This is from a while ago, I just put an ending to it. Please excuse any Italian mistakes, I didn't want to bother anyone for translations and I'm very much open to corrections
In case you're interested @morvith @fruityculture <3
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“Eva,” he starts.
“Taci!” she snaps back, because she knows that tone, she knows that lilt he puts to her name and knows intimately how it undoes her.
She already feels sufficiently unmade.
She’s a feral, restless thing, insides in turmoil, swirling, desperate and furious. Red like his blood, hot like the phantom feeling in the tips of her fingers when she had to dig into his flesh, unyielding like the metal of the bullet she found inside.
She wonders if she’ll ever manage to get rid of the blood under her nails.
They dig into his thigh now, pulling on his hair to avoid sliding on the slickness. He grunts when she pulls harder and she strangles the reaction that wants to surface inside her at the sound.
“Tieni la pelle unita," she instructs him. "Devo preparare l'ago.”
He obeys without a word and she wants to snipe something about now following her instructions. She doesn't, because she can't let go of her tightly held restraint now or it'll all go to waste.
On the outside she's the picture of composure. Her hands are steady as she pulls the needle and thread, takes an antiseptic swipe and gets to cleaning the bleeding wound. Her forehead creases in concentration and she doesn't have a hair out of place.
She's fully aware he can read her like a book.
Still, her love can be stupid sometimes. Especially when it comes to her.
"Cara," he tries again.
“Ti ho detto di stare zitto,” she echoes herself. “Non abbiamo il tempo per le tue parole, dobbiamo andare prima che Ginko ci trovi."
She’s brusque and digs in the needle right with her last word.
He’s smart enough to keep quiet this time as she continues to work.
He got lucky. Very lucky that the bullet grazed him and didn’t hit any arteries.
His thigh is warm and thick under her hands, soft hairs in well familiar patterns, now matted with blood. The muscle gives in under her hands, proof of his ironclad control over his body that he keeps the muscle relaxed despite the pain. It’s proof that he’s alive, that he’s here with her. Not dead in some sewer. Not captured and jailed under Ginko’s calculating gaze.
She’s aware in a way that borders on painful that the real source of her inner turmoil is fear. It is cold, deep set, bone-reaching terror.
They’re here, in this dreadful hotel room, ruining already dirty sheets because he came too close and escaped only thanks to luck.
And they’re here in this town because she read months ago that there was a vintage jewellery auction planned. Because she said she liked them and he had to get them for her.
She didn’t need them, and she told him so. She likes jewels, loves them even (they’re alike in that sense) but she only ever needed him.
Silence reigns as she tends to him. A sharp eyebrow gets him to accept the mask she's extending towards him and a gentler touch gets him to put on some clothes.
They don't say a word as they leave the hotel, Diabolik follows her lead for once without complaining.
It takes her three attempts to finally manage to leave the city without crossing or being stopped by any police. Once the road extends beyond them, getting lost between the gentle hills, she finally breathes deeply.
Next to her he's straight backed and stiff, eyes ahead and not a single twitch of his muscles that betray the pain he's in.
She sets her mouth and pushes the accelerator, her hands shift and tighten on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white.
Siamo salvi, siamo salvi, she repeats to herself.
"Eva," Diabolik breaks the silence. Her nails are digging into her own palms.
"No."
"Mi dispiace," he rushes out, before she can tell him to shut up. Against her will, her eyes find his face. Harsh features softened, pale eyes reflecting like mother-of-pearl, strong brows bowed in a pleading question. "Avevi ragione." The corner of his mouth quirks. "Come sempre."
She huffs and turns back to the road ahead. It's easier to hold on to her anger when she isn't looking at him. She can hold on to the anger and all its valid reasons and cover the fear underneath.
Her body betrays her, they always do when it comes to each other. The pull between them is inexplicable, it goes beyond reason and beyond words.
Her spine loses some of it steel, the flatness of her mouth softens, her thigh relaxes under his hand when he reaches out and lays it there. His thumb traces circles over her dress and she finally releases the deathgrip on the steering wheel to grab it. Thick palm and dexterous fingers cradled in her perfect manicure underlined with his blood. She brings it to her lips and kisses it, forehead wrinkling as her eyes burn.
The skin is warm and soft like always. He's alive, he's still with her, they made it.
"Parleremo al refugio," she mutters, a promise, an order and a threat.
He chuckles and sags in his seat so she knows he understood.
The open road lays ahead of them, rolling hills and sweeping valleys, the next safe heaven just around the corner.
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For the concert asks: 13 and 24?
Ahh, thanks so much for asking, JoAnne! :'D
13. Have you ever had a backstage pass?
Um, hmmm...no? Well, wait, maybe...okay, well, there was that time where I had a VIP package/meet-and-greet and got to meet Ann and Nancy Wilson of Heart (as much as I love this question, I unfortunately don't feel like rewriting it because I've already written about that experience!), and then, well, right before the pandemic, because I was a member of Thunderpussy's fanclub, "Club Pussy," through their app, my best friend and I got to go to The Showbox before the concert started and we got to meet 3/4 members of Thunderpussy! It was kind of endearing because the first member we talked to was the drummer, Lindsey Elias, and after we chatted briefly and she moved on, my best friend leaned toward me and said something to the effect of, "Okay, so...who was that?" and I was like *facepalm* "That was the drummer!!" and they were like "Oh shit, really? I had no idea. Oops." (They admitted to me then they weren't so great at remembering musicians' names and putting those names to faces.) So after that, I pointed out the other members and told my friend their names so they'd know and be prepared...and then when I finally got the chance to talk with my favorite member of Thunderpussy I was the unprepared one (she started talking to me pretty much as soon as I put a chip in my mouth, sigh 😞). But anyway...that was their little pre-New Year's Eve concert party that they offered to fanclub members if we gave them our name and anyone who'd be joining us, which is how we got in once we got there. So technically there wasn't any backstage pass involved, and we didn't get to meet them in any more of an intimate capacity than in the bar area of the venue before the show, but that was totally fine with me (although it was kind of awkward since I don't drink, and Thunderpussy weren't going to not drink but, meh, it was still fine). I don't need to meet my favorite bands, anyway, but when I have the fortunate opportunity to do so, I don't care if it's meeting them in the venue bar area or before a show for a brief meet-and-greet or at their merch table* or what - if the experience ends up being good (which, in the case of Heart and Thunderpussy, it was!!), I'll be grateful for even 30 seconds of their time to get to tell them how meaningful their music is. :')
24. Who is an artist you think everyone should experience live at least one?
Heeheehee, I was hoping someone would ask me this one! :D I'm gonna go with The Black Tones, first and foremost! They may be mostly known locally, but they deserve to be known by such a wider audience - their shows are SO MUCH FUCKING FUN EVERY SINGLE TIME! And I've seen them live 3 times now, and while during the third (and most reccent) time that I saw them I got the impression that they're afraid to bore their local fanbase, I would like to say right now that their shows could never be boring, which is why I'm happy to see them live again every time I possibly can! Everyone needs to see their live shows at least once (but then they'll probably want to see them more than once!). :'D
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We have ARTISTS and ENTRIES for semi 1 & 2!!!
(list below cut)
Semi 1
Victor Crone – Diamonds (Writers: David Lindgren Zacharias, Peter Kvint, Victor Crone)
Rejhan – Haunted (Writers: Albin Johnsén, Mattias Andréasson, Pontus Söderman, Tilde RONIA Wrigsell)
Loulou Lamotte – Inga sorger (Writers: Jonas Thander, Loulou Lamotte)
Eva Rydberg & Ewa Roos – Länge leve livet (Writers: Emil Vaker, Henric Pierroff, Kalle Rydberg)
Elov & Beny – Raggen går (Writers: Johan Werner, Kristian Wejshag, Mattias Elovsson, Oscar Kilenius, Tim Larsson)
Tone Sekelius – Rythm of my show (Writers: Anderz Wrethov, Dino Medanhodzic, Jimmy "Joker" Thörnfeldt, Tone Sekelius)
Jon Henrik Fjällgren, Arc North feat. Adam Woods – Where You Are (Sávečan) (Writers: Arc North, Calle Hellberg, Jon Henrik Fjällgren, Joy Deb, Oliver Belvelin, Richard Lästh, Tobias Lundgren, William Segerdahl)
Semi 2
Wiktoria – All my life (Where have you been) (Writers: Herman Gardarfve, Melanie Wehbe, Patrik Jean, Wiktoria Johansson)
Eden – Comfortable (Writers: Benjamin Rosenbohm, Eden Alm, Emil Adler Lei, Julie Aagaard)
Uje Brandelius – Grytan (Writer: Uje Brandelius)
Theoz – Mer av dig (Writers: Axel Schylström, Jakob Redtzer, Peter Boström, Thomas G:son)
Maria Sur – Never give up (Writers: Anderz Wrethov, Laurell Barker)
Tennessee Tears – Now I know (Writers: Anderz Wrethov, Jonas Hermansson, Thomas Stengaard, Tilda Feuk)
Panetoz – On My Way (Writers: Anders Wigelius, Daniel Nzinga, Jimmy Jansson, Nebeyu Baheru, Njol Badjie, Pa Modou Badjie, Robert Norberg)
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