#something about drawing this cured my soul lol
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pisces placements x hobbies
pisces sun
pisces moon
pisces rising
pisces stellium
12th house stellium
pisces lilith
You have to have an emotional outlet. No. It doesnât have to be a career, but you need it to be apart of your routine. here are some things that can turn the stress and mundane into an outlet:
Listen to music
- this is probably one of the easiest ones to do. Music is so accessible. So make a playlist for every mood or just for fun lol. but make sure itâs high frequency and good for your soul. example: i like to listen to my childhood bops to get me to maintain a positive vibe or just positive instrumentals.
Journal
- ive been a consistent journaler for about 5 years. i donât do it everyday but i mainly journal when im in a negative state. It helps put my mind at ease. Itâs also beneficial long term, to see how your mental has progressed!
Scrapbooking
- this may be a little old school. be this is a good way of getting off of your phone and creating sentimental memories. you can also add your own creativity and admire it for years to come!
Poetry
- i look at poetry as the love child between traditional journaling and song writing. poetry is a unique and creative way of expressing your feeling and experiences. so give it a try and challenge your creative word play!
Record yourself sing ( just for you)
- now not everyone is a singer. but pisces placements are know to be very artist and many can sing so if you do, do it and record yourself. keep the video/audio for yourself. make a playlist of yourself for yourself and keep it for your future self.
Paint
- painting can seem intimidating, but it doesnât have to be. if u want to, just throw some color on a canvas and youâll see u donât have to be a professional to create a masterpiece. (or just watch some bob ross videos!đ¤ˇđ˝ââď¸)
Draw
- learning to draw is so cool. i can be alittle intimidating like painting but it doesnât have to be something thatâs intricate. start with something simple.
Take pictures
-take pictures of everything. romanticize your life. make it interesting and make it fun. time moves fast, you have to capture it.
Watch comedic tv
- when iâm feeling down, i like to watch light hearted tv. and more than likely i get a laugh or two out of it. laughing is good for the mind, body, and soul. and itâs a natural cure. so watch something funny!
Watch low stim tv shows
-watching low stimulation shows can help alleviate some anxiety and level your mood (especially at night!) my personal favorite is bobâs burgers but there are many other low stim shows.
donât copy/steal any of my work @divinewxrld Šď¸2025
#astrology#astrology observations#astro notes#astrology notes#pisces#12th house placements#pisces rising#12th house
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Challenge: New OC every day for a week Art Supply: Gel Pens Day: 1
Presenting... Mellidia! A kind herbalist who could hear whispers from the flowers and plants since she was a child. Curious to understand what they speak she sets on adventure to learn the language they whisper and the language apparently only she could hear ... and also to find cure to the growing cursed fungi on her arm u_u; (what's with me and cursed characters?) Little did she know she carries the reincarnated soul of the dreaded Queen of Decay and the whispers are the undead in her buried kingdom calling her to return. Will she return to become the tyrant queen from the ancient times once more... or will she overcome the curse and begin a new age of kindness to the buried kingdom?
It started as I'm going to draw a herbalist or alchemist or someone who deals with plants aaaand then I thought hmm mushrooms... and things escalated a little bit... :'D;;;
The gelly roll pens I have didn't really allow me much room for contrast but I enjoyed using what I got. I kept wishing I could shade while this medium is really not meant for shading buuuut I couldn't resist not splashing a bit of water here and there :D;; The real challenge was doing something in the short amount of time before work lol
Anyway, I really enjoyed this one! :D I started very unsure, my hand wasn't cooperating but I didn't want to think too much about the design and just go with whatever and think of the story while drawing her.
Hokay, day one done! Let's see what my brain will come up with tomorrow!
#My art#traditional art#gelly roll pens#New OC who dis#Thank you for stopping by :D#art challenge day 1#sorry for bad lighting ;u; it was night time...
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apothecary diaries anon again! sorry for replying late, the past few days were busy. đ
I ENCOURAGE READING THE MANGA, THERE ARE SO MANY GREAT EXPRESSIONS!! it's also great with mood whiplash scenes; one moment i can be fawning over how pretty the art is, the next i'm staring in awed silence at the dark parts of the story. like, the scene where maomao is at lihua/rifa's palace is AMAZING. (i totally get what you mean with manga too! i don't buy manga as much any more because digital tends to have better quality and is easier for me to read. plus, there's something about having a novel in my hands that doesn't compare to holding manga, if that makes sense?)
no problem; i'm glad to share the good news about the LN! i usually buy just the paperback and read that in bed because 1. comfy cosy vibes, and 2. easier on my eyes. (i also don't think it's weird; i've bought multiple copies of games over the years because i enjoy having access to it on different consoles (and enjoy modding them, in case of games on pc.))
agreed! the love triangle / having two people compete over a third person dynamic in isekai is just⌠awkward. especially in some manga/manhwa where it's obvious who the main couple is? it makes all the interactions so forced and usually leaves me either annoyed with the plot or the characters themselves (and not in the way the author probably intended). ngl, i am a lover of morally ambiguous male characters, but it's so weird how people condemn female characters for being rude, but the dudes all get 'oh, but he has â¨reasonsâ¨' or grasp at straws to justify it. even when the women also have reasons or backstories to explain why they do what they do?
i also get annoyed when i see the female lead get bashed in comments for not being 'strong enough' when usually the FL has either been abused, traumatised, or just?? cries because they've been through so much??? it's like the FL can only be praised if they're going through their struggles the 'right' way, and emotions aren't allowed. like, no! give me all the characters and their responses; give me the characters who repress their feelings AND the characters who wear their hearts on their sleeves!
let women support women! đđđ
unrelated to the above, i started ascendance of a bookworm! i was at chapter 13 and crying from lutz and myne's friendship + wanting otto's love and citizenship in a side story. then i read further and started crying for an entirely different reason and OW MY SOUL. currently up to chapter 26, i'm both proud of my kids and just want to hug them. (also, i love how they deal with myne having a weak body; i have issues with my own body, and it's nice to see it taken seriously and also not instantly cured via plot magic.)
hope sleep and work has been better for you!
Aaaaa sorry if this got buried in my notifs! I only saw this now after logging in to tumblr desktop!! YOU GET ME FR- đ¤I think it also has to do with its formatting?? Collecting manhwa is okay for me for certain series, but reading manga backwards is just really awkward. I can't get used to its physical formatting. Using the panels as reference for practicing art had been my goal buying manga and manhwa but I really just don't enjoy the drawing process. ;;v;; I think it also has to do with that lol. I love art but I get giddier and enjoy reading pretty words better!! I love reading in bed too but my optometrist scolded me for doing that cause it made my eyes really bad xD. I do still read in bed but not as much anymore cause of that ssh don't tell her /s
Right?? It's just so sad misogyny is still blatant in fiction. It's already happening irl and you can't even use fiction as escapism cause it's there too. :'( I like it when series write good characters. Ultimately for me, that's what how you can tell a writing is good; if they can separate that. That's why I love Apothecary Diaries; you fall in love with Maomao as a person. She's a great character who just happens to be a girl. You love her for who she is, and not because she's a woman, or the narrative tells you a bajillion times she is a "badass female protagonist so you should love her!!!" (which she is ofc but that's not the entirety of Maomao's personality. She's more than that!! And I love her for more than just that.) JgdghgjI I just love female friendships so much. I wish we have more in shoujo and series in general. I want platonic female friendships; sapphic relationships, all of them. I love women. Funny you mentioned that cause I wish people would stop seeing femininity as a weakness cause it's not!! It's really ironic seeing people say a female character is "strong" because she's physically strong and have masculine traits, but have no substance or character development beyond that. To strengthen my point above, a female character is a great character because she was a great character to begin with and does not depend on harmful stereotypes just so they can be written lazily as "female" (I hope I'm making sense).
I'm so happy you liked it! Bookworm is so well-written and incredibly detailed in worldbuilding, lore and character development it's almost intimidating! I love its realistic portrayal of human relationships and disability; of found family and loneliness. Its focus on the world and the people around it makes the characters a lot more...believable(?) Like you can feel that they have lives outside of their interactions with Myne. Myne is just a heartbeat of a human life trying to survive in the unfair caste system she is born in. assidfsf. Fr I feel like I'm Myne's parent; seeing her grow, seeing her achieve her dreams and be happy and live like a normal girl makes me cry. I really recommend reading the LN of part 2 especially the last volume. I bawled like a baby in one of the scenes. Her family is just so wholesome. ;;v;; Sorry for rambling. I love this series so much and I've been trying to hold back reading my backlog cause I know I would finish it in just a few days.
#can you tell i love honzuki/bookworm my blog theme in both mobile and pc is bookworm/honzuki for months now lol#ascendance of a bookworm#apothecary diaries#ask
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15, 17, 25
Ask game here
15. What's their biggest struggle now that everything is over?
FYI - This leads very well into the next question.
Iâm going to take a step back and talk a little about how we decided to characterize the nature of The Dark Urge, Bhaalspawn, and how Arthur feels about The Dark Urge. Shout out to my bestie of all time Claire for this, but we ended up drawing a good chunk of inspiration from Lucifier from John Miltonâs Paradise Lost.
When the Dark Urge defies Bhaal, and is freed from their urges by Withers, the game says durge has been freed from bhaalâs influence and cured of their urges. What exactly does this mean? Thereâs some small things in the game I could talk about (like the fact that the dwarf meat still heals durge post Bhaal rejection, and the fact that durge is still saying crazy durge lines walking around town (unsure if this is just muscle memory on durgeâs part (my favorite answer), a glitch, or whatever LOL)). But for the sake of what weâre doing we decided what is functionally happening here is Withers has severed Bhaalâs control over durgeâs soul, and durge can no longer be controlled by their father.
Does durge still have urges? Again, regardless of what the game says, weâre having our own fun, and we decided the answer isâŚ. Sort of! Arthur, after rejecting his father, is no longer subject or in danger of loosing consciousness/having his bodily autonomy revoked by his dad. But he is still âbiologicallyâ a bhaalspawn. He is still made of some kind of Same Stuff his father made him from, and still desires violence. Think of Arthur is kind of like a tiger walking around in a human skinsuit. He looks like a person but heâs motivated by some very different base desires.
Arthur and Karis at their core are men who desperately want to be themselves and be free to be themselves and be more and something else than their father made them to be. In falling from his fatherâs grace, Arthur is given a chance to remake himself and decide who he wants to be.
How he feels about this, after rejecting his father but still desiring violence and bloodshed isâŚ.. complicated. He still wants many of the things he wanted, but he doesnât have to worry about the danger of loosing control of himself if he indulges them. His first reaction is to just go crazy and indulge his urges. He hasnât been able to without fear of loosing himself and he wants to!!! But he starts to wonder if he just comes back around to behaving exactly in the way his father made him to behaveâŚ. Who does that make him? After this realization he swings hard to adopting a nonviolence approach to his life. It doesnât last forever, and Iâm not entirely sure how long it lasts, but he does learn important things about himself through it.
So to actually answer the question â dealing with his âurgesâ and what they now mean now that his actions are entirely his own is the thing he struggles with the most. It ties directly in with the fundemanetal question of âWho am Iâ, which is something thatâll change and grow and he will continue to ask himself over his whole life.
17. Was it worth it?
Arthur defying Bhaal is never a question. The real question for him is whether or not he was going to become the absolute. Weâre still working on the minutia of this decision, but he ends up not doing it because heâs not willing to betray his companions like that. He regrets not becoming the absolute for awhile, and thinks he should have tried harder to convince them that it would be a good plan.
It takes some time, and Iâm not entirely sure of the circumstances that bring him to this realization, but he does come around on this eventually. To be able to feel confident in this decision, he has to truly put his feud between himself and dad behind him and accept who he is. Arthur is someone, who even after amnesia and defying his father, has great difficulty in seeing any meaningful difference between him and Bhaal. Itâs something thatâs going to plague him for a long time, but in the mean time, he has his freedom, and as cheesy and improbable as it sounds, he has Astarion. Heâll get there eventually, and when he does, the answer will be yes.
25. What happened to a bunch of very peculiar weapons such as; the Fabricated Arbalest, the Stillmaker, Bloodthirst, Crimson Mischief, Ketherics Warhammer, all that fun stuff.
Going through these in order of emotional significance, and also throwing on one that isnât in this list â the deathstalker mantle.
Kethericâs warhammer â It didnât really mean anything to Arthur, and probably doesnât mean much to any of the other companions. In all honesty, unless someone called dibs on it, it was likely sold. I also have trouble imagining it had any particular significance to Karis. Thereâs some interesting parallels between Ketheric and Karis as two âgod shoppingâ paladins, but I donât think any of that would lead to the warhammer having emotional significance.
Fabricated Arablest âArthur thinks it is a beautiful weapon, but feels weird about it for reasons he doesnât entirely understand why. Iâd like to think Karlach got dibs on Gortashâs loot but also have trouble seeing her wanting any of it. Laeâzel likely takes it â after Karlach, she has the highest need for a powerful weapon like that (in Arthurâs play through, she returns to fight against Vlaakith). Arthur thinks Gortash is a disgusting person and it takes a long time for him to understand the totality of what his relationship was with Gortash before his memory loss. He thinks he was close to Gortash because he didnât have anyone else and Gortash is a manipulative fucko, and heâs not wrong about this, but there was a tiny part of him he loved. I donât know if he ever figures that out. So he mostly just feels weird about the weapon and wants nothing to do with it.
Stillmaker / Crimson Mischief â The second he gets them he flippantly gives them to Astarion and jokes about them being dowry gifts from his dad. As time goes on they become uncomfortable reminders of Orin, but at the end of the day theyâre Astarionâs daggers to him. Itâs his way of relinquishing his family history.
Sword of Chaos â This is the sword Karis uses through the end of act 3. The Sword of Chaos was Karisâ favorite weapon as bhaalâs chosen. It is technically Sarevokâs, but (because of reasons I wonât get into here) Karis *hated* Sarevok. In the timeline we established for Karis/Arthur, Karis takes Sarevokâs sword from him when he becomes the fully fledged chosen of Bhaal because he wants to put Sarevok in his place. Arthur takes it again from Sarevok when he kills him at the murder tribunal. Itâs one of the only relics of Bhaal that he keeps, because to him it represents his ability and will to subvert his fatherâs influence.
The Deathstalker mantle â This is by far the most significant of magical items tied up in his history with Bhaal. Ontop of that â itâs an item that is exclusively useful only if he is killing people (yeah yeah everything else is a WEAPON what else are they used for but roll with me here- non lethal damage exists! đ) Weâre still working out the details of what exactly post game looks like, but this ends up being another one of the relics he gives to Astarion, who makes a lot of use out of it. With time, it eventually becomes more of Astarionâs cape than his.
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first day at day-care
#after that the teacher came to calm them#not baby AU#if youre gonna ask about baby AU#i will NOT continue it because im too lazy#except if anyone will pay me#lol jk#really i dont want to continue baby AU comic because of personal reason#klance#keith#lance#voltron#my art#im really pent up today so i had to draw something cute to cure my tired soul
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How about something a bit angsty? Maybe hannibal getting some ptsd flashbacks and clarice comforting him or even the other way around?
Or if you're in the mood for something fluffier, them getting a dog for the first time? I feel like clarice would be a huge dog person lol
Cute as hell, thank u! Originally I went with the angst but then halfway through I realised I was basically rewriting this fic that already exists. Go read it if you havenât, itâs one of my favs and deals with his ptsd well.
Iâm incapable of writing short one-shots btw, so apologies.
(Word count: 2508)
She sits before the fire and she stares- or some version of her stares, rather.
And though it is not Clarice Starling, as he is familiar with her, who stares at the fire on these low days, that isnât to say he doesnât know exactly what she thinks and feels.
Hannibal Lecter himself admittedly used to seek physical warmth when visions of his past became overbearing. He supposed their histories were similar in that way- both tinged with frost. Him, then, wailing in the cold snow as Mischa was dragged from him and Clarice, then, tiptoeing across icy grass as she fled desperately from the cries of the pleading lambs.
But, although he understood on a fundamental level why she chose to sit before the fire in still silence when she struggled with what he could only consider ptsd, he still found himself unable to help her and that hurt beyond all else.
Heâd done his part in easing her struggle months ago- back whilst theyâd still been staying on the Chesapeake; her trauma had been an unresolved, gaping wound back then and heâd stitched her right up, yet old wounds itched sometimes and no amount of tender attention could ease that itch when it came. One simply had to wait it out; like a causeless fever.
Hannibal Lecter hated waiting it out. Sometimes Clariceâs emotional slumps could last days- or even weeks. And during those times she could be as cold and withdrawn as the dark memories that ensnared her; she wouldnât shy from his touch per se but she wouldn't welcome it either, and sheâd turn from him in the night, leaving him feeling remarkably alone on his side of their vast bed.
He observed her closely, that evening. More closely than usual.
He was reclined on the far end of the couch in the drawing room, nursing a cold snifter of whiskey, as she sat on the rug at his feet and watched the flames dance lower and lower in tandem with the setting sun. Her eyes seemed to be glazed over. It was as if her very soul had retreated within her, leaving her body to act as a crude puppet in the meantime. And, though he had access to most of her own personal memory palace, he could not reach her when she wandered into the recesses of her mind during these times.
He had a theory, however.
Itâd been forming for the last few days and the more he ruminated over it, the more plausible a cure it seemed. He was unable to help her during these periods of depression because sheâd become desensitized to him. They lived a fairly solitary life, the two of them, and that was fine for the most part but it was variety that Hannibal Lecter realized Starling needed occasionally, and he was cursing himself for not realizing it sooner.
Before heâd found his way into her life, sheâd kept her dark thoughts at bay by occupying herself with playing the role of the righteous hero. She helped people. She saved her lambs; lambs like Catherine Martin and Evalda Drumgoâs infant. As much as she occasionally enjoyed helping him, he was not a lamb and he did not suffice in calming those scarred parts of her psyche. And, although her wound had long healed and the urge to help people wasnât as insistent within her, it was during times such as these that he realized she needed this release more than ever.
So he decided heâd do just that. Heâd give her something to care for. Something smaller than herself; something that she didnât feel was constantly analyzing her, as he often found himself subconsciously doing.
He stood up from the couch, suddenly, and his frown deepened when she didnât so much as turn her head.
âClarice.â
She blinked, but no more.
âIâm going out, mi amor. Thereâs something I need to collect. Iâll be back shortly.â
Short simple sentences. He feared anything longer wouldnât reach her. She merely nodded once and he left her.
Hannibal Lecter chose their practical truck instead of the sleek mustang as he pulled out of the driveway, favoring its convenience in transporting cargo and also registering that the cargo he was planning on picking up would likely ruin their beautiful sportscar.
He wasnât an animal man, particularly, but that wasnât to say he disliked them. In fact, with the exception of Clarice, he would always favor the company of an animal over that of a human being.
Heâd put off the idea of pets for some time, for the notion of cleaning up animal waste didnât quite appeal to him and it seemed jarring in contrast to the fairly lavish lifestyle they were living, but Clarice needed somebody other than him to keep her company when her mental health took a dive.
And what better company than a dog?
It would be something new to occupy her. Some smaller being to care for to ease the frown lines between her brows when he was unable to. A dog wouldnât be able to speak back or overcomplicate things in any way. It would be something for her to simply hold when she wished for comfort without the sticky complications of human emotion and communication.
Because, to his dismay, he couldnât pretend to be able to fix any and all hardships she stumbled across. Something heâd learned quite recently and something he was realizing even more so as he shared his life with her was that people were, at times, utterly unreachable and unpredictable and trying to help Clarice when she was in these dark moods could occasionally be akin to digging around in a splinter and pushing it deeper. Even he, with his pure precision and infinite knowledge, could occasionally needle perhaps just a touch too much. So heâd get her something that could reach her. Something that wouldnât burden her with complicated concepts such as language and complex emotions.
And she liked dogs a lot, apparently. Sheâd mentioned her brief time with Pilcher to him, before, and had spoken more about dogs than she had about the poor bug doctor himself. Sheâd never been able to have one herself because work took her away from home too much. Times had changed, of course.
Hannibal Lecter preferred cats, admittedly, but heâd make the sacrifice. Cats seemed far less work and he fondly recalled the barn cat he'd had as a child who had chased the mice out of the stable often. Cats appeared to enjoy wandering off and looking after themselves which he appreciated, but heâd endure the overzealous loyalty of a dog for her and her only.
Heâd spotted one at the kennel some few weeks ago when the idea of buying Clarice a canine companion had first crossed his mind. If it was up to him, of course, heâd purchase from a reputable breeder but the entire purpose of taking this animal home was to nourish Clariceâs need to save something and sheâd much prefer a kennel dog with some baggage attached to it, he was sure.
He parked outside and entered, exchanging a brief word with the woman at the front desk who instantly recognised him, for so few upper-class men entered the little kennel that resided on the outskirts of Buenos Aires.
He followed the kindly woman through to the back and was pleased to see the dog heâd had his eye on was yet unclaimed. It was a shiny golden lab, at least one years of age, and full of spirited energy despite its unfairly docked tail and the fact that it was notably underweight. Apparently the creature had been found wandering the streets, abandoned. Itâd been checked for diseases; that heâd made sure of. All that was left was for him to take it home and feed the poor mutt enough to keep it happy and healthy. He was sure Clarice would be thrilled.
He paid the small fee, including a generous tip, and was then on his way.
There was a cage and a small assortment of necessary items such as food and bedding already stored in the back of the truck but the excitable creature simply would not stop yapping at his legs and so Hannibal eventually gave in and allowed it to settle on the passenger seat beside him.
He sat there for a moment, staring ruefully at the dog, breathing so heavily that its shiny chest heaved as its tongue lolled from between its chops and dripped saliva on his nice leather.
âSit,â he said simply, testing it. The dog continued to bounce from paw to paw and beat at the door with its heavy tail. He frowned and tried again.
âSiĂŠntate,â he tried.
The dog instantly planted its wagging behind down immediately and panted expectantly. Hannibal Lecter pursed his lips in satisfaction and then remembered the bag of treats heâd picked up, opening it and throwing one to the mutt. It caught it excitedly and then lay down on the seat to gnaw at the morsel of beef.
And with that, he started the truck and made his way home, wondering at which point heâd become the sort of person to buy a dog for his lover purely because she was feeling a little under the weather.
âŚ
Clarice heard the familiar chug of their truck pulling up and winced, having felt remarkably guilty when Hannibal had up and left so suddenly just an hour ago. His tone had seemed clipped. She figured he was upset with her. It wasnât the first time sheâd found herself struggling with her own frustratingly damaged mind and he was often good at knowing what to do - namely, letting her be alone to work it out of her system - but sheâd been out of sorts for longer this time and she couldnât blame him for getting fed up with her.
She hadnât moved from her nest on the carpet. She was a little tipsy, too. Heâd left his glass of whisky unfinished and sheâd saved him the trouble. She realized how pathetic she mustâve looked then and, with a small shudder like the final breath of a dying bird, she sat up and attempted to straighten herself out.
She stood, preparing to meet him when he came in the room so she could apologize for her poor disposition, but frowned when she heard something strange.
Sheâd heard the door close just down the hallway but it wasnât one set of footsteps she could hear as she listened to him set down his bags and tuck the keys away. There was something else, too- a padding sound followed by strange clicks like something tapping on the wood of their flooring.
âHannibal?â She called out; the first fully-formed word sheâd spoken in days. Her throat was a little sore from disuse.
He didnât reply but she did hear him approach, followed by that strange clicking.
Fear of the unknown gripped Clarice for a moment, then, and she braced herself as she watched the door to the drawing room open, unsure as to what he had with him and whether or not his patience with her had finally reached its end after so many happy months together.
And then her sudden trepidation left her as swiftly as it had come, as she was immediately accosted by a blur of calf-high golden fluff. She fell back onto the couch, still a little unstable in her poor state, and the ball of energy wasted no time in jumping up and lathering her face with its tongue, its short tail beating a frantic pattern against her legs as it climbed atop her in a frenzy of excitement.
âOh my God.â Another few well-placed licks to the face. She managed to get her hands under herself and sat up with some effort, pushing the bounding animal off of her enough so that she could catch her breath and run her hands properly through the tangle of golden floss.
And then she looked up at Hannibal, who had entered the room and seemed immensely pleased with himself, watching the pair of them bond.
The little beast positively collapsed when she began to scratch under its ears and she hit a spot of satisfaction. It rolled onto its back, pale belly up and tongue lolling out like something from a cartoon. Starling felt tears spring in her eyes, unable to handle the wave of emotion that had befallen her.
âI thought you hated dogs,â was all she said- no thanks needed- for Hannibal could see all too clearly the glee that had seized her. Quite frankly, he was just glad she was talking to him at all. Heâd missed the twang in her voice.
He smiled and came to rest carefully beside her, reaching out and joining her in petting the excitable puppy, although a little less enthusiastically. âIâve said no such thing,â he hummed. âMerely that Iâm not overly keen on them. Hate is a strong word.â
Starling bit her lip, fending off tears as she looked back down and continued to scratch away. Now on its back, Clarice could see the puppy was male. âDoes he have a name?â
âNot yet. I thought Iâd leave that liberty up to you. Heâs yours, after all.â
âYou mean ours.â
A shake of the head. âNo. Yours. I thought you could use a friend, Clarice. Somebody other than myself, that is.â A small smile, then. âI realize there are times that you need your own company, but I canât have you aimlessly staring at the fire, hardly eating, for days on end.â
âHannibalâŚâ
âOf course, him being yours does mean youâll have to clean up after himâŚâ
She smiled ruefully, then- some of her usual light finding its way back into her face. âI expected no less.â
âHeâs a kennel mutt. A little underweight, Iâm sure youâve noticed.â A slight tilt of the head. âHe needs some love, Clarice. And what better person, hmm?â
His intention for the unexpected gift became clear, suddenly, and Starling felt her chest throb with a strong emotion for which she had no name. The panting dog was forgotten for a moment as she quickly closed the space on the couch and hugged him for the first time in days, which he received gladly- even as he felt a muffled sob wrack her body.
He held her tight, until their moment of peace was interrupted by the pup worming his cold, wet nose in between them; clearly the puppy felt left out. Hannibal Lecter resigned himself to the fact that their solitary life would now be shared by a third companion, although the bright grin on Clariceâs face as the beast clambered onto his lap to lick at her nose eased his crotchetiness.
âHeâs gorgeous.â She fussed at him, still smiling. âSo he has no name?â
âNo, though I suggest you pick one soon so I have some sort of title by which to scold him.â
âYouâll do no such thing,â Clarice shot him a look as she babied the pup, and then hummed thoughtfully. âWhat was that old horse you told me about? The one you had as a kid.â
Hannibal raised a brow, surprised at the niche memory. âCaesar?â
âYeah, that was it.â She grinned down at the noble, wagging little ball of energy and seemed to preen as she addressed him. âCaesar.â
#clannibal#silence of the lambs#thomas harris#cheesy corny self indulgent bullshit#thanks for the req and the excuse to brainrot-post#I am a dog person to the grave
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Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaulâs not interested in your soul.
A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? HahahaâŚanywayâŚ
@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworksâif itâs not too late, hereâs my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!
Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that itâs not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichĂŠs, Overhaul calls you âlittle girlâ đđ
He doesnât look like a demon.
Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. ButâŚred skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, thatâs the Disney versionâbut even if you didnât expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didnât expect this.
He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, heâs a little young to really look like a doctorâŚan intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.
Overhaul. It was written in the book. Thatâs the only thing you have to call him in your head.
Heâs standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyedâthatâs not a good sign, is it?âbut then again, of course heâs annoyed. Youâd be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, youâre lucky he even showed upâŚalthough âluckyâ isnât really how youâd describe yourself most days.
âSo,â Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice youâve made in your relatively short life. âYouâre dying.â
You nod.
âAnd you donât want to be.â
You nod again, wondering if youâre supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. Itâs a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like youâve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.
âFine.â He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yoursâand you shiver.
Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.
âMake me an offer,â Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.
Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it werenât obvious enough that youâre terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. Heâs giving you a chance to establish parameters. Youâre supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. Thatâs what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.
Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in âContrat pour RemĂŠdier au DĂŠsĂŠquilibre des Quatre Humeursâ, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ânameâ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.
âLe Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtitââ Overhaul?
You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.
âGirl.â His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. âDo not test me. My time is limitedâŚas is yours.â
You swallow. âHow long do I have left?â
âLess than a single human year,â he tells you without a trace of sympathy. âSeven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. Youâll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six⌠By the end, youâll wishââ
âStop,â you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. âStop, IâI want to live.â
âOf course you do.â Overhaulâs lip curls. âHow very predictable.â
Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the manâthe demonâin front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didnât turn your back on your religionâyou didnât draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. âI want to be cured. Iâm okay with whatever natural death I have instead when Iâm older, I just donât want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.â
âSimple enough. What else?â
âSimpleâ? Your heart surges with something youâve felt very little of since your initial diagnosisâhope. âT-Thatâs it. Just the cure.â
Overhaul glares at you. âHumans⌠Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.â
âBut you can do it? You can cure me?â you persist.
Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bedâyou hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.
Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like youâre scared the contact will burn you. It doesnât (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.
âOw?â You wince.
The demonâs eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like heâs talking to himselfâand then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. âYou could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.â
He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. Youâve lived with this illness for so many years, you canât remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job orâor apply to college, you could have a lifeâ
âThat isâŚassuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.â
Your stomach drops. Youâd almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.
âDonât tell me I came all this way for nothing.â Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look naturalâso organically framing his temples that you canât imagine him without them.
âN-No, of course not. I have some moneyâI mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for youâŚâ Which is half the truth. If you know anything, itâs that your motherâs spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right nowâyouâd try to get rid of that, too, if you hadnât read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.
âŚAlthough itâs apparently not enough. Overhaulâs eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. âEven if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?â
âNoâno,â you say quickly. âI just thoughtâin case you were interestedââ
The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. âI am not.â
âOkay! I get it.â You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but thatâs easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard partâall the stories say thereâs only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know youâd rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. âIâll give you anything except my soul! Andâand donât hurt anyone I care about, orâ just donât hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if thereâs anything I can give you, I will.â
Overhaulâs lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. âAnd is your soul really so valuable?â
This throws you for a loop. Isnât that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? Thatâs how itâs supposed to workâat least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesnât really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You canât form an argument, especially since youâre not willing to barter it away in the first place.
Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesnât seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. âLittle girlâŚwhat makes you think you possess anything I desire?â
Little girl. Youâre not a little girl, youâre a grown womanâand yet thereâs no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that youâre not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice youâre not willing to make.
You twist your ring around your fingerâthe nervous habit you havenât bothered to break because youâve always had more important things to worry aboutâand the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaulâs eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. âWhat is this?â
âItâsâum, a ring. A purity ring.â Has he never seen one before? WellâŚactually, that makes sense.
Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. Heâs looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. âMatthew 5:8,â he reads out.
ââŚBlessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,â you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you canât help yourself.
Overhaulâs hand doesnât leave yours. âThis ring is important to you.â
âItâs a symbol of aâa promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.â
âTo âsave yourselfâ? To save what?â
You canât believe youâre explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. âMyâŚvirginity. Itâs a promise that I wonât have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.â
At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, youâd be lying if you said you havenât wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.
Heâs still staring at the ring. He hasnât touched itâmaybe he canât, because of the cross?âand through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a humanâs is supposed to be.
âIs thereâŚâ you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and youâre surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didnât think heâd let you go so easily.
Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. âThis will do,â he says quietly.
âWhat?â
âIn exchange for your cure.â The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? Itâs just a simple silver band, not worth much, but youâre not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry youâve lost it, but youâre happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!
âYes!â you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, youâll miss the purity ringâyouâve had it since you were a kid, after allâbut thereâs no question youâre getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.
Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you donât even want to try and identify. âThe contract, then.â
You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that itâs practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red likeâdonât think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or thereâFrench, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.
âI canât read this,â you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.
âI only need your name,â he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. Thereâs an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaulâs gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.
This feels wrongâŚthen again, of course it does. Even if youâre getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, youâre still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, havenât they? Itâs just a ring.
You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a momentâand then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as itâs supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).
âAre you going to cureâheal me now?â you ask.
ââŚPatience, little girl.â Heâs pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek andâ
you stop breathing.
It doesnât hurt.
Or if it does, you donât remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. Youâre surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: itâs like youâve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth itâs laughter that comes out. Youâre healthy. Youâre alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.
No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, thereâs not a shred of doubt in your mind that youâre cured.
âThank you!â you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that heâs evil incarnate. âI feelâIâm okay! It worked!â
âOf course it did.â His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.
You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energyâyou want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if thatâs what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaulâs pushing you back down onto the bed.
âHave you forgotten your end of the bargain already?â
Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. âOh, yeah. Of course.â Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.
âNot here.â
âWhatâ?â
Youâre falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and youâre falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaulâs still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to screamâthatâs the sane thing to do when youâre falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?âbut when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light wasâŚ
Overhaulâs hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as youâve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if youâve been lain down onto it.
Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasnât quite accepted yet that itâs not falling anymoreâbut at the same time, you know youâre lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaulâs arm and feel around blindly for whatâs underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.
Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. Itâs raining (even though it wasnât in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass thereâs enough oily blue light to make out that youâre in a church.
Youâre in a church, with a demon. Isnât that against the rules?
You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, whoâs standing at your side and looking down at youâŚwhich is how you realize the soft, cold surface youâve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. âWhere...did you take me?â
âYou should know this place.â
And you do, when you look around. Itâs empty now and youâve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldnât risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vowâŚthe ring feels heavy on your hand. âWhyâwhyââ
âI canât stand human hospitals. Filthy places⌠How that reek of illness and death doesnât bother your kind, Iâll never understand.â Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. Heâs dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctorâblack shirt, black pants, and aâŚbird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, youâre in a gauzy white dress thatâs already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.
The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. âWhy did you take me here?â The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadnât spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.
âI told you. Your side of our contract.â Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentratingâon you. âAre you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thingâŚâ
âYou mean the ring?â You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if thatâs what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.
âNot the ring,â he says. âThe promise.â
TheâŚpromise?
A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demonâs body and onto yours. âI donât understand.â
âThe promise,â Overhaul repeatsâand you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then heâs on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. âTo remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.â
A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellowâŚand then itâs dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaulâs eyes.
âIâm going to break it,â he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.
///
MÊfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.
Of course it wasnât just a ring.
Overhaulâs fingers are inâinside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasnât bothered to take his gloves offânot that you asked. Youâve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. Heâs bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your faceâŚuntil he yanks your arm back and stops.
âLook at me.â
Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaulâs fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.
âLook at me.â
And youâre not sure whether itâs some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you canât refuse him. You crack your eyes open and heâs glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once heâs satisfied that youâre watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of youâa spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like youâve been shockedâ heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.
âWaitâwait, thatâsâit feelsâweird!â Youâve never felt like this before. Youâre not supposed to feel like this, itâs wrong.
âI understand youâve never touched yourself, but donât pretend you donât like it.â Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.
He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussyâyour clit?âand you want to scream. âNo, IâI donâtânnhh...â
Do you like it? The demonâs body is so hot next to yours, like heâs running a fever except youâre the one going out of your mind⌠Youâve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that itâs like having something to drink when youâre dying of thirst; or that itâs the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of thatâs a fucking lie. Thereâs nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesnât make senseâyou donât even want him to keep going, do you? Youâre only doing this because you signed your name on a devilâs contract, because you donât want to die and thereâs no alternativeâŚbut that doesnât explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why youâre squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isnât right. You feel like youâve been lied to.
A good girl wouldnât like this.
Overhaul isnât going to let you close your eyes, so you donâtâbut the sounds coming out of your mouth are soâŚindecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of itâŚ
âLet your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.â
Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demonâ âOh, uhhhnâsomething, itâsâcomingââ Thereâs something building up in your coreâa peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight youâre surprised the thin fabric hasnât torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you donât have any to express what your body is asking forâŚ
But he doesnât give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edgeâalmost. Not quite. And without it, youâre left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon wonât do it.
Youâre not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaulâs dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his⌠Heâs already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you canât bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.
âThis will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,â he says, and you donât even understand at first until you make yourself feel itâhis cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to beâŚ
And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isnât, itâs lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?
Itâll hurt, you know that, youâve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girlsâŚwomen. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.
âI said look,â the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. âWatch me take your virginityâŚlook at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.â
âN-Noââ you whine, even though itâs not like you can ignore it. âDonât make me, donât make me look, I canâtââ
âThen look at me.â
Itâs what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but youâre lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaulâs eyes are half-lidded and itâs hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face isâŚpleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.
Maybe because itâs a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.
Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. Youâre almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like itâs too big too deep too much and itâs the first time youâve felt like your body wasnât created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.
âDoes it hurt?â
A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, Iâm losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breathâs being pushed out of your lungs. âYes! Yes, itâit hurtsââ
âI can make you enjoy itâŚfor a price,â he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.
And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he saysâbut youâd rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because youâre still too afraid to look away from him, you donât miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. âI donâtâI donât want toâlike it,â you gasp out between thrusts. âItâs better ifâif it h-hurtsâŚâ
This time itâs obviousâhis eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Whoâs predictable now? you thinkâand then heâs lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you donât even have time to be afraid of what heâs going to do to you because itâs too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of youâ
and it doesnât hurt anymore?
You only have a second to try and understandâhe cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?âbefore he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. Itâs sickâthe sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you canât hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what heâs doing to you. âWhatâwhat did you doââ
The demon ignores you. âIt feels good, doesnât it.â
âNnââ Itâs deeper like thisâŚdeeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the painâs been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everythingâhis cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block outâ he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. âPleaseâah, ahhhâŚâ
ââPlease?â Are you beggingâme, little girl?â Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.
You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you canât. Youâre aâyou were a virgin, for fuckâs sake! Overhaulâs immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like youâre only alive in the places he touches you⌠Youâre at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.
âThen are you begging your god?â His body lowers directly onto yours and like youâre being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. âIt must hurt terriblyâŚto know he isnât listening.â
âDonâtâstop, please,â you sob. âDonât sayâdonât stopâplease!â
âListen to yourself, girlââ Overhaulâs breath is faster now, but you donât have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. âHas he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuckâwhoâs the one giving you what you need?â
âNoâ please, please just let me let me, pleaseââ Youâre talking nonsense now, begging for the releaseâat least then itâll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaulâs back.
âGood girl,â the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so heâs kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everythingâs so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesnât let you cum right now, right now, right now!
And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaulâs fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you canât even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.
You didnât know it was like this.
Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didnât think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment andâoh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that iâve never felt like thisâyou understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:
because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?
///
It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body youâre in your hospital bed. Youâre clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or noâŚhe probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. Youâre not really sure how it works.
What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. Youâre sore in places that you didnât know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You donât really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently yourâŚordeal (if you can call it that) isnât over.
Overhaulâs still here.
Heâs facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeonâs mask. âYouâre awake,â he says without looking at you.
You nod hesitantly. Youâre not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least youâve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, youâre still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. âYouâreâŚgoing to leave, right?â
âYesââ
At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.
âBut thereâs one more thing you owe me.â
âGoddamnit,â you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lordâs name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.
Overhaulâs mildly irritated expression doesnât change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be overâyou want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point youâre just going to have to hope God isnât as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.
So you put your hand in Overhaulâs.
Slowly, carefully, like heâs afraid itâll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once heâs satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.
Itâs over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. âAhâow, what was that?â
He burned you, he literally burned you! Heâs already healed it, but thereâs still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.
When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sitâand even though your conscious mind doesnât recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. Itâs the devilâs mark, you think. Itâs his.
ââŚA promise,â Overhaul says softly, and even though itâs a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.
#overhaul x reader#chisaki kai x reader#bnha x reader#bnha imagines#mha imagines#tw dubcon#tw sacrilege#tw christianity#overhaul#chisaki kai#bnha#mha#boku no hero academia x reader#boku no hero imagines#my hero academia x reader#my hero imagines#boku no hero fanfic#smut
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Yandere Muzan x Reader

I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors, also for my crappy writing I hope It does not bore you lol. Slight mention of gore
It was the time of summer
A multitude of people hovering over one another in the vast space of the lively Asakusa city occupying the streets like tiny ants. Unfortunately it was same monotonous sight for kibutsuji Muzan progenitor of the morbid demon race, who seems to be roaming around uninterestingly looking for a suitable prey to hunt. The fleeting lives of mortals, their compassion, happiness, sorrow, pain held no value to him. They are pests who belong in the dirt or beneath his feet, inferior compare to a perfect being like himself. Nothing more than a tool that he won't hesitate to discard after his desires are fulfilled. All of a sudden his gaze felt upon a petite figure near a tailor shop, a large number of people gathering around her.
What's the matter, mister? Muzan inquired to a man next to him.
"if you are new definitely try her kimonos, now make way" the man said quickly as he rushed to the shop pushing all the people away. He was interested to know what the deal was about so he decided to stay for a while hoping it's worth the wait.
After a long delay muzan finally got the chance to view the women. As their eyes locked the dazzling city lights broader than the day itself felt dull in comparison for a moment, the once monochromatic world seems to change vibrantly with her luminous presence, As if goddess Amaterasu, the diety of sun herself have ascended from the heaven into the mortal realm. The demon lord stood there mesmerized by her breathtaking beauty, how can someone so close to perfection exist alongside those barbarians.
"How can I help you mister?" She questioned politely with her soft vocal. His endless thoughts were interrupted breaking the silence.
"Show me your kimonos"
And so his obsession started..
Days passed since his last encounter with the woman. He have come across numerous marvelous humans in everlasting lengthy life but never have his ruby eyes caught a glimpse of someone as alluring as her. The girl possesses an unique aura that differentiated her from the rest of the crowd, able to draw attention from the cold hearted creator of cannibalistic demons. At first muzan was just curious to know about that woman, possibly persuade her to become one of his underling because of the potentials she may carry. He frequently begun to visit her shop to but or sew different fabrics. Gaining basic information, like her name, likes and dislikes, etc. Her grandfather owned the tailor shop which sold finest quality garments from the beginning and were highly respected for their excellent tailoring. Continued by (y/n) at her family's will, who runs the shop with equal undying devotion.
She treated him with such kindness even though he was a ruthless demon not that she knew about it or let alone the existence of demons. The deepest corner of his dark heart illuminated with pure light whenever she was around and he came to the conclusion that she was the ray of sunshine he desires to perceive. Eversince he was cured from his fatal illness the only goal in his life was to conquer the sun which prevents him to achieve absolute perfection, in order to live an eternal and indestructible life or so he thought until that very day his eyes laid upon you. It would be stupid to think that demons are capable of experiencing love, concepts of feelings are completely foreign in their conciousness, it was more like obsession. His megalomania makes him believe he needs you no he wants you.
Alas, if only it was a fairytale. The king does not always gets what he desires and same goes for the demon lord when he finds out that his beloved darling already has a lover. As he witnessed the sight of you hugging your partner with passion. The way her eyes flutter infront of him when he caresses her cheeks making her turn away bashfully and how she hold his hand with her delicate ones while exchanging vows of love and loyalty towards each other made his blood boiled with fury. If anyone who can hold her fragile frame is none other but the demon lord himself yet there she was sharing intimacy with some filthy creature. His narcissistic self was put down with a lowlife, he cannot accept that his (y/n) was claimed someone else's. It was something he would never allow to happen.
"Kibutsuji san would you like to buy something today as well?" The women who now acknowledge his presence asked him cheerfully.
"Should I visit you later" a force smile graced on his pale features.
"Oh no, it's fine, let me introduce you to my fiancee" she said excitedly.
"Nice to meet you kibutsuji san" your fiancee said
"Pleasure to meet you as well" The demon scoffed under his breath but Kibutsuji was quite adamant he knew it was not hard to turn the tables anytime sooner as with a blink of an eye he can get rid of him by simply ordering his underlings without even hesitating to dirty his hands exclusive for his precious darling. But that was not what muzan was planning to do at all as his mind was engulfed with much sinister thoughts.
To insanity?
"You have been restless for a long time, what's wrong my child?" A man asked with a look of concern written all over his face looking straight at the figure of an anxious woman roaming around impatiently within the house.
"Its been a week father since he last wrote a letter to him" she mumbled softly disappointment painted across her features. The father could not help but laugh a little by her daughter's remark.
"Father please it is serious"
"I am sorry sweetheart but it might be that your fiancee is busy with wedding preparation" which made sense because the wedding would be taking place after three day and it was obvious that he was caught up with the arrangement. However there was a strange feeling inside her stomach which made her believe otherwise.
As the days passed the wedding day came close, with (y/n) still not receiving any message from her lover. Worried her to the core at this point all she wanted was to make sure of his safety as something constantly felt off. The guests came in one by one for the wedding ceremony but there was no sign of the groom.
It was getting unbearable for her to remain confined. Ignoring her father's request to stay inside she went outside in hope to check whether or not her lover was approaching but once again she was greeted with emptiness. Her eyes swell up with tears forming on both corners allowing her body to slowly hit the surface as she convinced herself that her lover will never come. The worst was yet to happen and before she could make any movement the ground beneath her feet started shaking and a shoji door opened consuming her into the darkness.
It was just the start of her miserable life under the demon's control.
"So you are finally awake", a sudden voice came echoing into her eyes as she slowly opened her eyes after regaining her consciousness. She moved her hands upwards in order to ease the headache only to find her hands tied up with shackles, a chilling sensation of overwhelming fear filled her entire senses as she remembered what happened prior.
"Where am I? Why am I chained?" Who are you?" she demanded furiously at the mysterious figure infront her which was now advancing at her direction from the dark corner of the dimly litted room.
"You are quite an impatient one?" The man gripped her chin roughly as her eyes protruded out with bewilderment.
"Can't even remember your daily customer?" A wicked smile curved across his countenance.
"K..Kibutsuji san" she parted her lips. Tears forming in her eyes once again. This made muzan even more irritated as he tightened his grip on her chin. (Y/n) whimpered with pain crying out loud.
"Your shouting won't help dear nobody apart from me can hear you scream" he said bluntly with his cold apathetic voice.
"Why?" (Y/n) lowered her head down holding his hand with her delicate ones trying her best to get a hold of him.
"Pardon?" Muzan inquired as he stared at your quivering form with his souless eyes there was no empathy in them or whatsoever although he felt pity. He cannot deny the fact that he was indeed attracted to her that's the reason why he put her into so much hassles.
"Where is my lover?" She asked sternly with her voice shaking a bit.
"Oh" muzan responded his hand still holding her chin tightly. This made her even more anxious she was unaware of the power he might possess and definitely she didn't had any intentions to risk her life.
"Why can't you humans move on and accept circumstances given before you?" it startled her as she cannot process what he meant.
"I don't.. u..understand" she said.
"Then you have to learn to accept me as your partner" muzan replied coldly (y/n) sat there looking at him with disbelief her heart and soul belonged to someone else and for a long time they have been together it's absolutely impossible to change the reality she was accustomed with just because some maniac wants to make her his partner.
"I can never" she murmured with disgust hinted in her voice. "I love him" throwing daggers in his direction not ready to submit her futile attempts of protest should pissed the demon lord even more but to her surprise she saw him smiling menacingly and in the corner of her eyes she saw the figure of her debilitate lover.
"Start from his fingers" muzan ordered one of his subordinate as they began chopping one of his finger making him scream in pain.
"No! please don't hurt him" trying to break free from the shackles she was tied with realizing it was fruitless she fell on the demon's knee begging with all the strength left within her in a last desperate attempt.
"You left me with no other choice, dear" he explained playing his sick games of manipulation on her. This was exactly what he needed to break her mind and she cannot help but rely on him pleading for his forgiveness feeding on his massive ego providing him ultimate satisfaction to witness the quivering frame of his darling clinging onto his knee in pure submission.
"Please I will do anything you say" she requested shaking like crazy.
"Anything?" Muzan questioned raising his eyebrow
"Yes" she replied without any hesitation.
"Be mine"
She already knew that he wanted this and she readily obliged in order to save her beloved, sacrificing her own life. Her only purpose was now to satisfy the demon lord, he was successful until the very end and it won't take long to make her completely his.
#kimetsu no yaiba#kny muzan#muzan kibutsuji#demon lord#demon slayer#demon#muzan kibutsuji x reader#kimetsu no yaiba muzan#muzan x reader#anime
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beatles harmonies that cured my depression.
It is important that i discuss this. Well, not really important I just really wanted to share. This is in no particular order either it's just the ones that come to the top of my head lol. Feel free to reblog and share your own đ
1. The "Woahoooah AHHHHH" from When I Get Home.
Not even words can describe the battery power that starts coursing through my veins when I hear this harmony. I cant even,....LIKE HELLO??? i have never heard such a blessing... Such a well-fitting triplet of voices singing a vowel thats made me feel like i can run 10 miles straight. They aren't real. The Beatles, of course. To this day I don't understand how this harmony exists in this universe. My ears melt everytime. One of my favorites, in case you couldn't tell.
2. The obvious.. "yeah yeah yeah YEAHH" from She Loves You :)
LET ME TELL YOU. oh my god let me tell yo u .. Way back when, when I was a new fan... Good lord. I was literally ascending. ASCENDING. i felt every inch of my body start to lift off the ground. Im sure im not the only one who's experienced this. I remember thinking 'how the wiggle wubble do 3 men sound so GOOD TOGETHER' IT DOES NOT ADD UP PEOPLE THE BEATLES HAVE TO BE SOME SORT OF ROBOTIC BOY BAND GROWN IN A LAB THIS ISNT POSSIBLE how do we live on the same dimensional plane that this harmony lives on..
3. "The magical mystery tour, is coming to take you away, Coming to take you away!" from Magical Mystery Tour.
...
guys. Guys you dont understand. This one line, adds, YEARS. LITERAL YEARS TO MY LIFE SPAN. At this point I am fully immortal. The "coming to take you awayyy" makes my heart POUND. i love this song so much... And this line especially... It makes me go insane. Basically the beatles are manic melody genuises that have successfully spread one of the biggest diseases in musical history. Personally, I think this line was a clear example of why.
4. "Last night I said these words to my girl", "Please pleaase me, oh yeah, like i please you...", "...With you! Oh yeah, why do you make me blue" from Please Please Me.
do i even have to say anything. Well, i dont but i will for the sake of the post. There is so much. So much. About this song that I. I cant even,,. I would choose this song over SO MANY BEATLES SONGS DUDE. not that its cause i think its better than all the others but it just holds such a special place in my heart. Its the only song thats Ever made me feel some intense wave of nostalgia for a decade i wasnt even born in. Its one of the songs that continue to make me question the beatles existance. How could something like this ever come to reality. My brain has never been so pleased in its life.
5. "Carve your number on my wall and maybe you will get a call from me" from If I Needed Someone.
The way that this song was added into my Liked playlist SO QUICKLY...... God. I love george. Hes my favorite after all. Rubber Soul as a whole makes me feel warm inside but this song and this one line just hits so much more intensely for some reason... Their voices just flow insanely well and I just DONT UNDERSTAND HOW. its like an angel choir making its way through the clouds as you see the gate to heaven start to appear. Wonderful song and mind-blowing harmony... The beat is so good too and i just explode.
6. The "ahhhhh Ahhhhh AHhhhh *inhale* AHHHhhhh AHHHHH *inhale* AHHHHHH" from Day Tripper.
HOLY JESUS CHIRST THIS SONG HAS SO MUCH TO UNPACK... There are undeniably A BUNCH of other flawless harmonies in this song but my god the beatles knew what they were doing. Thats all I'm going to say really.... But once again. Power. In my veins. A few listens to this song and you'll find yourself having the strength of 1,000 men.
7. "Oh, now", "All I want is you" from Dig a Pony.
FIRST LYRIC... ITS LITERALLY 2 WORDS AND YET IT CONTINUES TO BLOW MY MIND. Something about the "Oh" ...... Its like an arrow passing through my heart I dont even know guys. Im not lying when I say it makes me feel like im floating. It makes me feel like i can quite literally grow wings and fling myself towards the sun. Dont even get me started on "All I want is you".......it literally triples the effect. It makes me go ballistic. The song is just mindless lyrics but the harmonieeesss.....
8. "Ah girlll.... *inhaeahelrlsseeesh* Girrll...." from Girl.
no words. Like. No words. I cant even. I seriously dont need to explain this one. Im just going to drop the isolated vocals version because if you havent listened to it you are MISSING OUT... you thought the originally recorded song was the greatest cause of your heart palpitations? Well you thought WRONG.
THIS IS.
youtube
9. "I love youwoowooowoowoooo...", "ask me WHYY..", "I can't believe.. Its happened to MEeee", "i cant concieve *doo doo doo do doo* of anymore *dun dun dun* MISERY" from Ask Me Why.
GOD OK LISTEN im just gonna say this now i absolutely adore and favor the please please me album so much i dont care what anyone says ok im such a sucker for their early sappy love songs ITS SO MANY GOOD HARMONIES ESPECIALLY FROM THIS ONE. MY GOD i listen to this and i feel like im with a lover late at night and we're like at one or the others house keeping each other warm and being all romantic and happy. Specifically the part that goes "ask me whyy I say i love you.. (OOOOHHHOOOO) and im always thinking of youuhoohohoo..." LIKE COME ON PLEAEE IT MAKES ME FEEL SO WARM INSIDE AND I SMILE IN AN INSTANT GOD I LOVE THIS SONG SO MUCH. Whenever i think im sad i go "no im not because Please Please Me." And its like all the sudden everything im sad about just poof disappears!
10. "If theres anything that you want.. IF THERES ANYTHING I CAN DOOOO" from From Me To You.
I am so in love with this song you guys i have no idea I LOVE IT SO MUCH. IT HAS THIS LITTLE SWING TO IT SPECIFICALLY BETWEEN THESE 2 LINES THAT MY BRAIN SEEKS FOR NEARLY EVERY DAY. the amount of blessing i get from this song is more than i can comprehend its literally insane i cant even. How does someone do this how did the beatles make music guys I am seriously so dumbfounded like they just sat there and wrote banger after banger like WHAT. this song makes me believe that life isnt as horrible as it seems and if im lucky enough i can just sing and dance to this song for all of eternity. There are also so many other good harmonies in this one as well...
---
In conclusion the beatles have had a chokehold on me for 3 years but I mean their stupid groundbreaking songs keep drawing me back in so.... This has also made me come to the conclusion that the Beatles simply arent real because I still dont believe a band can not only write consistent hits, but also harmonize in a way that causes me to spin around while doing backflips.
Thank you for your time.
#these arent even all the songs..#i just didnt want this post to get too long đ#perhaps in the future i'll reblog this one and continue with my list#if you read this whole thing#well#congrats!#and thank you!#i know im not the only one who feels this way though#theres absolutely no way#hello bee-ahtle community#beatles#the beatles#beatles songs
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I know you love Electraboose, so what abt all of the otp questions for them?
OH BOY MY LOVES
1) What's their love language?
Electra shows how much he loves/cares about someone through gift giving. He doesn't know how to express his feelings in any other way, so he hopes that the other person will understand the thought and effort he puts behind the gifts he gives. But Electra does prefer others to show him they love him through quality time spent together. He and CB hang out all the time, even before they started dating, so that's never something he has to beg for.
CB however, shows others he loves them with little handmade trinkets, drawings, etc. He's a "I found this thing that reminded me of you, so here!" He loves Electra showing him that he loves him with physical affection. The boy is touch starved.
2) Who confesses first?
Electra, for sure. He can't hold back his feelings (or urge to fuck CB) for much longer. He confesses, at the expense of short circuiting because he cannot handle the Big Emotionâ˘
3) Who plans the dates?
Electra, since he has tons of ideas on places to take CB. Unfortunately, a lot of these places are high class and fancy, so Electra has to give CB a crash course in professional behaviorism. Regardless, Electra still takes him to fancy restaurants, galas, dancing, etc. Electra secretly loves seeing CB all dressed up and fancy. Even if CB can be less than enthused at the change of environment.
There are a few times where CB invites Lex out to small, simple dates like scouring a Walmart late at night or watching the sunrise/sunset. He takes small pleasures at the simpler things in life.
4) Who's the better driver.
CB, and let me tell you why. He has to be very meticulous and calculating to pull off all the crashes he has. He knows his way around the controls a lot better than your standard engine. Greaseball is just focused on going fast and Electra, while being a bit smarter about it, still relies on others to do the work for him. CB is the master of control. The tiny details.
5) Who likes to be the little spoon?
Both of them, and yes, they will fight over it. Electra likes to be held just as much, but CB just ends up being a little jetpack. CB will whine and complain until Electra agrees to be the big spoon though.
6) What's their stance on PDA?
Electra has absolutely no problem feeling up CB at any and all moments of the day. CB secretly enjoys it, but knows that it can be distracting. He will partake in PDA as well, but he's definitely not as smooth about it.
7) Who shows affection through words?
Neither of them are particularly good with words, but Electra makes a huge effort to get better about it. He practices what he's going to say in the mirror. CB wishes he could try as hard but can never find anything as eloquent as Electra to say.
8) Who shows affection through touch?
Both of them. Touch is very easy for them. They practically can't keep their hands off each other.
9) How do they like to initiate intimacy?
Electra doesn't even have to say a word, he just knows exactly where to touch CB for him to know he wants to get intimate. While Electra is smooth and sultry, CB is a jokester. He will pose stupidly and make the dumbest jokes (a la "draw me like one of your French girls"). Either that, or he'll make random pouty noises. Electra knows what it means and is more than happy to satisfy.
10) Do they have a dream wedding venue?
Electra does, for damn sure. Electra would do most of the planning for any sort of wedding related stuff. It's not that CB isn't interested in helping, he just never thought that he would get married and has no idea how to go about it. All he can genuinely offer is, "I like these colors."
11) How do they comfort each other?
CB swears Electra's kisses could cure cancer. Whenever CB is feeling upset, Electra's embrace and kisses seem to help melt all his troubles away. CB is just really good at cheering Electra up with jokes that make him forget about his problems.
12) What's an ideal evening for them?
They're honestly just happy to be spending time with each other, but Electra has a tendency to like more relaxing evenings like a bubble bath with champagne and yoga. CB wants Electra to play video games or watch a movie with him.
13) Who's the most playful in bed?
They're both rather playful, but CB definitely has more energy for being hyper about it.
14) Who shows affection through gift giving?
As mentioned above, Electra.
15) Who's the first one up in the morning?
Probably Electra, only because they go to sleep at a reasonable time. CB has a lot more trouble sleeping, and therefore more trouble getting up early.
16) Were they friends before they were lovers?
For sure, but not for a long amount of time since Electra might have exploded if he didn't tell CB about his feelings.
17) Who is the better singer.
Not that either of them are bad, but Electra is particularly good. They have that soul đľ
18) Who has the best jokes?
CB, of course! What's a clown without jokes? He's very clever, witty, and funny and Electra can't get over just how much CB makes him laugh.
19) Who's the better cook?
CB isn't allowed near the appliances and can only make simple stuff and Electra definitely isn't great at first, but comes to be an okay cook. Dinah still outshines them both, though.
20) What's their stance on having kids?
Electra has always dreamed of having little mini mes and doesn't have any compunctions about having kids. CB never thought it would be a possibility and probably thought he'd make a terrible parent. Electra helps him warm up to the idea, even suggesting they have another caboose first so it'll be easier on him. Her name is Rose and she is hot pink.
Thank you so much for the ask lol
#starlight express#stex cb#cb stex#cb starlight express#starlight express cb#cb the red caboose#electra stex#stex electra#electra starlight express#electra the electric engine#electraboose
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Midsummers But JJ x Reader -Everything
Content: Angst, Then Fluff, Then Smut, Then Fluff again. Kook!Reader
Summary: Misummers episode but make it JJ x Reader.Â
T/W: Violence, Smut, Language, (Sexy) Use of the word slut, ignorant family
A/N: This is so fucking long (Iâm sorry) but I like it! Itâs a rollercoaster of emotions and its pretty packed. That being said, ty for reading at all lol.Â
âMom how could you even say that?â You gulped back tears and looked at your mother in both hurt and disgust. How could she be so insensitive, so cruel, and so nonchalant about the somebody you cared about so much.Â
âI didnât like you hanging out with those marina rats in the first place! It wonât be the last time one of your gross friends ends up in a jail cell. That boy is just like his father, a dirty degenerate.â
âDonât say that!â you spat out at her, tears burning your eyes, âYou donât know what youâre fucking talking about.âÂ
She slapped your face hard, you felt your cheek burn and blood start to pour out of the little skin breaks. You knew that it was wrong to word it like that, but you couldnât contain it. JJ was the love of your life. And he was nothing like his father.Â
âWatch your damn mouth girl. Get dressed, look pretty, and smile. If you could stop being selfish for one minute, you can enjoy tonight. Itâs very important to your family.â she rushed out and slammed the door.Â
Midsummers was not your thing obviously, but you usually didnât mind it. Kie was there, and Pope too, and a couple hours in, you and Kie would sneak off to the Chateau to smoke with JJ and John B, your parents too busy drinking with their obnoxious friends to notice. Youâd text them later, Went to Kieâs. The only friend they approved of, solely because she was âA good girl, just confused about her place in societyâ just like you. Your parents were judgmental and snobby and it disgusted you. They really thought they were better than your friends because they had money. Your mother especially, and she grew up on The Cut. It makes you want to vomit. You sat down at your vanity looking in the mirror and all the nice things around you. You started to sob, five miles from here, there were people with no power or water, working harder than you ever would have to, just to feed their families. And another couple miles away, was your boyfriend, and best friend, a boy who would die to protect you, walk through fire to make you happy, and took anything that came at him, was in a jail cell, taking the blame to protect another one of your friends' future. And here you were, in your million dollar home, in your beautiful room, getting ready to go to a fancy party with fancy people.Â
âFuck.â You wiped your tears. Your heart beats hard in anxiety. JJ had the survival instincts of a cockroach as Kie would say, he had a way with words and could talk his way out of tricky situations. That wasnât what you were distressed about. You were ridden with fear about what his dad was gonna do to him. You started to hyperventilate. You felt disgusted by your privilege, disgusted with your family, and disgusted by everything around you. But there was nothing you could do.Â
Youâd spend the night nodding courtley in your white dress, faking a smile and politely introducing yourself to random rich people.Â
âWhy do you still look like that?â Your mother bursted into your room once again. âGet ready right now, or I swear to god, youâll never see the light of day again.âÂ
You nodded and started to put make-up on and slipped on the white silk dress your mother bought for you. It was long and tight at the top, clinging to your body perfectly. As beautiful as you looked, your soul felt empty.Â
Your eyes were red with tears, and your lips were puffy, you looked in the mirror. You definitely looked like you had tried to cover up sobbing, but you didnât really care. You remembered a moment before you and JJ had even started dating.Â
You and JJ were watching the sunrise on the beach, you on one of your runaway episodes, trying to escape the tight grip of your mother. You both knew you police were searching for you everywhere, and that as soon as you were inevitably found, youâd be in a heap of trouble, but somehow on that beach, in that moment there was nothing that mattered except the sound of the waves and the company of each other.Â
JJ asked you a simple question, âHow do you feel?âÂ
Your response was genuine, âI donât know. Everything is wrong. Things arenât okay at all, and yet somehow, I feel alright.â You looked at him with a smile, his blonde hair sparkling in the sunriseâs glow. You put your head on his lap and looked up at him. âItâs âcause of you J. You make me feel like everythings alright.â Tears started to stream down your face, âYouâve treated me with more kindness then anybody Iâve ever met.âÂ
He wiped your tears and just nodded, happy to hear that he made you feel like that. âAlways.â he said.Â
âI must look so stupid,â you said trying to clean your face.
 âNo.â he said. âYou look so pretty, even when you cry.âÂ
You got in the car, your mother lecturing you on what was expected of you tonight. âBe who you are. A well brought up girl, with a beautiful smile, and manners, and etiquette. You are not the pogue delinquent filth you glamorize.âÂ
Your older sister added âNow that you actually look like you belong in this family, try acting like it.â she said with a fake smile. Your brother just snickered and your father nodded in agreement.Â
You tuned them out, knowing if you listened you wouldnât be able to control your mouth and would wind up with another dull bruise on the side of your cheek.Â
Finally you had arrived, and your family practically fled from your side instantly. Youâd think mom would have me on a fucking leash after that. You thought. But no, as much as your mother yelled at you about what you should be, and how you should act, nothing was more important to her than climbing up the social ladder and socializing with the Outer Banks bourgeois.Â
Your sister and brother sat down with their Kook friends, making sure you knew that you didnât belong, and they certainly didnât want you anywhere near them. They act like I want to sit with them.Â
You spotted Kie and Pope by Heywards oyster table.Â
âYou look gorgeous.â Kie said, You smiled and thanked her.Â
âNot as gorgeous as you.â You tried to return the compliment, but it came out gloomy and monotone.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â Pope asked.Â
âJJ.â your voice cracked and tears swelled at the thought of his current state.Â
âThe last thing JJ would want you to do, especially while youâre dressed like that, is worry about him.â your friends reassured you.Â
The night went on, but your nerves were anything but calmed. Kie and Pope tried their best to try and cheer you up, but it was to no avail, and they themselves were worried about him too.Â
You sat on the stairs towards the back of the club, drawing circles in the sand. The dull throbbing of your head was starting to bother you. You got up towards the festivities, walking over to the bar to ask for a ginger ale that could maybe cure your dehydration.Â
You sipped slowly, other than the lingering sting of anxiety, your mind empty. That was until you heard a familiar voice.Â
âMr Dunleavy! I see you got your drink, that's wonderful. Iâm actually gonna down that.â It was none other than your boy, JJ, in a typical JJ situation, being escorted out by security.Â
âJJ!â you ran to him and he freed his arms from the securities hold to spin you around and kiss you on the lips. âMy pretty princess.â You smiled. âThis is my girlfriend.â JJ started to tell the guard, who just scoffed.Â
Youâd never been so happy to see somebody in your life. Your smile faded when you noticed the bruises and cuts on his face, you started to say something, but the guard shoved him and kept moving.Â
âHey! You canât do that!â you started. âIâm a member of this club! And I.. I invited him!âÂ
Your sister stepped in, âNo she didnât,â she tried to reassure the party goers watching.Â
JJ pushed the guard into a table and smiled at you, you instantly grabbed his hair pulling him into a passionate kiss. His hands went to your waist and he smiled into the kiss. âYou look fucking amazing.âÂ
You smiled and adjusted his tie, âSpiffy.â He jokingly gagged.Â
More of the crowd began to stare at the situation, and you saw your mother walking with the intentional enunciated walk ever, stomping her feet and flaring her nostrils. You pointed it out to JJ and you both laughed out loud. âDonât move a muscle young lady!â she shouted at you.Â
JJ grabbed your hand and you both started running to the exit of the club porch. âMandatory power hour at Ricksonâs Kie!â he pointed with his free hand at her. âYou too Pope!âÂ
You quickly let go of JJâs hand to grab Kie by the wrist, and he kept running. âLets go!â You smiled excitedly.Â
You saw out of the corner of your eye Pope taking off his stuffy apron.Â
âWorkers of the world unite! Throw off your chains!â You giggled at JJâs antics, the rest of the party looking in horror.Â
Your mother was still doing her best to chase you while still maintaining her poise, and it just made you laugh more. You and Kie ran hand in hand, Pope by Kieâs side to JJ and John B across the field, you only let go when JJ pulled you into a hug spinning around, putting you on his back right after.Â
You both turned around to face the party, most of the guests turning their snobby noses up in disgust, and you both peaked Rafe at the same time.You flipped him off together and you saw your mother practically faint.Â
The rest of the night was insane. John Bâs revelation and then him falling from a fucking tower and all. So many things happened, and your brain was having trouble processing. When JJÂ Â had finally gotten word that John B was going to be okay, the pair of you left the hospital and headed back to the Chateau.Â
You sighed and laid down in the bed that was now known as JJâs, taking a hit of JJ's juul.
He took off his shirt, and laid down next to you, snuggling into your chest.Â
âHey baby,â you put the juul in between his lips and he inhaled hard, as you played with his hair.Â
 You tilted his jaw so you could get a good look at him, his precious face littered in bruises and cuts, and you knew why. His father.Â
âJay-â tears started to stream down your cheeks. âItâs so selfish of me to cry I-âÂ
âHey,â he sat up to cup your face, âHey. Iâm fine. Itâs nothin that hasn't happened before.âÂ
Perusal, your boyfriend was trying to put on a strong face to keep you from worrying, but you knew him all too well. In the sense that he wasnât okay, but also that he didnât wanna talk about it, he just wanted you to tell him how much you love him.Â
âI love you baby. Youâre my world. You know that right? You know how much I care about you?âÂ
He nodded and pulled you into a kiss, âYeah baby?â He slid his hand up your thigh and leaned in closer to your ear, âYou know what my first thought was when I saw you in that dress?â You gasped as his hand worked up your leg to begin rubbing your clothed clit. Wetness pooled almost instantly. âI wanted to rip it off and fuck the shit out of you right there.â That sentence was enough to make your pussy throb, and you gasped as JJ pushed your panties to the side, dipping his two fingers into you.Â
âOh baby, youâre so fucking wet.â You nuzzled your head into his neck and shoulder, biting down on his shirt to try and have some control over yourself.Â
âNuh uh,â he tsked. âWanna see your pretty face. And hear all your pretty sounds.â His free hand positioning your face so you were looking right into his eyes.Â
At that, you were a moaning mess. Right before your release, he quickly removed his fingers and showed you all of your stickiness in his hand, dripping to his palm and down to his wrists.Â
With one hand, he grabbed your throat, the coldness of his rings sending shivers down your spine. The other pushed his sticky fingers into your mouth, and you began sucking hard, closing your eyes and pretending it was his cock.Â
âOh my god. Youâre such a good girl baby.âÂ
You heard him sliding his shorts down, quickly letting go of you to lie you flat so he was hovering over your body.Â
 He started pressing wet kisses on your neck, sucking hard to give you purple marks, so everybody knew you were his. âYour mine, you know that?âÂ
You nodded and shimmied your shirt off. âYou know exactly what I want huh baby?âÂ
He massaged your boobs gently, worshipping your body.Â
âJJ. Fuck me already.âÂ
âSo needy.âÂ
He placed his hard cock right in front of your entrance, sliding up and down before slamming into you with no warning.Â
âOh fuck!â you screamed at the pressure of his dick against your walls. You could feel every vein and ridge, every throb.Â
âBe a good fucking girl and take it.â He said in between grunts.Â
You felt your clit rub against his skin every time he was fully inside. He grabbed your waist so every time he bottomed out he could slam back into you even harder.
He kept saying the most insane things in your ear, each word bringing you closer to coming.Â
âGood fucking girl.â
âLet me hear how good I'm making you feel baby.âÂ
âYou take it so well baby.âÂ
âSuch a good little slut for me.â
âFuckâ he moaned slamming into you, impossibly harder. You clenched around him as he buried his dick into you.Thrusting without bottoming out, hitting your g-spot repeatedly. Your walls began to converge, as JJ said, âCum for me baby. Yeah, baby-â he grunted loudly as you came on him, his sticky load began shooting into you, drenching your walls.Â
âJesus christ.â he said panting, flopping down next to you. âI love you.âÂ
âI love you too JJ.â You cuddled up to his chest, âMore than anything.âÂ
He placed a quick kiss on your forehead and you both drifted off into a peaceful sleep.Â
 Again, very sorry this was so long and if it sucked.Â
#jj#jj outer banks#jjobx#obxjj#jjxreader#jjfanfic#outerbanks#obx#jjangst#jjfluff#jjsmut#jjobxangst#jjimagine#jjobximagine#jj maybank#jjmaybankxreader#jjmaybankobx
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The internet is a disgusting swarm of bullies. You will find all sort of complexes lol iâm talking real heavy stuff you will be gobsmacked at if you saw. Your bulliesâ level of self hatred must be so deep + concealed with pain, they were hoping to get a kick out of someone so nice. In reality it all means nothing, because no one likes an ugly heart. You are everything they wish they were. Because that big heart is going to take you places they could only dream about
Thatâs very true; the internet is one of the darkest, most dangerous places and I think itâs greatly underestimated in a lot of ways. Itâs also a gift, and it just depends on how you use it, I suppose; like everything is it a double edged blade. Itâs easy to forget that there are actual living people on the other side of the screen and itâs only too easy to hide yourself, though everything can be traced back with the right technology.Â
I have since received rude messages after that horrible event, but that was because anons took a very obviously joke post that I made and twisted it deliberately, just to âcancelâ me or something, idk. I ended up deleted the original post and all the asks, so they got what they wanted, I suppose. Things arenât always that deep but they were obviously bored that day and looking for a reason to hurt someone. People are awful these days. I think youâre right - in the end, they were projecting their insecurities onto me and it wasnât my fault and I, being the sensitive soul I am, took it personally in the moment rather than seeing it for what it was. Hindsightâs a wonderful thing. Theyâre all blocked now and they most likely donât even remember what was said... but I do, even months later. It was only a handful of messages but most days when I receive a message I brace for something rude; itâs almost instinctive now. I had panic attacks over the things they said and the damage is still showing itself. I almost deleted this blog over it all, but that would have been exactly what they wanted so in the end I stayed.
Thank you so much for your kind words and for your reassurance, it truly means so much to me. I like to believe that everyoneâs good at their core despite the traumas Iâve been through, and sometimes I receive a harsh reminder that that isnât always the case. Thatâs also true - thereâs no cure for an ugly heart and more often as not those people may not even realise that they possess one. or if they do, they donât care... I canât decide which of the two is worse. Thank you, my love! My heart is relatively unguarded; this community (and Joker) has taught me to be more open and more honest with who I am and my feelings and, naturally, that can draw in negativity from time to time. You have just as big a heart as I do and you deserve the world!đ
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Survey #274
ânow i can hear the marching feet / theyâre moving into the streetâ
What color was the last swimsuit you wore? I only have a black one. Is your dream job attainable? I mean define âdream job.â Iâd ideally be a meerkat biologist if I was willing to live in Africa and could handle even mild heat, but I canât/wonât do either of those, so itâs not obtainable to me. Iâd also love to be a paleontologist if I could travel and handle heat once more, but again, I canât. My only *attainable* dream job is being a photographer, which I am aiming for. Iâd LIKE to focus on nature/wildlife photography, but thatâs unlikely to be able to support me, so. Do you have to go to school or work tomorrow? N/A Have you slept for longer than usual today? Yes, but only because of my nightmares. I tend to take at least two (though sometimes one) hour-long naps during the day because if I wake up once during the night, as I usually do, Iâm fucked because Iâm very likely to have an intense nightmare. It seems like the medicine Iâm on wears off with consciousness, I guess. I only allow myself to sleep an hour at daytime because my mother has noticed if I have a nightmare, itâs usually no earlier than one hour into sleep. Even then I still have them occasionally. Have you ever taken classes for a musical instrument? Recorder in elementary school was necessary for whatever stupid reason, and then I played the flute for years. Out of school, I took guitar lessons for a while. I got semi-decent (at best I could do the intro to âCrazy Trainâ at normal speed, I think), but it didnât last because it was annoying/time-consuming to build up the calluses that make playing painless, I was really bad at overthinking where my fingers were, and I just wasnât invested quite enough. Iâll tell you, it gave me mad respect for guitarists, that shit isnât easy by any means. Have you ever been on vacation with someone other than your family? Yes, though it was brief. I was a kid (okay, pre-teen, w/e) still in my separation anxiety from Mom phase and it was literally because of me we had to go home. I still feel shitty about it, though no one seemed upset at me. How old do you think youâll be when you move out on your own? Who the fuck even knows anymore. Do you have a job? If so, where do you work? If not, do you want one? No; N/A; yes ultimately but no at the current moment because I have to keep watch over Mom. If you wear make-up, which brand of foundation/powder do you use? N/A Would you call yourself a âpeopleâ person? Nope. What is one change you need to make in your life this month? Just one??? Whatâs been tugging on your heart lately? My PTSD plus self-image has been very, very bad. What is the last thing you did that made you feel guilty? Mom had to clean up my catâs projectile vomit even though sheâs supposed to stay away from this kinda stuff through chemo. I literally cannot fucking touch vomit, never mind what came out of him that night. I felt like absolute fucking shit and I still do because WOW Iâm a great adult right!! Do you have any physical traits that are bothering you lately? Like, everything. What kind of dog is your favorite? Iâm biased to beagles. What was the last thing you received in the mail? A book. What is the last thing you wrote? Like, physically? My signature at the doctorâs office. Do you still care about the person you first kissed? Way fucking more than I should. Do you require a lot of private time? Definitely more than most people. Do you have any songs currently stuck in your head? I havenât listened to it in forever for ~reasons~, yet âThe Morticianâs Daughterâ is stuck in my head badly and really needs to fuck off. What was the last song you downloaded? I dunno, I went on a download binge a while back. Have you ever read a really funny book? I remember at least one. âBite Meâ by IDR-Who. Some vampire satire. Have you ever done something humiliating while drunk? Never reached the point of being drunk. How would you react if your celebrity crush came to your door? fuckin YIKES I am NOT attractive rn go away Has your mom/dad ever walked in on you kissing or anything more with someone? HAHA my mom has always had the decency to knock, not so much his mom a;lwkejrewoei but the answerâs still no. What electronics are in your room? (DVD player, CD player, etc) This laptop, my phone, a Nintendo DS, my iPod⌠Do you have a box anywhere with special items you'll to keep forever in it? Yes, actually. Grew up calling them âtreasure boxes.â Do you have any pictures of yourself on your bedroom walls? Lol no, Iâd definitely prefer to not see myself as much as I can. That sounds melodramatic, but Iâm being serious. It either depresses me or makes me angry. Does your dad collect anything? The Cleveland Brownsâ football team stuff, for one. Maybe Carolina Hurricane stuff, too? Idk. I donât live with him and donât go in his âman caveâ at his house often ha ha. What's better, a desktop or laptop? Explain. A laptop. Portable; thatâs all the explanation ya really need. Do your parents still hide chocolate eggs around on Easter for you? Nah. What do you typically do on Easter Day? We go to my sisterâs house to watch the kids do their egg hunting and open their gifts, then we usually go to Ashleyâs in-lawsâ for dinner. Is there anyone you literally need to exist? Apparently not. Thought so. Never let yourself into that state of mind. What would you prefer to get from a guy/girl: flowers, a hand-written poem, a picture he drew of you or a nice night out? Oh, a hand-written poem would wreck me, yeesh. Or a drawing. But any would be very sweet. Do you remember why you made the last mistake you did? I donât know the most recent mistake, but probably because Iâm just in general a terrified person who second-guesses or overanalyzes everything. Did you check how many calories the last thing you ate had? Yes. Iâm back on my calorie-counting obsession again. Are your nails long or short? Short, always. I canât keep them long. What is your favorite kind of cookie? Just the ordinary chocolate chip is fine. What was the last compliment you received? I donât know. Who will be the next person you kiss? I normally delete this question because the answer should be so obvious, but I feel like just pointing it out that no one fucking knows who theyâre gonna kiss next. Itâs a dangerous mindset. Donât make assumptions about what youâll have even tomorrow. Have you ever made your own icon? Yeah, on many sites. Theyâre just about always just edits, though, not truly original work. What color is your computer mouse? Itâs black. Have you ever been sung to on your birthday in a restaurant? Yes. Do you like black olives? I donât like olives period. Do you actually think there will be a zombie apocolypse? Personally, no. I do think itâs scientifically possible, we already see this in insects, but I just donât imagine it happening to humans before weâre our own downfall. Do you like the person youâve become over the past years? Fuck no. Have you ever gone to church just to get a significant other? ⌠NoâŚ? Have you ever punched a wall out of complete anger? No, that shit is terrifying. Are you really ticklish? YES donât fucking touch me. How do you decide what you're going to eat each day? I just follow what Iâm craving that day. How are you similar to your siblings? Different? Compared to Ashley and Nicole at least, I canât think of any real similarities off the top of my head. Theyâre intelligent, motivated, outgoing, successful, yada yada, then thereâs me. What's your favorite type of non-fiction literature? Autobiographies by people Iâm actually interested in. Do you believe in souls? Soulmates? Souls, absolutely. Soulmates, no. Itâs fairytale ideation to think your soul has a perfect match with another, hate to break it to ya. Favorite soundtrack? BITCH donât make me choose between Shadow of the Colossus and Silent Hill 2. Fucking masterpieces. Pianos or guitars? *shrugs* Depends on the music and my mood. Did an animal ever bite you? Never seriously. How many languages do you speak? Only English fluently. Iâm poor at German by now. Wiggly worms or bumble bees? Worms gross me out, bees are Good Boys. Religion? I donât really identify with any. I just believe thereâs some form of ultimate intelligence and essences beyond just the body, and thatâs all I even pretend to know. Fog, thunder, or rain? Fog gives me that Silent Hill Vibe *Italian kiss* What regret keeps coming back to haunt you daily? The way I treated Jason after the breakup. If you could cure yourself of one allergy, what would it be? Damn pollen. Do you know anyone else with your name? Yeah. What would you be most afraid of happening if you were to visit Africa? Viruses or botflies. Where are you tempted to move to sometimes? I very legitimately want to live in Canada by now, but I wonât because Iâm not moving that far from family. Who seems like they have the perfect life? I try not to make that assumption of anyone. Do you ever take pictures of negative moments? Does taking pictures of roadkill count???? lmao probably Do you think it would be a good idea to post photos of negative moments as well as positive? Well⌠I guess it depends. Like ngl, the pictures some people share of them having panic attacks to just show how fucking real they are definitely touch you, as do those depicting poverty, etc., BUT I really do think there are limits and also differences in motivations. What time zone are you in? EST. Would you ever post a picture of yourself crying on social media? Wow, speaking of. No. ^Why or why not? I am an UGLY cry-er, my man. But I also just donât want people to see that, and itâs definitely not on my mind to take a picture during a breakdown. What was the last thing you cried about? My life. Have you ever held a newborn baby? Yes. Do you know anyone who has twins? Yes. Where do you buy calendars from? I donât. Do you shop at the dollar store often? Not *often*, but weâll stop by for a snack or something sometimes. Are you following in the career path of any family members? No. Do you feel you missed out on a lot as a kid? I guess in some ways. Who was that best friend you ever had? Sara. What color is your laptop? Black. What are five careers you think youâd be good at? My work history has shown I canât do shit right. Are you thriving in your life right now? lmao no one is in 2020. Who do you have moral support from? My family, doctor, and a few friends. Who encourages you to go after your dreams? The same as above. Do you have people in your family who want you dead? Wow, I hope not. Do you have a walk-in closet? No, but my room at the new house will. :â) Not that I need one, itâs just pretty cool. How do you feel about people like Elon Musk, Bill Gates, and Jeff Bezos having so much power and control in the world? Do you believe that any one person should have so much power? Letâs be real, in our current world, money is power, and no one should have that much control of the world, especially if your intentions are bad. NOW I donât know jack shit about any of those are far as morals go, but just saying. Itâs dangerous. Has your anxiety alone ever prevented you from doing something you wanted to do? This is ACTUALLY the story of my fucking life. Do you enjoy reading stories and novels that are heavily stylistic, poetic, or unconventional or do you prefer your prose to follow a familiar grammatical structure? Okay, I LOVE those, like Johnny Got His Gun and The Handmaidâs Tale thatâs kinda like, run-on writing. Just letting a train of thought go. Those are two of the most powerful books Iâve ever read and theyâre both written in a unique fashion. Have you ever fallen for any sort of Internet-based hoax? (e.g., fake celeb death, satire news articleâŚ) Iâm sure at some point, especially as a kid. Do you tend to read reviews before you watch a movie or read a book? What do you hope to get out of doing so? NO. I donât wanna have any precognition. When you go to a concert, how far must you travel for the most usual venues you visit? Most are on the other end of the state, and NC is long, so. Weâre lucky if they come to Raleigh. Do you rent movies frequently? I never do, really. What is your favorite thing to do outside? Take pictures or swim. Whatâs your favorite meal to cook? I donât cook. What movie has been taken WAY too far, as far as sequels go? Oh, Iâm sure there are some, but none immediately come to mind. Iâm not that into movies. Do you refuse to eat certain foods because of what they look like? Yes. I am VERY poor at getting past how a food looks. What are you listening to? NSPâs cover of âDonât Fear The Reaper.â Itâs fuckin gorgeous. How much homework do you have tonight? N/A Are you wearing any bracelets? Yes; one that Sara got me as well as an ovarian cancer awareness one. What's physically wrong with you right now? JINKIES I just feel really lethargic like always. Do you take any medications daily? Ha ha thanks for actually reminding me I need to now. When was the last time you moved to a new house? Two years ago, and now weâll be moving to a much better place by the end of this month/early September, finally. When it comes to relationships, are you the jealous type? Nah. Which gift cards do you have in your wallet? Idk actually. Itâs not like I use it a lot. Can you remember the last time you felt ill? What was wrong with you? A few nights ago. I was extremely hot, dizzy, and pretty nauseated. I was fine, though. If you wear make-up, do you take it with you, to reapply throughout the day? Does your make-up stay for a long time after you first apply it, or do you find that you need to reapply often? Are you wearing any make-up atm? I pretty much never wear makeup so have never really had a reason to reapply it. Iâm definitely not wearing any now. Does your kitchen have a theme? No. Do you like ice cream sandwiches? GIRL yes. Do you prefer earbuds or headphones? Earbuds. Theyâre more comfortable imo but more importantly block out exterior noise very well. Are you a fan of any independent films? ngl, I donât know exactly what that is and I donât feel like looking it up. Could you possibly write a successful novel? I very genuinely think some of the RP stories Iâve taken part in are novel-worthy, yes. I wanted to make them books when I was younger, but now I no longer do mainly because there are areas that are just way too fucking dark that I donât wanna put out there but play massive parts in the stories, so like⌠Do you regularly watch the news? I never do. Facebook is my ânewsâ source lmao. Who was the last person you video-chatted with? I donât remember for sure, maybe some doctor? What do you want the theme of your wedding to be? I donât really think about this, seeing as my mind has changed enough, and it also depends on what my partner wants, too. Have you ever been caught passing a note in class? Noooo, I absolutely hated passing notes because I was genuinely a good student. I only did so very, very rarely if another friend started it. Have you ever had dandruff? I have dandruff AND a dry scalp. Itâs a wonderful mix. Have you ever gone through a phase of crushing on EVERYONE? Definitely not. Do you have any clothes with spikes/studs on them? I have a spiked choker, and I might still have gloves with studs? Can you remember what you last clapped for? My momâs birthday! :â) Have you ever given a pet to someone else? Yes, with cats; we had to do that quite often when I was a kid because we had so many cats, none which we could afford to fix. Then weâve done it with two dogs we just couldnât handle. Oh yeah, I gave my iguana away too because he was too high maintenance for me, but also because he DESPERATELY needed a much bigger terrarium, which we couldnât afford. I absolutely could not watch him in that tiny tank. I miss him a LOT, but he went to a wonderful home! The lady who adopted him sent me pictures upon pictures months after taking him in. Do you know anyone named Walter? No. What's your least favorite ice-cream flavor? Strawberry is fucking disgusting. And thatâs coming from someone whose favorite fruit is strawberries. What's your least favorite song by your favorite artist? Iâm not sure. Thereâs a handful that just donât grab my attention that I donât even remember them. What was the last good news you heard? I can FINALLY talk to my psychiatrist tomorrow. Whoâs your favorite singer of all time? Probably Freddie Mercury. What airline do you fly most? Idk, I donât really pay attention. I havenât flown very often though anyway. Do you have a dog that is destructive? I donât have a dog. Whatâs one TV series youâve seen every episode of? Meerkat Manor is the most obvious, ha ha. Maaaaany times. Assuming you have Facebook, who last left you a wallpost? Probably my friend Sammi. Assuming you have hair, how are you wearing it today? Itâs too short for me to âwearâ it any particular way. Itâs just⌠there lmao. Assuming you're not homeless, what kind of living arrangements do you have? I live with my mom in a house sheâs renting. Have you or have you ever considered messing around with the same sex? Iâm bisexual so you can guess Iâm not opposed to it. Are you particular about any brands of food you will or will not eat? Are there any restaurants you refuse to go to? Brands, no. I donât eat Chick-fil-a because theyâre run by fucking homophobic bigots that monetarily support conversion therapy and other anti-LGBT projects. Iâm not giving you any fucking money. What was the most current dream you can remember about? Do you generally dream every night, or hardly at all? It was actually last night, when I dreamed about accidentally running into Jason where I last knew he worked, and he was really hostile. If I donât take my medicine, I always have nightmares when I sleep.
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Congratulations, LIA! Youâve been accepted for the role of ROMEO. Admin Minnie: How many times can we tell you how much we love your Roman, Lia!! Our darling boy has changed so much since you began writing him, and itâs been a wild ride and an honor to see him develop. The crown weighs heavy on those whose hearts still believe in good, and Roman is proof of the burden of carrying that weight. I canât wait to see how you continue pushing Roman forward and capturing our hearts and imagination with your writing. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.
OUT OF CHARACTER
Alias | Lia
Age | 21
Preferred Pronouns | She/Her
Activity Level | 6/10. Iâll actually be more active than usual since my classes are online for the time being, but in general, Iâll be able to pop in a few days a week to do replies.
Timezone | EST.
IN CHARACTER
Character | Romeoâ The beautiful boy king Roman Montague.
What drew you to this character? | Mannnnnnn⌠Honestly, my entire body and soul belongs to Roman. Watching him grow in the RP has really been like watching a child grow up??? (yeah I donât have kids so idk how accurate this statement is) But I wanted to revist the *cough* second time I revisted this part of the application.
âThereâs something Iâve always loved about his inherent goodness, and how much he was loved for it. He was never a false prophet, he didnât need to formulate a false persona, he was always himself, and that was enough for him to be adored. To Verona, Roman was proof that there still was some goodness in Verona, that there was some hope that the entire city wasnât completely doomed and corrupt. He was proof that the gods hadnât completely forsakened them. So what happens when he is no longer being shielded from the destitute of Verona? What happens when it begins to corrupt him, when it permeates through his essence? This is exactly what I intend to explore, especially with it being my second time around, and with Roman being a bit more in touch with his sinful side than I left him. ;-)â
Heâs just so much more than people give him credit for? And that leads him to be underestimated, but boyâ is ready to prove everyone wrong. >:-)
What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |
(Iâve kept the majority of the previous plots as they are still plots I hope to see through!)
MOTHER DEAREST | Thereâs no secret that Albaâs mind is deteriorating, and Damiano and Romanâs dismay, not even the best doctors, flown in from all over the world, are able to find a cure. Iâm interested in seeing how this would affect the Montague empire, with Romanâs own mother being one of the biggest risks for the empire. I think this would force him to make some tough decisions, ones not even his father is capable of considering, absolutely blinded by the love he has for his Alba.
KINGâS NOT DEAD | Romanâs gradual transition of power from his father is occurring much faster than heâd hoped for. Although heâs learning the ropes of being a boss rapidly, it would be interesting to see how heâd react to suddenly being forced to step in for Damiano unexpectedly. Maybe his father suddenly has to suddenly go away on business, or something involving Alba. Shadowing is one thing, but actually acting as the boss, thatâs something else entirely. Will Roman be able to step up to the task? Stay tuned and find out ;) (I figured this is something to further be discussed with the admins, lol.)
NO LOST LOVE | If there was ever a woman suitable to rule alongside Roman when he eventually inherits the throne, it would absolutely be Pandora Phan. She is a soldier at heartâ clever, determined, and unrelenting. But despite having this in commonâ the two couldnât be any less alike. It would be a union devoid of love, completely for purpose and betterment of the mob. Roman understands this, but his love is something he is unwilling to compromise about. Although heâs agreed to the engagement for now, heâs only been keeping it up for the purpose of appearances, and heâs been secretly plotting about a way to end his engagement. Itâs only a matter of time before he lets Pandora in on it.
MOST YOUNG KINGS GET THEIR HEAD CUT OFF | Not to say that we have Dark!Roman now, but⌠we kind of do? I think what is drawing me to Roman once again is his multifacetedness. Heâs gradually become a person that is no longer an extension of his father. His motivations have shifted enitrelyâ before he wanted to take over the mob to appease his father, but this is no longer the case. He recognizes what heâs capable of now, and honestly seeing my bb believe in himself now is amazing. Heâs becoming the leader he was always meant to be.âŚ.but heâs far from perfect. Heâs growing more comfortable with his own depravity. He used to be disgusted at the idea that he took pleasure in the harm of another, but thereâs something oddly satisfying about watching the Capulets fall, and rightfully so at that. It makes him feel goodâ in a twisted, fucked up way actually. Itâs as if heâs purifying the streets of Verona. To him, the destruction of the Capulets is his way of serving the greater good. He also now recognizes the benefit of his charmâ more than charming people into bed, that is. When he was younger he was just naturally charming without any other ulterior motives? But now he recognizes the advantage it gives him. The adoration that it emits from the people of Verona. They worship him for it. And Roman likes to be worshipped. I think this is a dangerous line for Roman to be crossing⌠and I am excited to explore this further.
Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Â Yeah kill him with fire honestly
IN DEPTH
SAMPLE:
SIDENOTE: So, I wanted to revisit Romanâs first heartbreak as a way to show his growth. This is still under construction honestly (as I would like to develop in further for in character purposes), but for now⌠here you go! I was hoping to show a shift in dominance??? Damianoâs voice is the dominant voice from the beginning, but in the second para, it shows how much heâs grown into himself by how he stands up to his father and by his taking control of this part of the narrative. :)) Iâve been Roman for so long good lord, so I felt it was only right to give you guys something fresh to show just how much heâs grown over time! Sorry this is long as fuck omg forgive me.
VERONA, 2012
He heard him before he saw him.
It had been Damianoâs idea to have Rafaella write the letter. In reality, Alba wanted to do far worse, but with time, heâd been able to talk her down. It was he who realized Rafaella had been playing him, something the mafioso suspected from the startâ but Albaâs insistence that Damianoâs interference would only cause Roman to despise himâbeyond repair that is, as heâd already been aware of his sonâs distaste for himâled him to sit back and allow everything to play out.
You have to allow him to make his own mistakes, amore mio. We mustnât interfere until it goes too farâ until we suspect heâs putting the mob at risk.
It wasnât long before the information got back to himâ information that could only have been acquired from the loose, fickle lips of his heir. Rafaella had become untouchable and sheâd known it. Allowing her back into society, with all the information sheâd managed to extract from his gullible son had been riskyâ but having her blood on his hands would be even riskier. Roman would already despise him for her exile, but her demise? That wasnât something he was confident his son would bounce back from. The mob was no longer the place for his delicate heart. The loving bubble in which his mother had carefully surrounded him in would no longer do. It was now Damianoâs responsibility to prepare him for his destinyâ and he would do so on his own terms.
He recognized the sounds that could only be likened to a wounded animalâ the quieted, choked back sobs that Roman so desperately attempted to disguise. Damiano sighed, a mixture of pity and disgrace surging through him. The letter, to put it plainly, wasnât cutting it. He needed the truth. It would be the only way for him to learn.
Damiano pushed the slightly ajar door open, before taking the seat across from Romanâs bed. He did not acknowledge him, but he attempted to quiet his cries even more. Neither of them said anything for several moments.
âThereâs more to itâ isnât there?â Roman began softly, his hands still firmly gripping the dampened letter. âI know it was your decision to make her leave, but I also know thereâs more to it.â
Damiano placed his elbow on his thigh, cradling his head carefully in his hand.
âItâs only fair that I give the girl the credit that sheâs owed. I wish I could say that this was wholly of my own volition, but unfortunately, thereâs far more to the story. Far more than I wish.â
Romanâs head turns up slightly. It is not anger that contorts his fatherâs face, but disappointment. âC-Credit? For what?â
âShe was playing you, figlio. And you made it so easy for her. But I recognized that weakness within you long before she did. You were raised that way, after all. But it will be this way no longer. I can no longer do you a disservice by allowing you to be weak. Naive. Gullible. Because if I do?â Roman recoils as if heâd been struck with every name that falls from his fatherâs lips. âThen another Rafaella will come around, chew you up, and spit you out effortlessly just as she did.â
âNo⌠Rafaella wouldnâtâŚ. would she?â His eyes searched his fatherâs for sincerity. Possibly for comfort, he would not receive. It was comfort heâd never received from Damiano, but he still sought it out anyway. Pathetic. Even after everything, he still could not fathom that her love wasnât true.
âShe would, Roman! And you know why? Because the entire purpose of her involvement with you was to undermine you. To undermine our family. She didnât love you and you need to recognize this. You need to be able to recognize the weakness within yourself, to prevent such ridiculousness from occurring again. You made it so easy for her. Do you know what you do the next time you feel inclined to confide in someone you love?â He paused for a moment, knowing good and well Roman didnât know the answer to that. âYou donât. Not people outside of the family, at least. People like Rafaellaâ the recognize what you have. Youâll come to learn that this lifeâ the life of a princeling is a gift and a curse. Youâve never needed to want anything, but everyone will want what you have. And theyâll do anything to get it. When you lay with rats, Roman, you realize that every inch of their being is committed to not appearing like one. But a rat is still a rat. And you gave the rat everything it wanted with minimal effort on its part. And my biggest regret is I allowed it all to happen. I allowed you to be stupidâ to be foolish, to believe that what the two of you had, that superficialââ He could not even bring himself to say the word love, not after knowing what true love was. As if Roman and Rafaellaâs dalliances were a disgrace to the word. âDo not embarrass yourself like this again. If you are going to be a fit leader, then you canât continue being somebody people recognize as vulnerable. Theyâll never respect you.â His only regret was not turning Rafaella into a weaponâ such wasted potential on the slimy Capulets. But even Damiano was not convinced his efforts would work on a pest so deeply committed to being a pest. Sheâd been better off with Cosimo and his deplorable ways.
âI donât respect you. You make it so hard to do so when you⌠â he bites back his disgust, but he recognizes his efforts are working. The gradual chipping away of Romanâs soft exterior. He would shed his skin in favor of an armor far thicker. âBut nevermind that. Your official training begins tomorrow at sunset. Weâll be interrogating a suspected informant. Be prepared for things to get messy. Donât embarrass me either.â Damiano stands up swiftly, no longer able to stand the sight of his son.
âPapa?â Roman utters quietly before Damiano has completely exited the room. âWould you not allow me comfort? Not even this once?â
âComfort doesnât win wars. Neither does compassion. I wonât do you the disservice of believing it will get you anywhere in this city. Not in this life it wonât. Do you know where comfort and compassion got you, Roman? Mourning the likes of your rat lover. A person who probably hasnât even given you a second thought. And you really think that I came here to comfort you? Donât be inane. I came to give you a wake-up call. Youâll probably hate me for it in the long run, and guess what? Iâve accepted that. Youâll be a better man because of it. A stronger one. And that what matters. Youâll soon realize that you can have practically any woman or man youâve ever wantedâ but never allow them to make you weak. Never allow them to steal your honor. Youâre a Montague. Itâs time to start acting like one.â
VERONA, 2019
He heard him before he saw him. The hurried footsteps. His father was late.
Roman watched as the minute hand abandoned itâs partner, opting instead to move forward, now noticeable enough that his father was obviously late. Instead of quickening to anger, he focused his attentions on the paper lantern on his desk, attempting to funnel his emotions inside of it. Itâd been easy enough in that current moment, but would it when it actually counted for something?
The door to his office opened and closed swiftly, but even as his father settled himself into the seat across from him, his eyes still remained on the paper lantern.
âRoman,â Damiano stated in a low, habitual growl.
âFather. Youâre late,â Roman says plainly, something that takes Damiano off guard, mocking laughter vibrating his large frame. There was an energy radiating off of Roman that had not been there years prior. Confidence. He was not asking for respect, but commanding it. Damiano recognized that there was little option for him in the matter. Had he beenâŚ? Had that time finallyâ
âIâm serious.â He momentarily tears his gaze away from the lantern in order to meet his fatherâs. âI expect the same standard of professionalism youâve always held me to. If I am to take over the mob one dayâ I expect that same level of respect.â
This response is enough to quiet the mob bossâ maybe more so out of shock then the respect he deeply desired, but it was a start. âI have several issues that I hoped to address with you today.â
There was a fierceness to his silenceâ one that subdued any ridicule, any possible patronization emitting from his father. He watched as his fatherâs eyes searched his stoic expression, waiting for the exact moment in which he would realize. Heâd suspected it, but acceptance would take much more effort on both their parts. Roman no longer feared him. He had cursed the invisible hand that guided him. bit it, fought it, bloodied it, rebuked it. The heir refused submissionâ he refused to be a vessel for his father to enact his torment. He wholly accepted his destiny, no longer seeing any use in running from itâ but the power he now recognized was entirely his own. Damiano had no choice but to listen. And this had been everything that heâd ever wanted. Everything heâd ever hoped for. A son who refused to take a shit, even from his own father. He had to ensure that it was not good to be true. That Roman was not merely enacting the facade of a leader.
He nodded, waiting for his son to continue.
âAs of recent, there are a few concerns Iâd like to address regarding the mobâs administration,â Roman began cooly, eyes still searching the paper lantern. âLong story shortâ youâve lost your touch. I donât think your pride would ever allow you to admit that to yourself, but everyone can see it. The world can see it. I know how much you care about the reputation of the mobâ which is why Iâm offering you an easy way out.â
Roman could see the tinges of anger permeate through his fatherâs being, but it meant nothing to the man who did not fear him. Not a boy, not a princeling, but a conqueror. Hearing that youâve lost your touch is never easy, Damiano knew better than most that he was getting old. He knew the time to usher in a new regime was rapidly approaching. But he also knew that Roman could not be asked to take the throne. He had to do so of his own volition. He had to command the throne. Demand that what was rightfully his be handed to him.
âThe easy way out would be you gradually transferring your duties as mob boss to me. Youâll tell everyone that in your old age, you think its best for you to spend time with your sickly wife. That it is time to usher in a new era. Youâll tell them that your mind isnât what it used to be, that dealing with your wifeâs debilitating disease has driven you to irrationality.â
In all 27 years of his life, Roman had never driven his father to the point of stupefaction. Confidence surged in every word he spoke. But he could not lose momentum. âThe difficult way out is youâll be forced out. I mean, technically, the first option doesnât leave you much of a choice either, but at least in that instance, your exit will be effortless on your end. I currently have a board of advisors within the ranks. I wonât reveal their names quite yet, though several of them will be fairly obvious. They wholly support my transition to the throne.â
Goade him. Test the thickness of the armor; ensure that it is authentic. Better you than anyone else. âYou canât seriously believe that youâreââ
âNo!â Roman begins through snarled teeth. âYou donât get to do this to me anymore. The gaslighting, the beratingâ you can entirely fuck off with all that, dad. I didnât call you into my office for you to listen to yourself talk. Youâre going to listen to me. I wonât let you destroy everything we worked for. I wonât let you destroy me. Not anymore.â  What was it that swelled in Damianoâs chest? Had it been⌠pride, perhaps?
âIâm ready. In fact, Iâve always been ready, father. I just was never what you wanted me to be. And Iâll never be who you want me to be. Iâll never be you and Iâll be a better man for it. A better leader for it.â
Damiano looks at Roman challenginglyâ expecting him to back down, to recoil as he always hasâ but Roman does not flinch. This was not the same boy who once mourned his lost love. Maybe Roman liked to believe so, but Damiano knew his son far better than that. He was different, maybe not in the way that heâd raised him to beâbut heâd been different. He had not molded himself to be fit for the throne but instead shaped it into something that would be fit for him. Damianoâs test had been nearly complete. âYou expect to lead a mob? Do you truly think you can garner the respect that I have?â
âAnd thatâs the difference between you and I. Meâ I never respected you. You convinced me that was what respect was, but that isnât respect. That is fear. Do you truly think this city respects you? Theyâre terrified of you! But me? I donât have to scare people into following me. They follow me out of choiceâ not because they believe it to be the only option. So letâs not make this any harder than it has to be, dad. Itâs over. Youâre over. What good have you or Cosimo brought to Verona from this stupid fucking war? Do either of you realize how ridiculous this all is? People are dying for your petty fucking war, and you donât even care!â
I came to give you a wake-up call. Youâll probably hate me for it in the long run, and guess what? Iâve accepted that. Youâll be a better man because of it. A stronger one. And thatâs what matters.
The authoritative air that seems to shimmer around Romanâ it was real. Roman was not performing heir as he once had. This was real and even Damiano could now recognize it. Heâd underestimated his son, a fault within himself that he was able to recognize. Maybe itâd been a result of his pride. Maybe he had lost sight of things. Maybe he and Cosimo had truly resorted to a petty pissing match. But nevermind that now.
He leaned back in his chair leisurely, hands coming together in a slow, dramatic clap. âIâm impressed, son. Truly. This backboneâ where is it coming from?â
âI know you would like to think itâs from you,â Roman begins, laughing almost mockingly. âI know that youâre apart of me. Iâm your blood after all. I tried to run from itâ fearing that I would become you and lose every other part of myself. I thought becoming you was the only way that I would be able to rule, and that scared the shit out of me. But then I realized somethingâ you have no true power. You only have as much power as everyone believes you to have. Without themâ your power means nothing. So if you would like that illusion to be kept for the remainder of your daysâ then I wouldnât cross me. Youâre in the way of what I want, and if forcing you out is what it takesâ then so be it.â Â
It had been this way for eons. Just as Kronos had overthrown his own father, Zeus had overthrown him. It had only been a matter of time. Even the gods got old and lost their touch. Even Damianoâs own father, whoâd barely possessed such likeness in the first place. It would happen to Roman with his future child eventuallyâ maybe not quite on the same terms, but it would happen with time.
âThis is your final offer, father. I truly wanted to make this as easy possible for you, even if you donât deserve it. After everything youâve doneâ you deserve far less courtesy than this. So letâs not make this difficult for either of us. You knew this day would come. You just never knew when. Let my board of advisors and I proceed as planned, and your retirement will be a happy and prosperous one.â He smiles that 1000 watt smileâ the one that will bring Verona to its knees. The smile that would end the war, that would finally usher in a new era. That smile had been the greatest weapon Damiano couldâve ever hoped forâ how was he just now realizing this? That was the advantage Roman had and the one Damiano possessed no longer. Â That tantalizing charisma, and a clean canvas of a mind.
His work here had been done. Damiano had been convinced. Romanâs belief in himself had been genuine. He felt warmthâ something he rarely felt at this point in his life, but it felt good. He was proud of his son. Of the leader, heâd become. But compassion had never been his way. Hw fumbled for the right words to say, something to encapture the depth of the pride he felt for his sonâ
âYou donât have to say it. I know youâre proud of me. I know that for whatever stupid reason you canât admit that toââ
âNo, Roman. You and your mother have shown me that it isnât always a weakness that comes from compassion, but vice versa. Sometimes it is your own weakness that prevents you from showing compassion. A valuable lesson I needed to learnâ even if it took more than half a century. Verona will be a better place because of you.â
He could see the emotion rousing in his son, the wetness settling in his eyes, and gods he had no desire to wait around while Roman ruined the moment.
Damiano began his exit in a single, furious motion.
âThank you,â Roman manages, stopping him in his tracks. Damiano offers him a single nod before shuffling out of the office.
And for the first time in 27 years, Roman Montague had the last word.
EXTRAS:
SIDENOTE: This was actually the first part of the long ass sample I made, but I realized it had LITERALLY 0 to do with Roman??? Like he wasnât even born let alone a thought? But it did help me find my daddy Dami and Mama Alba voice so it was fun afjwaeifj here you go!
VERONA, 1989
He heard her before he saw her.
There was something utterly engrossing about her voice, with the smokey richness only comparable to his favorite bourbon. But it was the huskiness that sold himâ her passion unwavering even as her voice threatened to fail her, presumably from her repeated shouts.
Damiano stopped briskly in his path. He was late, but his curiosity bested him.
She was ferocious in every aspectâ from the way her curls pooled heedlessly around her face, to her slender brows furrowed in determination. The dripping sweat only enhanced the bronze glow of her skin. Her willowy frame had been draped in a loosely fitted, Angela Davis t-shirt and dark bell-bottom jeans. She was chained to a towering tree, repeating over and over again,
Morte per gentrificazione!
Death to gentrification.
It was then he noticed everything else around them, the outside world previously silenced at the sight of her. Several police vehicles littered the surrounding street, as well as several aggravated men in suits discussing something fervently with a construction worker. He did not care to hear the circumstances of the situation from them, finding himself instantly pulled in the direction of the woman, disregarding the announcement made by several people that this was indeed private property he was entering. Even if he hadnât been so focused on herâ he couldnât have cared less. He stopped at what he thought was a respectful distance, close enough to hold a conversation, but hopefully not close enough to impede her personal space. His mouth opened in preparation to speak, but the stranger managed to beat him to the punchâ
âYou can tell your bosses to stop sending stuffy fucking corporate lawyers my way. I gave them my terms already, and theyâre non-negotiable.â
He blinked stupidly, not knowing how to react to her mistaking him for a stuffy, fucking corporate lawyer.
âIâ was actually hoping to gain more clarity on the circumstances of your protest. I just moved to this part of town, and Iâm not too familiar with the area.â
Her facial expression softened slightly, her eyes meeting his own with a raised brow. âQuite the nosey newcomer I see,â she begins challengingly yet playfully. âBut this, mio amico, is the location of homeless shelter and soup kitchen. These bastardi di maialeââ she shouts in their direction as she states this, ââwant to tear it down to build luxury apartments.â
This had evidently been enough to draw the attention of one of the bastardi di maiale, as he began his commute from the other bastardi, his face a sickly shade of salmon.
âThis is my property. What donât you get?! I have a right to do with it as I please. Now, if you donât plan on getting off my property, Iâll have you forcibly removed, cangââ
All it took was Damianoâs hand positioned in front of his face to disrupt his throaty rant.
âI would stop while I was ahead if I were you,â he offered to the significantly shorter man. âYou wouldnât want to say anything youâd later regret.â
Gargles of protest exited his throat as he attempted to scramble for a retort. âExcuse me? How dareââ
âYouâre going to sell me this property and go about your day. Understood?â Damiano says, lowering his hand. The woman watches him curiously, but his eyes remain on the bastardo.
âNow why the hell would I do that? This property is a gold mine! Iâll make miââ
âBecause your property wonât be worth merda once Iâm finished with it. Build your luxury apartments. Fine. You will be reminded of my wrath each and every day. Your tenants will gradually forget what peace ever felt like. Iâll buy your property for whatever you paid for it plus 5%. And the more you run that bastardo mouth of yours, the less generous I feel, and the lower the offer will become. Do I make myself clear?â
The coloration of his skin reddensâ a mixture of rage, embarrassment, and most likely fear. He did not truly need to build the apartments there, he supposed, and for some reasonâ his eyes met Damianoâs momentarily before returning to the groundâ this man was someone he did not desire to have on his bad side. Maybe building luxury apartments on the property of a homeless shelter hadnât been goodâ
âSir? Have you considered my terms?â Damiano says smoothly, but there is no tolerance in his tone.
âIâ accept your terms. We can draw up the paperwork immediately. I-It will be a pleasure doing business with you, signoreââ
âMontague. Damiano Montague.â
The manâs eyes widened; heâd heard that name on some occasions, but never had the opportunity to meet the man in person. Heâd been the man taking Verona by storm, with such a tightly held grasp that he did not need a face to accomplish such feats. He simply needed a name, and that was enough to bring the despondent city to its knees.
âSi-Signore Montague, itâs a p-pleasureââ
Damianoâs hand returned to its former place, heading the manâs blubberings once more. âNow, I would like to return to the conversation I was having with my companion before we were rudely interrupted by your ramblings. For the moment being, Iâd like you out of my sight.â
His lip trembled but he did not protestâ returning to the group of now wide-eyed bastardi di maiale. He returns his attentions to the strange womanâ her arms now crossed, studying him peculiarly, attempting to figure out what he was after.
âNow that heâs taken care ofââ he began with a sigh of relief. âTell me more about this building. I hope to restore it to its former glory. In fact, I hope to make it even grander than before; in order to reach even more people than the original owners couldâve ever imagined possible. With your help, if youâd be willing, that is.â
She undid the chain, before sizing Damiano up, something not difficult for her to do as she could not have been more than two inches shorter than him. He couldnât blame her for being wary of his intentions. This had all occurred in a span of fewer than fifteen minutes, after all. âWhy would you need my help? You seem to have things pretty well handled.â
âThis place means something to you. It means something to you to the point where you were willing to chain yourself to a tree and face off with these wealthy bastardi di maiale. You didnât care about the consequences you might possibly face. The people are what was most important. They mean something to you, and quite frankly, something tells me youâd do a much better job of running it than I.â
She ponders his proposition silently for a few moments, before offering him her hand to shake. âSounds like we have a deal. Alba Fascelli.â He shook her hand, before carefully bringing it to his lips, silently requesting her permission, only proceeding when she nodded. âI hope you know itâll take more than a grand gesture to win me over, Dami. You havenât even asked me out on a date yet.â
Damiano smiled warmly, as the familiarity the nickname roused within him made him feel as if heâd known her for years. âTrust meâ I knew from the moment I walked over here that it would take far more than this to win you over. But Iâve never been one to step down from a challenge.â
She allowed her hand to linger in his for a moment longer, before crossing in front of him and releasing it. â0458446149. Iâll let you know when Iâm available. Do forward more details about To Tame a Soup at your earliest convenience.â
He waved stiffly, still slightly stunned over her presence. âAddio, Alba.â
Alba. The name whose meaning he would come to understand later on in life. Sunrise. It would take meeting Alba for Damiano to realize that in his 27 years of life, the sun had not truly risenâ not until meeting her, that is.
hereâs his inspo tag!
thereâs probably hella typos pls forgive me and tumblr deleted all my bold stuff and iâm sickkkkk but iâm too tired to fix it :/
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8x22: Clip Show
Then:
Cas almost gets hit on by DeanÂ
Now:
Lost Creek, Colorado
A couple are at a cabin in the woods, and the woman is so happy that her boyfriend finally joined her. He acts like itâs no big deal but we flash back to a memory âspecifically of Supernatural season 1, episode 2: Wendigo. Heâs Tommy and has some serious PTSD from the terror he experienced that night in the woods.
He thinks he hears a growl and pulls his girlfriend away from the window. He knows that a Wendigo is outside and pulls out a flare to take the unseen monster out. He crumples to the floor and then just explodes right in front of his girlfriend. Eeerp.
At the bunker, the brothers continue to find records that the Men of Letters have kept over the years. Samâs not doing so well due to all the Trials. Heâll feel better once they finish them.
Cas shows up in the war room, and it appears that Dean and Cas didnât follow the golden rule of not going to bed angry. Dean doesnât even acknowledge the angel. Cas is still convalescing. He sits down to talk with Sam a bit about the trials. Dean comes back with food for Samâwell, jerky, beer, and peanut butter cups.Â
Cas offers to go with Dean for more food, but still gets the cold shoulder. âIâm sorry.â âFor what?â âFor everything.â Classic DeanCas, lol. (Brb, off to throw myself off a cliff.) Oh wait thereâs more, Dean calls out Cas with the whole bolting with the angel tablet and adds, âYou didnât trust me?âÂ
THESE BOYS ARE NOT IN LOVE:
Cas is contrite but Dean is not accepting his apology. Sam stays out of it all for a bit but interrupts eventually to pull Dean aside to make it clear that Cas is one of the good guys. Whatâs that saying? Deanâs harder on Cas because he loves him the most? Well, meh, I do like their later seasons of grumpy banter more than the divisiveness of right now.
In any event, the brothers head to a storage room.Â
Sam wants to find a case that their records mentioned. He finds the box, and Dean finds a dungeon! Samâs box contained a movie film.
They set up the movie (They even made popcorn, guys!)
Itâs an old black and white film of the Men of Letters. Josie, the woman that Abaddon possessed, is filming the experiment. They have a demon captured in the very dungeon the Winchesters just discovered. They throw holy water on the demon, recite an incantation at it, and then one priest cuts his hand and presses it on the demon. It flares out, apparently gone. The film stops. It was weird (!!!) One of the priests is still alive and Sam thinks itâs a good idea to get the lowdown on what they just watched on the film. Cas wants to go too but Dean wonât hear of it. (Brb, flinging myself off another cliff. DO NOT LIKE.)
Cut to the brothers meeting with the priest. He tells them that the other priest believed that demons could be saved. He thought that they could cure the demon and they could be a normal human soul again. There were other experiments after that one attempt, and then the priest ended up dead a couple months later. Something had torn him apart. Sam tries asking about records but goes into a coughing fit, complete with blood. He heads to the bathroom while Dean continues to talk with the priest. The priest agrees to give them the other priestâs papers.
Meanwhile, Cas is on a mission to make up with Dean. Heâs at a Gas ân Sip and pulling all the essentials to make Dean like him again.
Ways to woo Dean Winchester:
Beef Jerky
Porn
TP
Beer
Protein
AND Smiting the sap who canât provide the pie
Cas almost smites the poor attendant. Metatron interrupts. They need to talk.
He wants to talk about Heaven. Itâs apparently a mess up there without the archangels. Naomi isnât in charge as much as sheâs led Cas believe. Cas blames himself for everything thatâs happened in heaven. (URGH, no! âI mean, yeah, but NO). Metatron thinks they can buddy up and save the day! They can sort everything out. First, they need to shut down Heaven. Then he mentioned crepes and flies away.
At the bunker, Sam canât find Cas. Dean doesnât care (URGH, no!) They decide to watch the last audio recording before the priest died.
Once again, thereâs a demon in chains. This time, the priest injects the demon with purified blood. He continues to do this 8 times. And the demon seems to be cured.Â
They decide to try the experiment out on their own decapitated Abaddon.
Meanwhile, Cas flaps over to Metatronâs brunch location, a cute restaurant with an outdoor patio overlooking the water. Itâs a perfect place to relax!
Iconic dialogue alert:Â
Waitress: Cool coat.
Cas: No, it's actually quite warm.
Waitress: Cute and funny. OkayâŚ
Metatron: I should have picked a better looking vessel.
Youâre not here to accidentally flirt with the waitstaff, Castiel! Cas asks for clarification on Metatronâs quest to close the gates of Heaven. Metatron waves it away as just another godly safety switch - youâve got one for leviathans, demons, and Heaven, of course. Metatron tells Cas that itâs time for a heavenly lock-in to work out all their feelings. And he needs Cas, the warrior, to do it. Cas owns to feeling responsibility for the current state of Heaven but recoils when he hears the first trial. Heâll need to cut out the heart of the cute waitress, the sole nephilim on earth. (Pronounced in this episode as neph-IL-im.) âWhatâs more important?â Metatron asks. âHer life? Or your family?â
With season 9 under my belt, I watch Dean and Sam sewing Abaddonâs head on with particular horror. Like, you took on the Mark of Cain to defeat her, Dean Bean. Which led to a whole bucket of depression and sad men. Nobody likes buckets of sad men. (JK obviously I love it or what am I even doing here?) What a spectacularly bad idea! Still, it wouldnât be my beloved show if characters were making smart choices. Abaddon wakes up, cracks her stitched neck, and greets them with âMorning, sunshines.âÂ
âI canât wait to tear out those pretty green eyes,â she says, lovingly. The Winchesters smirk, drawing her attention to her handless state. (They chopped off her hands - or maybe just left them detached.)Â âIâll stump you to death,â she says and...thatâs the spirit, Abaddon! She knows about the priest and his work curing demons. In fact, she was a special dispatch straight from Hell to make an example of him. The priest led her to Josie and possessing Josie helped her dismantle the entire Men of Letters network. Yeesh.Â
The phone rings. Itâs Crowley! Abaddon is appalled to learn that Crowley is the King of Hell. Dean and Sam leave the room to talk to Crowley and FOR THE LOVE OF GOD BOYS they leave Abaddon alone.Â
Outside, the Winchesters chat with Crowley. He directs them to some news stories, âsextsâ them an address, and bids them farewell. They discover that Crowleyâs been putting out hits on people the Winchesters have saved.Â
While Crowleyâs giving them the news, Abaddon makes like Thing from the Addams family and puppets her hands out of the loosely closed box on the table.
Her hand crawls into her mouth and pries out the demon trap bullet. Itâs freedom time, mofos.Â
The Winchesters return to find Abaddon gone. You FOOLS! Sam keeps his eyes on the prize, though. Crowleyâs latest address is from their âwitches and baked goodsâ case and is clearly a trap. Time to make a play to catch themselves a different demon.Â
Prosperity, Indiana
The powerâs out in the targetâs apartment (and so are the cupcakes! yum!) Unfortunately, Jennieâs body is also out - sticking out of the oven, that is. âYou were a great gal, Jennie Klein,â Dean says and...okay? Great mourning, everyone.Â
Crowley calls them up again. Heâs killing off everyone theyâve saved (and using the books as a reference guide) until they deliver the demon tablet to him.Â
Metatron and Castiel stalk the waitress outside her place of work, Metatron goading Cas to make a choice. Urg. Itâs just the bad decisions gang all around. She whirls around to confront them and saves them the trouble of introductions. âI could see your halos.â (I start to hum BeyoncĂŠ to avoid thinking about this next part.) Metatron calls her an abomination and she begs to be allowed to just live her life. (She apparently works twelve hours shifts as a waitress, for heavenâs sake. Itâs not like sheâs exploiting her power.) Cas looks disturbed, apologizing even as he advances on her. She throws him across the grounds like heâs nothing and then advances on Metatron. Castiel kills her from behind. Oof.Â
The Winchesters race to the next location, only to discover Sarah - the art dealer Sam flirted heavily with several seasons ago. Sheâs staying in a seriously adorable hotel room, with actual art on display. Dean greets her like heâs just dropped by for a casual visit. OMG Dean. Sam briefs her on the plan. Devilâs traps at all the exits, shotguns, and an exorcism ready to play on loop. We learn that Sarahâs married with a kid. (Sam gets a peek at what-could-have-been.) Sarah tells him that heâs changed - heâs more confident and grown up. She misses the old haircut. AwwwâŚÂ
Crowley calls and starts counting down and when he reaches zero, Sarah starts to choke. She collapses. âYou son of a bitch!â Dean shouts. âSon of a witch,â Crowley clarifies - his mother taught him a few useful spells. The Winchesters start tearing apart the room to try and find a hex bag. Crowley continues his villain monologue: heâs keeping all things hell-related far away from the Winchesters - no more demons getting close enough for them to kill.Â
âI think the people you save, they're how you justify your pathetic little lives. The alcoholism, the collateral damage, the pain you've caused â the ONE thing that allows you to sleep at night, the one thing is knowing that these folks are out there, still out there happy and healthy because of you, you great, big, bloody heroes!â
I mean, when Crowleyâs right, heâs right.Â
Sarah dies. Ugh. UGH. Crowley gives an ultimatum: they stop their quest to close Hell or people keep dying. In rage, Dean hurls the phone across the room. When it breaks, they finally find the hex bag. (Me: But okay she only stopped breathing a minute ago? Start CCR and call 911!)
Back at the bunker, Sam is Not Okay⢠and does not respond well to Deanâs attempts to cheer him up. Sam, who continues to look awful and exhausted, suggests giving in to Crowley. âWeâll kick it in the ass like we always do,â Dean insists. Rousing speech, babe.Â
We fade to black, with everyone we love on dark paths of one kind or another.
______________________________
I NEED Quotes:
Well, that was weird with three exclamation points.
I NEED pie.
I can't wait to tear out those pretty green eyes.
First things first â what are you wearing?
Youâd better find him toot-bloody-sweet.Â
I know this is insane, but insane is kind of what we do.
______________________________
Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!Â
#spn recap#spn rewatch#spn 8x22#clip show#dean winchester#sam winchester#castiel#cas#metatron#crowley#sarah blake#abaddon#supernatural season 8
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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Nine: Folk Singer ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, HyĹŤga Hinata, Uchiha Itachi ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Divine Light ] [ AO3 Link ]
Theyâve been on the road for nearly a week without respite. And while Sasuke has no qualms about roughing it out of doors, he has concern for his brotherâs condition. After all, despite having a light mage with them...heâs not yet been fully cured. While she has the inner talents for it...she lacks the knowledge to truly apply it.
Hence the hare-brained quest to make it back to the abandoned capital of her people to find - or so they hope - the proper information to heal him completely. Until then, sheâs using what sheâs learned by trial and error over the years to keep him stable...but the travel is wearing on him. Itâs easy enough to tell.
âOne nightâs stay isnât going to be enough,â he insists the evening before theyâre set to enter the next town on their route. âWe have to take at least two in order to let him recover properly.â
â...Iâve no issue with that,â is her reply. âWe can balance a good pace with proper rest. For now, Iâve managed his symptoms well enough. A few daysâ break from our journey wonât hinder us in the grand scheme of things.â
âGood. And...donât tell him it was my idea. Heâll only insist otherwise.â
She gives a small, knowing smile. âIâd guessed well enough. Should it come from his healerâs lips, heâll surely listen.â
Satisfied, he retires to a place by the fire heâs started with his own fire energy. Part of him is still wary of that woman...even if he canât precisely name why.
Coming up from nearby, Hinata puts a stopper in her waterskin. âThere...that should last until we get to town tomorrow.â
âDonât worry about it too much - weâll be staying in town a few days.â
That earns a blink. â...really?â
âItachi needs a break - light mageâs orders.â Might as well lay it on for her sake, too.
â...oh! Well, thatâs good...maybe we can pick up some supplies. Do some trading, or...m-maybe find some small jobs while weâre there for some coin.â
âSo long as weâre careful. Donât need to stir up any trouble. Not every city is friendly to our kinds, remember?â
âI know,â she replies softly, sitting beside him. âBut people will pay for the convenience of ven. You just have to know whoâs sincere, and who would turn you in.â
âAnd thatâs not always so easy to see.â
âTrue...but something simple, just for a few gold, wouldnât hurt.â
âMmâŚâ Sasuke doesnât agree either way. Heâd rather just lay low and rest...but she has a point. True, he can hunt well enough...and her skills mean never running out of water. But a few basic supplies and comforts they can come across while still back in civilization certainly wouldnât hurt.
Maybe even just something simple...like those sweets his brother has always liked. Sasukeâs always been the sort to spoil his elder brother. Perhaps a bit backwards, but...given their difference in health, itâs to be expected.
He takes first watch, the night quiet as the rest of his party sleeps. Itachi gave no argument to the light mageâs insistence he rest, and Sasuke breathes a quiet sigh of relief. Some respite from the road and saddle will do him good. Let him regather some energy and spirit before they take the next leg of their journey.
Hinata takes the second half of the night, and they all rise come sunup. Tearing down camp as theyâre by now well-practiced, the group saddle and mount their horses before continuing down the path.
By noon, the cityâs in sight. A humble place, but clearly of decent size. They soon merge into traffic of carts and other riders all looking to get to the same place.
âFeels like itâs been forever since weâve been in town,â Hinata notes. âEspecially one like this!â
âA welcome break,â Sasuke agrees, looking to the tiered stone walls. It looks decently fortified, swaths of land having been cleared for several acres to make farmland from what was once forest. They pass through farms first before arriving to the city proper.
Hoods on, they pass with the rest of the traveling crowds without problem. Sasuke can sense a few others like them - those with far brighter, colored auras than the blessless mor around them.
Immediately, theyâre swept into the bustle of town. They pull to one side to reorganize.
âWeâll find an inn, first - lay claim to some rooms, then see about resupplying. Otherwise...I suppose weâre all free to do what we must until weâre rested. Just take care not to draw undue attention. Last I heard, this place is fairly tolerant of elves...but best to be cautious. Keep your heads down, and weâll take our leave without any trouble.â
The party all nod, heading further in. Clearly a town of trade, finding an inn with rooms to spare takes until late afternoon, stabling their mounts and finding two rooms: one for each pair of men and women.
âIâd best tend to Itachi for a time. Would you two mind scoping out some supplies? Iâm sure you know well enough by now what to look for. Otherwise...youâve the evening to yourselves!â
Sasuke nods, heading out with Hinata into the streets. Markets are busy, but they replace worn cloaks and lacking foodstuffs, ensuring they have what they need before leaving in the following days.
â...oh!â
Turning as Hinata pauses, Sasuke perks a brow. â...what?â
âDo you hear that?â
â...hear what?â
âMusic!â
Before he can clarify, she walks briskly in another direction, forcing him to follow as not to be separated. They both know their inn, but best to remain together.
In a square not far, seated along the rim of a fountain, is what appears to be a bard. One leg atop the other, umber hair twisted into two piled braids atop her head, she strums a loot and sings heartily to the crowds. Several have stopped to listen...and a few even make to dance.
âLook! A folksinger!â
â...what?â
âThey sing traditional songs! You know, like auditory history. Tales of battles and sieges, and other events. They turn it into s-song, and keep traditions. Itâs easier to remember when set to music and rhyme. I know a few, but...well, Iâm not one to sing.â
Sasuke eyes the gathering a bit warily. It seems jovial enough...but heâs not eager to attract attention to themselves. â...do you want to sit and listen?â
âCan we?â
âSo long as weâre still and quiet.â
Only lightly burdened, the pair find a nearby bench, perching atop it to take in the sounds for a time. Sasuke knows none of the words, or even the tales told, but he patiently takes it in. While heâs studied plenty by scroll and tome...thereâs something pleasant about a history lesson set to rhythm and rhyme.
Beside him, nodding in time, Hinata smiles and listens attentively. At one point, he sees her mouth along, familiar with whatever particular ballad is sung.
...he almost wishes sheâd sing. Something tells him she must have a beautiful voice.
Between songs, the bard gives smiles and nods of thanks as spare coppers and silvers are given into a chipped wooden bucket.
â...do you think it safe to give her some?â
Sasuke glances to his companion. â...I can think of better ways to spend our coin.â
âBut weâve sat and enjoyed her craft! She should be rewarded for her talent, and the work she gives it.â Making up her mind, Hinata rises despite Sasukeâs momentary rebuke.
In the end he relents (itâs not like he can ever stop her once sheâs made up her mind), watching as she gives the tip and even a curtsy to the musician. The woman smiles and laughs in turn, bowing in return as best she can over the instrument in her lap.
Around Hinata, several kids take to dancing as the music starts up once more. Amused, Sasuke watches as they weave to and fro, making the path back a bit laborious. But eventually she makes it, sitting with a breathless laugh. âWell...this has been fun! I canât remember the last time I got to hear musicâŚâ
âMaybe we need a bard in our party,â Sasuke muses, earning a soft snort.
âI think weâre crowded as it is. As grand as our adventure is...I donât think it yet w-worthy of song.â
âNot yet, perhaps...but maybe someday.â
âMaybe someday.â
With that, the pair make their way back to the inn as evening falls. The rest of their party is down in the belly of the inn eating, and they quickly join them.
âHave a good romp through the city?â Itachi asks, and Sasuke is glad to find him already brighter-eyed.
âAye. Stopped and listened to a bard for a time...and I think weâve all we need.â
âWell, weâll be here until the morn after next - weâve time to make sure nothing is missed.â
With full bellies, they retire to their rooms: the women to one, the men to another. âGoodnight,â they all call, shutting doors and getting ready to sleep.
âDid you know any of the bardâs songs?â Itachi asks once tucked into bed.
âNo...Iâve no talent for music, nor interest. But Hinata seemed to recognize one or two.â
âShe seems the sort, yes. Perhaps we can see if she is there again tomorrow, this bard. Iâd like to sit and listen for a time, enjoy the sunâŚâ
âIâm sure we can.â
âPerhaps you can have a dance,â the elder brother mumbles, clearly slipping into sleep.
Perking a brow, Sasuke doesnât answer. In truth...he did consider it...but, well...maybe tomorrow.
                               .oOo.
   Oooof it's late, so I'll be brief~    More crossover with my original fantasy verse! This time we find our heroes having a bit of a break. Poor Itachi needs it. And at least the rest can also benefit from a little time off the road. A little music always helps rejuvenate the soul~    But yeah, on that note...I need sleep, lol - thanks for reading!
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