#City Breaks Verona

[aeyumicore]

misty invasion - omnipotent perception

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: rafayel x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with some plot, porn with feelings, angst with comfort

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 6.5k (who’s surprised)

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, slight spoilers and alterations to ‘omnipotent perception (rafayel’s misty invasion card), slightly toxic relationship, m!receiving handjob, bathtub sex, pulling out, cummies in hair/face, lots of making out, hickeys, HEAVY references to rafayel’s lore (sea god and some abysswalker), references to rafayel’s 4* memory fragrant dream, so much angst (with comfort), soooo much feelings, sensory deprivation, sensory play, blindfolding, switch!raf, desperate rafayel, kinda withholding rafayel, clothes on in tub, p in v seggs, use of y/n, use of pet names

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: video | ao3 | xav's version | sylus's version | zayne's version

━ ✧.˖ A/N: RAF IS HERE! sooooo this one is a long one. each one of my misty invasions got longer and longer, i am a menace to myself. but this one made sense, i felt as if raf’s misty invasion had the most lore subtly stitched into it and you guys know i always try and explore some angst/lore <3 i am very happy and excited to finally close out the misty invasion series. 

i’m going to be taking a much needed break after this. i’ll likely still be writing, but slowly and in my own time. I had a brief period of motivation, after the clarity of sharing my story, but now i am back to being anxious and exhausted.

that being said, please do not send anyone hate in my name or in my defense. I have never and will never ask for that. it’s enough that i have your support, i don’t need more than that. 

special thank you to my friend @myusuchaa for helping me SO much with the rafayel lore. definitely the biggest fish forker i know <3

as always, if i missed any warnings or used too specific physical descriptors, let me know and i can do better! thank you guys for your support. i love you!

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

“Do you feel lonely in this world that is totally different from yours?”

—

It’d been a beautiful summer day, riding bicycles along the Italian coast of Verona. Rafayel had just finished his piece for an art exhibition in the capital of the picturesque city, and you’d had time to soak in the summer breeze with each other. The air was wonderfully salty, just enough to remind you of the sea itself. Of Rafayel. 

It hadn’t truly surprised you when you’d found out Rafayel had lived here before, especially now knowing his Lemurian roots. Something about the way he walked through the Veronian brick paved roads, the rustic wind tousling his beachy waves, the cloudy sun shining on his effervescent skin. Like he’d belonged here, once upon a time. 

It was the perfect day.

Even when you’d teased him about the Lemurian who’d dissipated into sea foam for a mere human, and Rafayel’s expression misted over with a melancholic nostalgia. When his eyes glazed over with a torrent of inexplicable emotions, he could tell you wanted to prod him about it. But you didn’t, and for that he was incredibly grateful. There was a part of him that longed for you to know, to remember, the truth of that story. But he couldn’t trust you with that part of him again. Not yet. 

Even then, it was a perfect day. The two of you in Verona, the city of Romeo and Juliet. 

Two ill-fated lovers. 

It was perfect, he was perfect. 

Until you asked him that question. 

“Do you feel lonely in this world that is totally different from yours?”

Suddenly, Rafayel couldn’t look you in the eyes. Even when the rain droplets had started to patter onto your sun kissed skin, Rafayel holding you close under his favorite cardigan to shelter you from the onslaught of crystalline water. He couldn’t look at you. He refused to look at you.

If he did, you might’ve seen the tumultuous storm flickering in his eyes. The violets in his irises bright with unshed tears, the blues dark with a bitter loneliness. 

He didn’t speak to you the entire way back to your hotel, heading straight to the bathroom. At first you think that perhaps he’s upset with you, but he only draws you a warm bath in the luxurious clawfoot tub overlooking the Italian night lights. 

When he finally does speak to you, peeling off his layers of soaked clothing, you can tell he’s masking his true emotions under a facade of classic Rafayel sarcasm. Joking about whether he should write a Lemurian handbook for you or just read you 1,001 Lemurian stories. But he surprises you when his voice cracks with a raw genuineness, one that’s masked under layers and layers of hesitancy and loneliness. You can’t quite understand it.

“You can be my caretaker. And I can tell you 1,001 stories,” he mutters, eyes trained on the ground once more, voice soft and vulnerable. 

“I’m okay with every choice you provide,” he continues as he peels your wet jacket off your shoulders innocently. When his hand reaches the inside of your coat, grazing against your exposed waist, he pulls his hand back. His face is a storm of conflicted torment.

“...But you should take a warm bath first. Or else you’ll catch a cold.”

As he turns to leave, the sight of his lean and muscled back making you blush, you muster all your courage and call out to him, “You can’t leave. You still haven’t answered my question.”

You catch his wrist, using all your force to pull him back. Rafayel stiffens, unable to catch himself before he tumbles backwards into the filled tub. 

He’s able to protect his head from hitting the edge of the tub, the water sloshing around and splashing onto the tiled bathroom floor. Rafayel sits in the tub, not a semblance of annoyance on his face. Instead he looks flustered, the warm water clinging to his defined muscles.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Rafayel’s hair is disheveled, the water making clumps of his damp hair stick to his wet skin. His eyes watch you with inscrutable emotions, waiting for you to speak. 

You don’t answer his question, instead asking one of your own.

“You can spare me the details, but there’s something important you should tell me…” you hum, walking to his side by the tub, leaning over him, “How do Lemurians express love?”

Rafayel looks startled by your question for a second before composing himself, “Do you really want to know?” The fragrant candles in the bathroom flicker, the steam of the bath dancing against the soft flames. His words seem less like a genuine question…and more like a vague warning. 

Before you can respond, Rafayel’s fingers are closed around your wrist, tugging you into the tub on top of him. You squeal as Rafayel guides your body onto his, the violent crashing of water loud against the soft sound of the rain against the large glass windows.

Rafayel looks smug, his hand holding yours against his chest. You’re messily sprawled across his half naked body when he shifts you off of him so that he can sit next to you, his strong arm wrapping around your body. The warm water is uncomfortable against your still half-clothed body, but you can only focus on the way Rafayel holds your fingers up to his mouth, pressing a kiss into the back of your hand like you were royalty. 

“When Lemurians fall in love with someone…” Rafayel mutters, his warm breath fanning against your hand, “All our senses are committed to perceive them without question.” His eyes are intense as he speaks to you, hoping to convey even an ounce of the love he speaks so honestly of. 

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Your senses? Like…this?” You untangle your hand from his, bringing your index finger up to his lips. You barely graze his pouty bottom lip before he’s panting, struggling to speak. 

“...Your way of triggering my “senses” has only touched the surface,” he mutters sulkily, yet he has to look away from you, cheeks rosy at your mere touch. He grabs your hand, eyes locked back onto yours giving you a silent warning. 

But you only proceed further, your fingers grasping his chin, your eyes peering up at him with a faux innocence. It’s not long before your fingers wander south, pressing into his heaving chest, flitting around his sharp collarbones. Rafayel’s reaction only fuels you with mischief and confidence, the way his breath matches his heartbeat: fast, erratic, and demanding. 

He looks at you with almost…disbelief. Disbelief at your actions, but more so disbelief at the way your simplest touches can have his body reacting so viscerally. It was a testament of just how much the dark-mauve haired Lemurian loved you, his every sense reacting to you so readily.

“...Are all humans idiots?” Rafayel grits, refusing to look at you again. But his body betrays his words when your hand ventures further down. You’re barely able to register the shocked expression on his flushed face before your back is pressed into the edge of the tub, the water splashing wilding as Rafayel hovers atop you.

He’s careful not to press his body into you, knowing he’d be an absolute goner once he felt your core against his. His thick muscles twitch angrily as he holds you down against the back of the tub, your hand clutching his shoulder for support against his erratic actions. 

“Someone’s intentions are as clear as day,” he accuses you. Though his words hold not even an ounce of ill-intention, he narrows his eyes at you. Just then, the rain outside turns into lightning, briefly illuminating Rafayel’s ethereal features. The flash of light accentuates the tempest that’s brewing in suspicious eyes. 

As you watch the turmoil flicker in them, you suddenly think maybe you pushed too far, “Do you not like it?” Your voice comes out more insecure than you’d wanted it to, suddenly aware of how forward you were being.

Rafayel sighs, pausing before his voice comes out pained, “If I said I didn’t, would you stop?” 

At the hint of anguish in his voice, you move to pull your hand away. But Rafayel’s hand abandons its grip on the tub to clasp against your hand, holding it tighter against his neck, refusing to let you go.

You gasp, as his movements cause the warm water to swash around. With his forceful hand over yours, your flushed skin prickles against his alarmingly chilly skin. 

“Rafayel, your body is so cold!” you whisper worriedly, fearing he might be catching a cold. For a second you forget that he’s Lemurian, accustomed to the frigid depths of the ocean. As your eyes search his anxiously, hand still gripping his cold shoulder, Rafayel’s own eyes watch yours meticulously. 

The swirls of blue and pink in his eyes have always been breathtaking, like the perfect mix of the most expensive paints. But now, as he watches you with the depth of the whole Lemurian oceans in his eyes, you’re completely speechless to the flickering of rampant passion behind them. 

That is until he grabs your chin roughly. Rafayel was no stranger to taking what he wanted, but this was different. The way he grabbed you screamed of…insecurity. Demanding, but unsure all the same. His cheeks are tinged the prettiest of coral pinks, his bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he closes the distances between your faces. Quickly, so he can’t change his mind. 

His soft lips slot over yours in a bruising embrace of passion, need, and unwavering longing. There’s something mind numbing about how gently his lips take yours, yet the pads of his fingers hold your chin so forcibly, as if afraid you’d slip into the depths of the water and disappear from his arms forever. 

The thunder rumbles deafeningly but all you can hear is Rafayel. He pants into you, his mouth claiming every inch of your lips, of your tongue. He kisses you like he knows nothing else, like he feels nothing else. 

He doesn’t let you go, although you’d never want him to. You only want him to hold you tighter, pull you closer, take you harder. You want to protest when he finally pulls away, gasping as a thin rope of saliva connects your parted and bruised lips.

Flashes of light illuminate his face, making him look as ethereal as the sirens warned about in ancient tales and myths. He hesitates to speak, trying to find the words to convey the emotions he’s been trying to control since the memories of Verona had begun to overwhelm him. The memories of his past. His past with you.

“And you’re warm,” he pants, still trying to catch his breath. His heart was pounding painfully, his body always so willing to react to you. All his senses, always so hyper aware of you, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. His thumb strokes your glistening bottom lip, fingers still holding your chin captive. His eyes watch you with an unbearable longing, the previously intense crinkle in them softened to a tender vulnerability. 

“So perfect for me.”

Butterflies wriggle in your tummy, and you reach your wet hands reach up to cup his cheeks. 

“Rafayel, you seem different…” you mumble, stroking the cold and smooth expanse of his cheek. He looks down, avoiding your gaze, clearly grappling with a turmoil of intrusive emotions and memories. Despite that all, his face softens under your touch, even unbeknownst to him. 

Before you can ask him what’s on his mind, he’s rubbing his cheeks into your palms. The warmth of your affectionate embrace makes it difficult for Rafayel to think clearly, and he can’t stop himself from whispering, “Will you still love me no matter who I become?”

You’re speechless at the blatant insecurity in his voice, in his eyes. Rafayel was always confident, years as a world-famous artist had made him self-assured in more ways than one. But now, as his shadowed and down-cast eyes searched yours desperately for an answer, you could see just how unsure he was. You could see the cracks forming in his polished shield, the fissure spider webbing uncontrollably, on the precipice of shattering completely. 

His eyes pierce yours, fully intending to get an answer from you. You don’t even think he notices how pouty he’s become, his bottom lip protruding in an tragically adorable show of just how badly he needs you to understand him. To love him. 

To remember him. 

Unable to withstand his paralyzing gaze any longer, you yank him down to you by the chain that hangs around his neck. The silver necklace matched the shimmering bracelet he’d gifted you, that currently sits on your own wrist. 

Rafayel grunts as you pull him closer, clearly taken aback. His gaze doesn’t lighten, only becoming more intense and heated as your breath grows more bated against his own parted lips. 

“You…” he grumbles, trailing off, eyes flickering down to the beautiful sheen across your lips, before they dart away, looking to where his fingers grip the edge of the porcelain white tub. The rosy blush that dusts his cheeks gives away just how much he yearns for more, more of you. 

You find him to be so irresistibly tortured that you can’t help but hook your arm around his neck, pulling him further down until your lips collide with his collar. If you can take even an ounce of his tumultuous pain away, you’d do it.

The thunder roars violently as you kiss him, the water in the tub splashing over and hitting the bathroom tile. Rafayel is quick to relent all control, letting you take every inch of him. His fingers thread into your hair as you kiss his sensitive chest, teeth nipping at the cold skin on his collar. His whimpering gasps are audible, fingers tugging at your damp hair, as you suckle torturously at his chest, no doubt leaving a reddened bruise. 

When he finally pulls away, there’s a clear look of reluctance on his beautiful features. You try and pull him back, and he briefly lets you before pulling back, the look of hesitation returning to his thunderous eyes. 

You give up, instead moving your finger to brush against the reddened hickey forming on his collar. Rafayel looks at you, pained and begging for mercy, as your fingernails graze over the sensitive skin. 

“When humans fall in love…” you hum, admiring the beautiful bruise, “We try to leave a unique mark on them.” 

At that precise moment, the moment you mention you’re in love with him, you can visibly see the fractured remnants of Rafayel’s walls come crashing down. He pants, eyes fixed on the way your hand presses over the right side of his chest, so dangerously close to where his heart was. To where his bond with you was etched into his very soul. 

In that very moment, a flip switches in Rafayel. His eyes burn, not with anguish or uncertainty, but with a dangerous desire.

“If you say so…” he rasps, leaning in until your breaths mingle into one. As his eyes flicker closed, lips ghosting along yours, he whispers, just before his lips claim yours. 

“Join me, then.” His lips press into yours, holding back as to not take you completely.

“Let’s drown in the ocean.” He inhales your torrid gasps, his words deceitfully simple. 

“Together.”

Rafayel kisses you, instantaneously consuming you. He pants into you, unable to soften the way his body reacts to you, the way his senses consume you until there’s nothing left of him. To him, loving you, losing you, and repeating the cycle…felt exactly like that.

Like drowning. 

He throws all that emotion into the way he kisses you. The embrace is so intense that it makes tears form in your eyes, emotions welling in your chest so tightly you fear you might burst. 

When he pulls away to breathe, you look up at him, “You never answered my question from earlier.”

Rafayel’s eyes widened, knowing exactly which question you were referring to. What he didn’t expect was for you to be so direct. His eyes dart around, but you hold his face in your palms before he can physically turn away. He opens his mouth to speak, before pursing his lips again in hesitation. 

You gently prod him, fingers stroking his locked jaw, “Raf?” 

“It…” he starts, eyes crackling with emotions. Rafayel struggles to find the words. He knows exactly what he wants to tell you, but can’t find the words to express it to you. 

It’s not that he wanted to be withholding, least of all with you. He would give you anything. He had given you everything, time and time again. To the point where it destroyed him. 

But the fear of having it all taken away, again, had made him so reluctant to lean back into the wind, like he’d done so many times in the past. Too scared of how much of himself he’d lose again in the never-ending cycle of falling irrevocably in love with you. 

And yet, as much as it took from him, it didn’t matter. Because you were everything to him.

“In this human world…it’s not difficult for a Lemurian to become lonely,” he laments wistfully, eyes misted with a faraway look. 

He continues. “But in all the lives I’ve lived, I almost never felt lonely,” Rafayel gently smiles at you, a smile filled with a wistful sorrow. 

“Really? Why?” you ask genuinely, still soothing his hardened jaw. His features had softened considerably as he peered down at your wet form, the tension between his legs growing visibly.

Rafayel chuckles. His answer was simple. 

Because, there was always you. 

But that was a tale for another time. 

“Are you trying to trick a foolish Lemurian into giving up all his secrets again, my little human?” he whispers huskily, leaning down to kiss at the skin under your ear. 

You’re about to ask him what he means by again, but the words die on your tongue when Rafayel sinks his teeth into your neck. His fingers find the buttons of your drenched top, unbuttoning it feverishly, desperately shedding your layers of clothing off of you.

Before you know it, you’re naked in Rafayel’s arms, his own bare manhood pressed insistently into your inner thighs, dangerously close to your core. Though the rest of his body is chilly from the rainwater, his throbbing erection burns against your skin. Even submerged in water, you can feel his pre cum oozing onto your leg, hot and thick.

His lips trail down your shivering body, kissing the grooves of your collar, teeth grazing the swell of your breasts. He’s nearly heaving, gasping for air like he can’t breathe. And truthfully, he couldn’t.

The dam of his emotional barriers absolutely decimated, the flood of his unabated passion overwhelming his senses. There is only you. The smell, the sound, the feeling, the sight, the taste of you. 

A Lemurian in love. Utterly, brokenly, and wholeheartedly. 

You try to match his intensity, pulling at his soft and wavy hair, drawing him closer to your naked body. You thrust your chest towards him, wanting him to claim you like he’d done so many times before. 

Rafayel chuckles at your obvious desires, but more than willing to oblige. His Queen. 

His lips close over your breast, his lips cold but his tongue wet and hot against your nipple. The warm water splashes messily against your clashing bodies. The lightning outside flashes, the shadows of your lewd acts dancing against the bathroom walls.

“Nnghnh, R-Raf!” you wail, his skilled mouth devouring you whole. Your spine arches into his demanding mouth, the wet splashes of the bath and the ravenous slurps filling the acoustics of the hotel bathroom. 

The pleasure of his tongue is so intense that your body can’t help but squirm backwards. Rafayel chuckles almost cynically, as he captures the back of your neck with his long and slender fingers. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to run away from me,” he pouts, leveling with your drooping eyes, body already delirious from the pleasure Rafayel knows how to bring you. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, bringing your chin up so that your eyes meet, “Don’t make me wait anymore, please.” 

You can’t help but smile at his adorable pout, his eyebrows furrowed in a sulky plea. You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, twirling his wavy hair into your fingers, bringing him closer until your foreheads are pressed together. 

“I don’t want to wait either,” you whisper breathlessly against him, his face so close you can feel the length of his eyelashes against your cheek.

Rafayel gulps, his neck bobbing with the pressure of how forcefully he has to restrain his senses, restrain himself. It’s so clear how vulnerable he is to your every whim, so you take the opportunity to push him below you. His glimmering eyes shine with confusion, but he lets you climb atop him, hissing when your slick cunt presses down on his cock.

“What are you doing, Miss?”

You don’t answer, leaning over the tub to grab Rafayel’s damp cardigan, bringing it up to his face. He raises an eyebrow in question at you, his palms resting in the fat of your hips as your bare pussy drags against his pelvis. 

“Do you trust me?” you grin playfully at him, spreading the cardigan out and preparing to use it as a makeshift blindfold. Rafayel seems to know exactly what you’re planning. He looks up at you, inexplicable emotions reflected in his glassy eyes. 

“I do,” he whispers finally. His worlds are simple, yet something about them rips through your consciousness, filling you with a torrent of bittersweet fractures of a lost memory. 

A memory of another time Rafayel told you those same words.

I do.

Rafayel can read the confusion in your eyes, and squeezes your hips reassuringly. You’re shaken from the confusion of your mind-bending memories. Trying to focus on the moment at hand, you clear your throat and carefully tie the soft and expensive cardigan around Rafayel’s head, effectively cutting off his vision.

You lean down to whisper against his ears, lobes pink with excitement and anticipation.

“Let me show you what else humans do when we’re in love.”

Rafaye’s entire body quakes, his chest rising rapidly at your unabashed words. His fingers dig into your hips as he does his best to limit his embarrassingly visceral reactions to your body. With his vision limited, all his other senses are heightened to your will. 

With your lips at this ear, your neck is exposed to him. The smell of your pheromones mixed with your perfume clouds his thoughts, the urge to drive his teeth into your pulse so unbelievably overwhelming. But your palm on his chest pushes him down, your lips trailing down his ear, down his neck, and to his chest. 

With his eyes covered, his skin is all the more sensitive to your touch, 

“Please,” Rafayel rasps, nails digging into your thighs, “Please. I can’t wait anymore.”

You giggle at how adorably needy he’s become. You can tell just how much the blindfold affects him, his body more readily reactive to your lips, your fingers, your words.

Even with his eyes covered, Rafayel can’t help but pout. The inability to see you, his beautiful Queen, made him all the more desperate.

You decide to indulge him, fist closing around his cock under the water. Rafayel’s hips jolt violently, his lower half lifting to chase the friction of your soft hand. While he cries out in pleasure, you kiss down to where the water meets his defined chest.

“O-oh fuuck,” Rafayel hisses, his head thrown back on the edge of the tub, neck straining into the cool ceramic. His hips buck up into your fist wildly, your hand moving far too languidly for his taste. You continue to tease him slowly, his cock and your hand completely submerged under the surface of the water. He whimpers, teeth digging into his bottom lip, continuously thrusting up into your hand.

You take his desperation as an opportunity to torture him more, moving as gently as you can so that you can move up to his ear without him noticing. With your hand still pumping his oozing cock under the water, you whisper into his ear, letting your tongue graze his earlobe.

“When humans love someone…we want to make them feel good,” you whisper seductively into his ear, purposely letting your words come out in hot breaths. Rafayel jolts and squirms in response, fingers gripping the edge of the tub until his knuckles are pale white. 

“Sh-shiit,” he hisses breathlessly as your hand pumps up and down faster, the movements causing the water to ripple. His muscles flex under your touch, shining with a wet sheen against the flashing glow of lightning. 

“So? Does it feel good, Raf?” you murmur into his neck, pressing a chaste kiss to where his throat bobs with the heavy beat of his pulse. 

He thrusts himself into your hand violently, voice coming out in a gravelly groan, “Yes. You always feel so fucking good. S-so soft.”

Surprising him again, you take his lips into yours, insistently pushing your tongue into his mouth, all the while your fist continues to jerk him off. You catch every one of his unabashed moans with your own mouth, the muffled sounds of his pleasure mixing with the thundering storm outside.

It’s a furious clashing of saliva, teeth, and pure unfiltered passion. His fingers digging into your waist, your fingers squeezing his cock so tightly it threatens to have him spilling all over you and the filled tub. 

When you pull away, the spit dribbles down Rafayel’s chin and onto his damp chest. He looks adorably flustered, the cardigan still covering his eyes. With his sight gone, the feeling of your tongue against his, your fingers wrapped around his cock, your plush thighs against his twitching muscles is all the more intense. His body, all the more pliant for you. 

“Hah – if you keep going, I’m g-gonna–”

He doesn’t even have time to finish his words when his cock lurches in your greedy hands, thick and burning rivulets of cum shooting into the lukewarm bathwater. It’s strangely beautiful, like a ribbon of iridescent pearls. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Rafayel gasps, nearly choking over his own rapid breath, his fingers gripping the edges of the tub.

His body convulses with his orgasm, a broken mantra of swears and lewd groans the only thing audible even in the roar of the storm outside. 

“Nnnghnh – b-baby,” Rafayel whines as you pump him through a mind-numbing overstimulation, desperate to see you. But you don’t stop, only giggling as you watch even more cum spurt from his angry pink tip. 

In a sudden flash of splashing water and strong fingers gripping your thighs, you find yourself under Rafayel again, his hand holding the back of your neck protectively as he slams you into the edge of the tub. His cardigan no longer covers his eyes, likely discarded somewhere on the wet floor.

Your eyes are wide from the whiplash of his sudden movements, “Rafayel?”

His sunset eyes blaze wildly as he watches you, the sight of you so utterly indulgent and overwhelming after having his vision returned to him. 

“Will you let me worship you?” 

His question is vulnerable, desperate. He looks at you so damn hopefully that it’d be impossible to say no even if some insane part of you wanted to. 

You reach up to clasp his cheek in your hands, pulling him closer until your noses brush against each other, “Yes, always.”

With the breathy desperate utterance of consent leaving your lips, fanning across his open mouth, he loses it.

He forces your thighs wider, gripping you by the fat of your hips and dragging you towards him until your bare cunt brushes right against once-again hard erection. You were used to Rafayel’s virtually non-existent refractory period, his cock upright and commanding attention so quickly after his orgasm.

The lukewarm bath water makes every touch feel much more fluid, all the more intimate and sensitive. Your grip the edges of the tub for support, Rafayel’s movements erratic and unpredictable. He leans down towards you, your bodies as close as the confines of the tub will allow. 

“My Queen,” he mutters under his breath like a vow, shifting to line himself up with your entrance. Without another warning, he pushes himself into you. 

You squeal at the stretch, your arousal making it easy for him to push into you completely. Rafayel groans as he enters you, his head thrown back in ecstasy, his large hands wrapped around your thighs. 

Rafayel is absolutely not shy with his cries of pleasure. His body shudders even though he hasn’t moved since seating himself fully inside of your warm and impossibly tight walls. 

When he doesn’t move, you screw your eyes open in confusion, doing your best to speak through the wonderful stretch of his cock inside your quivering walls, “R-Raf? Are you okay?”

Rafayel doesn’t speak, but the glow of the storm outside illuminates the way his throat bobs, every fiber of his body overstimulated with the pleasure of your body gripping his, refusing to let go.

You move to shift towards him, worried about the way he’s locked up, but that only causes your body to involuntarily squeeze around him. Rafayel hisses, pushing you back down gently, his fingers caressing your cheek.

“I-I just need a second.”

“A-are you okay?” you ask worriedly.

“You’re so tight, so warm,” Rafayel chokes out, his fingers tightening around your cheek and thigh. You can vaguely feel his cock growing inside you, and it’s then you realize he’s paralyzed, not by hesitation or pain, but pleasure.

You can’t stop yourself from teasing him, clenching down on his manhood snug inside you. Rafayel moans, his hands coming down to grip your thighs in a silent warning.

“No more teasing me,” he cautions with a pout, one hand shifting to rest on your naval. At your mischievous grin, Rafayel presses down. 

You cry out, eyes rolling back as he forces the walls of your pussy to rub against his cock. Rafayel wants to smirk at your helpless writhing, but the sensation is also overwhelming for him. His body heaves, nearly collapsing on top of you, only catching himself by gripping the sides of the tub.

Your fingers wrap around his trembling biceps, eyes urging him to take you.

Rafayel swears, obliging at the fucked-out look in your eyes. He unsheathes himself fully from your addicting gummy walls, barely even leaving his tip in, before shoving himself back into you.

The newfound vigor of his thrusts makes the water in the tub slosh wildly, splashing all over your face and hair. But you could care less, because the feeling of his excitement bruising its way in and out of your throbbing cunt is literally all you can think about. Pathetic moans of pleasure, the only sound you can make.

Rafayel fares no better, strings of beautiful grunts leaving his own lips. His pelvis slams into your soft inner thighs, the sound of the water against your colliding skin sinfully mixing with your combined moans. 

“You’re so – nghnh – perfect for me, Y/N,” Rafayel groans as he drives into you, the tip of his cockhead brushing into your cervix and g-spot all at once, at every thrust. 

His hands clutching the tub on either side of your head cage you in, making it so the only thing you can focus on is him. And the only thing that his senses can perceive is you.

The only thing he can see is you, your tears mixing with the soapy water, the reddened love bites blossoming on your skin.

The smell of you heightened even against the fragrant scent of the bath soap, your pheromones driving him to the edge of insanity. 

Your wanton cries for him, fueling him to fuck you harder, the sounds of your sweet pleasure making his own noises come out unabashedly. 

The taste of you lingering on his tongue every time he bends down to capture your lips in his, saliva running down both your chins. 

But mostly…the feeling of your perfect walls constricting him, pulling him in, refusing to let go. The feeling of your hands, pressed deep into his twitching muscles. Your soft thighs locking him against your sopping cunt. 

God, he was so in love with you it was nearly pitiful. 

“You’ll always be my Queen,” Rafayel babbles, thrusts becoming erratic as he becomes overwhelmed by the bittersweet memories that’d resurfaced in Verona, “My entire heart.”

You nod vigorously at his words. “Always Raf,” you gasp, holding onto him as he pounds into you even harder, your spine thudding into the tub, the water cushioning the blows.

“You better never leave me,” he broods, putting every ounce of emotion into the way his cock claims every inch of your poor cunt. The word ‘again’ dies on his lips, the writhing artist above you opting to save that for another time.

“W-would – nnghnh – never leave you.”

His wild eyes focus on your words. He says simply, the subtleist hint of insecurity and doubt playing in his shaky voice, “I’m gonna – hah – hold you to that.”

You bob your head, wanting him to see how serious you are, see just how much he meant to you.

Your fingers venture to your clit, desperately pent up from all the sexual and emotional tension that’d built up from today. Rafayel doesn’t see you immediately, his head thrown back in a drawn out groan, his body glistening with sweat and bath water, chiseled muscles twitching with his impending release.

When he finally glances back down, he sees your fingers furiously pawing at your clit and he nearly growls at the sight beneath him.

His voice comes out broken and husky, uncharacteristically so for the normally charismatic and smooth-talking painter. He gently pushes your fingers away, his own lengthy and skilled fingers replacing yours.

“Let me,” he begs, hips stuttering as he nears his second release, “I’ll take care of you Y/N.”

His sweet words make you shiver, your body convulsing around him. Rafayel shudders as you grow tighter around him. It felt like you were nearly cutting off his circulation, in the best way. 

Rafayel’s fingers on your quivering bundle of nerves have you seeing lightning even with your eyes screwed tightly shut. He truly had the hands of a god, fingers slender and deft, the pads of his digits hardened from years of skilfully maneuvering expensive paint brushes. Your body was his canvas, and he’d spend hours creating art with you. 

“R-Rafayel, I’m soo – nngh – c-cloose,” you slur, your body arching into him, head thrown back until all you see is the ceiling above. 

Rafayel heaves at the sensation of you coming undone around him, his fingers still rubbing furiously. There’s a bright desperation in his glowing eyes, the need to see you cum on him as strong as the need to fill you up with his endless seed. 

As his body trembles above you, his fingers grip the tub so harshly his knuckles have turned taut and deathly white. 

“I-I’m close too, baby,” he groans, “Please, can I cum?”

You nod vigorously, wanting nothing more than to feel him release with you But Rafayel wants to hear you. 

“Say it, Y/N. Tell me,” he pleads, “I need to hear you.” His voice is so brokenly desperate it drives you closer to your release, the sound of his lewd pleas so utterly erotic. 

“Ra-Rafayel, n-need it s’bad. Shiiit – please!” you all but scream, his insistent fingers pushing you into your orgasm. 

Rafayel chews on his bottom lip as he watches how beautifully you explode on him, so unbelievably close to finishing himself. He desperately wanted to cum inside you, but he knew if he did that he would be at the point of no return. You’d very well spend the rest of your trip in Verona locked in your hotel room, his cock nestled inside you until you literally begged for mercy. And maybe not even then. 

So with every ounce of will he had left, he pulled out of you as he came, standing on his knees so he could wrap his fist firmly around his cock as he came. The force of his cum so strong it shot all over your damp breasts and even your face, your expression still contorted in the ecstasy of your climax. 

You watch in awe, your cunt convulsing around nothing, your orgasm tapering off, as Rafayel trembles through his own pleasure. His cum is hot as it splashes onto your wet body, some of it shooting into your hair. Honestly the sight of how powerfully his cock erupted makes your stomach lurch in arousal.

Rafayel whimpers through his endless orgasm, his fist pumping up and down as he finishes on you. You’re left quivering beneath his imposing body, mesmerized by the white ropes of cum that shoot from his angry red tip. 

When he finally finishes, his glassy eyes watch you, absolutely awestruck. He bends down, his forearms trembling as one grips the side of the tub, the other stroking your cheek. He catches a rivulet of his milky seed with his finger, grinning cheekily at your reddened face.

“I’ve never seen anything so damn beautiful.” 

If it’s even possible, your cheeks burn even more furiously. You swat his fingers away.

“Shut up,” you whine, looking around at your bodies, joined in the filled tub. You inwardly cringe when you notice there’s more pools of milky white fluid than there are bubbles at this point. The amount of cum he gave you every time was nothing short of a phenomenon. 

“It’s everywhere!” you shriek dramatically, hitting his chest above you, “We need to get cleaned up!”

Rafayel’s grin widens, and before you can ask him what he’s scheming, he uses the finger still on your cheek to smear his cum around.

“Rafayel!” you yelp, trying your best to inch away from his filthy fingers, coated in both your arousals, struggling due to the limited space of the tub.

“But you look so exquisite like this,” Rafayel murmurs, fingers capturing your chin, pulling you up to look at him, his eyes hazy and sated, “My beautiful Queen…”

He dips down to press a lingering kiss to parted lips, mouth hitched open in excitement. When he pulls away he grins playfully at you.

“Besides, it’s good for your skin. Lemurians have a lot of uses, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Is that why your skin always looks so flawless?”

Rafayel’s cheeks flare, his eyes averting from yours, “Okay! Let’s get cleaned up shall we?”

You smile widely, unable to contain your fit of giggles. Your body shakes with your laughter, making the water ripple, “You’ve tried it haven’t you?”

Rafayel’s sheepish expression answers your question, “No! Shut up!”

“I knew it!”

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[whencyclopedia]

The Sixteenth-Century Massacre of the Waldensians of Mérindol

As the Reformation developed in France in the first half of the 16th century, there were several episodes of severe repression which preceded the Wars of Religion (1562-1598). These were times of great hardship and oppression against those who embraced Protestant teachings. One notable chapter of persecution took place in the Luberon region of France against the Waldensians (Vaudois), the spiritual descendants of Pierre Waldo, which led to the Mérindol massacre in 1545.

Early Persecution

Early in the 12th century, Pierre Waldo (l. 1140–1218) took a vow of poverty, confirmed by Pope Alexander III (served 1159–1181), and became the leader of a sect known as the Waldensians. Waldo was among the forerunners of the Reformation who sought to purify and reform the Catholic Church from within through a return to apostolic teaching. Initially, he did not seek separation from the Catholic Church or the establishment of a new sect. In time, partly due to their emphasis on preaching the gospel in the local language, Waldo and his followers were banned from preaching by Pope Lucius III (served 1181–1185). Waldo was excommunicated at the Council of Verona in 1184, and Waldensian teaching was condemned at the Fourth Lateran Council in 1215.

Exiled from their city of Lyon, the Waldensians spread to the valleys of Dauphiné and the Alps of Piedmont, to Languedoc, and to Spain. The Inquisition failed to stamp them out and many of the exiles settled in the Luberon region in southern France. The Waldensians sought to live in peace in the sheltered valleys of the Luberon where they drained the swamps and cultivated lands belonging to Italian lords. It is said that people inhabiting the plains feared the Waldensians who had a reputation as sorcerers. At that time, they had spiritual leaders called uncles (barbes) in their language who had authority over the people. The barbes were considered wise and venerable, and mysterious powers were attributed to them. Their brothers in Dauphiné had previously suffered persecution and many had fled to Luberon for safety.

The archbishop of Aix feared that this concentration of heretics might embrace the Reformation. Around 1530, the inquisitor Jean de Roma was sent to investigate the Waldensians where he committed atrocities and enriched himself at their expense. As a result of this initial violence, two Waldensians, Maurel and Masson, crossed the frontiers to Alsace and Switzerland to confer with Reformed leaders in Geneva. They were persuaded of the need to reform their beliefs, to definitively break with superstitious practices, and were sent back with letters for their brothers in Mérindol. Only Maurel arrived home safely; Masson was arrested and burned alive at Dijon. A decisive meeting took place in Piedmont in 1532 with Waldensian leadership from different regions. William Farel (l. 1489–1565), over six days, convinced them to preserve only two sacraments, baptism and the Eucharist, without the mystical sense given by the Catholic Church. Farel welcomed them to the Reformed faith with enthusiasm and called them “the elder sons of the Reformation.”

Continue reading...

[chigirisprincess]

　 ˚ ᡴꪫ You Could Be Mine Tonight; Interlude I

— Chigiri Hyōma

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, gn!afab!reader, chigiri puts the go in egoist, first meetings, author self insert, selfship lore heavy, reader is italian-american living in italy, set in verona, some italian dialogue, first meetings, ⊹ Run time. 1.4k ⊹ Note. Fawn is back again with yet another series of sorts. This is my selfship lore with mister Chigiri Hyōma and will be expanded upon whenever I am inspired so enjoy! <3

The fair city of Verona fed the romantic daydreamer that crawled into the deep recesses of your chest as a child. In spite of spending your last six months settling in, you couldn’t fathom ever tiring of waltzing through the old, cobbled streets and imagining the lives led by those living over five hundred years ago in the middle ages. Idling wonder if they too ran their fingertips across the smooth, rosy marbled walls. Or, if they gazed upon the stars while resting in the Piazza dei Signori as you did when your red wine tinged evenings drew to a close.

You supposed the reality of those living all those years ago were far more bleak than proposed by the Middle English romances you studied during your undergraduate. Still, it didn’t mean you couldn’t imagine a display of courtly love spilling over the aged edge of Juliet’s balcony; a gallant knight who was far more romantic than the whiny Romeo, and a demure lady who was more akin to a blossomed flower than a person. With the sky, a most remarkable shade of blue– far more dazzling than anything you’d seen back home– and the scent of sweet flowers carried on the breeze, it was difficult not to lose your thoughts within a fairytale-like dream.

A rich waft of freshly brewed espresso rouses you from your thoughts, bringing you back to the small café you’ve made into your home for the afternoon. Sparing a glance back to your laptop where your latest novel sits open, you sigh before snapping it shut. As romantic as Verona was, your fantasies failed to inspire an ending to the chapter you’ve spent the last month working on. You blamed the lack of direction on your recent move, halfway across the world from North America to Europe but in the droll truth you suspected your lack of romantic experience was beginning to impede upon your ability to write a romance novel. Shoving your things into your bag, you offered a wave to the barista before clearing out.

The next building over was calling your name.

It was a small, family owned bookstore that had been passed down at least six generations and resided between two restaurants. The current owner, Signor Fiorentino seemed perpetually miffed by the constant racket amassed by the staff when on break but was always amenable when offered fresh biscotti. Which was precisely why you picked up an extra one at the café in case you decided to head over.

The small bell above the door rings as it opens, announcing your presence, “Ciao signore!” You greet, shuffling through the cramped rows of shelving. 

A smile tugs at your lips as you reach the small checkout counter where he sits. Signor Fiorentino is perched upon a well worn stool, thumbing through a copy of today's newspaper.

“Buonasera Signorina,” he grins at the sight of you, his smile growing wider when he takes notice of the biscotti in your hand, “Is that for me?”

You hold your hand out in response, passing it over to him, “You know it is,” you say, resting your elbows on the counter, “So, have you gotten anything new in stock?”

Your hopeful tone dwindles when Fiorentino narrows his eyes at you.

“Buttering  me up with sweets are you?”

“What! No!” You frown, “But … I was wondering if you’d heard back about that custom bound copy of Romeo and Juliet?”

The expression he wears tells you he hasn’t. With a sigh, he shakes his head, “The seller says it's on their backlog and they’ll get back to me soon.”

You wear your emotions on your face as if it were your favourite sweater, never one to masterfully disguise the disappointment you felt. It was your greatest flaw that loved to rear its ugly head at the most inopportune moments. Like now. The corners of your mouth dipped into a petulant frown, your bottom lip jutting out. You became a mirror image to the kindergarteners you taught English to. They were cuter than you when they did it.

“Cara mia do not stress!”

Sometimes, he speaks to you as if he were your family. You allow him to far more often than you should. He reminded you of your nonno, you supposed that you reminded him of his children and grandchildren who had long since immigrated to North America. Reaching over the small counter, he rests a weathered, spotty hand onto your forearm.

“I’m not,” you mutter with a small sigh, “I’m just frustrated.”

He gives your arm a sympathetic squeeze.

“I know.”

Returning his smile, you turn to the dozens of book lined shelves in search of something to satiate the burn of disappointment you wished to mask. Your fingers graze against the lip of the dust covered shelves as you pass through them, floating around the shop as though you were a spectre rather than a customer. You settle in front of the stack of mediaeval literature. Pursing your lips, you tilt your head to get a better view of the title, Amorosa Visione. A long, narrative poem. It wasn’t exactly your first pick, you much preferred Middle English romances but you needed to branch out every once in a while. Pulling the book off the shelf, you took a step backwards as you skimmed the blurb printed on the back.

Another step backward causes you to bump into another person.

So engrossed in your reading, you hadn’t noticed they joined you in the aisle. Dipping your head down in apology, you offer them a smile.

They scoff, looking you up and down.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise, hoping they spoke English, “I didn’t see you there.”

His expression only worsens, “Yeah, right like I’m supposed to believe that,” he snips in English, flicking a strand of bright red hair from his eyes. 

He turns toward you, standing with their arms crossed over his chest. His sunglasses slip down his nose as he peers at you. You blink in shock, face warming at the sight of him. He was pretty, unfairly so. With long, pretty lashes that frame sharp magenta eyes which cut right through you with his glare. Shaking your head, you remind yourself that he was a jerk who was irrationally annoyed over you accidentally bumping into him.

“I … I don’t understand what you mean,” you frown, “It was an accident, I promise I wouldn’t bump into a stranger on purpose.”

“You don’t recognise me?” The man asks, pushing his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger.

You shift uncomfortably under his gaze. He seems to pick you apart with his clipped words and harsh stare as if he were given hours to scrutinise each miniscule part of you rather than a few measly minutes.

“Am I supposed to?” You cock your head to the side, “Are you an influencer or something?”

You give him a once over, taking in his attire. He was dressed fairly casually but still looked rather put together. The accent that shrouded his words told you that he too wasn’t from Verona, but nothing in the way he carried himself struck any ounce of familiarity. The arrogance and accusation that lingered in his narrowed gaze seemed to align with your view of celebrities and micro influencers. 

Disgust flashes in his eyes,“No, I’m a professional soccer player,” he explains, “Manshine City, ever heard of it?”

“Okay …”

“I thought all Italians were huge soccer fans,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders.

You stifle an eye roll,“That’s a kinda a misconception like how not all Canadians are obsessed with hockey and say “aboot”” your comment doesn’t elicit a laugh like you hoped it would, instead he gives you a strange look, “Besides, even if it wasn’t we tend to be pretty nationalistic.” 

“Right.”

A lull passes between the two of you before he speaks again.

“I apologise,” he says, almost begrudgingly, “For assuming you were some desperate fan.”

Biting back a snarky remark, you laughed to yourself. Were all athletes this full of themselves? 

“No apology needed.”

He purses his lips before nodding his head.

“Just uh, don’t give the shop owner the same attitude unless you want to be chased out of here with a broom.”

The corners of his lips quirk up into the smallest of smiles, “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

Tucking your book beneath your arm, you slink out of the aisle with a relieved sigh. You hoped, whatever other soccer players that may have been crawling about this fair city were certainly less egotistical than him.

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.

networks; @houseofsolisoccasum @interstellar-inn

[noelle-tea]

Oliver's backstory!! TW for SA, abuse, death, animal death, bullying, and trauma.

Oliver Love, 25, born in Tealand, Chambridge. Their mother (Verona Love) was a human, and their father (Geralt Love) was a fruit bat chimera. Their parents were very wealthy, which caused them to be quite spoiled. Their father was a bit of an odd man but was still kind, and their mother was nice and caring. Their city was populated mainly by chimeras, and they had many friends.

When she was 6, she went outside to play tea party with her toys. She suddenly noticed the smell of smoke, grabbed her teddy bear, and ran back to her house. She was horrified to find her house and city engulfed in flames. She closed her eyes tight and sobbed, hoping it was all a horrible nightmare.

Next thing she knew, she was being sent to an orphanage in Matchester. She gripped onto her teddy bear, the last remaining thing of her parents and her home. When she stepped into the orphanage, she noticed that none of her friends were there. Everything she used to know was gone.

Pups life in the orphanage was horrible. Pup was bullied by the children, and the adults were just as cruel. Pup had no one to play with, and often talked to pups toys. Even at school pup didn't get a break. Pup was often physically pushed around by other kids and none of the adults noticed or just straight up didn't care.

When they were 12, they found a stray dog. They fed him and the dog started following them. They became friends with the dog, and came to visit and feed him every day. On an unfortunate day they visited the dog and saw some bullies beating him up. They begged them to stop, but the bullies laughed at them and pushed them to the ground.

They got up, and found the dog gravely injured. They took him to a vet but unfortunately he ended up dying from his injuries. They were devastated their only friend was dead, until they had an idea. They dug him up, and took him to an abandoned building to try to bring him back to life. After many failed attempts, they're about to give up until… it worked! It actually worked!

She continues taking care of the dog, and takes an interest in mad science. She practices reviving animals and various other experiments. She even trains the dog to help her! (aka training him to bring her things) She still has it rough, but her experiments and her best friend keep her going.

In high school, she was a generally quiet kid. Her hair was a mess, she was tired all the time, and didn't really want to hang out with anyone. However, one day a cat chimera approached her at lunch. He introduced himself as Katelyn. Oliver was confused, but hesitantly introduces herself too. They talk about science for a while, and he tells her that he has something to show her, but she can't tell anyone. He shows her a robot he made, and she is stunned.

Pup tells him that pups been thinking of a way to make a combination of biology and robotics, and they both come up with a theoretical experiment of a robot with human organs. The bell rings and pup asks to be his friend, and he accepts. He also says they can hang out again sometime.

Katelyn introduces them to her friend a few days later at lunch. She introduces Oliver, and introduces him as Charlie. They hold their hand out and before they can say anything, he aggressively shakes it. He tells them that he's also a scientist, and is interested in chemistry. He also tells them that his mom has a lab they can use.

They are a bit put off by all of his energy, but note the part about the lab. Katelyn apologizes for his eccentricity, but they say it's fine. The bell rings and they go to their respective classes. Later that day, Charlie witnesses a kid bullying them. He goes to defend them, attacking the bully. A teacher sees this and gives them all detention. He apologizes, but Oliver thanks him for defending them. He smiles and says it was no problem.

In their Junior year, a teacher tells them to stay after class. They ask if they're in trouble, but he assures them they're not. Then he starts… touching them. They try to push him away, but fail. They beg him to stop but he doesn't. When he lets them leave he tells them to never tell anyone about this, or else. They are horrified.

The next day she tells Katelyn and Charlie about what happened. She begs them not to tell anyone else, especially not any adults. They promise they won't. They both try to comfort her the best they can. It's not enough.

While walking in the hallway, someone bumps into her. This triggers her, and she attacks them. After realizing what she did, she runs away and hides. After school, another kid pushes her and calls her a monster. She attacks them in anger, but she goes too far. She looks at what she did in fear and exhilaration. She takes the body to her lab to hide the evidence, and decides to experiment on them. It gave her a sick sense of enjoyment and retribution.

They start kidnapping other students to experiment on. Katelyn notices that students are starting to disappear, and Oliver's odd demeanor. She tells them that she knows whats going on, which makes them freak out. She assures them that she'll keep their secret, since they kept hers. They calm down, but still feel a bit on edge.

A week before prom night, Charlie mentions how they want to go, but have no one to go with. Oliver asks if she could go with them, as friends of course. They excitedly accept and invite her. On prom night, she tries on a few dresses, and ends up settling on a beautiful light pink dress. When she goes to meet Charlie, they're wearing a ridiculous looking suit. Somehow, they still look kind of cute…

At prom, they both have an amazing time! They eat snacks, and pup even asks to dance with Charlie. Charlie accepts, although he seems a bit nervous. Pup wonders why, but they're both having fun so pup quickly forgets about it. They both leave, and pup thanks them for a great time.

A couple months later they decide to take Charlie to see their lab. As they enter, they look around and realize they missed a bloodstain. They panic but try to keep calm and composed. They ask him to be his lab partner, and he pauses, which worries them. He accepts the offer, and they sigh with relief. They explains what this job entails, and he seems strangely chill with it. They don't really care though, as long as he's there to help.

Charlie and Oliver went to college together, but Katelyn moved away. After college, they buy a mansion and Charlie moves in with them. They continue doing their experiments together, until a villain organization contacts her. They ask her to work for them as a villain, and she responds that before she can accept their offer Charlie must be able to work with her. They accept Oliver's proposal, and they start working under the organization and are given new villain names.

After a while they start getting the hero organization's attention. They have a hero sent after them, and they fight. The battle is intense, and as she gets the upper hand the hero suddenly slashes her eye. She cries and yells in pain, and Charlie quickly comes to her aid. The hero leaves, and Charlie yells at the hero for being a coward.

[mylas-stories]

You need me.

Yan! Tybalt x Innocent! Fem! Reader

(Cred to @/ cold--carnage for the divider)

(tw: murder, mentions of stalking) A/N: This is a gift for the lovely, @ladyinbl00d ! THANKS FOR THE IDEA :3

He knew how dangerous Verona was, but seeing his darling in the jaws of death realized just how much you needed him.

.

.

.

The smell of smoke wafted in Verona's sinful air, with predators lurking all around. Yes, even in the holiest city, with Jesus and Mary peering down at their misguided children, the lambs of the mortal realm prance around in the jaws of the devil.

But you ? You were untouched, and your boyfriend, Tybalt, knew that too.

"Come on, Ty ! I'm just going to the store !" You desperately pleaded, with your arms around his neck, and your eyes repeatedly blinking at him, already leaving him in your innocent little trance. He knew about how you controlled him. One word, and he'd drop everything and do what you told him. But above all, he wanted your safety. He knew how being with him was dangerous enough, but in Verona? It's practically a death wish.

"This late at night? Come on, doll, be smart about this", his calloused hand caressed your soft cheek, and his other hand laid on your waist. He wanted you close to him tonight, and what's the harm in that? He spent his whole day making deals, interrogating civilians, signing off payments, dealing with his uncle's remarks about the future of the family. Times like those are why he's thankful that only his cousins know about you. 

You were his little secret. His little treasure. And he couldn't let anyone have you. Let anyone even see you. His poor lamb could be eaten alive by ravenous wolves, and what boyfriend would he be if he let that happen? No, no. That won’t do. Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, “Ty, I am being smart about this! I’ve been out late at night before, and I was fine!” “You were near people.” “And I’ll be near people now! Besides, we need more groceries”, your hand laid on top of the one on your cheek, and you lean into his warmth. God, you’d kill him. “I’ll come back, untouched, unharmed. You know I will.”  But that’s what he hoped. He didn’t know whether you’d come back unharmed, untouched, or even alive. It scared him, and it beat him down. The ways you’d save him, regain his sanity, made him feel alive. A simple kiss from him would make him change his ways and become a new man. And he knew that good things would end for him. The black cat was always a foreboding omen of death, and he embraced it. But not for you. He couldn’t let Death part you both. He’d keep you locked in his heart, where no one can touch you, and-

An idea sprouted in his mind of barren soil. If you believe you’re so safe in the night’s embrace, he’d just have to show you it's dark reality, and let you run back to his light on “your own terms”.

(Divider cred to lilaquette) You skipped to the beat of the faint music of clubs and looked up at the lights. It was their deceitfully holy constellation. Booze dripped from the stars, and the smoke of the nocturnal lovers’ cigarettes could’ve confused anyone for the smell of a homely campfire. That’s what it was. Home. And, who’d be afraid of home? No one could break in, or hurt their home, not in your mind. “What was Tybalt so afraid about?” You asked yourself mentally. “The night is beautiful, and a time for people to be alive.” You simply reminisced on how you met Tybalt, not noticing a man in a black shirt and ski mask cornering you with one gun in his hand, and the other in his pocket. “Do you need any help with that?” You felt a nozzle on the back of your head, and you froze. You should’ve listened to Tybalt, but where did he come from? Why is he here for you? Never mind that, how will Tybalt feel? He’ll come back seeing you with cuts all over you…. will you even come back home? Your body tensed and shook as you heard a loud “BANG!” and sobbed, until you realized that…you were alive? No pain shot throughout your body, no injuries, and you heard a gun drop on the ground. It was the man that, you assumed, was about to rob you and…. Tybalt? His expression was solemn, as his freshly fired gun was twirled in his fingers. He walked over to you, but you quickly filled in the gap, almost causing the two of you to fall. “You were right, Ty! You were! I shouldn’t have gone out tonight! I-I should’ve stayed with you, and-” “Hey.” His simple words shut down your little ramble. “You’re safe now, doll. This night won’t hurt you anymore.” His arm snaked around your waist, and he pulled you closer to him. “Let’s go home, yeah?” “Yeah….” You leaned against his touch, all shaken up, as he appeared laid back, but was truly excited, but he wouldn’t show that. He wouldn’t show you that he slowly followed you to the store. He wouldn’t show you that he paid someone to scare you, not like he’d have to pay now anyways. He just wants to show you his care, his love. He knew you were going to come to him eventually. He knew you needed him.

(A/N: First Yan!Balt fic on this account, how we feeling?)

[free-for-all-fics]

Romeo and Juliet Prompts! These are written with the Hungarian musical production in mind, (seriously it slaps and it slaps hard. It’s so dark, gothic, and sexy.) but I guess any adaptation of the play could work. Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of these ideas and I’d love to read it! 🎭🧡

1. You’re Mercutio’s best friend and are secretly in love with his uncle, Prince Escalus. You know you shouldn’t be and your love is unrequited. He’s so much older than you, and he’s too great and too high above you. He’s a Prince and the leader of Verona, while you’re just a commoner of low birth who comes from nothing. You’re not a woman of noble blood nor do you come from a family of status like the Montagues or Capulets. In your late teens and still unmarried, you’re considered an old maid and undesirable to most men. One or both of your parents may be dead already and you’ve been managing on your own. You’ve only shared a few words with the Prince while visiting Mercutio. His position is an important one and he’s always so busy; Verona is a demanding city to watch over so you doubt he’s ever really noticed you.

You thought you were being discreet and hiding your love for the Prince well, but Mercutio is an observant man. He’s known for years of your love for his uncle, and is sick and tired of watching you pine for him. He encourages you to stop skirting around and finally do something about it. Just walk into Escalus’ study and confess your feelings for him. Mercutio is stubborn and won’t let you leave or run away until you tell his uncle you love him. If he rejects you, at least you’ll know for sure and can move on with your life. You’re terrified you’ll only make a fool of yourself, but Mercutio has a feeling his uncle won’t deny you. The sooner you can start courting officially, the better. Mercutio jokes that at the speed you and his uncle have been going, he’ll be dead before you marry. After his untimely murder by Tybalt, you and Escalus are both deep in grief. You finally decide to marry, posthumously fulfilling Mercutio’s wish.

2. You’re Prince Escalus’ illegitimate daughter, but you’re still able to live comfortably and later achieve a measure of social standing due to your father’s noble blood. You may be a bastard, but you’re the daughter and so far only child to the Prince of Verona, which is nothing to scoff at. When your mother first came to Prince Escalus with news she was with his child, he wasn’t so sure if you were actually of his blood. Due to his demanding position as Prince, they hardly saw each other beyond sharing his bed. For all he knew, your mother could’ve been lying and trying to pass off another man’s child as his for some sort of monetary compensation or other personal gain.

But the moment you were born further confirmed you couldn’t be anyone else’s child but his - You had his eyes. As you grew up, you resembled him more and more in both looks and mannerisms/personality. He tries to be a good father to you, but he’s often absent because to his never-ending duties and the restrictions of the time period. He can’t raise you, but he’ll send you or your mother money or do what he can to support you. When he’s too preoccupied with his obligations, he may send out his servants to keep an eye on you and report back to him so he knows you’re happy and in good health.

As you’ve grown up, you’ve very rarely spent time with or even talked to your father. The only time you’re able to be alone with him is if he summons for you. You’ve only been inside the castle a handful of times, but you’ve cherished each of your father’s visits. You appreciate his efforts to make time for you, knowing it’s near impossible and a rare treat if he can sit down and take a break. As you grow older, you can see the toll the feud between the Capulets and Montagues is taking on your poor father as he tries to keep the peace. You wish there was something you could do to help him and end the feud. After Mercutio and Paris’ untimely deaths, he finally orders the rivaling families to reconcile and make peace. Meanwhile, he wants to marry you off so that he knows you’ll be safe and taken care of after his own inevitable death. He can’t bear to lose more of his kin to the blade or the plague that’s ravishing the country. Your arranged husband is your cousin, Valentine. He’s Mercutio’s brother and one of Escalus’ only surviving kinsman.

3. You’re a servant in the Capulet household and Tybalt’s secret lover. Thanks to the seemingly never-ending animosity that exists between these noble families, breaches of the peace have become an all-too-common occurrence on the streets of Verona. You’ve been involved in fights against Montague servants at least twice now, wanting to defend your lover’s family against their sworn enemy. You’d always end up with bruises or cuts, and another servant has had to patch you up. Tybalt would sneak into your bedchamber to check on you after everyone else has retired for the night. He’d scold you for being so reckless and make you swear to him never to involve yourself in a brawl for his sake ever again. He appreciates your show of loyalty to him and his family, but he hates whenever you get caught up in the middle of the violence. He’s been infected with harshness and a cold sense from an early age. His childhood was stolen and thus his life is full of violence. But that doesn’t mean he wants your life to suffer the same fate as his. Seeing your purple eye or the blood seeping through your bandages makes his temper rise. The Montague household dared to lay a violent hand upon you, so he wants the blood of a Montague on his sword for their offense.

Another brawl breaks out but you keep your promise to Tybalt and stay out of it, instead watching as a bystander within the jeering crowd. Once Prince Escalus arrives on the scene to put a stop to the altercation, he warns the street brawlers that they must put down their swords and listen to him, or he will have them tortured. He severely chastises both households for disturbing the peace thrice now and issues an edict: If any member of the Montague or Capulet family disturbs the peace again, they will be put to death.

After Romeo secretly marries Juliet and refuses to fight Tybalt, you try to intervene and dissuade him from drawing his sword, worried that the Prince will have him killed. But Tybalt is too consumed by his anger and hatred of the Montagues, and your efforts are for naught. Unlike you, Tybalt believes the Prince's warning is an idle threat. No one else really believes that he would execute Capulet or Montague.

Desperate to stop the heated duel between Tybalt and Mercutio, you throw yourself between the combatants. It happens so fast that your lover doesn’t have enough time to react or stop himself before he accidentally stabs you instead of Mercutio. You had inadvertently shielded him with your body. Your wound may or may not be fatal. While you’re breathing heavily and trying to stop the bleeding, you can hear the hoof beats of the Prince’s horse fast approaching.

4. Ever after AU: You secretly attend the Capulet ball with your brother Romeo and his friends. While he falls in love with Juliet at first sight, you catch the attention of Tybalt. It’s a masquerade ball and everyone is wearing masks, so he doesn’t know who you are nor do you know who he is. You’re his dancing partner for almost the entire night. In those blissful hours you spend together, you never tell him your name or let him remove your mask. Are you being coy on purpose or do you really not want to tell him your name? He takes you by the hand to somewhere quieter where you can be hidden from the crowd. It’s in this secret place that he kisses you. Just when he takes off his mask and you realize who he is, he sees your brother kiss Juliet. He flies into a rage and storms over to Lord Capulet, while you and Romeo take that as your cue to leave. If you stayed any longer, Tybalt would surely try to kill your brother. When Tybalt realizes you’re gone and he never got your name, he scours Verona in search of you, his mystery maiden.

You’re later sent by Romeo to the Capulet house to deliver a message to Juliet for him, but you’re intercepted in the gardens by Tybalt. You don’t want to betray Romeo by revealing the true reason you’re here, so you make up a lie that you’ve come to see him. He pushes you away, claiming he’s in love with another woman and is preoccupied with searching for her. He’d never want anything to do with the likes of you, a disgusting Montague. He insults you and your family name, not realizing the other woman he speaks so highly of is you. You dress up and meet at more masques, but always slip away before he can see your face. If he persists in his pursuit of you and asks for a name, any name, you may give him a false one.

You accept Tybalt’s invite to attend Prince Escalus’ ball, wanting to tell him the truth yourself. But your secret is cruelly exposed in front of all of Verona by Lady Capulet when she tears your costume and rips your mask off. Tybalt is in denial. Dear God, it can’t be true! He couldn’t have fallen in love with a Montague! Lady Capulet accuses you of being a lying, devious little pretender and orders you to bow in front of Tybalt and tell him the truth, you insolent fraud. This is a nightmare. You’re scared and crying but don’t know what else to do to get him to believe you, so you tearfully kiss him on the lips. When he realizes your kiss is the same as his mystery woman, he steps backwards in shock. You were one and the same all this time.

He spurns you in front of the entire court and refuses to listen despite your pleadings. He does nothing to help you and abandons you. Prince Escalus looks on in concern as you fall apart and run away from the castle just as it begins to storm. It isn’t until many days later that Tybalt will realize what a horrible mistake he’s made in betraying your trust and throwing you to the wolves. Prince Escalus or someone else may confront him later and call him out on the disastrous scene the Capulets created in the middle of the masque. He or she may express disappointment in Tybalt’s harsh treatment of you. Tybalt has always been his parents’ puppet. They taught him to thirst for blood. What they wanted was burnt into him and he always did without question what their thirst for revenge demanded. Tybalt is told in no uncertain terms that his parents have been dead for a long time, and if he still won’t become his own man or yield in his hatred of your family after this, then he doesn’t deserve you.

Either way, the young Capulet will come to his senses sooner or later. He’ll want to find you and beg your forgiveness. This feud has taken so much from both of your families. So much blood has been shed and lives have been lost on both sides, and for what? Pride? Ego? It all seems so meaningless now. He’s wasted so much time hating your family. When he finds you, he’s going to call you by your real name and kneel before you not as a Capulet, but as a man in love. Could you find it in your heart to forgive him and be his wife?

5. You’re Juliet’s older sister and your parents arrange for you to marry Prince Escalus, even though he’s so much older than you and you barely know him. You’re only a girl, a woman, so your wishes and wants don’t matter. Your parents are unwilling to postpone the wedding, despite your pleadings. You’re reaching an age where being an unmarried woman is unacceptable, and your parents refuse to let you be an old maid. The Prince isn’t getting any younger either and will need an heir. You’re scared of not only marrying a stranger, but living up to the expectations of being Princess of Verona. You lock yourself in your bedchamber and don’t let anyone in to see you, not even Juliet or your Nurse. Tonight you will mourn for the life you wanted but couldn’t have, and tomorrow early you will marry the Prince.

While neither you nor Escalus are overtly enthused at your wedding, your husband does his best to fulfill his marriage duties and take care of you. He knows you’re scared about consummating your marriage, so he’ll be gentle. He wants to make you feel safe and give you pleasure on your wedding night. Don’t pay attention to any witnesses that may be in the room. Just focus on him and only him, and let him help you relax. If you ask him to stop, he will. He knows this isn’t the life you would’ve chosen for yourself, but he wants to make you happy even if you never love him. While he’s your husband by law and you’re now Princess of Verona, he hopes that even if you never fall in love, that you can at least be friends. He hopes you’ll grow fond of each other, in time. You may not love each other now, but if a child is born of your union and love comes later, he’ll be just as elated. As the leaders of Verona, you each have specific obligations to fulfill, but you’ll still try to make the best of it.

6. You’re Romeo’s sister and are arranged to marry Tybalt to bring an end to the feud once and for all. Enough is enough, it’s time to let this long-standing grudge go. The Capulets and Montagues are wealthy and established families, both alike in dignity. So for all practical purposes, they should be allies rather than enemies. Your marriage was one of obligation and convenience, and your new husband doesn't want anything to do with you at first because of your family history. He’s still in love with Juliet and may either consummate your marriage begrudgingly or not at all. After you’re caught in the middle of a random brawl or attacked in the street, he saves you. You thank him but he waves it off, claiming it’s his duty since you’re his wife and he’s your husband.

He doesn’t realize he’s grown to love you until you part ways for a while and he hears false news claiming you succumbed to the Plague. Believing you dead, he mourns for you in private and nearly gets himself killed in his recklessness due to his grief, until you return to Verona and explain that there was a miscommunication and your servant was misinformed. ‘Twas not you who died, but a cousin or friend you were visiting. And it ‘twas not the Plague but childbirth to which she had succumbed. She had a similar hair color and body type to you, so anyone watching her funeral from afar could’ve easily mistaken her body for yours. The babe lived and you were delayed in returning home because you were asked to stay by her grieving widower until a nurse could be found.

7. You were Juliet’s sister who was betrothed to marry Count Paris. You were the city’s most beautiful rose, but you became infected with and later succumbed to the Plague. While spending your final days isolated in quarantine, you knew you were dying and that your chances of surviving were slim to none. In your final lucid moments, you had a mourning ring made for your intended, composed of a lock of your hair under crystal set round with diamonds. Paris purportedly burst into tears upon receiving it. Unbeknownst to you, your cousin, Tybalt, was also in love with you and mourned for you in private. He never dared to confess his unrequited love for you while you were still living. When your body was first interred into the Capulet crypt, neither man could kiss you for fear of infection. So instead they kissed their hands and then bid you a farewell kiss from afar.

Even years after you were gone, Paris and Tybalt still mourned for you and what could’ve been. They visited you in the Capulet crypt (sometimes individually, sometimes together) and left flowers for you. Some days they’d stay with your body for hours. Paris was so determined to marry your younger sister, Juliet, because she reminded him of you. His love for her is what kept him going. If it wasn’t for her beauty and spirit so uncannily resembling yours, he feared he would’ve succumbed to his grief and committed self-murder to join you, despite knowing it was illegal and a mortal sin. When Juliet shared a kiss with Romeo at the Capulet ball, Tybalt was so incensed and blinded by his hatred for the Montagues that he later slew Mercutio in the streets of Verona, only to be slain in turn by Romeo’s blade. In your cousin’s dying moments, he prayed to God to reunite with you in heaven.

After Juliet drank the sleeping potion to feign death and evade her arranged marriage to Paris, he returned to the Capulet crypt to mourn for yet another would-be bride. After losing his duel with Romeo, the young Momtague drags Paris's body inside the Capulet tomb and lays him out on the floor beside you, fulfilling Paris's dying wish. He prays for God to have mercy on him and reunite him with you, much in the same manner as Tybalt had done before him.

8. Much Ado About Nothing AU (sort of): You’re the illegitimate daughter of Lord Montague but are unaware of the circumstances surrounding your birth. You grow up with Tybalt in the brothel, raised by your whore mother while his father teaches him to treat women as objects and nothing more. But despite his father’s teachings, you fall in love with him when you become a woman. He treats the other whores as objects to use, crawling into their warm beds but not caring for any of them. Except you. You’re the only woman Tybalt loves, so you and he have a secret affair. At first it was just sex but became much more over time. He opened up to you and you became his confidante, comforting him and listening whenever he needed a shoulder to lean on. You were the only one who could calm his unpredictable temper. You both know you’d never be permitted to marry due to your low breeding, so you conspire to elope. You seek the counsel of Friar Lawrence, and he marries you and Tybalt in secret. For a few days, you live in newly wedded bliss. Consummating your marriage was far from the first time you had been intimate with each other, but your wedding night just felt different, in a good way.

But the servants of the Capulet and Montague households know everything and somehow the truth of your lineage is brought up. The rumors spread, and soon the streets of Verona are abuzz with gossip from the villagers regarding Lord Montague’s bastard daughter and her liaisons with a Capulet. When Tybalt hears you’re technically a Montague, he publicly shames and abandons you despite your pleadings for him to wait. You insist that you really had no idea Lord Montague was your father and implore for Tybalt to listen to you, etc. but he doesn’t. Though illegitimate, you still have Montague blood in your veins and Tybalt is disgusted. Unbeknownst to him, Romeo and Juliet have also secretly wed, so even though he spurned your marriage and left you to the wolves, he’s still related to the Montagues.

Do you later commit self-murder out of grief? Do you conspire with Friar Lawrence to fake your death so Tybalt will learn a very valuable lesson of what life is without you, as well as be shown the destructive results of not having enough faith in his wife? Will Tybalt realize he can’t live without you and ask for your forgiveness, your lineage be damned? Is Tybalt later chastised by Friar Lawrence, Benvolio, or another character for his betrayal of your trust and told to come to his senses and get over himself? If he doesn’t yield in his hatred for the Montagues, then maybe he doesn’t deserve you. Does his hatred of your family and conflicted feelings towards you drive him to later get killed by Romeo’s hand when he challenges him to a duel? What happens next is all up to you.

9. You’re raised in the Capulet household as Juliet’s sister. Your mother, Lady Capulet, is eager to find husbands for both you and Juliet, loving you both equally. Instead of Juliet, you’re the Capulet daughter Count Paris seeks to marry. He had already approached your father early in the morning and asked for his permission to take you in marriage, carrying a large bouquet of beautiful flowers for you. Paris hopes you’ll be his wife and mother to his children.

“I brought flowers for y/n. Please be so kind as to give me permission to marry your lovely daughter! I’m a wealthy man, young and handsome. I want this girl and I’ll get her. I have a house of my own. I don’t need her dowry. I’ll pay. I only want the fair y/n for my wife!”

“Lord Paris, you’ve taken me by surprise. You’ve seen her, she’s not grown up yet. I’m asking you - shouldn’t you wait a little? Wait a little before you marry her. That’d be the clever thing to do. She’ll be at the ball tonight - Just charm her, ask her to dance. But believe me, just look at her. She’s just a child. Don’t marry her too soon!”

Unbeknownst to everyone except Lady Capulet herself, you’re not actually Lord Capulet’s biological daughter. You’re the result of an extramarital affair she had with another man sometime after Lord Capulet’s desire for her dwindled and he started taking mistresses and having affairs with other women. She slept with her husband just enough so the timing of your birth would still match up and she could successfully pass you off as his blood without leaving room for doubt. While having dresses fitted for both you and your sister for an upcoming masquerade ball, your Nurse tells you and Juliet to just look at your mother and that she can always find consolation if your father isn’t in the mood. Despite your mother’s insistence that she’s never cheated on Lord Capulet and has never been with anybody else, you and Juliet share a knowing glance as if to say, “Of course not, mother. Of course you haven’t.”

She tells you and Juliet, in her own words, that “Your father doesn’t love me the way he used to. On our wedding night his desire reached the sky. I was standing there naked and he went wild. That’s how it was. I used to be so beautiful - even more than either of you. No wonder he wanted only me. But as the years passed, his desire became less and less fierce.”

Yours and Juliet’s dresses for the ball are beautiful but more provocative than your father would like. They’re clearly designed to suit your mother’s taste and catch men’s eyes so you and Juliet can secure husbands. Paris dances with you at the ball for most of the night and woos you, despite Tybalt being overprotective and trying to interfere by keeping Paris away from you. As the Prince’s nephew, he’s a very young, handsome and wealthy man. He has a house of his own and has proven he’s more than capable of providing for you for the rest of your lives, but making you happy is another matter. So he spends more than enough time courting you properly and getting to know you.

Following Tybalt’s untimely death at Romeo’s hand, your father finally gives you away to Paris, hoping you can lean on your new husband and forget your grief. You’re set to marry on Thursday, news which makes your husband-to-be ecstatic. You’re not overly enthused due to Tybalt’s death casting a shadow on your heart. He was your favorite cousin and you’ll miss him terribly. But you’re content with your fate; Paris is a good man who truly loves you, but you just can’t get over Tybalt’s death so quickly despite your parents’ good intentions. You’ll be Paris’ joyful bride like your parents want you to be. You know you’ll be expected to give him children, preferably a son, and you just hope you’ll be a better mother than your own was to you and Juliet. You love your Nurse, but you want to raise your future children yourself. What does the future look like for you?

10. You’re Juliet’s sister. Instead of her, Tybalt and Paris are both in love with you. Paris approached your father, Lord Capulet, and sought his permission to marry you, while holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers for you. While Tybalt’s love for you is unspoken. You’re the only woman your cousin has ever loved, but he keeps his feelings to himself. But ever since Paris came along as a rival suitor, both men have been competing for your love. They both hope to win your father’s favor and secure your hand in marriage. Though Lord Capulet had urged him to wait a few years, Paris was still encouraged to woo you at the Capulet ball. When confronted by Tybalt at the masquerade and asked if it’s true, Paris confirms what he already knew, much to his annoyance and dismay.

“Paris, is it true what I’ve heard?”

Yes, Tybalt! I asked for your lovely cousin’s hand!

“But why in such a hurry?”

“So that another man doesn’t set his eye on her, Tybalt.”

Paris says this with a knowing smile, quickly looking Tybalt up and down, as if sizing him up while Tybalt looks away, before walking away to rejoin the dancing and merriment. Paris steals you away from your current dance partner, grabbing your hand while you’re in the middle of a twirl. He tries to keep you to himself as he kisses your hand and pulls you in for another dance, but Tybalt comes between the two of you and ushers Paris away from you. While Tybalt and Paris are busy constantly cutting in and trying to keep you away from the other, you run off somewhere and get caught up in the crowd of party guests. Which man will win your heart and be your husband? Tybalt? Paris? Neither? It’s up to you.

[melis-writes]

THIS REQUEST OMFG MELIS

So one day Michael says he’s going away for a few weeks for business. Obviously by this time, Victoria and Sonny have a fully fledged relationship and affair that nobody has caught onto or figured out about.

Connie is away to NYC with Sandra and their kids. Vito and Carmela are away on vacation with Giuseppe and Ludovica and the guards are off as well while Fredo is dead perhaps and Victorias brothers are in NYC and that Niccolò and Verona joined their grandparents on vacation. The catering and cleaning staff and chauffeurs are off as well.

That leaves the Lake Tahoe compound and estate completely empty for other than Victoria and Sonny… Sonny excuses himself from going to NYC saying he’s going to do some things round the house yknow men things and Victoria’s parents tell her to have some chill time to herself without the kids there and some relaxation without Michael there too…

As the security is away, Victoria knows how to defend herself thank you very much, she and Sonny continue their relationship and affair openly at Lake Tahoe as nobody is there to notice or find out…

They have sex in the living room, dining room, kitchen, pool, yacht, gardens, the cellar, all the rooms in both Victoria’s compound and Sonny’s compound and there is obviously no cameras or security there to catch them… they have a few rounds in each place over those few weeks… they can be as loud as they want and even walk around naked…

But they also have a few rounds in VICTORIA AND MICHAEL’S MARITAL BED 👀🔥👀🔥👀🔥👀🔥

Ofc not long after those sex and love filled weeks together alone, Victoria finds out she’s pregnant and smiles knowingly at the fact it’s undoubtedly Sonny’s baby…

Down astronomically bad for Victonny… WOW. 😶😶 This is as scandalous and steamy as it gets, ESPECIALLY the marital bed part. 😈🙏🏻

Embroiled in your secret affair with your brother-in-law for well over a year, there’s no part of you that wouldn’t use the opportunity for privacy and to get away from hecticness of life and work just to be with Santino.

Even  just standing there and hearing the words you’d been anticipating for weeks to come out of Michael’s mouth telling you; “The Molinari family is expecting Tom and I for business in California. It will be only be for a few weeks as their guest, however…” The rest you completely drowned out.

It was the tingling rush of excitement and relief going through you at the sound of Michael’s absence—not because you had no love or respect for your husband despite your affair you’d never second guess or give up on, but because every part of you yearned and ached in desperation to be with Sonny without all the extra precaution.

Despite sneaking away, pretending to be busy and meeting up elsewhere among the many things you and Sonny did and do to savour every moment spent with one another, not a single soul has even caught wind of slight suspicion about the two of you.

Rarely does it ever align that you and Sonny are completely left alone at the Lake Tahoe compound, but with less family on the grounds of the estate also means less security and enforcement.

Of course, your regular patrol and security will be around the perimeters of the estates closely, but their concern does not lie with the privacy of the residents inside and what they do.

Your own family lives in Long Island and visits periodically every three months for a week whereas Vito and Carmela also spend half of the year back at the Corleone mansion in Staten Island as well.

Newly married to Leonardo, Connie spends most of her time in New York City with her husband frivolously shopping, dining and travelling most of the time and the twins are equally spending time with both of their grandparents while Michael is away.

Naturally due to the lack of family at Lake Tahoe, there’s a paid break also provided for the chauffeurs and catering staff, leaving almost the entire compound empty.

You’ve always been insistent on not having staff do everything around the estate at least for your family, seeing no need for a private chef or chauffer either but none other than Sonny know as to why your insistence on not having them near you much at all has grown more demanding.

Sonny himself would accompany his wife Sandra and the children to visit their in-laws for a few weeks back in Hell’s Kitchen, but excused himself with his own work and being left in the charge of the estate during Michael’s absence.

“Peace and quiet, eh?” Sonny smirks, leaning against the doorway of the study. “Not somethin’ we get so often here like you’d think.”

“Just the way you like it,” you tease back, walking out of the study.

Sonny smacks your ass firmly just as you walk past him, following you. “Just me and  my wife here for the next three weeks like nobody’s business, huh. Except now…” Sonny embraces you from behind, chuckling. “She wants to play hard to get and tease me.”

“I do no such thing,” you purr, leaning your head back and stealing a wet kiss from Sonny’s lips. “You came prepared.”

“You have no idea.” Sonny breathed hotly over your shoulder, looking down the hallway with you. “I got this whole place to my damn self with you. It ain’t a damn fantasy anymore.”

“A-anywhere…” Your breath hitches as you gaze down to see Sonny’s hands roaming up your blouse, squeezing your breasts through your bra.

“I’m gonna take my time with you.” Sonny whispers against the nape of your neck, inching your bra down your chest. “Get a good taste and feel of that sweet pussy… Mike’s car barely took off and you were back in the bathroom suckin’ me off in a heartbeat. Think I should reward you for that.”

“Oh, please.” You whine softly, pressing your back against Sonny’s body only to feel his erection poking against your ass. “I’m yours. I’m all yours, baby. Fucking take me wherever you want.”

“Anytime Mike wants to enjoy a cigarette by the window or sit on the couch—” Sonny squeezes your face, giving it a little shake. “He’s not gonna know I fucked his pretty little wife here and there, is he?”

“Never,” you moan back quietly, feeling Sonny’s free hand toying with your hardened nipple.

“Everywhere, baby.” Sonny’s quick to pull his hands off of you only to snatch down your pencil skirt off your knees before pulling you back.

“Do it.” You gasp out breathily, giggling and turned on by Sonny’s sexual aggressiveness and insistence on stripping you down bit by bit himself.

“For the next three weeks you’re gonna be walkin’ around with me completely naked.” Sonny roams his hands down your thighs, pushing off your skirt and panties by force. “I wanna see every bit of you whenever I want. You got this—” Sonny smacks both of your ass cheeks harshly, “fine fucking ass and these—” his hands then move to squeeze your breasts, fondling them. “Tits and they’re all mine, baby.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes!” You whimper, practically squirming from arousal in Sonny’s grasp.

With nobody, not even your private hired security to gain suspicion as to how long Sonny and you spend in Michael’s estate, moving from there to Sonny’s back and forth for the next few weeks, everything is set in perfection.

Every ounce of sexual frustration and heated desire built up in the two of you is released in every corner of the house both of you only teased and imagined each other fucking in; nothing is off limits.

“O-Oh my God, YES! Y-yes!” Stuttering from the overstimulation, you shriek out a load moan as you bounce up and down on Sonny’s cock—held in a full nelson position. “YES!”

With Sonny’s arms over your thighs and gripping the nape of your neck, your legs are fully spread and up in the air as you’re helplessly fucked on the leather couch you spent so many evenings cuddling up with Michael on.

“You fuck so good, you know that?” Sonny growls in your ear, pounding upwards into your pussy ruthlessly. “Mine, your pussy is mine, isn’t that right?”

“Y-yes, yes!” You nod frantically, unable to stop the quivering in your thighs from edging back your orgasm multiple times.

“Wanna cum on this cock already, huh?” Sonny grunts, smacking your thighs again and again.

“I-I want to, I want to!” You pant, feeling your skin redden from the spanking and your ass slapping back down against Sonny’s waist. “P-please let me—”

“Tell me how much you fuckin’ love this cock.” Sonny pulls a fistful of your hair back, maintaining his swift and quick thrusting. “I know you want it more than Michael’s, don’t you?”

“I do, I—yes, yes!” You squeal, curling your toes from the waves of immense pleasure coursing through you. “I want you m-more—more than Michael. More! I want—” You shakily glance down at Sonny’s thick cock, all ten inches ramming into you. “I want your cock so much!”

Sloppy fucking only continues over the dining table barely three hours later with neither of you having enough.

Keeping one thigh up on the mahogany table and clutching onto the corner, Sonny kept one knee planted firmly on one of the dining tables and a perfect view and angle of your ass.

“I’ve never wanted someone as badly as you.” Sonny breathed over your back, having you completely pinned down on the table. “So fuckin’ much, baby. God, you drive me crazy.”

“Sonny, S-Sonny—” Your voice quivers with each rough thrust in your ass and Sonny shoving three fingers into your dripping pussy. “Oh my God, yes… Like that—right there. Oooh!”

Switching back and forth on both holes, your body gives into Sonny again and again, careless to squirt and let your cum drip off the wood.

“Keep cummin’ baby. Show me how much you fucking like it,” Sonny grins devilishly, spreading your ass open. “Don’t waste a single drop for me.”

Just as Sonny licked up the mixture of his and your cum out of your dripping pussy, he made you watch himself lick the rest of the mess off the table too before tongue kissing you sloppily to let you taste yourself.

Even pumping you full of his cum with no regard to any chances of pregnancy, Sonny refused to let a single drop go to waste over the kitchen counter.

“Deeper, yes!” You screamed out in pleasure, pushing your hips back to meet every inch of Sonny’s cock again and again.

“If it was up to me, I’d never come out of your pretty pussy.” Sonny exhaled sharply, obsessed with the way your tight, wet heat contracts over his shaft. “Take it in like a good girl, yeah baby, every single inch. Fuck, yes!”

Just as nowhere is off limits to fuck and please each other limitlessly, there’s nobody and nothing to stop neither you nor Sonny from using Michael’s silk ties as a blindfold on his and your own marital bed.

Pumped with three rounds of cum, squirt and cum seeping into the bedsheets, thrown off blankets and wrinkled duvets, you’re all the more turned on and severely aroused from having a blindfold over your eyes as Sonny fucks you into bliss.

The sore, aching sensation in your pussy from spending the remainder of your day fucking by the poolside and on the coffee table in the yacht only intensifies your rushing orgasms coming out back to back and provides more stimulation altogether.

“I wanna taste that sweet, heavenly pussy—” Sonny abruptly pulls his cock out of you after spewing another load of his hot sticky seed inside your pussy.

“Sonny—” You gasp out as he shoves you back down on the bed and lifts your thighs in the air before burying his face into your pussy.

With your thighs shaking uncontrollably against Sonny’s head, you clasp both of your hands over your mouth to stifle out the screams of how heavenly it feels to have Sonny’s warm tongue slobbering over your engorged, aching clit.

Sonny hungrily licks and suck his own cum out of your pussy, letting his tongue in and out of you before drooling excessively against your clit and shaking his head between your legs to stimulate you further with his stubble.

With his and your cum dripping off of Sonny’s soaked chin, Sonny’s quick to pull your thighs back down and let his hips meet yours all over again.

“YES! FUCK! FUCK!” You grip onto the bedsheets with every bit of strength left in you as Sonny’s cock impales your pussy again.

“I know he doesn’t fuck you like me here—” Sonny pants heavily, putting your legs over his shoulders but continuing to push and move in further so that your knees touch your shoulders and your pussy is fully angled up. “I’m the one who fucks you so good, baby. Isn’t that right?”

Having never been fucked in a position like this and right over the side of Michael’s bed, you squirt out more cum helplessly as you feel the outline of Sonny’s cock burying itself inside of you.

Your pussy convulses against Sonny’s cock and with the sound of skin slapping against skin and the even louder sound your pussy squelching from cum and dripping wetness, the scent of sex emancipates in your bedroom and is pure music to Sonny’s ears.

Having had the best sex of your life back to back in those three weeks, it was no doubt as to why you constantly had Michael take you in the same position upon his return although both you and Sonny knew it would never be or feel the same.

You still maintained a healthy, normal sex life with Michael before and certainly slept with him before the day of his lengthy business trip arrived so none took it as a surprise weeks later to find out you were pregnant once again.

Only you and Sonny knew the truth, secretly smiling at each other behind everyone’s backs at the announcement.

Two and a half weeks later after the fuck fest around the compound, you rest your hand over your stomach and know without a doubt that you’re carrying Sonny’s first child.

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 9.11

Her spiritual antler having enough to it that the actual antler could float there. Verona’s mask hadn’t stuck, apparently. She wasn’t sure what that was about.

My theory here is that Verona's mask remains broken because it breaking was an emotionally resonant moment. Avery's mask just got damaged in battle, and hasn't impacted Avery's view of how it should look. Verona's mask was shattered in a moment of betrayal and cruelty from someone she should have been able to trust, and had a corresponding impact on her Self.

“You related to Ken?” Avery asked. “He’s my dad, I guess,” Nettie said. “I’m the offshoot. We figured we’d scatter, cover more ground.”

oh neat!

“Well, it’s nice to meet you.  I like the name Nettie,” Avery said.  “Now I’m wondering what the others are called.”

I think there were four total? So some ideas: Kendall, Kendra, Kennedy, Nate, any name that ends in -nette

“Good.  The pin will help you with the prep.  If you’re in a place for a while, it’ll change.  Tells you when you’re attuned to a place, when you can ask the city spirits things.  There are ones smaller and vaguer than me.  Neighborhood spirits, street spirits.  You’ll usually need to do things for them, even picking up litter or something, before they’ll do something for you.”

I like this! Good for the girls' role as protectors of Kennet, and particularly suited for Avery's personality

Nettie nodded, glanced around, then leaned in a bit.  “Nobody’s listening, so I can tell you Verona’s claimed her gift.  She called, another part of me answered.  I’m meant to forget after I’ve told you two.”

something that helps her run or hide within Kennet would be very useful right now

“When things go really wrong my mind kind of shuts off,” Avery said.  “I’ve had thoughts before that it doesn’t work like that for Verona.  I don’t think she’s making dumb moves.”

she's making extreme moves. She is making them very effectively! But entirely possible to get herself in too deep while she's like this

“I think she can be very smart and have almost no common sense when she’s like this.”

High INT low WIS. Honestly that seems to describe Verona most of the time, but it gets amplified when she's like this. In this state she doesn't seem to have much sense of self-preservation or care for the future or side consequences.

“I don’t want her taking some property from Ken and doing a demesne ritual without us there, or anything.”

I mean. That would be one way to keep the furs out of reach. But I don't like the implications of Verona choosing her new home while in this state, or of creating it all alone.

Scary Others, goblins, body snatchers, a heist of some ancient spirit judge’s furs?  That was one thing.  But buzzing a classmate she barely knew for weird reasons, then having to improvise an explanation?  Augh.

big mood

Steph + Reagan + Howie Perry.  It was only visible with her Sight.  She tapped the name.

Reagan! From the Hungry Choir ritual!

“Bonky Donks? Cookies? Whizzbangs?”

are those actual canadian snacks?

“It’s fine,” Avery said.  “Your daughter was really cool to us when things got really hairy, and I’m really grateful for that.  You raised a good daughter.” “Why even tell her if she’s going to forget?” Melissa asked. “Because it’s important,” Avery said.  Maybe if I say it again, “Reagan was cool.”

awww

“You can stay if you want, Melissa, we don’t really have the time to drag you with us, but I’m going to be blunt, on a seriousness scale of clown to terminal cancer, I’d rate this a multiple stab wound,” Lucy said. “What are you even talking about?” Melissa asked.

yeah I'm with Melissa, that explanation does not help

“I’m the Frankenstein’s monster that got put together from the scraps that were left behind. A bit of the backfill that’s smoothing over the holes they left, so the universe can heal and move on. I was a confused jumble of a bunch of people’s memories, at first, and then I put myself together. It was excruciating. Tying knots in two ropes that are being pulled in opposite directions, over and over again. I don’t think I’m very long for this world. When the universe has smoothed it all out, I’ll be the bumpy bit that gets scraped away. Probably.”

Man that sucks. And made worse by how all the component pieces of him were in a place to join the Hungry Choir ritual.

I wonder if there's a way to preserve him? Tie him to something other than just the gaps of those missing kids? Crack theory: make him the new Carmine judge.

“McKay and Bridge have a solid game plan.  Pick a body I want, drive out the occupant, then slip inside.  Depending on the fit, I should be able to hang out for a few decades.”

or that :|

“They were so desperate.  All of them.  It wasn’t just those three.  They bit, they clawed, they screamed, they hurt.  In their last moments they stood on the edge of oblivion.  More of them gave their all than gave up.  That’s the space I’m occupying.  Those are the Frankenstein pieces I’m made up of.  They were barely even human.  They were scared and savage.  They were torn to shreds and I’m the shreds that didn’t get eaten.”

Anyone who made it past even a single night of the Choir had to have come to terms with watching people die. And anyone who participated in one of the last night's of the cycle, like Reagan, knew what their survival would cost and had to decide to keep going.

Now that I think about, we've never got details on the night Brie won. Maybe some the parts she needed from other people were willing, but there's no way she didn't choose to go after people with force to survive. I wonder how much of her not wanting to fight is having to live knowing that seven people died in her place, and now their twisted echoes are bound in her flesh?

“I don’t think you realize what it means, for me to be made up of people who were like these guys were right at the end.  Doing anything to keep going.  Even eating vomit, clawing at a friend’s arm, begging…”

which of course means CK is born from a place that is desperate enough to make those awful choices. No wonder he's contemplating stealing someone else's body to survive.

"We- the idea we were debating was… we’d spread enough raw chaos that the universe wouldn’t be doing any paving over for me. McKay would have more people with their lives in shambles to steal from, and Bridge would maybe be able to pull more Self together. If anything can survive the Abyss and its chaos then it tends to get bigger, tougher and stronger." “That’s a terrible idea, you know, and I don’t know much about the Abyss.”

having read Pact: do not try to get more Abyssal! It's bad!

[residentraccoon]

Eurovision 2017 vs 2018

Inspired by @six-paths-of-jeanmarco (I really wanted to try this sorry lmao)

Albania: World vs Mall

Armenia: Fly with Me vs Qami

Australia: Don't Come Easy vs We Got Love

Austria: Running on Air vs Nobody but You

Azerbaijan: Skeletons vs X My Heart

Belarus: Story of My Life vs Forever

Belgium: City Lights vs A Matter of Time

Bulgaria: Beautiful Mess vs Bones

Croatia: My Friend vs Crazy

Cyprus: Gravity vs Fuego

Czechia: My Turn vs Lie to Me

Denmark: Where I Am vs Higher Ground

Estonia: Verona vs La forza

Finland: Blackbird vs Monsters

France: Requiem vs Mercy

Georgia: Keep the Faith vs For You

Germany: Perfect Life vs You Let Me Walk Alone

Greece: This Is Love vs Oniro mou

Hungary: Origo vs Viszlát nyár

Iceland: Paper vs Our Choice

Ireland: Dying to Try vs Together

Israel: I Feel Alive vs Toy

Italy: Occidentali's Karma vs Non mi avete fatto niente

Latvia: Line vs Funny Girl

Lithuania: Rain of Revolution vs When We're Old (UNPOPULAR OPINION IK IM SORRY)

Malta: Breathlessly vs Taboo

Moldova: Hey Mamma vs My Lucky Day (WHY I love both wtf)

Montenegro: Space vs Inje

Netherlands: Lights and Shadows vs Outlaw in 'Em

North Macedonia: Dance Alone vs Lost and Found

Norway: Grab the Moment vs That's How You Write a Song

Poland: Flashlight vs Light Me Up

Portugal: Amar pelos dois vs O jardim

Romania: Yodel It! vs Goodbye

Russia: Flame Is Burning vs I Won't Break (none lmao)

San Marino: Spirit of the Night vs Who We Are

Serbia: In Too Deep vs Nova deca

Slovenia: On My Way vs Hvala, ne!

Spain: Do It for Your Lover vs Tu canción

Sweden: I Can't Go On vs Dance You Off

Switzerland: Apollo vs Stones (again why do you make me choose between these two)

Ukraine: Time vs Under the Ladder

United Kingdom: Never Give Up on You vs Storm

2017: 20

2018: 22

[six-paths-of-jeanmarco]

Eurovision 2017 vs 2018

Albania: World vs Mall Armenia: Fly with Me vs Qami Australia: Don't Come Easy vs We Got Love Austria: Running on Air vs Nobody but You Azerbaijan: Skeletons vs X My Heart Belarus: Story of My Life vs Forever Belgium: City Lights vs A Matter of Time Bulgaria: Beautiful Mess vs Bones Croatia: My Friend vs Crazy Cyprus: Gravity vs Fuego Czechia: My Turn vs Lie to Me Denmark: Where I Am vs Higher Ground Estonia: Verona vs La forza Finland: Blackbird vs Monsters France: Requiem vs Mercy Georgia: Keep the Faith vs For You Germany: Perfect Life vs You Let Me Walk Alone Greece: This Is Love vs Oniro mou Hungary: Origo vs Viszlát nyár Iceland: Paper vs Our Choice Ireland: Dying to Try vs Together Israel: I Feel Alive vs Toy Italy: Occidentali's Karma vs Non mi avete fatto niente Latvia: Line vs Funny Girl Lithuania: Rain of Revolution vs When We're Old Malta: Breathlessly vs Taboo Moldova: Hey Mamma vs My Lucky Day Montenegro: Space vs Inje Netherlands: Lights and Shadows vs Outlaw in 'Em North Macedonia: Dance Alone vs Lost and Found Norway: Grab the Moment vs That's How You Write a Song Poland: Flashlight vs Light Me Up Portugal: Amar pelos dois vs O jardim Romania: Yodel It! vs Goodbye Russia: Flame Is Burning vs I Won't Break San Marino: Spirit of the Night vs Who We Are Serbia: In Too Deep vs Nova deca Slovenia: On My Way vs Hvala, ne! Spain: Do It for Your Lover vs Tu canción Sweden: I Can't Go On vs Dance You Off Switzerland: Apollo vs Stones Ukraine: Time vs Under the Ladder United Kingdom: Never Give Up on You vs Storm

2017: 21 vs 2018: 22

[mihai-florescu]

Good day! This is going to sound like I'm turning you into my personal human tripadvisor, (#sory) but you're a bucharestgirl so I feel the need to ask you for recommendations on things you personally enjoy seeing or doing around there. I've been there 3 times before but they were all short stays and I didn't get to plan them out at all, nor did I see as much as I'd have liked to see (also 2/3 stays are attached to bad memories. Cursed capital!). Purely hypothetical question, because I actually do not have any sort of trip mapped out or confirmed as of now, but I wanted to ask just in case. You Know...

Glad my #bucharestgirl nature can be of help! I do need to give you the disclaimer that I havent actually lived here since 2020 and i only come back on summer/winter breaks to hang out with my friends (which means i go to their apartments and/or to bars. If youre interested in that i can ask my bestie for her list of favs)

Now with that out of the way, I will try to remember my favorite places from back in highschool... if there's anything in particular you're interested in lmk, but this is a general list of things i think you might enjoy^_^

Well first you have to go to Cărtureşti. Verona and Carusel are the prettiest ones. It also helps that they're in very good locations. If you're at Carusel you can see centrul vechi (and right next to Cărtureşti there are art supply stores and 2 antique shops. One of them, the one on your left entering the gang, also sells handmade jewelry. If the lady is there that day, tell her you're a friend of mine and she might give you a discount. I really should pay her a visit the next time im in Bucharest).

Now, I imagine you would like to visit some museums too? I will not tell you about the national ones etcetc i'll tell you about one that maybe isn't in the tourist guides: Casa Filipescu-Cesianu. It's on Calea Victoriei, which has a bunch of other really cool places on the way. There's always Ateneu (behind it there's a sweets shop i quite like, Mara Mura). Oh also on Calea Victoriei there's the Green Hours Jazz Cafe that's quite nice if they have a performance (the food's good too though, if you just want a meal).

My favorite place to see plays Back In The Day (9th-10th grade lmao) was Centrul Replika. I'm trying to look at their website but I don't see any upcoming performances...

There's always the national theatre tho. And Teatrul Mic. And Bulandra. Teatrul Mic was my favorite out of this list.

Oh and for food...hmm... there's a Korean restaurant i like, Seoul, but it's not really in a central area. There's a cafe, Frog, that i used to go to weekly at some point. And if you feel like junk food, Switch Eat is my favorite. Maison des crêpes has good sweet and savory pancakes, i remember going a lot back in highschool. But im always on the lookout for new restaurants so if You find anything good lmk.

There are a bunch of wonderful parks (Herăstrău, IOR, Cişmigiu) if you dont feel like being in the city crowds. I also like watching the fountains at Piața Unirii. And there's always the malls if you Do want to be in a more commercial area (im a Park Lake girlie personally but like. They're all malls lmao)

But if anything catches your eye while you're here please please lmk, I find that I've been very disconnected from the city when I do go back. I hope you will have a better time in this hypothetical trip than in your previous ones<3

[bardicbeetle]

Characters as Songs!

Tagged by @magnus-s-writes (i hope you’re ready for a lot of music)

Some of you may know that I am, a bit of a playlist whore enthusiast. I have several for Safe in the Dark, as well as individual ones for most characters and certain scene types.

I’ll take after Magnus and do all my characters for Safe in the Dark, and for shoots and ladders I’ll do Antonella + co from That Witch Lives and Breathes, because I wanna talk more about that story.

So, we’ve got a bit of a list to get through, let’s go.

Alex Blackwood (Safe in the Dark)

There is always and forever one song for me that will bring me back to whatever I need to write for Alex.

Shake it Out by Florence + the Machine And I am done with my graceless heart So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart

Daniel Arden (Safe in the Dark)

This is a new addition to Daniel’s list, but it’s been on repeat for three weeks for me, so.

Bleed Out by The Mountain Goats And I will never lose hope, and I haven't lost hope I'm just realistic I will go down punching, but I will go down And my corner man won't bring me back around

Moira Hart (Safe in the Dark)

A lot of this band on Moira’s list, but specifically

Divide and Conquer by Vandaveer When you crash for the evening Do you laugh, do you feel things? Does it cross your mind When you cross the line?

Jesse Addison (Safe in the Dark)

There are so, so many I could give for Jesse BUT

Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen Oh, baby this town rips the bones from your back It's a death trap, it's a suicide rap We gotta get out while we're young 'Cause tramps like us, baby, we were born to run

Isaac Raes (Safe in the Dark)

Smoke Damage by Hi I’m Case I'm not about to complain That's too much time and energy Too long a walk to try to turn back And today was the same I nearly dodged a bullet But the universe is going on attack

Carrie Verona(Safe in the Dark)

You’re Not Welcome by Naethan Apollo I don't start fights but I'll handle you just fine Usually I'm very kind to others But I won't think twice if you step to me or mine

Thomas Pianfetti(Safe in the Dark)

Two by Sleeping at Last It's okay if you can't find the words Let me take your coat And this weight off of your shoulders

Eric St. Clare (Safe in the Dark)

Show me how to live by Audioslave Let the stains remind you You thought you made a man You better think again

Madeleine LaRoux (Safe in the Dark)

Love will have its Sacrifices by SOLES There's no way for you to fight this No spell for you to right this No way for you to hide From the demon of the light

Amalthea(Safe in the Dark)

There are tons I could pick for Thea that are more menacing but…

Thought Contagion by Muse They'll never do what you want them to Give it up and watch it break through It's too late for a revolution Brace for the final solution

~*~

Antonella Wilwick (That Witch Lives and Breathes)

Hymn for a Scarecrow by Tally Hall Real is a feeling and feeling is real All of you are flowing through me But you wouldn't know how to fathom or feel When the wind blows!

Fenwick (That Witch Lives and Breathes)

Constellations by The Oh Hellos The shapes that you drew may change beneath a different light And everything you thought you knew Will fall apart, but you'll be all right

Captain Endora “End” Maxwell (That Witch Lives and Breathes)

Hungover in the City of Dust by Autoheart Insolent and out of character We've changed so much I barely recognise our formative lives Hidden deep, deep, deep underground

Leir (That Witch Lives and Breathes)

Ship in a Bottle by Fin Pulling ropes and pulling your head back To see what is breaking the foremast You set sail alone, there is no crew No one on the deck who can help you

And that's all!

I say, as though that isn't a mile long.

Tagging @catchingbigfish @mariahwritesstuff and @pens-swords-stuff

[robbiefletcher]

a steady stream of smoke. hands red from the cold. the tell-tale rattle of a chain-link fence. slipping between the cracks. vanishing into a crowd. being able to sleep anywhere. stealing every lighter you’ve ever been leant. a hooded jumper under a workman’s jacket. thinking on your feet. being smarter than anyone gives you credit for. breaking and entering. sneaking your hand into somebody’s pocket. having your own back. doing whatever it takes to ensure your survival.

statistics.

full name:  robert fletcher nickname(s):  robbie, rob, bobby name meaning:  bright fame age:  twenty-five date of birth:  october 6th star sign:  libra place of birth:  tower hamlets, london current location:  various boroughs, london gender:  cis-male pronouns:  he/him sexual orientation:  figuring it out (but can and does sleep with people of all genders) religion:  agnostic occupation:  pickpocket family:  alfie fletcher (father, estranged) deepti adama (mother, estranged) education level:  a handful of gcses (left formal education at sixteen) living arrangements:  homeless financial status:  poor spoken languages:  english

inspirations.

jess mariano (gilmore girls) james cook (skins) jim hawkins (treasure planet) patrick verona (10 things i hate about you) ronan lynch (the raven cycle) eggsy unwin (kingsman) the artful dodger (oliver twist)

biography. (tws for neglect, parental abandonment, poverty)

Born in Tower Hamlets (a very poor area of London) in 1997.

Robbie���s parents were both barely nineteen when he was born, and adults in name only.

After six months his father realised he wasn’t particularly suited to family life, and disappeared off into the great blue yonder, never to be seen again.

Robbie’s mother couldn’t cope alone. With no support system behind her, an infant son to raise and no money to speak of, the odds were stacked against her. She spent a lot of time away from Robbie, ostensibly trying to cobble together the rent for the derelict flat they shared, but typically going out in pursuit of her lost youth.

The police finally came when Robbie was five. A neighbour reported seeing him hanging around the tower block they lived in at all hours of the day and night, never at school and seemingly unsupervised.

He was taken into care that same day, and hasn’t had any contact with either of his parents since.

He was fostered a few times in his early days in the system, but never for longer than a few months, and he always ended up right back at the group home. He was troubled, and he made trouble wherever he went.

In spite of this, he was obviously a clever boy, but categorically refused to try at school. He learned to read far later than his peers, but when he did, he scoured every book in the care home twice over.

Robbie started stealing as early as ten. First little things, sweets and magazines from the corner shop, but bigger when he realised he could get away with it. Some of the stuff he stole he’d resell to his peers on the playground, and then on street corners and down alleys as he got older.

Once you reach a certain age, it’s practically a given that nobody’s going to adopt you. But that was fine with Robbie, he didn’t need or want new parents, he was fine by himself.

He finally left care at eighteen, with a job as a waiter and a room at a halfway house until something more permanent could be arranged.

To start with, he really did try going straight, becoming an upstanding member of society, but what was the point? You broke your back all day for nothing, while other people felt entitled to treat you like a dog.

He was back to his old tricks in less than a year. He left the halfway house and his terrible job and didn’t look back, calling the city of London in its entirety his home, and robbing strangers to get by. He’s always said that possession is a matter of perspective, and it seemed that way now more than ever.

He’s been on the Jolly Rogers’ books (such as they are) for about five years. He’s very good at what he does, but he tries to keep his head down as much as possible - after all, what kind of thief likes to draw attention to themselves?

other things.

Robbie is passionate about urban exploration, and knows the best ways into almost every abandoned building in London. It's come in handy more than once.

When it comes to his work, there's no better opportunity to pick an unsuspecting idiot's pockets than at a tube station during rush hour. With nearly three hundred of them across six zones, he's spoilt for choice, and rarely has to hit up the same place twice in quick succession.

He hasn't had a fixed address since he was eighteen, though he can usually find somewhere to get his head down for a night or two - whether it's a friend's floor, the back of a city bus, or the bed of a one night stand, Robbie has developed a knack for being able to fall asleep anywhere.

Robbie smokes like a chimney, and thinks vaping is genuinely one of the most embarrassing things a person can do.

All his worldly possessions fit into one duffel bag. Sentimentality is a luxury.

The cinema is his happy place, and he does his best to see as many new releases as possible, regardless of what the film is about or what the reviews are like. His favourite film of the last year was Everything, Everywhere, All At Once, which he actually paid to see a second time.

As of writing this, Robbie has never been in love. Any relationship he’s been in (though “relationship” is a strong word to describe Robbie’s fleeting entanglements) has been based on what the other person can do for him, rather than any reciprocated feelings on his part. Men like him aren’t made for soft things, and if the dynamic starts trending that way, he’s quick to nip it in the bud.

[a-chlolix-blog]

Timeless AU Headcanon: Alix's nightmare in "Sandboy" is that Chloé will date your OC, Monica, again (Context: before the start of AU, Chloé and Monica were a thing but eventually break up due to Chloé's father being a conservative politician and Monica moving out to *random French city*).

Oof! Verona's obviously gotta NOT like saying that!

[azurele]

two households, both alike in pig titty

in fair verona, where we lay our spleen

from ancient grunge break to new york city

where silver blood makes silver hams unclean

[katarinamiljkovic66]

~ Excursion ~

🚍 Activity title: Excursion

🚍 Duration and amount: 25th of May- 2nd of June

🚍 Type of activity: activity, creativity

~ Activity Description ~

After months of seemingly never-ending exams and intense anticipation for a well-deserved summer break to begin, at last, the first day of school excursion had finally arrived. The plan was to visit three countries: Italy, France, and Spain, but I wouldn't have minded if they added one more, just for good measure. 

There were a lot of complaints about the organization of the trip, which I personally didn't have problems with. Sure, when we arrived in some cities, such as Nice, we didn't see much due to how dark it was and how little free time we had. But with how many cities we had visited, it was a welcome surprise that a situation like that had only happened twice throughout the whole trip. Most cities we got to see in their entirety, even getting two to three hours of free time for whatever activities we wished to do. 

Having already been to Barcelona, I didn't share the same amount of excitement about going there as my friends did, but I was excited for the free time we would get there. I had planned to buy presents for my family and partner, and I had no luck up until that point, so I was hoping my luck would change, and it did! I got my mom spices that I know she likes and my partner a small replica of the infamous Sagrada Família.

The hotels were all great, and the quality of the food that was served was delicious! While the Lloret de Mar hotel had the most choices to pick from, the most delicious food was served in the last hotel near Verona. They had all sorts of tasty pastries to choose from for breakfast, and while that might not have been ideal for those who don't have a sweet tooth, it was perfect for me :>

The weather was nice for most of the trip, except when we visited Genoa. It was raining for the first hour, so me and my friend entered a bakery shop to wait for the rain to stop, but also because we were getting really hungry. We ordered the city specialty, Focaccia, which is a flatbread either plain or with ingredients such as olives, onions, or rosemary. This city also had a candy shop in which I was able to buy caramels for my mom since she loves them.

I can't stress enough just how much I absolutely loved our visit to the Dalí Theatre-Museum. Each room of the museum was unique, with each one having different ideas presented using different art techniques. I took pictures of most, if not all, of the art works that I saw because of it, but my favorite were the ink drawings of weird and original characters in the hallways. They had a certain charm, and by the lines on the drawings, you were able to tell just how professional they are and how hard it would be to even try replicating them, let alone coming up with ideas similar to those. 

While I really can't complain about any of the cities that we visited, with each one being beautiful in its own way, I have to say that my favorite city that we visited was Verona. It is not as big as Barcelona, and I like that about the city. It is extremely beautiful with the Arena di Verona, Via Mazzini, and Castelvecchio. The most beautiful was, of course, Juliet's house and her statue. The walls of her house had so many names and initials written on them of couples, and I barely managed to find a blank spot to write our own. The shop beside the house was so amazing, I'm pretty sure I spent a good 40 minutes inside, which my wallet can also attest to me doing.

~ Reflection ~

This was such a wonderful, once-in-a lifetime experience that I will never forget! Each day was filled with fun activities and hangouts that I will always remember and look back on fondly. I am beyond thankful to everyone who helped organize this trip, and I hope that the next generation has as much fun on their excursion as we did on ours!

~ Learning Outcomes ~

🚍 Identify own strengths and develop areas for growth

🚍 Demonstrate that challenges have been undertaken, developing new skills in the process

🚍 Show commitment to and perseverance in CAS experiences