokes in between).

(I think this is the point of your question but anyway let me know) As humans, since we speak languages to communicate (while other animals/plants have other methods), we feel superior. And she basically says: "that's the same feeling that we Sicilian people have when someone from the North (Milan/Piedmont...) comes to Sicily, we speak to them in Sicilian and if that person doesn't understand we think that they're stupid: but it's not so, this person speaks another language. So we keep repeating the same sentence in Sicilian hoping the northerner will understand suddenly". She adds a sample sentence in Sicilian (don't ask me to write it cause I have no clue I speak another language as she said but it could be something like "cuccu cammini co' e arance 'n terra" BUT IDK what I did for sure I wrote it wrong) and says: "Even if we translated this sentence, it has no meaning anyway" and then asks Giletti (tv host, from Biella, Piedmont) to translate it (he asks for help to someone near him). She explains that sentence: "cu ccu" are two words that have different meaning just to confuse everyone better, and they mean "with whom" (con chi) and asks Giletti to repeat to help him learn Sicilian. The sentence translated sounds like "Con chi cammini con le arance che stanno per terra?" (with whom you walk with the oranges that are on the ground?). And indeed generally has no meaning but for Palermitani (people from Palermo), it means "with whom you walk with oranges that are fallen cause are rotten" -> who do you hang out with, rotten oranges = bad people? So she adds "It's pretty complex to get and one can understand it only if they have done a thesis on Camilleri (famous Sicillian author/writer who created Il Commissario Montalbano), but even with this background, we say that that person from the North is stupid".

She goes back speaking about the other ways of communication that plants and animals use and focuses on baboons that in order to cheer each other, they squeeze each other's... masculine genitals. "They acquire all the infos they need through that 'it's young' 'they will collaborate' (adds more fun stuff)". Then speaks about ants (formiche tagliafoglie= cutleaves?), and adds they're the smarter of all: "they pick up seeds as we used to do and have huge nests in which they cultivate mushrooms. They have been farming for 50 millions of years and didn't ruin anything we've been farming for 10.000 and have destroyed our planet. They were here when there were dinosaurs and survived the meteorite". So she says "Let's copy them, how does their society works? They're basically all female with a "mother queen" and a bunch of males. The "mother queen" decides the gender of the new borns and it's basically all females, except for a male or so every year for continuing the specie and nothing else." She adds a bunch of fun notes on this, how useful it is for them when it comes to exes and how happy male ants may be. "On the contrary, human animals prefer power ON other humans, men, women, childeren, nature... I like power too, but power OF laughing, making people laugh, dressing how I want, dancing on the street even if I embarass my daughter..." and ends by saying something like "if some stories/situations are still present maybe it's not time to ignore them and move on".

#traduzioni #sanremo #sanremo 2024 #italian language #languages #it #sanremo2024 #langblr #italian #italian langblr

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celebrityskinz · 2 months ago

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(callum turner, cisman, he/him) ⎯ leopold “leo” pembroke has been a resident of roseton for the entirety of his living years. around the town , the thirty-four year old head of pembroke security firm has been given the nickname, the wiseacre . i think it's because they are eloquent , but also condescending . echo is said to know that ! [ glasses, dark academia, loser bf ]

FULL NAME LEOPOLD " LEO" PEMBROKE. NICKNAME(S) LEO. AGE THIRTY-FOUR. GENDER CIS-MAN. PRONOUNS HE/HIM. SEXUALITY HETRO-SEXUAL.

PLACE OF BIRTH ROSETON, MA.

OCCUPATION HEAD OF PEMBROKE SECURITY FIRM.

EYES BLUE.

HEIGHT 6’2.

BUILD LEAN & LANKY.

WARDROBE LEO DRESSES WITH SOPHISTICATION YET CASUALNESS, HIS GLASSES IS ALMOST ALWAYS ON HIS FACE WHILE THE TONES HE WEARS ARE NEUTRAL.

SPEECH + CADENCE DEEP VELVET TONE.

BIO

leo, born and raised at the eldest pembroke son, he was always destined to be, that guy.

the last name leo and his family carries a family history that runs deep within roseton's own history when it comes to the conversation of the founding of roseton, ma.

growing up, he surprised his peers, peers who weren't on him and his family level, they'd find him hanging out with them more than most of his family's inner circles and he wasn't a bully, not a on-purpose bully because of his lifestyle.

despite the pressure of the family name, leo's large family is loving as ever and welcoming which can be surprising to residents every day on how lucky they are to have founding family who genuinely isn't evil to the bone, seemingly.

everyone except for his mom, she's just a no-nonsense woman and pretty much runs the family and gathers them together real quick if they're stepping out of the family's line, after all it's leo's father that took his mother's family name.

it was leo's own decision to invest into the town's security firm, give it up for mr. ceo.

PERSONA.

not the rich asshole who will tell you he's better than you directly but will talk your ear off and make it seem like he's better than you.

leo doesn't outcast anyone who happens to be not on the same level of wealth he has, he literally operates like it's his duty to prove how well-educated and how non-delinquent he is, due to ppl's conception on the wealthy eldest sons of big name families.

truly goes above and beyond to contribute to helping out the residents of roseton, which can mostly be overwhelming for some honestly.

there's no doubt of his attractiveness but when he talks, he sometimes ruin it for himself as he rambles on.

when he's drink, he becomes a clingy mess.

so in his sober state, he's not really a physical type of person because it never really works out for him, his history of relationships have all concluded with him feeling played every single time.

he's if stiles stilinski, deadpool, and bruce wayne had a child.

an adventurer, you can quite literally catch him in every spot in town.

isn't opposed to having a partner who either overshadows, matches, or doesn't match his wealth.

doesn't seem like it most of the time, but he wears his heart on his sleeves, i'm talking about his vulnerable emotions, bcz most of the time, he's being a sarcastic bum.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

cousinnn or (s).

aunts and uncles. the family is big with traditional big lavish holiday dinners and such.

genuine friends he has from his family connections with other families.

someone who's a native or even new to town that he has what will be now a long-standing rivalry with, i'm talking real annoyed about this person's existence and vice versa, but then they actually start to give us slow-burn friends?

could have an adopted additional sibling.

boy bestfriend, ride or die, duo that runs the town in a chaotic sense but also helps the town with his security firm and the other occupation that his best friend takes on. these two together, spongebob and patrick type of dynamic.

exes.

this is what I have for now but give this a like so we can come up with something or talk about something that's not on the list so far <3

#roseton:intro #like for me to hit ur inbox for plots!!

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kouvrmurphy · 2 months ago

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“I'M NOT HERE FOR LONG. CATCH ME OR I GO HOUDINI.”

INTRODUCING…

NAME: Kouvr Celeste Murphy

GENDER & PREFERRED PRONOUNS: Cis woman {She/Her}

AGE: 28

BIRTHDAY: March 17, 1996

ZODIAC: Pisces Sun, Leo Moon, Cancer Rising

SEXUALITY: Bisexual

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single

FACE CLAIM: Madelyn Cline

LABEL: The Wave Babe

OCCUPATION: Maritime Archaeologist / Marine Biologist / Treasure Hunter

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Bushwick, Brooklyn, NYC, NY.

CHARACTER PLAYLIST: HERE.

↪ UP NEXT: “HOUDINI” BY DUA LIPA

BIOGRAPHY:

Kouvr was born with fire in her soul. Her mother claims she was the reason the sunset was so fiery on the eve of her birth; the sky painted in such beautiful hues. It’s where Kouvr got her name, and to this day she takes pride in it. Kouvr was raised in Cape Cod, MA. Being raised in a seaside town, it only made sense for the girl to be raised with the sea in her blood. Often times than not, one could always find the girl assisting her father on his boat - even when the skies were painted grey against them. Though her mother was against it, Kouvr and her father often set sail during thunderstorms. To her mother, it was dangerous. To them, it was relaxing and fun. Kouvr’s father is a commercial fisherman, hence her intrigue with maritime creatures. She got her knowledge of the sea as well as the sea creatures through him. Some of her fondest memories are walking along the shoreline with her dad and her father pointing out the marine life along with rattling off fun facts. Little did she know, that would be her in a couple of years. Kouvr loves to learn. She’s like a sponge who just absorbs and pursues knowledge. Kouvr would pull high grades without even studying in her high school years. She was actually genuinely bored of what she was learning in her high school classes. She didn't feel challenged yet in love with her course work until her university years, when she was able to specifically study what she was interested it. Kouvr took a leap of faith towards her dreams when she enrolled in Hawaii Pacific University. When she got in with a scholarship, she remembers screaming so loud her parents came running to her room to see what was the matter. Her timn Hawaii being a huge highlight when she was studying archaeology along with marine biology. Not only were their like-minded individuals with the same passion as hers, but she was able to learn from the best of the best who have been in the field for decades. Upon graduating with high honors, Kouvr has lived in Hawaii as well as Costa Rica, gaining experience and accidentally uncovering Captian Thompson's buried treasure. Recently, Kouvr found some major leads to Captian Kidd's treasure and took to Brooklyn in order to lay low from others attempting to solve the mystery as well.

EXTRA-EXTRA, READ ALL ABOUT HER!

Kouvr is extremely fortunate in the fact that she has dumb luck. It's usually this dumb luck that helps her get out of last-second obstacles. Kouvr is also good with thinking outside the box; this makes her able to catch onto things that many others may not have thought about, or quickly brushed over. Another aspect that helps her with her line of work is that she knows a little about a lot; Kouvr grew up with the ability to quickly get the hang of a new skill or activity, and thus she was easily bored - but, due to this she knows a wide range of info at a scale that can pertain to numerous topics. She's athletic, having had her fair share in sports growing up; soccer, volleyball, softball along with surfing and dance. She's always looking for new experiences and adventures, and is definitely someone who holds some pretty interesting stories. Kouvr can easily build connections with others, but is used to keeping people at an arm's length due to the constant traveling her job requires. Her main goal in life is to experience and learn as much as she can about the world around her; as well as just to have fun and live every moment to the fullest. Kouvr is super impulsive with her decisions, and this is due to the fact she is easily bored. She has good intentions, but is honestly chaotic in her actions. She's good at calling others' bluffs; reading people being a trait from her mother. Just overall, very fun-loving and here for a good time; always a 'why not?' type of vibe. She's just got her guard up cause of her job and not wanting to get hurt.

PERSONALITY:

+ Adroit, Enthralling, and Apolaustic

- Detached, Mercurial, and Impetuous

#brooklyn.intro

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cartoonsinthemorning · 4 months ago

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Apologize to anons and people messaging me that I'm leaving hanging, but there's a con approaching very soon and preps are absorbing all my time and energy. I'll be back to you asap. Speaking of which: Mi seguiranno tipo boh, 4 italiani e romani ancora meno, MA saro' al Romics tutti i giorni, dal 3 al 6, nella Self-Area, al tavolo S21---che contrassegnero' con dei palloncini pastello perche' COL CAVOLO che ci mettono sulla mappa o che facciano altro per renderci visibili e distiguibili- MA sto divagando. Venite a dirmi ciao, se vi va, mi farebbe piacere.

#mini ukulele moment + self promo #AH if only teleportation was a thing already #I could be hanging with you guys at the local con #but alas #I'll virtually smooch you when I'm back #per tutti gli altri #DAJE. VIECCE. PIJATE STI DISEGNETTI.

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dangerousdispositions · 7 months ago

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➪ GRAHAM BAEHR

if you’re hearing MURDER AT THE BINGO HALL by AMIGO THE DEVIL playing, you have to know GRAHAM BAEHR (HE/HIM; CIS MALE) is near by! the 28 year old MECHANIC at CAPSTONE AUTO & ODD- JOB HANDYMAN has been in town for, like, TWO AND A HALF YEARS. he's known to be quite INTENSE, but being TENDER- HEARTED seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that he resembles PAUL MESCAL. personally, i’d love to know more about him seeing as how he's got those EATING CANNED FOOD RIGHT OUT OF THE TIN, ALWAYS COVERED IN BANDAIDS, CARDSHARK, FEEDING AN ENTIRE FAMILY OF RACCOONS, LAUNDRY STREWN ABOUT, DISASTER GAY vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around BRIGHTSIDE long enough!

name: graham baehr

age: 28

d.o.b. & sign: june 9th, gemini.

occupation: mechanic at capstone auto, odd- job handyman & jack of all trades.

hometown: las vegas

gender identity & sexuality: cis male, pansexual, demiromantic.

relationship status: single, not looking but open to no- strings attached situations.

likes: microwave meals, easy money, animals, kids, zoning out to chill shows (like gbbo).

dislikes: nosy people, loud and sudden noises, casual physical touch without consent, cleaning, early mornings.

CWs for gambling, parental neglect/abandonment.

Up until the age of seven, things were fine. Well, Graham's Ma was gone more often than not... and if he wanted to eat most days he had to nick something from one convenience store or another, and sometimes she went weeks without coming home, but... still. It was fine. He was street wise and he knew the little slice of Vegas they lived in like the back of his hand and sometimes people let him wash their windows or car to get enough change to take to the laundromat. He was a big boy, like Mama was always sayin', and he could take care of himself.

His seventh year saw his Ma telling him to stay put outside the front doors of a Wal- Mart while she ran in to get a few things. A couple hours later, as the store was closing, when security was patrolling and found this tired, scared (he wasn't scared, he never got scared) kid still waiting outside, that's when things started going wrong.

He never saw his mother again. From there, Graham became one of those kids bounced around the system from one foster family to the next and then, as he grew older, group homes and shelters. Somewhere along the way, that sweet kid got buried. Pressure formed armor made of detached, self- serving coldness. The world he lived in, you had to look out for yourself, because no one else was going to.

Graham turned scrappy. Innovative became conniving. His baby- face worked against him when he first started trying to sneak in to the various casinos around the strip with fake IDs, but some of the less reputable places either didn't care or overlooked it, and once he was in... that was a turning point.

The rich fucks on vacation proved to be perfect prey. He ran a circuit of the places he could sneak in to, counting cards, picking pockets if he got desperate enough. He was seventeen when he finally got scouted by a less- than- scrupulous Casino Owner looking to keep some of the funds thrown around 'in the family', so to speak, and the rest was history. Not that he had much of a choice. He got the idea that if his behavior didn't start benefitting the right pockets, his luck just might start runnin' out.

His new job wasn't bad. A lot of the time it involved working the tables, and honestly, the fact that it came with a little protection and a place to crash most nights was a bonus. Little by little his new boss started asking more and more of him. Little favors, like give this person a message, or keep an eye on so and so, or take this package to this specific location at this specific time. Graham wasn't stupid.

...Okay, so he was a little stupid. But honestly, he was so quick with his fingers, a poker face to die for, he was cunning and quick and exuded the kind of confidence nobody questioned. Until he was twenty- two and he dipped his toes in the pool at an unfamiliar venue, and slipped up his third time joining them. Until they did question it. Then? Then Graham found himself getting the hell out of dodge. He ran. Truthfully, he's lucky his ass didn't get killed then and there, but he slipped past the (rightfully) pissed bigwigs and took to the streets he'd been haunting all his life. They knew his name. When he stopped by his shabby apartment, judging by a shiny, too- expensive- for- that- complex unfamiliar vehicle idling outside, they knew where he lived, too. A gut feeling told him if he went upstairs he wouldn't leave the complex alive, not that that was rocket science. He ran, and he didn't really quit running for a very long time.

The paranoia got to him. Frankly, he hasn't shaken it yet, even if a couple of years have passed since then. Some part of him is always looking over his shoulder, even if his travels have taken him far from his hometown.

Hemlock Springs is the first place he's stayed put in for a noteworthy length of time and he's been trying so very hard to keep his head down and stay out of trouble. At his core, he is a very jaded person, but he is achingly lonely and some (very deeply buried) part of him is hoping that maybe this will prove to be a chance for him to finally set down roots and maybe carve a place in the world where he actually belongs.

#hemlock.intro #muses #graham.

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viirone · 3 months ago

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⊹₊ ⋆ ( KARRUECHE TRAN, CIS WOMAN, SHE/HER, 35 ) I THINK VERONA VU JUST WALKED BY! WOW, THEY REALLY ARE A KARRUECHE TRAN LOOKALIKE! THEY’VE BEEN HERE IN SALEM FOR THIRTY-FIVE YEARS, AND SEEM TO HANG AROUND THE WITCHING HOUR DRIVE IN MOVIE THEATER A LOT. I HEARD THEY’RE A TEACHER AT CURTAIN CALL DANCE STUDIO. WHEN ASKED TO DESCRIBE THEMSELVES THEY’RE LIKELY TO SAY BRIGHT LIGHTS OF THE CENTER STAGE, THE SWEET SCENT OF FRESH MAGNOLIAS THAT CLINGS TO PERFUMED SKIN, STRETCHING OUT ALWAYS JUST TO REACH A LITTLE FURTHER.

FULL NAME VERONA DUYEN VU. KNOWN AS VI, VERA . ZODIAC LEO SUN. DOB JULY 23RD, THIRTY-FIVE. PLACE OF BIRTH SALEM, MA. GENDER CIS WOMAN. PRONOUNS SHE/HER. OCCUPATION TEACHER @ CURTAIN CALL DANCE STUDIO

HEIGHT 155 CM. HAIR BLACK. EYES DARK BROWN. SCENT THAT OF MAGNOLIA. LANGUAGES VIETNAMESE, ENGLISH. POSITIVE TRAITS CHARMING, CONDIFENT, DEVOUT . NEGATIVE TRAITS STUBBORN, IMPULSIVE, DECADENT

BACKGROUND; tl;dr. to be expanded upon.

born and raised in salem, but has spent a great deal of her time traveling back and forth from new york city in her early 20s. her parents divorced quite early on, though despite their differences, verona maintained a good, or well decent, relationship with both.

her mother diana, is a local nurse, a well-known individual to those native to salem. the two, though they nurse a close bond, have always clashed with one another, and have never quite seen each other eye to eye in terms of verona's professional life.

she began attending ballet classes at the age of three, only to switch to contemporary dance at twelve, and in spite of her mother initially believing that verona's fascination with dance would pass and diminish, she continued to pursue this dream of hers even in school, becoming one of the top football cheerleaders in junior year. she was scouted in her final year and offered a semi-permanent training position in new york.

even with the lights of the big city sparkling up her eyes, she wasn't entirely ready to let go of her life nor the people in salem, and was always booking flights on weekends in hopes of seeing those she loved most.

by twenty-four, she was back once more and set on securing herself a future in the dance world. in the span of her very brief twenties, she worked with various musicians and singers, either appearing in or choreographing their videos.

knowing just how demanding and merciless the industry is, now in her 30s, she works as a dance teacher, fearing only the day when someone will say that she's too old for it. ( it happened already, she remembers it all too well, on the day that she turned 30. )

was very much the popular, or well the-it-girl back in school. everybody who was somebody knew verona, and wished to be in her circle of friends.

though beloved by her classmates, she never had a mean streak, nor did she vie for popularity. people simply loved just how outgoing she seemed.

the classic cheerleader turned dancer. does yoga, cares very much about having a healthy lifestyle, runs marathons, a true shopaholic and an ardent lover of old hollywood cinema. what can i say, she's a true romantic at heart.

full bio shall be posted via google doc.

#salem: intro

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hngcdmn · 8 months ago

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ainda me lembro das vezes que cruzei com HECTOR BLYTHE na kappa phi! ele era tão parecido com RHYS MATTHEW BOND, mas, atualmente, aos 32 anos, me lembra muito mais OLIVER JACKSON-COHEN. fiquei sabendo que, depois de cursar DIREITO, atualmente é ADVOGADOe que ainda é EMPÁTICO e INSEGURO. uma pena acabar encontrando ele assim… não é possível que esteja envolvido com o acidente de fiona e a morte de victor, certo?

skeleton escolhido: xii, the hanged man.

gênero do personagem: homem cis.

aesthetic: dirigir rápido demais numa rua vazia; cheiro de cigarro; lista infinita de livros para ler; garrafas de álcool vazias na mesa; desculpas constantes; luzes de led roxas, azuis e rosas; hematomas; uma mansão solitária no topo de uma colina; olheiras; fotos de família rasgadas.

headcanons:

“Cresci numa casa assombrada”, delirei enquanto respondia à pergunta da psicóloga. Ela me olhava com atenção e, mesmo que seus olhos escuros não deixassem passar nada mais que compreensão, temia estar sendo julgado. Não seria a primeira vez, se esse fosse o caso, mas desejava que não fosse isso o que estava acontecendo. Temia, também, olhá-la nos olhos, talvez ela soubesse que eu escondia algo se eu o fizesse. Por hora, havia decidido encarar o estofado azul em que ela se sentava. Com o silêncio, podia ouvir o tic do relógio e o som de minha perna inquieta, pé batendo contra o chão, ansioso para sair dali, parecia muito mais alto.

Quando ousei erguer o olhar para seu rosto novamente, encontrei um semblante muito semelhante ao da minha falecida mãe e ri, por instinto, por nervosismo. A vontade de fugir era muito mais evidente em minhas mãos suadas e meu sorriso amarelo. “Não do tipo que se vê na tevê, sabe? Era mais do tipo…”, engoli em seco a necessidade de me explicar. Por algum motivo, quando os meus amigos me disseram para procurar um psicólogo, acreditei que poderia ser o melhor pra mim. Ali, agora, começava a duvidar da minha capacidade de fazer escolhas visando o meu bem estar. “Sabe quando tudo o que você vê… Parece não estar vivo de verdade? Apenas um fantasma de quem deveriam ser…”, sabia ser mais eloquente do que aquilo, mas as palavras fugiam da minha boca. “Meus pais eram tinham… Hm, problemas. Com… Bem, minha era alcoólatra e meu pai… Viciado em drogas e jogos de azar”, declarei, repentino. Talvez assim ficasse mais claro. “Eu ficava muito tempo sozinho em casa desde os…”, a idade sumiu. Desde os seis anos. Eu tinha que dizer. Mas existia em mim a necessidade de protegê-los. Eram tão vítimas quanto eu.

“Tudo começou, eu acho, quando eu tinha, sei lá, dezessete anos e uns amigos meus estavam brincando de ser maneiros e começaram a fumar maconha”, continuei. Todo adolescente tinha uma história como aquela. “Talvez antes… Eu apanhava muito, sabe? E tinha muitas dores.. Ia no médico sempre que quebrava algum braço e tomava muitos medicamentos para dor”, aqui as coisas começavam a se embananar. “Mas a culpa não é deles! A culpa… É minha”, fui rápido em explicar. Novamente, sabia da mania de psicólogos em culparem os pais pelas coisas que seus pacientes fazem e, bem, eu não podia aceitar que o fizessem… Quando apanhava, era porque havia aprontado. Sempre… Quase sempre. Não me lembrava direito, se fosse para ser sincero. Boa parte da minha infância havia se apagado na minha cabeça e o que restava eram as memórias da adolescência, quando sabia me defender. Mal conseguia lembrar de quando fui tirado de casa e colocado em várias casas temporárias, por exemplo. “Sei lá.”

“Olha, eu nem sei o que estou fazendo aqui”, conclui. Minha voz era fraca, quase desaparecia na minha garganta. “Acho que é a minha última esperança”, ali morava uma verdade que machucava. Que eu não queria admitir. Minha energia havia sido drenada, nada restava em mim além das lembranças daquela faceta inútil que eu havia assumido para todos. Mentira! Mentira! Eu gritava, como se pedisse socorro para algo ou alguém que nem mesmo eu saberia dizer. Talvez eu mesmo. Mas não pude contar com tal ajuda. Nunca pude contar comigo, mesmo quando eu mais precisei. Suspirei, pesado. Tinha trabalho a fazer, tinha coisas a resolver.

Será o trabalho uma maneira de postergar o futuro inevitável? O pensamento correu minha cabeça de maneira rápida, mas não saberia responder, então apenas me ergui do estofado. Estava pronto para ir embora, sumir dali. Quando a voz da psicóloga abriu a porta para o incerto: “Mesmo dia e mesma hora semana que vem?”

Sem saber o motivo, concordei.

conexões

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