#even capo the old man
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troolyart Ā· 5 days ago
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Da bizzy-est of bois!
Wanted to get a feel for their characters and the way they look before putting them in situations lmao. I love them all dearly šŸ„ŗšŸ©µ
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artuurle Ā· 19 days ago
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I don't have a silly cheeky comment for this one besides it leans heavily on my headcanons and stuff on Grujaja. (that's how you know ur in the tranches for a character.)
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^face of a guy that keeps hurtin his bonds w anyone close to him. Bonus doodles i made while drawing this that are semi related due to being tied to my Gr headcanons unda the cut lol:
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tankgotstuckinthecircusgate Ā· 11 months ago
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late Carlo and Moretti (during vinci-moretti war) are like Luca and Clemente to me. Moretti will never raise his hand on Carlo but! will he drive him into guilt in ways that are not direct? insult him in passing? convince Carlo that he's doing everything wrong, when in fact it's the opposite? of course such a painful kick to Carlo's ego, it's unfair, he doesn't deserve it. and it's not a father-son relationship, it's a professional relationship and he can't say anything back & defense himself in any way maybe Moretti's more favorable to Eddie in this period because he's more blindly loyal and Carlo feels he's about to explode
#^ i wrote it before that hounds thing but its about all this anger was once love etc#carlo who is a capo who has done so many terrible things for this place watching how eddie gets bonus points for blind loyalty: šŸ˜#and it's not even that he's a capo it's that carlo says the right things but moretti dismisses him every time#also okšŸ˜¬šŸ˜¬šŸ˜¬my truth! is that eddie really was against killing moretti at first#and when he finally decides to support carlo well. is it just a change of master? (yes)#m2#moretti family#and!#as far as i understand Moretti's murder took place just a few days before his victory? fucked up thing#i mean. it just makes Carlo an even shitty man. he chose himself over the majority#(i can't think about any war theme on a physical level at this point so. i have only abstract thoughts on this)#but objectively: moretti family may have gained control of the vinci family's territory of influence etc#instead they got a young crazy don. and everyone was alright w it (?!makes me think for what reason)#which is why i think there's been something wrong with Moretti in his last yrs. he looks much older thank frank n leo#for now he's just an old man stubbornly clinging to power to me. but not to say that i worked on his character much#i think he became weaker hypochondriacal and paranoid towards the end. ā€œi saw his hands tremblingā€ carlo bout moretti etc#ā€œakela missed his kill!ā€ and the young wolves tore him apart#ewwwwwwwwwww no Carlo who sees Moretti growing weaker and instinctively his teeth are bared more and more ewww#kill the weak and old so the young can survivešŸ˜¬šŸ˜¬ (fucked up thing is that they aren't animals they would survive w moretti in charge)#spoiled hounds parallel makes things so much complicated tbh. but it feels right
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vibiano Ā· 2 months ago
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My #epic bizzyboy gender headcanons
Capo: He/him. Cis guy with a touch of deeply repressed nonbinary swagger. Like your chainsmoker bisexual uncle who tells you everyone is a little transgender and youll grow to repress it like everyone else.
Vib: He/She. Bigender in a "10% woman, 19% man, 79% Pretty" way. Identifies more with being a feminine man. If you ask her if hes on HRT she will wink mysteriously and not answer. Will get bottom surgery vagina-style. Has the vibes of your divorced swinger aunt with a thick new jersey accent and always keeps candy in her leopard print jacket (she wears it everywhere, including to grandmas funeral)
Al: He/him -> he/it. Trans guy in a vaugley creatureish way. Absolutely has a patchy trans guy mustache. Owns The "suns out guns out" tanktop, which he pairs with a jacket without irony. The guy in your highschool who was constantly always slapping the doorframe like if he didnt a bomb implanted in his neck would explode. Needs adderall but thats unrelated
Gr: He/dgaf -> They/he/it -> it/whatever. Nonbinary guy who doesn't want to be perceived. Identifies STRONGLY with the humble hermit crab. If pressed its ideal gender goal would be a shadow or some sort of void. The type of guy to join a discord server and never speak a single word.
Patty: He/him -> She/her, trans girl. My beloved sweetie darling angel. Shes still figuring her stuff out but she gets gender envy from storybook fairies and their flower petal dresses. I think she should go on a tour of the whole world<3 Shes like if a girl was a dog who slipped its leash and was running with reckless abanon into the woods after a rabbit. We need to invent estrogen in the form of gummy candies for her specifically
I FORGOT BAN!!! IM SORRY BAN
Ban: he/him, cis-ish. If you ask him to eleborate he'll just wave his hand and smugly quote an old movie. Dresses like old hollywood directors he idolizes. Wears pearls. Annoying ass guy in your film class who at least isnt THE most annoying guy in the class, even though its close. Insists on the ~vintage feel~ of filming on tape.
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sirenologyyy Ā· 1 year ago
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MODERN ATWOW BAND HEADCANONS !
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āœ¹ summary : in which i'm slowly crawling back to my avatar hyperfixation and i decided to make a band au!except I'm right (or not take this with a grain of salt hehe) and I frl can't see them playing any other roles
āœ¹ author's note : let this not flop in eywa we pray šŸ™ and yes, Daisy Jones and the Six is my favorite book, how did you guess?
āœ¹ warnings : mentions of bleeding, scabs, swearing obv
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It all started one balmy afternoon when Lo'ak and Spider were blowing off their biochemistry homework lying down on the floor staring at the cieling fan undeviatingly oscillate above them. Then, Lo'ak suddenly sits up from his spot causing Spider to look at him.
"What's up?" Asked Spider.
Lo'ak looks at him, a newfound determination in his wide eyes. "Dude, what if we start a band."
Spider frowns. "A band?"
"No, but hear me out for a second." says Lo'ak bristling in his spot as Spider sits up.
Although wary, Spider hums. "Alright."
"Think about it, school's almost over, we barely know anybody in this town, are we seriously gunna hangout in the beach all summer trying to make friends?"
Spider chuckles. "I think I'm missing the point where that's a bad idea."
"Spider, come on bro- look at us, we're losers alright? We're practically throwaway fish to the kids at school- but if we start a band, who knows how many people'll wanna be a part of it, we'll score a couple of life long friends AND it'll be our one solid excuse not to be at home" Lo'ak's riposte was proving to make sense, with a toothy smile to cap it off, but of course Spider- considering he was two years Lo'ak's senior had to pop his bubble with the pragmatic pin of reality.
"I don't know dude, it sounds kinda lame." Spider replies hesitantly, propping himself up by his elbows. "We've been trying to start a band since 7th grade, we always end up calling it quits on the 3rd week."
"This time it'll be different."
Spider scoffs. "Uh-huh? How "
Lo'ak nudges his right shoulder upwards. "We'll ask Neteyam to help."
Spider shoots him yet another look. "If he doesn't want to help?"
"We make do," Lo'ak shrugs. "What's wrong with a two man band?"
"Almost everything." Spider snorts.
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ā˜… lo'ak ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ electric guitar
when they used to live back in high camp, he found an old silvertone in their attic that used to belong to jake during his marine days along with scores of 70's rock bands' songs on yellowing paper fraying at the edges and folds.
He spent 3 months learning a song with 4 chords by ear and performed it at the school talent show
When he got into 6th grade he did not only beg, for an electric guitar he GROVELED. He suddenly wanted to do all the chores in the house, he suddenly got C's instead of D's in tests, it was terrifying because who the hell WAS this and what did they do to the real Lo'ak???
Jake and Neytiri didn't give him one until he was 13. Jake just picked him up from school one day and all of a sudden just asked: you wanna get that electric guitar?
LO'AK WAS OVER THE GODDAMN MOON.
got a classic red stratocaster.
The first song he ever learned to play on the guitar was buddy holly by weezer...
Come on you guys what were you expecting
likes picking at his finger scabs and does it until neteyam or tsireya tells him off.
has multiple guitar picks but always uses this specific one he made into a necklace and wears it everywhere.
THEN PROCEEDS TO LOSE SAID GUITAR PICKS
tuk keeps hiding them around the house waiting for lo'ak to lose his mind.
he can play any song by ear, just watch.
plays around with riffs more often than not.
ā˜… neteyam ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ back up vocalist / lyricist
never even wanted to join the band but was bullied into joining (kiri joined when he said he wouldn't just to spite him)
has perfect pitch (are we surprised though)
YOU'D SNEEZE AND BITCH ASS CAN FIGURE OUT WHAT NOTE IT'S AT.
uses it to nitpick Lo'ak when he's straying from the original pitch.
lo'ak will then threaten to cave his face in with his capo.
his favorite artists are frank ocean and kendrick lamar.
no one in his entire school woulda guessed he could sing. Nobody.
was made to sing in family events... (iykyk)
loves musicals. his favorite's Hamilton...
Jake and Neytiri took him to see Hamilton once in New York when he was 11, he's never been the same since.
HAS MAJOR FUCKING STAGE FRIGHT I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH. HE WILL NOT GO ON STAGE UNTIL YOU SMACK HIM IN THE HEAD SO HARD HIS BRAIN RESETS AND SUDDENLY HAS THE BALLS TO FACE THE AUDIENCE.
Once he's out there though he totally changes, he gets more confident, when he's really feeling it then his braids start flying everywhere... it's becoming an issue really, he might take someone's eye out with how solid his hair beads are...
hurled his guts out one time before they had to perform at the end of year school fair.
ā˜… kiri ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ pianist
there are always four types of gays. English Teacher Gays, Art Teacher Gays, History Teacher Gays, and Music Teacher Gays.
Kiri was definitely the last one.
lo'ak got her a shirt that says "key master" with her face horribly photoshopped onto the keys of a piano.
she burned it the night she got it.
til this day lo'ak never knew what happened to it.
Suki Waterhouse as Karen Sirko in the DJATS live action? Brain chemistry = altered
Stevie Nick's and Lindsey Buckingham's performance of Silver Spring in Fleetwood Mac's Reunion concern in 1997? = Roman Empire.
was in the school choir and would play the piano in their choir director's stead.
has been playing the piano for 9 years but always gets confused when asked to play a flat or a sharp (it takes her 4 tries to figure out where C minor is)
her favorite piece to play is over the waves by juventino rosas.
when she wants to show jake a new piece she's been working on, by the first minute he's out like a fucking light. SHE'S JUST THAT GOOD.
also when she wants to play a piece with too many chords she never wanted to play it in the first place.
once she messes up she's definitely one of those people who spams the keys.
one time when she was playing a piece her fingers cramped mid-song and she freaked out.
ā˜… spider ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ drums
his dad's military friends taught him how to play the drums.
lo'ak dared him he couldn't do a drumroll for an hour.
spider did it in two and a half but stopped cuz he got hungry LMAO.
impresses kiri with various drumstick spins, it dosen't impress her.
practically worshipped that one vine of those two kids.
was definitely one of those kids that played with overturned pots and pans and pretended it was a drum set (it annoyed the hell outta norm)
once lost his drum sticks and used chopsticks (ps. they weren't the same)
scribbled their band logo on his bass drum and was very proud of it.
INSISTED they would call themselves "the seven skxawngs"
nobody listened to him.
when they held auditions for their drummer he went "You guys know I can play the drums right?"
has never watched whiplash.
uploads drum covers on his tiktok account with 70 followers.
makes dumb jokes if the others can't figure out a certain chord or note he'd go "guys maybe it's at H!"
the most chillest person in the band though frl.
somehow always manages to pull??? The amount of game this man has solely just because he's the drummer is wild.
they once performed at an event with 50 people and Spider was wearing addidas slides the entire time and nobody noticed.
ā˜… tsireya ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ main vocals/lyricist
When I tell you this kid can SING SHE CAN SING.
frl the real life ariel I swear evrrytime she opens her mouth everyone's wishing on her downfall because she's such a talented singer, her vibratro is so measured, her runs are so clean, she's just so UGHHHH.
is such a theatre kid oh Lord.
was made to sing at family events too (it's practically a canon event atp guys.)
has a special journal where she writes her song lyrics that she takes with her everywhere (give her 5 minutes and she can write a song with just her hand as paper and eyeliner as a pen.)
joined in singing competitions when she was a kid and when she was 10 joined a televised singing competition and managed to make it to the semi-finals.
it's why she's the lead singer of the band anyway.
she always has pearls threaded into her hair every time they perform and it's been her signature look ever since.
her voice is fucking angelic ya'll istg.
is a soprano. enough said.
is amazing at reading sheet music.
she and neteyam wrote 3 original songs that the band performs everytime they get a gig.
aside from singing she can play piano and violin too.
she's a fucking wordsmith too like she's so eloquent and knows all these big words and she's good at expressing her pent up emotions through songwriting.
the literal it girl. Everyone in their band gained more popularity ever since they opened for a popular band from L.A. but everyone in their high-school knows her name. Everyone.
her vocal control is amazing.
she really knows how to liven up a crowd.
ā˜… aonung ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ rhythm guitar
has been playing guitar since he was 7.
took up guitaring because his dad introduced him and tsireya to playing instruments at a young age.
collects guitar straps.
neteyam's always on his ass about if what he's playing sounds right or not (50% of the time he's not)
it isn't practice without neteyam and aonung almost throwing hands at least thrice.
almost always smokes while practicing.
oddly enough only has one guitar pick and he hasn't lost it yet unlike lo'ak who buys new guitar picks every other month.
obsessed with black nailpolish, you won't see him go on stage without black nails istg.
he didn't even audition for the band. He was just always there at the Sully residence to pick Tsireya up from practice until one day Tsireya told him to come inside the house, when he did he finds out they needed someone for rhythm guitar and that Tsireya let it slip that Aonung knew how to play.
he's been a part of the band ever since.
he's just incredibly good with his fingers, enough said.
after the first time they performed their first gig at some girl's house party, he, rotxo, and lo'ak got high on the rooftop of Aonung's house (yk until Lo'ak slipped and started dangling from the gutters and fell into the pool)
his outfits always eat every time they perform.
james hetfield the goat.
always experimenting with new riffs and runs and adds them to the songs mid-performance and without any warning (just to piss neteyam off)
ā˜… rotxo ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ā”€ bass guitar
the glue and heart of the band frl.
the sweetest basist you'll ever meet.
his family actually owns a popular guitar shop in Awa'atlu, he first started playing the guitar at the ripe age of 5.
Bro is a prodigy but dosen't want to admit it.
aonung bought his first guitar at rotxo's family's shop, they hit it off ever since.
Always brings his baked goods to practices (then kiri devours the entire tray when you aren't looking)
actually fucked up his audition for the band but then Lo'ak found him sobbing in a janitors closet and gave him a second shot at an audition with just Lo'ak and Spider and he was able to redeem himself.
(really only auditioned cuz he played bass, they were finding a bassist, and not because kiri sully was their pianist)
is an introvert but he's so fucking funny that you wouldn't suspect it.
can perform riffs in his sleep (no he actually does though it freaks aonung out when he spends the night in his place.)
kiri made him a resin guitar pick with fragments of coral from the beach when they had their first date.
has a "maturing is realizing bass is the superior instrument" tshirt.
one time wore finger condoms so his scabs wouldn't re-open and bleed all over his guitar šŸ˜”
loves playing deftones on the bass.
has chronic "guitar face"
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chicoca Ā· 1 year ago
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Did you know that i have your heart in the garden?
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Chapter one: amore mio aiutami /ao3
song: amore mio aiutamiā€“piero piccioni
Warnings: Use of a degrading word
Words: 5.5k
Nina De Rosa -Daughter of Don Tommasino De Rosa and Valentina Parisi. Little sister of Simone, Florentino, and Calogero. -Born December 27, 1925 in Corleone, Sicily. You are an artist moderately recognized in Sicily. Since you were a child your poems and paintings have been praised by your family. Your mother, a writer with an anonymous signature, has instilled art in you. Being the only daughter of the Don, you have been spoiled and supported in all your passions.  You meet Michael (Michele) Corleone in the winter of 1946. He is welcomed and protected by your father after murdering two men in The United States.
Read masterlist for summary and playlist <3
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The little snowflakes danced in the air in front of his eyes. His tensed body, his hand still feeling heavy, and the pain in his face kept him fatigued. The travel had made his mind a nest of noise. The sound of the wind, the sea, the voices, and the constant click clack. For a moment he thought he lost himself there. Thatā€™s how he felt after everything. So rushed, in the darkness of his boarding, only a man with a scar on his right cheek kept him company. His name was Emmanuele, a Don Tommasinoā€™s capo, the man in charge of taking him to Sicily. They didnā€™t talk much, only what was necessary until they reached the small private airport run by ā€œThe Familiesā€.
Similar to New York. Sicily was controlled by four main families; Quintana from Corleone; Indelicato from Palermo; Pentangeli from Partinico; and De Rosa from Bagheriaā€“Corleone. Three of them were close to the Corleone family, mainly due to the alliances made by Vito. However, with Don Tommasino De Rosa the friendship was much deeper. Vito, a man of great values, always maintained his devotion to his friend, who helped him in his revenge and gave him and his family shelter in his homeland.
Michael must have been five years old when he met you for the first time. He wouldnā€™t remember you. You were just a baby in your motherā€™s arms, recently baptized. With your pompous dress and your blessed head, they named you goddaughter of Vito. At the celebration the children played, the adults drank and chatted pleasantly, and Michael remained silent near his father. You were close, you babbled charming your aunts, and you squeezed your godfatherā€™s finger in your fist causing him to smile. 
It was the only time you crossed paths, like two complete strangers who never thought about each other again. Until that winter, when Michaelā€™s life began to change in a way he thought he could escape. Ambitions were left behind, because Sicily received him with the cold filling his entire body. The only thing he could think about was home, about returning, even though he knew it would be impossible. Now in solitude he refrained from letting himself be carried away by fatal thoughts. He concentrated on being rational, on getting to Don Tommasinoā€™s house and finally resting a little bit. 
Emmanuele took him in a car along uphill roads, entering a city of ancient architecture that immediately caught his attention. So different from his home, it caused a knot in his chest that he ignored in the face of the wonderful views. Snow covered the cobbled roofs of the houses, it made a small path on the side of the street covering the grass. Going uphill, Emmanuele told him that they would enter through the forest where Don Tommasinoā€™s house was located in a wide rural villa. Michael stuck his head out the window admiring the cold green vegetation. He could see the small booths with armed men. They continued until they reached a guarded gate, upon recognizing Emmanuele the men opened it, revealing a big house. Michael didnā€™t show how amazed he was by the place. With a large garden that disappeared into a stone path at the back, the house was in the center of a captivating nature.
They got out of the car, where some soldiers approached to take out the little luggage that Michael was able to bring with him. Sally had little time to gather a couple of shirts, a pair of pants, and a belt. Still, he was grateful to have his coat in the face of the weather he encountered. He could feel the humidity of the plants sticking to his skin along with the snow that fell lightly on his hair. Fortunately he didnā€™t have to wait too long for the front door to open, inviting a homely warmth that he followed behind Emmanuele.
Inside a captivating melody sounds like a warm welcome that calmed his body a little. The entrance had a large room with a fountain in the center and a large staircase that leads to the second floor. Behind it a window looked out onto the back garden where he could see a table and a couple of people. From the hallway to the left, where the music was coming from, a man with a cane appears who smiles openly at him, extending his arm to wrap him in a side hug. Michael could feel the light squeeze of his hand against his back, feeling his weight fall gently on him. With two pats he separated to grab his shoulder.
ā€œMichele! You have grown so much, boy. Let me look at that faceā€¦ Iā€™ll call Taza, you need to treat thatā€ He gestured, moving his open palm pointing at his face. Emmanuele at his side just looked at them ā€œIā€™m very sorry about your father. I wish him my best blessings. He will recover soonā€ Michael smiled at his words.
ā€œDon Tommasino, I thank you very much for receiving meā€¦ Molto grato (Iā€™m very thankful)ā€.
Don Tommasino hugged him by the shoulders, leaning lightly on him, and made him walk to the back to exit through a door that led to a terrace. There the wide views showed part of the city from above, although everything was covered by vegetation.
ā€œI appreciate your words Michele. Because of the great friendship that I share with your father I give you shelterā€¦ Una casa (A house) You will be protected, Michele. I have sworn to your family thatā€ Michael sat in one of the chairs, under the roof unlike the soldiers that guarded the place. Don Tommasino sat next to him ā€œI like winter, you will like this place in the coldā€.
Michael only thought about the summer and how at that moment he would be home again. He already missed everything. He felt the tingle of a sadness that penetrated his soul. At the same time, fatigue did not allow him to feel anything other than an emptiness. As if he was incapable of feeling. 
ā€œMi piace lā€™estate (I like summer)ā€ He said.
ā€œAmerai lā€™estate. Anche se immagino che speri di tornare per allora (You will love summer, although I suppose you hope to return by then)ā€ Michael nodded, sighing lightly.
ā€œMy italianā€¦ Il mio italiano non ĆØ cosĆ­ buono (My italian isnā€™t so good)ā€ Don Tommasino laughed a little and patted him on the knee.
ā€œDonā€™t worry about it, they will understand you. But you could practice itā€ Michael nodded again.
ā€œMichele I recommend you use another name hereā€ Said Don Tommasino
ā€œI could use Andolini, my fatherā€™s enemies donā€™t know his last nameā€.
ā€œMaybe itā€™s risky, but it works. We have a lot of Andolinis hereā€ Don Tommasino assured
Suddenly, he noticed three men approaching from the side of the house. Don Tommasino quickly stood up to receive them. Two of them were armed with luparas and were wearing light jackets. Something unsuitable for the cold, thought Michael.
ā€œBenvenuto Michele (Welcome Michael) Iā€™m Armando Fusco, consigliere of Don Tommasino, a pleasureā€ The man shook his hand in greeting and continued to introduce the two men who accompanied him ā€œThese are Fabrizio and Calo, your bodyguards assigned from Emmanuel. They are loyal to the family, so feel comfortableā€ Emmanuel at his side nodded before his men.
Fabrizio smiled broadly at him and squeezed his hand in a cheerful greeting.
ā€œAmerica, Americaā€¦ Quanto ĆØ bello lƬ, eh? (How nice itā€™s there, eh?)ā€ Calo, next to him, laughed at his friend and sat in front of Michael. Getting a little snow on his head, he didnā€™t seem to care.
ā€œVuole essere portato in America, ĆØ il suo sogno (He wants to be taken to America, itā€™s his dream)ā€ Calo said towards Michael.
ā€œThese men have the job of protecting you. Donā€™t hesitate to ask them anythingā€ Don Tommasino said, leaning on his cane, Michael could notice how one of his legs was tilting loosely ā€œNow letā€™s eat something. Armando, please tell Calogero that I want to see himā€ With that, Michael got up to follow him into the house.
Following his pace, since Don Tommasino walked slowly, Michael held his hands behind his back and admired the place again. Noticing his observant gaze, Don Tommasino spoke.
ā€œThey shot me in the legs, kidā€ He pointed his cane at his shin ā€œI saw you look at me, it causes curiosityā€¦ Always observant, Michele. You were like that too when you came here years ago, remember?ā€ Michael nodded, matching his steps. They were walking towards the hallway where the music was still playing ā€œYou were very little, always near your fatherā€.
His thoughts inevitably turned to his father, still having the image of his body in the hospital bed. He felt that if he concentrated enough he could feel the skin of his fatherā€™s forehead  under his palm, in the caress he granted him when he promised to take care of him. He can still see the small tear that ran down his cheek when he had to leave him. The wave of sudden worry filled him for a second, barely letting him breathe. Without contact, he only had his own hopes as consolation.
ā€œAmore mio, amore mio. Ilā€¦ boy, Michele, ĆØ giĆ  arrivato? (My love, my love. Has the boyā€¦ arrived yet?)ā€ A feminine voice called from the kitchen, where the aroma distracted Michael enough to notice his hunger. 
Inside, the warm lighting opened the way to a large kitchen with a dining room included. At least ten people were able to sit comfortably at the table. All made of varnished wood. The kitchen had a lot of furniture and a counter that gave views outside. The woman, Don Tommasinoā€™s wife, Michael assumed, approached, wiping her hands on her apron.
ā€œMichele, my wife Valentinaā€ Don Tommasino presented, making a gesture so that they would greet each other. Michael accepted the small hug and the kiss on the cheek. Suddenly she looked at him with concern.
ā€œIā€™m sorry, Michele. Being raised in America, you wonā€™t be used to itā€ She said in a slow english that Michael patiently understood.
ā€œMy father has raised me close to our culture. Siamo italiani, non pensare di offendermi (We are italians, donā€™t think it offends me)ā€ Michael said quickly, the woman nodded.
ā€œI have lunch ready. Meat well cooked the way my husband likes it. Take a seat, Micheleā€¦ Our sons will be arriving soon, Tomyā€ Valentina moved to the kitchen to start preparing.
Don Tommasino sat at the head of the table and motioned for Michael to sit nearby, to his left. Michael sat comfortably, crossing one of his legs and leaning back.
ā€œWhere is Nina? She wonā€™t have lunch with us?ā€ Don Tommasino asked, thinking you would be in the house by now.
ā€œSheā€™s in town with Carolina, theyā€™re buying shoesā€ Valentina responded with a shrug as she tossed the salad on the counter ā€œShe will probably eat with herā€ She said in english, as a courtesy so that Michael would understand.
ā€œWhen she arrives let me know. I want to talk to herā€.
Michael didnā€™t pay much attention to the conversation. He got lost in the foodā€™s aroma and in his numb body. The only thing that brought him out of his little state was the voice of people approaching. In front of him three men, one in a police uniform and two in civilian clothes, entered, greeting the couple effusively.
ā€œMama! Che profumo delizioso (Mom! What a delicious aroma)ā€ ā€œDelizioso, ho fome, Mama! (Delicious, Iā€™m hungry, Mom!)ā€ ā€œPapa, come va il freddo con quella gamba? (Dad, howā€™s the cold with that leg?)ā€ 
The men greeted their mother with a kiss, hugging her affectionately. One of them, the older, came up to greet his father and then looked at Michael shaking his hand.
ā€œSimone De Rosaā€¦ You the guy from La America?ā€ Michael nodded ā€œGood, good, I know some english so donā€™t worryā€.
ā€œParlo anche un poā€™ italiano (I speak a little italian)ā€ Michael responded, aware of the other men approaching to greet him. Behind them Valentina brought the dishes.
ā€œIā€™m Florencio. How was the arrival, eh?ā€ Said the shorter one of them. The uniformed man also presented himself ā€œCalogeroā€ He said, shaking Michaelā€™s hand after his brother.
ā€œThese are my boys, Michele. My daughter isnā€™t here, unfortunately, you will meet her laterā€.
ā€œThat girl Nina, tsk, tsk, tskā€ Simone clicked his tongue ā€œSheā€™s been so busy these days. Iā€™ve barely seen herā€ He complained while receiving his plate. Michael also received his, noticing how the brothers quickly began to eat.
ā€œYou have to understand her. With everything she has to do, we will see her very littleā€ Said Valentina while sitting to the right of his husband.
ā€œYour sister is doing something that none of you would doā€ Don Tommasino said as he poured the wine. Michael asked for just a little.
ā€œWe canā€™t do it, we are menā€ Said Calogero causing a disapproving look from his mother.
ā€œWe will not talk about your sister at the table. What she does she will discuss it with your father. Enjoy your food, you were hungryā€ She said, indicating with her fork.
ā€œWellā€¦ Michele, tell us about Americaā€ Florencio seemed interested in Simoneā€™s request.
ā€œBetter ask him something specific, boyā€ Said Don Tommasino while drinking his wine. Michael observed them with attention while eating.
ā€œCome sono le donne? (How are the women?)ā€ Asked Calogero causing laughter among his brothers ā€œScommetto che sono piccoli, magri, come nei film (I bet they are small, skinny, like in the pictures)ā€ ā€œBelli, sono belli! (Beautiful, they are beautiful!)ā€ The brothers seemed to talk to each other without addressing Michael. 
ā€œNon potrei dirtelo (I couldnā€™t tell you)ā€ That caught their attention, Michael continued eating.
ā€œNon puĆ²? Cosa non puĆ²? ĆØ un finocchio? (Canā€™t? What canā€™t? Is he a faggot?)ā€ Calogero said jokingly to Simone. However, his brother looked at him seriously and then looked at his father.
Michael didnā€™t feel offended about it. Understanding the manā€™s mentality he simply wiped himself with a napkin in silence. Don Tommasino, on the other hand, felt deep shame at his sonā€™s behavior. Valentina blushed with the same shame and looked at her husband expectantly.
ā€œExcuse my son, Michele. He is usually rude, something that embarrasses me. Please ignore his wordsā€¦ Calogero, weā€™ll talk laterā€ With a passive tone of voice but with a hard gaze he continued to reprimand his son.
ā€œDonā€™t worry. I have a brother just the sameā€¦ I donā€™t have any comments about women, because itā€™s not an interesting conversation for me. They will be beautiful, for sure, as there will be many in other placesā€ His monotone tone and expressionless look didnā€™t give Calogero room to make another comment. 
Florencio, accustomed to his brotherā€™s slips, drank wine and after swallowing he spoke.
ā€œOld Frankie, how is he? Still under Clemenza I must assumeā€ Michael tilted his head in interest.
ā€œYeah. Frankie, Frankie. We are good friends of Vincenzo. It has been a long time since we heard from him in La Americaā€ Simone said, taking the salad to serve himself in big portions.
ā€œYes, he continues under Clemenza, dedicated to the familyā€ Don Tommasino clinked his glass with Michaelā€™s and then raised it.
ā€œFor the family and the dedicationā€¦ I want to make something clear to you three. Michele is my protĆ©gĆ©, he is under our care until he can return safely to America. I know you know but Iā€™ll repeat myself. I want total discretion, only those close to us can be aware of his presence. No one else will be told his name or anything about what is happening in New Yorkā€ The brothers nodded at their fatherā€™s words.
ā€œWhat about Quintana?ā€ Asked Florencio.
ā€œWhat about them?ā€ Asked Don Tommasino.
ā€œOur bond isnā€™t strong yet. The war is over but the tension continues. If they find out about Michele they can use it against usā€ Simone replied.
ā€œThey arenā€™t friends of the Corleones. They never wanted to establish any tiesā€ Calogero added.
ā€œDonā€™t worry about them. They wonā€™t be a problem. Leandro as underboss will have the privilege of stopping anything. He knows whatā€™s best for himā€ Don Tommasino said as he finished his plate ā€œNow letā€™s give Michele some space. Love, can you ask Emilda to take him to his room? I need to go to my office, Calogero come with meā€.
Don Tommasino slowly left the dining room accompanied by his son. His two eldest sons got up and said they would go outside. Valentina called Emilda and picked up the plates while Michael wiped his nose with a napkin.
Emilda appeared and kindly took him to the second floor where his room was, at the end of the hallway with a perfect view of the stream and the garden. His luggage was already on his bed, and after thanking Emilda he closed the door. 
Finally alone. The first thing he did was take off his coat, leaving him in his dress shirt and trousers. Having the need to bathe, he went to the bathroom connected to the room. There was a long bathtub, long enough for him to lie down without any problems. He slowly took off his clothes, leaving himself completely naked. Waiting for the tub to fill with water, he went to look in the mirror where he noticed his paleness and deep circles under his eyes. But what caught the attention was his injury.  
His skin was covered in a purple hue. The swelling on his jaw had gone down a little but it was still painful. In the night he felt it more, the pressure on his head when lying down made the pain intense. It provoked a rage that dissipated quickly when he remembered that McClusky was dead. A feeling of resentment that was only calmed by his committed revenge. He almost thinks about his father but stops as he presses his fingers against his broken jaw. He didnā€™t like how he looked even though he had seen several men who arrived in Sicily had injuries 
The pain was a sensation already learned, almost purifying. The war hadnā€™t made him a stronger or wiser man. Sharing with men who died at his side didnā€™t make him more sensitive. It was fear that still disturbs his mind when he remembers the pain. And it isnā€™t a physical pain, itā€™s a pain of the soul, as if his heart were going to shrink until it disappeared. It was fear that made him learn. And now, with the latent pain on his face, he could only ask God that nothing would happen to his family. He would pray for it until he returns, he knows it when he sees that his injury would take too long to abandon him.
Noticing that the tub is already full, he slowly gets into it, covering his body in the warm water. He immediately feels his muscles relax against the surface, almost feeling like heā€™s sinking. Letting himself go, he takes a deep breath to submerge his head under water. Stretching his legs and using force with his hands to keep him from floating, he stays down holding his breath. Itā€™s almost cathartic. 
He holds on until he canā€™t take it anymore, getting out of the water quickly, overflowing the tub and wetting the floor. He runs his hands over his face without noticing that he is crying. He sinks again, and repeats that over and over again until his body becomes limp. Then he just looks at the ceiling without thinking about anything, letting everything happen until he almost falls asleep in the cold water. If it wasnā€™t for the soft touch of the door he would have fallen asleep lying there.
ā€œSignor, Don Tommasino vorrebbe parlarle (Mr. Don Tommasino would like to speak to you)ā€ Emildaā€™s voice wakes him up enough to sit in the tub.
ā€œAndrĆ² presto Emilda, grazie mille (Iā€™ll go soon Emilda, thank you very much)ā€ He heard her footsteps go away, he waited until he felt the silence to get up.
He couldnā€™t feel the passage of time, or even register his body temperature. The only thing he did was dry off and change into the few clothes he brought, and went downstairs to go to Don Tommasinoā€™s office.
The office was very different compared to his fatherā€™s office. Where it was dark there, here was a large window that showed trees in the background. There was Emmanuele, Armando Fusco, Simone, Florencio, Calogero and other man Michael hadn't meet yet.
ā€œI hope you had a good rest Michele. Come in, sit downā€ He closed the door behind him and sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Behind Don Tommasino was the unknown man, staring at him with such intensity that Michael couldnā€™t help but look back at him ā€œAndrea smettila di disturbare Michele (Andre stop bothering Michael)... Donā€™t mind him. He just arrived and heā€™s very paranoid. Perfect for the job, eh?ā€ The men laughed and Michael could tell that there wasnā€™t tension in the room. That made him feel more comfortable.
ā€œYou liked your room, Michele?ā€ Don Tommasino asked. Michael nodded. 
ā€œAnisette?ā€ asked Armando while pouring the cloudy liquid in small glasses. Michael accepted the glass and drank it along with everyone else.
ā€œWell Michael, I called you because I want to tell you what a couple of things will be like here. We usually go to different areas of Sicily, meetings and things like that to maintain ties. Most of the time you will stay in the house with Fabrizio and Calo, but you can also go out to Palermo, once a week, you just have to not be identifiable. When Iā€™m not here my men will be. Also my wife and daughter are always here too. The family visits us sometimes so you can meet them, if you donā€™t mindā€ Michael interrupted.
ā€œOf course notā€ That made him smile.
ā€œYou are a good boy, Michele. Now letā€™s go out, it wasnā€™t that serious if you thought it wasā€ Michael denied with his head while getting up.
ā€œHey! Papa! Are you in your office?ā€ A female voice could be heard from outside, your voice.
ā€œMy beloved Nina, letā€™s go out so I can talk to herā€ He said as he walked with his cane towards the door. Michael could hear how you greeted each other in the hallway, your voices slowly drifting away behind the door.
Inside the men finished their drinks and got up to leave. Andrea, right hand of Don Tommasino and one of the capos, shook his hand in a firm squeeze that was intended to intimidate him. Michael appreciated the gesture, assuming that Don Tommasinoā€™s safety was the manā€™s priority, he thought that this loyalty would be useful in the future.
When he left the office he noticed that the brothers De Rosa were still talking while they walked to the garden. Behind him Andrea told him to follow them because Don Tommasino loved sitting on his terrace, even if it was cold. As he moved forward he could hear your melodious voice, and like a song, he felt almost trapped in the curiosity of knowing what you were saying.
ā€œ... No, no papa, guarda. Oggi sono arrivati gli inviti, dobbiamo mandarli domani. Mi sto organizzando benissimo, credimi. Fidati e basta, andrĆ  tutto bene (... No, no dad, look. The invitations arrived today, we have to send them tomorrow. Iā€™m organizing this very well, believe me. You just trust me, it will be fine)ā€.
ā€œMa la mia vita, non sarĆ  presto? (But, my life, wonā€™t it be soon?)ā€.
ā€œAy papa, sta andando tutto bene, non preoccuparti (Ah dad, everything is going well, donā€™t worry)ā€.
ā€œSƬ papa, la ragazza sa quello che fa (Yes dad, the girl knows what sheā€™s doing)ā€.
As he approached he noticed your back. Your figure covered by a long dark coat. He could only appreciate your dark hair and the movement of your hands. In front of you Don Tommasino looked at you attentively, with his eyebrows furrowed despite your words. Your brothers around you also listened but only Simone gave his opinion. Before Michael could make any gesture to indicate his presence, Andrea spoke.
ā€œSignorina De Rosa, buon pomeriggio (Miss De Rosa, good afternoon)ā€ That made you turn around.
If somebody asked Michael how silence is caused, he would have to answer that the body can only be immobilized with an overwhelming emotion. He could feel it in the impact of your eyes. But what a beautiful view that Sicilian winter brought. With cheeks flushed from the cold and eyelashes with little snowflakes. He didnā€™t know if it was just because you were beautiful or he had definitely gotten lost in your gaze. The tired body already forgotten was left behind the beating heart that deafened him. 
Michael found himself standing with his heart beating faster than normal. He felt dazed and the blood boiled in his body. He could intensely perceive everything. He felt like he was in another world. He was struck by lightning. Don Tommasino, looking straight at Michael, could notice it, but he remained silent. The well-known lightning attack.
For you, the first time was a blast of warmth. Because of the open door and his presence, the light that illuminated his bruised face reflected a unique shine in his eyes. And what eyes! A deep brown that caught you like a careless prey. Youā€™ve never seen eyes like those. So full of a story that you wanted to discover, an innate need to know everything that captivates you.
The silence was broken when you noticed that he brought his hand to his nose. Due to the blow, his sinuses were damaged. You knew that because your brother suffered the same thing due to a fight. Taking a handkerchief out of your coat, you approached him and offered it to him. A pale pink fabric with delicate embroidery that carries your perfume. Michael looked at the handkerchief and slowly accepted it, pressing it to his nose, immediately feeling the sweet aroma. 
ā€œCiao Andrea. Sei Michele? Da New York? (Hi Andrea. Are you Michael? From New York?)ā€ You asked, taking a step back, slightly losing the feeling of his closeness.
ā€œYes Nina, heā€™s Michael. Michael, my daughter Ninaā€ Don Tommasino said, in the background your brothers talked.
ā€œBuon pomeriggio, Ninaā€¦ Grazie per il fazzoletto, ioā€¦ I will return it to you after washing it (Good afternoon, Ninaā€¦ Thanks for the handkerchief, Iā€¦)ā€ Michael spoke english not knowing how to continue in italian. You smiled and with a gesture you denied.
ā€œDonā€™t worry. I have moreā€ You replied, he didnā€™t push it.
Still in awe of his eyes, you couldnā€™t help but take in everything, as if he were going to unexpectedly leave your sight. Michael wasnā€™t far behind, even with your handkerchief pressing against his nose, more because of your perfume than his rhinorrhoea, he looked at your face trying to engrave it in his memory. 
ā€œWell, I hope you like poetry Micheleā€¦ Nina keep him company, Armando has a couple of things to discuss with meā€ Said Don Tommasino as he saw how his consigliere waved his hand from inside the house.
For a man with a cane he moves around quite a bit, Michael thought. Now with a bit of confusion in his eyes, he took a seat waiting for you to do the same. You, instead, watched your father walk until he disappeared on the way to his office. With your brothers talking to a couple of your fatherā€™s workers, you noticed that Michael was waiting for you. With a little shyness you sat in front of him, and remembered your fatherā€™s words.
ā€œWhat about poetry?ā€ He asked you.
ā€œOh! Iā€™m a poet and a classical literature teacher. Heā€™s quite proud of it, thatā€™s allā€ Michael noticed how you squeezed your hands and rubbed them.
ā€œPoet, how interesting. How do you write it?ā€ You didnā€™t know if he was really interested in talking about it, but like any other enthusiastic person, when you had the chance to talk about what you love the most, you couldnā€™t contain yourself.
ā€œI couldnā€™t explain it. It's just. Mmmā€¦ It flows from me, you know? You donā€™t have something like that?ā€ You asked.
ā€œSomething like that?ā€ He took a moment before continuing ā€œI donā€™t think so, what emanates from me doesnā€™t cause any artā€ That intrigued you.
ā€œAnd what emanates from you?ā€ If he could answer honestly he would. But he saw a very pure curiosity in your eyes.
ā€œSome thingsā€ He said, looking away from you to admire the garden. The snow was no longer falling, however, the place was still covered in white. 
ā€œYou are quite a mysterious man, donā€™t you think?ā€ You said with a smile that almost caused him to imitate you, but he remained expressionless.
ā€œI donā€™t think so. You are an artist, thoughā€¦ā€ You looked at him inquisitively ā€œYou are more likely to share your thoughtsā€.
ā€œThat 's true. I have always been a transparent womanā€.
ā€œJust like your brotherā€ He said, looking at Calogero.
ā€œOh, you already met him, eh? Donā€™t mind him, heā€™s always had a sharp tongue, always getting in troubleā€ You pointed at Michaelā€™s jaw ā€œSomeone broke his jaw one time, for insulting a Quintanaā€.
ā€œWhat did he say to deserve that?ā€ He asked, leaning against the chair, looking comfortable in his clothes. 
ā€œHe said some things about Don Quintanaā€™s daughter, may she rest in peace. It was very unpleasant. My mother slapped him when he arrivedā€ Michael nodded. Your brother looked like the kind of man who made those mistakes.
ā€œIs he a lieutenant?ā€ You quickly denied at his question.
ā€œHe is a carabiniere. He likes to be one, he always wears his uniformā€ You both looked at him from a distance. Calogero was adjusting his sleeves while laughing at something Florencio said ā€œAre you a lieutenant?ā€ Michael looked at you again.
ā€œIā€™m a marineā€ You raised your eyebrows at his response.
ā€œYou went to war? For America?ā€ You asked, resting your chin in your knuckles. Michael lowered his head a little.
ā€œYesā€.
ā€œYour father supported that?ā€ You noticed how his gaze intensified.
ā€œNo, he didnā€™t like the idea very much. But he couldnā€™t do anything against it, not at firstā€ You wanted to ask him more, so you didnā€™t stop. Now feeling more comfortable you relaxed your posture.
ā€œHe did thoughā€ You assumed ā€œYou have medals?ā€.
ā€œYes, I have someā€ His calm voice contrasted with your animated one. 
From the outside it seemed that only you were paying attention. But Michael, from his passivity, was completely focused on you.
ā€œDid you leave them in America? Iā€™ve never seen one. Why do you have them?ā€ You almost thought he was getting bored of your questions, but he smiled as if he remembered something good.
ā€œExtreme bravery beyond the call of dutyā€ The tingle of remembered adrenaline kept his smile on his face.
ā€œSo that emanates from youā€¦ Are you an altruist?ā€ Michael thought deeply about your question, before he could answer you talked again ā€œI know what you did in New Yorkā€.
ā€œDo you? And what does that answer to you?ā€ He asked, wanting to know what you would say.
ā€œI think you areā€¦ Many men kill in the name of their Don, even sons kill for their parents. But one thing is to kill and another thing is to accept what death entails. You are here, very far from home. And when I look at you I know that this isnā€™t what you would want. Thatā€™s why I think you areā€ Michael took your words in and nodded slowly, he didnā€™t think the same.
ā€œAnd youā€™re perceptive, I guessā€ That made you smirk a little.
ā€œI usually observe everything, it helps with writingā€.
ā€œWhat else helps you?ā€.
ā€œI have a place, a special one. It's outside, passing that fence, see?ā€ You pointed where the stream disappeared between the trees ā€œThere I write and read, I go when itā€™s not so coldā€.
ā€œWhy that place?ā€ It encouraged you that he asked you so many questions. 
ā€œItā€™s beautiful, itā€™s like itā€™s from another world. Sometimes, when the sun goes down, the leaves create some rays that reflect in the water. When I look at that I get inspiredā€ You brought your hands to your chest, squeezing your palms. Oh you wished it were summer.
ā€œI-...ā€ Michael was suddenly interrupted by a voice calling your name. He could notice your eyes changed in the way your eyelids moved.
Recognizing that voice you stood up awaiting his presence. From the side your brother Simone appeared with a tall man in a fitted and expensive suit. Michael saw how he approached you, taking your hand to give it a soft kiss.
ā€œMichele, this is Leandro Quintana, my fianceā€ The only thing Michael could notice was how you didnā€™t look him in the eyes again.
CHAPTER TWO
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darkficsyouneveraskedfor Ā· 2 years ago
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Happy Couple 7
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
I make no promise and am just following a whim.
Summary: Your father makes a deal to marry you to his top capo. (mob au)
Warnings: dark elements such a mob business and intimidation, spanking, threats., choking. More to be added as they become relevant. You know what I write typically so you know what to expect.
Thank you all for the encouragement and I hope you enjoy.ā¤ļø
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Bucky keeps you close as you slip your hand free of the biting leather and hiss. He fists your hair in hand and yanks your head back, swaying you with him tauntingly. The strength you cloud see before in his thick fingers and the bulge of his neck is now firm against you. You feel it coursing through him, taut in the belt wound around your neck.
You bat your last, still clawing at the buckle with one hand as your other presses to the chest of his jacket You stand on tip toes as he snickers and draws the leather even tighter. You cough and choke in shock.
ā€œBuckyā€¦ā€ you rasp, ā€œpleaseā€“ā€
ā€œShhh, baby, Iā€™m just having some fun,ā€ he keeps your hand clamped in his hand, ā€œyou got such a pretty neck. I always liked that about you. Could always see my hands around it. You think it fits them perfect, huh?ā€
You whimper and snatch your hand away from your neck, wheezing as you slip your hands under his jacket, feeling the satin of his shirt and the hard muscles beneath. For a man his age, he should be proud. You canā€™t help but feel how finely corded his flesh is.
ā€œBucky,ā€ you gulp out again and let a hand crawl up his collar, grazing his neck and the soft trim along his chin, ā€œplā€“ā€ you touch his jaw and frame the square angle, ā€œdaddy.ā€
He tilts his head at the last word and the belt slackens, just slightly. Your eyes blur with the rise of tears throttled from you. You shakily pet his cheek and push yourself against him. Your heart hammers with adrenaline and fear. Heā€™s a dangerous man but you were raised by a dangerous man.
ā€œS-sorry, Iā€™m sorry,ā€ you croak, ā€œplease, daddyā€“ā€
ā€œDonā€™t you start that game with me,ā€ he warns as he leans in, hot breath fanning over you, ā€œI know what you are, sweetheart, a spoiled little brat.ā€
You pout and let your other hand trail down from his chest, feeling along the buttons of his shirt and slipping lower. You cup him through his pants and arch your feet higher. You slide your hand around the back of his head, tugging on his grip behind yours.
ā€œYou talk a big game, old man,ā€ you taunt.
ā€œDo I? Cause Iā€™m pretty sure youā€™re holding onto that big game.ā€
You squeeze him, the rigid bulge in his pants twitching as you do. You trace up his zipper and push it down slowly, exhaling as you hover your lips before his. His nose touches yours as heā€™s lured in by the heat of your gaze. 
You pinch the front of his pants, unhooking his fly with two fingers and tease along the top of his briefs. You feel his stomach clench as your lips curl and you press them to his. He purrs in surprise and the belt loosens further.
His tongue meets yours in an impassioned swirl, hungry, insatiable, searching for more. You hum around him as you turn him towards the bed. He retreats slowly, hanging on lightly to the tail of the belt as you push your hand past the elastic. You grip his veiny length and he parts you grunt at the ceiling.
ā€œFuck, sweetheart, who knew a bit of tough love would get you so worked up?ā€ He puffs.
You urge him back and he lets you shove him down onto the foot of the mattress. He bounces as you follow him, tugged by the leather still looped around you. You climb onto his lap and swallow the chatter in your teeth. Youā€™ve pretended with men before, theyā€™re all a bit more boring without their clothes on.
You straddle him and push him down onto his back, bending over him as you crush your mouth against his again. You pump him easily, long strokes that have him shuddering. You nibble his lower lip as you grind your hips against him, closing your grip until he groans. 
His hands come up to frame your waist as he pushes his chest out and digs his thumbs into you.
ā€œTell me what you want from me, daddy?ā€ You taunt, ā€œmy mouthā€¦ā€ you lick his cheek, ā€œor maybe you just want me to play with you a little.ā€ You run your hand up and down again, ā€œoh, I donā€™t mind that,ā€ your hand crawls down to fondle his sack, ā€œyou like that?ā€
ā€œFuck,ā€ his hands fall to your ass and he kneads.
You lean into his ear, his beard brushing against you coarsely. You giggle and nuzzle him as you whisper, ā€œyou forget that you took my panties, daddy?ā€
He snarls as he gropes you, his hand crawling down to feel beneath your ass. He tickles your exposed cunt and you gasp. You push yourself up as you grab his dick again, pumping him to his tip as you watch the lewd motion beneath his briefs. You pull him above the fabric and bite your lip.
ā€œOh, daddy, you really are a monster,ā€ you trill, ā€œthink I can take it all.ā€ You pinch his bases and wiggle his dick before you, comparing it to your pelvis, ā€œyouā€™re gonna break me in half. Arenā€™t you?ā€
ā€œOh, fuck, princess, you know Iā€“ā€
Your grip forms a vice around him and your other fist collides with his adamā€™s apple as it bobs. He coughs and his body constricts as you let go and roll off of him. Youā€™re quick to swipe up the end of the belt as you spin to your feet and twist around. You barrel towards the door and swing it open as you hear him sputtering. 
ā€œFuck!ā€ He rasps as you race into the hall, ā€œcatch her!ā€
You dodge the man to your left and continue on, holding onto the belt to keep it from snagging. You get to the stairs and slide to a halt as another man appears at the top. You huff and lift the belt over your head. You pull it taut around your hand and flail it, snapping it towards the man.
ā€œGet the fuck outta my way,ā€ you demand, ā€œhow dare you? This is my daddyā€™s houseā€“ā€
You whip the leather again and it barely misses the man. As he steps back, you go to plunge forward down the stairs but the belt catches and youā€™re suddenly pulled backwards by your hand. Youā€™re dragged around to face Bucky as he clutches the long end.
ā€œYou done it now,ā€ he growls, ā€œI promise you, I am gonna fucking break you in half. Right in your daddyā€™s bed.ā€
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sunfl0we3 Ā· 8 months ago
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Sopranos season04 episode02 - Silvio goes against Tony
Very long rambling post about The Sopranos season04 episode02 "No Show." This is an interesting episode to me as it is (I think?) the only time we see Silvio go against Tony - when he gives Patsy the ok to steal floor tiles from the building site where Chris has a no-show job, and thereby goes against Tony's orders.
Now, the reason for Silvio acting out is that he is not happy that Chris was made acting capo by Tony, as he feels Chris is usurping his place in Tony's inner circle.
When he tells Tony that Patsy feels marginalized by Chris' promotion, what he really means to say but doesn't is that he, Silvio, feels marginalized. Of course, Tony only mocks him, saying "marginalized, what the fuck does that even mean?"
But I think there is another, much funnier reason, why Silvio acts like he does. In the scene where he gives Patsy the ok to steal the tiles, we first see Silvio trying to repair a trophy in his office at the Bing. He seems to care about the trophy and gets frustrated when he realizes that someone has left off the cap of the krazy glue with which he wanted to fix it, making the glue dry out.
Now of course we don't know this for sure, but I like to believe that it was Tony who broke the trophy and left off the cap. We know he has a temper, unlike Silvio, who is usually very calm, and (I think?) we see him break things over the course of the show. And it was obviously not Silvio who left off the cap, so it was most likely Tony, since he and Silvio share an office at the Bing.
So, basically, Silvio decided to go against Tony's orders not only because of Chris' promotion, but also because he was sick and tired of Tony breaking and ruining his things. It's his office after all. And who knows how many times this has happened before...
I also love their making-up scene, when Silvio visits Tony at the house and is all like "Who me? That wasn't me with the tiles, it was all a big misunderstanding uwu" and Tony's comment about the whole situations is just "You know, you're getting to be a very strange man in your old age lol"
So yeah, in conclusion, poor Sil...
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3-2-whump Ā· 8 months ago
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The Auction Floor: Thomas Costaā€™s POV
Hi all,
In exchange for a chapter on the current timeline (a chapter I am still working on/fixing up before it is posted), I am posting a prequel chapter. Any and all prequel chapters will be found under 'Eternal, part 0.' They won't have nav arrows, but they will have an explanation to when in the story they take place, and a link to the masterlist to read more. Hope this system works for everyone!
This chapter happens slightly before, concurrently, and a little after The Auction Floor
TW/CW: death of a minor character (briefly mentioned), institutionalized slavery, pet whump, dehumanization, nonconsensual nudity (nonsexual), minor whump (at time of story), creepy/intimate whumper(s) (sort of a multiple whimpers situation), manhandling (nonsexual) (towards the end)
Mob boss Luciano Antonio Costa ā€“ Boss Tony - had died, leaving mafia to his grandson, Thomas, to control. The newly-appointed heir didnā€™t look much like a typical Italian mob boss. With his blonde hair, steely blue eyes, and freckled fair skin, he hardly even looked Italian. However, the old boss never had any legitimate male heirs to pass the helm of leadership to, having only one daughter before his wife died. Although he begrudgingly accepted his daughterā€™s marriage to Tomā€™s father, an inconsequential gangster from the Irish mob, he had always intended to pass the family business onto his surviving grandson.
ā€œIā€™m so sorry for your lossā€ began to lose its meaning after the fourth well-meaning chump, and unfortunately, Grandpa Tonyā€™s funeral had a good turnout. ā€œThat was a beautiful eulogy,ā€ one of many nameless faces sniffled. ā€œYou two must have been very close,ā€ theyā€™d said to him. Were we ever close, though? Thomas wanted to ask, remembering only the time they last fought. It may as well have been a lifetime ago when he was a teenager who turned his back on the family to try and live a straight life, but the guilt hung over him like a curse no matter how hard he had tried to run away from his fate as the next boss of the Costas. It was always about what he wanted me to be, not what I wanted. Never once was it ever about what I wanted to do with my life, he bitterly remembered. Even now, it was all about Grandpa Tonyā€™s wants, as he accepted his role in leading the Costas. He cast a baleful glance at the casket as it slowly disappeared beneath the earth.You won, old man.
His underboss and a few of the capos, men that he had grown up with and who now supported him in running the large criminal organization, caught on to their new bossā€™ sour mood. Admittedly, it wasnā€™t hard to notice how intensely he scowled at the freshly filled-in grave. They suggested celebrating Thomasā€™ ascension to head of the family with drinks and a night out, but their idea of a night out was attending a black-market auction and maxing out the organizationā€™s funds on frivolous shit. Powerful drugs, illicit weapons, plundered antiques, and ā€“dear god, did Jaime just buy an arowana?! Thomas looked over the side of his whiskey glass disapprovingly.
He glanced over at a corner of the auction house that seemed to gather a large crowd. He shrugged and decided to join them to see the display. The crowd surrounded an entire floor-to-ceiling wall of glass, behind which stood people from all around the world, each divided into their own little compartments within the glass wall, each of them completely naked. The way they were displayed in those little glass tanks was oddly reminiscent of how fish were displayed at a pet store.
Get a pet, people had said to him. Itā€™ll be good for you, they said, help lift your spirits, they said, if youā€™re responsible for keeping one little thing alive, maybe youā€™ll be more motivated to take care of yourself, they said. Surely those people had meant a cat or a dog or a python, and probably not an actual human being. Although, Thomas remembered the people giving him that advice were part of the major crime families of the city, too. Perhaps this was what they meant all along?
Regardless of what those people meant, it was a whole different thing to actually commit to owning a person. Heā€™d never seriously considered it before, but now he found himself thoughtfully observing the merchandise behind the glass. Though there were a few people who were obviously adults, most of them were teens, and most them were girls, though there were a couple boys, too.
Whichever one heā€™d pick, they would have to be relatively attractive, if he was going to have to bear looking at them at the end of every day. He eyed a glass cell with a stunning blonde girl futilely trying to cover herself with her hands and ignore the gazes directed within her cell. Thomas pushed past the crowd and moved on; pretty girls like that would be swiped up immediately, so it wouldnā€™t even be worth the trouble to place a bid. The next cell held a freckled boy who leaned into the glass, fogging it up with his breath and writing ā€˜HELP MEā€™ over and over again with his finger. Thomas passed on that one, too. One by one he would find something wrong with the human assets behind the glass cases. Too shy, too desperate, not my type, that one just stares ahead and doesnā€™t even moveā€¦
He finally stopped around the last few cells, where a crowd had dissipated from in front of a glass cell with discontented murmurs. Inside that one crouched a small boy, knobby knees drawn to bony chest, thin, tan arms wrapped around his shins, and a head of messy dark hair resting on top his knees. The boy dared to look up from his hiding place. Loose, unruly waves of hair and thick, dark eyelashes nearly covered his expressive dark brown eyes. Those eyes hid nothing as they shone with fear. Thomas gripped the whiskey in his hand a little tighter. The child cut a striking image inside the glass prison, reminding him of a time and a place and an incidence he never liked to think about for long-
To his misfortune, his subordinates caught him staring. ā€œGot your eye on the little slave, Tommy-Boy?ā€ Luca asked as he sauntered up to him.
ā€œDonā€™t call him that.ā€ Even if that was technically what he would be, the whole concept still took a while for him to get used to. ā€œI just think heā€™s cute is all,ā€ he mumbled into his glass, draining it of the rest of the whiskey while he tried to convince himself the pink in his cheeks was only from the drink.
ā€œWhy donā€™t you place a bid?ā€ Thomas whipped around to see Jaime lurking behind him. When did he get here? His eyes traveled down to the large picnic cooler on wheels, supposedly where Jaimeā€™s new fish was. ā€œBoss Tony, God rest his soul, left you quite the inheritance, Iā€™m sure you can afford him,ā€ Jamie snickered. He pointed to the sign above the glass cell, where the serial number and QR code were displayed prominently. ā€œ142225,ā€ he read.
ā€œDoesnā€™t he kind of remind you of-ā€
ā€œYou shut up. Right now,ā€ Thomas warned.
ā€œWeā€™ll shut up once you place a bid, now come on! At least look up the little slave!ā€
Thomas sighed and whipped out his phone; the sooner he scanned the QR Code with the app the black market had made him download, the sooner his underlings would shut the hell up. A profile popped up on his phone screen, the men crowding comically around him to read over his shoulder. 142225 had been collected in Pakistan, was 5ā€™1ā€, and weighed barely 90 lbs. at the last weigh-in.
ā€œThey like to starve the kids here,ā€ Luca explained nonchalantly. ā€œMakes it easier to control them.ā€ Thomas glanced briefly at the thin boy inside the glass, frowning a little as he let that unsettling fact sink in. He quickly scrolled past the blood type, known allergies, and other information he deemed irrelevant to hover his thumb over the ā€˜PLACE A BIDā€™ button.
ā€œWell, go on, you know you want to!ā€
ā€œHe looks easy enough to take care of, and easy on the eyes, too!ā€
ā€œWe saw how enviously you stared at Matteoā€™s pet at the last New Yearā€™s party, wonā€™t it be nice to finally have one of your own?ā€
 Eventually, their peer-pressure resulted in the new mob boss placing a bid, becoming $30k poorer, filling out some ridiculous form about any last-minute body mods he may want, and waiting until the end of the night to collect his new slave and go home. His companions had left hours ago, and every other buyer had gotten their slave already, so it was just him waiting alone in an emptying warehouse, trying to make small talk with one of the event coordinators.
ā€œSo, does he have a name?ā€
She didnā€™t even look up from her tablet. ā€œHeā€™s named whatever you want to name him.ā€
ā€œWhere is he from? Besides the collection point, whereā€™s he actually from?ā€
ā€œWe donā€™t know.ā€
ā€œHow old is he?ā€
ā€œWe donā€™t know.ā€
Thomas barely suppressed a groan. ā€œIs there anything you do know?ā€ he ground out impatiently.
ā€œYeah. He looks even cuter when he cries.ā€ The woman smirked over her tablet, looking over Thomasā€™ right shoulder. ā€œHeā€™s here.ā€
Thomas turned around to see the boy, now clothed in a white T-shirt and bluish gray sweatpants. He kept his eyes downcast and his hands folded in front of him. ā€œWhatā€™s your name, kid?ā€
The boy looked up briefly before dropping his gaze back to his bare feet. ā€œKhaled,ā€ he replied, voice timid and heavily accented, ā€œbut you may call me whatever you want, sir.ā€
Khaled. He silently rolled the name around on his tongue as if savoring an exotic sweet. Khaled. Thomas cast what he hoped was a reassuring smile, not that Khaled saw it with his gaze fixed to the floor. ā€œLuckily for you, I like your name.ā€ He strode decisively toward the exit, gently placing a hand on the boyā€™s shoulder to direct him. ā€œCome with me, Khaled.ā€
In the nearly three-hour car ride back to Thomasā€™ home, the mob boss learned three things about his new purchase. Firstly, Khaled was shy, only speaking when spoken to and even then, using as few words as possible. Also, Khaled probably didnā€™t speak much English; how much of this was because he was shy, and how much of this was because he literally couldnā€™t understand him? And ā€“finally, -Khaled could run. Since the moment the car parked, Khaled dashed out and sprinted into the street. He nearly got hit by a truck before Thomas could chase after him, pull him back, and drag him inside the apartment building. The scene of a grown man dragging a distressed kid who was screaming bloody murder probably shocked some residents, but fortunately the doorman was part of the Costas and did not bat an eye.
ā€œIt is too damn early for this!ā€ Thomas complained to himself as he practically threw Khaled into the awaiting elevator. ā€œDo you want to be leashed up like a dog, you little shit?! Cause thatā€™s whatā€™s going to happen if you keep trying to run away!ā€
ā€œLet go of me, please!ā€ the boy cried, his voice brittle and panicked like a scared, caged animal as he tried to twist out of the punishing grip on his arm.
ā€œLike hell Iā€™m letting you go, not after maxing out my personal credit card on you and pulling an all-nighter for the first time since Kandahar!ā€ He violently jammed the buttons that would take them to the top floor of the high rise.
Soon the elevator dinged, doors swooshing open as they reached the floor of his penthouse. ā€œCome on!ā€ Thomas continued to drag the boy through the hallway, ignoring him begging in that endearing accent of his. Khaledā€™s complaints all but ceased as soon as he opened the door to his penthouse and let the boy step inside. His eyes widened, sparkling in awe, and his jaw dropped as he let out a reverent ā€œwhoaā€ that transcended any language barrier.
The living room to the penthouse itself was light and spacious, with large floor-to-ceiling windows that let in plenty of natural light, and minimalist dĆ©cor to accent the living room. A large L-shaped couch dominated the living room and looked over the expansive rooftop and the cityscape beyond it. The rest of the room terminated sharply into a dining area with a large oak table and a wood-floored kitchen with two large granite countertops. An imposingly large door ā€“the door to Thomasā€™ bedroom, -stood closed to the left of the living room. A hallway to the right branched off into an office on one side, and a guest bathroom opposite. A small staircase right outside the laundry room led to a storage loft spanning above the entrance. Thomas toed off his shoes at the door. Khaled, who wasnā€™t wearing any shoes, hesitantly walked in. Tom frowned when he noticed the dirty footprints left behind on his beige rug.ā€œWould you like a bath, Khaled?ā€ he suggested. The fact that Khaled didnā€™t reply made him again wonder how much English he truly understood. We can work on that. He sighed in exasperation as he gripped the boyā€™s arm and dragged him off to the guest bathroom. Once inside, Thomas deposited him at the entrance and turned on the lights and the fan. He got the shower head running next. Khaled stood silently watching him by the door as he tested the waterā€™s temperature with his hand a few times. He nodded in satisfaction as the water finally reached an agreeable temperature. ā€œCome on in,ā€ he beckoned. Khaled inched closer to the bath tub. ā€œCan I take off your clothes?ā€ he asked. The boy blinked, then shook his head as he quickly took off the shirt himself. The drab sweatpants soon followed, and he quickly stepped into the shower. Thomas drew the curtain to prevent water from spilling and to give him a shred of privacy. As the boy showered, he soon realized Khaled had nothing to wear but that depressing little t-shirt and sweatpants. He took them to the laundry room and chucked them in the hamper, making a mental note to buy some clothes for Khaled as soon as possible. Cute as the small naked boy was, he was still a minor, and Tom didnā€™t need any extra distractions while he was adjusting to his new role as Boss of the Costa Family.
Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump
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lemon-muncher Ā· 1 year ago
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The best way to start writing again is with everyone's favorite capo, Bruno Bucciarati! This man has a hold on my soul that I can't even explain. Anyway! Enjoy this short little drabble while I work on some of my months old requests :<
Bruno Bucciarati x Male Reader
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It didn't take much convincing for Bucciarati to give in to your perverted request. Was it out of desperation, to feel the warmth of your skin after nights apart? Or maybe he was just as wicked and perverted as you, finally indulging in an act he subconsciously wanted for ages now? It didn't matter to you. At the end of the day, Bucciarati allowed you to use him for some random fantasy, and whatever reasons he had for it, you quietly accepted them.
"Shhh~ Quiet down, hun! Don't want anyone to hear you!" You sheepishly chirped into your Capo's ear as you slowly pushed yourself into him. Between your body practically engulfing his own and having sex with you in a club bathroom, Bucciarati's head was spinning. "Can't believe you got me to do this!" A breathy moan leaves the other man's mouth. Despite feeling you inside him, softly breaking him, a sensation of guilt fills him.
Fortunately, you can read the man like a book. Between his face and how he suddenly stopped clenching around you, you knew Bucciarati was distracted with something. "Forget the mission, Bruno. The others got it..." You grunted softly while purposefully aiming your hips up to barely hit his prostate. As if on cue, Bucciarati instinctively shivers, and if it wasn't for your arms around his chest and waist, he would have folded over. "It's okay to let go, Capo~ Besides, we're supposed to blend in. It's not unusual for two people to sneak off like this~" With a hushed chuckle and purr into the black-haired man's ear, Bucciarati let his composure slip.
He looks back at you with rosy cheeks and watery eyes. "I've got half the mind to make you regret this, Y/N..." What was supposed to sound threatening was translated as a soft whine, making you smirk as you thrust harshly into Bucciarati again. "Last I check, you wanted this too, Bruno! So don't act like a whiny bitch and continue what you agreed to!" You kissed the side of your lover's red cheeks and sped up your thrusts. Your hands reposition themselves on Bucciarati's hips, causing his own hands to clash with the bathroom tile.
"I'm never doing this with you again!" Bruno moans into his hands to keep himself quiet. And you can only smile as you hear the pretty whines and lies that leave your lover's mouth.
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whirlwindstars Ā· 2 months ago
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Le Mondeā€™s ā€œLes MisĆ©rablesā€ comic book review
General information
The two volumes are part of ā€œLes Grands Classiques de la LittĆ©rature en Bande DessineĆ©ā€ (The Greatest Classics of Literature in Comic Book format) by French newspaper ā€œLe Mondeā€.
Adaptation by Daniel Bardet.
Drawings by Bernard Capo.
'Plus points'
The adaptation
The adaptation is very good!
Considering the entire comic book is 92 pages long, the plot points are there and are well detailed. Some lines are even word-to-word inserts from the book, such as the beginning.
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The sceneries
The backgrounds are extremely faithful to the novel! There are scenes where you can see they paid attention to Hugoā€™s long descriptions of streets and rooms.
The panels are full of minute things to look out for if you are a book fan.
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The characters
I enjoyed the way they kept some traits, both physical and psychological, of the main characters, such as Jean Valjeanā€™s hatred for Marius or Bossuetā€™s appearance!
I canā€™t say all aesthetic choices are to be considered a success, thoughā€¦
More on it later.
The covers
Paolo Martinello created two beautiful comic book covers, choosing to depict pivotal scenes from the volumes.
This point too has a downside, as youā€™ll soon discover.
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The bonus pages
Some pages were added in both volumes with insights on Victor Hugo, his works (including more information on ā€œLes MisĆ©rablesā€). They put some extracts from the Brick, too!
'Minus points'
Itā€™s in French
Being a product for a French newspaper, it's obviously written in French. 
So, if you are not well versed in the language, it will become rather tricky if not impossible to get everything.
I could only find an Italian version of this comic, I canā€™t find other translations.
The style of the drawings
Of course, this point is subjective, but Iā€™m not a big fan of the style used for the panels. Itā€™s a bit old-school, in my opinion.
It wouldnā€™t be that big a problem, if it werenā€™t for a small detailā€¦
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The cover is clickbait
Donā€™t judge a book by its cover!
As I said before, the covers were made by a different artist, and the difference is striking!
And thereā€™s more: other variants of the same volumes have different covers! Even in those cases, they were not made in the main artistā€™s style.
(Iā€™m not entirely sure, but it seems to be the case in the Italian version as well).
This creates a problem, as you canā€™t always make sure the style is the same, especially in comic books that are sold with a newspaper.
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Do I recommend it?
If you have a good level of French (or Italian) and you like the artstyle, I say you should give it a try.
Itā€™s an abridged version, but still a good adaptation.
Bonus Info (SPOILERS!!)
The barricade is, as always, significantly cut
With only 92 pages, it was bound to happen.
I was surprised to find a character like Mabeuf included in the story, with more than a couple panels showing his death and the aftermath.
But, aside from that moment, the other scenes at the barricade are more or less what you see in the musical version.
Speaking of characters at the barricadeā€¦
Some members of ā€˜Les Amis de lā€™ABCā€™ have been cut, thus not appearing at the barricade.
The most notable one being Jean Prouvaire.
Moreover, the aesthetic choices for Les Amis & Marius are alsoā€¦ Well, a choice.
They all look way older than their age! 
I mean, people used to look older in the past, but a quick search through portraits of that time period in the Louvre website helps with getting a better idea on how a man in their 20s used to look.
And, as much as I love 19th Century sideburns, the way theyā€™re drawn hereā€¦
Let me just show you.
THIS IS ENJOLRAS:
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(You know, the guy who is supposed to look younger than his age. And quite androgynous. And resemble a Greek statue. That guy.)
You get what I mean.
And so we arrive at the end of this review. I can say I quite enjoyed preparing it, and I hope you enjoyed it as well!
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notmybitch Ā· 9 months ago
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'I never lose my appetite'. Fina you're just my long lost straight-haired twin at this point.
I want more scenes of Marta and Fina with Isidro, even if he doesn't find out about them, it's just really nice to see them together :')
'How can you look so beautiful after what happened yesterday?' Ma'am pls, stop being so cute.
I am fascinated by how firm Marta is in front of Jaime, as she keeps trying to push him away as much as she can. I wish it was just as easy for her with DamiƔn, the old man is never going to give up and the pressure he puts on Marta is huge. It was clear in her face that she felt trapped about calling Jaime for lunch.
I can't understand how Jaime keeps getting more and more unbearable with each scene. Mudate sĆ³lo capo, nadie te detiene.
I have 99% confidence that Jaime will look for Marcos next week. What I'm not sure about is if Marcos will reveal what Marta feels for Fina or not. Best case scenario, he lies to Jaime and lets Marta know that they talked. At worst, Jaime begins to suspect Fina and we'll have another beautifully torturous week.
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ravenzeppeli Ā· 9 months ago
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šŸ©øTwisted Fate |Yandere Ghiaccio x Reader Angst|
Warning: strong/violent language, threats, kidnapping, murder [random men], physical abuse, dark thoughts [thoughts of - noncon, abuse, torture], verbal abuse, torture [broken bones, choking, beating]. Extremely dark - MA.
Comission
Ghiaccio's POV
Ghiaccio could clearly remember the day that you vanished away from him eight years ago, your entire family, as well as you moving away. For years, he's tried to track you down, searching for you, for any signs of your existence so he could return you back to himself. You belonged to him, and one day, he felt as if you would return to him.
As the years passed, he started to lose hope, his mafia affiliations being no help in tracking you down either. How could someone just up and vanish? The pain of losing you was hard for him, his sadness turning into a permanent, icy rage that he could no longer control. How dare you just up and leave him after he promised to marry you once the two of you turned 18. You've wasted so much of his life with you, and now he's going to be all alone forever. All alone because you fucking left him.
Months had finally passed since he'd last continued his long search for you. Despite him thinking of you every single day, he tried his best to distract himself heavily with work. At night when he got home he would pull out an old picture of you, staring at it until his eyes were fucking blurry and watering. You were permanently burned into the back of his mind. All he was left with was one single fucking picture of you as a reminder of what he lost forever. A reminder of a perfect love that he thought that he lost forever.
As a folder with your picture appeared on the mission table, Ghiaccio's heart nearly jumped out of his chest as he snatched up the folder. Instead of lying to his capo Risotto he explained who you were and how much you meant to him, how you were his high school sweetheart that he lost once the two of you hit adulthood due to you vanishing. Lying to his capo was something that he never did, Risotto was understanding when it came to his men. He was a great captain and someone he trusted deeply.
The man who placed a hit on your head was a random male, a male having no ties to the mafia, but it seemed that you had ties to a completely different mafia organization, a new organization that was trying to rise above the rulings of Passione. The group was small, only five men and you in total, and he planned to fucking kill all five of those bastards. In fact, Risotto gave him permission to kill not only those five men but the man who placed a hit on you as well. As fate would have it, you would be returning to him after all. He would be allowed to keep you. To have you as his again.
Risotto made it clear to Ghiaccio that he would have to complete this on his own, and that if he messed up he may just lose his life, but it was a risk that he was willing to take. It was a risk that he was always willing to take, especially now, considering the stakes were so high. The stakes of you being all his again, rather you fucking liked it or not. You didn't have a choice. You belonged to him, and he would make sure that you would never leave his side again.
It only took him one day to take out the pathetic hitman team that you were a part of. Smaller mafia families always disgust him, and the fact that his beautiful beloved was a part of that? It pissed him off, and it pissed him off even more when he realized that you actively were living 30 minutes away from him. Right under his nose.. for years you've been fucking right here, right under his fucking nose, purposefully avoiding him. How dare you. Why would you not want to be with him?
Tracking you down now that you had no protection wasn't hard. In fact, it seemed as if you were waiting for him. He entered a cheap apartment complex, the dim lights flickering as he pushed into the apartment complex where you lived. One of your fucking teammates ratted out where you were in exchange for his own life. After the man disclosed your location, Ghiaccio blew his fucking cock off with three quick shots, watched him bleed out, enjoying every second of it. That's how he killed all five of your teammates as well as the man that placed a hit on you, feeling enraged with the fact that those men were around you while he was stuck without you for the past eight years.
Sitting right on a worn-out dark leather couch was you, your head raising slowly, body immediately going stiff once you saw him. You looked so much older, so much more beautiful than he remembered.. that pissed him off, his hands balling into fists as he slammed your apartment door shut as he stepped in, locking it with a swift motion.
The tension was so thick that it could be cut with a knife, a knife that he wanted to slice across your soft skin as punishment for leaving him. Your soft, beautiful flesh.. he wanted to fucking tear into you for leaving him. He wanted to beat you bloody, bruise up your pretty little face and break your nose. He wanted to make sweet love to you, filling your cunt with his seed. So many things.. he wanted to do so many beautiful things to you.
"You fucking cunt," Ghiaccio growled, his heart skipping a rapid beat as he approached you. With no hesitation, he pulled out his gun, pointing it straight at you. "Eight fucking years.. I've been waiting eight long years to see you again. Where the fuck did you go!?" He pressed the barrel of the gun to your forehead as you raised your head to look up at him. You couldn't fucking run away from him now, he would blow your goddamn brains out if you tried anything stupid. Or he would crack your head open with the gun, whichever he was feeling.
A tad bit of fear washed over your cute little face, your eyes slightly widening as he pressed the barrel of the gun deeper into your forehead, forcing you to look up at him further. "Ghiaccio," you whispered, venom dripping from your voice. How dare you not speak to him with love. "I didn't want to marry you so I left. We were graduating in a week so I panicked and left, I left you a note behind." The disrespect.. he couldn't believe the disrespect that he had endured for so long.
A dry laugh escaped his lips as he dropped the gun from your forehead, a small circle imprint being on the center of your forehead due to how hard he pressed the gun against your forehead. His free hand balled into a tight fist, crashing into the side of your head with force, your body limply falling to the side. "NO!" He screamed, rage filling his body. "Your shitty note only said bye and nothing else, you dumb cunt!"
Anger completely took over his body in this moment as he climbed on top of you, his fist raising, crashing into the side of your face, making a low pop sound, a pained cry escaping your lips. "Cry, fucking cry you unloyal whore! I know you let those men fuck you, they said you didn't but I know they're lying! You're mine, you're fucking mine!" He raised his body slighly, his fist raising again.
A sharp sting across Ghiaccio's cheek caused him to freeze up, his glasses flying off of his face, making a light thump sound as they hit the ground. In the past, when he beat you up, you would cry and beg for mercy. Never did you hit him back in the past. These eight years have changed you. They've made you unclean. He didn't like the feeling of not having control over you. He expected to slip into immediate control.
"Fuck you," you spat up at him, your blood coating his face. "I hate you, I never loved you!" Tears were rolling down your face, that causing a grin to appear on his lips, despite your words and you slapping him, your tears meant that he was breaking you again. What he was about to do to you, he would take much joy in it. He would enjoy this so fucking much, because as beautiful as you are, as much as he wanted to marry and impregnate you, you needed to be hurt. If he hurt you badly, he would just fix you up. It was fine, he could fix you up and buy you things later on once he finished destroying you mentally as he did oh so long ago.
Your entire face was bloody, blood pouring from the side of your head, your entire left side of your face sporting a large purple bruise that had blood seeping from a small cut the middle of the large bruise. Your bottom lip was slightly rolled out, swollen with little bite marks from where you bit down on your lip. You must have done that to muffle your pain. How fucking pathetic.
He grabbed the hand that dared to slap him, bending three of your fingers back until he heard three snaps. "Dumb cunt, think I care about your love!?" He snapped, low sobs escaping your mouth, your body finally trembling beneath him as he held up your hand, your three broken fingers starting to swell and turn purple. "I will rip your fucking fingers off and shove them down your throat if you ever slap me again! Now apologize before your entire arm gets broken, you brainless bitch!"
"S-sorry," you gasped out, his other hand quickly wrapping around your throat, beginning to squeeze.
Killing you would be so easy, so easily he could squeeze your fragile little throat until your body went limp. He could leave you here to rot, leave your body in this dump of a place for the rats to pick at you. No.. he's waited this long. He's waited for you to come home with him and marry him. You belonged with him, he couldn't just end your life. Ending your life would mean that you would be gone forever. He wanted to kiss and fuck you, he wanted you to be his property again.
He continued to squeeze, watching the life slowly drain from your eyes as you weakly wiggled beneath him. "Come back with me or die." His hand squeezed harder as your mouth muttered 'die', his other hand raising, beginning to repeatedly punch you in your stomach, not using his full strength so that you could still answer him. "Come back with me! Marry me! I'll beat you to death, I'll strip you naked and beat you for weeks until you die! I know how to keep someone alive for a long time, I've tortured countless men to death!"
Pained moans escaped your lips, your tears mixing with your blood, staining your neck red. "Fine!" You cried out, blood spilling from your mouth. "S-stop, I'll do it!"
He let go of your throat, leaving a dark bruise behind, the blood that coated your neck caked onto the side of his hand. He didn't mind. After all, you deserved this beating. You deserved to have your throat fucking slit for leaving him those many years ago, but he would push that from his mind. After all, he loved you. He didn't want to kill you, he only wanted to beat you so that you would love him and be submissive. He would beat all of the ignorance out of you, beating his love into you.
"I love you baby," he muttered, his throat sore from all of the yelling that he's done all day. He's yelled more today than he's ever has in his entire life, and that was saying a lot. "I've searched for you these past years, I'm so happy that you'll be returning to me." He let himself lean down, his body leaning over you as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling your limp body into a tight hug. "My sweet girl, did you think I wouldn't find you? It was fate, we are meant to be!" That folder showed up for a reason. Fate wanted you to be his. The universe had brought you back into his arms, and he was so grateful.
"P-please," you sobbed, but he didn't know why you were sobbing. Shouldn't you be happy that he found you again? "I don't wa -"
"I don't give a fuck!" He snapped, raising his hand, roughly smacking the back of your head. "Now hug me back. I'm your fiancƩ now, and soon I'll be your husband. You'll be beaten and fucked until you are perfect."
Weaky, your arms wrapped around him, sobs escaping your mouth as you clung to him. You said nothing, and he liked that you weren't saying anything. You just needed to shut the fuck up and accept his anger. You being submissive and kind will get you treats, fighting back and being mouthy would get your teeth knocked down your throat. Either way, he would get what he wanted. All he wanted was you, he found you beautiful with or without a fucked up face and missing teeth. The choice was up to you.
"Good girl," he muttered, sitting up as he pulled you into his lap, placing a kiss on your forehead. "I'm so glad to finally have you back. Isn't fate perfect?" He got no reply, a satisfied hum escaping your lips as your head weakly rested on his chest, your low sobs providing him with comfort, a smile appearing on his lips as he listened to you sob and shake in his arms. He was so happy to have you back, so relieved. Relieved because now you were his again, and he wouldn't ever let you slip away from his grasp again.
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coochellati Ā· 7 months ago
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Heeeey!! Just read your last post regarding Brunoā€™s ā€¦ āœØspicy sideāœØ Iā€™d like to quickly add my 2 cents:
I think Bruno does have some experience in bed (not too much though), because of two things: 1. the typical Mediterranean-cultures view on the relationship between men and sex (Iā€™ll explain in a bit); 2. the condom joke.
It is actually very common in the Mediterranean area (the European side ofc) for dads to take their sons to brothels or leave their sons in the hands of a sex worker as a gift when they turn 14-15 to ā€œprepareā€ them for the possible future sexual encounters and to essentially help their sons make the first step into their masculinity. While I donā€™t think Paolo had the opportunity to ā€œprepareā€ such a ā€œgiftā€ā€™ for Bruno, I do believe he was taken there by maybe a capo or someone else from the famiglia who was taking care of him (becauseā€¦ why not. Itā€™s the mafia). And I believe this exactly because of the condom joke - like cā€™mon, heā€™d never make such a comparison if he didnā€™t know how itā€™s used and stuffā€¦ yā€™know what Iā€™m saying? PLUS THAT was literally the first thing that came to his mind! The first! Heā€™s a freak because he certainly knows whatā€™s up with sexual matters. (And heā€™s also very young like seriously, everyone knows how men are when theyā€™re 20).
This was my contribution to the conversation. Canā€™t wait for your next material šŸ¤“
(Here's a link to the post that this ask is referring to just in case some of you haven't read it.)
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Oooh, I like this take!!
I could see this happening, especially since you just know for a fact that Passione has tons of connections to brothels and sex workers--it wouldn't be hard for someone in the famiglia to arrange a "gift" for Bruno.
So that makes me wonder: who would have linked Bruno up? I feel like Polpo wouldnā€™t really care about this, so maybe another one of Bruno's connections within famiglia arranged this? In Golden Wind, the only relationships of Bruno's that we really see are those within his team. (Well, I suppose there is Pericolo, but I donā€™t know how close they are.) However, Iā€™m sure heā€™s become acquainted with others.
Bouncing off of your thoughts, I'm now imagining that someone took Bruno under their wing when he first joined and ended up becoming like a big brother to him. (I say big brother because I'm not sure a big sister would set him up with a "gift..." Based on what you said, this seems exclusively like a man thing.) Perhaps we donā€™t see his "brother" in Golden Wind because he isnā€™t around anymore? To make Brunoā€™s backstory even more tragic, maybe he died. :( Of course, all of these thoughts are headcanonsā€”I just like the idea that Bruno would have a pseudo-family member within the famiglia.
And the condom joke! How could I have forgotten about that? šŸ˜‚ Yeah, twenty-year-old men are dirty-minded, and I love that Araki showed us that Brunoā€™s mind is far from clean.
Anyway, thanks for enlightening me on Mediterranean culture! I wonder who else in the team may have possibly had a "gift" arranged for them...
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lostinpleasantview Ā· 6 months ago
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The Altos are one of the founding families of Pleasantview, and their roots in the region stretch back to when the area was previously known as Sunset Valley. Despite this, fifty years have passed since the pinnacle of their political and economic dominance.
Gone are the days of Vita Alto, matriarch of the Alto Family who served as chairwoman of the National Center Party who dominated SimNation politics for nearly sixty years; her storied political career included a forty years within SimNation's Congress, where she served as a congresswoman and senator. Her political career culminated in a stint as Ambassador of Salvadorada, where she played a decisive role in brokering a peace agreement that ended the Salvadoradan Civil War and began Salvadorada's transition to democracy. (Less discussed are Vita's political failuresā€”her three failed primary campaigns to become the Center Party's presidential candidate in 1960, 1968, and 1972; or her financial and material support for the anti-communist Salvadoran Officer's Movement in the 1950s, which helped lead to the troubles in Salvadorada that she later "solved").
If Vita stood as a behemoth, then fewer still recall her husband Nick Alto, patriarch of the Alto family who served as head of Alto Industriesā€”a sprawling business and industrial conglomerate founded by Vita's forebears. Nick's heading of the company allowed Vita to remain above the fray and focused on her political careerā€”though millions in federal funds and subsidies still trickled towards Alto Industries.
Aside from their legal endeavors, there were also their illegal ones: Vita was heiress not only to a legal business empire, but an illegal one as well: the Alto Crime Family, an old-school mob racket. Vita and Nick's years were the golden era for the Alto's... yet it all floundered through the lack of an heir.
Vita and Nick had a daughter, Holly. Holly was everything that her parents were not: sensitive, artistic, and certainly with no taste, acumen, or ambition for a career in politics, business, or even heading the family's sprawling criminal enterprises. By 1980, things were slowing down: Vita's storied political career had come to an en following her tenure as ambassador, and there were rumors of federal regulators preparing to investigate Alto Industries for labor violations. Rather than allow their hard work to be squandered, Vita and Nick arranged that their daughter should marry one of the Alto Family's highest ranking Capos, a man known as Damien.
Shortly after Holly and Damien's wedding, Damien was formally recognized by Vita and Nick as the future successor of the Alto Crime Family. This recognition was finalized when Damien was added to the Alto Family Trust, which in 1980 had funds in excess to 200 Million Simoleons. With the faith placed in him, Damien immediately turned against his in-laws... or so the story goes. Both Vita and Nick died in a very suspicious car-crash in 1981, leaving Damien in control of the Alto crime syndicate. Alto Industries elected an interim CEOā€”who soon found himself ensnared in a series of corruption scandals and federal indictments, which wrecked the company's valuationā€”by 1989 Alto Industries would file for bankruptcy. Black Monday in 1989 proved a shock to the Alto's wealth, and the Alto Family Trust lost nearly 100 Million in value.
Holly, though trapped in a loveless marriage, was freed by the death of her parents. Her husband provided liberal funding for her music career, and by the late 1980s Holly Alto would be a household name in SimNation as one of the nation's most famous pop stars. Her tours earned millions; in the midst of her busy musical career, Holly gave birth to twin girls: Venice and Verona. Holly's marriage entered a rocky phase in the late 80s; rumors of divorce were squashed when Holly discovered that Damien would be able to claim a portion of the Alto Trust for himself.
Damien was assassinated in 1991 by faction of disgruntled members within the Alto Crime Family. His death tore the Alto's illicit business empire to shreds, with squabbling factions competing for turf and territory. A moderate faction looked to Holly to take the reigns of the criminal enterprise, but she resolutely refusedā€”allowing the faction still loyal to her family name to be governed by a series of well-meaning but ultimately hapless deputies. Holly and her daughters continued to receive payouts from the family's criminal enterprises throughout the 90s, but these ceased by 2002. Holly found herself forced to sustain her lifestyle and expenses through the family trust, as well as through whatever income she could generate through her musical career, which entered a slump by the mid-2000s. By 2005, SimPop magazine declared Holly a has-been; by 2015, the online blogosphere branded Holly a flop after a poorly advised stadium tour in Salvadorada was marred by technical difficulties, poor performances, and protests.
Family troubles also carried into the next generation: Venice and Verona were complete opposites, and though they were friends in childhood, they drifted apart as teenagers. This distance became venomous when both girls attended Sim State University: both ended up placed upon Academic Probation. Though Verona succeeded in getting her grades together and graduating with decent grades, Venice ended up flunking out. Both of Holly's daughters have now returned home to the nest, Villa Altoā€”as Holly grapples with severe financial issues that threaten to send the family from their luxurious manse into the poorhouse.
Venice continues to shop and spend like there is there no tomorrow, and dreams of an entertainment career of her own... as an actress. Verona, meanwhile, has recently picked up a gig as a Physic Phone Pal... though a group of cadres affiliated with the Alto Crime Family who remain loyal to the family have reached out to her, clamoring for her to take her rightful spot as her father's heir.
Can Holly keep her squabbling daughters together and keep a roof over their head? Will Venice strike big and win in the fame games? And what about Verona? Will she embark on her own path, or will the tug of the past pull her in another direction?
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just-some-guy-joust Ā· 10 months ago
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Full list of Side B OCs under the cut!
Bracket post
Side A list
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Professor Morelle Da Capo | She/her | @kira-moonrabbit
Robotwoman who is famous for being dedicated. She works 24/7. Her hobbies include "logging everyone's opinions about her" and "standing still thinking about bicycles"
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Chester Mallory | He/Him | @liliflower137
Chester is a twitch streamer and freelance programmer. The multiverse keeps dropping wild adventures on his lap but man he just wants to kiss his husband, cook some food for his friends, and take a damn nap.
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Lilly | She/her | @pocket-ghostie
CW: Child death
Lilly is a ghost who has found other ghosts and is hanging out <3 Almost all of the plot is happening around her. Thats actually a major plot point in the story, things are happening to the people she cares about... but nothing is really happening to her. She is simply hanging out and doesn't know what to do about the plot, but it keeps going without her doing anything. I don't have much to say about her, I only have things to say about the people around her.
[No image submitted]
Cobblestone Mason | He/him | @splatoonmaster69
A regular human fighter youve seen a thousand times. I promise. NEURODIVERGENCY JUMPSCARE.
(Mod note: I promise there's gonna be more context for this guy in the actual polls when I put the longer description there lmao)
CW: Transformation horror, isekai, lightning strikes
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Mendel Warrenpeace | He/him | @bittersweetbonbon
Mendel was just a normal guy, who happened to love Toontown: Corporate Clash *so* much that he played it nearly 24/7, maxing out all of his gags and disguises, even going so far as to become a beta tester for experimental VR haptic suits, just so he could be more immersed in the game. However, he was foolish enough to play the game in VR during the most intense lightning storm seen in his area, got struck by said lightning, and was isekaed into the game itself. Now trapped in the world he used to adore, at level one no less, he would do anything to get back home, up to and including re-beating the game, no matter how strenuous running around and throwing pies at robots is in "real life". Of course, beating the game isn't going to free him from Toontown's inky clutches, but we don't have to tell him that, right? Of course not.
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Darien | He/him | @bittersweetbonbon
Darien is a normal guy in every way possible, except for the fact that his boss, Anthony, has been steadily replacing all of his coworkers with robots. So, in response, Darien started bonding aggressively with the robots, bringing them home-baked goods and motor oil and listening to their problems, until said robots unanimously decided "Yeah, we like this guy, we're keeping him.". When his boss got word of the robots liking Darien more than him, he conspired to turn Darien into a robot, too, and would have succeeded if said robots didn't revolt against Anthony, turning *him* into the robot instead. Now with a legion of incredibly loyal automatons behind him, Darien has become the de-facto owner of the company, a fact that stresses him out to no end, and drives Anthony to the end of his wit with jealousy.
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#cyclops# | It/they | @splatoonmaster69
Cycnical highschool nurse with a haircut that gets them mocked by the teenage mages they are the unwilling gaurdian of.
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Volshebney Rebenok Asteroff | He/him | @splatoonmaster69
The worlds most 14 year old ever. Eats a diet of only mac and cheese. Sneaks onto a boat by stabbing it and passing out. Just. So Incredibly 14 years old
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Gloria | She/her | @mysterystar2
Just a gal! She's got a normal family and (up until recently) a normal life too. She's got a special interest in photography and is also generally a very anxious gal, and a lot of us can probably relate <3. She's super considerate and is super close with her friends and family, and would probably be your buddy too even if you only tell her hi.
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Levi Dienhart | He/him | @imfirequeen
Levi lost his memories and is now kinda just a wet pathetic cat of a man. He works in a craft shop all day and has a sweet girlfriend and a daughter they adopted. He's in a constant state of being unfazed and just confused, but he does like purple. He's the embodiment of the autism creature.
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Chel | She/her | @toonfanstars
She was just an average guy. She would wake up, eat breakfast, and get ready for work. She didn't particularly like her job, but her coworker was friendly enough, even if a little too ambitious. She likes to keep her routine as normal as possible, and any little deviation usually bugs her but she tries to deal with it. Whether it be that she can't find a matching pair of socks or suddenly getting possessed by a demon, nothing is stopping her from getting her morning coffee & bagel from her favourite bakery.
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Rishi | He/Him | @littlemsterious
heā€™s cursed, has seen the horrors. is pretty laid back about it. he didnt do it, it just happened to him.
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Freddy V. | He/him | @g0thiclem0nade
Freddy is just some greasy southern accented vampire that is definitely older than the US of A. He likes to play his guitar and rock out with his friends. From helping people save their sisters to running around a post thermonuclear wasteland America heā€™s very often sidelined by some other cooler person. It should also be noted this guy has been a character occurrence in several of my video game play throughs because heā€™s just that versatile.
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Zena | She/her/hers, it/its/its, and ze/zir/zirs, but all pronouns are acceptable | @spark-ocblog (CW: mentions of blood and murder on this blog)
Zena works a variety of retail jobs and lives in a boring, cheap, low-quality apartment. She is entirely oblivious to the various supernatural happenings in the town she's in, despite being one of the oldest supernatural creatures in the area. It likes to participate in mundane human activities for fun, such as "Lie Down On A Cushion For Eight Hours With Your Eyes Closed," and "Pet Animal." Zir biggest worries are busy shifts and managing human finances.
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Bea Hart | He/Him | @lowpolyskeletonz
Bea Hart may be half God, but you know what he also is? Just a guy. He's a husband and father, an absolute sweetheart and probably the only person in his friend group who's still atleast half human.
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Levi | He/him | @cyikess
An unwilling chronic isekai protagonist. He can't catch a break! He keeps getting thrown to new and different fantasy/sci-fi/whatever worlds when all he wants is his normal life back. He's just a guy!
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