#Roman Candle Band

[faeriegothfather]

Apex Predator, Roman Candle, Foreign Hands, Boundaries, and Dying Wish @ the Vera Project 27/11/23.

[athetos]

Well if SeeYouSpaceCowboy… really dissolves/Connie leaves the band at least I saw them twice last year and moshed with her

[the-halcyon-effect]

i've been very autistic today because i learned a band i've been listening to has a trans lead singer AND they have a cool trans shirt in their merch shop (that's tragically sold out) AND they're playing in my town in august before i leave for college again AND they're touring with another really tiny band i love AND this is on top of the fact that they just released an album that not only has a song with the nonbinary(?) legend kim dracula but ALSO one with courtney laplante AND the music video for that last one has lesbians. like ghhfhjfjgjgg

[portaltothevoid]

This. This right here is a MASTERPIECE. I can’t give it enough praise. I had fought back tears. The raw emotions of the characters… the feelings, the… everything about this story was meravigliosa. There’s no way you won’t be binging this if you haven’t read it yet — and if you haven’t? What in Lucifer’s name are you waiting for!?! Vai vai vai! Go!

Rituale Septem - Day 7: Pride

Pairing: (Terzo x f!reader)

Summary: All Hallow's Eve is here, and you're more lost now than you ever had been. Whilst the Ministry gets ready for their biggest night of the year, you're dreading it. Will you reconcile your issues before it's too late?

Rating: Mature, MDNI 18+

Word Count: 18.1k (how tf did that happen...)

Warnings: angst, pining, arguments, lots of emotions, p in v sex, creampie 

AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

A/N: Here it is... the final chapter! I just want to thank anyone and everyone who has liked, reblogged and commented on this fic. It was the biggest project I've ever worked on (74,000+ words wtf...), and one of my favourites of all time. I'm so grateful for the love on it, and I hope this ending doesn't break too many hearts... Happy Halloween to you all! I love you 🫶🏻

Prev: Day 6 - Greed

October 31st: All Hallow’s Eve 

The hum of excitement in the halls of the Ministry travelled from sibling to sibling. On this, the most sought-after date in the calendar of any Satanist, the corridors were alive with jubilation. 

All Hallow’s Eve was a time for many to perform their rituals, to manifest for the year ahead, to reap the rewards since the last harvest season. While the majority of the world would ward off the evil spirits, demons and creatures of the night, the Satanic Church welcomed them. With November 1st being the Catholic’s traditional day of the Saints, tonight was reserved for the sinners.  

The most common use of this magical night, was to commune with the dead and the inhuman, and take advantage of the thinned veil between worlds as night fell. Offerings could be made for a fruitful season ahead, manifestations could be created and spells and rituals could be completed with deities and demons alike.  

Whether the Siblings were attempting something themselves or simply here to enjoy the night of mischief and leisure at the All Hallow’s Ball, the atmosphere within the stone walls was electrifying. There wasn’t a single Sibling in the Ministry who wasn’t looking forward to the festivities. 

Save for one. You.  

As you trudged through the halls towards Secondo’s office that morning, you felt like the only person whose world to had been drained of colour, as if a black shadow hung over you and blew out the flame of excitement of each person you passed. People stopped their conversations just to look at you, their smiles drooping when they saw the look you couldn’t hide in your eyes. Exhaustion, mixed with a hint of hurt.  

It emanated from you, and it was clear to see. A few Siblings you knew asked you if you were okay, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the jubilation in the hallways but you dismissed each question with a nod and a well-rehearsed “I’m fine”. 

Based on Swiss’ advice yesterday, he had told you feeling wasn’t to be hidden away from; to deal with them instead. The first step to feeling with feelings, surely, was to feel them. And so, you allowed your misery to take over last night and soak your pillow as you failed to sleep. Your mind raced with thoughts of Terzo, images of the times you had spent in his arms, pressed against him, wrapped around him and completely and utterly enamoured with him.  

And then, you would torture yourself with the opposite; the scene you’d walked in on, his cruel teasing, his dismissal of you on fancy parchment. Each positive memory felt like a sooth to the burn, and each negative, a fresh, hot poker into the same wound.  

You could admit it to yourself now; the time spent with him not only in the last week, but since you had arrived in his office, poured your soul to him and began your closer, flirtatious relationship – if you could even call it a relationship – had been enough to show you a side you needed to get to know. You were falling for a man you could never have; a man incapable of love, it would seem.  

There was more to Terzo than people thought – that much you had learned. You'd seen hints of a sensitivity in him; an odd look here, a fond smile there, the mention of his dear Nonna, his somewhat unexpected knowledge of Opera... But you had come to expect too much of him, and gotten yourself into hot water. 

But every time you had tried to figure him out a little more, he’d held you at arm’s length or proven in some way that he was just as unbothered and disinterested as you feared. The more you thought about it through the night, the tighter the barbed wire around your heart squeezed.  

You’d considered not going to work at all today; you weren’t sure you could face people, much less Secondo. But against your better judgement, you’d thought a sense of normality might help to ground you.  

When you walked into Secondo’s office, he couldn’t hide the shock on his face that you’d showed. Don’t get him wrong, he was glad to see you, but he’d expected you to be... busy. You still had one final sin to go, after all.  

“Oh... B-buongiorno, sorella...” he stuttered a little in his surprise. “I thought you would be indisposed today? I don’t mind if you need to-” 

“I’d rather keep busy for a bit at least, Papa. If you don’t mind...” you interrupted, your voice quiet and subdued. His brow creased, concern flooding his ageing features. You missed it, avoiding eye contact as you sat at your desk.  

“What happened?” he asked sternly, “which stronzo do I have to skin alive?”  

Your lips quirked in a smile at his protectiveness of you; something you’d only noticed of him recently, but when you thought about it, had been present for a few years now. But unless he wanted to flay the skin directly from his brother’s own back, he would have to be kept in the dark on this one. 

“It’s nothing Papa, I’m just... exhausted. Long week,” you chuckled, devoid of humour entirely.  

“Of course, but it’s almost over, cara mia. One final push, so to speak,” he encouraged. But in your mind, it was already over. You weren’t sure you had it in you to attempt one more genuine devotion of sin. The weight on your shoulders had crashed around you last night and left you feeling far too broken.  

“Perhaps one final act would put fratello mio in a better mood, also,” he mumbled, shaking his head to himself as he busied his hands with filing invoices for the suppliers of tonight’s Ball. You looked up at him curiously. 

“I-I’m sorry?” you asked, as if you hadn’t heard. But really, you needed more information. Secondo sighed, ripping his spectacles from the end of his nose and letting his hand drop to the desktop. 

“Perhaps Sister Imperator is on his culo (ass) again, but he is acting unlike himself. He’s snappy, irritable... but then when he thinks I do not see, he looks sad,” he explained. “I had warned him the papacy was not for the faint of heart...” 

You thought over his statement for a moment. Sure, his role was demanding, and you knew better than anyone that Sister Imperator was a tyrant; she reminded you of Ms. Trunchbull from Matilda, yet somehow scarier, because she could be kind...  

But sad? What did he have to be sad about? Perhaps it was childish, but you found yourself getting defensively angry at the notion. How dare he when he’d caused, well... this.  

“I don’t think I’ll be seeing papa today,” you deadpanned.  

“Oh... is... Did he do something? Oh, Sorella, did you break his heart?” he teased, pouting dramatically to mock Terzo more so than you. He laughed to himself until he saw the look on your face, shutting himself up and tumbling headfirst into a thought process that led him into silence. 

Maybe his brother had done something. Knowing him, he had cocked up whatever bond he had managed to cement with you in some way. Secondo would lovingly describe his younger brother as un fottuto bambino in tunica (a fucking baby in a robe); immature and yet, held power. It would not shock him if he’d fucked this up, the way he seemed to fumble every potential romantic relationship he’d ever had. None of his conquests had ever moved past just that; his brother was far too terrified of feeling to admit to falling for anybody, and so, nothing ever came of his many charades with women and men alike.  

'What if he’s doing the same now?’ he thought to himself. Terzo did have a pattern, one Secondo had recognised when someone was getting too close to him. He would shoo them away, do something to make them hate him so that he didn’t have to be the one to break it off. Give them a reason to walk away from him, and then he could justify his solitude. 

“Oh, ragazzo idiota,” Secondo muttered to himself.  

“I’m sorry, what was that, Papa?” you asked, having missed it.  

“N-nothing... Sorella, you want to keep busy, sì?” he asked, dismissing his thoughts. You nodded, looking through your notebook to find an unattended task to take up. “Don’t busy yourself with paperwork, dolcezza. You should do something amongst the festivities! Get some fresh air; Primo has asked for you, actually. He’d like some help with pumpkin picking. His frail old hands aren’t what they used to be...”  

Secondo sounded overly kind, as if he were stepping around the issue. It didn’t come naturally to him, outward kindness. You always knew when he was putting it on, or trying to hard; he was most certainly doing that now.  

“Why would Papa Primo ask for me?” you asked suspiciously. He had his own assistant, not to mention the Ghouls were on hand for manual labour.  

Secondo just shrugged, “More like he asked for some help, and I put your name forward, if you were to be available. You don’t mind, do you?” 

Truthfully, no you didn’t. Fresh air may be a good idea, and particularly in the quiet seclusion of Papa Primo’s gardens when the rest of the Ministry would be preparing for tonight’s festivities. You could hide from their excitement and wallow in self-pity for a little; that sounded just fine to you. 

“I’ll head out to the gardens now. Do you need anything else from me, Papa?” you asked, standing and tidying your things away into your desk.  

“No, dolcezza. But... if my brother has done anything to upset you, I...” he stopped himself, trying to pick his words carefully. “Just know, he is a fool.”  

You stared blankly at him, blinking a few times whilst you tried to think of something to say back to him. You couldn’t quite decipher the tone of his voice, or the laced meaning in his words. But before you could give it much thought, he dismissed you to the rest of your day.  

“I’ll see you at the Ball, dolcezza. Don’t think you’re getting out of giving this old man a dance,” he smiled. Smiling looked unusual on Secondo’s face, but in this moment it felt comforting. You felt like he had your back, he was in your corner, batting for your team... He was telling you he’d make sure you enjoyed tonight, Terzo be damned and despite the success or failure of the ritual.  

He’d still be there; your friend. 

“Who picked this orange? It’s too bright...” Terzo grunted, swatting at the drapes Swiss was hanging up in the Great Hall.  

“Y-you did, Papa?” he answered from the top step of the step ladder Dew was holding still, frankly a little scared of the way Papa was acting today. While everyone else was in a particularly joyous mood, Terzo was on a war path. His mood was foul, snapping at anything and everything he possibly could.  

“Well... I... shut up,” Terzo threw his hands in the air and stomped off to check on the Siblings setting up the round dining tables and various casino games on the outskirts of the hall – Secondo's idea; a very big fan of the Vegas strip. His head was all over the place, unable to focus. Not only did he have to play the Papa role at tonight’s Ball, but he was battling with the thoughts of you at the same time.  

Did you complete your sin yesterday? With who? No, that didn’t matter. None of his business. Would you complete the ritual? Or had he fucked that up too? Lucifer, he’d never forgive himself. 

“Papa!” he heard someone called to him and quietly groaned at the footsteps quickly approached, clacking on the marble of the floor. “Papa, could I... eh, could I talk to you? Per uno momento, (For one moment,) I shall not keep you...”  

Terzo span on his heels in the middle of the dancefloor, having not yet reached the gaggle of Siblings arranging tableware on the opposite end of the Hall. His younger brother, Cardinal Copia, was scurrying towards him with a sheepish look on his face, a blush that gave away his shame.  

“What is it, fratellino? I’m a little busy with preparations...” Terzo tried to dismiss him, avoiding eye contact. He didn’t care to look him in the eye after Sunday, when he had seen you... on top of him.  

“Sì, sì, scusi, I just...” Copia stopped in front of him, lowering his voice from the rest of the Hall, “I have felt somewhat guilty since Sunday, Papa.”  

“How many times do I have to ask you not to call me Papa, Copia? Just Terzo will do,” he fussed, raising his hand to stop Copia’s protests about ‘lineage’ and ‘formality’. He completely glazed over the mention of Sunday, not wanting to address it at all. “You are my brother. It’s weird.” 

“Okie dokie...” he hung his head in apology. “But... Sunday,” he began again. Terzo raised his palm again.  

“I will knock next time,” he said. 

“Well, yes, but... I’m sorry,” Copia forced his apology on Terzo, willing him to listen to him, as if not having the opportunity to apologise was somehow paining him. He needed him to know his intentions. 

“What... what are you sorry for?” Terzo asked, confused and frankly, a little nervous. He had a feeling he knew where this was heading, his brother able to read him easily as he did most people.  

“I saw the look on your face, Terzo. It wasn’t just disgust at what you’d seen me doing. I saw rage, Terzo. And... pain.” Copia kept his voice low to not attract attention, his eyes searching his brother’s face for his reaction. He could have been way off base here, but part of him knew. It told him that no, he was right; Terzo was genuinely upset by what he saw. 

Terzo stared at his brother, his heart rate picking up in his chest. He didn’t need every damn brother knowing what he was thinking all the time, and he didn’t feel like having to explain himself or coming up with excuses. He didn’t have the energy to pretend today, and so, he began to turn and walk away.  

It was cowardly and he knew it; walking away from the truth, pretending it didn’t exist. But he couldn’t do this; not right now.  

“No, wait!” Copia grabbed his arm, quietly calling to him. Terzo stopped, hanging his head low and turning back.  

“Copia please, not here. I can’t... not today.” 

“When I walked into her in the hall that day, she was upset by something and I need you to know I don’t think she was in her right mind when she... dragged me to my workshop. She didn’t want me, she wanted something and I just happened to be there,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “and I’m the weak and pathetic man who allowed it. Swept up, I suppose.” 

Both brothers shuffled on their feet uncomfortably, neither one speaking for a moment as they both wallowed in their shame. Terzo had known you were upset; of course he did, it was his doing. But he’d been able to ignore that for the most part, try and stuff it down in a suitcase he could throw to the bottom of a lake and forget about completely. But he didn’t realise it would float back to the surface. His guilt ate him up.  

“You’re... you’re not weak, Copia,” Terzo managed to say. It was possibly one of the nicest things he’d said to him in a long time, their relationship very much strained thanks to their estranged father. Copia simply smiled delicately in thanks and pity.  

“You should tell her, fratello.” Terzo laughed bitterly, at that.  

“Tell her what, exactly?” he shrugged, feigning ignorance.  

“How you feel,” Copia persisted, “I didn’t miss the anger on her face, either. I fear I came between something...” 

“I can’t tell her anything, Copia. She doesn’t deserve me,” Terzo’s gaze hardened, his jaw locking up tightly as he stared into his brother’s eyes.  

Copia frowned at that statement; what, you were not good enough for him? Copia knew you well enough to know he’d be lucky to find a woman half as deserving of love as you. He knew his brother could be a pig-headed and proud man, but that was potentially one of the most arrogant things he had ever said.  

When Terzo realised the annoyance on Copia’s face, he scoffed, shaking his head and staring down at his feet.  

“No, Copia... she doesn’t deserve me,” he looked up then, sadness filling his eyes and a soft sigh escaping his chest. “No one deserves that burden.” 

Without another word, Terzo turned and walked the rest of the length of the Hall, leaving the Siblings and Ghouls to their preparations, and a rather deflated looking Copia in the middle of the empty dancefloor.  

He just wanted to be alone. 

The chill in the air bit at your skin the second you stepped outside, wrapping your cloak tightly around you as you acclimatised after the warmth confined to the Ministry’s inner walls. The air felt fresh, with a dew settled as a low fog over the hills in the distance. The landscape looked quite perfect for All Hallow’s Eve morning.  

You took the short winding footpath that led to Papa Primo’s gardens, noticing you hadn’t come across another sibling or ghoul on your way through. They must be inside, getting things ready for the biggest night of the year or enjoying their freedom from seminars and work duty that came with the holiday.  

When you knocked on the door to Primo’s greenhouse, you heard a groan as if Primo had been sat when you arrived, dragging himself up while his aching bones protested. He came to the door, greeting you with a warm smile and open arms ready to engulf you in a hug you had come to expect of the eldest Emeritus. In his old age, he’d grown softer, and tended to greet his Siblings this way now. 

“Sorella _____! Oh, Happy Halloween to you, cara mio,” he beamed as you gently hugged him, careful not to knock his balance. 

“Happy Halloween, Papa,” you smiled, strikingly good at masking your sadness around him. Perhaps it was simply Primo’s comforting aura.  

“Did Secondo send you to help with the pumpkins?” he asked, taking a step back but grasping your hands in his.  

“He did,” you chuckled, “I needed the fresh air.” 

“Sí, sí, well let’s get started, eh? Would you fetch me a wheelbarrow from the tool shed, cara? I will find the clippers; those stalks are stubborn this year!” he turned in his spot to rifle through the shelves by the door, and left you to run to the shed and grab the wheelbarrow he’d requested, plus a camping stool for him to sit on. You met at the pumpkin patch, largely overgrown with an assortment of pumpkins the size of boulders down to footballs. You sat the wheelbarrow near the front of the patch, and took the shears Primo had collected from him. 

“Relax, Papa. I’ve got this,” you smiled sweetly, kneeling beside a group of pumpkins ready to cut into the stalks and pile them into the wheelbarrow while Papa rested on the stool you’d brought for him. 

“Ah, you think me too frail, Sorella?” he teased, instantly eating his words when he groaned taking a seat. 

“Not me, Papa. Your joints, however...” you laughed. Papa couldn’t deny that, letting you get away with the cheek for now with a fond smile.  

“I trust my brother is keeping you busy?” he asks, forcing your hand to pause it’s cutting as you looked back at him, wondering what he was getting at. He didn’t mean...? “Secondo? Is he keeping you busy as usual, Sorella?” 

“O-oh! Yes, of course. Always,” you laughed, relieved and turning back to the pumpkins. Primo smirked, knowing full well why you’d panicked. But he’d let it slide, for now.  

“Good, good... And you’re doing well in yourself, cara?” he asked, making conversation. Except, he was prying. Primo knew more than he was letting on, but he was manipulating the conversation in a way that you may be more forthcoming...  

But you didn’t know how to answer him. You wanted so desperately to be honest with him, feeling comfortable and trusting him but the fear of judgment and embarrassment made you hesitate. And you hesitated a moment too long, chewing on your bottom lip and stilling your progress on the pumpkin stem you were hacking into.  

Primo saw an opening. 

“Hmm... you said you needed the fresh air too, earlier. Cara mio, something is bothering you, is it not?” he asked, leaning forwards to rest his forearms on his knees, holding your gaze when you looked up at him beside you.  

“Well, I... um...” you stuttered, wondering how you would even begin this conversation.  

“It’s okay, fiorellina (little flower),” he softened his voice, reaching his palm to rest gently at your cheek that had pinkened now you were flustered, “I know you have been performing Rituale Septem,” he admitted.  

You froze; your body seemed to simply stop working, lungs and all as you held your breath. How did he know? What did he know? You were mortified... It felt like your Grandpa had just told you he’d heard you having sex; just icky. You hoped he didn’t think any less of you for it. His opinion of you mattered to you more than you realised.  

“I must say, it was brave to take on this ritual, Sorella. You must have been at your wits end to try and accomplish this. I’ve never seen it completed in my lifetime; it always gets too messy,” he praised, giving you a sense of relief that he certainly did not think less of you at all. But messy; yes. That’s one way to put it. “I hear it got messy, Sorella...” he spoke so softly, a look of sympathy on his face.  

“I think it did, yes...” you hung your head in shame, slowly beginning to cut back into the pumpkin stem you were working on. Primo hummed in acknowledgement.  

“Well done, _______. For fighting back, I mean. He plays too many games, il mio idiota fratellino, (my idiot little brother,)” he scoffed, shaking his head.  

“He told you, then?” you deduced, focussed entirely on this ruddy pumpkin stalk that just would not cut. You hacked into it, anger building.  

“He did, sí... Hey, hey!” he raised his voice, reaching out to your wrist to stop your assault on the stalk that had become entirely too violent. “Fiorellina, per favore! (Little flower, please!) Violence does not suit you.” He ran his gloved thumb over your cheek, wiping at a stray tear that had fallen and chilled on your cheek in the autumn air. 

“S-sorry...” you mumbled, letting the shears drop to the ground in front of you and sitting back on your heels in defeat.  

“I hate to pry, but... did you manage to complete a sin yesterday?” he asked, “Terzo said you had two left when he came to me. If you did, then there is still hope you can talk to Lucifer tonight.” Primo evaded the subject a little, putting a pin in the Terzo dynamic for the time being to understand what position you found yourself in now. He could only help with the full picture, and if you had failed yesterday, then attempting any sin today was futile.  

“Yes...” you winced, “Swiss and Dew... Greed.” Frankly, you’d felt guilty ever since. Whilst the Ghouls were lovely, and handled you well, took care of you and even stayed with you for comfort long into the night... It had felt weird to sleep with them when you were so clearly hung up on another man. You had used them; with their knowledge and consent, yes, but something still didn’t sit right about it now that your feelings of ugly jealousy and hopelessly unrequited adoration were painfully obvious to you. 

You picked the shears back up and began to cut into the stalk again, needing to busy your hands.  

“Okay, so one final sin. Have you given much thought to how you might accomplish this one? Pride, isn’t it?”  

Truth be told, you had thought about it briefly yesterday, and then given up hope. When you’d woken up this morning, you’d resigned yourself to failure already. You shook your head no, “I don’t think I’ll be completing this ritual, Papa.” 

“You don’t wish to speak with The Dark One?” he asked, straight to the point.  

“Of course I do, but... things have changed, Papa,” you sighed, finally cutting the stalk of the oversized pumpkin in front of you and moving to lift the bastard thing into the wheelbarrow. It dropped with a thud, and you knelt next to the smaller one beside the first, beginning to cut into that stalk also.  

Primo nodded in thought, knowing exactly what had changed; you’d fallen for his idiota fratellino. 

“You know, I understand wanting to give up, Sorella. Believe me, I do,” Primo shuffled, getting himself comfy as if about to tell a story. And he was. “When I was a young man, long before your time, I had wanted to give up too. I was a bishop, then. I couldn’t juggle everything... My responsibilities, my faith, mio fratelli... Our padre, he was too busy with women and drugs; eh, it was the 60’s. Everyone was experimenting, but he was absent, and with no madre in the picture, that was all down to me. 

“Terzo was... un incubo (a nightmare). Particularly after his madre passed. I cannot say I blame him, but... he tested me. I remember one day when he was seventeen, even his nonna could not rein him in. He thought he was big and clever going out to drink and sleep around and he was acting too much like il suo inutile padre, (his useless father). His nonna called me very early in the morning to tell me he had come home drunk and angry yet again, and I didn’t know what to do with him anymore. I wanted to give in,” he sighed, recounting the memory.  

“Truth be told, Sorella, I thought he had been too damaged to save. Nihil was not only absent most of the time, but a vile creature to his children when he did show. As a result, Terzo deals very badly with emotion. Particularly affection, or love...”  

Primo let the thought hang in the air between you for a moment, gaging your reaction. He had a point to make here, and he was spoon feeding you, guiding your thought process.  

“He’s never exactly received much love in his life, and when he does, it scares him. He finds a way to push it away from him before he’s even aware he’s doing it and then... it’s too late,” he sighed, finally making eye contact with you, who had stopped cutting into the next stem long ago to listen along. He noted the tears shining in your eyes and knew he was on the right track; he was chiselling away at the wall you tried to build between you and his brother. 

“Mio fratellino is constantly getting shit on from a great height, in a manner of speaking. Nothing he has ever done or will do is good enough for people; they expect more and more of him every day. I’m sure he feels he is not worthy of the love he deserves. But he is a proud man. Too proud... He would never admit he craves that acceptance.”  

You should have seen it. You should have known there was something more here, you’d even caught glimpses of it. You saw the stress on his face after your encounter with Secondo, his hand woven in his hair, brow creased at his desk. He’d talked about his nonna at dinner, how fondly he’d smiled at the mention of her. You’d felt the tension after he’d explained the opera to you, his internal battle of ‘should I kiss her? Should I not?’ playing out in his eyes – he'd denied himself then, you remember the disappointment...  

He was letting you in... and then shutting you out again. And you’d missed it every time.  

Primo saw your mind racing and let you have a moment, contemplating his words before he dove back in to chisel away further into that wall.  

“Sorella, I feel I must tell you something...” He leaned forward, taking the shears from you and taking your hands in his, “When he came to me on Sunday, he was angry. I believe he had just seen something he wished he hadn’t.” You knew what that meant, and you hung your head in shame. You felt unbelievably guilty now; sure, he had started it, but you had used his own brother against him.  

Primo picked your chin up, curling his finger underneath it to raise your gaze back to his above you.  

“He wasn’t angry at you, fiorellina. In fact, the only person he was angry at was himself. And perhaps a little at Copia, but that was misdirected... He kept babbling on about how he had ruined your ritual, how he was terrified you’d never forgive him, that you’d leave... My point, cara mio, is that not once did he say a bad word about you.” 

Your bottom lip quivered with unspoken emotion. The tears welling in your eyes spilled down your cheeks and chilled your skin. Words failed you, all you could think of was him, running the signs over and over in your head that he was holding back, that he was hiding. It had taken Primo pointing out the obvious, giving you background and context, for you to realise what had been happening. But now you had... what do you do? 

“P-Papa... What do I do?” you sobbed quietly into his hands, now enveloping your reddening cheeks. Primo smiles softly at you, caressing your cheeks to remove the tear tracks.  

“Pride is a funny thing, fiorellina. It is about self-worth, sí? Vanity, conceit, even arrogance. But that is how God sees it. Lucifer teaches us different, when you read between the lines. Pride extends to those around you, to those you love,” he emphasises, “You can harbour pride for others, sí?”  

You nod at him; yes, yes you were proud of Terzo. So proud of him; your Papa. 

“But you have your own pride too, Sorella. You must know your worth. I must ask; are you worthy of my brother? Are you worthy of a Papa?”  

“Y-yes... I think so. I want to be good enough for him, Papa,” you cried, hiccupping in his hands. Finally being honest with yourself, you absolutely wanted that. You wanted to be the one to tell him how proud you were of him, how wonderful he was, how funny or sweet, how kind... How much you loved him. 

“There you have it... You know what to do, fiorellina,” he sits back, letting go of your face as your eyes dart from side to side in panicked thought. You had to go. You needed to see him. You’d force your way into his office if you must; screw whatever meeting he was in or whatever clergy member you had to throw out of his way. You looked at the pumpkin patch around you and back at Primo, desperate to get away to find Terzo but your sense of duty halted you; you’d promised to help an old man with his pumpkin patch. You couldn’t just run away from him... 

Primo saw your internal monologue plain as day, and chuckled to himself.  

“Go, go! Andare! (Go!) I will fetch some Ghouls. They're more efficient than you anyway, cara,” he joked, grinning at you with a wink. 

“Th-thank you, Papa...” you stood quickly, dusting the soil from your cloak and stepping forward to kiss his forehead in thanks, “I’m sorry... I just, I have to...”  

“Yes, yes. I shall see you at the Ball!” he called after you as you ran back through the gardens, your boots slipping slightly on the cobblestone paths under the dew that had settled on them. It didn’t deter you; nothing could. You just continued to run until you reached the Ministry again, out of breath by the time you were inside it’s warm halls.  

Where would he be? Today of all days, where would you find him? 

You’d tried his office first; no sign of him. Even Christine was nowhere to be found, her desk tidy and untouched. Fine, you would try the Great Hall. Perhaps they were setting up for the ball?  

As you ran into the hall, several heads turned towards the sound and caught you frantically scanning the crowds of siblings and Ghouls alike. You spotted Swiss and Dew, precariously balancing on a ladder and hanging fresh black candles on the large chandeliers. Swiss reached up to hang another candle, seeing you stood at the edge of the dancefloor and waved, wobbling on the ladder. Dew banged on one of the wooden rungs for Swiss to focus, until he too saw you and gave you a quick wave.  

Chrstine had been in the hall setting up a blackjack table, and had seen you run in too. Having been the first time she’d seen you since Sunday, she hurried over with a guilty expression. You didn’t notice until she was right beside you, tapping your shoulder to gain your attention from the rest of the room.  

“Sister ______?” she asked, forcing you out of your trance. “I just... I wanted to apologise for the other day.” You almost rolled your eyes; you didn’t have time for this!  

“It’s... it’s fine, really,” you said, looking around her desperately at the people around the room. Where was he?  

“No, _______, really... It’s not fine, I had no idea that-” 

“Christine please, it’s okay,” you interrupted, “where’s Papa?”  

“Well I just don’t want you to be mad at me, we’re friends after all, and I just-”  

“Christine!” you yelled, drawing the eyes and ears of everybody in the room again, the hall falling silent. Chrstine seemed taken aback, shocked you would yell but she finally quietened.  

“I’m... I’m not mad at you...” you continued, voice low to evade the attention of those now paying it very closely to you. “We are fine. I’m not angry. Just... tell me where Papa is.” Christine was baffled, but the crazed look in your eyes was enough to force an answer out of her; albeit, not a very helpful one. 

“I-I don’t know... I saw him walk out earlier but he didn’t come back. Did you try the office?” she asked, suddenly concerned.  

“Yeah, first place I looked,” you took a step back, wiping your hands over your face in exasperation, trying to think.  

“Oh... Maybe his quarters? He gets nervous before these kinds of events, maybe he’s getting ready?” she shrugged. You nodded along, turning as if to head in that direction. “Wait, sister!” she called.  

You turned slowly, trying your best to hide the annoyance on your face. Just let me go, you thought to yourself.  

“Is something wrong?” she asked. You sighed, realising you must have looked like a crazy person, bursting into the hall all dramatic and demanding she tell you where Papa was. You were frantic, and you must have worried her. 

“No. Nothing is wrong, I just... I need to talk to him,” you say plainly. “It’s important, but everything is okay.” 

“Okay...” she sounded suspicious, but didn’t press the matter, letting you turn and finally walk – calmly, so as not to draw more attention – back out into the hall. You then skipped into a run once out of earshot, finding your way to Terzo’s quarters. Thankfully, the halls were relatively empty, and you faced no more distractions.  

When you reached his quarters, you didn’t even knock. Pleasantries had gone out the window, and with the door unlocked you pushed your way into the door, opening it in haste and stepping inside, letting it slam behind you.  

You thought that with the door unlocked, it must have meant he was in here and yet... silence. Stillness. There was nobody, the living room vacant, kitchen empty. You sighed, turning to leave and readying to run through the halls again to find him when- 

“Who the fuck thinks it’s perfectly fine to just enter my fucking quarters unannoun-” Terzo bellowed as he stormed out of his bedroom door in the far corner of the apartment, his brain short circuiting when he stepped through the doorway and his eyes fell on you.  

His chest tightened, the breath knocked out of him. You were the last person he expected to see rush into his quarters; he thought he was picking a fight with Copia, maybe even one of the Ghouls or Christine but when he saw you stood in his living room, out of breath and flushed pink in the face with an expression that read as distress on your features, he blanked.  

Silence fell over you both. Neither knew what to say, too much rattling around inside your heads to fathom any words. All you could do was stare at each other until one of you would finally say something... 

“Are... are you okay?” he asked, finally shaking the fog from his brain and taking in how you looked; breathless, clearly panicked, wrapped in your outdoor cloak? He could see mud stains on your boots and the long skirt of your habit, a pink tinge to your cheeks suggesting you’d been running, and smudges of black around your eyes, as if you’d been crying. Terzo could only imagine that the ritual had failed yesterday. That you were here to scream at him for abandoning you, or chew him out for suddenly dropping you when you’d needed his help. 

“Do I fucking look okay?” you asked, weakly and with unintentional malice but it made him wince nonetheless. 

“Well, no, I...” he stuttered, avoiding your eyes that burned into him. 

“You see the state of me and you ask me if I’m okay?” You took a deep breath, shakily. “I had to perform greed yesterday. Without you. You weren’t there,” you cried, fighting back an angry sob. He wouldn’t look at you, too ashamed of the pain in your voice and terrified to see the tears on your cheeks that he knew he had caused. It was his fault you were going to fail this ritual, but he couldn’t... he couldn’t finish it with you. 

“Why would you want me there?” he asked, picking at his gloves and entirely unfocussed on you. It made your chest burn. 

“Because, I-” you paused. You didn’t want him to know yet, you were getting at something, trying to make a point. “You started this with me. We started this together!” you yelled, “I wanted someone close to me, and I get your Ghouls instead?” 

“Oh, per favore,” he scoffed, finally looking up at you. He was reacting with anger, his defence mechanism. He was doing it again; pushing you away, holding you at arms length and making you hate him before you would inevitably find a real reason to... “You’re close with Swiss. And you seemed to have no issue with that on Thursday when Phantom dove headfirst into-” 

“Could you just not be bothered anymore? Hm?” You needed him to listen. You needed to see how he reacted. You needed him to confirm what Primo had been saying. “You just thought ‘oh, I’ve helped enough. She can figure it out from here, no biggie’. You abandoned your ‘flock’?!” you yelled, accusing him of not doing the very thing he’d said to you when he’d kicked this whole thing off.  

Terzo’s eyes widened, his lips contorting into a grimace and his hands balling into fists at his sides. “So now you’re on my case too, eh? Now I’m not good enough for you either? Meraviglioso, (wonderful,) once again, Terzo, you miss the mark. You FAIL. AGAIN,” he screamed in sarcasm, the sound of his rage frightening you enough to take a step back from him, no matter the fact he was already a good two meters away from you in his living room while you stayed near his front door. His darkened eyes glared at you, challenging you. You stayed mute. 

“Go on, tell me more. Tell me how terrible a Papa I am, eh? Tell me how much you despise me, how little I do for this congregation, how disappointing I am. You are not the first, Sorella, and you will not be the last.” The sarcasm was a nasty shade of spite on him, but it did nothing to mask the hurt you saw so plainly now. You hadn’t anticipated such a strong reaction from him, all you had wanted was for him to tell you the truth about why he hadn’t shown up yesterday. 

“Papa, I just meant-”  

“What, _____? Because I’m tired of it. I am tired of trying to do the best I can and knowing that it still is never enough,” his eyes burned with angry tears, ones he swore long ago he’d never shed again. He kept them at bay with a shake of his head. “You know, it’s no wonder you’re losing your faith in Him, Sorella. Not when you have a Papa who disappoints you, so.”  

You’d heard enough of this; you couldn’t let him think that was truly what you thought of him. Not anymore, it was breaking you. You took a few steps forward, slowly as if any faster would spook him.  

“Why didn’t you come?” you asked him again, stern and strong. He watched you edge towards him, his chest heaving with deep breaths as he tried to collect himself. “Tell me, Papa. Why?” Your voice cracked, coming to a stop behind his couch where you rested your hands on the backrest for stability. Your legs felt like jelly, your head weightless and thrumming. 

“B-because, I...” He couldn’t. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t let you in, he’d only wreck it. He couldn’t explain why he’d needed to take a step back without confessing his feelings for you. You didn’t deserve that. You deserved so much better than him. 

“I wanted you. I needed you,” you told him, gritting your teeth as you spat the words at him.  

“You don’t need me,” he was trying to push you away again, to put up that wall around him. But after your talk with Primo, you could see it so clearly.  

“Don’t you tell me what I do or do not need, Papa. Don’t you dare. Because for the longest time, I had no idea what I needed, and now that I finally have some idea, you’re keeping it from me. You’re denying me, when you promised you would help me find it,” you sobbed, “I am telling you I needed you. Hear me!”  

Terzo’s eyes burned angrily into you, unable to look away from you as he fought with himself internally. He wasn’t getting it. Or if he was, he was being too damn stubborn to accept it. You couldn’t stop yourself anymore; he just needed to know. 

“Do you know why I left when I walked in on you fucking my friend, Papa?” you asked. He dropped his gaze to the floor, chewing on his cheek. He couldn’t look at you out of shame. “Because it hurt. It hurt too fucking badly. Because I had deluded myself into thinking that perhaps I was special to you in some way. And you know why I fucked Copia?”  

He visibly winced at your bluntness, those painful images flicking through his mind again. You were special to him, he thought. And it had scared him so much he’d pushed you away and into the arms of another man to exact your jealous-fuelled revenge. He was starting to see it now... But he remained still and unmoving; in denial. 

“Because he was just there. And I wanted to get you back. I wanted you to hurt, just like I was hurting. Do you know why, Papa?” Your voice sounded shrill, getting louder and more desperate the longer you berated him. But he just stood there, staring at the points of his shoes. Nothing. Silence.  

“Because I love you!” you yelled.  

His head snapped up, his eyes wild. He looked furious, as if steam would come shooting from his ears at any second. Under his stare you felt suffocated, just like you had when you’d caught him with Christine. All of the air in the room had been sucked out like a vacuum, your chest tight and unmoving.  

He glared at you, scrutinizing you, waiting for the punch line; one that wouldn’t come.  

“Say that again,” he demanded, jaw clenched impossibly tightly. You took a deep breath, your whole body tingling in fear. But you stood your ground; you had to. 

“I love you,” you told him, firmly. He just kept... staring. 

“Again...” He was challenging you. His voice was so dark, a timbre you would usually associate with rage, but something felt different. You persisted. 

“I love you.”  

His white eye twitched, his chest heaving in the silence.  

“...Again.” His voice softened, but only slightly. Had you not been listening, watching so intently, you would have missed it. His stare held up. But you could tell you were getting through... slowly. 

“I love you,” you told him again, your own voice softening considerably as fresh, hot tears dripped from your eyes. You meant it, with every fibre of your being. You’d tell him a thousand times until he believed you. 

“Again-” his voice cracked, the weight of his resolve beginning to crumble. You took a step towards him. 

“Papa-” 

“Per favore...” he stopped you from protesting, he just... he needed to hear it again. He shut his eyes, taking another deep breath. “Say it again, per favore.”  

With his eyes now shut, his voice shaking with the deep breaths he continued to take, you closed the distance between you both, still terrified you would scare him away.  

You lifted your hands, planting your palms gently on his cheeks. He raised his own, circling them around your wrists to hold you there as if you were about to disappear, that you’d turn and run from him when you realised what you were saying, what you were doing. But you were going nowhere.  

“I love you,” you told him again.  

Despite his eyes being shut, tears still escaped from the corners and dripped down his cheeks to your hands. But you just held him, you let them fall, let him feel... 

“Terzo...” you whispered to him, his eyes shooting open to stare into your own when he heard you call him by his name – his real name – for the first time. How beautiful it sounded from your lips. “I love you.” 

One last time, unprompted, was enough.  

In one quick motion, he pulled you forward and connected his lips with yours in desperation. His hands tightened around your wrists, before one dropped to the small of your back, needing you as close as he possibly could get you. Your grip on his head only tightened, holding him against you while you moulded your lips with his. He whimpered into the kiss – no, he sobbed – giving in to the surge of emotion. Your hands grew wetter as he cried, allowing it to pour out of him as if years of sadness and loneliness were being expelled and healed by just you.   

When he pulled his lips from yours, he couldn’t force himself to retreat, holding you close still as you caught your breath with your foreheads resting together. You dragged your thumbs over the tears on his cheeks, smearing his paints in the process but soothing him all the same. His breaths were shaky as he cried. He wanted to speak, to tell you everything on his mind but the words were falling over each other in the fight to be the first spoken. 

“Shhh,” you hushed him, “I’ve got you, Terzo. I’m here. I love you.” You hadn’t intended for that to make him cry harder, but it did; the kind of silent, repressed sobbing that a child does when they don’t want to be noticed.  

You lifted your forehead from his and waited patiently for him to look at you. There was still so much to say, but you focussed on calming him first.  

“Listen to me, okay?” you asked. He gave you a small nod, his reddened and waterlogged eyes searching yours. “You need to know, you are good enough.”  

He rolled his eyes then, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Hey! You stop that, you hear me?” you brought his chin back down to look at you, “You are a wonderful Papa. You are the perfect figurehead of this church. You care for your congregation. You make us feel safe, cared for. You make us feel heard and loved. You work so hard, Terzo, I’ve seen it. Fuck the Clergy, and fuck Sister Imperator. You are an incredible Papa, and I am so proud of you.” 

A fresh wave of tears fell from his eyes, but this time you cried with him. You meant every word, so sincerely.  

“You are good enough, Terzo. You are. And I swear, I’ll put all of my energy into making sure that I’m good enough for you, also,” you promised. 

“Amore mio, (my love,) you are more than enough for me,” he cried, pressing his lips to yours again, “Ti amo, Principessa. Ti amo tanto... (I love you, Princess. I love you so much...)” 

You pulled him back into a bruising kiss, your tears now falling freely. Terzo’s confession had swelled in your chest, blooming into a beautiful warmth. You’d longed to hear that, for him to open himself up to you and be vulnerable with you. Truly, you had never felt so loved than you had in his arms right now. 

With your feelings out in the open, the two of you sank into your kiss this time. There was no rush, no desperation. You allowed each other to melt into it, your lips danced together, creating room for you to taste each other again. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers curling into the back of his hair, whilst his snaked around your waist and held you against him.  

With each passing second your kiss deepened, neither of you willing to let the other go for more than a millisecond to catch your breath. Terzo had missed your lips so much; just a day without you would have been torture, but four? Four days? He was surprised he’d survived at all. 

His tongue grazed your bottom lip, and you welcomed him willingly. Your fingers scratched at his scalp when you tried to pull yourself tighter against him, wishing to feel every part of him engulfing you. Naturally, a heat bloomed in your chest and swam through your veins to light your entire body on fire. Terzo could feel it too, pulsing through his veins over and over to the beat of his heart that rocketed with each tiny little whimper he heard you make. 

He took a step back, taking you with him towards the bedroom where he’d appeared from earlier, parting your lips and taking your hands in his to lead you as he walked backwards. He didn’t want to take his eyes off you for a second, scared this was a dream and that looking away would make you disappear from his grasp. You stayed close to him, chasing the high of his kiss while the feeling of his lips still tingled against your own. 

“Terzo, I’m sorry I made you feel like-” you began to talk again, like word vomit, wanting to settle any loose ends in your mind about the way you had treated each other recently, but Terzo had other ideas.  

“Shhh, principessa, we can talk later,” he said, still taking slow steps backwards as he held you, “Senza pensare, dai, facciamo l'amore. (No thinking, come, make love with me.)” 

And how could you deny him, when you wanted nothing more than him... 

He stopped just short of the end of his bed, bowing his head to press his lips to yours again. Quickly you were swept up in him, gripping onto his shirt as his hands came to undo the clasp of your heavy winter cape. It fell to the floor around your feet, and his hands came to wrap around your waist again, enjoying the freedom less fabric brought him. Your fingers nimbly undid the buttons to his shirt, lifting it from where he’d tucked it into his slacks and pushing it from his shoulders. His skin felt warm to your fingertips, the hair gathered on his chest as soft as you remembered it. 

You took a moment to look up at him, noting the smudged and messy paints his tears and your palms had ruined. It felt like one final barrier between you and him, a mask hiding the man beneath. And you wanted to get to know all of him... 

Gently, you pushed the centre of his chest allowing him to step back himself and take a seat on the edge of the bed. He expected you to join him between his knees, to bend at the waist and kiss him again but instead you took a step back, letting his hand drop from yours. His eyes widened in panic, but as he tried to protest, you hushed him.  

“I’ll be right back, my love. I promise,” you said earnestly, turning to head through the adjoining door to his bathroom. Flicking on the switch, you looked around to find a washcloth and some gentle soaps for his face, catching your reflection in the mirror. You, too, looked a mess; the black of your mascara had run and pooled under your eyes. You looked too sad; something you didn’t want attached to this memory. And so, before you headed back out to Terzo, you wiped the smudges away, baring your face for him.  

Back in his bedroom, Terzo sat nervously playing with his gloved hands until he heard your footsteps approaching him, washcloth in hand. His brows creased in confusion, but you smiled back softly.  

“Sit back, Papa,” you instructed, voice gentle and encouraging him to shuffle back. He did as you’d asked, and you hiked your habit up past your knees, now able to plant them either side of his thighs and sitting in his lap. “Relax,” you told him, bringing the dampened and sudsy washcloth to his face and wiping away the grease paint. He wrapped his arms around you, watching with gentle eyes filled with adoration as you washed away the evidence of his breakdown. 

Under the paints, his cheeks were flushed pink. As you cleaned, you revealed more parts of him that you were able to adore; the creases in his forehead that showed how hard he worked, the lines at the corner of his eyes that showed how much he smiled. He had a mole under his left eye, a few freckles dotted here and there. It made him all the more beautiful to you with each new detail.  

“There,” you smiled, wiping the last of the paints away. “Nowhere to hide now.” 

“I don’t ever want to hide from you again, amore mio...” His tenderness felt different, something you had only seen glimpses of throughout the few weeks you had been getting to know him, but you adored it; you adored every side of this man. He raised his hand to remove the veil concealing your hair, tucking it behind your ear as he leaned in to kiss you once again.  

You felt completely carefree in his arms, allowing him to unbutton your habit slowly while you trailed your kisses across his cheeks, his nose, forehead and back to his lips where he smiled one of the most genuine smiles you’d seen on him. It was contagious, spreading to your own lips. You chuckled quietly together as you removed your habit, shrugging it off to the floor behind you. He removed his gloves and his hands took their place on your bare waist again, and your lips took their place against his. 

With you hovering above him in just your underwear, he couldn’t help but pull you flush against him and deepen the kiss. He wanted you so badly, in a way he’d never had anybody before you – a way he’d never allowed himself to until you. Need swelled within you, your hips rolling against his lap, hands on his chest. You whimpered into his kiss with another roll of your hips, core brushing against his hardening bulge beneath you. His lips passed down your jawline, ghosting over the skin until he could mouth at your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses. Your head rolled back, exposing more to him as you sighed in content.  

“You...” he paused, leaving another kiss to your neck, “are my pride and joy, amore mio,” he confessed, holding you tighter when another roll of your hips had him shivering in pleasure. He focussed his kisses further down, mouthing at your collarbone, your sternum, down to the swell of your breasts over the cups of your bra.  

Your head swam with emotion, unsure of how to really punctuate how much this meant to you, how much you adored him. You opted to show him, to continue chasing the intimacy.  

Terzo reached behind you, easily unclasping your bra and dragging it down your arms until he could lave his kisses over your breasts freely, paying particular attention to your nipples. Every single motion he made was done with care and attention no man had ever given you. You couldn’t help the breathless moans you let slip, nor the tight way your fingers curled in his hair and held him tightly.  

Pressure was building in your core, the kind that needed more attention than you had been giving it. Whilst you wanted to enjoy every second with him, you needed more from him; that connection you desired so fiercely. You pushed lightly on his shoulders until he was looking up at you in wonder. 

“Lay back, my love. Against the pillows,” you instructed softly. He nodded, shuffling back. You followed, stopping short of his hips in order to reach down and unbutton his slacks. He helped you to shimmy out of them along with his underwear, kicking his shoes off until they hit the floor with the rest of the discarded clothes. You hovered over him then, giving him a chance to drag your panties from your hips and let you shuffle from them too, leaving you both completely bare for the other to see; body and soul. 

“Amore, you truly are a wonder,” he whispered, tracing his fingertips down your arms when you sat across his lap once again. You weren’t sure how to reply to him, opting for a smile and another deep, passionate kiss as his arms enveloped you as you lay over his chest. 

Now nude, grinding down into Terzo’s lap had your core glazing over his length and hushed moans rising in your chests while muffled by your kiss. He could feel how ready you were for him, how much you needed him and he knew he needed you too. Yet, it was you who made the move to connect the two of you, reaching between you and lining him up to your entrance. Terzo sat up with you then, holding you to him to be closer to you and pepper kisses to your shoulders, back up your neck until he found your lips. 

You took him slowly, savouring the stretch and doing everything you could not to rush; with no preparation, you’d need a little longer but the arousal that had gathered made sure there was no pain. And while you sank down, Terzo’s lips made for the perfect distraction, moulding with yours so elegantly as he groaned beneath you. 

Now, finally sheathed inside your heat, he felt complete again. He felt connected to you, like each time he’d been here before. In his mind, you were made for him. You were all he wanted, all that mattered.  

The first roll of your hips was slow, careful, but it felt dreamy. You’d missed him so completely that finally having him and being so exposed emotionally as well as physically was overwhelming, and you could feel the tear that dripped to your cheek before you knew it was coming. As Terzo pulled his lips from yours, wanting to see you again, he noticed immediately. 

“Amore mio, don’t cry... I’m here,” he assured, running his fingers through your hair as you nodded, biting back more. He kissed your cheek where the tear sat, ignoring the saltiness and instead tightening his arms around you until your chests were pressed together.  

Together, you lost yourself in the moment, your pace slow enough for both of you to just feel; no rush, no real end goal in sight just yet. Just a moment to enjoy your connection, now bloomed and blossomed into something more beautiful that when you had first been together. 

But it couldn’t stay that way forever; not when the heat in your abdomen was growing slowly but surely, and when Terzo was beginning to lose his mind at how good you felt wrapped around him.  

In one swift motion and holding you together so he didn’t have to be without you shrouded around his cock, he rolled you onto your back against the pillows and settled himself between your legs. One arm came to wrap around the back of your thigh, pressing it up against your torso for a better angle, and he took control of the way he derived pleasure from you.  

His hips rolled into yours over and over, his pace a little faster than before, losing his resolve. He was becoming desperate to have you come apart for him again, to chase your high first and foremost before his own. Sathanas, he loved you so completely. He felt like a fool, a silly old man who’d let his own idiocy come between what could have been such a perfect thing.  

“Mi dispiace, amore mio... Mi dispiace così tanto, (I’m so sorry, my love... I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, gritting his teeth in an attempt to stop the tears he could feel coming.  

“Shhh, no... Terzo, it’s okay,” you assured him, taking his bare cheeks in your hands and making him look you in the eye. “I’m here now, it’s okay.” You pulled him to you, kissing him and melting the worries away in a heartbeat as he kept up his pace.  

“Tell me again, per favore...” he cried, “tell me you love me.” How could you deny him? How could you possibly, right now, not allow him to know once again how much you needed him. 

“I love you, Terzo. I love you, I love you...” you repeated between kisses, your fingertips pressing into his hair and gripping as the pleasure inside you built and built thanks to the intimacy of this moment together.  

“Cazzo, per favore...” he didn’t know what he was begging for, his pleasure sure enough about to come to a head. He needed you there too, he refused to allow himself his own selfish pleasures without you. He'd been too selfish already... 

And so, with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your thigh he used this thumb to draw circles over your clit, sending your head flying back into the pillows and your back arching underneath him, pushing your breasts into his chest as he thrusted more desperately into you. Any attempt at suppressing your moans failed, and they sounded like music to his ears; his darling principessa was singing for him once again. 

“Let go, amore. Per favore, let me feel you...” he asked so sweetly, breathless and strained. With a few further strokes to your clit and the relentless thrusting from your love above you, you saw stars. White spots twinkled in your vision and you squeezed your eyes shut, body tensing and convulsing underneath him when every single nerve ending in you exploded. Of all of the orgasms you’d had this week – and yes, there had been a lot – this hit you harder than any. Nothing could compare to the feeling of being loved. 

You tightened impossibly around his length, making movement hard for Terzo but he persevered; he couldn’t stop now, he needed to prolong your orgasm, he wanted to you to feel everything.  

“Ti amo, principessa. Sei tutto per me, non ti lascerò andare... (I love you, princess. You are everything to me, I won’t let you go...)” His words came out hurried, needing you to hear him, to confess again. Your grip in his hair tightened as you slammed your lips to his, writhing beneath him in the throws of your climax.  

Terzo groaned into you, his hips stuttering and his thumb forgetting it’s job on your clit when his own ending washed over him. Like your own, his orgasm hit him harder than any before now. The warmth of his release filled you, coating you and claiming you as his once again. He managed to continue some form of thrusting to prolong his pleasure and yours, until he found himself too exhausted to hold himself up any longer and released your thigh as he collapsed into your chest, his lips falling from yours to the nape of your neck where he lay. 

You wrapped him in your arms, pulling him tightly against you when you heard the first sniffle as he caught his breath, too tired to hold back the tears that prickled his eyes now he lay in your arms. Tears of your own fell too; a visceral reaction to hearing your love crying in overwhelm against you. For a while, you basked in the silence around each other and just allowed it all to come out. Given a few minutes to compose himself, Terzo shifted to lay beside you with your arms still wrapped around him.  

“I was a fool, ______,” he admitted. “I didn’t mean to abandon you...” You stayed quiet, allowing him to say his piece. You felt like he needed that.  

“I was so sure I would be a distraction. I didn’t want to come between you and Lucifer. You deserve to have that conversation with him, and yet I fear now I have spoiled that for you...” he sighed, visibly still beating himself up in his head.  

“Hey, look at me,” you told him, tilting his chin up to you where he was shocked to see you smiling. “If we haven’t done enough, I don’t care.” 

“But amore, your faith... I know how desperately you needed his direction. If I have spoiled this for you, I won’t forgive myself...” he argued, lip trembling.  

“Terzo, I have direction. I know what direction I'm heading, and it’s whatever direction you happen to be in,” you told him, gently pushing his hair from his forehead and trailing your fingertips over his cheek to wipe away his tears.  

The smile on his face was so genuine, so adoring; you’d never seen him like this before. Barefaced and beautiful; your Terzo.  

You leaned in to kiss him again, tenderly and laced with a promise to stay by his side as long as he wanted you with him. And he did; he absolutely wanted you by his side.  

“Sorella, you look wonderful,” Secondo smiled, holding his elbow out to you as you joined him outside of his quarters that evening. You had agreed to meet him before the ball, to enter the Great Hall with him and have the first dance at the All Hallow's Ball. You looped your arm through his with a grin, happy to be by his side and accompanying him as his friend and colleague. 

“What, this old thing? You know, something I had lying around...” you laughed, an obvious lie when the ballgown you had chosen was nothing short of spectacular. This was the one night a year that the entire Ministry would dress up in absolute opulence, people arranging their outfits months in advance for the most important night of the year. You had been no exception.  

Your gown was off the shoulder, a satin material of deep green that complimented your skintone. Corseted and hugging your waist, it flowed freely to the floor with a split that allowed your leg to peek through as you walked. You’d paired it with a string of black pearls; a family heirloom you'd kept safe for years.  

“Well, you look bellissima. Come, we mustn’t be late,” he said, beginning the walk through the halls to the Great Hall.  

Music flowed through the Ministry, gradually becoming louder the closer you got. You could hear the jubilant chatter of siblings and Ghouls alike, the clinking of glasses, the laughter of a happy congregation. This morning, you had been terrified to face that, sure you wouldn’t be able to match their elation. It had all seemed so daunting, and you would have preferred to hide away from it.  

And yet, now... you could only smile along with it.  

After your confession to Terzo earlier, you had stayed with him for a short period of time. Reluctantly, you had to allow each other the time and space to ready yourselves for the ball, his role as Papa having to come between that tender moment of simply being together, honestly. But upon leaving his quarters, the relief you felt and excitement to see him again tonight was fuelling you, a revived energy you hadn’t felt for what must be months.  

Perhaps you hadn’t completed the ritual; and that was okay. As you had told Terzo, it didn’t matter to you anymore. You had learned enough about yourself through the experience to know where you belonged now, and that was here, in this Ministry, beside your Papa. After tonight, you would work on whatever your relationship would become; and that was more exciting to you than hearing Lucifer’s voice.  

The Great Hall looked immaculately decorated... The bright orange drapery that Terzo had complained about earlier that day looked a much more demure burnt orange in the candlelight. The pumpkins from Primo’s patch littered the tables and halls, carved expertly by the most talented of the Siblings in the Ministry. Black candles burned in candelabras and chandeliers so elegantly illuminating the dance floor. Casino tables dotted through the edges of the room, giving everyone a chance to unwind and enjoy the deviant games.  

As you entered, a few Siblings turned to Secondo and bowed their head in respect, as one would expect. You smiled proudly at him; although a retired Papa, he deserved that respect whole heartedly, and you felt honoured to be the friend he chose to have accompanying him through his new role. He gave your arm a tight squeeze with his hand, and immediately took you to the dancefloor where Siblings were dancing in pairs and groups to the music played by Terzo’s Ghouls on the stage; a haunting yet jolly classic orchestral melody fit for a spooky evening.  

“I may be rusty, Sorella. Perdonami,” Secondo smiled, adjusting his arm to hold your left hand extended, the other resting respectfully on your waist.  

“I’m sure you have a few moves left in you, Papa,” you winked, smirking as your feet moved in time with his, remembering from lessons you’d had before previous Balls that you were to let him lead. Quite quickly, the two of you were comfortable enough dancing in time to the three-count waltz the Ghouls were playing.  

The night continued, with no sign of your dear Papa just yet; but as per every year, he had to make his grand entrance as part of the festivities an hour or so into the Ball. Instead, you and Secondo had danced and found yourself a drink of champagne; you’d found Dew and Swiss and watched them bicker and fight over who got to dance with you first; or at least, Swiss bickered, Dew just kept swatting him away. Both were equally annoyed when you chose the stuttering Phantom to dance with first instead, laughing it all off with him when you’d settled comfortably onto the dancefloor again. 

Eventually, Primo and Secondo headed over to you on the dancefloor to interrupt just as Sister Imperator and a rather decrepit looking Papa Nihil made their way up onto the stage where the Ghouls were playing out another piece of beautiful music, clinking her glass to get the attention of the room. Primo bowed a greeting as much as he could, a sweet and knowing smile on his face when he saw that you, too, were smiling. It must have gone well, he thought to himself. 

“Siblings of Sin, Clergy... thank you for coming together on this most important night of our calendar, All Hallow’s Eve!” Imperator announced. The room cheered and clapped together. “Tonight, we celebrate the sinners of past, present and future, and join them in their devotion to The Dark One. As is customary of the evening, I’d like to invite our dear Papa Emeritus the third to join the celebrations, and to anoint our evening in a prayer to Lucifer.” 

You could see the slight twitch in the corner of her mouth at the mention of Terzo, her disdain for him buried under the surface. It simply made you roll your eyes with a smug smile; the old crow didn’t matter. She’d never understand Terzo like you did, never accept him as he deserved but now, he at least had you to counteract her unwarranted annoyance of him.  

As she finished speaking, Terzo stepped up onto the stage and took to the pulpit as the room applauded. He was dressed in his most elegant robes; purple and black velvet with gold accents, mitre on his head proudly and his hands covered with black leather gloves, gold claws on each finger. He looked so incredibly regal, and your chest swelled with pride in his presence. His eyes searched the crowd, until they settled on you, smiling and clapping for him where you stood. He smiled back, feeling more at peace within himself than he ever had. 

“Good evening, Sisters, Brothers and Clergy alike. As the festivities of this evening have already begun, I wish not to take too much of your time. However, please join me in a prayer of devotion to Lucifer,” he began, clearing his throat and opening an unholy prayer book he had brought with him. 

“Our Dark Father, on this sacred All Hallow's Eve, we come before You with hearts filled with reverence and gratitude. We lift our voices in worship and devotion, acknowledging Your eternal grace and divine presence.  

“On this night of solemn reflection, we bow before You, celebrating our sins and devoting them to you. We seek Your approval and ask for Your guiding hand to steer us towards temptation and lead us onto the path of wickedness. Grant us the strength to devote ourselves to sin and the courage to walk steadfastly in Your ways.” 

As he spoke, you couldn’t help but stare at him in awe, beaming with joy. How could this man ever believe he wasn’t good enough? How could anyone? He exuded confidence, charm, devotion and commanded the room with a charisma that was unmatched.  

Primo beside you nudged your elbow, catching your attention with a wink and a smirk. You shared a silent chuckle, affirming to him that yes, everything had gone well, and everything was okay. Primo’s shoulder’s sagged, like a weight had been lifted from them and sighed happily, looking up at his little brother at the pulpit again and refocussing on the prayer with pride. 

“As we commemorate this hallowed eve, we remember the deviance and devotion You embody. May this celebration be a reminder of Your teachings and let our gatherings be filled with joy that stems from the knowledge of Your unyielding love for us, your sinners. Help us to embrace this occasion as a time to reaffirm our commitment to Your teachings and to stand resolutely against all that opposes Your divine will. Nema!” 

“Nema,” the room cheered, taking a sip of whatever drink they had to hand at the time.  

“Now, please! Eat, drink, be merry... We devote ourselves to Him together tonight!” Terzo announced, raising his hands and gesturing for the Ball to continue. The crowds dispersed back to the bars, the games, the dancefloor, whilst Terzo headed to the side of the stage to talk mindlessly with Sister Imperator and his father. The music began again, and the Ball resumed.  

“So, I trust my dear fratellino and yourself have uh... talked?” Primo asked, prying for details. You chuckled, nodding. 

“We did. It’s all okay, Papa.” 

“And what of the Ritual?” he asked; he couldn’t help but be curious. To see it performed and completed in his lifetime would be nothing short of an achievement on your part. 

“Ah... Unfinished. But don’t worry, Primo. I think it’s for the better. Even unfinished, I don’t feel so lost anymore...” you smiled, resting your hand on his arm to reassure him that you truly were okay.  

“I see. Well, you did the Dark One proud anyway, cara mio. You have come the closest of those I have seen attempt it. And I hope from here, fratello mio will show you nothing but happiness. Just... be patient with him, sí? He will take some time getting used to this feeling, I’m sure,” he said. You nodded.  

Primo invited you to dance then, although... he couldn’t move quite as nimbly as Secondo or the Ghouls could and so instead you stepped in place with him, swaying to the music as you talked and laughed as if you’d always been as close to the Emeritus family as this. It almost felt as if you had, unknowingly. There was a newfound connection from the conversations and antics of the week that had solidified you as a close friend to them all. It felt comfortable, as if you had truly found your place in the Ministry. You realised then, that your wavering faith may have been an issue of breaking down your own walls, as well at Terzo’s. 

“Papa, mi scusi... I cannot help but notice that you are a terrible dancer, and not at all worthy of the hand of this bellissima principessa,” an instantly recognisable voice interrupted your thoughts and your dance with Primo. “May I suggest I take over, as someone with a little more youth to offer?” 

Primo stopped dancing, a scowl on his face of annoyance when he turned to Papa Terzo. “Piccolo bastardo impudente... (Cheeky little bastard...)” he muttered. Terzo held an amused glare before sending a wink your way. It was embarrassing, the way just that made you blush. With a sigh, Primo let you go.  

“Comportati bene con lei, sí? (Do right by her, yes?)” Primo said, although the meaning of it was lost on you, your Italian not strong enough to translate, “È destinata a stare al tuo fianco. (She is meant to be by your side.)” 

“Sí, lo so... (Yes, I know...)” he smiled gratefully, aware that it was in fact Primo who had helped not only him see clearer amongst this mess, but you also.  

As Primo left, he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, and held it out for Terzo to take. He pulled you flush to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and his around your waist.  

“Papa, people are gonna think...” you began to protest, looking around at the eyes that had settled suspiciously on you both; most notably, Imperator’s. 

“Ah, let them. Are they wrong?” he teased, starting to dance to the music. “They would know soon enough anyway, amore mio. I don’t intend to hide you away,” he smiled.  

Terzo was a skilled dancer – because of course he bloody was... what couldn’t this man do? - and ignored the many pairs of eyes that watched you both, the whisperings of the gossiping congregation around him. He couldn’t care less for them, not when he had the most beautiful woman, his amore in his arms.  

“You look truly beautiful tonight, amore. As you always do,” he told you, eyes scanning over the dress you wore and the pearls settled around your neck. He was mesmerised by you, and you couldn’t help the heat rising to your cheeks. 

“Thank you, Papa,” you said shyly, focussing on the patterns of his robes to try and hide your pink cheeks. But it was no use, he could see the effect of his compliment and he chuckled to himself, his hands tightening around your waist. 

His gaze stayed on you as you danced together, talked together, laughed together, long into the night. 

Unfortunately, as a Papa, he did have to do the rounds at some point during the Ball, leaving you to your own devices with a promise to rejoin you as soon as he could run away from his duties. However, that did leave you with some free time to enjoy the Ball around you, and so you made your way over to one of the many casino games that were dotted around the Great Hall. Blackjack was your game. One of the few casino games you actually enjoyed, and wasn’t solely down to luck. It was more about knowing when to bow out, and when to raise the stakes.  

You sat at the table, the Sibling dealing placing two card in front of you, and two in front of the person to your right; Cardinal Copia.  

“Oh, hey Cardinal! How are you?” you asked, a little shyly having acted the way you did when he last saw you. The Cardinal was staring at you with wide eyes, a few garbled words attempting to make their way from his mouth before he finally managed to speak.  

“F-fine, fine, Sorella. And... you?” he asked, tentatively. He was well aware he had come between something on Sunday, and he was terrified he’d bear the ramifications of his actions.  

“All fine. Relax,” you laughed, “I feel like you should know, the other day... I was-” 

“I know. I... eh, I saw the look on your face. And on his. But is everything...?” he lingered on the question, unsure how to answer it when there was another person in such close proximity, dealing cards. 

“Good. Better than, even. If anything, I think that whole... situation... only served as an epiphany. So, no hard feelings?” you asked, extending a hand for him to shake. He did so awkwardly, but no more awkwardly than he would any other human being who tried to shake this poor man’s hand.  

“Sí, excellent, okay... Uh, let’s play?” he asked, gesturing to the cards. You nodded.  

You flipped your cards, immediately revealing two jokers. You stared at them, confused. How did the jokers remain in the pack? They weren’t part of the game...  

“Excuse me, you dealt me two jo-” when you looked up, the dealer had vanished.  

In fact, the entire Great Hall had been plunged into a cloak of darkness. Everything was gone; just a vast expanse of black and dead silence as far at the eye could see. With no light, you had no idea how you were able to see so plainly the blackjack table you were sat at, let alone the cards as if an overhead light were beaming down on you.  

You heard a chuckled from Cardinal Copia beside you, except... when you looked, it wasn’t Cardinal Copia at all.  

“I couldn’t resist, my dear,” the voice laughed, “a little joke of mine, hm?” 

The voice was smooth, like the darkest of Belgian chocolate melting on your tongue beside a fireplace in Winter. The depth of the timbre rivalled the deepest parts of the ocean, and yet was as calm as a serene lake in the height of Summer. 

The man in the Cardinal’s spot was somewhat older, you would have guessed in his early 60’s by the silver of his long hair tied in a sleek pony tail at the nape of his neck and the beard perfectly groomed on his face. But his form was well kept; fit and healthy with a natural looking bulk to him behind the lapels of his black velvet suit. He was strikingly handsome, a silver fox, no doubt.  

He reached over to your cards and tucked them into the inside pocket of his suit, sending a wink your way as you gawped at him.  

“A-are... are you...?” you stuttered, unsure of what you were witnessing but in your mind there was only one explanation.  

“Lucifer, my child. A pleasure to meet you,” he bowed his head, taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to the back of it. Your heartbeat raced inside you, thrumming in your ears like a hummingbird. “Ghoul!" he called out.  

A Ghoul stepped up to the dealer’s position from the shadows, his mask glinting on the light that didn’t exist. He began to deal more cards, resuming the game of blackjack.  

“B-but... I never finished the ritual,” you stumbled, all formalities you thought you would have in this moment lost completely in your attempt to string together what on earth was happening. Lucifer just laughed at you, flipping his cards over and playing against the dealer. Your cards remained untouched.  

“Is that so? Well, I haven’t been wrong, yet...” he teased.  

“Then how-?” 

“My dear, the only sin you think you didn’t perform was ‘pride’, but I’m here to tell you that you did, with quite some flair... All those tears and confessions of love. It was quite touching, I must say.” 

You cast your mind back to your afternoon with Terzo, when you’d confessed your love for each other and had the most intimate, emotional sex of your life. And you’d told him you were proud of him... 

“Yes, that. But Terzo had told you at the beginning that if you were to bestow the sin upon someone else whilst still being involved in the act of carnal lust itself, then that also merits a performance of sin, did he not?” You nodded dumbly, following along, “yes, well, you are Terzo’s ‘pride and joy’, I recall him saying? You had him thinking, for a moment, that he was proud to be your papa, and proud to be yours, my child. That’s enough for me!” he explained, “Ah-ha! Twenty one, Ghoul. Pay up.” 

The Ghoul handed Lucifer some chips, taking his cards from him and starting a fresh round. Yours still remained untouched and face down on the table. Lucifer nodded towards them, encouraging you to play, and so you flipped the first as per the rules, and joined him in a round together.  

“So please, child; you performed this ritual to talk to me. Speak freely, I’ll offer what assistance I can,” he promised. He leaned on the edge of the table by his forearms, ready to listen to you as the game continued. 

“Well, I... I was lost, Your Eminence. I wasn’t sure where my path was headed. I didn’t think I had done enough for you. You speak to my siblings, but never me and I supposed I wanted to ask... what are they doing that I’m not?” 

Lucifer laughed at you; a hearty, genuine laugh.  

“Oh, my child... You want to know what they’re doing instead of you?” he asked, grinning wildly before leaning towards you and lowering his voice, “they’re lying.” Your eyes were wide and brows furrowed in confusion. “Yes, I promise you. They’re lying!” he sat back up straight, “hit me,” he spoke to the Ghoul, who dumped another card to the table. 

“But...” 

“It’s a bragging thing, they each want people to know how important they are, or how hard they worship. I can assure you, the only people in your Ministry I have ever spoke to directly is each Papa during his ascension. I don’t have the time to talk to every person who worships me. Those siblings are liars, it’s simply a contest of ‘daddy loves me more’,” he laughed.  

You felt silly, like you’d been fooled by those around you. Your head sagged in defeat; and you’d based the majority of your wavering faith on that.  

“But you did need direction, dear, I'll give you that. You felt stagnant, yes? Without purpose? Each and every day the same, day after day after day....” he gestured his hands in circles, his tone over-exaggerated to mock-droning in a boring monotonous routine. He pointed again at your cards, telling you to flip them and play. You did so, hitting 19 on your first two. 

“Ooh, will you risk it?” he asked, shimmying his shoulders and biting his lip in a playful challenge. “Or do you play it safe, as you have been for years?” 

His euphemism wasn’t lost on you, and so you decided to risk it. 

“Hit me...” The Ghoul dealt you another card, a two of hearts. How fitting.  

“Aha! See, a little risk pays off,” he winked as the Ghoul handed you some chips and took the discarded cards back, shuffling them again while Lucifer continued. “Do you want to know your purpose, my child? I mean... that’s why we are here, is it not?” 

“I-if it’s not too much trouble, Your Eminence,” you say sheepishly, feeling now like you had bothered him over a silly little belief that you weren’t as good as your lying siblings. It all felt very high school, now... 

“How sweet of you... No trouble at all, my dear. Ghoul, deal us in.” The Ghoul did as asked, placing four cards face down in front of you and Lucifer together. Lucifer waved his hand over the four of them, and moved to pick up the first.  

When he flipped it, the card showed none of the suits you knew in a standard deck of cards. Instead, it had a picture of the typical depictions of the Devil. A beast, half-man, half-goat sat atop a podium. A nude man and women stood either side, chained by the neck to the podium however the chains looked loose, as if they could simply remove them and run free but chose to stay chained to the block, imposing limitations on themselves.  

This was a tarot card; traditionally drawn. Your first card, was The Devil.  

“Oh look, it’s me!” Lucifer smiled, “Hello.” 

You stared between him and the card for a moment, astonished.  

“Usually, this card means you need to re-evaluate your connection to things or people. I believe you’re doing that already, yes? What is keeping you chained up? What is holding you back? I would say, my child, that was... you. Would you agree?” he explained, and yes, you did agree.  

“Yes...” 

“Good. That’s why I'm here; you wish to free yourself. But look, these people in the card... they look like they could easily free themselves, no?” You nodded along. “Exactly. So, this is you, on your path to freeing yourself. Wonderful. Next please, Ghoul.” 

The Ghoul flipped the second card for you both, revealing a picture of a man and woman, holding hands and completely nude, with an angel above them with dark robes and wings. The Lovers. 

“This one is fairly obvious, yes? Yourself and Terzo have confessed your love for one another. Excellent. Brava. I’m glad you could come to that conclusion yourselves; it’s certainly made this easier on me,” he laughed. “This typically symbolises a union, wanting to accomplish something together with another too. I think in both cases, we can say that this card works well for you both.” 

Lucifer gestured to the next card for the Ghoul to flip. The picture revealed a man dressed like a court jester stood at the edge of a cliff. He looked as if he was about to step off the edge and plummet, but he stared dreamily at the sky as if the heavens would save him. The Fool. 

Lucifer laughed at this one, slapping his hand on the table as he roared. You couldn’t help but smile at his laughter; a beautiful sound to hear from the Dark One. But ‘The Fool’ unnerved you. Who exactly was the fool? Were you, too, about to fall from the edge of a cliff, blissfully unaware of the danger beneath you? 

“Oh, forgive me, my child. This fool does make me laugh. Look at him; as if the heavens would save him...” he sighed, regaining composure. “No, no... Do you see the rose in his hand? A symbol of love. This man is a fool indeed, or at least he has been. I think yourself and your dear Terzo have been quite foolish, have you not?” 

You had; you could admit that. Both of you had acted in a ridiculous way and hurt each other in the process.  

“Fear not, that foolishness is over. No, this card is symbolising a new path. Both yourself and Terzo are ready to embark on a new journey now. You, my dear, are specifically to start on a new spiritual path. Your faith in me was wavering – and believe me, I take no offence. But now... what do you believe in, my dear? Tell me.” He encouraged you to speak, and only now did you realise how quiet you had been throughout all of this. 

“W-well... My Lord, I've read all about the demi-gods, would-be gods, papas of old, demons, devils... I searched for the longest time for information, and I tried so desperately to get closer to you, and I feel as though I have,” you explained.  

“Closer than most,” he winked, alluding to you being one of the few who’d ever had the chance to speak directly with him. 

“Yes, exactly. And I thank you for coming to me, Your Eminence. Truly, but... But if there's one thing, just one thing out of that entire pantheon... I believe in him." 

The Devil’s smile widened into a bright grin as he leaned on his arms.  

“Oh, I am a romantic...” he teased, “and yes, I see that in you. Your belief in him is stronger than anyone’s and whilst I do stand before you as you so wished I would, I know you would defy me entirely if only he asked you to.” He quirked his eyebrow, taunting you to disagree with him, but you couldn’t and you knew it. You looked down in shame.  

“Again, I take no offence. I couldn’t possibly, when the two of you are so destined for each other. Even I cannot stand in the way of your bond. But don’t you worry – he won’t ever ask you to defy me. Now, would you like to see the final card, child? You know you’re on a new path, but would you like to know what exactly that path entails?” he asked, reaching a hand to sit on your shoulder, his palm burning hot against your skin.  

Part of you wanted to know. Part of you didn’t. There was a fear, a simmering dread inside you that worried it was something you couldn’t fulfill, but then... if Lucifer himself is setting you on this path, then even he had every belief this was the correct one for you. And so, you nodded, ready for whatever the final card was.  

The Ghoul flipped it at Lucifer’s command. The card showed a woman, sat and holding a book in dark robes. Either side of her sat two pillars; one black, one white. A moon sat at her feet, and atop her head was a headdress of the three lunar phases. The High Priestess. 

You looked at the card, confused. You had expected something a bit more telling, but from the picture alone, you could gather nothing. Lucifer saw your confusion, and took your hand in his, holding it between both and forcing your attention to him.  

“I’ll explain, don’t panic,” he smiled comfortingly. “The High Priestess... she hints at something hidden preparing to come forward. She advises you to have awareness around yourself, and your spirituality. Of the things around you. You’re ready to accept the important next stage of your life.” 

You took a deep breath; all you could think of was that next stage with Terzo.  

“There are things that would give away to someone in the know just exactly the bond you have with him...” Lucifer began, as if reading your mind again, “Did you notice when you first performed lust that he took his gloves off, my dear?”  

You thought back, picturing when he’d made you bite the fingertip of it and drag it from his hand. You blushed at the memory, knowing the Dark One had seen everything. But now was not the time to get shy.  

“He did that each time with you, did he not?” You nodded. “He isn’t supposed to. I warned him during his ascension, the Papas wear gloves for a reason. His contact, his touch, was saved for the only person it was ever meant for now that he was a Papa. And without even thinking about it, he took them off for you.” 

The confusion in your mind swam; it had seemed so insignificant but when you thought back to catching him with Christine, as painful as that memory was, he had still been wearing his gloves then... 

“Not to mention the removal of his paints, your second night together. A very similar meaning there; barefaced Papas are saved for those who truly see them. Do you comprehend what I’m saying, my child?” he asked, stroking his thumb over your cheek.  

Truthfully, you didn’t. You were trying to piece it all together, searching the texts you’d studied as a younger sibling and trying to find what any of that meant other than the fact that there was a connection of some sort; a bond. 

“The High Priestess is a figurehead of feminine power, my dear. The lunar cycles on her headdress represent the three stages of womanhood: maiden, mother, crone. She has appeared here, because she is showing you your feminine power. One that is hidden inside you, preparing to come forward.  

“You are his; destined to be. Child, you are his Prime Mover.” 

Your heart thudded in your chest. That term... you’d heard it before, many years ago. It was a destiny, a divine path for a woman meant to be at the side of a Papa. Not every Papa had one, and it was incredibly rare to find her at all. There hadn’t been another Prime Mover since the early 1800’s. The pull you felt towards Terzo, the almost instant connection and ferocity of your love after just a couple of weeks made sense now. 

Prime Mover. 

You were the feminine figurehead of the Satanic Church; Papa’s other half, his Queen, for lack of a better term. Your rightful place was at his side, leading in the name of Lilith herself. The power that was bestowed upon Terzo during his ascension was destined for you too.  

“I-I... can’t be. I’m not cut out for that... responsibility,” you protested, shaking your head and removing your hand from Lucifer’s as the shock overcame you.  

“I chose you for a reason, my dear. You are the one, because I know that you are cut out for this. Your devotion for the last sixteen years proves that to me, but I knew it the moment you were born. This is your birthright,” he explained, his expression more serious than you’d seen it before. “It’s coming, my dear, and you can’t stop it.”  

Lucifer stood, towering above you now on his feet and stepped closer towards you.  

“They’ll know as soon as they see you, my dear. The Emeritus line bears the mark of the Divine,” he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours gently in a kiss that felt otherworldly and yet, not in the slightest bit romantic. You closed your eyes, your head feeling light and airy as you melted into his kiss. And then, he stepped away, your eyes fluttering open. 

“...And now, so do you.” 

You looked at him in confusion, seeing him smirk at you and run his fingers down the left side of your face. He looked... proud? Admiring you for a moment too long.  

“You need to go back, my child. You need to show them. I’ve enjoyed our little talk, but for the time being... you must go.” 

You panicked, not ready to go back yet; what if you had questions? What if you needed His guidance again? You had no idea what to do from here. If anything, you were more confused now than when you entered this strange little void.  

“W-wait, please... What if I have questions? I don’t know how to do this, Lucifer, please!” you begged, reaching for him. He held your hands and steadied you, his touch instantly soothing.  

“Don’t panic. I will see you again soon. We’ll talk again, at your ascension. For now, just show them.” 

“Show them what?” you cried, tears prickling at your eyes. Lucifer just smiled, stepping back from you and raising his hand. Before you knew it, his fingers snapped, and you were plunged into a black void.  

Lucifer vanished, and the stool you sat on as well as his and the blackjack table disappeared and you fell, endless falling through nothing. Your limbs flailed and ballgown billowed as you fell into nothing, the weightless feeling terrifying you the longer you dropped.  

Until finally, you hit the floor and your eyes shot open.  

With a start, you awoke, desperately throwing your hands out to your sides for purchase. You gripped onto silk, looking beneath where you lay to see familiar purple and black bedding, and feeling a soft mattress under you.  

“A-amore?” you heard his concerned voice from the corner of his room. He sat beneath the only light he had on; a small lamp stood next to him. You remained shrouded in mostly darkness, confusion sweeping over you until you settled on him. 

“Terzo... what...?” you began, unable to finish the sentence as you looked around the room; a small part of you wished you’d seen Him. You weren’t done with your questions yet... 

“You collapsed at the blackjack table, amore. But... no one could find anything the matter in the infirmary. You’ve been out for hours...” he stood, worried and careful, sitting at the edge of the bed and reaching for your hand that still gripped his sheets as if you would start falling again at any moment. You looked up at him then, finally seeing the worry lines etched into his paint. But when Terzo saw you, his expression changed from one of deep concern, to one of immense shock.  

His jaw dropped, eyes widened and brow creasing. The hand on top of yours smacked over his mouth and he stood quickly, backing up until his back hit the full-length mirror in the far corner of the room. 

“T-Terzo...? What’s happening?” you asked, fear spearing you through the chest.  

“Y-you... your...” he couldn’t speak, his voice trembling as if in fear. He pointed instead, his gloved hand raising to your face.  

The fear propelled you, forcing you up and off of Terzo’s bed to stomp towards him, fumbling with the skirt of your ballgown only to try to comfort him, calm him down but he moved out of your way just a step to the side and you were left staring at your own reflection.  

Even in the dim light, you saw it. You couldn’t miss it. 

Your left eye had turned almost completely white, save for the pupil, blown out in the centre. Lucifer had bestowed the Divine mark on you.  

‘Show them’ he had said. He meant... show them your mark. 

“T-Terzo... He did this. He came to me,” you panicked, reaching for him. He let you grab his arms, holding you too when he snapped himself from his initial shock. “He showed me m-my path... He told me that I’m-” 

“Prime Mover...” Terzo finished your sentence. He knew what that mark meant for you. “You’re my... Prime Mover?” He asked, the words sounding more like a desperate gasp. You just nodded at him, your hands squeezing at his arms and tears spilling over your cheeks. You found yourself smiling – grinning, even.  

“I’m yours; I was always supposed to be,” you laughed in shock, biting your lip to try and contain the wild grin as more tears fell.  

Terzo couldn’t take his eyes off you, staring at the mark that held so much meaning that it was overwhelming. He brought his hands to your cheeks, holding you as you gripped his wrists.  

“Supposed to be mine,” he breathed, his lips curling up at the edges as elation started to settle in, his panic and shock wearing off. “You’re... you’re mine, principessa?” You nodded frantically. 

And Terzo couldn’t help but laugh. Out of relief, out of disbelief... he couldn’t tell but he knew he was overjoyed. Words failed him, and instead, he pulled you to smash his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. He had hoped after today you would remain together, of course, but this? He could never have predicted this, never seen this coming.  

But now, everything made sense. 

“Tell me, amore. Tell me everything He said to you, what did He show you?” He asked, pulling you back to the edge of his bed to sit and explain your vision. You told him about the blackjack, about how you’d completed the ritual, about the tarot cards. You told him each one’s significance in your past, present and future, and he gleamed at you the whole time, in awe. 

“He told me to ‘show them’... I think He meant this?” You said, pointing at your eye. “I didn’t know... Not until I just saw. This is the Divine mark, isn’t it?” Terzo nodded, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone underneath it. 

“And it looks so beautiful on you, amore,” he said dreamily, “my Prime Mover...” The happiness in his expression as he took in this news was evident, and it only made your heart swell. 

“He said something about an ascension?” you mentioned, confused and hoping Terzo may have an answer for you.  

“Sí, you will have one... We will need to prepare for it, of course, but that makes you... my equal. At least, in the Ministry hierarchy. I’m to believe that you are, in fact, worlds above me... But yes. You will ascend to Prime Mover with me, principessa.”  

You couldn’t describe how you felt in that moment; an intoxicating cocktail of happiness, love, pride, and relief. Not only had you completed your ritual, but you had found your purpose. You had found your place in the ministry, in your life, in the world... and it was by Terzo’s side.  

“We’ll share everything, cara mio. My role extends to you, and I can think of no one better to don my colours, to help lead this congregation, to help spread the word of our teachings and grow this church. Lucifer knew what he was doing when he picked you, that’s for certain,” he beamed, leaning into you to kiss you once again. He was so in awe of you, so in love with you, it was almost sickening.  

“Lucky for me, purple is my colour,” you smirked as you sat back, hinting at Terzo’s papal colours and adoring the idea of sharing that with him, of matching with him. 

“Oh, I remember. Vividly,” he smirked, his mind wandering back to that first time you had slept together. “Come, amore. People were worried for you, we thought you were sick. And Lucifer has asked you to show them your beautiful new mark, no?” he stood, pulling you to your feet with him and wrapping his arms around your waist. “I can’t wait to show Sister Imperator this...” 

“Perhaps we show her first, hm?” you smiled wickedly, pulling him closer to you by the stole of his robes. 

“Oh, principessa... It might just send her into a coma. Or worse...” he teased, his lips hovering close to yours.  

“Here’s hoping...” you laughed evilly. Terzo threw his head back in a deep laugh, one that vibrated his whole chest. 

“Oh, you are so my Prime Mover...” Terzo snickered, leaning in to engulf you in another breathtaking kiss; a final private moment together before he proudly paraded you back through the halls to anyone and everyone who had ever doubted him. 

His pride and joy. 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading all the way to the end of this fic. I'm so grateful, and truly I can't believe the amount of love on this. I'm in total awe, and I hope you'll join me for the next one...

Happy Halloween, Ghesties! 🎃

Prev: Day 6 - Greed

A huge thank you to @her-satanic-wiles for beta reading, and @adinferix for fine tuning the Italian translations! 🖤

Tag list:

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[whowrotethenote]

Warnings // Angst // Grief // Profanity // Talk of death and murder

Word count // 7.8k

Disclaimer // The Tribal Killer Masterlist // Chapter One // Roman Reigns Masterlist // Main Masterlist //Join My Taglist

The atmosphere in the dimly lit cigar lounge was nothing if not grown and sexy. Seductive and luxuriate. The exact space where surgeons, finance guys, CEOs and anyone else who wore designer suits to work—ironed to a trace of no flaws—went to bide their unwinding after a stressful day.

The usuals scattered about. At the bar, seated in the booths or standing at the high tables that were dressed in pristine white cloths vacant of any stain or wrinkle. White collar hustlers and whoever they report to. Men and women in pantsuits of all colors. Black, brown, blue, grey—and sleek as all hell despite the wear and tear that comes with working enduring hours in the city. Suit jackets most likely hanging off the back of their chairs or left in the car altogether. Dress shirts unbuttoned and ties loosened. 

Cathedral-like ceiling with nostalgic decor and timeless paintings splattered on the walls. The buzz of enlightening chatter and glasses clinking on the bar top, being dished out in almost a robotic fashion—all leveled out by the live jazz band. That earthy and almost leather scent of Mayan Cigars, mixed with the cologne and perfume you could only find in stores where the workers get paid on commission. 

In a less than quiet corner of it all, sat two young women. Breaking through to their late twenties, and trying to navigate in a world where the odds were stacked against them. They clinked wine glasses for the third time that evening, drawing attention from nearby patrons. A bustling force they were. They could have been as quiet as church mouses, and still would’ve captivated the attention of the room. Young, vivacious, and hungry as hell in spirit.

A single lamp and two lit candles set up on the table before them, illuminated their exotic beauty. 

“So,” Naomi started. Cheeks burning with anticipation as she set the wine glass down. “I met another guy.”

She had been waiting all week for this. It’s tradition. Every Friday night, they’d meet. Same spot—same time if their schedules allowed it. 

Their worlds collided in law school just five years prior. Both interpreting the world through roseate eyes, despite being two women of color sneaking through the backdoors of a predominantly white-male dominated field. 

They yearned for the same things out of this little life. Access, a bank account that was never in short of commas, and to earn a name for themselves that would supersede the surnames of their fathers. Two paths that outside of law school, would’ve never intercepted one another in the way it did—despite them growing up just two hours from each other. Naomi pushed to the outskirts, due to her heritage—loved to hear the recounts of how Juno grew up. In the big and kinetic city of Detroit. But as of late their roles had changed. It was now Juno who became the listener. She marveled at the endless tales Naomi would relay to her about the men she intertwined herself with—for almost every reason outside of love. 

Juno’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. She should’ve been used to this by now. It's not an abnormal confession coming from the lips of Naomi. In fact, it's usually the ritual that comes before the night takes that juicy turn. Right after the routinely and courtesy, how have you beens—what’s new at work—or how’s your family questions. 

Every man that tangled themselves within her web was different from the last with only one shared trait amongst them. Wealth. 

“Another one? I thought we were happy with the law guy?”

Naomi waved a French manicured hand. “Oh, he’ll be fine. He won’t even notice if he shares me. Believe me, he has more than enough on his plate.”

“So what does this one do? Or should I say which skyscraper does he work in?”

They never addressed her collection of men by name. Always by occupation instead. Mostly because the bulk of them were either unhappily married or just too high-risk for Naomi to proudly attach herself to. Controversial and problematic politicians. High ranking officials who over the years earned themselves a significant amount of enemies. Men seeking out the company of a young beautiful woman who didn’t mind cutting ties at any given moment. Naomi was a middle-aged man’s dream.

She grabbed her friend’s hand after another sip of wine. “That’s the thing, friend. There is no skyscraper.”

Juno’s perfectly lined eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Excuse me?”

Naomi nodded with a cheeky grin. “That’s right. This one is…different. Definitely not my usual type.” She quickly surveyed the room. The band and consistent chatter concealed anything being transpired between the two, but still a girl could never be too careful. So, she leaned in closer. “He’s a truck driver.”

“A truck driver.” She repeated the words back to her in a flat tone, waiting for her to reveal it was a joke, but all she got back was that equally wicked and innocent grin only Naomi could give. “And where the hell did you two cross paths?” 

“He was bringing in supplies and stuff for the office.”

Juno entertained the idea, but she knew her friend. She was into prominent men. Men whose last names held weight. Men who could get her to where she dreamed of ending up. Normal guys—normal anything wasn’t Naomi’s taste. It just wasn’t in character. Whatever spell the ordinary truck diver had enchanted her with, would be gone in a matter of time. A few more good quick fucks and she knew it’d be back to regular programming. 

Judgement wasn’t a factor within this friendship. Understanding took its place. As a black woman, Juno recognized the struggle of having to break down doors that were locked and always being looked at as if she didn’t belong. Naomi being a Native and growing up on the Isabella Reservation, these same adversities had attached themselves to her life. It seems the rest of the world got away with mediocracy, while they had to be exceptional just to be considered. The game was rigged. So, if her friend had to cut corners and break rules, then so be it. She was standing ten toes behind her. 

“When I saw him,” she continued, “I couldn’t take my fucking eyes off of him.” Her big lakes of brown seemed to grow wider as she relived the first moments of seeing him. “I could see his back muscles through his shirt. Ju his arms—oh my god, you would’ve melted. He looks like one of those fallen Demigods kicked out of Olympus or something. The literal definition of tall, dark and handsome.”

“He sounds like a literal character. You sure you didn’t imagine him?”

“I thought I was imagining him. Until he caught me staring and said something to me.”

“What did he say?” Juno teased in a hushed tone.

“‘You must like what you see, sweet butt.’”

“Ugh!” Juno recoiled earning a hearty laugh from her friend. “Fantasy over. Fucking forget it.”

“I know—I know. But trust me—I couldn’t even focus on what was coming out of his mouth. I was too busy picturing him naked. And his eyes—oh, his eyes, Ju. There’s something very dark and dangerous about them, yet so innocent and luring. I don’t think I ever saw a more beautiful man up close like that.”

“He’s from the Reservation?”

She shook her head. “He lived there for a while he said, but he was born not too far from you.”

“Miss Nodin, are you dipping into chocolate again?”

A red hue casted over her small face. “No, he’s not black,” she confirmed. “I’m not sure what he is actually. Maybe from the islands? He has tribal tattoos. He’s older too.”

“Of course. How much older?”

“Late thirties,” she answered. Juno bore a hole into the side of her face. She was going to make her ask.

“I know you hit already.” Naomi failed miserably at trying to conceal the grin with another sip of wine. “On a scale of one to ten?” She pressed.

“…Fifty. The scale has been broken.” 

“God bless you—and the truck driver.” 

“It was weird though.” Naomi’s energy shifted from her natural ray of sunshine to something else, as she picked at the left over Caesar salad on her plate. “He wouldn’t let me touch him.” Juno’s eyebrows turned down. “He tied my hands up. At first, I thought it was just this kinky thing. BDSM and all that. But then after when he untied me, I tried to touch him and he almost lost his shit.” Juno’s face cinched as she listened intently. Naomi shook her head and waved. “I don’t know. Men are weird.”

“That they are. Remember Reese?” Both women burst into a fit of laughter. 

“Yes! How could I forget? Neat Freak Reese. He used to make me shower before and after.”

“I told you your labia was going to fall off from all that damn scrubbing.” They leaned in closer, releasing the last of their giggles. 

“Oh god,” she expressed. She grabbed the wine glass once more—the corners of her lips lifted like her spirit as she eyed her friend. 

“What?” Juno battled a smile of her own.

Naomi shook her head. “Nothing. I just love you. That’s all,” she confessed at a whisper. Even though it wasn’t a secret. She just had grown so enamored with their bond in that moment. She hadn’t felt her best that week. Work was—well work. And she was having the normal battle with her mother that all girls do at that age eventually. When are you going to settle down and get married? Jumped with all these questions surrounding her future. Naomi had no longing in her heart to start a family. She had trouble most days just getting out of bed and doing for herself. A silent battle she kept hidden. To everyone else, she was the ray of sunshine tasked with lighting the entirety of Michigan up. She couldn’t fathom the burden of having to get up everyday and cater to children and a man she vowed to love forever. It was too far fetched. 

She thought most of her adulthood that something might’ve been wrong with her. Why was she always running into so many more hurdles unlike her peers who seemed to be gliding through life? Why didn’t she dream of the perfect white dress and walking down the aisle to the man she couldn’t live without? Why didn’t she daydream of what her face might look like on a little girl? Maybe she just wasn’t made right. She chalked it up to her wires just getting crossed during childbirth. That was until she met Juno. The other half of her.

She had everything she wanted right at that table. A girl who understood her—seen her. To be seen and understood is to be loved. She didn’t need nor want for anything else except that which she already found in Juno. Men were just these beings to have fun with and satisfy her sexually and financially. 

They clinked glasses for the fourth time that evening. Hearts full and worries emptied for the time being.

“I love you too.”

Juno wiped the hot tear like it was made of acid and burned her cheek. And she was burning up—inside. Her soul. Her conscience. She felt responsible. She knew the lifestyle that Naomi carried on with and she knew it would inevitably catch up with her. She just figured she had more time. More time to convince her that there might be another way—a safer solution to all of her problems. 

And now she was dead. Memories. That’s all Juno had to show for the near five year friendship she shared with one of the most exhilarating human beings she had ever met. Her smile could’ve brought life back into a funeral home. Whoever sought out to end it was nothing short of pure evil. And Juno felt in her soul that she wouldn’t know rest until she sought him out. 

That memory alone was enough fuel to light her fire back up. She had been sitting unmoved like she was paralyzed for nearly thirty minutes inside the parking garage of the Oakland County  Prosecuting Attorney’s office. Engine still running in her Honda Accord coupe—trying to build up enough something to just go in. 

Memories of the two of them—full and making something out of nothing. Laughing until their stomachs ached and reaping the benefits of their hard work in spaces others didn’t think they belonged—was like the electric shock of a defibrillator. She was doing this. 

She hastily pulled the mirror down to clean up any mess she had made from crying tears she hadn’t meant to. Nothing Nars concealer couldn’t hide. She slammed it shut, grabbed her LV Neverfull and the car door slammed not long after. 

Head held high to the sky—she implanted Naomi’s boisterous laugh in her membrane the whole way through the lobby—past the older receptionist that usually greets her with the warmest smile and ‘good morning,’ whose head was bowed down today instead. Heels clicking on the marble floors in pursuit of the double elevator doors. The whole way up she pictured her friend lying on the floor of her home—lifeless under the hands of someone she trusted. Not even knowing that day was going to be her last.

And when the ding of the steel doors sounded and they separated—it was Naomi’s voice whispering ‘I love you,’ that pushed her to keep walking. In the buzzing hallway—despite it being seven in the morning—amidst the ringing phones, people moving about with coffee and paperwork—it was the crime scene photo of all those poor young women that shielded her from the nasty and apprehensive stares. The chatter. People she used to go out for drinks with after a long night in the office, covering their mouths with a stack of papers to talk to another colleague, as if the papers and shifty eyes were any less indication that she was the topic of conversation. 

In her own office, she rested the left over empty box on the desk, amongst the overflowing ones she had started to fill some days ago when she came in for her exit interview. She packed everything up mostly that day. All she had left was to clear the glass desk full of ornaments that gave insight to who Juno was as a person—not just as an attorney. The framed graduation picture. She stood all smiles, cap and gown, with the mock degree in hand—in between her mother and father. Her older sister beside their father with her oldest niece on her hip—pacifier stuffed in her mouth. 

The sun shone down on them that day. One of the most memorable days of her life. Everyone in the picture had cried at least once that day—even her hard ass of a mother. Tears for Juno and all her hard work and how much further she vowed to go. Graduating from Howard wasn’t the finish line. It was the starting point to a new race. 

She wondered what everyone in the picture would think of her now. Would they still be proud of her? Would they support her? Would they think she was making the worst decision of her life? Would they disown her? Doubt and the cousin of fear crept into her mind everyday since she went in to interview Roman and came out as his defense attorney. None of it had hit any of the news outlets yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time. 

Especially now—after today, as she came to collect her things and move out of her office. This made it official. The exit interview and the resignation letter was one thing. Blanch had kept making it a point to remind her that it wasn’t too late to change her mind with every day that passed her by. The offer more daunting and threatening than it was comforting. But she was determined. Some called it stubbornness. Since she was younger that same bug had affected her. People doubting her and already counting her out since she was a girl. It was all the push she needed to keep going. Even if in the middle of her persistence, she realized that she may have went the wrong way, it didn’t enable her to turn back. She just couldn’t. Ten toes down was the mantra she lived by. 

She laid the frame face down at the bottom of the last empty box, not entirely sure where the picture would end up now. She wouldn’t be strong enough to look at their proud smiles until she was able to bear fruit of this drastic change and present it to everyone who had a helping hand in getting her this far. 

The elaborate holder of pens, pencils, highlighters and sticky notes came next. With every little movement she could feel their eyes on her. All sides of the office were glass. A change that came with Blanch’s reelection some years ago. Transparency was his motive—and transparent she definitely felt.

Three knocks had her lifting her head up from the tedious task of packing. In the doorway stood the man she came into this office with. They had been hired within two weeks of one another. Completed basic training together. Partied together—shared war stories from law school and failed in this very office together—while also learning from said failures together. Her colleague and who she would like to consider a friend—but she knew that ship was sinking considering the circumstances. Myles Baldwin.

“Baldwin,” is all she said after a beat. Continuing her pursuit of packing after dismissing the pity on his face. The nasty stares she could manage, but pity? No—she despised it.

“Accardi,” he greeted back. “He wants to speak with you before you go,” he informed. 

“Of course he does.” She tucked her bone straight hair being her ears, scanning the room for any strays of her belongings, until she felt his presence growing closer. 

“Don’t.”  She didn’t even spare him a glance. She knew him all too well. 

“How long, Ju?”

Her arms lowered slackly at her sides, dreading eye contact. “How long what?”

“How long have you been cooking this up?” He spoke in a hushed tone. Eyes weren’t just everywhere. There were ears too. “I know you.” His light eyes accentuated under the bright lights of her old office mixing with the natural daylight from the window—pierced her in a way she had grown immune to. “You are not a spur of the moment girl. You think about everything before you do it.”

It's not that she felt compelled to explain herself to anyone—especially no one inside these walls. She was now the enemy. But her and Myles shared a bond that transcended work hours. She felt a sense of loyalty that she only hoped he did too. 

Rubbing her forehead she breathed deep. “I knew Naomi…she was my friend,” she confessed. 

“Wait.” He stepped closer, closing the space between them and shielding her from anyone who was watching. “Naomi? As in Naomi Nodin? The latest victim?”

She nodded. “We went to law school together. We took two different paths afterwards, but still friends nonetheless.”

“Holy shit, Ju.” The wall of apprehension he had built before speaking to her was now decimated. 

“This is personal,” she continued with a hardened jaw. “Blanch is ready to close the whole thing because of one man that knew a couple of the victims. Yeah, he was cooking Naomi. Big whomp. And I get it. Roman Anoa’i is as sketchy as they come. He’s the perfect suspect. But that’s why I’m not convinced. It was too easy. I can feel it in my heart that he’s not our guy. And I won’t stand by and watch an innocent man be executed. I couldn’t help Naomi.” She swallowed the tingle threatening to restrain her words. “But that—that I can help.” 

The hand previously rested on his hips, extended outward to invite her small frame into his much larger one. No more words needed. So she accepted it. It felt like a sip of hot chocolate on a snowy day. The hug of a lover after a long stressful day at work. 

Their bodies conformed to one another. His woody cologne wrapping her the same way his muscular arms had. Juno didn’t want to let go, but the reality of it all hit her. Her eyes popped open as she peaked over to the right through the glass.

“They’re staring,” she mumbled into his arm.

“So, let them. I made it very clear last week that I won’t tolerate any Juno Accardi slander in this bitch.” He pulled back with two big hands still planted on her shoulders. “You’ve done too fucking much for this office. They all know it. Regardless of how they feel about this—they can’t deny that.” After his words settled in like lotion on the skin—Juno finally nodded and he mirrored it. “He’s in a meeting now. That’s why he sent me out here to get you.”

“I’m not even his employee anymore and I’m still waiting on him. Lovely.” For a white man, Hunter Blanch sure does run on CP time. Every department meeting delayed in anticipation of his arrival. Mornings where he’s jogging in an hour behind everyone else, tie not all the way done, with the Starbucks emblemed cup serving as evidence to his tardiness. 

Myles revealed his perfect smile, snickering. “Just consider it his final act of love.” In his stride to the door he looked back one final time. “Good luck, Juno.” He offered what he could now that  they were officially playing for opposite teams. A minute grin and words of encouragement even if they were in vain. Because he knew just like she did, that this was not the office anyone wanted to go up against.

Juno sat in the cold and sterile waiting area outside of Blanch’s office. The grandest and most intricate of the whole building. She could see him through the glass. Hands going, glasses on the brim of his nose as he spoke with whomever was on the HP monitor. 

His controversially young, Russian and very blonde, executive assistant sat behind her extensive desk—not offering any words to Juno since she sat down. It didn’t bother her. They never got along. It was no secret amongst the office that Hunter Blanch had a thing for young assistants and secretaries that his wife so redundantly made him switch out every few months. A pointless enforcement if he was going to hire a young and exotic one to his liking every time. Even if he didn’t do anything with them, everyone knew they at the very least, served as eye candy for him throughout his more than stressful workdays. It's cheating to some degree.

Juno didn’t get into anyone’s business in the office, but one too many sly remarks from the twenty-one year old new hire, implying that Juno had gotten her job from offering something to her boss, was enough to put a bad taste in her mouth about her. 

No one knew the real reason she was able to snag this job so swiftly, so fresh out of law school and even after her incinerating first trial as a defense attorney. That’s how she preferred it. That reason opened a completely different door of even more controversy.

The phone rang causing Juno to jolt a little in the quieter than usual enclosed space. 

“Yes…she is… okay.” She hung the phone up and continued her game of solitaire on the double monitors before her, that anyone watching would get tricked into thinking was actual hard labor. “He’s ready for you,” she announced. Not even sparing Juno a glance. 

Juno laughed to herself before rising up to enter the glass doors of his office, but not before stopping to give her one last piece of her mind. “If I were you babygirl, I’d take a break from the games and start building that LinkedIn profile.” She cheesed and held her Apple Watch up. “According to Mrs. Blanch—your time is almost up here. Looks like we are both out of a job.”

“Juno,” Blanch called out with more enthusiasm than what was necessary—considering the circumstances. Something of a smirk danced on his mouth as he relaxed in his desk chair. He held a hand out. “Please, have a seat,” he offered. 

She was temporarily distracted by the floor to ceiling windows behind him that gave view of the entire city. His office housed the best view in the building. Absolutely breathtaking. The exact motivation one would need to carry out the heavy burden of governing freedoms and juggling the lives of the innocent or guilty. 

Concrete jungle designed with skyscrapers full of Oakland County’s finest. The hub of the working class. Everything moving and functioning as intended—only it was Juno’s life that had taken a slight pause.

Easing into one of the two leather chairs stationed in front of his desk—something dawned on her. She had faced everyone today, except the giant she dreaded most. 

“Where’s Leah?”

“Well,” he started. A hand came up to relieve himself of the glasses he only used under his wife’s advisement or rather her enforcement. The name plate on his desk and on the outside of his door read Attorney General Hunter Blanch, but everyone knew who really ran shit. “She took the week off.” She nodded feeling the pang of guilt again, making her shift in the seat. 

In Juno’s entire time in the DA’s office, Leah Williams had only taken off for two occasions. A mandatory leave after her breast augmentation and her late father’s funeral. Now a third time presented itself. When the young girl she took under her wing betrayed her and made her to be a fool. “It seems your new ambitions has everyone on…edge.”

A deafening silence took over his spacious office. Horns from cars intermittently filling the void of their words but the silence was louder. Juno bowed her head to fool with her manicure. Lips twisted to one side as she thought of what she would say to Leah when she saw her again. She prayed it wasn’t in the courtroom. Leah Williams was the Chief Deputy Prosecutor for a reason. She was a beast in the courtroom. Only one loss in her current role under her belt. No one had slain the beast and lived to tell the story really. That’s what made Juno’s unforeseen move that much more agonizing. She was studying under Michigan’s finest. Anyone else would’ve quite literally killed to be in her shoes and she took them off with ease it seemed. God, she really hoped someone else was taking her place. Please, anyone but Leah.

“You really are sure about this?”

“I am.” She met his intense gaze once again.

“I hope so. Cause after today…” His shoulders went up and then down with raised brows. “I can’t extend any more olive branches.”

“You keep them for someone who actually needs them.” She sealed and signed her fate. 

Another long and uncomfortable silence crept into the room. Blanch squinted and rested an elbow on the armchair to smooth his growing dark beard. He analyzed Juno like he would a case study. She was exceptionally smart, ambitious and her curiosity was unyielding. She was always the one in meetings asking the questions no one else thought of. The cross her I’s and dot her T’s, no corrections needed, can recite the case front to back, kind of student. None of it meant anything in their world. 

“Do you remember what I told you on your first day?”

“You told me a lot that day.”

“Well, what stood out the most?” He quizzed. 

She thought long and hard abut her answer. It was no secret that Blanch was one of the most cutthroat  attorneys Michigan had ever seen. He—unlike most of his peers—had actually earned the title he claimed. He and Leah were like Shaq and Kobe. They obliterated their enemies and left no space for remorse. The verdict almost always in their favor. They dealt in facts and effortlessly swayed the jury. How many of those verdicts were in line with the truth? No one will ever really know. It’s irrelevant. 

“Sometimes the bad guys win.” He snickered and tucked his bottom lip in to control it. Only, Juno wasn’t amused. “Not what you had in mind, huh?”

He shook his head and leaned forward on the desk between them. “No—not at all.”

Her head tilted to one side. “So tell me, Blanch. What do you think the most important thing was that you told me that day?” She probed. Oh so ready to get the fuck up out of there. She was in enemy territory now. She could feel it. No matter how many olive branches he extended or deep chuckles that escaped his throat. They had different agendas now. One’s success meant the other’s failure. No way around it.

“Courtrooms don’t weigh morality. They balance reality.” The room grows colder. Goosebumps form on her smooth skin. His eyes, dark and enticing, are like pins—holding her in place. “What can be seen. What can be heard,” he continued. The pace and ease in which he was able to go from warm to ice cold was off putting. Made her second guess every smile he ever flashed her way. “Your soul has no place in the house of justice.”

Suddenly, Juno was uncomfortable. She thought ethics to be the foundation of law. She was wrong. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Her eyes bounced around the office, no longer able to play tennis. “Anything else?”

“Good luck, Juno.” While Myles’ words were encouraging with an undertone of grief for the brief moments they shared as colleagues—Blanch’s was sinister. He spoke like a man who had already seen the verdict. 

Leaving Juno is suspense of two things. If the bad guys would really win this time—or if all morality had been compromised in this office. 

Juno sat in the mess of all the new paperwork she had to obtain since transitioning from the prosecution to the defense. All case files had been returned to the Prosecuting Attorney’s office and in their place were the generic untouched ones. Files absent of her and her previous team’s notes. She was literally starting from scratch.

Pulled an all nighter to get everything somewhat organized to the way she had it before. If anyone walked in, they’d be floored at what she considered organized. Papers and files everywhere scattered about. On her coffee table, the couch, some on the island in her kitchen, and decorating the floor to the point where you could barely see the pebble-colored vinyl flooring. 

The first rays of morning—coral and apricot lines—danced over her apartment through her white sheer drapes. Reminding her of how sleep-deprived she really has been. It didn’t start with the switch up. It started the night her phone rang in the dead silence of one in the morning. Her apartment pitch black. Alarm set for four hours later, but the ringing shocked her awake before her time. It was Leah calling to inform her that they had another victim. Juno’s heart ached at the thought of this bastard taking the life of another woman. Her blood had ran cold when she received the address of the latest crime scene. A home she had been plenty of times before and didn’t need to utilize the GPS for. A home she had spent countless nights—cooking, drinking, playing cards, binge watching Law & Order, and gossiping about everything under the sun. 

Walking up to the house full of strangers—absent of the owner she knew and loved—flashing lights of blue and red dancing on the outside of the single floor cabin-like house and the pine trees surrounding it. Windows grand enough to see inside the residence. The burnt orange ceiling lights giving way to the interior—specifically the kitchen. Juno’s car door shut as her stomach went hallow. Lump in her throat, making it nearly a task to just breathe and swallow normally. The small rocks crackled under the weight of her Uggs as she put on foot in front of the other, through all the people crossing paths in front of her. Men and women in uniforms—all oblivious to the very discombobulated Juno. 

That’s when she saw her. Sprawled on the kitchen floor. Shiny, black tresses extended over her face. Stiff as a board. 

Her knees went weak as she barely made it back to her car and emptied out whatever was in her intestines and more. Bile, sweat and tears mixed as she hyperventilated on the side of her Honda. 

She stayed crouched over like that for too long. She had a job to do. Rearranging herself back to as normal as possible—she walked back up and inside the house on autopilot. Everyone speaking to her, asking her questions, and she could barely hear a thing. She avoided the corpse like it was a mini fire in the woods. 

Juno sniffed, shaking the worst memory she’s ever conjured back to its rightful place. Locked in a dungeon of her psyche. Her phone ringing aided in helping her brush it off.

“Hello—” She quickly cleared her throat to mask the cracking of it. “Hello?”

“Please tell me what they’re saying about you on the news isn’t true.” Her older sister tumbled through the speaker of her phone. Her and the rest of her full house already live and moving about. 

“Good morning to you too, Jamila.” 

“Juno, I’m serious—” A banging followed by a guttural cry. “Oh, fuck me.”

“What is going on over there?” Juno tried her best to suppress a laugh. Every time she spoke to her sister it sounded like she was the ringleader of a circus. It was safe to say her circus was running her this morning. 

“She fell off the bed. That’s her new thing. And we’re teething now.”

“That sounds fun.”

“The news, Ju? Please tell me they have the story wrong?” She pressed. 

“Well, what are they saying?” Juno only halfway listened as she thumbed through more files seated on the plush rug in her living area. Hair tied up in a loose bun and glasses constantly slipping to the end of her nose.

“You left the DA’s office?!” She sounded like she might burst into flames—or tears. Juno could never tell. “To defend that nigga that killed all those women? I don’t understand—I thought Naomi was one of the victims? Have you talked to Mommy? And what does Papa think? Didn’t he get you that job?”

Juno continued to read with her sister’s mild crash out as background noise. Jamila wasn’t just the ringleader in her own household. First born girl of her original family had made her the stick that kept everything and everyone around her in place. Her younger sister always serving as her toughest challenge. Juno didn’t follow rules that went against her own will. Stubborn little thing she was from birth. The two girls always clashing because of this. 

Petty fights over dolls and who got the last bit of cereal turned to arguments about who would get the car for the night or stolen clothes from either’s closet. All escalated to Jamila chastising her sister for not wanting to settle down or her dangerous career path. It wasn’t jealousy. Most people who didn’t know the girls personally would think so. Jamila settled for a quiet and simple (not so quiet and simple) life of marrying rich and defaulted to a stay at home mom. Four kids later she seemed to be working the same strenuous and chaotic hours Juno had. She couldn’t imagine doing any of it while trying to maneuver a career path. So she eased up on her little sister after growing up a little and realizing the necessity of choosing one or the other. In adulthood, a newfound respect for the newborn she remembered holding in the hospital with a toothless grin, ripened. 

So, yeah, it wasn’t jealousy. It was genuine concern rooted in unconditional love. Jamila loved the fuck out of her baby sister. Every time Juno didn’t answer the phone she thought of all the crime shows she watched while her kids were off to school—where the convicted yearned for payback from whoever was responsible for putting them away—and thought the worst. She was well aware that her sister’s career called for her to piss a lot of folks off, but she also knew her sister had a calling for justice. She was gifted. So, she let it be.

“It's still on. Turn on Fox.”

Juno reluctantly grabbed her remote. Fox being left over from the previous day and sure enough there she was. It was footage from the press conference held on the steps of the holding facility just a couple weeks before. Blanch gave his statement to all the microphones of the world while she and Leah stood on either side. 

“Former Assistant District Attorney, Juno Accardi has resigned in her role as the lead prosecutor in the state of Michigan vs Joe Anoa’i. Anoa’i has been the number one suspect in a nineteen count homicide and sexual assault case. He’s been in holding for the past month awaiting trial. Not only has Accardi resigned but she has taken on the role as Anoa’i’s defense attorney amidst her departure from the DA’s office…”

Juno watched, not even blinking as they zoomed in on her frame. The voice of the news reporter fading to black. Heart beating erratically. She knew it was coming. No amount of preparation could tranquilize this feeling. They switched abruptly to a more recent press conference. Blanch in the forefront as usual. Black hair sleek and luscious, dressed in an expensive designer suit—but, no Leah. She could tell from the background it was held on the steps of her former job. 

“We just want to assure Oakland County and Michigan as a whole, that the priority amidst the chaos— is and always will be, the pursuit of justice. We are confident that we have all we need to bring clarity and a peace of mind back to the victim’s families and the rest of the young women of Isabella. The recent loss of one of our own does not deter from that. If anything it’s given us the extra push we need to flush out anymore bad apples in preparation for trial…”

“Bastard.” She heard Jamila spit. “—No, Tootie! You don’t repeat mommy!”

The news woman carried on as a picture of Roman’s mugshot presented itself next to the footage of him being taken into the holding facility the day of his detaining. Cameras flashing, more than enough microphones shoved in his face as he tried his best to conceal himself with a broad shoulder amongst the swarm of reporters and belligerent patrons. SWAT team trying their best to keep everyone at bay and off the unsolicited superstar. 

His eyes—just as Naomi exemplified. Dark and dangerous, yet innocent and luring. Paradoxical. Nothing about this man made sense to Juno. The news broadcast rocked her. And for the first time since this whole thing—she questioned if she had made a mistake.

"Ma'am we ask that you stay at least six feet from the cage at all times. He shouldn’t be in the possession of any items, but in the unusual case that he—”

“Do you mind if we skip the formalities? I’m kind of on a time schedule here.” Juno fished a plastic smile for the guard ready to read the list of protocols off and bore her to death. She came here with a purpose and she had more than enough already stacked on her plate. 

The familiar shiver from the arctic atmosphere of the room they held the beast in, greeted her the minute she took her first step on the concrete. She found him the same way as last time. Hanging from the bars pulling himself up. Jumper hanging loosely above his hips. Hair clinging to his broad shoulders. Back muscles slick with sweat—waving at her.

Leaning all her weight on one foot and crossing her arms, she stood by as he finished his last set and released himself with a thunderous thud. His dark eyebrows knitted together and chest heaving as he turned to focus on her. 

“Juno.” The upper corner of his lip turned up as he tried to bring his breathing patterns back to normal. “So the rumors are true.”

“I’m a woman of my word.”

“I can see that.” His menacing eyes made a trail from the two open buttons of her black jumpsuit, down to her red bottoms. She cleared her throat. “So, what’s next?”

“Well, I’m working on getting you moved to a better facility. Something not as secluded and closer to the city.”

“And how long will that take?”

“I don't know. Could be weeks. A month.” She shrugged. “When I left the DA’s office, I left all my connections so—pushing paperwork is gonna be a bitch.”

“You did all that for me?” He got comfortable, leaning his back into the corner of the cage closest to her. All his attention on her. 

“I did it for me—following that voice in my head,” she confessed. The voice was Naomi’s, followed by a horrific montage of all those girls, pale-faced and bleeding out. “I did it for them—all those girls he murdered. And yeah—yeah, I guess I did it for you too.”

He used his long fingers to smooth the unkempt beard down. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell your secret. Lil’ Juno has a soft spot for Roman.”

Silence enveloped the two strangers whose lives were now inevitably entangled and dependent on one another. Juno was the first to break.

“Is there anything that I don’t already know, that I should?”

His lush bottom lip poked out. “Nope. You know as much as you should,” he lied. He bit his lip looking her up and down again. He was seeing her with a different pair of eyes. This wasn’t the same woman from weeks ago. That girl was timid. Unsure. This one housed fire and she was  a force. It turned him on as much as it intimidated him. He knew it wouldn’t be long before she could see through his cracks—his flaws that weren’t so obvious. “You and I have a long road ahead of us. We are going to have some fun, sweet butt.”

“I have two rules.”

“Lay it on me.”

“Never lie to me.” The first rule landed like wrecking ball. “The only way this works is if we have full transparency. Whatever I ask—I need an answer. None of that cat and mouse bullshit from the other day. We’re officially on the same team now,” she declared. “Doesn’t matter how big or small. Anything. It all means something. We have attorney client privilege. Anything you say has to stay between us. I can’t judge you for it.”

His head bowed as he pursed his lips. “Yeah as my attorney you can’t judge me. But as Juno? The person? You’ll definitely be judging…” There was weight in his words that made Juno’s heart feel heavy. “What was the second rule?” He requested, pulling her from whatever rabbit hole she was ready to go down. 

“Don’t ever call me sweet butt again.” The deep tenor of his laughter filled the vast room and she couldn’t help the grin that painted over her face.

But as it settled she slid off the temporary cloud and was faced with reality. The air around the two growing thick. He could sense it as he looked back in her direction. 

“Last chance,” she warned. Jaw tight. No more games. “Did you kill Naomi Nodin?” Her nose burned as she remembered her. Full of life and light. Reduced to a corpse. She had so much life left to live. So much more to offer this world. 

Roman’s perfect teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he regarded Juno. His emotional intelligence whispering to him that this was not the time for his smart ass remarks or deflective riddles. So he told her flat out, “no. No I didn’t.”

She nodded. Accepting it for what it was. She didn’t know why but she trusted that he was telling her the truth.

“Same time, same place tomorrow?” 

He nodded once. “I’m here all day and night.”

She turned to leave but halfway she’s halted in place due to her name being called. “Juno,” his baritone voice hurdles through like a boomerang. She turned. “Thank you.” He stared not blinking. The gratitude was intense. Still, Juno didn’t think of herself as deserving just yet. All she had done was follow her heart like she was taught. Selfishly, it had more to do with her and not him. 

“Don’t thank me yet.”

This is what her life had become. Unpredictable the sharp left turn it was, but it was now her new normal. She didn’t believe in coincidences. She believed she was exactly where she needed to be. A character in an already well written story. She didn’t believe in miracles. She knew in order to get to the other side she wouldn’t be unscathed, but she had to put the work in. The journey ahead was long just as Roman professed. It had twists, turns, boulders and barricades placed intentionally with thorns and potholes to add insult to injury. And as someone who was no stranger to grievance—it still strained her to think of. It was like locking the last piece of a Lego house just for someone to come and kick it down. Yeah, you can start from scratch and familiarity of the process once done, should make it easier—but easier is subjective. Especially when they’ll always be someone lying in wait to come kick the Lego house down again at any given moment.

She couldn’t save her friend. Naomi was dead. She wasn’t coming back. That much would haunt her until her mind was dust. But she could salvage one life and that was Roman’s. So she focused on what was possible to fix and buried—literally and figuratively—what wasn’t. 

A/N // If you read this or even a portion, I am extremely grateful. As always feedback is welcomed💗

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divider credit— i cannot for the life of me find where i got this damn banner from. if you recognize them, pls tag them. if its yours pls comment

[joesanrio]

stop it cause your last fic was so good!! i wish i could rb but i have minors following me:( anyway i was wondering if we could have a little joey fluff? just some tooth rotting fluff if yk what i mean:’’)

Really :D I’m so glad you liked it, and it’s totally understandable 🩷 Of course, I need to take a break from the nasties anyway lol

I don’t Share | R.R

Summary: Joseph is used to being the only one with your attention, but what happens when there’s competition?

Pairings: Joe Anoa’i {Roman Reigns} x fem!reader || established relationship

Warnings: Fluff 101, Time skips, mentions of alcohol, small sexual innuendos, Joe is drunk, stubborn!Joe, understanding!yn, cuddling

Word count: 1215

Ratings: Fluff | 16+

A/N: None of the friends mentioned relate to anyone in real life. Just pure fiction.

———————————————————

Listening to my music as I sat at my vanity getting ready to go out with Joe, he walks in wearing his usual button up and jeans. “Curly hair tonight?” he asks as he sat behind me on the bed, nodding as I finished styling my hair. “Let me see your hair...” I request as he turns his head to show the little ponytail he put in, “So cute!” I smile as he turns around and looks at my face in approval. Getting up from the vanity, I look at my outfit and compare it to Joe’s to see if I am over-dressed.

“Where do you buy these little dresses?’ Joe asked while playing with his wedding band, “I don’t know ask my credit card, I just get the packages.” I shrug jokingly before heading to the closet to put on my shoes. He gets up from the bed to stand at the closet entrance, after admiring my outfit, he finally walks away to get his keys. “Y/n… remember it’s just some of my work friends we are meeting with.” Joe reminds me as I walk out the closet with my purse, I hum in agreement before grabbing my phone off the charger.

Joe turns off the lights, as we leave the room. “My car?” I ask as I look through my purse for the keys, “No- actually yeah.” He hesitates before putting his keys on the counter once I pull out my own. We headed to the door, before I remembered to go back and turn on the alarm.

[Restaurant 7:50pm]

“Hi, I’m Y/n” I introduce myself as one of the fiancés of Joe’s friends, Ryan, comes up to me. “I am Charlotte. It’s nice to finally meet you! Joe talks about you all the time.” Her dimples popped as she smiled sweetly at me. “Really! Nice to meet you too!” I respond before she tells me that the rest of the girls are at the outside bar, “You’ll fit in perfectly!’ She says as she guides me through the restaurant to outside.

It was beautiful, string lights hung up above us with little flowers complementing certain tables and the wooden tables having small candles on them. “It’s gorgeous! Why don’t the guys come out here?” I question as I admire the scenery, Charlotte shrugs before introducing me to 3 other girls. Brianna, Alondra, and Aaliyah. They were all beautiful, having distinct features that even the most forgetful person couldn’t mistake.

“You live around here?” Alondra asked as she moved her long dark hair behind her shoulders, “Yeah about 15 minutes away actually.” I engage in the small talk with a smile. “Lucky! It’s so gorgeous here!” Brianna exclaims as she looks back to the scenery behind her, giggling at her reaction we all tell small personal things about ourselves. “And you’re married to Joe, right?” Aaliyah recounts as she tries to remember who’s who. “Yup!” I nodded as she clapped excitedly.

After about 25 minutes the guys walked outside to find us, Joe’s eyes at once landing onto mine before making his way over to the bar where we were sitting. “I missed you.” Joe whispers into my ear as he stands behind me with a beer in his hand, “You having fun?” I turn to face him and notice the faint smell of alcohol. He nods tiredly before wrapping his arms around my shoulder when I turn back around to the girls, “Y/n girl, you should totally come to the mall with us tomorrow!” Charlotte requests as everyone agrees but waits for my response. “Yeah, of course!” I agree as Joe let’s out a low grunt in disapproval that luckily only, I can hear.

[Home 10:06pm]

“You can’t go!” Joe whines drunkenly as we enter the house, “Why not?” I question amused by his childish behavior. Turning off the alarm, I turned around to see him with his arms crossed and sitting on the couch. “Because… I don’t know right now. Ask me again later.” He mumbles as he rubs his face, while laughing I decided to sit beside him. “Want to shower with me?” I ask as his face lights up and he nods before standing, “Just showering.” I warn as his smile drops once, he realizes that I’m not tolerating his funny business.

I follow him to the room before leaving to get undressed in the bathroom, “You need help?” I ask when I hear the door open to the bathroom. “No.” He shakes his head as the most he did was unbutton his shirt, I turn on the shower as he leans on the back of the door. “Help me Y/n! I was lying.” He exclaims as his arms flop down in distress, I laugh as I walk over to help him finish undressing. “Better?” I giggle before turning to get in the shower.

“It’s so warm.” He hums as he gets in behind me, “Here we can switch.” I say as I go to move behind him. “No, stay there.” He holds my hips to prevent me from moving.

----

After the shower, I got ready for bed and luckily the shower helped Joe sober up a bit. “You’re so pretty.” Joe smiled tiredly at me as I brushed my teeth. I grinned at his complement as I finish my task, “Okay let’s go.” I say as I pull him into a hug. His arms wrapping around my waist tightly as he leans down to put his face in between my neck and shoulder, “Do you really need more friends Y/n?” he asked, causing me to burst out laughing. Pulling away from the hug, I go to the room to finally lay down after the long night.

“To be honest, I don’t even think Charlotte was even that cool.” He shrugs after crawling into his side of the bed, I laugh at his attempts to make the girls seem boring. “Hush already.” I say as I cuddle up into his arms, “I’m just saying that maybe, you should go to the mall with me instead.” I can hear the smirk in his words. “You remember the last time we went to the mall and the aftermath- “, “You loved it.” He cut me off before letting out a small chuckle causing his chest to vibrate. “I did.” I smile before turning away from him, so his chest is now pressed against my back.

Joe continues to rant about little stuff as I doze off in his arms, “Seriously Y/n, I really think you shouldn’t go. Don’t you love me?” He plants small kisses onto my neck. “Joesph. You know I love you. Why are you making it such a big deal.” I giggle as his hand holds onto my hip gently.

I turn back around to face him, the low light of the TV hitting his facial features perfectly. “Because… You only met them tonight.” He speaks with a matter-of-fact tone, “The whole point of me going is so we can get to know each other more.” I try to reason as he shakes his head stubbornly.

“Luckily, we know all about each other.” He teases as his hand moves from my hips to my ass, “Go to sleep!” I giggle as he pulls me into his chest.

[harmonyludwig]

Man why most Dark Academia decor ideas are like "get a Roman marble statue" or "put an antique gramophone".

Most of the Dark Academia "fanbase" are students, myself included. So here's a list of actual room decor that won't make you go bankrupt or rob a museum (tho that would be nice), which works for not only Dark, but any Academia:

Books . Pile up your to-read list or your favorite or just good looking ones.

A lamp. Preferably a little antique-ish, something affordable and nice and one that actually works and doesn't take half your desk.

Candles . The easiest. Just normal or scented one. Put them in one place or scatter through the room.

Flowers . Maybe a little Cottagecore-y, but flowers are nice to gaze upon while daydreaming, calms you down and a nice addition to any room.

Something floral but withered . A pressed flower or a branch with dried leaves. Maybe weird, but it's nice and stays longer than flowers.

A thing or two from a second hand or a flea market just for the ✨ aesthetic ✨ (I have a wooden pipe. I don't smoke and don't intend to). Like a candle holder.

Bo - I can't emphasize this enough - xes. Any size and colour, to put anything from notes to books to flowers. I got a nice looking chest and a jewelry box.

An inspiration board. I got a cork board with letters from my friends and some pictures. I also put there things to remember and tips.

Wall decor. May be a glued to the wall music score, a picture in a frame, flowers (again), photos, quotes and pages of books.

Additional shelves (if possible).

Stationery holder. I've got like 8 (I'm not kidding) on my desks for different purposes bc I'm a horder ;)

Posters. Anime, movies, inspiration, nature... Anything. It's your room.

Anything you feel fits there. A skull you found in the woods? Stick it in. Your laptop to work and watch movies on? Make sure it can charge. Your collection of anything? Make that shit visible fam. A photo of your idol or a loved one? Put it on! A poster with a boys band covered in writing? Above the bed it goes!

You may add more.

[fernthewhimsical]

Fern's Nehalennia Deep Dive: pt. 3

Correspondences:

🌊 Animals: Dogs, seals, any sea animals, seagulls 🌊 Crystals/Rocks: Grey moonstone, aquamarine, moonstone, shells, sand dollars, sea urchins, clear quartz 🌊 Flowers/Plants: Seaweed, wheat, apples, apple blossoms, coastal flowers 🌊 Food/Drink: Apples, breads, grapes, pears, fish, salt, fish sauce, wine, fresh water 🌊 Colours: Greys, blues, beiges, whites, golds, bronzes, golden browns, sea greens 🌊 Moon Phases: All, especially full and blue moon 🌊 Festivals: Buddingh ties Nehalennia to a Zeeland's festival called Hanneliesjesdag. A day where the youth of Zeeland would go out and revel. This was celebrated on the first Monday of May, and the first Thursday of November. I personally celebrate Nehalennia at the Autumn Equinox, as well as on the 14th of April, when she resurfaced. 🌊 Magics: Abundance, success in business, protection in travel, sea witchery, mermaid magic, selkie magic, knot magic, when needing guidance, to connect to the land and sea where I come from. Tranquillity and serenity, but also tempest. 🌊 Nature: the sea, apples, wheat, storms, waves, the scent of salt on the breeze 🌊 Other: cornucopia, basket with harvest, front of a ship, canopy shaped like a shell, pereline, anchor, ship’s wheel, Selkies, mermaids, lighthouses, stars for navigation, knots, navigational tools, maps, ships, bow and arrow, Avalon or other magical isles (of the dead) across the sea

How to honour:

🌾 Light a candle, like a lighthouse 🌾 Practice sea witchery or knot magic 🌾 Go to the sea and walk the shore 🌾 Travel by ship 🌾 Tend a garden and harvest 🌾 Go apple picking 🌾 Bake bread or something with apples, pears, or grapes 🌾 Make an offering stone 🌾 Donate to sea or ocean preservation causes 🌾 Pick up litter at the beach 🌾 Go to an aquarium 🌾 Listen to ocean soundscapes 🌾 Walk, feed, or pet a dog

Other Info:

⛵ Nehalennia is the only one to wear her distinct pereline, or short shoulder cloak. No other Goddess has been found who wears it. The significance is not known, perhaps it was a local way of dress. ⛵ There is a rebuild temple in Zeeland on Colijnsplaat. A square roman building painted an earthy orange inside and out. Inside are several historical pieces displayed, as well as a large stone statue that often has offerings in front of it. In "het Archeon", an open air historical re-enactment museum, there is also a small shrine to her, as well as another replica of her temple where they hold daily rituals in her honour. ⛵ The Dutch paganfolk band Heidevolk has a song called Nehalennia, as does the band Twigs and Twine. ⛵ She is the most well known local Goddess of the Netherlands, and many things are named after her: from archaeological magazines to viaducts. ⛵ In 2019 the Dutch contestant of Miss Universe wore a blue dress completely made of trash fished out of the sea. It was called Nehalennia and made in honour of the Goddess.

Prayers:

Deae Nehalennia (in Dutch) In de kolkende golven hoor ik Haar stem. Nehalennia Haar wind speelt door mijn lokken, Haar zilte zegening raakt mijn lippen. Deae Nehalennia. Zij die de storm trotseerd, en sterker er uit voorvloeit Zij die de weg laat zien en onze reis bewaakt Zij wiens woede schepen ten onder doet gaan Zij wiens tedere omhelzing rust en vreugde brengt Vrouwe Nehalennia, Kracht van de Noordzee Hoor mij aan! Want ik ben Uw dochter, Uw gezoute water stroomt door mijn aderen Uw storm raast door mijn lijf Uw kracht en diepte heb ik geërfd Moeder Nehalennia Hart van de Noordzee Wees met mij!

Deae Nehalennia (in English) In the churning waves I hear Her voice. Nehalennia Her wind plays with my locks, Her silten blessing touches my lips. Deae Nehalennia. She who faces the storm and flows from it, stronger She who shows us the way and guards our journey She whose rage causes ships to perish She whose tender embrace brings us peace and joy Lady Nehalennia, Power of the North Sea Hear me! For I am your daughter Your salted water flows through my veins Your storm rages through my body Your strength and dept I inherited Mother Nehalennia Heart of the North Sea Be with me!

Nehalennia chant Stuurvrouw, Oogstmoeder, Vrouwe van de Zee. Ik drijf if uw golven, Draag mij met u mee

Steerswoman, Harvestmom, Lady of the Sea, I float in your waves, Lady, carry me

(to the tune of Horned One, Lover, Son)

[Link to the Masterpost]

[eisforeidolon]

Question: Think back to the first time that you took a road trip unscripted, without your parents, without the school, where were you going, what were you doing, and what happened?

Jensen: I dunno if it was the first time, but I do remember a trip that I took with my buddies. This would have been - we were pretty young, and we rented one of those RVs, the rent-able RVs? Yeah, don't recommend. And packed, like, I dunno, five or six of us in that thing and drove from here all the way to Texas and then up to Arkansas for my buddy's wedding that was happening, and then all the way back through the desert. It was - there were things that probably happened that should not have - certainly illegal. At one point we, it was late at night and people were falling asleep and we were like, 'Hey, that looks like a good field, let's go have a firework war.' We had a whole - we had saw this - stopped along the road there was a fireworks stand, so we bought just way too many fireworks. We pull over to the side of the road, it's night. We send half the guys like fifty yards away and the other half of the guys are on this side. And we started just shooting roman candles at each other and bottle rockets, like, firing them at each other. And then like one of these was like where you shoot it and then it lands, and then it explodes? It was like we were just trying to kill each other for fun. For fun. We had a guy Teen Wolf the top of it? Like driving down the road, he climbed out the, he took off the vent thing and climbed out the hole and was just like [mimes hanging on and waving]. That's not okay. That's -

JDM: That guy was Jensen. Whenever we use the term [finger quotes] that guy? [points to himself, then Jensen, laughing]

Jensen: Asking for a friend. [JDM cracks up]

JDM: I remember my first, I don't know why I remember this so well, but I remember moving to LA and we drove. My friend Billy Burke, who was on that show Fire Country, yeah, and Charlie Swan in the whatever those vampire movies - Twilight, that's it. So he had a hearse.

Jensen: What?

JDM: No joke. He was in a band called Billy Black and something, but you know, he liked dead stuff. And so he drove, that was his car, was a hearse. And we drove this hearse from Seattle to Los Angeles. And - I mean, we didn't have a firework wars, but I think there was people like riding on top of the hearse and shit. But I do remember it really well, and I remember it just because Billy and I both are still standing today and kinda had a career, so yay. That was a good move.

Jensen: Jared and I used to, uh, road trip every year up to Vancouver for the - before we hit the season. So we would, we would - he would hop in his truck and I would hop in mine, and we would take off, you know, a week before filming started. And we'd drive all the way up, you know take the five and take -

JDM: You'd just follow each other? Walkie talkies?

Jensen: Yeah, walkie talkies. Yeah, you know, we'd be cruising along and - what a great way to, you know, bond.

JDM: Hey, let's pull over and have a firework war! [Jensen cracks up]

Jensen: No, it was like, 'I could go for a little beef jerky, some sunflower seeds'. Which is just road trip necessities. And so we did that for, gosh, like several, several seasons. Probably five years in a row we would drive up and then at the end of the season, we would drive our trucks back. And then I think by that time we had just enough coin we could leave our trucks there over the summer -

JDM: There you go.

Jensen: and fly home and have a new car, so.

JDM: That's smart.

Jensen: Yeah yeah yeah.

JDM: It's okay on the way there, on the way home, though, it's like, 'Ohh, this is a long drive'.

Jensen: It's a long drive!

JDM: I need to get home!

Jensen: Well, no, it was just the end of the season, so we were like, "Woohoo leaving it in the dust, been there for nine months, time to get back to life!' But those were -

JDM: Was that from Texas, or when -

Jensen: No, that was when we were in LA. First few years.

[tabinavi]

Song Titles 12-15-24 I always looked at song titles weirdly. They stare back at me in contest, like when a word repeated too much sounds fake (I mean… titles are words). What are you supposed to be? I don't think people double-think about song titles, or even artists themselves, but to me, what makes you decide to name a song? Maybe naming a song is way to finally write off your piece as finished, but artists can come to a name for a song early, and even release/perform unfinished songs with a name. True Love Waits by Radiohead comes to mind when I think of this. A song that had been through many iterations for decades until it's studio release in 2016. I guess the 2001 live recording isn't "really" True Love Waits. Well, obviously it is, but we have the band's approved version now. And if something is remastered, is the "- Remastered" really a part of the name? Is it a different thing entirely? Well, it's not the same mastering, but still the same songs at its core. There are songs that are completely unpronounceable too. Yes DJ, turn up that IV VV IV VV VII! Oh yes, I love ʕ•̫͡•ʔzZZZ1. Are you crazy, man? Ask for some David Guetta like a normal person. (joking!!!!) Then I get to "Untitled" songs. A whole can of snakes there. What constitutes an untitled song? Is it an unfinished product? Is it a lack of creativity at the moment? An artistic choice? Who knows if Interpol's Turn On the Bright Lights opener was supposed to have another name. Can't go back now! Elliott Smith's Roman Candle is littered with "No Name" songs, but it was a released, official album. Jai Paul's bootleg'd tape of course had unnamed tracks when it was pirated, but when it came to the official release, they got new names, but it was the same songs back in 2013. Aphex Twin's SAWII had untitled songs, but fans have given them fan-names that became synonymous with the work. Do we still work with #19, or is "Stone in Focus" easier for us? Are some titles just a battle for us to figure out forever? I think of humans striving to label things how they see fit to comprehend things better. Things like culture, time periods, plants and animals, and the sorts. Music is no different. We have genres, record labels, and obviously song names. Someone can easily attribute "Espresso" to Sabrina Carpenter, but "Untitled"? Who are we talking here; The Cure, D'Angelo, some Snoop Dogg skits? The people can recognize songs better with "proper" titles, but we shouldn't be chained to names. Autechre and Aphex Twin have personality in their titles. "Song 2" is kind of a untitled track, but Blur decided on it, and it's uber-popular. There is still artistry to be found in unconventional names, and you too should think hard about them like me.

[tma-entity-song-poll]

Battle of the Fear Bands B2R4: The Corruption

BlackBoxWarrior:

“A song about a man struggling with his health (be it mental or physical). The song makes the treatment seem inhumane and just as terrifying as the initial problem. It’s almost like he’s getting sicker and sicker but just won’t die.”

Thermodynamic Lawyer:

““Disease is her primary language” - every line of this is filled with rot and disease and bugs and it’s 100% corruption.”

Lyrics below the line!

BlackBoxWarrior - OKULTRA:

Well he collapsed with Stevens-Johnson Syndrome on the E.R. floor Panic attacked, anaphylactic and ataxic The way he spun his butterfly risked all six his phalanges Roman candles at both ends in his synapses And the method with which he recycled his humors Trojan Horse'd his Blood-Brain Barrier and raised the LD-50, yes, yes And through flight-or-fight revelation shame the Black Box Warrior He skipped this town and headed straight down history Shields himself from reason in a Kevlar baby-blue Tuxedo Quilted from the finest fibers, flesh, and fiberglass, and flowers His ego a mosquito, evil incarnate good incognito Pops placebos for libido, screaming, "Bless the torpedoes"

For what? For what? For what it's worth If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down

Well, he was wearing stolen rubber shoes and wrapped a poison ivy noose Around his Lotus jugular when they came Well, they found him with a map to every victim of his love And a tattoo of a blue jay on his face And they waited for his vital signs to lie and let a flatline cry A hymn out in Hungarian Harmonic But he cocked his noggin, through his stoma sang, "For auld lang syne" "Happy birthday to the succulents, I'll die your hydroponics" His rib cage was a hornet's nest, palpitations set the beat His vagus nerve a turk's head knot, an axel hitch, a carrick bend He wondered if Christ Consciousness would charge a cancellation fee Auf wiedersehn, au revoir, he gripped his wits right by their ends

For what? For what? For what it's worth If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down

Hello, welcome, why don't you take a seat? Get comfortable, relax, take a second if you need to Now what's bothering you? Well, why don't we start at the beginning Growing up, how was your relationship with the fundamentals of conscious existence? Did you have xenon orchid sinews spilling down the outer center of your Blooming Escher/Mandelbrot head? And how about claustrophilic tendrils clapping caskets closed on seven-knuckle thumbs Did you get along well with the Gideon Bugler pineal glands? Your projector eyes casting sci-fi's on your STR'd strands? Tell me about your nerve to steal nerves of steel from under Bacchus' bloody nose Did Namibian Himbas tie-dye you, your ears pierced with a Phineas Gage flagpole Did you die before your day? Thursday traction, Tuesday titration My hope is to assess through my objective report of Your subjective conjecture Whether this proprietary bled of expertise and seasoning works as well as this Transorbital ice pick Holistic ballistics, you got a better idea? It's about the best we could come up with, what, you think ideas spread because they're good? No, they spread because people like them So now here we are once again, holding As it were, a mirror up to your mirror I guess it's just something people do

A bloody knife to split your infrastructure, wine to rev your motor function Coital machinations of the dead Well, you mainline your animus, karate chop your abacus And learn to be an animal instead But I never did think you better than this, your modus operandi causes Nazi/Skoptzyism and suicide Why to thine own self be true when it is you who are the problem Not the things you do but something sick inside Lithium and Dialectics, boy you really is defective CBT don't seem effective for that Cluster B, accept it Offer up your innocence, please ignore the side effects You've lost your mind and almost lost your life before So you'll be fine

For what? For what? For what it's worth If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, and why would you want to look back? I mean, it's no good looking back, so try to look forward now For what? For what? For what it's worth If they were going to get you boy, they would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down…

Thermodynamic Lawyer Esq, G.F.D:

(I hold myself in contempt) Tearing the hair off a black baboon's skull Here's a bitch with some four-thousand names Vomiting lies through her theremin throat As some businessmen pick at her brains Pulls back skinny lips to reveal a proboscis Seems Seth Brindle's at it again Tears pages from spines as she judges the cover And shamelessly spoils the end Blood vessels drying and curling inside are Unfurling from out of her wrists Well, she wrings out a snake and collects all its poison Intending to learn it to hiss Foams at the mouth with a head full of acid And giving some poor illness the blame Knocking the pieces the fuck off the chessboard Insisting that she's won the game So all that I see absolute entropy As the chemical bonds fall apart Well, it seems she broke me But I swear she could not break my heart She could not break my heart, oh lord Makes up excuses for throbbing black bruises And uses them to her advantage Never came down from her last trip, oh Jesus Disease is her primary language Garbled and gruesome, her words so absurd Like a herd of transmissions from Apollo 13 No apology, I request misery So no rest 'til I've twisted her chest round my knee So squeal like a trolley wheel, cry like a baby With autism strapped to a ceiling fan Soil your visage with mucus and twisting of features unable to stand Buckle your knees looking up at me And beg me to spare thee the back of my hand For the sake of humanity, die of your blight We're blessed, you're barren as Mojave sands So all that I see absolute entropy As the chemical bonds fall apart Well, it seems she broke me But I swear she could not break my heart, whoa Now all that I see absolute entropy As the chemical bonds fall apart Well, it seems she broke me But I swear, she can go fucking die (kill yourself) You can go fucking die (kill yourself) Go fucking die (kill yourself) Kill yourself and go die

[luniviravosshipper]

TDP Inspired Songs

So, uh, hi.

Ever since season 6 came out, I’ve been working on several playlists inspired by TDP. And I just have some songs I really, really want to share with the fandom because I feel like they perfectly represent certain characters, relationships, and themes in the series. And I would absolutely make animatics with these songs if I could, but I haven’t picked up a pencil to draw in like 5 years. So I’m just going to share them here today.

I used to listen to this band quite a bit when I first was figuring out my taste in music, so I’ve known this song for a long time. And to my surprise, when it was revealed that Aaravos had a daughter who he lost, I found this song to be incredibly fitting for his experience of grief over her loss.

I can’t go into all the lyrics for any of these songs and how they’re fitting because that would make this post far too long, but I can’t think of another song that perfectly encapsulates them as this song. Like, it’s just them. This is what I think Aaravos’ grief feels like.

It’s literally titled two coffins, and while in the song it’s referring to the idea that they’ll both die in the end regardless, I can’t help but to connect to the fact that Aaravos had to spend his days rotting away imprisoned in her literal corpse and in a way they were both laying in the same sort of tomb, and just, ugh, this song is so perfect for them.

Please give the song a listen. It’s a sad but beautiful song and just reminds me so much of them.

Now I’m sure more people have probably heard of Elliot Smith, so maybe this song might be more familiar to some.

I definitely imagine this song being told from Aaravos’ perspective where his rage is directed towards Sol Regem or Anak Arow for being the one to cause the pain and death of Leola. And, like, just the whole fire motif representing rage and Aaravos mirroring the rage Sol Regem so often hypocritically expresses towards others back towards him, it works so well. And just the raw emotion sung in this song. I think the lyrics are so applicable towards what happened and Aaravos’ feelings regarding Sol Regem.

So, I started a playlist inspired by Viren and his “redemption arc” the second the last season released. I don’t remember what specifically, but I remember searching up for songs with certain meanings and saw this suggested so I added this song by random because I thought it was kind of fitting. Then I actually gave it a listen and was blown away by how the lyrics perfectly aligned with his arc.

I don’t know what else to say, but this is just Viren’s song. Like, that’s it. It is his song.

Take a listen, pay close attention to the lyrics and how they’re sung. At the very least on a literal sense, I think the lyrics represent the entirety of his arc up to his very death so well.

Alright, last one.

This one’s kind of an odd one because it isn’t really based on anything canon from the series and merely speculation.

But I’ve always had this song in mind whenever the disappearance of Luna Tenebris came up in the series because I always speculated that it was actually Kim’dael who took her life, not Aaravos (or at least he only orchestrated her death from afar).

I don’t know how fitting this song will turn out after what we learn in season 7, but I’ve always imagined this song retelling some sort of conversation Kim’dael and Luna Tenebris had leading up to her demise where Luna confronts her about Kim’dael’s greed for immortality.

But, yeah. This song is probably more suitable for an idea of an amv or animatic rather then something I think we can connect back to what’s actually canon in the series… But I’m just throwing it out there anyways. Just in case, you know, anyone wants to do anything with it.

But that’s all. I might post the actual playlists I’ve come up with soon, or later. We’ll just have to see.

[proteandisruptor]

hiiiiii can i get a moodboard or playlist for kieren 😁

HI KIEREN! I’ll give you both because yr a sweetheart

King Harvest (The Band)

I Feel the Earth Move (Carole King)

Echo in Your Mind (Susan Christie)

Roman Candle (Elliott Smith)

Easy (Bedouine)

Ne Me Quitte Pas (Nina Simone)

[homoirrealis]

Technicolor curiosity of an age long gone

It is 2013. AM is about to play Marathon Music in Nashville. He gets to speak to Skip and Timshel Matheny (band Roman Candle) about AM, songwriting, and the alcoholic poison of choice in a podcast...

Apart from thoroughly enjoying an insightful conversation between musicians, a few things jumped at me and hit me like a freight train...

[Around 14:04-15:00]

I love the colour of them shows, 60s Batman - technicolor thing...

If I can make a song to sound like a Joker's layer... 

Way to expect the producer of that TV show to live - Goody architecture, John Lautner thing... 

I’d love drums to sound how that looks.

Would you like us to unpack this 1 minute? Because when I heard it my brain couldn't stop running...

"If I can make a song to sound like a Joker's layer" and "I’d love drums to sound how that looks." should be added to The Hall of Fame for "Alex Turner most likely has synesthesia"

In 2013 talking about 60s Batman and how much he liked it to then in 2018, bring... Batphone and Batmobile in TBHC mv... in technicolor... wearing 60s gear... Don't even get me started about Batman/Mile Kane references - you can read it here

3. "Way to expect the producer of that TV show to live - Goody architecture, John Lautner thing... " - we heard that in 2022, didn't we? Thinking and imagining the live of not only the characters conjured, the creator/producer too... here He seems to be referencing that the author is in his characters and visa versa... and the last one - "Goody architecture, John Lautner thing." Again, folks, it is 2013 - the hype of AM is in full bloom... And we hear those names again in 2018 during the TBHC promo. "Turner began by drawing a hexagon, to reflect the band's sixth studio album, eventually drawing influence from architects Eero Saarinen and John Lautner, becoming "quite consumed" by the process.[7]  The artwork was initially inspired by a photograph depicting the set for a Lunar Hilton hotel being built for 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968). THE WAY THIS MAN'S BRAIN WORK! How many more interviews or songs will make even more sense in the future, once he will make some of his ideas come true? In here, Alex says, "The idea that George Lucas had already planned [Star Wars] in the ‘70s, a triple trilogy, spread out over several years, really speaks to me." How many moves has he already planned?

[dustedmagazine]

Ed Schrader’s Music Beat — Orchestra Hits (Upset the Rhythm)

Photo by Goopcat

Ed Schrader’s Music Beat has come a long way since we last crossed paths on the 2012 debut Jazz Mind, an altogether more punk and percussive outing that first paired Ed Schrader with the bassist Devlin Rice. “Even now, even on record, there’s a strong whiff of performance art to what Schrader does, the live spectacle implied in whomping, ritual rhythms and a shout-sung delivery that is as much poetry slam as punk rock,” wrote a much younger Jennifer Kelly for Dusted that year.  Three other records have come in the intervening years—Party Jail in 2014, Riddles in 2018 and Nightclub Dreaming in 2022—along with a growing suavity and new wave lounge-i-ness. 

With Nightclub Dreaming and now Orchestra Hits, Schrader has settled into languid romanticism with a baritone croon that might remind you—a little—of Bryan Ferry at his most sex positive. You can also hear echoes of new wave bands. “Into the Knotted Tree”’s urgent rhythms and trebly twinkles, all slathered over with smooth-ness, sounds a bit like The Thompson Twins. “Waterfront” grooves in an ominous, dystopic way that makes me think of the Fixx. But go ahead, pick your own late-1980s, early 1990s synth obsessions—New Order, Depeche Mode, Kakagoojou—Schrader’s Music Beat resonates with the whole darkwave period.

Is that a slam? Not at all. Orchestra Hits are sleek and sensual, prickling with glitchy synth tones and seething with pheromones on the prowl. “I Turn the Ocean Blue” looses agitated howls that are, nonetheless, perfectly styled and coifed. “She won’t…. she won’t return,” cries Schrader and it’s like Future Islands at a rave.  “Roman Candle” pulses with dance-floor hedonism, aches with post-bender regrets. It’s hard to tell if these songs celebrate youth and beauty or mourn it from a remove; there’s a bit of both in every track.

And indeed, that combination of surface and undercurrent, rave-up and desolation, dance beat and aria, is what makes Orchestra Hits so compelling.  There’s never been a shortage of “everybody party now” songs, nor can an honest person deny their appeal. But “everybody party cos we’re all gonna die” has always felt infinitely more compelling. Ed Schrader’s Music Beat drinks champagne on the edge of a precipice, tossing the bottle down and waiting to hear it shatter.

Jennifer Kelly

[queenofcandynsoda]

Festival of Midsummer/Mars Sol Day/Day of Red Peonies

The Festival of Midsummer, also known as Mars Sol Day or Day of Red Peonies, is the celebration of the Summer Solstice in Sol Fertilis. It is celebrated with a variety of outdoor activities and festivities. Citizens flock to parks and amusement parks, enjoying picnics, games, and parties throughout the day. The night sky is illuminated with vibrant fireworks displays. 

Neo-Pagan families would start their day with a small breakfast and prayer in their home shrines. In Catholic counties, the day begins with a special Midsummer Mass held at churches, which includes readings and hymns that emphasize themes of light, growth, and renewal, celebrating both the natural world and spiritual blessings. In the evening, a special prayer service is held at the church, where families light candles to symbolize the light of Christ and the spiritual illumination of their lives. This service includes singing hymns, reciting prayers, and offering thanks for the season's blessings.

There would be a festival in the counties’ parks from late morning to early evening. There would be many games, food stands, and concerts with songs that either consist of pro-Sol Fertilian messages or about Mars Sol’s life, battles, fertility, and legends. Some people would attend amusement parks, often those outside major counties such as Olympia, Arcadia, Murata, etc. 

As the sun begins to set, both Catholic and Neo-Pagan counties in Sol Fertilis transition into festive evening gatherings with special meals and community activities. 

In the Neo-Roman Pagan counties, a special ceremony occurs in the local temple. The event begins with a Gamma Plus Lar performing a traditional dance on the ground, symbolizing fertility and abundance. Following this, an Alpha priest invites their Omega spouse to join them in a dance, embodying the powerful and passionate relationship between Mars Sol and his wife, Venus Bellona. This ritual emphasizes the themes of love, energy, and vitality that characterize the summer season.

In some counties, the holiday continues further into the night. Lower-rank citizens and some tourists gather in communal spaces, such as Noctiscaenas, Cervobarnums, and Viriditabernas, to socialize, play games, and enjoy each other's company. Live bands or DJs play music, and impromptu dance parties often break out.

Games

Chariot Races: Alpha children race small, wheeled chariots or carts, often pulled by other children, usually Deltas, mimicking the famous races of ancient Rome.

Javelin Throw: Using safe, lightweight spears, children compete to see who can throw their javelin the farthest.

Foot Races: Inspired by the ancient Olympic games, children run in sprint and long-distance races.

Discus Throw: Children throw discs, resembling the ancient discus, aiming for distance and accuracy.

Hoop Rolling (Trochus): Children roll large hoops with sticks, a popular ancient Greek game.

Kottabos: A tossing game where children try to throw small discs or stones into a target container, reminiscent of an ancient Greek drinking game adapted for kids.

Tug of War: Known as "Helkystinda" in ancient Greece, teams of children pull on opposite ends of a rope in a test of strength.

Capture the Flag: Teams try to capture each other’s flags while defending their own, echoing ancient strategies and teamwork.

Roman Ball Games (Harpastum): A team game where children try to keep a small ball away from the opposing team, similar to rugby or soccer.

Greek and Roman Mythology Role Play: Children dress up as mythological figures and act out famous myths, encouraging creativity and historical learning.

Foods

Breakfast:

Panis Quadratus: A type of Roman bread often served with honey, cheese, or olives.

Porridge/Puls: A hearty, grain-based porridge with dried fruits and nuts. This is primarily eaten by the lower ranks.

Fresh Fruits: Seasonal fruits like figs, grapes, and berries.

Yogurt with Honey: Greek-style yogurt drizzled with honey and topped with nuts.

Lunch:

Lentil Soup/Pottage: A thick, nutritious soup made with lentils, vegetables, and herbs.

Cold Cuts: Slices of roasted meats like chicken, lamb, or pork, served cold.

Salad/Moretum: A mix of greens, herbs, cheese, and garlic, dressed with olive oil and vinegar. 

Flatbreads: Served with a variety of dips like hummus, tzatziki, and olive tapenade.

Festival Snacks:

Roasted Chickpeas: Lightly spiced and roasted for a crunchy snack.

Stuffed Dates: Dates filled with nuts, cheese, or honey.

Cheese and Olive Platters: Assorted cheeses and olives served with bread.

Baklava Bites: Small pieces of baklava, a sweet pastry made with layers of filo dough, honey, and nuts.

Spiced Nuts: A mix of almonds, walnuts, and pistachios, seasoned with cinnamon and cloves.

Fruit Skewers: Fresh fruit pieces like melon, grapes, and berries on skewers.

Dinner:

Roast Lamb: Lamb seasoned with garlic, rosemary, and lemon, slow-roasted until tender.

Grilled Fish: Whole fish seasoned with herbs and lemon, grilled to perfection.

Vegetable Stew: A hearty mix of vegetables like eggplant, zucchini, tomatoes, and peppers, cooked in a savory broth.

Orzo Salad: Orzo pasta with fresh vegetables, feta cheese, olives, and a light vinaigrette.

Garlic Bread: Freshly baked bread brushed with garlic and olive oil.

Dessert:

Honey Cakes/Melopita: A Greek honey cake made with ricotta or myzithra cheese.

Pistachio Pastries: Pastries filled with pistachio paste and drizzled with honey.

Fruit Tarts: Small tarts filled with custard and topped with fresh berries and figs.

Almond Cookies/Amigthalota: Soft almond cookies flavored with honey and orange blossom water.