#verona can like… barely cook

[sofiaispunk]

dbf!Joel Miller x Reader - Part 2

Your heart raced as you heard the knock at the door. You knew who it was before your parents even got up to answer it. Joel had arrived for Thanksgiving dinner. You felt a mix of excitement and nervousness at the thought of seeing him. Your palms were slightly starting to sweat.

He was dressed in a tight blue t-shirt and a light blue Jeans jacket, and as always, he looked impeccable. Irene and Sarah were with him, both of them smiling politely as they greeted your parents.

Your mother hugged Irene and Sarah tightly, welcoming them warmly.

"Joel, my boy! It's good to see you! How have you been?" your father said, giving his friend a big bear hug.

You watched as Joels expression changed, his smile faltering slightly. "Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Just trying to keep the business afloat."

Your father nodded, his smile never faltering. "I'm sure you're doing great. I heard you landed that new contract."

As they chatted, you found yourself drawn to Joel, unable to take your eyes off of him. You were struck by how handsome he looked in his tight fitted shirt, and you couldn't help but notice the way his toned shoulders filled out the jacket.

"How's college treating you, darlin'?" Joel asked suddenly, turning to you with a warm smile.

You blushed, suddenly feeling self-conscious being caught starring so openly at him. "It's good. Busy, but good."

Joel chuckled. "That's good to hear. I'm sure you're doing great."

You couldn't help but feel a thrill at the way he was looking at you, his deep brown eyes seeming to see right through your soul. You knew it was wrong to feel this way, but you couldn't help it. You were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

As you all settled into the living room, you tried to ignore the way your heart was racing. You sat down next to Sarah who was so happy to see you. 

Everyone was seated and the conversation started to flow freely. The smell of roast turkey and savory stuffing filled the air, making your mouth water.

Your mother had gone all out with the cooking, making sure that everything was perfect for the occasion. There were mashed potatoes, green beans, gravy, cranberry sauce, and of course, the delicious pumpkin pie for dessert.

As you started to eat, you noticed that there was an icy mood between Irene and Joel. They were seated next to each other with a small distance but barely acknowledging each other's presence.

You wondered if anyone else had noticed the tension, but it seemed like everyone was too caught up in their own conversations to pay much attention.

Thankfully Sarah, was as bubbly as ever, talking about her school and her friends with enthusiasm. She was telling you all about the latest drama in her theater class, and you couldn't help but smile at her energy.

"So, we're doing this play, right? And I got the lead role! Can you believe it? I was so nervous at first, but now I'm super excited. We've been rehearsing every day after school, and it's been so much fun."

You smiled at Sarah's excitement, "That's amazing, Sarah! I'm so happy for you. What's the play about?"

"It's a modern retelling of Romeo and Juliet," Sarah replied, her eyes lighting up. "Except instead of Verona, it's set in New York City. And instead of the Montagues and Capulets, it's two rival gangs. It's going to be so cool!"

"That sounds really interesting," you said, impressed. "I'd love to come see it when it's done."

Sarah beamed at the idea, "Oh my gosh, that would be awesome! I'll make sure to let you know when it's showing."

As the conversation turned to other topics, you couldn't help but feel grateful for Sarah's infectious energy. She was a bright spot in the midst of all the tension between Joel and Irene. The conversation moved on but you were to focused on the meal in front of you and Sarahs school stories to pay closer attention on what was going on. 

At one point, Joel started to speak, his tone a sharp whisper, "Irene, I don't think now is the time or the place to discuss this."

You felt uncomfortable listening to their exchange, unsure of what exactly they were talking about but you could tell it was serious.

Irene ignored Joel's plea, her voice getting louder, "What, you think you can just sweep everything under the rug and pretend nothing's wrong? You've been distant for months, Joel. You can't just expect me to ignore it. You are even ignoring me here, at your best friends house."

Joel's tone was low and measured, "Irene, I know we have things to talk about, but can we please do it privately? Not here, not now."

Irene didn't seem to be listening, "I'm tired of pretending everything's okay. It's not fair, Joel. I deserve better than this."

Joel looked down at his plate, his eyes heavy. You felt a pang of sympathy for him, wondering what he could have possibly done to cause such a rift between them.

Your mother cleared her throat, breaking the tension, "Why don't we all take a break and enjoy some pie?"

The conversation shifted, and everyone started talking about the delicious dessert.

After dinner, you excused yourself from the table and stepped out onto the patio. You breathed in the cool, crisp air and felt a sense of calm wash over you. You heard footsteps behind you and turned to see Joel approaching, holding two beers in his hand.

"Mind if I join you?" Joel asked, gesturing to the empty seat next to you.

You hook her head, "No, of course not. Thanks for the beer."

Joel took a sip of his own drink, "No problem. I figured you could use one after that dinner."

You chuckled, "Yeah, it was a bit intense."

Joel's expression softened, "I'm sorry about that. I know things got a little tense with me and Irene."

You nodded sympathetically, "Yeah, I could tell. Is everything okay?"

Joel sighed, "No, not really. Irene and I are going through some things right now."

You immediately felt a pang of sadness for Joel, "I'm sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Joel smiled at you, "Just talking to you helps, sweetheart. You always know how to make me feel better."

You felt her cheeks flush at the compliment, “ I'm here for you y’ know, if you need anything."

You sat in silence for a few moments, sipping your beers and looking out at the night sky. There it was again, this connection forming between you, a bond that went beyond just friendship, an understanding without words. There is no way he doesn’t feel it too, right? You shook your head to shake those thoughts away. Of course he doesn’t. He’s married and you are half is age. 

Joel spoke up, breaking the silence, "You know, I've always admired your spirit. You're so driven and passionate about the things you believe in. I wish I had half the energy you do."

You felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words, "Thanks, Joel. That means a lot coming from you."

Joel leaned closer to her, "You're special, kid. Don't ever forget that." Kid. There it was, the nickname you dreaded. Of course he saw you as a kid, his best friends kid. But you had no time to dwell on your heartbreak this little word caused, because you heard Sarah calling out your name.

“Oh hey, guys! Are you still out here?" she called out from the doorway.

You turned to see Sarah standing there with a bright smile on her face, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Yeah, we're out here," you said, smiling back at her.

Sarah stepped outside, "I was wondering if you wanted to come to the fair with me tomorrow. Uncle Tommy is coming too!"

Your eyes immediately found Joel's and you gave him an unsure smile, "Oh, um, I don't want to intrude on your family time."

Joel interjected, "Nonsense, darlin’. We'd love to have you come with us." 

Your heart skipped a beat at the prospect of spending an afternoon with Joel.

“Okay, I'll come."

Sarah clapped her hands together in excitement, "Yay! It's going to be so much fun!"

Joel turned to you, "We should probably get some rest then. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

Joel stood up and offered his hand to you, helping you up from your chair. You noticed that his hand lingered a second longer on your hand than necessary. Or were you just imaging things? At this point your mind was clouded with excitement for the next day and there was no way you could form a single straight thought. Both, your body and your mind was consumed entirely by Joel Miller.

Part 3

[robbiefletcher]

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

statistics.

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

inspirations.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

other things.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ariel-seagull-wings]

@giuliettaluce

DIRECTOR INTERVIEW

Director Neil Barlett discusses his 2008 production as he was just beginning to cast the actors.

At its very simplest level Romeo and Juliet is a powerful love story. What other key themes are you looking to bring to the fore?

I think Romeo and Juliet is one of the great plays about family - in particular, about how families can stifle and damage their children even while they believe and claim that they are loving them. And it's a great play about how a world which only values young women when they 'behave' and young men when they don't is a world doomed to repeat its mistakes forever. 

Some of your previous productions have involved cross gender casting, will you be doing this with Romeo and Juliet?

Casting this play is thrilling - there are no dull parts! And the task is to find actors who can make you see afresh characters who a lot of people think they already know. Unlike Shakespeare, who wrote the part of Juliet for a young man, I'm going to cast a young woman.

In some of his plays (like Twelfth Night, which I did last year for the RSC with men playing women and women playing men) he is especially interesting in foregrounding the comedy and the eroticism of the confusions that cross-dressing on stage is so good at creating - things which he and his audience both clearly loved. But in Romeo and Juliet the energy of the play comes from the fact that the division of the sexes is rigid, conventional, well-policed, watched over buy the forces of Family and Church and so this time I'm going to do something which would have shocked an Elizabethan audience rigid - give the women's parts to women!

Can you tell us a bit more about the design for the costumes and set?

Romeo and Juliet is very much a play about Italy - the world of the play is very Catholic, very patriarchal, full of references to mid-day heat and short Italian tempers.

My designer Kandis Cook and I have been looking at the early films of Visconti and Pasolini and Fellini, and of course at Coppola's Italy in the Godfather trilogy. There is something about the clothes of 1940s and 50s Italy that seems very right; very sexy yet proper for the women, very macho for the men, all very conservative and repressed, both very body-denying and body-revealing. So the Nurse is going to look like an Italian widow, the Friar like a Catholic priest, the young men like the kind of sharp-suited boys in sunglasses you still see in the pavement cafes of Milan, Rome and Verona.

As for the set: the story of Romeo and Juliet has to go like a train, so you don't want to wait around for scene changes. The scenery is all in the words anyway. We're going to do it on a bare, open stage, creating all the locations with just a bed, a ladder and a few chairs and changing the atmosphere with just lights and music.

Did I mention that there's going to be a seven-musician-strong Italian fiesta band joining the company of 23 actors on stage..?

We hear you're experimenting with the choreography for the fight scenes and are not using swords...

Romeo and Juliet isn't a play about how sexy or entertaining violence is - it shows you how, step by dreadful step, male rivalry and machismo can, in just a few minutes, lead to a blade ripping into someone's body.

Because of the period we're putting the play in, the men will be carrying knives, rather than waving swords around. When you carry a knife, it colours the whole way you move, as well as the way you think and act. So I've asked my fight director Alison de Burgh to start with those ideas - not to think of the fights as swashbuckling interludes, but to make us really see the how and the why of violence erupting into daily life. It's pretty shocking - there's blood on the floor within minutes of the curtain going up.

Romeo and Juliet is one of Shakespeare's most well loved plays. Why do you think it has this enduring appeal?

People talk a lot about Romeo and Juliet being 'universal' - well, yes, all of us die, and all of us love, and all of us grieve - and Shakespeare finds words and images for those things that can speak directly to all sorts of people. But the play is actually about some very particular things, and it just so happens that with regard to these particular things the world hasn't changed so much since the year the play was written as we like to think.

We still tend to reward and value daughters when they 'behave', and reward and value boys when they misbehave. We still live in a culture where the values of patriarchy and religion - as expressed in the power of men over women, the power of families over their children - still conspire to stifle and damage just when they claim to love and nurture. Or, as Phillip Larkin put it so much more succinctly, "They f**k you up, your mum and dad; they don't mean to, but they do".

All of the parents and parent surrogates in the play believe they are doing the right thing - so why is it that the play ends with a city grieving over the corpses of two suicidal teenagers? We still don't have an answer to that question.

Have you directed the play before? Does it hold a particular appeal for you?

Romeo and Juliet was one of the first plays I directed during my time as Artistic Director of the Lyric Hammersmith - that was 15 years ago. I had fewer that half the number of performers I've got this time, and no money for set or costumes!

I think I love the play even more now than I did then. Perhaps now I can see the story from both sides of the generation divide - the cruelty, and the pathos, of the way the older people in the play are portrayed is astonishing.

But maybe, ultimately, I love it because I can still remember exactly what it feels like to be a teenager desperate to get your hands on someone, and knowing that that is forbidden, and I think there are moments in this play that speak about that feeling better than almost anything else.

Most people know how the play ends – how will you deal with this as a director?

Everyone knows how the play ends - but they always did, because Shakespeare tells you how the play ends right at the very beginning, in the famous opening chorus:

'Two households, both alike in dignity...."

He tells you that the lovers are going to die, that the vendetta between the two families is about the claim two new and innocent victims. So the play isn't about what is going to happen to these two beautiful young people; it is about how it happens - and, even more, about why it happens.

The Prince says, at the very end of the play, that the people of Verona should go away and talk about what has happened, about who should be punished and who forgiven now that the tragedy has happened. He means us, of course. We're the ones who need to talk. Tell the story with passion and clarity - and let the audience do the rest. That's my approach.

I think Romeo and Juliet is one of the great plays about family - in particular, about how families can stifle and damage their children even while they believe and claim that they are loving them. And it's a great play about how a world which only values young women when they 'behave' and young men when they don't is a world doomed to repeat its mistakes forever. 

SET DESIGN, COSTUMES AND MUSIC

The design and music choices made by director Neil Bartlett and designer Kandis Cook.

TIME AND PLACE

Why set the play in Italy in the mid 20th century? Director Neil Bartlett and designer Kandis Cook felt that Romeo and Juliet needed to be set in a 'violently conservative society', a world where tight, archaic, policed conformity was in the air that the characters breathed. They felt that Italy in the early- to mid-20th century was ideal because:

It was a place where family vendettas could affect the lives of everyone in a small town

It was a patriarchal society; a 'man's world' where young women are confined to live within the home but young men are free to do as they please

It represented the Catholicism of the play (where going to church is important and the language evokes saints and religious icons)

They decided to keep the setting to the middle of the 20th century, but not a particular place or time.

SET DESIGN

When thinking of the visual world of the play, the first question that Neil and Kandis asked was: Why would there be anything on stage? With an acting company of 23, plus seven musicians, the space could be filled easily with just people. But Neil explained that the action in Romeo and Juliet moves at an very fast pace, cutting from scene to scene and changing location rapidly. To accommodate the storytelling and the numbers of people on stage, they decided to have a bare stage. The bare brick wall at the back was designed to echo the chilly damp churches you might visit in Italy - at odds with the heat and light outside. In the balcony scene, Romeo climbs over the wall and into Juliet's orchard garden.

The only pieces of set were chairs and Juliet's bed - which was also used as the balcony where it represents a private space where Juliet feels she can be herself.

The last scene in the play which takes place in the Capulet tomb contained the only major set change - the back wall split and moved down-stage. Neil felt that this scene is different from the others because Shakespeare brings everyone into the space to face the consequences of their actions. Juliet lies dead on her bed, surrounded by high metal railings which Romeo smashed through to be with her.

COSTUMES

The world of Verona was created by the costuming in this production. Around the walls of the rehearsal room, Kandis stuck print-outs and copies of images from her sources of inspiration:

Italian movies of Visconti and Fellini

Italian fashion shows in the 1950s

Itatian weddings in the 1950s

In rehearsals, the actors were asked to look at these images and share something they had noticed about them. Some of the things they noted were:

The weight and quality of the clothing

How stark the images were - everything was highly contrasted black and white

Wealth and family were important

Everyone had poise

There was a flamboyance to the characters

No-one was smiling

The images showed both passion and respect

MUSIC

Neil wanted the seven-piece band to be an integral part of the storytelling. Inspired by the film The Godfather, Neil wanted to use music to punctuate the action with raucous rough, vigorous sound. The band were modelled on an Italian municipal marching band comprising: piccolo, clarinet/soprano, saxophone, two trumpets, a trombone, a piano accordion and a bass drum.

[misswarmnights]

Romeo and Friar Laurence

Fandom: Romeo and Juliet (1968)

Summary: Just a short little story about the friendship between Romeo and Friar Laurence.

Characters: Romeo Montague, Friar Laurence

Word Count: 783

It was a calm afternoon. The sun shined down on the beautiful green countryside of Verona. Romeo Montague went to visit his good friend Friar Laurence, one of the few older people that he could talk to about anything.

Friar Laurence was dressed in the brown robe that he always wore. He was barefoot. He smiled and welcomed his young friend who greeted him with a kiss on the hand.

“I was just about to prepare some tea,” Friar Laurence said. “Would you care to join me for tea and lunch?”

“I would love to,” Romeo answered.

They both went to the kitchen. Friar Laurence brought out the kettle and some freshly gathered tea leaves.

Romeo suddenly got a dreamy look in his sapphire blue eyes. He clasped his hands together and held them close to his heart.

“I know who you’re thinking about.”

“Oh, Rosaline, how splendid she is! So rich in beauty…just like the Sun. Why, I’ve never seen beauty to match hers.”

As he listened to Romeo gush about his current love, Friar Laurence rolled his eyes and shook his head while heating the water for the tea.

But then, Romeo’s blissful smile faded. “If only she weren’t so cold and aloof…”

“Now, boy, don’t start feeling gloomy,” Friar Laurence said as he placed two cups on the table.

Romeo looked at the older man.

“It’s a beautiful day. No reason to feel down.”

“You’re right, Father,” Romeo sighed. He started looking around for something else to talk about or do.

There was a wooden cutting board on the table. The friar used that board for cutting bread. Romeo grabbed the board and put it on top of his head.

“Have you seen the way Rosaline walks? Perfect posture.” Romeo began to walk around while balancing the cutting board on his head. He figured that now was as good a time as any to practice good posture.

When the tea was ready, the friar poured the tea into the cups.

Romeo was still walking around with the board on top of his head, concentrating on maintaining his good posture and not paying attention to much else. He accidentally bumped into the table and knocked one of the cups off, spilling tea all over the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Romeo said, placing the cutting board back on the table.

“It’s alright. I’ll clean it up,” Friar Laurence said.

Friar Laurence grabbed a rag and knelt down to clean up the mess on the floor. While the friar was on his knees, Romeo stood behind him and saw the bare soles of the friar’s feet. Feeling cheeky, Romeo came over and began tickling his feet. Friar Laurence screamed with laughter and rolled around on the floor, kicking frantically.

Romeo had known for a long time that Friar Laurence was extremely ticklish. It was fun to tickle the friar, and sometimes Romeo took advantage when the opportunity arose.

“Your feet are so ticklish!” Romeo said, laughing. “I’d watch my back if I were you.”

Romeo stopped tickling him and moved back to avoid getting kicked. After catching his breath, Friar Laurence stood up and looked at Romeo with disapproval. He shook a warning finger in Romeo’s face.

“Behave yourself now.”

Romeo composed himself and stopped giggling at the friar’s expense. “Yes, Father.”

He tossed the rag to Romeo. “Here. You can clean that up.”

Romeo stifled a smile and obeyed. He sank to his knees and wiped up the spilled tea.

Friar Laurence put his sandals on to protect his feet. Then he prepared another cup of tea and carefully handed it to Romeo.

“Thank you,” Romeo said as he accepted the tea.

They took their seats at the table. For lunch, they would have warm bread, lentil soup, and fruit. Before eating, they said a prayer of thanks.

“Would you like to learn how to cook?” Friar Laurence asked as he sipped his tea.

“I don’t see why I should,” Romeo said with a shrug. “When I get married, my wife and I will have servants to do that for us.”

“As a husband, you must remember to be virtuous, faithful, strong, patient, loyal…”

“And loving,” Romeo stated.

There was a twinkle in the friar’s dark brown eyes. “Of course, Romeo.”

“Someday I will marry.”

Meanwhile, in another part of Verona, a beautiful young lady named Juliet Capulet was going about her day with the nurse by her side. She was the jewel of Verona and the true love of Romeo. They had not met yet - but they would meet soon.

The End

[funeralhomewifi]

First Kiss(es) - MC x Diavolo

Summary: Verona (my mc) kisses Diavolo. She leaves out of embarrassment, but Diavolo ensures her that he’s more than okay with trying again to get it right.

Word Count: 2,186

The first time Verona kisses Diavolo, she doesn’t process it fully at first. Only the panic at first, because she just kissed the Prince of Devildom.

Her body just moved on its own. Lucifer stepped out for a moment and she leaned in to show Diavolo something cute from the human realm. And she peers over and sees that his attention is very much on her and not the phone where a bird is chirping the Star Wars theme.

What shocks her than her own boldness… Diavolo kisses her back. More gently than any human has before and she so just wants to fall into his touch and savor the moment.

But embarrassment kicks in. Because what is she doing? Because Lucifer is still in the general vicinity and Verona would be launched into week long cooking duty on top of the punishment from her and Mammon’s concert escapades the week before. And surely Barbatos would not hesitate to enchant her shoes if she proved to be a distraction.

Verona pulls away quickly, heart in her throat, mind racing because: What the Hell have I just done. Softly she murmurs, “Sorry, I’ll leave.”

But the Prince simply smiles up to her, temptation glistening in his golden eyes as she leaves so quick that Verona doesn’t even catch his response.

Verona doesn’t even realize that she had left her DDD behind until Lucifer returns it that night with a simple warning: Be more careful. Leaving her to wonder if Diavolo told him or if he simply doesn’t want to have to replace another phone.

But later that evening, her DDD vibrates with a single emoji from Diavolo and her cheeks heat up as she simply sends one back.

Moments pass and somehow the conversation evolves. He already knows the bare minimum about Verona and her life (whatever Barbatos had looked into prior to her invitation to the Devildom) and she knows the bare minimum of his and what she’d been allowed to know.

He asks about her tattoos and piercings, curious about the length of time she had to sit for, how long it took Verona to heal since demons tend to heal quicker and there are more painless applications of tattoos and body modifications in the Devildom. Diavolo also asks about what Verona did in the human realm (a barista), if she liked it (not really, but it paid rent and some bills), and what she wants to do once the year is over (she doesn’t have the drive to tell him that she’d rather stay in the Devildom if she could just retrieve her pets. She tells him she’d nap, cuddle with her cat, and return to work).

Diavolo finally inquires about Verona’s family and finally she pauses. Because she hadn’t spoken to her family in years. Not willingly, at least.

The phone buzzes again, leaving Verona that she had left Diavolo hanging.

[??? Sticker]

Verona hesitates. Then sends: Sorry, I’m sleepy. (a lie) We don’t speak much.

His response comes swiftly: I apologize, Verona. Then immediately after: It is late, so I’ll let you get some sleep.

Verona glances at the alarm clock, the numbers blinking 11:01 PM, nowhere near her self-imposed bedtime of at least 3AM, and she wonders what he’s still doing awake although the answer is probably the same as Lucifer’s.

But she inquiries anyway: Are you in bed too? Which immediately after sending it she realizes holy shit, that’s a bit intrusive despite the curiosity spiking anyway. But he responds with a laughing demon emoji then promptly: Not yet. I’m still wrapping up paperwork before I can wind down. And again: But Verona!

Verona waited for the next round of messages, checking her connection until LORD DIAVOLO flashed across the screen as her phone vibrated. Panic clenched her stomach and she nearly tossed the phone.

He knows you’re available, dumbass, Verona chastised, her hatred of speaking on the phone and nervousness over Diavolo calling at all spiraled together. Quickly, she stood on the bed as there was a knock at her bedroom door, ignoring it she pressed the phone to her ear, “Hello?”

“Verona!” Diavolo’s voice boomed from the other line.

The door opened and Asmo entered, thankfully noticing her state before announcing himself. His eyebrows rose, he held up a bag with the label of an expensive skincare line, Verona waved her free hand.

“Verona?” Diavolo tried again, “Are you there? I have a proposal.”

“Yes, my lord,” Verona practically kicked Asmodeus as an excited expression formed on his face. Asmo jumped on the bed and pressed himself near the phone despite Verona’s valiant attempt to cover his lips, “I’m still here.”

“Wonderful!” Diavolo continued, clearly not clued into the desperate swatting away of Asmo on Verona’s end. “I have some down time tomorrow evening. Would you like to join me for tea? We can discuss what happened earlier.”

Asmo broke away, quickly mouthing, “What happened?”

“I’m not sure, my lord.” Verona answered quickly, the words souring, “It was out of—”

“Oh!” Diavolo cut her off, “I’m not angry, it was quite nice. Refreshing, even, Verona. We can do it properly even.”

Verona reached up and attempted to cover Asmo’s lips, her own cheeks burning, “That… That sounds nice.”

“Perfect, I’ll send Barbatos for you after class,” Diavolo murmurs, voice like honey in her ear. “Goodnight, Verona.”

“Goodnight, Diavolo.” Verona quickly hung up.

Asmo grinned and swiped the phone, dragging her back to the bed, “What did you do, V? That Diavolo wants to do again?”

“Nothing!”

“Liar.”

Verona stared and flopped back with a frown, “I kissed Diavolo.”

“Naughty Verona!” Asmodeus gushed, “Does Lucifer know? Well I suppose not since you’re not searching for cobwebs to clean. But what are you going to wear? Do you need lingerie? Also, don’t frown, love, it causes wrinkles.”

Verona rolled over and huffed into her pillow, “It’s tea, not… not… fuck.”

“It could be, V,” The Avatar of Lust tried unhelpfully. “At least wear something cute under your uniform. It’ll make you feel good.”

“I’m not wearing something cute, Asmo.”

XXX

Verona wore something cute under her uniform. It hadn’t helped with her anxiousness throughout her classes, but it did make her feel less bad over Asmodeus spoiling her with cute items considering she never really got the chance to wear them.

After her last class, Barbatos met her at the end of the hall and she quietly followed him through the winding building until they came to a portal.

“Are we not going to Lord Diavolo’s office?” Verona asked cautiously.

“He requested that you meet him in the palace gardens for tea,” Barbatos offered his arm. “Ready?”

With a nod, Verona wrapped a hand around his forearm and nearly toppled over at the sudden change of setting. The dark, candlelit halls of RAD instantly replaced with lush gardens filled with flowers and plants native to Devildom that Verona hadn’t seen in her months as an exchange student.

Barbatos steadied her then allowed her to look around, Verona cautiously followed a dark bricked path, sure that many of the unknown plants could probably eat her if she so much as nudged them.

“These are relatively safe plants,” Diavolo’s gentle voice noted as Verona came to a better lit area with blackened floating lanterns. “Barbatos keeps anything remotely dangerous in his personal garden.”

“Relatively, though?” Verona paused to blink up at the lanterns, eyes adjusting a realizing that they weren’t lanterns at all. They were lightning bugs, probably the size of her fist, hovering around and resting on pale flowers.

“I suppose I wouldn’t try to eat them,” Diavolo muses, then motions to the seat across from the oversized garden table. “Have a seat, Verona.”

Verona sits and focuses on the sandwiches, the tea, the fine china. Everything except Diavolo seated across from her simply watching as Barbatos pours a blue-ish tinged tea then takes his leave. Verona quietly takes a sip, noting the bitterness before dropping a single sugar cube in. She finally breaks the silence, “How was your day? Or is it technically still going?”

“It seems to be picking up,” Diavolo offers. “How was yours? You had an exam in History of Devildom today, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Verona exhales, cheeks heating up, “But I didn’t do as well as I hoped. My mind was… elsewhere, I guess.”

“I suppose I should’ve accounted for that. We could’ve met earlier this morning, but I believe I start my day a bit earlier that it would inconvenience you.” Diavolo hums, “I could request that you be allowed to retake it.”

“Oh, no!” Verona rubs her cheeks to calm herself, “I keep my grade high enough that it should be fine.” Then adds, “Thank you though.”

They fall back into heavy silence. Verona picks at a sandwich before sighing and shooing away the anxiety, “I’m sorry for yesterday. It just… I don’t know… You were close and…” I think you’re lowkey gorgeous, Verona nearly admits.

“You’re a very anxious little human, Verona. But only with me.” A gentle smile pulls at the Prince of Devildom’s lips, “Why is that? You’re perfectly chaotic with Lucifer and the other brothers. The angels, even.”

“I…” A lump twisted at her throat as she racked her brain for a coherent answer, “I think it might be an, I don’t know, authority issue. You’re very much attractive… but very much above me. It makes me nervous. I don’t like to put myself in situations that might not go right for me.”

“But you did yesterday?” Diavolo tries, eyes ghosting over her.

“I guess I did,” Verona stares down at her tea.

“What would remedy this situation, Verona?” Diavolo asks quietly, “What would make you feel better?”

Verona wanted to sink into the garden and melt into the other levels of the Devildom. She sighs and focuses on one of the lightning bugs at the edge of the table, “I don’t know,”

“Would you like to hold one?” Diavolo asks softly, cutting through her thoughts, “They aren’t dangerous to humans.”

Verona only nods and Diavolo rises to offer his hand. She takes it and he leads her to the center of the lush garden. He stands behind her and Verona is hyperaware that he towers over her barely five foot nothing form and even more aware that his cologne makes her head spin in the best way.

Diavolo raises his hand with a bit of sandwich in the center. It takes a moment but one of the creatures flits around before settling on his hand and poking at the bread and gently flapping its lit up wings.

“Put your hand near mine.”

And Verona does. The creature buzzes but transfers hands as it finishes the spec of sandwich.

“You’re very lovely, Verona,” Diavolo places his hand under hers. “Maybe the loveliest thing I’ve seen in centuries. The most interesting creature by far that has landed in my sight.”

The bug flits away, but Verona doesn’t move, “Maybe?”

“Definitely,” Diavolo amends, . “You’re nervous around me, yet you don’t hesitate to message me to take breaks and send me animal videos. Even offer to bring me, even Barbatos, trinkets when you ask permission to go to the human realm. Not many people do that, Verona.”

“I know you like cute things, you’ve expressed interest in human trinkets and Barbatos likes to use certain brands of foods for meals.” Verona unconsciously tilts her head against his chest.

“Yes,” Diavolo pauses. “But you don’t hesitate to treat me like an equal, Verona. Not like a royal that you bend backwards for, like someone, Verona. It’s refreshing. It’s different. Something no one has attempted to try in thousands and thousands of years.”

Verona is quiet, stomach twisting, “That’s unfortunate, Diavolo.”

“I suppose,” Diavolo hums, gently hovering over bright tattoos along her arm. “Can I touch you, Verona?”

Yes. Yes. Yes. But Verona’s breath hitches, “Do you want to?”

“Do you want me to, Verona?” Diavolo counters softly.

“Then… Yes,” Verona exhales. “Yes, you can touch me.”

His fingers trace over her tattoos, up her shoulder, to her neck and she nudges against his hand. A mix of ticklish and leftover feelings from Belphie’s mishap. Diavolo quietly apologizes, then combs his fingers through her thick hair. From behind he thumbs her lips and she leans into his touch.

“Turn to face me, Verona?” And she does, Diavolo gently tilts her chin up, taking her in, “Would you like to try again?”

Verona lets out a shaky breath and nods, she knots her fingers against his coat to bring him closer. She’s on her toes and he meets her halfway, the kiss soft and dissolves into something sweeter and desperate.  But Verona blushes and pulls away, peering around the garden.

Diavolo watches nothing but her lips, “Are you concerned about Barbatos?”

Verona blushes, but smiles as Diavolo’s hands go to her waist, “He might enchant my shoes to walk me into a different timeline.”

“Only if you want him to, Verona.”

“No,” Verona seeks out another sweet kiss. “I like it here.”

[medicifm]

*  not  me  actually  writing  an  intro  the  night  before  like  i  always  mean  to  😳  hennyway  hey  biddies  ,  i'm  chloe  ,  im  in  the  snowy  part  of  pst  ,  &  i  use  she / her  pns  .  i’ve  been  . . . . . . .  scouring  the  tags  for  an  rp  like  this  so  im  so  excited  to  bring  this  newish  muse  of  mine  here  !   im  here to  do  the  honours  of  introducing  my  himbo - on - the outside , manipulative - shit - on - the - inside  . . .  oscar  🤡

(  twenty  three , cis  man , he / him  ) ✉ ― hey  babes , have  you  met  OSCAR  MEDICI ?  they’re  working  here  as  THE  HEAD  CHEF  AT  LORENZO’S ,  a  few  villas  down  from  where  you’re  staying  .  you  might  hear  them  singing  ALRIGHTY  APHRODITE  BY  PEACH  PIT  playing  from  their  villa  ,  it’s  their  favourite  song  .  yes  ,  they  hear  that  they  look  like  JACK  GILINSKY  a  lot  ,  actually  -  it’s  really  uncanny  .  their  friends  back  home  in  SYDNEY , AUSTRALIA  say  that  if  they  were  on  a  tv  show  ,  their  trope  would  be  THE  WOLF  IN  SHEEP’S  CLOTHING  ,  how  funny  is  that  ? ✎ chloe , 22 , she/her , pst

𝐢  .

pinterest  |  wanted  plots  |  

𝐢𝐢  .

name  :  oscar  gabriel  medici

age  :  twenty  three

dob  /  sign  :  december  4th  ,  1997  /  sagittarius  sun  ,  leo  moon  ,  libra  rising 

pob  :  sydney , australia

gender / pronouns  :  cis  man  &  he / him / his

career :  head  chef  at  lorenzo’s  ,  full - time  heathen  ,  professional  disappointment  for  mothers  everywhere  .

drinking / drugs / smoking :  yes / more  often  than  he’d  admit / never .  

religion  :  jewish  background  ,  currently  non - practicing .

physical  :  jack  gilinsky  fc ,  dark  brown / black  longish  curls  (  reference  )  ,  dark  brown  eyes  ,  canon  jack  g’s  tattoos  ,  no  piercings  ,  6′2″  ,  175  lbs  ,  lean  but  strong  .  tattoos  a  la  canon!jack  ,  pearly  white  smile  that  he  may  . . .  or  may  not  . . .   use  crest  3D  white  strips  weekly  to  maintain  .  lots  of  burns  &  scars  from  kitchen  mishaps  on  his  hands  &  arms  .

traits  :  hard - working  ,  flighty  ,  intelligent  ,  hedonistic  ,  charismatic  ,  intense  ,  volatile  ,  

other  :  speaks  weird  french  (  aussie  accent  tings  )  ,  tans  easily  but  wears  sunscreen  nonetheless  ,  works  hard  parties  harder  ,  can’t  read  a  lick  of  french  but  spends  a  lot  of  his  free  time  with  a  coffee  &  a  new  paperback  ,  has  a  bit  of  an  internal  vendetta  against  rich  people  (  for  no  real  reason  ,  he  just  doesn’t  like  most  of  them  )  ,  has  ins  with  a  bunch  the  local  farmers  &  visits  them  weekly  ,  pretends  he  isn’t  lowkey  addicted  to  nicotine  administered  via  a  puff  bar  ,  liquor  of  preference  is  tequila  or  red  wine  ,  drives  a  lil  vespa  around  town  for  the  gag  of  it  (  loves  seeing  it  haphazardly  parked  amongst  a  bunch  of  luxury  cars  )  ,  

character  inspo  :  jess  mariano  (  gilmore  girls  )  , gordon  ramsey  🤡 ,  patrick verona ( 10 things i hate about you ) , ferris bueller ( ferris bueller’s day off ) , han solo ( star wars ) .

𝐢𝐢𝐢  .

oscar’s  arrival  was  as  unwanted  to  his  parents  as  could  be  :  a  father  whose  tendencies  leaned  towards  alcoholism  &  abusing  whoever  was  in  arms  reach  ,  a  mother  whose  life  was  more  or  less  spent  at  the  nursing  home  she  worked  as  a  nurse  at  ,  evading  home  .  he  became  a  self - inflicted  loner  ,  preferring  to  do  literally  the  exact  opposite  of  what  was  expected  or  wanted  from  him  .  he  had  a  few  friends  he  ran  with  ,  but  watching  them  all  go  off  &  study  or  prepare  for  university  solidified  in  oscar’s  mind  that  the  non - traditional  route  was  for  him  .  growing  up  by  the  water  ,  oscar  always  felt  more  drawn  to  skip  school  &  head  to  the  beach  than  he  did  obeying  his  parents  wishes  .   

one  of  his  solaces  was  his  grandfather  ,  gabriel  ,  who  owned  an  italian  restaurant  in  a  beach  town  north  of  sydney  .  whenever  the  weather  was bad  &  oscar  felt  like  ditching  class  ,  he’d  head  over  to  his  nono’s  restaurant  where  his  ass  would  be  put  to  work  as  soon  as  he  set  eyes  on  the  restaurant  .  it  was  tough  work  ,  but  challenging  in  a  way  that  fanned  the  flames  in  oscar’s  heart  ,  rather  than  dimming  them  .  by  the  time  he was  a  teenager  he  was  working  in  the  restaurant  everyday  after  school  , an  agreement  between  him  &  his  grandfather  framed  on  the  back  wall  that  stated  that  as  long  as  oscar  kept  from  flunking  out  ,  he  was  allowed  to  spend  as  little  or  as  much  time  in  the  kitchen  as  he  pleased .  

his  absolute  defiance  of  anything  traditional  &  following  the  rules  made  him  unpopular  with  adults  ,  but  lowkey  cool  with  the  girls  .  by  the  time  he  was  sixteen  ,  he  was  losing  his  focus  on  the  restaurant  &  his  grades  &  spending  more  &  more  time  chasing  after  girls  .  his  nono  tried  to  get oscar  to  come  back  &  focus  ,  but  as  always  ,  anything  he’s  asked  to  do  quickly  becomes  the  thing  he’s  running  from  the  most  .

tw  :  death  ,  cancer  .  around  his  eighteenth  birthday  ,  his  grandfather  suddenly  fell  ill  with  a  rare  form  of  cancer  that  took  his  life  six  weeks  after  diagnosis  ,  which  rocked  oscar’s  world  .  he  felt  overwhelming  guilt  that  he  hadn’t  spent  more  time  with  his  grandfather  ,  which  manifested  itself  as  oscar  dropping  out  of  school  a  year  shy  of  graduation  to  commit  himself  fully  to  perfecting  his  grandfather’s  techniques  ,  learning  all  of  his  recipes  (  read  :  pouring  over  dozens  of  handwritten  cookbooks )  in  some  failed  attempt  to  get  back  some  time  with  him  .  oscar  hadn’t  been  close  with  his  parents  in  years  ,  more  or  less  seeing  them  as  wardens  of  a  prison  he  wanted  nothing  to  do  with  .  his  grandfather’s  will  left  him  the  deed  to  the  restaurant  ,  with  an  ask  that  oscar  would  promise  to  act  on  whatever  he  felt  called  towards  ,  rather  than  doing  what  others  expected  of  him  .  to  be  candid  ,  this  whole  situation  crushed  him  .

eventually  ,  he  decided  he’d  had  enough  of  the  stifling  community  he’d  grown  up  in  .  he  sold  the  restaurant  to  one  of  the  regulars  ,  a  wealthy  man  who  he’d  come  to  acknowledge  as  somewhat  of  an  uncle  ;  a  safe  pair  of  hands  who  would  treat  his grandfather’s  legacy  with  as  much  passion  &  respect  as  oscar  himself  would  .  so  he  packed  a  bag  ,  texted  his  mom  that  he  was  going  traveling  ,  &  got  on  a  flight  that  evening  .  he  traveled  all  around  -  first  through  central  america  ,  then  through  europe  ,  throughout  asia  &  africa  ,  &  spent  a  few  months  driving  a  van  across  the  continental  united  states  &  canada  for  fun  . 

eventually  ,  he  started  getting  low - ish  on  money  ,  &  decided  to  settle  in  one  of  his  favourite  places  he’d  visited  :  southern  france  .  he  arrived  in  early  2018  ,  taking  on  whatever  menial  tasks  he  could  while  learning  french  until  he  got  a  position  as  a  line  cook  in  an  italian  restaurant  .  a  few  years  later  ,  he’s  made  his  way  up  to  filling  the  head  chef  position  ,  an  honour  he  takes  with  pride  .  he’s  implemented  many  of  his  own  recipes  while  using  flavours  he’s  learned  from  his  travels  ,  with  ingredients  straight  from  local  farmers  .  he’s  earned  the  restaurant  a  two michelin  star  rating  ,  &  is  constantly  striving  for  more  to  get  that  last  star  (  both  for  his  own  ego  as  well  as  a  secret  debt  to  his  grandfather  )  .

𝐢𝐯  .

ok  but  that  vid  where  gordon  puts  two  pieces  of  bread  on  someone’s  head  &  calls  them  an  idiot  sandwich  ?  that’s  oscar  .  intense  as  fuck  in  the  kitchen  ,  &  best  nobody  catch  an  attitude  about  it  bc  he  will  not  hesitate  to  hand  them  their  ass  on  a  silver  platter  .

another  gordon  reference  :  you  know  how  he’s  the  spawn  of  satan with  adults  ,  but  the  sweetest  ,  most  helpul  guy  with  children  ?  that’s  oscar  with  his  staff  vs  people  he  wants  something  from  .  whether  its  to  sleep  with  them  (  usually  his  first  instinct  to  be  fair  )  ,  their  money  or  clout  ,  or  to  get  into  some  wild  adventure  some  random  resort  staff  wouldn’t  dream  of  getting  into  ,  he  can  turn  on  the  charm  whenever  needed  .

can  go  from  absolutely  demoralizing  someone  in  the  kitchen  to  stepping  out  into  the  lounge  to  schmooze  with  his  friends  or  cougars  who  leave  phat  tips  in  0.2  seconds  .  the  speed  at  which  his  mood  can  completely  180  is  one  of  the  seven  world  wonders  (  last  i  checked  )  .

his  love  language  is  absolutely  acts  of  service  .  catch  him  actually  falling  in  love  once  in  a  blue  moon  &  making  it  his  mission  to  cook  her  extravagant  meals  everyday  .  

the  wolf  in  sheep’s  clothing  label  epitomizes  his  nice  ,  helpful  ,  charismatic  exterior  ,  while  ulterior  motives  &  disdain  for  those  who  grew  up  with  more  money  than  he  did  lurk  beneath  the  surface  . 

he  can  be  MEAN  when  someone  fucks  him  over  or  pushes  him  farther  than  he  wants  -  isn’t  afraid  to  go  for  the  low  blows  or  send  someone  home  with  an  identity  crisis  if  it  protects  himself  .

lowkey  alcoholic  but  he’s  not  ready  for  that  conversation  yet  .  he  sees  it  more  as  perks  of  the  location  &  atmosphere  he’s  found  himself  in  .

also  lowkey  falls  in  love  HARD  ,  like  this  man  is  a  closeted  romantic  but  self - sabotages  all  potential  relationships  before  they  can  get  to  that  point  out  of  fear  he’ll  be  unable  to  live  life  of  his  own  volition  (  takes  a  flaky  philophobic  sagittarius  to  know  a  flaky  philophobic  sagittarius  🤡  )  .  has  probably  only  had  a  few  real  relationships  besides  flings  bc  he’s  afraid  .

𝐯  .

check  out  my  wanted  plots  tag  listed  here  ,  as  well  as  my  pinterest  wanted  plots  board  here  .  here   are  some  other  suggestions  hehe  :

best  friend  /  ride  or  die  :  someone  who  knows  about  his  past  ,  keeps  him  grounded  when  he’s  lk  spiraling  &  wants  to  drop  everything  &  flee  to  some  far  flung  corner  of  the  earth  .

actual  relationship  :  it  was  fast - burn  with  deep  feelings  (  not  them  thinking  they’re  soulmates  after  dating  for  a  month  . . .  pete  &  ariana  type  beat  )  but  completely  unrealistic  .  they  have  their  own  life  ,  he’s  pretty  much  tied  to  the  restaurant  ,  not  to  mention  his  lack  of  sharing  anything  about  his  childhood / life  back  home  .  they  loved  &  cared  for  each  other  ,  but  crashed  &  burned  fairly  quickly  because  of  how  idealistic  it  was  .  they  can  either  be  on  bad  or  good  terms  now  .

hateship  with  sexual  tension  😈

summer  flings  !!

fake  boyfriend  :  he  shows  up  on  her  arm  to  her  family’s  events  where  she’s  expected  to  have  a  partner  .  it’s  not  a  real  relationship  ,  but  her  parents  don’t  need  to  know  that  .  he  plays  the  part  &  satisfies  her  parents  beyond  the  bare  minimum  ,  &  in  return  she  invites  him  to  parties  ,  takes  him  out  on  her  family’s  yacht  ,  etc  etc  .  we  luv  some  symbiosis  

i  can  always  use  more  fwbs  hehehe

squad  :  a  group  of  people  who  do  everything  together  ,  have  a  chaotic  group  chat  ,  have  nicknames  for  one  another  ,  are  utd  on  each  other’s  sex  lives  ,  party  all  night  then  show  up  to  brunch  hungover  together  .  

cat  &  mouse  :  someone  he’s  pursuing  who  isn’t  quite  giving  in  ,  &  vice  versa  .  maybe  it’s  been  going  on  a  few  years  ,  everytime  they’re  in  st  tropez  they  have  this  weird  lil  flirtationship  thing  goin  on  until  she  leaves  ,  they  forget  about  one  another  ,  then  pick  it  right  back  up  when  she  returns  .

confidant  :  preferably  someone  from  a  working  class  background  who  understands  his  plight  of  being  a  worker  amongst  people  who  expect  to  be  waited  on  .

enemies  :  they  don’t  like  his  attitude  ,  &  he  doesn’t  like  them  in  return  .  lots  of  eye  rolls  ,  shit  talking  ,  &  tension  between  their  mutual  friends  .

we’re  sleeping  together  but  we  shouldn’t  be  but  that’s  half  the  fun :  for  whatever  reason  they  became  friends  ,  starting  hooking  up  despite  it  not  being  a  good  idea  (  read  :  he’s  exes  with  one  of  her  friends  ,  her  parents  want  her  focused  on  career  ,  they’re  part  of  the  same  friend  group  ,  etc )  . . . but  now  they  can’t  stop  .  lots  of  stolen  glances  across  rooms  ,  squeezing  past  one  another  in  a  crowded  club  just  close  enough  for  a  quick  touch  to  the  back  ,  quietly  leaving  one  another’s  places  the  morning  after  &  playing  dumb  to  anyone  who  asks  . 

[our-time-is-now]

July 2, 2019 - Fidanzato

(previous play)

You can find more information about the authors, translators, content warning and additional information about the plays in the pinned post on  our blog.

Matteo: *has, together with David, switched from the flatshare to David’s place yesterday, because Laura and Matteo wanted to cook together* *unfortunately, Laura had to cancel last minute, because she forgot about another appointment* *so Matteo has cooked – not the new recipe they had meant to try out, but just pasta alla Luigi* *they have enjoyed the meal and they have moved to the living room afterwards to hang out on the couch* *David has turned on some boring movie and Matteo grumbles* Okay, but I don’t understand… why doesn’t he just tell his father that the key is in the trunk? It’s just insane!

David: *has turned on just any movie after dinner, but is actually too tired to concentrate on the action* *looks from Matteo to the TV and back at Matteo’s question* Huh? The key is in the trunk? *frowns* I thought that blonde dude had taken it… *laughs and looks apologetically at Matteo* Maybe I haven’t really been paying attention… *stretches and yawns* *looks back at Matteo* You can change channels, if you want – I don’t have to watch this. I just put on something…

Matteo: *frowns and is suddenly not so certain anymore himself* The blonde dude has it? *laughs and shrugs* Can be… *stretches out a bit and grabs the remote* *surfs two channels on, when suddenly his phone rings* *gets up, puts the remote down and grabs his phone from the table* Oh, grandma… *thinks for a moment he will not pick up, but realizes he cannot do that to his grandma* *stands up and answers* Ciao nonna…

David: *leans back and gets comfortable while he watches Matteo zap through the channels, when the phone starts ringing* *nods when he hears Matteo’s announcement and takes the remote to turn down the volume – you never know how the connection with Italy is*

Grandma: Ciao, my dear boy! We haven’t spoken in so long. Is everything okay? How are you doing?

Matteo: *looks quickly back to David when he turns down the volume* *steps into the kitchen, so David can watch on without being disturbed* Yeah, sorry, grandma, I wanted to call you so often… but you know how it is… I am doing fine, everything is perfect. And you? *purses his lips for a moment, because he always feels a little bit uneasy when he talks to his grandma, even though he loves her* *doesn’t really know why, whether it is because of his dad or because he isn’t out to her yet, or both*

David: *watches Matteo leave the room, but doesn’t really think a lot of it, except that maybe the connection is indeed bad and Matteo is searching for a better one somewhere else* *speaks barely any Italian anyway and therefore doesn’t think Matteo’s leaving has anything to do with him* *zaps along but cannot find anything cool* *finally sticks with a documentary about South-America and watches that*

Grandma: Yeah, you young people always have such an incredible lot to do and no time to call your grandmothers! I know, I know! Your cousins are just the same! Only Josephina calls regularly... But good to hear, my boy, that you are doing fine. I am also fine, but it’s getting hot here in bella Italia. I feel it gets hotter every year, don’t you agree!? I am busy watering the flowers in my garden every morning and evening, but they are hanging their heads all day nevertheless. It’s even too hot for them! How is your mom doing? Everything okay with her? And has your father contacted you yet?

Matteo: *notices that he has to make an effort, at the start, to understand the Italian properly* *feels then rather relieved, when he doesn’t have to think about it anymore after a while and is happy that his grandmother is talking so much* Yeah, it’s getting warmer every year, grandma… That’s climate change… *swallows then, when she mentions his parents* Mama is doing fine… really good. She would be really glad if you call her some time… *then breathes deeply in and out* And no. He hasn’t. And he shouldn’t. You know that.

Grandma: Yes, yes, climate change – if I’m lucky I won’t have to live through the consequences. Oh, good to hear your mom is doing well! I was thinking about calling her, but I’m not sure if she wants to talk to me. I tried once, shortly after your father moved out, but I felt like I was bothering her. And that’s not what I want. Maybe she thought that that old lady would be just like her son, but no! I don’t approve of what your father has done, you know that, my boy, don’t you? It’s just not right! Leaving a sick wife and son! Maybe I will call her again. Maybe it will be better, now that the divorce is not so fresh anymore. I’ve always liked your mom. Such a sweet woman! She used to help me out a lot, when you were here during the summer. But that your father isn’t contacting you… That’s not how I raised him! I know that you don’t want to talk to him. But he doesn’t know that! He should make an effort! He could at least apologize. He could be a man and look after his child! Does he even know that you have graduated!? That’s such a big step in your life! A father should know such things! But he hasn’t even contacted me recently. The last time I heard from him was three months ago! He is probably afraid I will scold him…

Matteo: *can’t help but laugh softly, when he hears his grandma talk, and notices he does really miss her* Oh, grandma… Mama will definitely be happy to hear from you… And about my father, I really don’t know… maybe mama has told him about my graduation, but if she didn’t, then he wouldn’t know…. *has been walking around and sits down at the counter* I know you don’t like to hear it, but I really don’t want to talk about him… What’s up over there, then?

Grandma: Yes, I will call your mama! This week, promised! I know you don’t want to talk about him. He has let you down. And not only you! Me too! And your mom! I haven’t yet given up hope, that he will come to his senses at some point. And if that happens it would be good if you were talking to him. But you are right, my boy… as long as he behaves like he is doing now, we don’t have to talk about him… What’s up? What’s up? We have a new ice cream parlour in town! It’s horrible! They are offering a scoop for 50 cents and everybody is buying it, but you know what, my boy? It tastes like water! And Luigi’s ice cream parlour – you know that one, don’t you? It’s been in the family for years… And I will put my hand in the fire for them, his ice cream is home made and with the best ingredients and fresh fruit – And Luigi has to lower his prices now, so that not everybody will go to the competitors… It’s terrible! Everybody is looking only at the price and not at the quality… And your cousins Mario and Philippo are coming to visit during the summer – Mario has moved to Verona and Philippo to Milano, but you know that, of course… but that’s why we aren’t seeing each other so often anymore… but I told them: The important things is to come in summer! Every summer! It’s tradition! Traditions have to be honoured! The tradition of your family has been disturbed by your father – but no, I know, we don’t want to talk about him! But nevertheless, it always was so nice to have you here! You can come alone, can’t you, this year, Matteo, my boy? Or with your mama? Or with your girlfriend… Visit your old grandma and let’s repair the tradition!

Matteo: *just swallows, when she talks about his father again, and decides to let it pass without comment* *can’t help but laugh again when she talks about the ice cream parlour* Oh, yes, Luigi’s ice cream is the best I ever had! *exaggerates a little, but thinks it’s cute his grandma is getting so excited about it* *wonders briefly, when he has talked to Mario and Philippo for the last time, and can’t really remember* *suddenly realizes with a burning feeling that he has seen a picture of the two of them in Verona on Instagram – that means, they are following each other on Instagram and he suddenly gets a bit nauseous when he thinks about what pictures they might have seen from him, then* Yeah, I saw that on Instagram, grandma… *then feels the funny feeling in his stomach is only getting worse, when his grandma mentions his potential girlfriend* Grandma, I don’t have a girlfriend… and it would be nice if you wouldn’t wait for that…

Grandma: Yeah, you know what’s good! Luigi’s ice cream is not something you can get on every street corner. One should be able to spend a euro for something like that! Instagram, Instagram… That’s something on your phones, isn’t it? Something like that Facebook. Some modern nonsense… We used to write letters and call each other. Nowadays people write each other these emails and send pictures on Facebook and Instagram, but they don’t really talk with each other anymore. I asked Mario if he could send me a picture of his girlfriend. He asked me if I have this thing on my phone… or if I have an email address. I said no! I mean t a picture! In a letter. And he said he doesn’t have any on paper! Just on his phone and his laptop! Can you imagine? Don’t the young people of today hang up any pictures of their loved ones in their rooms anymore?! Everybody is only ever looking to their phone… I’m not waiting for you to get a girlfriend – I’m just asking. One day you’ll have one. You are such a sweet, good-looking boy. You’ll find one soon. You’re 18. Just wait a while… But you can come without a girlfriend too… this year! And then next year maybe with your girlfriend. I miss you, my boy. It’s been three years since we saw each other… you have to come visit again!

Matteo: *would normally laugh about his grandmother talking so cliché-like about modern nonsense* *but can only think about how he will never have a girlfriend, how disappointed his grandmother will be* *shakes his head silently* I would like to come visit you… *breathes in deeply and looks in the direction of the living room* *thinks about David and how he is lying there waiting for him, about David’s smile and then briefly about how his lips taste, when they kiss* *swallows shortly* But not with a girlfriend… never with a girlfriend, grandma, because I will never have one. *inhales deeply* Because I have a boyfriend. *emphasizes the o in ‘fidanzato’ extra, so she will understand*

Grandma: Oh, I am so happy you want to come! This summer?! Matteo? What do you mean, never with a girlfriend? Of course, you will bring a girlfr… Oh... fidanzato... … fidanzato... Matteo, my boy, never say never. It is probably just a phase. He is a nice boy, I’m sure, but... you’ll find a girlfriend too. When you’re here, I can introduce you to Maria’s granddaughter… A truly beautiful girl, I swear! You’ll like her, I am certain of it…

Matteo: *holds his breath when she repeats the word twice* *then feels how everything inside him pulls together at her answer* *swallows heavily and feels his eyes burn* *says, a bit too softly* No, grandma. *then hears something about a Maria and says more determinedly* No, grandma! *has to swallow twice, before he can speak again* I don’t want any Maria and not any other girl either. And it’s not a phase. *breathes audibly and then says* I think I’d better hang up… My boyfriend is waiting.

Grandma: *doesn’t let Matteo interrupt her at first, but is then silent, when Matteo becomes more determined* *speaks only again when he says he wants to hang up* No, don’t hang up, my boy. Talk to me, please! This is something we can talk about. I mean, what is so great and wonderful about your boyfriend, that a girl couldn’t offer you too?! You’re only 18… You don’t have to decide just yet…

Matteo: *closes his eyes briefly, when his grandma doesn’t understand at all what it is about* *can’t even really be upset with her, since she has probably never before in her life met a gay man* *but has simply no energy right now to explain it to her* *says therefore simply* I’m gay, grandma. That is not a decision, it just is the way it is. *swallows* Stay safe, grandma. *hangs up and drops his head onto his arms*

David: *has watched the documentary with some fragments of Italian in the background and notices now that it’s been quiet for a while behind him* *feels actually also a bit thirsty and decides to go to the fridge and check on the way there whether Matteo is done with his phone call* *enters the kitchen and sees Matteo at the counter, sitting on the bar stool, his head on his arms, the phone in front of him* *doesn’t see Matteo’s face and can’t determine in what mood he is* *goes towards him, caresses his back once and gives a kiss on his hair* And? Everything okay? *goes over to the cabinet and gets two glasses*

Matteo: *startles a little at David’s touch and then looks up* *wants to pull David closer, but he’s already near the cabinet* *shakes he head at David’s question* No… *stretches out his arms towards David and pulls him closer* *puts his arms around David’s hips and leans against him* *inhales and then says* I came out just now. *swallows and sighs* She thinks it’s just a phase and I’ll find a girl one day…

David: *looks immediately worriedly at Matteo when he answers negatively to his question and is at his side in two steps, when Matteo stretches out his arms* *embraces him and pulls him closer* *is just about to ask what is wrong when Matteo tells him already* *murmurs just a surprised „Oh“ when Matteo tells about coming out* *holds Matteo tighter with his next words and sighs lightly* Oh, man, I’m sorry... *hasn’t really talked a lot with Matteo about his grandmother and really only knows that he used to spend the summer with her and loves her incredibly much* *can imagine, based on these facts, how disappointed Matteo must be about his grandmother’s reaction* *wants to comfort him somehow, but doesn’t really know how* *says uncertainly* Maybe... she just needs a little bit of time, to get to terms with it? Or is she so conservative she really can’t handle it? *caresses Matteo’s back and kisses his temple in consolation*

Matteo: *inhales deeply and smells David* *notices how that calms him immediately and relaxes him a bit* *only nods when David says he’s sorry* *shrugs* Yeah… she is an old-fashioned Italian woman after all… Don’t even know if she has, in all her life, ever seen a gay guy… *sighs lightly* I mean, of course, it’s disappointing for her… She probably imagined it all so beautifully, that I would come to Italy with my young, pretty, blonde girlfriend and she could show us off... *swallows and moves a bit, so he can look at David* *shrugs again* But that’s too bad for her, then.

David: *grimaces slightly when Matteo tells his grandmother is old-fashioned* *finds it then really hard to guess if she will at one point accept the fact that her grandson is gay* *presses his lips together when Matteo talks about the ideas his grandmother might have had, and for a moment he finds it hard not to feel it personally, but then he shakes of the silly feeling, because Matteo’s grandmother doesn’t even know him and can’t judge whether she likes him or not, and secondly, because this is about Matteo and not about him* *catches Matteo’s gaze and smiles at his words* *swipes the hair out of his eyes and says* But you are disappointed and that is somehow sad too… maybe you can talk with her again? Maybe she really needs a bit of time and you can clear up the whole issue in your next call… *stays close to Matteo but loosens his grip enough to pour them both some ice tea and offer Matteo a glass* What else did she say? Did you talk the whole time about this one theme or have you also discussed other stuff? *pulls a bar stool closer and sits down, because he has the feeling they will talk about this for a while* *takes a drink and grabs Matteo’s hand*

Matteo: *grimaces when David says he feels sad and shrugs* I can’t just call her and pretend nothing has happened… it’s her decision now, she can either accept it or not… *grabs the glass and drinks quite a bit* *grabs David’s hand almost blindly, when the latter sits down* No, we also talked about mama… and about my father, of course, and my cousins… family stuff, you know… she wants me to come visit her - she probably doesn’t want that anymore now...

David: *shakes his head* You shouldn’t pretend nothing happened… You should talk about it once more… I mean, not immediately, but maybe a couple of days from now… If she’s really that typically Italian, then maybe she’s not just conservative, but also stubborn, right? Or is that too much of a cliché? Because if she’s really stubborn, she probably won’t start about it again… *sighs softly* *thinks it would be painful and sad, if this really would lead to a break between Matteo and his grandma* *listens to the other stuff they talked about and nods slowly* *has a few questions and wonders which ones he should ask* *then finally asks* What’s her opinion on your father? Or about your mom? She’s your grandmother on your father’s side, right?

Matteo: *has to laugh, when David brings forth the Italian clichés, which are not far off* *nods* Yeah, pretty stubborn... *thinks it is somehow typically David, to try to turn everything in a positive way* *nods at his question* Yeah, that’s right… and she likes my mom, the two of them have always gotten along pretty well… and she doesn’t approve about how he has handled things… she says she hasn’t raised him like that… *shrugs again and sighs* It’s her decision… all of it… you know? It’s not something I can change… Its not like I made a mistake and promise to do better… Either she accepts it or not. *thinks it might maybe just be the case that his father’s family might not ever be his family too*

David: *listens to Matteo and strokes a bit absentmindedly with his thumb over the back of Matteo’s hand, before he entwines their fingers* *grins slightly when Matteo tells him how his grandmother thinks about his father* That’s something then… She also could have defended him. So at least on that subject she seems to be rather cool… *nods then to his next words and squeezes his hand* *murmurs* I know... *sighs softly and shakes his head lightly* You know, in my experience, really, people need time. And I can’t estimate how it is for your grandmother, but I can tell you that sometimes it is really worth it to give the people you care about a bit of time… *watches him pointedly – because the two of them are somehow experts in giving each other time when it’s needed – and then continues* You’ve known for a while that you’re gay. But you also needed time to accept it and be completely certain. I think we can’t expect people, and especially the elder generations, to immediately and automatically be cool with everything. If she was really looking forward to you standing at her door with a girlfriend at some point, then you have just disturbed basically her whole idea of the future. Maybe she needs a few days to build a new idea… *sighs again* … or maybe not. I don’t want to give you hope, I just don’t want you to give up immediately. You’ve always given me time… maybe… maybe you can try to do the same for her? *is a little bit shy, because he’s been talking for so long, and he doesn’t actually know whether Matteo even wants him to get involved* *grabs his ice tea, to take a sip*

Matteo: *watches David while he is talking* *smiles just a tiny bit when David references the two of them* *becomes serious again* *knows that David is right* *knows that it is logical what David is saying* *also knows however that this feeling won’t go away* *this feeling that it is not fair that things have to be like this, that he has to give people time to accept something that should be completely irrelevant* *or maybe not irrelevant, but not all-determining either* *wonders why it has to be so important and why his grandmother can’t just love him, regardless of who he is in love with* *knows it is possible, because he has seen it in others* *but also knows that David is right, and that the world simply doesn’t work like that yet* *sighs softly and can’t really capture all of that in words* You are right… she needs time and who knows what will happen… but… but somehow everything feels shitty right now… why does it have to be such a big issue?

David: *puts his ice tea back on the counter and looks at Matteo* *sees how he is thinking things through and waits* *smiles a bit sadly at his words* *shrugs and even laughs a bit* Yeah, you are right! It’s completely shitty… but we can’t change anything about it anyway. We just have to be happy about all of those for whom it’s not a big issue… *leans towards him and gives him a short but passionate kiss* *swipes through his hair and then  looks at him earnestly* Just wait. Maybe she’ll contact you. And if she doesn’t, then you can try again… and then we’ll talk again, okay? *leans back a little and asks* And she invited you to Italy? Would you like to go?

Matteo: *shrugs a bit frustrated* Right... *kisses David back and smiles when he swipes through his hair* *nods* Yes, let’s see… *doesn’t know yet, whether he will call her again, if she doesn’t contact him* *nods and shrugs again* Yeah, at first… maybe, but only if it’s with you… and not, like, not as some sort of statement or something… *shakes his head lightly* Anyway, that’s off the table now, I assume.

David: *nods at Matteo’s words* *is rather happy that Matteo would want to go to Italy with him, but can also understand, he would want to feel welcome* *shrugs when Matteo says it’s off the table now* We’ll see… *doesn’t really know Matteo’s grandmother, but can imagine Matteo means a lot to her, and thinks it speaks for her that she’s not defending her son, but seems to be standing behind Matteo and his mom* *takes another sip and smiles softly* If you like, the two of us could go to Italy just like that too… you could show me everything… I mean, some day, when we have money… *somehow like the idea that he and Matteo will go on a holiday together one day, just the two of them, even though he is looking forward to the vacation with the rest of their friends*

Matteo: *nods lightly and takes another sip* *smiles when David proposes to go to Italy* Yes, I’d love to… when we have some money… just rent a car and drive away… *grins at him and leans towards him to give him a kiss* *has a wholesome feeling in his stomach now and thinks he wouldn’t have found a way out of the miserable feeling so easily without David* *he would have buried himself and surrendered to the emotion, but now he likes that he didn’t even mind being pulled out of it* *says softly* Thanks… for being there.

David: *beams when Matteo agrees to go somewhere together and nods* Okay, we’ll save up for it then! *smiles softly* *leans into Matteo and answers his kiss* *sighs, because he has the feeling Matteo is doing a bit better* *wishes nevertheless that somehow everything will turn out great for him* *raises his eyebrow briefly, when Matteo thanks him, because he actually thinks it’s only natural to be there for him, but smiles and says softly* You’re welcome… *is happy that he finally seems to be able to give something back to Matteo, who is always there for him too* *puts his hand in Matteo’s neck and pulls him close again for a short kiss* *then laughs softly* That’s what couples do, isn’t it? Be there for each other… or so I heard… *grins lightly*

Matteo: *smiles when David just accepts the thank you* *enjoys kissing him again* *laughs then too at his words* Yeah, I heard that too… We’re doing pretty fine, I think… *punches Davis lightly and grins* Do you want to go back to the living room and find out if they have found that stupid key yet?

David: *nods enthusiastically, when Matteo says they’re doing pretty fine and laughs again* Better than fine! We are the best! *punches back and wonders for a moment what key Matteo is talking about* *grins then and shakes his head* I don’t care where the key is. That movie was stupid… let’s see if we can find something better… Netflix, maybe? *gets up and pulls Matteo by the hand off his bar stool to come with him*

(next play)

[ronanivarsson]

“I WAS BORN FOR SOMETHING GREATER THAN I WAS--AND GREATER I WOULD BECOME.” | MARY SHELLEY 

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Ronan Ivarsson

MEANING:

RONAN ( IRISH ) - “LITTLE SEAL” 

IVARSSON ( SWEDISH ) - “SON OF IVAR” 

NICKNAME(S): Ronan has never had a nickname, and would never allow someone to call him by a nickname. He’s only ever been Ronan, even to both of his parents. The only acceptation would be if someone called him by his last name. 

PREFERRED NAME(S): Ronan

BIRTH DATE: December 13th, 1980

AGE: 39

ZODIAC: Sagittarius 

GENDER: Male

PRONOUNS: He / His

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual 

NATIONALITY: Italian

ETHNICITY: Swedish 

CURRENT LOCATION: Verona, Italy 

LIVING CONDITIONS: Ronan lives in an expensive top floor penthouse near the center of Verona, which is furnished exactly to his tastes--dark wood, sleek metals, dark leather. He bought it shortly after being married to Lucien, but his husband rarely ever stays for more than a couple of days or weeks, which means that most of the time Ronan lives alone. It is also outfitted to be more accessible for him. 

TITLE(S): Richard III, The Vice, Councilman 

BACKGROUND

BIRTHPLACE / HOMETOWN: Stockholm, Sweden / Verona, Italy 

SOCIAL CLASS: Ronan was born into a wealthy, upper class family, and his wealth has only increased since he became the sole bearer of that family name. He considers himself to be among Verona’s elite, though in the end he holds no love for that title--in his own mind, he is better than everyone in Verona. 

EDUCATION LEVEL: Ronan graduated university with a degree in political science. 

FATHER: Magnus Ivarsson

MOTHER: Joanna Ivarsson. 

SIBLING(S): None as far as he knows, but his parents cheated on each other throughout their marriage, and his mother could have very well had other children without telling him. 

CHILDREN: None

PET(S): None

OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: All of Ronan’s other relatives are back in Sweden, and he does not communicate with them. (No brothers or nephews to do anything horrible to--yet!) 

PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS:

Caleb Tallmadge: An intern at the American embassy, who was Ronan’s first serious boyfriend right out of college. 

Rafaella Capulet: The love of his life, his soulmate as far as he’s concerned. Their relationship deteriorated when he became a member of the Montagues, and with the exception of one night after Ronan became engaged to Lucien, they have not spoken since. 

Lucien Ivarsson: Ronan’s husband, who he met shortly after things with Rafaella fell apart. Ronan fell out of love with him quickly, and their relationship is barely functional at the present--they appear in public together before going their separate ways, with the exception of rare moments where they fall together violently. 

Renzo Carozza: A distraction bordering on an addiction. 

ARRESTS?: None.

PRISON TIME?: None. 

OCCUPATION + HOME

PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: Ronan is an elected councilman in the city of Verona, and his family has several investments that he manages. 

SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: His salary as a Montague Soldato--a trifle in comparison to what he already has, however, he isn’t interested in earning money from the position. 

CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: Ronan loves being the center of attention, and the power that he commands as a politician. His ambition extends far beyond his current office however, and he’d like to eventually run for more prestigious positions. 

PAST JOB(S): Ronan interned with the mayor’s office right out of college, and steadily worked his way to his current position. He has only ever worked in politics. 

SPENDING HABITS: Ronan felt like an outsider growing up, so he uses his money to purchase the life he feels like he deserves, the life he always wanted. As long as he has money, and lots of it, he feels safe--it’s as much an armor as the designer suits he puts on every day. He’s always aware of exactly how much he has, and ways that he could obtain more. 

MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: A first edition of Frankenstein, his favorite novel. He bought it right after his mother died and he became the sole heir of the Ivarsson fortune. 

SKILLS + ABILITIES

PHYSICAL STRENGTH: 4/10

Ronan was born with limb-girdle muscular dystrophy, which means that the muscles of his arms and legs are very weak. He does what he can to stay as good of shape as possible, and he is capable of doing the bare minimum required of a Montague soldier. 

OFFENSE: 4/10

Ronan would prefer not to get into a physical altercation, but he knows the bare minimum of fighting techniques. He can throw a punch with accuracy, that would hurt reasonably. His strength is his ability to see other people’s weaknesses fairly quickly, and fight cleverly. 

DEFENSE: 5/10

Defense requires less physical exertion, which means Ronan is stronger in that area. 

SPEED: 0/10 

Ronan walks with a cane, and isn’t really capable of running. 

INTELLIGENCE: 10/10

Because he can’t fight with his fists, Ronan made his mind into a weapon. He’s well read, he attended one of the finest universities where he attained excellent grades, and he is well studied in the arts of manipulation. He can read people’s facial expressions with astounding accuracy, he is excellent at verbally manipulating people into action, and more than anything, he is capable of inspiring great loyalty in people through deception, though words, through the weaknesses they were so certain they could hide. Its the same principle as your other senses heightening when one is deprived--Ronan couldn’t fight physically, so he made sure every other power he possessed worked at maximum capacity. 

ACCURACY: 5/10 

The muscles in Ronan’s arms and shoulders are weak, but he can sustain the position necessary to fire a gun long enough to be average with it. 

AGILITY: 0/10

Ronan is not agile at all--his muscles are too weak to allow him to do anything agile. 

STAMINA: 7/10

Ronan is used to pain--his spine and his shoulders, his legs, all cause him pain on a regular basis. His daily life requires an amount of stamina that the average person doesn’t have to exert. 

TEAMWORK: 0/10

He allows others to think they’re working with him, that they’re part of a team with him, but he’s always looking out for himself and his own designs first and foremost. Other people are merely pieces he can move around, or discard, as they present themselves as useful to him. 

TALENTS: Ronan is excellent at public speaking, and his public persona is very magnetic. He is skilled at manipulating people, at reading their faces, at ferreting out their weaknesses. He played the violin growing up and still plays occasionally when he needs to clear his mind, and he enjoys playing chess. 

SHORTCOMINGS: Ronan is incredibly narcissistic, with little to no empathy for anyone. He cares exclusively for himself and the things that he wants, and he doesn’t care who he has to hurt, whatever he has to do, in order to get them. He is also incredibly greedy, and one of his primary interests is getting more money for himself. 

LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: Italian, Swedish, Latin, English 

DRIVE?: No, he’s always had a driver. 

JUMP-START A CAR?: No, that’s what mechanics or new cars are for. 

CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: No. 

RIDE A BICYCLE?: No, he physically can’t. 

SWIM?: Yes. 

PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: Yes, he plays the violin on occasion. 

PLAY CHESS?: Yes, and at a high level.

BRAID HAIR?: No. 

TIE A TIE?: Absolutely, a nice tie can make or break an outfit. 

PICK A LOCK?: Yes. 

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE + CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: Joel Kinnaman 

EYE COLOR: Brown

HAIR COLOR: Blonde 

HAIR TYPE/STYLE: He likes to stay pretty trendy--his current haircut is short on the sides and long on top, slicked back. 

GLASSES/CONTACTS?: None. 

DOMINANT HAND: Right

HEIGHT: 6′2 at his full height, but he usually is hunched over to varying degrees, rendering him about 5′10-6′0 to the eye. 

WEIGHT: 165

BUILD: He has a solid build, keeps what muscle he’s able to gain. 

EXERCISE HABITS: Swimming, lifting weights, physical therapy. 

SKIN TONE: Pale, but he tans pretty easily. 

TATTOOS: None, mostly because of his physical condition--but that could change if he found a person he trusted to give him one ;) 

PIERCINGS: None.

MARKS/SCARS: He has various scars from his work as a Montague soldier, and a few from when his mother was feeling particularly vindictive. 

NOTABLE FEATURES: Keen and sharp eyes, a mouth that seems to always be smirking to some degree, a sharp jawline. 

USUAL EXPRESSION: Pensive, like he’s looking for a weakness in your armor you didn’t even know you had, like he can see straight through you. 

CLOTHING STYLE: Designer suits, designer t-shirts and jeans, luxurious fabrics that feel nice against his back and shoulders, expensive watches, silk ties, all neutral and dark colors. Even his casual is dressed up from the average person. He also has several different canes with different heads on them. 

JEWELRY: He has a weakness for a nice watch, and if he’s in public he’s probably wearing his wedding ring. He also considers a cane as an accessory, and changes which one he uses depending on what he’s wearing.  

MAKEUP: None. 

ALLERGIES: None. 

DIET: He never had to cook for himself, so he generally orders out from Verona’s nicer restaurants. He drinks socially, and doesn’t really indulge in sugar that often. If Lucien is there and feels like cooking, he’ll eat whatever his husband makes. 

PHYSICAL AILMENTS: Ronan was born with limb-girdle muscular dystrophy, which means the muscles in his arms, shoulders, and legs are weakened. His lower back is curved, and the bones of his shoulders protrude in something called “scapular winging”. He wears a back brace most of the time to prevent a pronounced hunch and to lessen the pain in his spine, and he attends physical therapy anywhere from once to three times a week to deal with it.  

PSYCHOLOGY

JUNG TYPE: ENTP 

ENNEAGRAM TYPE: Type 3, The Achiever. The success-oriented, pragmatic type: adaptable, excelling, driven, and image conscious. 

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Lawful Evil

TEMPERAMENT: Choleric 

ELEMENT: Fire

PRIMARY INTELLIGENCE TYPE: Intra-personal Intelligence. 

MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: None officially diagnosed--a case could probably be made for narcissistic personality disorder. 

SOCIABILITY: Ronan is very sociable--after being forced to the shadows throughout his entire childhood, he loves nothing more than commanding a room, than being the center of everyone’s attention. He doesn’t care about people on a deeper level than that, but he likes being around them--he’d be a terrible politician if he wasn’t able to make people believe that they liked him, that he had their best interests at heart. Again I quote Les Miserables, “He was a charming young man, capable of being terrible.”  

EMOTIONAL STABILITY: Ronan doesn’t allow his emotion to get the better of him most of the time--he believes that emotion gets in the way of logic, prevents people from making the best, most rational decisions. He’d like to be cold and unfeeling, but more often than not his heart has a habit of getting in the way. He genuinely fell in love with Rafaella, it genuinely hurt when she left him, etc. He has a temper, but he’s worked very hard on keeping it under control. 

OBSESSION(S): power and money, being understood. 

COMPULSION(S): He doesn’t feel compelled to do anything--he refuses to be compelled to do anything. He is always in control. 

PHOBIA(S): Failure, Irrelevance. 

ADDICTION(S): Ronan isn’t addicted to anything. 

DRUG USE: Nothing recreationally.

ALCOHOL USE: He drinks socially, but he likes to be fully in control, fully able to observe everyone and everything going on around him. 

PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: Absolutely, violence is the quickest way to come to solutions, or to prove that you’re more powerful than your opponent. Violence is necessary if you want to get anywhere in Verona. 

MANNERISMS

SPEECH STYLE: Clear, properly enunciated, verbose. 

ACCENT: Italian

QUIRKS: Twisting his wedding ring, tapping his fingers against a nearby surface, never quite smiling, rubbing his hand over the juncture between his neck and shoulder. 

HOBBIES: Reading, playing chess, playing the violin, occasionally strolling through art galleries. He doesn’t have a lot of leisure time, and prefers to be actively doing something useful. 

NERVOUS TICKS: Twisting his wedding ring primarily, other than that he doesn’t like to show weakness, and has trained himself out of having a lot of ticks. 

DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: Ronan was cast aside the minute he was born, told repeatedly that he was monstrous simply because of a twist of fate that he had no control over. He wants to prove just how monstrous he truly is, and that he is capable of so much more than anyone ever thought he would be--he wants to see the faces of everyone in Verona when the monster they created comes to his throne to lead them. He wants control of the Montagues, the Capulets, and he wants control of Verona. 

FEARS: failure, being alone, becoming anything like either of his parents. 

POSITIVE TRAITS: intelligent, charismatic, perceptive. 

NEGATIVE TRAITS: manipulative, cruel, self-centered

SENSE OF HUMOR: dry, sarcastic, often at the expense of whoever he’s talking to. 

DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: Not really, he thinks it betrays a lack of intelligence. But if he feels like the person he’s talking to will respond better to it, he’ll let something slip. 

FAVORITES

ACTIVITY: Working, visiting Renzo at The Dark Lady, scheming. 

ANIMAL: He compares himself to a wolf, or to a snake--vicious, hungry, frightening creatures. 

BEVERAGE: Vodka Martini 

BOOK: Frankenstein, Il Principe, We Have Always Lived in the Castle, Memoirs of Hadrian, The Art of War, Wuthering Heights

COLOR: Navy Blue

DESIGNER: Yves St. Laurent, Burberry, Gucci

FOOD: Food isn’t really something he enjoys--its an annoyance he has to put up with in order to survive. 

FLOWER: Hellebore

GEM: Sapphire 

HOLIDAY: Ronan thinks holidays are trivial, and generally ignores them. 

MOVIE: Todd Browning’s 1931 adaptation of Dracula, Andrea Arnold’s 2011 adaptation of Wuthering Heights, Lawrence of Arabia 

QUOTE/SAYING:

“beware, for I am fearless and therefore powerful. I will watch with the wiliness of a snake, that I may sting with its venom. Man, you shall repent of the injuries you inflict.” 

-MARY SHELLEY, FRANKENSTEIN 

SCENT: Amouage--Jubilation XXV Man 

SPORT: None. 

TELEVISION SHOW: Hannibal, Game of Thrones, The Tudors

WEATHER: Dark and stormy. 

VACATION DESTINATION: His family owns property in Sweden that he has a few vaguely fond memories of. He also owns a place in Rome that he likes to go to when he needs space. 

ATTITUDES

GREATEST DREAM: To basically fashion himself a kind of king in Verona. He may be named after Richard III, who tried to do the same thing, but Ronan vows that he will be successful where is namesake failed. 

MOST AT EASE WHEN: He’s by himself and doesn’t have to wear any kind of mask--the only person he can fully trust is himself, therefore in private he puts forward the least amount of effort to disguise himself. 

LEAST AT EASE WHEN: His family is mentioned--particularly anything having to do with their deaths. He used to be at ease whenever Lucien was around, but in the present he feels like he has to be on his guard, whenever his husband decides to show his face. 

WORST POSSIBLE THING THAT COULD HAPPEN: Someone manages to outplay him, to reveal his machinations and get him killed. 

BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: Being elected to the Verona city council, taking his family fortune for himself, becoming bigger than the abuse his parents hurled at him. 

BIGGEST REGRET: Letting Rafaella walk away from him, marrying Lucien in an effort to fill the hole that she left. 

TOP PRIORITIES: Ascending in the ranks, eliminating anyone who he sees as a potential threat, gathering allies to himself. 

[casszabek]

meet CASIMIR RADOSLAW ZABEK, he has been living in milton for fifteen years and is generally known around town for being dedicated and temperamental. the twenty one year old, is apparently a youtuber but you didn’t hear that from me. when i think of him i think of: splatters of blood on ice, skulls drawn on a fogged up window, the beads of a rosary biting into your palm despite knowing god will never take you.   -   timothee chalamet, cismale, he/him as written by pepper, 23, est, she/her. 

ABOUT THE MUN.  id like to formally apologize for calling everything sexy. it seems i have forgotten every other word that could express that i like something. 

hello all, it’s me, ya gurl pepper. as the kids say... what is UP kyle! i usually like to start these things with a bit about me but god i feel like y’all already know too much about me already i skjsjk revealed it all in that groupchat but omg okay lemme think. i am 5′6 and the shortest person in my family and everyone makes fun of me for it. i don’t drink so every time i write my muses drunk it’s a whole mess. i can’t cook but i love to eat. i am in love with both stiles stilinski and rory sutton brady. i love to rollerblade but the one time i did the rollerblades highkey cut into my skin so i’ve never done it again. i am a big marvel and like general superhero nerd but i’m not proud of it cause disney really let me down sdkjsdjk okay that’s it i think onto cass stuff now!

BIO. *removes one earbud* the fuck you want

cass was born and raised in poland to parents who honestly never really cared for him. like it wasn’t that they were particularly cruel to him or anything, they just didn’t like him. they barely bothered with him most days, generally leaving cass to his own devices when they could or with friendly neighbours. cass pretty much grew up raised by those polish grandmothers who stand on their balcony’s to look out and see the gossip, but he was always pretty okay with that like he never knew any different. until he did. 

when cass was six he and his parents took a trip to america and milton to visit his grandfather. you see, his grandfather and grandmother came to america for their retirement around the time that cass was about two. they settled down in milton and quickly became the eccentric foreign couple. the zabeks. everyone loved them. but then cass’ grandmother died. and his grandfather fucking cyrofreezed her ass and shoved her in the shed like a psycho. 

so basically they were coming for the funeral but the funeral was just them all looking at his grandmother’s frozen body in his grandads fucking shed like she was an exhibit at a museum. it was weird. like really weird. but so was grandpa zabek so no one really questioned it. cass just remembers thinking that he couldn’t wait to get out of there. 

he never did. his parents fucking left him there. just like that. 

they literally said they were just going over to the next town for some dry ice for the grandma zabek popsicle and they never. fucking. came. back. 

so cass was stuck here. with his crazy psycho drunk of a grandpa. and a grandma who was quickly getting freezer burn. and a town full of weird ass people. he was living the dream. 

but then things got weirder. the towns people, who were also psychos, like fucking loved it?? like they were way too into it. based a whole town tradition on the whole thing. and that wasn’t it, no, pretty soon they were attracting tourists. to their little fucking house, or more specifically, the shed in the back. cass has vivid memories of leading curious people out there, bringing them into the dark shed and just pulling down the little light switch to a bunch of oohs and aahs. people were fucking crazy. and cass learned that pretty quickly. he was jaded at a very young age.

but it didn’t stop there. oh no. so before grandpa zabek was a drunk psycho guy he was an olympic figure skating coach. and so guess what he forced his grandson to do for bonding?? fucking ballet. fucking figure skating. cass never really had a bit of a choice honestly, the moment his grandfather figured out he had a talent he was pretty much set on training cass up for the olympics. and honestly, the moment that cass figured out that he was actually good, and could actually fucking beat people, well. he was pretty into it. like honestly cass has always been pretty into knives, and like having knives on your shoes?? hardcore. 

so for most of cass’ life that was it. going to school and barely passing. ice skating after school, and before. showing off grandma for money whenever they had a couple tourists in town. the zabek household was always people’s weird small town stop on their crosscountry road trips. some asshole even did a whole article about them once, and that just blew things up further. prick. if cass ever finds him he’ll take out his kneecaps. 

honestly cass was always pretty much a loner in school? got into a lot of fights, caused a lot of mayham. think patrick verona in ten things i hate about you. that was cass’ energy. he had like maybe three friends total and he was pretty okay with that. 

anyways, so after years of training and figure skating and ballet training, like yes literally ballet training, cass is pretty much all ready for the olympics. he and his grandad are about to go through the whole fucking process and guess what the old man’s dumbass does?? tries to rob a bank in the city to pay for the various olympic things they need. gets his ass arrested of course. like an idiot. 

cass was sixteen at the time, and royally pissed about it but well. what can you do. so cass goes back to town, no medal, no nothing but his broken up feet to show for it all, and honestly kind of depressed and scared like ??? he didn’t know what he was going to do without his grandpa and he certainly didn’t want to go to foster care. but then the weirdest thing happens. the town takes care of him. 

cass didn’t ask for it of course. cass will die before asking for help. but he didn’t have to. just like that random ladies were coming to his house with casseroles for lunch, and dinner, and breakfast. people were double checking to make sure cass’ ass was going to class because he still had to graduate. some random ladies from his ballet studio even came with him to his grandfather’s hearing. 

it was weird honestly?? cass has never really gotten that level of support, not even from his grandfather, but it was big gilmore girls energy. the whole town rallied around him as if cass was just an angry, violent little rory gilmore after a heartbreak. and honestly he was grateful for it, although he’d never say it. he feels a certain level of debt to them honestly, so you can pretty much always lowkey catch cass helping an old lady clean out her gutters or like helping some random suburban mom paint over the side of her house. helping out at one of the stores when someone is short staffed. that kind of stuff. 

he still has the family business though and that covers the bills. every once and a while cass is over charging some suckers to see a dead lady and he’s chill with it. honestly he’s gotten so used to it that he actually talks to frozen grandma zabek like it’s nothing sdkjdsjk like honestly he lives by himself and he’s lonely so he’s always like ‘wow, look at the fuckin’ haul this time around babcia... with all this i can buy you a new dress or something...put it over your cube... just kidding, i’m spending this shit on a new board, sorry’ sdkdsjkan

but to bring in extra money cass does youtube, something he kind of stumbled into honestly?? like cass is really good at video games, and he really likes them so honestly someone probably just uploaded a video playing video games once (cause cass wouldn’t do it himself so wanted connection i guess if anyone is willing to like be friends with this boy) and like it blew up?? and cass realized he could make a whole ass career based off of this?? so that’s what he did??? he makes videos of him playing games and just getting super pissed when he loses or messes up and people LOVE IT!! he probably goes by halo online because he doesn’t want people to find him. also will occassionally post videos of him skateboarding. honestly is really popular on line, like maybe not p*wdiepie level but maybe markiplier or ksi idk gamer youtubers guys but he’s up there. has never been to playlist live or anything like that though because he is not a people person sdkdsj but someone force him to go i feel like it would be fun

oof and that’s it i think ! a long ride but thank you for getting to the end 

PERSONALITY. i may seem like an angry person on the surface but deep inside i’m angrier.

and that’s it that’s his personality thanks for coming out. 

BLUNT. no but aside from being generally grumpy at all times cass is just so honest most of the time, like he straight up does not lie for the most part because he doesn’t see the point?? says what he wants no matter how rude. kind of a dick but it’s not as much that he’s trying to be it’s just that he never goes out of his way to be nice unless he really, really likes you. 

TACTLESS. cass does not have a suave or like ??? persuasive bone in his body?? again he just says what he wants?? actually super like useless with an actual crush??? the kind of person who had a crush on someone as a kid and wrote them a little note that was like ‘get out of my school’ yk dsksd very mean to his crushes, will tease you mercilessly and get flustered and yeet at any reciprocation?? he doesn’t know what to do tf ??

DEDICATED. god, cass is like resilient and also so freaking ambitious and determined when he wants something?? unfortunately the olympics and like skating didn’t work out but he put his blood sweat and tears into that and whenever he finds what else he wants to do he will put that same energy into that too. 

TEMPERMENTAL. it is so easy to piss cass off, but if it’s the right person it’s also really easy to make him laugh. like he hates most people, but his mood can be like so easily changeable. one second he’s laughing the next he’s punching some guy in the face. i’m making him sound kind of unhinged and sometimes he is but most of the time he’s chill. 

CONFLICTING. god cass doesn’t say what he means sometimes, which kind of conflicts with him being blunt but like??? at any sign of affection cass is like NO LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE when he really wants someone to stay around like skjdsj he’s got big tsundere energy sometimes and i hate it. very bad at apologizing, very bad at like admitting when he’s wrong, very bad at like receiving or reciprocating affection unless it’s the right person because his parents and grandfather never hugged him sdkjsd

DESTRUCTIVE. literally the type to like to set things on fire sdkjsdj obsessed with bonfire nights cause he can just burn things. will explode things for fun on his youtube channel occasionally. like big chaotic aries energy people. 

FUN FACTS *covers up real feeling with aggressive sarcasm*

polish is his first language and he mostly learned english through tv and video games. he has a knack for languages as well, like he can pick them up fairly easily, but he’s honestly better with his body. has a thick ass polish accent though and he probably used to get teased for it when he was younger but anyone who would tease him for it would get their ass beat so skjdsjk was it worth it?? 

one smacked a guy with his skateboard so hard it straight snapped in half. that’s the level of aggression we’re coming with today.

was raised catholic, and is still kind of a god fearing boy. still goes to church like religiously despite his grandfather not being around. will wear a pressed white button down and then someone will point out there’s like blood on the collar dskjdsj *cass vc* oh fuck 

lives in hoodies about a size too big for him, the colour black and combat boots. general angry and all the adults in town are like casimir sweetie you should wear something bright it’ll make you look like less of a ghost and like half of them get the finger for it which results in a smack upside the head for your boy.

very competitive. like incredibly competitive. cass needs to win or he’ll die basically. 

bisexual as all hell. is kind of tentative about it because ??? will god hate him ??? but he is attracted to both men and women and he’s pretty sure god hates him already so 

absolutely adores video game apps. has like a thousand on his phone, and is constantly idly playing them, lie whenever cass has nothing to do he’s playing video games 

has a skateboard, tends to ride it like everywhere. catch cass riding through town either smoking or vaping, squeezing in the gaps between people and causing chaos. it’s his vibe. 

a dog person BIG TIME! has a big lovable white dog named snieg and he loves her, she is the only roommate he ever wants to have and he is kissing her constantly sdkjdsk catch cass only smiling at this dog ever tbh

sleep talks and sleep walks especially when he’s stressed. cass will walk into the middle of the street asleep honestly which is exactly why he should never move to the city.

also smokes when he’s stressed. smokes a lot of weed, might even experiment with some other stuff while he’s partying because yeah his body was a temple but now?? fuck it sdkjds

like i said his grandpa was highkey the town drunk. cass had to drag him out of bars regularly and like bring him home and he also literally like climbed on top of like town square drunk af on like christmas day sdkjsdj * cass vc * gET DOWN YOU OLD FUCK!!! IF YOU DIE I’LL BLOW YOUR LIFE INSURANCE ON HOOKERS!! sdkjdsk so yeah basically the zabeks were chaotic but lowkey cass misses his grandfathers drunk ass he visits him in prison like once a month. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS *how to catch feelings and then throw them into the fire where they belong*

i always love getting rivalry connections for cass so a RIVAL please and thanks. 

a PARTNER IN CRIME of sorts! someone who he can turn to just cause havoc and such??? whenever they’re together people know it’s trouble.

lowkey a CONSCIENCE?? someone who can be the little voice in the back of cass’ head mayhaps. who can convince him that attempting to use someone’s roof as a skateboarding ramp might not be a good idea you know. keep him sane, keep him alive. 

someone who cass feels comfortable discussing his feelings with?? like a CONFIDANTE. this would probably have to be a true legend and a super rare person??? just someone who can listen to cass’ crap and just be there for him you know. likely his soft spot tbh

someone who casimir absolutely hates with every fibre of his being. give me that HATESHIP. someone who he wouldn’t piss on if they were on fire. it could be mutual or onesided.

someone who has maybe been in a few of cass’ vlogs that the internet like ships him with??? could be fun. there are like edits of them everywhere, they have a ship name, and cass wants to murder the world. 

an EX because i always love that kind of stuff. cass is the worst at relationships but he is always all in emotionally. it probably would have been a lot of fighting and arguing but also good when it was good honestly we can plot it out. 

the JACKIE TO HIS HYDE please and thank you. it’s what we deserve. 

 FRIENDS of course i nearly forgot but like friends please. maybe the couple of people who could tolerate him in high school??

and finally.... FWBS or EWBs because why not, that’s as much as cass can handle emotionally.

omg i lied cause also A CRUSH! like a childhood crush on cass’ part, or on your muse’s part, or a crush that has just arisen now an cass lke avoids them like the plague for it. although if cass has a crush on your muse just be prepared for him to be irrationally kind of mean because he doesn’t know how to emotion. 

a SIBLING LIKE RELATIONSHIP!! big brother for cass, or cass can be the big brother, a big sister for cass, or a little sister. i’m here for it all whether it’s bickering siblings or protective siblings that would do anything for each other. a kind of found family thing if you will, please and thanks.

and absolutely anything else! i am one hundred percent happy to brainstorm something if none of these catch your eye so like this and i’ll hit you up! or react to me on discord either works tbh

[henryzhxng]

@rafaellacapulet​ asked: 🔆 + au where raf is adopted by the zhang family mentioned: @gertrudezhang​

TRIGGERS: pseudo incest (romantic/sexual attraction between people who developed those feelings before they became siblings, in their very late teens), reluctant physical intimacy (related to the fact that it’s considered amoral).

Rafaella has been a Zhang for over a year the first time Henry comes home. 

He’s stayed away quite deliberately, unsure of how to process the news. It was a formality, really, a way to give Rafaella stability in her future, for her parents had nothing to leave her with. It wasn’t hard to declare them unfit, and since Rafaella was almost seventeen, it was her choice whether or not to declare herself adoptable. Mama had explained it quite thoroughly over the phone, likely worried about Henry’s reaction, but he was still in school, interning over the summer to pad his future resume. 

First thing he does upon returning to Verona is visit Damiano, because it’s been well over a year and his exemption from soldato duty ends while he’s home for the summer. The sun is kissing the edges of Verona’s buildings as he shuts the gate behind him. Sunset is beautiful this time of year, and so is the girl ( no, woman ) who runs down the front steps of their family villa, throwing her arms around his neck. ❝ Henry ! ❞ she crows, sweet enough to make his teeth ache, kissing his cheeks one by one and leaving the imprint of gloss on his skin. 

Her hand remains on his neck a moment as she talks, as if she isn’t thinking about it, which she probably isn’t. Henry wishes he could do the same, but no: unfortunately for all parties, Rafaella’s touch burns the same after almost two years absent. He’d almost convinced himself that feeling was gone from him entirely, but just as always, it only takes a moment with her before everything he buried comes rushing back to the surface. ❝ — told Mama, but she’s making 四喜丸子 . ❞ Rafaella pauses, biting her lip, and he realizes he hasn’t been listening, caught up as he is on the sound of her voice. He wants very badly to turn around and get back in the car. ❝ Howard isn’t coming. Working late, I think. ❞

She takes him by the hand to lead him inside, and he thinks about the way she calls him Howard but calls Mama the same as he does.  Rafaella is eighteen, now, and even if she wasn’t, she wouldn’t need to call his parents by... well, parental names. She does it because she wants to, because she loves Mama. It twists his stomach, or maybe that’s the flower-and-spice smell of her shampoo as she turns her head, curls bouncing. He follows with alacrity, a smile reluctantly blooming on his face as Rafaella begins to regale him with tales of what happened since he’s been away. The mafia, as always, is making its’ moves, but it drips with honey when it comes from her tongue. 

Rafaella is trying to distract him from the fact that his father didn’t feel it was important to see him for the first time in two years. It mostly works.

Dinner is perfect; while he’s away, he misses Mama’s cooking so much it hurts. He can make most of it himself, because she always wanted him to have a degree of independence, but it’s not the same. Love, she would say, it’s love that changes the taste, and he would agree because it feels wrong to deny her that one. They sit around the kitchen island instead of the formal dining table, and Rafaella fits like she belongs, and her name is Rafaella Zhang now and it’s all too much.

He begs off early after dinner, to shower and sleep off the feeling you get being on a plane. Henry doesn’t sleep. He lies awake for hours, trying, afraid of what he’ll dream of if he closes his eyes.

This becomes a pattern, inevitable as the heat death of the universe. Any time they have to spend a lot of time in the same room, Henry finds a way out as fast as possible. He doesn’t even go into the kitchen at the same time as Rafaella, even though it’s massive, because one time moving her out of the way of a cupboard and curving a hand around her hip was enough to give him a fight or flight response. He used to dream about Rafaella Zhang, about flowers in her hair, her fingers in between his and the moon above them because they’ve always told their most precious secrets in the dead of night.

Now he wakes up gasping, all the blankets thrown off the side of the bed, flat on his back with the feeling of her hair brushing his cheek as she threw her arms around him that first day. He buries his face in his pillow, but his whole body is still too warm, and eventually that, too, is thrown in the direction of the wall. Eventually he remembers he has some melatonin in the kitchen; it might not help him sleep dreamlessly, but it will keep him from being awake, and hopefully he can forget next time he opens his eyes.

He grabs a pair of sweats and tugs them on, shuffling out to search the cabinets for what he needs. He must be tired, because Henry doesn’t notice Rafaella come in, not until she’s sat at the island and staring, chin in her hands and elbows on the table. He jumps, squinting in the darkness toward her silhouette. ❝ Can’t sleep, either ? ❞ he asks, voice heavy and low with exhaustion.

She tilts her head before reaching behind her and turning on the warm, soft light in the corner. It gives everything around them a dim little glow, soft and almost dreamy, like this, too, could be another vision he isn’t supposed to have anymore. ❝ Hoping to catch you at a weak point, ❞ she admits, shameless, one corner of her mouth sliding upward. She’s caught him alright. He sighs, abandoning his search altogether in favor of sliding into the seat across from her. The corner is an intimate space, a place just for close family to eat when they aren’t entertaining, and she hooks one ankle around his, forcing him to cough so he can cover his gasp.

Henry holds his hands up in surrender. ❝ You caught me. I’m weak. ❞ For you, he breathes, mouth closed, words bubbling on his tongue, I’m so weak for you, fuck. The words swirl around his head, banging around, a pin ball in the complex machine of his mind. He should’ve put on a shirt, but he really thought she’d be asleep. Stupid of him in retrospect. ❝ What’s on your mind ? ❞

Rafaella hums, pretending to consider it, though her movement is too dramatic for him to mistake it for sincerity. ❝ Well... ❞ she trails off, tapping her index finger against her lower lip. ❝ Let’s see... the ankle strap on my wedges broke earlier, so I’ll have to get new ones. I could eat, I suppose... oh ! ❞ She raises that same finger as though she’s come up with something brilliant, her eyes meeting his in the low light. ❝ I remember now: you, Henry Zhang, are avoiding me. ❞

Getting here was inevitable. How did he think he could hide from her, when she always cracks him open and reads him like a book? ❝ Maybe. It’s weird, I guess. ❞

❝ Weird ? ❞ Her brows scrunch up slightly, and he wants to take it back, if only to take that hurt look from her face. Henry never wants to see it again. He thought it would stop if she wasn’t living with her parents anymore. To have been the cause, though, that is unbearable.

❝ No, ❞ he hurries, even though it is, even though he’s lying like an idiot. ❝ No, but... I know that it was the right thing, it’s just not... ❞ It isn’t how he envisioned her joining his family, late nights falling asleep in the hammock outside, his fingers barely brushing over her cheek because he was too afraid to wake her and let her know his thoughts from the look on his face alone. ❝ It’s different, is all. I don’t know how to, how to — how to be. Act. Whatever. ❞ She makes him so inarticulate sometimes, jumbled up, his mind unable to decide the perfect words to say to her.   

Rafaella shares a look with him that seems to last an eternity, then slides out of her seat, shoving at his shoulder until he moves enough so she can sit beside him. It should be cramped, but in such an expansive home, even a corner nook has plenty of room. He lets her take his hand, meshing their fingers, hers cold, his warm. ❝ But you love me, don’t you ? ❞ Her voice is so small, small enough he has to strain to hear it, even though she’s close enough that he can feel the gentle puffs of air from her breathing. He looks down at the table, at their hands, anything but her.

❝ I love you, ❞ he murmurs, just as small, almost like a secret. Nothing like a promise, nothing to show how strongly it binds him together.

❝ Then it’s easy, ❞ she says, and he doesn’t know her anymore. Who is this person with the voice of a mouse, who speaks as though love could ever be easy? ❝ We’re supposed to love each other, you know. ❞ When he looks up at last, she’s close enough that he can count the freckles on her face, her blue eyes almost glowing in the dim light.

Henry squeezes her hand. He’s the worst person on earth. He wants to take himself directly to jail, wrists outstretched and panic in his eyes. He does none of that, looking away and shaking his head. Rafaella’s cool fingertips touch his cheek, and he wonders if she can tell that he’s blushing, fiercely, uncontrollably, against her as she coaxes him back into looking at her. ❝ But there’s something else. ❞ It’s not a question, and it offers no escape hatch.

❝ Not the way I should, ❞ he breathes, heart pounding, her hand cupping his face, her words reaching inside him and tugging out all the parts that don’t work correctly. ❝ I don’t love you the way I should. ❞ His eyes slide shut, afraid to see her heart on her sleeve as he so often does. What will she look at him with, now? Disgust, venom, maybe even pity? None of them are options he finds bearable. He is —

— not breathing. Maybe dying? No, he’s being kissed. Rafaella has let go of his hand, and it stays uncertain in his lap as she holds his face in both of hers. It’s like it was too important for only one hand, he thinks deliriously, kissing her back. Maybe it really is a delusion. It feels dreamlike, certainly, and Henry tests it by sliding a hand up her arm, feeling her shiver. Usually at this point, she pulls away, berating him and leaving him behind, but this dream, this dream that is certainly real, takes a different tone. 

He gets distracted. Who could blame him? Rafaella holding him close, one hand sliding down to brush his neck. It was perfect, and he hated it for how perfect it was, for how was he to move past it? He pulled away from her for a moment, to breathe or maybe to take it in, and the panic clawed up his spine, forcing his hand away from her skin as his eyes widened. Hers were barely open, her whole expression dazed and dreamy. He wanted to kiss her like that a hundred times. He wanted her to look just like this, just because of him, at all hours.

❝ Rafaella... ❞ Henry trailed off, unable to proceed. He hadn’t prepared for the possibility of her thinking of him in this way, so preposterous to him as it had been mere moments ago. How could he explain why this should never have happened, when he dreamed about it every night, when he wanted it so badly he would kill to have it again? ❝ I don’t know if... if we — ❞

Her hand on his face again, fingers warming each time she touched him. Her lips on his, taking his lower lip between hers as prisoner. Stupid, he thinks deliriously, she’s literally kissing him stupid, but he feels his brain sliding out of his ears as he kisses her back, abandoning the pretense of caution in favor of licking the roof of her mouth and making her shiver. She turns, fully, one knee on the bench and one foot on the floor, hovering a little above him as she sips at his mouth like wine. He doesn’t want sips from her, now. She wants her to down him like a shot, to feel as drunk as he does, and as hungry. 

Henry slides a hand up until he can cup the back of her neck, the other at her waist. He squeezes just a bit, just to see how she reacts, and Rafaella rewards him sweetly, gasping faintly into his mouth at the hint of pressure. He takes this to be approval and tugs, turning so that his legs face outward in the kitchen and Rafaella slides down into his lap. The hand on her neck he slides into his hair, slowly closing his fist and holding her tightly against him. She moans when he pulls her head back, allowing him to breathe against her neck. Rafaella gets him back, of course, hooking her legs around his waist and digging her nails into his shoulders. He gasps at the vulnerability of her throat, sinks his teeth in just because he can; he likes the sound she makes, some strangled animal noise she tries to prevent and can’t quite manage. ❝ Henry, ❞ she breathes, and he’d do anything to hear it again.

Anything, anything, he promises the universe at large, I’d do anything. 

The summer becomes a disaster. It’s a hurricane of touches, of brushing in the hall and shuddering at the sound of the shower running in Rafaella’s room. They go out late and end up ‘crashing at someone’s house’, which is code for Henry running up an enormous tab at Hotel Emilia. When both his parents are on business trips, they’re ravenous for each other, and when they’re together, it feels like perfect. This is the only right thing, the only smart thing, the only thing that could possibly make them happy.

It’s when he’s away, or she is, that it becomes a problem. Henry has a habit of over-thinking, and he can’t put it on hold. What will his parents say, if they find out? They’re her parents too. Legally, anyway. All of his friends and hers know about their mixed family unit. Nothing about this can be happy.

Yet it feels happy. Being with Rafaella feels like coming home for the first time.

It’s one of his first out-of-town missions that set a real fire within him. This will ruin his mother’s life, it will ruin Rafaella’s life. Henry is poison to her, he can see it now, without the scent of her filling the room or the brush of her soft skin within reaching distance. Since he can’t control how he feels, Henry needs to remove some part from the equation.

The only thing he can control is himself. So he applies to endless graduate programs, and when he finds one as a teaching assistant in Rome, he takes it. He doesn’t tell Rafaella. It takes two weeks to set things in order, and all the while he never says a word, kissing her in the dead of night, waking up with her on a particularly memorable weekend, taking bubble baths with her like a lunatic.

It only proves to him that they don’t have the willpower to make the right decision. And when he packs in the dead of night, he pretends he doesn’t feel bad. He pretends he isn’t hollow, that without Rafaella he can still be his whole self someday. He calls Mama from the airport and explains that the offer came too soon and with a time crunch, and he couldn’t refuse.

On the plane to Rome, he blocks Rafaella’s number.

[rafaellacapulet]

My heart was always a war, bloodied beats asking for a respite, in the arms of a knifelike cold.

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Rafaella Sibella Delfini Capulet PRONUNCIATION:  rah-fye-ai-lah see-meh-nah del-fi-na cap-yew-let MEANING:

Rafaella -- an Italian female name taken from the male name Rafael, meaning "god has healed". The name was given to a girl who was boy with a war cry on her lips and a fierce heart beating away. But all they could see was the healing touch she carried; how she repaired two broken hearts and made them fall in love all over again.

Ximena --  Ximena is an old Spanish and Portuguese female equivalent of the Hebrew biblical name Simon (which means ‘hearkener, listener’). It was the name of her mother’s best friend, a proud woman who was as clever as she was damnably honest. When Rafaella was a child she often times confused Ximena with her mother, for even then, she knew that they loved each other and loved each other well.

Delfini -- It was a name that carried weight, once. Before it was associated with a drug den and a fallen legacy, the name Delfini was synonomous with young money and rising success. But now it’s dead, long forgotten in the mix of opioids and Montague drugs. What once was a mansion is now a dilapidated building of broken things. Including her parents and their name.

Capulet -- Need more be said?

NICKNAME(S): Rosaline, Rafi, Raf, Ella PREFERRED NAME(S): Raf, Ella, Rafaella BIRTH DATE: August 7th, 1992 ZODIAC: Leo, the Lion GENDER: Cisfemale PRONOUNS: She/her ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Panromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Pansexual. NATIONALITY: Italian ETHNICITY: Black (African), White (German) CURRENT LOCATION: Verona, Italy TITLE(S): Consigliere

background

HOMETOWN: Verona, Italy. SOCIAL CLASS: Upper Class. EDUCATION LEVEL: Received her Laurea (Bachelor’s) in Business and Art History at the University of Milan. She graduated a year earlier than traditional, receiving her degree in 2 years instead of 3.  FATHER: Giovanni Delfini (biological), Vincenzo Capulet ( neé Russo) (adopted) MOTHER: Marta Delfini (biological), Elena Capulet (adopted) SIBLING(S): None. PET(S): None (yet). OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: Juliana Capulet (cousin), Tiberius Capulet (cousin) PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: Alexander Rallis (ex-best friend), Bellamy Santo Domingo (ex-best friend), Odessa Vernon (ex-best friend), Matthias Warren (former pseudo-brother), Lawrence Vernon (former friend) ARRESTS?: None. PRISON TIME?: None.

occupation & income

PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: Consigliere -- it is not unsurprising that this is the occupation that affords her the best income. The hours she works for this job are far beyond the traditional “full-time” arrangement and the overtimes demands far more taxing. But the numbers in her bank mollify her slightly. SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: Art Curator of the Twelfth Night Museum -- she specializes in Medieval and Renaissance art, but her eye for Surrealism is unparalleled. When she applied for the job it was under an alias so that she wouldn’t be favored due to the Capulet name. But she takes full advantage of it when acquiring new pieces for exhibits and galleries.  TERTIARY SOURCE(S) OF INCOME: Tutor -- in the free time she has, Rafaella tries to tutor those in the lower income areas of Verona. Many of her students are within the Lower Secondary Education range, which allows her to exercise her knowledge of writing and history, but she doesn’t charge. The parents who can afford to typically offer her 20 or so euros and food. CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: Very much so. PAST JOB(S): Museum Volunteer, Museum Intern, Art Instructor, History Teacher SPENDING HABITS: Average. Rafaella primarily spends the amount expected of a middle-class child, but every so often she treats herself in the manner an upper-class child would. She favors the feel of vintage clothes and items, but will indulge herself with a Dolce and Gabbana perfume or a Versace bag. After going without the bare necessities, she has learned to appreciate what she has and take care of it, which means that the more expensive wares she buys tend to be long-lasting -- therefore, allowing her to resist the urge to splurge. MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: Her rose blade ring given to her by Tiberius, a stamp bearing the Delfini crest, a picture of the three Capulet cousins, and a hair clip given to her by Alexander Rallis. 

skills & abilities

PHYSICAL STRENGTH: Moderate to strong. For the most part, Rafaella has the average strength of a woman who lifts four times a week. But when she’s angered or has an adrenaline rush, she’s quite strong. OFFENSE: Whenever in a violent situation, her first instinct is to reach for a knife and a gun. That is to say, she is a vocal proponent of the belief that offense is the best defense. Her hand-to-hand combat is strong, but it is primiarly because she loves blood and seeing it run red -- whether it be her own or her opponent’s. DEFENSE: As previously stated, she doesn’t quite believe in it. Which is to say, it can be rather week.  SPEED: Below Average. While Rafaella enjoys running and things that challenge her speed-skill, she isn’t the fastest, believing that strength, above all, should be a priority. That, and the length of her limbs somewhat inhibits the speed of her coordination, making her somewhat slow.  INTELLIGENCE: It is known that Rafaella is a sharp woman, being as cunning and observant as she is. The fact that she has had to apply critical thinking earlier than expected in her life has only aided that. However, what has inhibited her intelligence is her inability to empathize strongly with the plight of others and her rather singular-minded way of thinking. Rather than adapting her thoughts and opinions to change with new information, she tries to fit concepts and ideas into her own plans. ACCURACY: Above average. AGILITY: Average. STAMINA: Average. TEAMWORK: Rafaella is a strong delegator and a lead-by-example type. However, she prefers to work independently from others, within the sphere of her own authority. While she does enjoy collaborative sessions, she appreciates the role of overseer more.  TALENTS: Lying, manipulating, plotting, creating, acting, designing, advising, diplomacy, networking, photographing, show-jumping, tying cherry stems with her tongue, cooking, drinking, persevering, organizing, promoting, philanthropy, business communication SHORTCOMINGS: Communicating (interpersonally), listening, empathizing, singing, trusting, unable to practice temperance, indulging, overachieving, conning, nosey, paranoid, prideful, insensitive, ambitious, selfish, conniving, conflicted, bossy, domineering, machiavellan, duplicitous, over-protective, condescending, volatile LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: Italian, Russian (learning), English, French, (learning), Spanish (learning) DRIVE?: Yes. JUMP-STAR A CAR?: Yes. CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: Yes. RIDE A BICYCLE?: Yes. SWIM?: Yes. PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: No. PLAY CHESS?: Yes. BRAID HAIR?: Yes. TIE A TIE?: No. PICK A LOCK?: No (learning) (she typically just smashes or shoots them).

physical appearance & characteristics

FACE CLAIM: Jasmine Sanders. EYE COLOR: Blue. HAIR COLOR: Blonde. HAIR TYPE/STYLE: Curly. In professional settings, she typically has it tied back. In casual settings, she has it loose. When she is working after hours, it is often in a rather volumptuous top knot.  GLASSES/CONTACTS?: No. DOMINANT HAND: Left. HEIGHT: 5′7 WEIGHT: 135 BUILD: Slim. EXERCISE HABITS: Rafaella has a personal trainer and rotates between aerobics, lifting, swimming, and running. Usually when she does aerobics, she finishes with swimming. When she does lifting, she begins with running. This is not counting her sparring sessions that occur three times a week.  SKIN TONE: Type III. She’s light brown/golden and has only sunburned oncfe in her life.  TATTOOS: Three. One on her wrist of a cross that looks like a dagger. Another of laurels encircling the lower half of her hips. Another of a sun eclipsing the moon in a classical style on her left side beneath her breast. PEIRCINGS: She has four. Two lobe piercings and two orbitals. Three are on her feft ear, one on her right. But she often times wears an earring cuff on her right ear.  MARKS/SCARS: It depends on when you encounter her. While Rafaella gets into many fights, she tries not to scar. If you encounter her on a particularly bad day, she’s likely to have some cuts and bruises. Although she has three freckles beneath her left breast, and two birthmarks -- one below her ear and the other on her lower back. NOTABLE FEATURES: Her eyes and hair. USUAL EXPRESSION: Slightly pursed lips and a furrowed brow. It isn’t quite resting bitch face, but there is a lot of judgement in this expression.  CLOTHING STYLE: Primarily business casual. However, she stylizes her outfits with accesories that highlight her status and her own unique sense of style. When it comes to the weekend, though, she typically wears skirts, heels, and blouses that are pink and white more often than not.  JEWELRY: Rings, earrings, bracelets, necklaces, anklets, barrettes. She loves them all, intermingling silver and gold. For the most part, she favors simplistic designs, but makes up for the plainness by wearing them in abundance.  ALLERGIES: Bees.  DIET: She maintains a primarily vegetarian diet, but will occasionally indulge in chicken or pork once or twice a week. Red meat has never sat well with her, so she has lived without. And, while she does enjoy fish, she simply doesn’t eat it that often. PHYSICAL AILMENTS: None.

psychology

JUNG TYPE: INTJ (The Architect). ENNEAGRAM TYPE: 3 -- the Achieve. MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral. TEMPERAMENT: Choleric. ELEMENT: Iron. EMOTIONAL STABILITY: Rafaella keeps her emotions in neat little compartments and is often times able to dissasociate herself from them. However, when unable to do so, she becomes quiet voltile and fractured.  OBSESSION(S): Control and protection. She has a need to constantly have a hand in whatever developments there are ongoing. The control is necessary for her to protect those closest to her heart: i.e. Juliana and Tiberius.  COMPULSION(S): Using touch as a means of domineering and controlling the flow of conversation whenever communicating interpersonally. Having her nails done. Keeping her gun and knife clean.   PHOBIA(S): None. ADDICTION(S): None.  DRUG USE: Rarely. ALCOHOL USE: Consistent.  PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: Yes.

mannerisms

SPEECH STYLE: She speaks in a formal, confident manner -- her words are assured and firm, being as deliberately structured as they are, and a little drawn out. It’s in the overtly literate way of someone with a luxurious education and too much tutelage. Her voice is rather low and slightly raspy, which makes her sound a little like an old-money child. She isn’t. QUIRKS: She asks more questions than most people, both aloud and mentally. Before heading out her door, she adjusts every piece of jewelry on her person, even if they’re perfect. Whenever she passes by a church, she blesses herself.  HOBBIES: Reading, taking photos, sketching with charcoal (strictly), collecting flowers and arranging bouquets, and researching historical figures (primarily artists and old movie stars). NERVOUS TICKS: Playing with her hair/clothes, pursing her lips, adjusting her clothes. DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: Success, protection for her loved ones, and intellectual self-satisfaction. FEARS: Losing. Losing her loved ones. POSITIVE TRAITS: Ambitious, Cunning, Charming, Inventive, Daring, Observant. NEGATIVE TRAITS: Judgemental, Insensitive, Ruthless, Wicked, Violent, Machiavellan.  SENSE OF HUMOR: Dark and dry. DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: No. She has nothing against it, it merely feels wrong on her tongue.

favorites

ACTIVITY: Touring museums. ANIMAL: Lions. BEVERAGE: Bellinis.  BOOK: Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. COLOR: Pastel variations of pink. DESIGNER: Dolce and Gabbana. FOOD: Tagliatella pasta with truffle.  FLOWER: Peonies.  GEM: Morganite.  HOLIDAY: All Saints’ Day. MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: Train. MOVIE: To Have And Have Not. QUOTE/SAYING: “ …the war goes on—an ache in the bones, an ache in the gut, an ache in the heart.” -  Susan Sonta.  SCENERY: Mountains in the summer during Sunset. SCENT: L’Atelier de Givenchy Néroli Originel.  SPORT: Equestrian sports -- dressage and show jumping. WEATHER: Cloudy days with intermittent sun and a slight breeze.  VACATION DESTINATION: Barcelona, Spain. 

attitudes

GREATEST DREAM: Traveling the world, knowing the Capulets, and Verona are safe and flourishing.  GREATEST FEAR: Watching Tiberius and Juliana die in front of her, unable to do anything.  MOST AT EASE WHEN: Wandering through a museum, uninhibited by any pressing matters or time constraints.  LEAST AT EASE WHEN: Vocalizing emotions in a nonprofessional/nonbusiness setting.  WORST POSSIBLE THING THAT COULD HAPPEN: Being cast out by the Capulets. BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: Gaining the role of Advisor through her own efforts and earning her way into the role. It was simultaneously her worst experience because she had to spill so much blood to get there. But, still.  BIGGEST REGRET: Not running away earlier.  MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT: Admitting to herself that she’s a turncoat.  BIGGEST SECRET: If given the chance she would murder her parents. Brutally.  TOP PRIORITIES:  Currently, there are three overarching priorities she has in mind and is working towards -- ensuring the success of the Capulets, expanding their networking and business contacts, maintaining the safety and well-being of lower-income Veronans. 

[scmniums-blog]

here are a few messy intros i really should’ve gotten out a while ago but couldn’t ! 

( DYLAN O’BRIEN. 24. HE/HIM. CISMALE. ) BEAU FORD, + JOCULAR, - IRRESPONSIBLE.

beau is a rich boy who moved from NYC to kola because of his childhood best friend/ride or die mirabella was and he’d basically do anything if his gut tells him too. which is conveniently, how he made a fortune in the stock market. he’d always had a mind for numbers and more book smart than he leads on. 

( CARLSON YOUNG. 22. SHE/HER. CISFEMALE. ) CLAUDIA SILVER, + GIFTED, - ANALYTICAL.

claudia is a Full on nerd. her hobbies include coding , tinkering and toying . she has a twin brother who she absolutely loves. she was raised by a single mother and having them both put a lot on their mom who didn’t understand fully how much care they were in need off. it was her brother who sort of stepped up and learned how to cook and Claudia followed only in their footsteps, learning how to do basic things. when she started school, she loved it. it made sense to her and it wasn’t long until teachers were aching to put her in advanced courses, but that was pretty hard to do when her mother was barely seen. when she decided to go to the summer class, her mom wasn’t always on time to pick her up. she didn’t mind, really, instead she just hung out in the library in the towns center. that’s where she started her little business. a lot of the students that attended summer school were stuck at the library waiting for their parents, except they we’re a lot dumber than she was, and they were willing to pay quite a bit to pay for her services. it started by proofreading essays and helping with homework and then into writing essays/projects for summer school and when class got back in session, she had more business than she had to do with. now, she is part of the bling ring with a few other miscreants who sneak into rich peoples houses and rob them blind, and have a little fun.

( CAITLIN STACEY. 27. SHE/HER. CISFEMALE. ) ROWAN GILMORE, + ARCADIAN, - PENDULOUS.

a kindergarten teacher with a mound of debt , rowan is sincerely a Hot Mess. she’s lacking in balance and can come across as indecisive when it comes to important decisions and seeks answers in herself rather than others. but that go with the Flo attitude has landed her in several sticky situations that she’d trying to work herself out of.

( JAKE GYLLENHAAL. 36. HE/HIM. CISMALE. ) HYDE LARSON, + CONVIVIAL, - PRESUMPTUOUS.

hyde is a nice guy with a gregarious past. in high school and college he was known as the class clown, always ready to have a good time and mess around with his other classmates. but the grades he got and the connections he made got him recruited by the fbi when he left college, training secretly in dc under the cover of interning at a investing firm. for a few years he worked in the new york office before moving to kola on a convert mission where he’s been for the past two years. 

( KEITH POWERS. 26. HE/HIM. CISMALE. ) BELLAMY YOUNG, + ENTHRALLING, - IMPETUOUS. 

bellamy was born/raised in brooklyn. as an up and coming stand up comedian, bellamy has been trying to make a name for himself since he was 18 getting snickered at in the small comedy clubs in new york. after one of his bits going viral on youtube and facebook, he gained some momentum and got a netflix special he’s filming two weeks from now in la. he moved to kola last month to tour on the west coast next year with kiki, his childhood best friend who he likes more than he realizes.

( MICHEAL B JORDAN. 29. HE/HIM. CISMALE. ) WESLEY HILL, + INVENTIVE, - OPINIONATED.

raised by a single mom, wes has always been appreciative of time. he knew how valuable it was. time was the thing that you could never get more of, and his mother made sure he knew that. his mom was forced to work nights to try and provide for the both of them since his father disappeared when she was only a few months pregnant. her dedication and stories of helping save lives inspired him to work hard and become the cardiothoracic surgeon that he is today. his decision to move to kola wasn’t easy, but the warm weather helps his mother ( when he can convince her to stay with him a few months out of the year ) and with dalia in kola with him, he doesn’t doubt his decision as much as he used to 

( LORENZO ZURZOLO. 18. HE/HIM. CISMALE. ) MATTEO DE LUCA, + CHASTE, - TACITURN.

matteo moved from florence to kola 4 years ago when his parents were involved in a mysterious shooting involved with the mafia. after that, ( something he still doesn’t have the full details on ) he moved with his cousins in verona, except his parents didn’t tell him about their involvement before they died and with them dying so suddenly, he was blindsided. he started to notice something was wrong when at the funeral when he didn’t recognize half the faces in the room. but after a couple weeks of living with his aunt, he started to get a funny feeling when he was walking home from school, like someone was watching him. eventually, the paranoia started to settle in and he brought it up to his aunt and THAT’S when he got shipped off to kola to live with his other aunt. it felt a lot like running away and with how quick it happened, it definitely chucked him through a loop.

it wasn’t until he was 17 that he learned that his aunt wasn’t really his aunt, and that it was through mafia connections that the people who murdered his parents weren’t able to track him down. he’s laying low in kola, but has always stuck with the dream that he’ll get to go back home to florence.

[cedarmoons]

written for my fic trade with @4biddenleeches,​ featuring Julian and her apprentice Aredhel! references events from her awesome one foot in the grave fic, but you don’t have to read that to enjoy this! vaguely nsfw esp at the end.

*

Once, Julian had not thought himself a particularly lucky man. He still remembers that night he’d broken into her shop, and she had presented him with Death’s sickle-shaped grin. But in the year that she has been with him—him! of all the people she could have chosen to love, she chose him, not once but twice, even knowing what he has done, to other nameless innocents, to her—he knows one truth:

Not even Fortuna herself could find another man luckier on the whole of the wide, wide earth.

Their visit to Vesuvia will be short—a break from their constant travels, to reacquaint with old friends and family, to allow themselves a plan for where they wish to travel next. They have sailed to the archipelago of Aransia; crossed to the wooded fjords of Hjallnir and its shining city built in the center of a mountain lake; traversed the desert of Nopal to Drakr, that verdant paradise where she had whispered of perhaps, one day, making a home.

(And oh, how badly he wants that—a home, nestled in the mountains, perhaps, with a well he could draw fresh water from while she leaned out the window of their bedroom and called out to him—)

But as Julian stands on the deck of the ship that is taking them into Vesuvia, his eyes on the horizon—red, he sees, and his mouth curls into a smile. Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. Surely, a sign, an omen of good fortune: the second time in two years he has returned to Vesuvia, yet this feels like a welcome home. He is not a hunted fugitive convinced of his own inevitable death, but a man in love, a man with a future.

(A future with her: he should have known, he thinks, even with his missing memories, that his twisting paths would have only led him back to her.)

A true year they will have been together, in one week’s time. A year since he had broken into her apothecary a second time, seeking Asra for answers yet again. Asra had not been there—but she had. She had, and that night his life had changed and his luck had turned.

He doesn’t want the day to pass without... some sort of celebration. Some way to mark this milestone, this anniversary (and how short, how inconsequential this one year would be, compared to the years, decades, he hopes to spend with her—a lifetime!).

He thinks of the apothecary’s rooftop garden. He had held her there, with Asra, watching the dawn until she’d been lulled to sleep in their embrace. There are other places, but it... it could be poetic, he thinks. To celebrate the year they’ve shared in the same place they spent what they thought would be her last night. Underneath the hawthorne tree, maybe. A warm blanket underneath her, to block the chill of the rooftop; candles to light the darkness, and rose petals—ah, were rose petals too much?

It matters not, a voice whispers. She will love it anyway, because it comes from me.

Once that thought would not have come with such surety. Now, the certainty brings him comfort, and curves the corners of his mouth into a wistful smile as Vesuvia breaks the horizon, a skyline against the sea.

He would plan the rest of the day, of course. But it would end with a dinner under the hawthorne tree, and he would lay her down and love her, an amendment to the promise he’d made all those years ago (I will lay you down in golden fields; we will rumple the grain as I make love to you); the sky will not be blue, but indigo, and sprinkled through with diamond-glittering stars. Their tapestry is barely woven, barely begun—he wants to add another memory to what is theirs (a thousand memories; a hundred thousand), like a weaver introduces another color and make the design all the more brilliant for it.

Vesuvia approaches; smiling (for there is a red sky at morning, and Fortuna is always smiling upon him these days), he turns and goes belowdeck, returning to her side.

*

They catch Asra the day before he’s to leave for a journey north. He’s glad to see them—dines with them and Nadia in the palace—and freely hands Julian a key to the apothecary, after Julian has pulled him aside and asked for permission to stay there.

“And where are you off to, then?” Julian asks with a sly smile, pocketing the key. “Scaling the Blood Mountain? Pub crawl from here to Prakra? You know, if you do want recommendations, my favorite one is right between Drakr and Hjallnir, it’s—”

Asra shakes his head, cutting Julian off. “Ah, no. I’m spending a week with someone in Nopal.” He half-smiles, and oh, Julian knows that look.

“Oh-ho, someone, he says,” Julian says, waggling his eyebrows dramatically. Though Asra rolls his eyes, he laughs, color rising in his cheeks.

“You don’t know her,” he replies, clasping Julian on the shoulder. “Let’s get back to dinner?”

Julian nods, letting it go, though his curiosity still has its tenterhooks buried in his chest. He would hold his tongue, for now, but the day Asra departs for Nopal Julian knows he will be on Portia’s doorstep—ah, no, Nadia would be more likely to know the truth—he will be at the palace doorstep, asking Nadia if she knows anything.

*

(It turns out Nadia keeps Asra’s secrets as well as Asra himself does—Julian gets nothing from her, other than a slight, warm smile.)

*

He is meticulous in his preparations when that joyous day comes; Aredhel spends the morning with Portia and Mazelinka, both claiming her on pretense (or convenient excuse) of completing errands that absolutely require her assistance. He uses that time to check the rooftop garden, just to make sure it isn’t dead—it isn’t—to buy fresh bread and fruit, and roses and rose petals from the florist. He also buys the ingredients for a meal Mazelinka has made for them countless times. Can’t quite remember the name of it, but Aredhel had always enjoyed it immensely.

Mazelinka is the one who comes by the shop that afternoon, to find Julian standing in Asra’s kitchen, staring helplessly at the counter, where the ingredients are arranged in a semi-circle without rhyme or reason. 

“I don’t know what her favorite meal is,” he says, staring at the ingredients. “We’ve known each other for years. She’s the love of my life. But I don’t—oh, God, I don’t know what her favorite meal is! She knows mine, why haven’t I asked—” His eyes widen and he spins around, gaping at Mazelinka. “I don’t even know her favorite color!”

“Ilya,” Mazelinka says, arching an eyebrow as she perches her hands on her hips. Ilya steps aside, sheepish, as she walks up to the counter, eyeing the ingredients with a critical eye. He watches her take a pinch of the basil he’d put in a small wooden bowl and lick it, grimacing soon afterwards. “Pah. Expired.”

She tsks, slipping a wooden spoon from an earthenware jar holding utensils as well as tithonia blooms. “Aredhel is on her way here,” she says. “You will take her out to that play you bought seats to see, and I will handle the dinner.”

Ilya’s shoulders slump. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

“Of course I know that,” Mazelinka scoffs. “But you are hopeless at cooking, and you have not spent one minute with Aredhel. I haven’t seen you since that whole business with Lucio ended—and thank Hashem you took care of that nasty Count. We’re all better off without him. This will be my treat, if you come to Shabbos dinner with me and Portia on Saturday. It’s been too long, my boy.”

“Of course,” Julian says, bending down to kiss the top of her head. “Aredhel can come?”

“Da konesho, what kind of question is that? How many Shabbos dinners has she been to? Bah. Too many to count.”

Julian grins, despite himself. “Just making sure.”

He hears the door open downstairs, and Portia and Aredhel’s voices, lost in the blur of conversation. He hurries down the stairs, nearly skipping, and looks up just long enough to see Portia is carrying a basket, and Aredhel’s hands are free —and then the space is crossed, and his hands are on her hips, lifting her up and spinning her in a circle. 

Aredhel smiles at him when he sets her down, steadying herself with a laugh.

Once he had, only half in jest, called the two of them the Hanged Man and his undead bride. Yet here, having spent the morning in the warmth of the day, she is life incarnate, cheeks tinged red (not with fever, no, only exertion from the day!) and sunlight caught in her hair. Her green dress and her flaxen hair—she is spring, summer, Flora and Pomona, and he is but a (newly) mortal man in love.

He tucks her hand into his arm. “And what angel have you brought into this home, Pasha?” he asks, grinning. He tears his gaze from Aredhel to Portia, who is carrying a basket, and springs forward, gently taking the basket into his own arms. “One moment, I’ll be back!”

He deposits the basket on Asra’s dining table. Mazelinka, already rifling through the cabinets, does naught but raise her wooden spoon in acknowledgement—and then Julian is back downstairs, tucking Aredhel’s hand into his arm once again. Portia clasps her hands together and gives him a fond, long-suffering look. He shrugs, unapologetic.

Let him shout his love from the rooftops. Let the whole world know how much he loves Aredhel Mooney.

“Ilya,” Aredhel says, laughing, “what’s the rush?”

“What’s the rush?” Julian asks, arching an eyebrow and smiling as he reaches into his coat pocket, withdrawing two tickets printed on orange paper. “Why, we have a show in half an hour, and the Countess herself has been gracious enough to loan us her box. The production was a personal recommendation of hers.”

“Oh? What’s it about?” Aredhel says. Portia, smiling, goes upstairs. Aredhel looks after her, but doesn’t move to follow her. Instead she refocuses on Ilya, and he grins at her.

“A tragedy about two lovers in fair Verona,” Julian tells her. “Sounds right up our alley.” He pauses, that old anxiety rearing its ugly, ugly head. “If you’re interested, of course. If not, why, there’s a thousand other things to do in this city, did you hear Nadia tore down the Coliseum—”

“Ilya,” Aredhel interrupts, kindly, and Julian closes his mouth, offering a sheepish smile. Aredhel smiles back and lifts herself up, kissing him hungrily enough that he ends up gripping her hips and holding her flush against him, until he remembers that Mazelinka and Pasha are upstairs and he abruptly breaks the kiss.

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat, averting his eyes and ignoring the blush suffusing his cheeks. Aredhel’s laugh is husky and rasping, and he squeezes her hand. “To the theater, then! Allons-y, chérie!”

*

It’s dark by the time they exit the theater, hand-in-hand. Julian knows he should be talking about the play, asking her what she’d thought, but all he can think of is the heat of her hand.

Which she had rested on his upper thigh for the entirety of the play.

She had done no more than that—no, no more than an occasional coy smile in his direction whenever he’d shifted, or cleared his throat, or tried to distract himself from her hand’s proximity—but it had been enough to... divert his attention from the play. He wants to hurry back to the shop, get her onto the roof where they could be alone and he could do his part to rid the rooftop of its negative memories—he could reach under her skirt, and his hands would find naught but bare skin and the promise of pleasure.

“—Ilya?”

“Ah, apologies, my dear,” Julian says, offering her a shameless smile. “I found myself too taken with your beauty—what did you say?”

Aredhel rolls her eyes, but smiles nonetheless, lifting their intertwined hands to kiss the back of his hand. His breath catches and his grin deepens. “Why, ’Red, you’re a romantic!”

“You knew that already,” she accuses, playfully.

“Ah, but the play, the play has dragged that particular secret from its hiding place,” Julian says, gesturing dramatically toward the night sky, sprinkled through with stars. Strings of lanterns between the street hang over their heads. Not a single house is marked with indigo and black drapings. Not a single one of these families—not a one!—have lost someone to the plague.

What’s a plague doctor with no plague? he’d once asked. He’d thought himself purposeless, drifting, a wreck and a lost cause of a man. How blessedly wrong he’d been—how thankful he is now to see it.

The moon is heavy and full in the sky, and Julian is invigorated, heartened, joyous. It makes him throw his head back, beaming at the night sky and the lanterns that block off globe-shaped spaces of it. “Look! The moon knows the truth! Only she, and me.”

“And will you keep this secret?” Aredhel asks, eyes glittering. She’s playing along, and that only encourages him. “Will the moon?”

“Why, the moon has her own secrets,” Julian says, “it’s why she disappears each month. She can be trusted. As for me... well.” His smile softens, and he looks down at her, pressing a hand over his heart. “I will keep your secrets. This I do swear...” he arches an eyebrow, grinning, “’til my second dying breath.”

They reach the shop, after devolving into a conversation about the play itself; Aredhel unlocks it with a fluid gesture and pulls him inside, snickering at Julian’s dramatic renditions of Mercutio’s death scene. A plague o’ both your houses!

“You did community theater, didn’t you?” she asks, closing the door behind him.

Julian smirks. “What gave it—mm—”

She kisses him, pressed hard against the door, hands already working at the buttons of his coat. He hears his breath hitch and his head thuds against the wood as he helps her rid him of his coat, leaving it to puddle on the floor around his boots. His hands roam her body, and he can’t help but picture—

Aredhel laid out on the blanket on the roof, underneath the stars. His bare hand on her bare thigh. Her face, twisted in pleasure.

His cock twitches in interest, and he groans, pulling her closer, seeking out her mouth hungrily. Aredhel is in the middle of sucking a bruise into his neck, right where he likes it (where she knows he likes it), when her stomach growls and they both stop.

“Erm,” Julian says, blushing, “right. I had something for that.”

“I hadn’t even noticed, really.” To her credit, she doesn’t look embarrassed—and truly, it is he who should be embarrassed; he had planned everything except the meal. And he had told Portia about his plan for a rooftop dinner, but had she told Mazelinka—wait, had he really told Portia, he wasn’t sure, had the dinner been waiting in the kitchen all this time?—stop.

“Well, let’s get that taken care of, anyway,” Julian says.

He leads her upstairs, and there, the hatch already open—the ladder up which he had carried her, with Asra’s help. 

Aredhel stops. When he looks back at her still, unreadable expression, he suddenly remembers what had been a vague thought at the back of his mind, utterly banished when she had placed her hand upon his thigh.

“You sit there,” he says, gesturing to a seat at the kitchen table. “I have to—I’d planned to—I wanted a dinner on the roof. Is that all right, love?”

He doesn’t like the look on her face. He doesn’t know if she’s been up on the roof since that night he’d carried her up to watch the dawn, but if she hasn’t... he can’t blame her, if she now thought of that night as a bad memory. (Though he doesn’t, not quite: this is such happiness, she’d sighed, between the two of you.

Fortuna had been kind, not stealing her away from him that night.)

But the stillness eases, and Aredhel nods, sitting in the kitchen chair and watching him with a faint, amused smile. “Go on, then,” she teases, flicking her fingertips at him. Julian kisses the top of her head and clambers upstairs.

The food—still warm, oddly enough—is set on the blanket he’d draped over the platform under the tree, which has a hole in it that he doesn’t remember from four years ago. Anchoring the blanket is a clear vase full of fresh roses, a bottle of wine, votive candles, and the bag of rose petals he’d bought specially. 

The food is still warm; he spends time carefully dishing it out, placing a plate at each side of the blanket, giving them a not-too-bad view of the rest of the city. He lights the candles and uncorks the wine, but leaves it unpoured. He sprinkles the rose petals over the blanket, feeling foolish and also giddy for indulging this whim (why, Ilya, you’re a romantic!).

When he returns to Aredhel, he has only one request for her: that she close her eyes.

This she does willingly enough, though she wobbles on the ladder. He steadies her, of course, and once she is on the rooftop and led by the hand to the platform, he tells her to open her eyes. She does, and her breath catches. 

“One year ago today,” Julian says, “I broke into your shop and you threw a bottle of petrified leeches at me, which, strangely enough, was probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” His debonair grin fades and he looks down, swallowing as he feels his cheeks heat. “I wanted... I wanted to show you, erm, how. How important you are to me. How grateful I am that we got a second chance.”

Aredhel’s eyes are wet. Julian sits, reaching out for her, and instead of sitting beside him she straddles him. “In more ways than one,” she says, thumb brushing the apple of his throat. Julian swallows, and he feels her thumb press against his skin.

“In more ways than one,” he agrees.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she says, fiercely, eyes bright in the darkness. The hand on his throat curves around, fingers tangling in his hair, and before he can stutter out a reply she’s kissing him, somehow hungrier than before. Her weight rocks forward, and he leans back on his elbow, one hand curving around her waist to cup the swell of her ass, helping her rock slowly against him as he moans into her mouth.

“Ah,” he rasps, when they break apart, “’Red, don’t you want—”

“You,” she interrupts, and oh, his mouth dries at that gleam in her eyes. He nods, glancing behind him once to look at the blanket behind him. He pushes the plate of food away and sweeps his hand out, at the same time the wind turns the flame toward his sleeve—

“Oh, fuck—”

He panics, slightly, flapping his arm in an effort to put out the flame that’s caught on his shirt. Behind him, Aredhel is laughing, and the flame jumps from his shirtsleeve to the blanket. Julian manages to put out the fire, but not before it eats the laced cuff of his shirt and a few holes in the blanket, as well as a single rose petal.

“Well,” Julian says, “that could’ve gone better.”

Aredhel’s still laughing.

His nostrils sting with smoke from a recently extinguished flame, and Julian blows out the nearest votive candle, setting it aside before looking at Aredhel. She takes his arm, exposing the pink burn on his skin, the pain of which hasn’t quite sunken in yet for all that he can smell his singed hairs. 

With her kiss, she heals him.

(Quite fitting, really.)

“You don’t have your mark anymore,” she says, gently scolding though her eyes glitter with mirth. “You have to be more careful, Ilya.”

Ilya grins, arching an eyebrow. “Do I? Whyever would I do that when I have you to take care of me, my dear?”

Her eyes narrow, playfully. Shaking her head, she kisses him again and lays him down, and there is no one to witness their lovemaking under the stars—none except themselves, and the moon.

[openmouthwideeye]

Rosvolio or Jake x Amy for the OTP meme please!

I went with canon!Rosvolio, because Jake x Amy are my happy brainless ship, & I’d have no clue for half of them.

Who is the most affectionate? Benvolio

Big spoon/Little spoon? Benvolio is usually the big spoon, but Rosaline big spoons if he’s had a rough day or she’s feeling particularly handsy

Most common argument? Escalus. Benvolio gets frustrated re: her practical approach to staying friendly with him, & Rosaline has trouble understanding why Benvolio isn’t secure enough in their relationship to stand up for himself. But twist! It’s actually a cover argument for the real issue of how they deal with abusive relatives

Favorite non-sexual activity? When they can escape their duties, they go horseback riding outside the city. They stop for picnics and Rosaline reads while Benvolio sketches. One afternoon she taught him needlepoint (he likes it better than she does) and he taught her the basics of fighting with a sword/dagger (she has more grit than finesse, but she holds her own)

Who is most likely to carry the other? Rosaline helps him to bed on the rare occasions he overindulges, complaining all the while. Ben likes to carry her, but she only indulges him in the bedroom

What is their favorite feature of their partner’s? He loves her eyes and that little affectionate smile when she lets herself just be. She loves sneaking glances at his ass but would die before admitting it. When he teases her about it, she insists there’s nothing she likes about him at all

What’s the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other? When someone challenges one of them, they’re challenging both of them. They always present a united front

Nicknames? & if so, how did they originate? They tease each other in public with overly saccharine nicknames, but when they’re alone, it’s always real names. Benvolio calls her “Rose” when his emotions get the best of him (this is true for both tender moments and angry ones), but Rosaline always calls him “Benvolio,” knowing how often he feels unworthy & wanting him to associate his name w/feelings of love

Who worries the most? Rosaline. Benvolio takes the stance that worrying only makes you suffer twice

Who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant? Both. She makes sure the kitchens make his favorite meals, and he remembers details like when she prefers certain wines & what faces she makes at certain flavors

Who tops? Benvolio to start, but Rosaline usually ends up on top

Who initiates kisses? She does at first because he’s v. conscious about making sure his advances are wanted. Once they establish a rhythm it’s usually Ben

Who reaches for the other’s hand first? Benvolio to show affection, Rosaline to show support

Who kisses the hardest? Benvolio. Rosaline prefers to explore

Who wakes up first? Rosaline

Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer? Benvolio. If he wakes up and she’s still there, he’ll wrap her in his arms & try to convince her to stay. But most of the time she’s already up, which makes lying abed less enticing

Who says I love you first? Benvolio. Rose is forthright with her feelings (“I trust you”) but Ben’s the one who drops the first actual ILY

Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it usually say?) Rosaline. They’re usually practical (don’t forget you promised to do XYZ), but they both know it’s her way of reminding him she cares. When she’s feeling impish, she’ll write him a terrible sonnet

Who tells their family/friends about their relationship first? Livia figures it out before Rosaline faces up to her feelings. She assumes Isabella knows, but she’s focused on running Verona & they have a v. awk convo. Ben tells his uncle in a fit of pique, but Rosaline wants to avoid her meddling family as long as possible, so Capulets Sr. don’t find out until she’s all, “Of course the wedding is still on!”

What do their family/friends think of their relationship? Isabella is wary & pretty outspoken about it, considering Rosaline’s vehement objections to the match & Benvolio’s reputation as a murderer/kidnapper. Once Rose wins her over, she’s pleasantly surprised by the genuine respect they have for each other. Livia is outwardly thrilled and quite smug. She takes every chance to tease her sister about husbands and nunneries, but keeps a close eye on Benvolio & worries more than she would have pre-Paris. Damiano uses their happiness to assuage his guilt & justify his actions, and it never crosses Silvestro or Giuliana’s mind to care that they’re happy (but they do, on occasion, try to use it to their advantage)

Who is more likely to start dancing with the other? Benvolio. He loves any excuse to touch her in public, & when they’re alone he likes to teach her tavern dances. He loves how exhilarated she gets, even if she refuses to partake in them in public

Who cooks more/who is better at cooking? Neither. Rosaline can, but she doesn’t enjoy it. Benvolio knows how to make soup and nothing else b/c he hovers over the cooks when someone he loves is ill.

Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines? Benvolio. They’re usually OTT on purpose, but sometimes he’ll say something absolutely ridiculous in earnest and Rosaline is just like, “Benvolio.”

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear during inappropriate times? Benvolio, but Rosaline gets her revenge

Who needs more assurance? Benvolio needs verbal affirmation (seeing Rosaline stand up for him mends a million broken things inside of him). Rosaline is more action-oriented. She gets assurance through the daily ways he looks out for her & spoils her (but she likes to hear it too)

What would be their theme song? I’m gonna jump out of the middle ages to say Certain Things by James Arthur

Who would sing to their child back to sleep? Rosaline sings their children to sleep, but if one wakes up in the middle of the night, Benvolio makes it to the nursery before the Nurse

What do they do when they’re away from each other? Rosaline keeps busy running the household, visiting Livia & Isabella, reading, & visiting the church to give alms. Benvolio distracts himself w/business, swordplay, and studying art techniques, but unless he’s buried in an art project, he’s annoyingly aware of every hour she’s gone

one headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart They usually resolve disagreements early on, but when they fight, it hurts. Rosaline has a finely-tuned fight or flight instinct—she needs time to process her feelings, but when her temper flares, she wants to hash it out Right TF Now. Benvolio tends to wallow/avoid, and when he can’t, he straight up bares his soul, then gets hurt because she can’t deal with All the Emotions. Their conflicts are fraught because they fight on different levels & they’re still learning to navigate that

one headcanon about this OTP that mends it Neither can sleep if they’re fighting. Rosaline tosses & turns or bustles around the house doing meaningless tasks to avoid going to bed. Benvolio disappears into his studio or goes to a tavern and gets hammered. When they finally face each other, they’re both desperate to resolve things followed by makeup sex/snuggles, of course

[cto10121]

Vérone - movie version

Because this is my blog and if i want to air out my headcanon!RetJ movie, by God, I’ve a right to. Feel free to skip.

N.B: For the purposes of this post and my weirdly exact imagination, this movie!RetJ will be an English adaptation. I know, I know. Take a deep breath and think best-case-scenario-under-the-BEST-circumstances. Think young!Stephen Sondheim doing the lyrics. Think whatever you need to think in order for this to make sense and/or be in the slightest way palatable. Okay. Roll film. 

FADE IN: 

So. It’s the Overture. Voiceover Narrator Guy gives it as the shadows of pre-dawn Verona come into view. Introducing Death dancing, as she does, eerie and graceful and beautiful because this is Hollywood/RetJ and everyone in this thing is hot as a general Rule. Maybe there is some nice animation that summarizes the events of the musical neatly. Either way, the Overture ends, and Death for once is still. She is expressive even in her stillness, cold and unearthly.

Then she gestures to her left. It’s the Montagues, all in blue, randomly appear in formation. She gestures to her right. It’s the Capulets, all in red, also randomly appearing in formation. She is complete control of them. They face each other, and then fight. 

Fight ballet, Redha-inspired, with lots of sharp movements and whirling bodies, scraping the ground, leaping in the air. More realistic fighting choreography than WSS, but still balletic. Let’s not inflict actual damage here, this is mostly symbolic. The feeling given is frenetic, intense. You catch glimpses of Tybalt and his male posse, Mercutio and Benvolio with theirs. The main male fighters are Sampson and Gregory on the Capulet side, Abram and Balthazar on the Montague one.   

At the climax the dancers, all Montague and Capulet youths, make way for Mercutio’s and Tybalt’s macho face-off, circling them. Mercutio taunts a coiled Tybalt while Benvolio tries to restrain Mercutio. Knives are out. 

But of course, the music changes, and so everything changes. Strings hold a fermatta in the air. Everyone knows what’s up. A lookout finally calls out: 

“The Prince!”

Staccatto strings on the bass clef. The French horn playing a chord variation of the melody. At the sound of it, your blood starts to pounding like African drums. “Yes,” you breathe, although it sounds more like “yaaas.” You know what’s going down. It’s the Prince of Verona, who has arrived with his guards, Veronian flag carriers, two royal family members, Paris and Valentine - pretty much the whole train. Death is not intimidated, but even she does something suspiciously like a flourish. She is the one who changes the Montague and Capulets’ youth’s direction. 

This Prince in question is more original French than Revival one, so think cold!badass rather than street rapper!badass. This Prince is one golden tower of barely restrained power, but it still shows, of course. It’s in the way he raps out the first verse and everyone instantly bows down to him. He enters, in my imagination, either on the balcony (not THAT one yet, but still, it’s ~suggestive) of a palatial capitol building or on the utmost step of the square’s dais. Either way, he’s on high. He looks down at these quarreling youths, who join him in a chorus.

They sing about their divided city, Verona. Their houses. Their blood and their honor, which they strive to defend at all cost. These two houses have been enemies for centuries and now their noble youth is repeating the same mistakes as their elders. Each side believes God is on their side, have been since Day 1. Each one knows they are in the right. Hence, the division. Hence, this (dare we say it...) polarization. Hence, Death.

The Prince, for his part, is cynical about this ancient quarrel, and has little hope in solving the problem permanently. All he thinks to do is curb its excesses, flex a bit of strong arm. What concerns him the most is keeping him and his family in power. In a way, he feels the exact same way as the youths themselves: This is Verona. We are Verona. It is what it is. 

He motions for the guards to quietly surround the youths, make sure there is no further trouble. During the song, there are some signs of renewed violence as they get overly excited, mostly on Sampson and Gregory and Abram and Balthazar’s part. They are reined in by said guards. 

At the key change, expect the heads of houses to arrive. First the Capulets, Lord Capulet, looking nicely parochial, and Lady Capulet flaky and fashionable in glittery burgundy, with a female servants for LC - maybe even the Nurse and the Mute girl, her servant. These servants will be distinguished by their uniform clothing, compared to the individualized ones for the M&C youths. The Poet is a servant/factotum of Lord Capulet, and accompanies him here. 

On the Montague side, Lady Montague arrives with her servant/lover in tow, a fierce, badass widow ready to take on the dysfunctional Capulet couple. She is ready. Come at her, bro. She faces off with Lord Capulet. 

“We are Verona,” ends the Prince. If this weren’t sung, we'd obviously hear the irony in that statement. 

So everyone of (immediate dramatic) importance in Verona is now gathered here, in this square. The architecture is half-Renaissance, half-modern, a sleek anachronism that works wonders. Where the hell is this set? Anywhere where people feud and fall in love, that’s where. 

The Prince descends closer to his citizenry, towards the glaring head of houses. The citizenry fall into predictable social scripts, one non-anachronism this film will allow. The servants on both sides kneel, touching their foreheads to the ground. The M&C female youths go down on one knee, the males bowing at the waist. The guards are erect, stiffly so. The heads of houses either bow slightly or do not do anything. Death raises her head haughtily. She is her own queen and she knows it. 

The Prince lets out his freak side at last and begins his rant. He is through, he says, with their fighting. He calls out Tybalt and Mercutio by name, ouch. Tybalt bows like the obedient if fucked up little soldier he is, but Mercutio? Mercutio of Escalus? He doesn’t give a fuck. 

His uncle is long-suffering. Mercutio can make even the most cold-stone badasses temporarily look like they’re in The Office. Mercutio sarcastically gives a bow. The Head P finally delivers his ultimatum: No more fighting or your ass is cooked. Except somewhat fancier. It isn’t iambic pentameter or anything, but it’s still fancier. The Prince also calls on Lord Capulet to meet him to hash out this truce agreement, with Lady Montague following later. Naturally. She has to sing with Lady Capulet first. 

He leaves with his train. The M&C youths do not leave, though. They still itch to fight. Perhaps it is Death, still doing her thing. Their movements become sinuous, less frenetic, but still deadly. Their fight-dancing has the touch of the tango to it. They are split now into M/C male and female couples. Let’s not kid ourselves here: There is an erotic component to this violence, and how it looks, well, rather intimate at turns. A Montague male extends a hand to a Capulet female, taking her hand - amatory? conciliatory? - and then thrusting her violently away. The opposite, too, occurs: A Capulet male goes down, but the Montague female gives him something kin to a caress.

This city is a treacherous one in many ways. The boundaries, however clear they appear on the outside, are not so clear when looked at more closely. Perhaps there is still a chance for this hate to turn into love (see what I did there?). But Lady Montague and Lady Capulet are not aware of this component to the feud, and what it implies. All they can see is hate. 

[lauramalchowblog]

9 Healthcare Companies Who Changed the 2010s

By ANDY MYCHKOVSKY

In order to celebrate the next decade (although the internet is confused whether its actually the end of the decade…), we’re taking a step back and listing our picks for the 9 most influential healthcare companies of the 2010s. If your company is left off, there’s always next decade… But honestly, we tried our best to compile a unique listing that spanned the gamut of redefining healthcare for a variety of good and bad reasons. Bon appétit!

1. Epic Systems Corporation

The center of the U.S. electronic medical record (EMR) universe resides in Verona, Wisconsin. Population of 13,166. The privately held company created by Judith “Judy” Faulkner in 1979 holds 28% of the 5,447 total hospital market in America. Drill down into hospitals with over 500-beds and Epic reigns supreme with 58% share. Thanks to the Office of the National Coordinator for Health Information Technology (ONC) and movement away from paper records (Meaningful Use), Epic has amassed annualized revenue of $2.7 billion. That was enough to hire the architects of Disneyland to design their Google-like Midwestern campus. The other amazing fact is that Epic has grown an average of 14% per year, despite never raising venture capital or using M&A to acquire smaller companies.

Over the years, Epic has been criticized for being expensive, non-interoperable with other EMR vendors, and the partial cause for physician burnout. Expensive is probably an understatement. For example, Partners HealthCare (to be renamed Mass General Brigham) alone spent $1.2 billion to install Epic, which included hiring 600 employees and consultants just to build and implement the system and onboard staff. With many across healthcare calling for medical record portability that actually works (unlike health information exchanges), you best believe America’s 3rd richest woman will have ideas how the country moves forward with digital medical records.

My very first interview out of undergrad was for a position at Epic. I chose a different path, but have always respected and followed the growth of the company over the past decade. In a world where medical data seems like tomorrow’s oil, a number of articles have speculated whether Apple or Alphabet would ever acquire Epic? I don’t buy it. I’m thinking it’s much more likely that 2020 is the first year they acquire a company. How you doing Athenahealth?

2. Theranos

No one can argue Theranos didn’t change the game in healthcare forever… for the worse. I do my best to give all healthcare founders the benefit of a doubt, but Elizabeth Holmes and Ramesh Balwani make that nearly impossible. Turns out that an all-star cast of geopolitical juggernauts on your Board of Directors and the black turtleneck of Steve Jobs is not the recipe for success. Founded by 19-year Elizabeth Holmes, Theranos raised over $700 million at a peak valuation of $9 billion. In retrospect, they have become the poster-child for Silicon Valley’s over-promise and under-deliver mantra. The only problem is that instead of food delivery, their failures resulted in invalid blood testing that could’ve really hurt people.

Despite this failure, the mission and purpose would’ve been tremendously impressive. Cheaper blood tests that require only 1/100 to 1/1,000 the amount of blood that LabCorp or Quest Diagnostics needed. I think the craziest part of the whole saga was that seemingly sophisticated healthcare leaders thirsted for the new technology to beat competitors and improve patient convenience. Before the technology was proved defunct, Theranos convinced Safeway to invest $350 million to retrofit 800 locations with clinics that would offer in-store blood tests. Theranos convinced Walgreens to invest $140 million to develop a partnership that would help beat CVS. Theranos partnered with Cleveland Clinic to test its technology and was working with AmeriHealth Caritas and Capital BlueCross to become their preferred lab provider.

To be clear, they weren’t the first, and won’t be the last healthcare company to fail. I only hope that this extremely well documented (thanks Hollywood) experience has re-focused founders and investors towards building sustainable growth companies that actually help patients live higher quality lives, not just make people money as quickly as possible.

3. One Medical

Thanks to Tom Lee and the One Medical crew, primary care is now investable. Whether you’re talking about private equity or venture capitalists, many have dived head first into the space in search of value-based care treasure. One Medical is the most well-known tech-enabled primary care practice, with 72 clinic locations across seven states, and new locations opening in Portland, Orange County, and Atlanta. The Carlyle Group liked the company so much that it invested $350 million in August 2018, at a reported $1.5 billion valuation. This has led to a number of primary care focused companies (ChenMed, Iora Health, Forward) to amass significant valuations that historically would’ve seemed optimistic. However, the elevation of the primary care provider from the “punter” to the “quarterback” of a patient’s medical journey has lifted all boats.

Interestingly, One Medical has unique differentiators over the traditional primary care competitors. For example, One Medical limits doctors to seeing 16 patients a day, versus the average physician seeing 20-30 patients a day. One Medical also built its own medical records in hopes of a more user friendly experience, instead of outsourcing to practice-based EMRs. One Medical charges $199 annually to each patient to help make up for lower volume, and in return provides same-day appointments, onsite lab draws, and a slick app that allows online appointment scheduling and telehealth consults with providers 24/7. They are also adding capabilities and services to cover mental health and pediatric services to increase revenue.

This change is remarkable. Historically, primary care has been a low-margin business with high administrative and staffing costs, along with physician burnout and regulatory burden. One Medical pioneered the concept of a more modern primary care experience, and I am looking forward to their initial public offering (IPO) targeted for early 2020 and whatever Tom Lee is cooking up at Galileo.

4. Centene

Centene is my favorite health plan to study over the past decade. You would never know that the second largest publicly-traded company headquartered in Missouri was originally started by Elizabeth “Betty” Brinn in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Under-hyped, which is rare in healthcare nowadays, Centene has quietly grown to become the largest player in both the Medicaid managed care and Affordable Care Act (ACA) exchanges. Under Michael Neidorff’s leadership, Centene now serves 32 states with over 15 million lives and 53,600 employees. They were most recently ranked #51 on the Fortune 500 list. In addition, they are about to grow with the $17.3 billion acquisition of WellCare. Here’s a brief rundown of some major events that demonstrate why I’m so bullish on Centene dominating another decade:

April 2018: WellCare and Centene awarded Medicaid managed care contracts in Florida.

July 2018: Centene acquires Fidelis Care and their 1.6 million New Yorkers for $3.75 billion. This single-handedly gives Centene the leading Medicaid share in the state.

September 2018: WellCare acquires Meridian Health Plan and their 1.1 million lives in Michigan, Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio, for $2.5 billion.

February 2019: Centene and WellCare awarded Medicaid managed care contracts in North Carolina.

December 2019: WellCare awarded Medicaid managed care contract in WellCare (re-procurement underway)

In addition, Texas Medicaid is set to award their STAR contracts for 3.4 million lives between Medicaid and CHIP, of which Centene already won a contract to serve the STAR+PLUS (aged, blind, and disabled population). Seems like a pretty solid guess that Centene will fair pretty well in the STAR RFP rankings. Next decade, I look for Centene to significantly increase their efforts to recruit Medicare Advantage (MA) lives, and I wouldn’t bet against them.

5. Mylan

One word. EpiPen. Mylan, the $10 billion market cap pharmaceutical manufacturer and producer of the epinephrine auto-injector product, EpiPen, became the lightning rod in a consumer and political drug pricing debate in 2016. For those who were living under a rock, here’s the quick recap. Epinephrine auto-injectors are used to treat anaphylaxis (severe allergic reaction). Prior to 2016, Mylan held absolute dominant share of the auto-injector market, hovering around 90% for the first half of the 2010s. The only real competitor was Adrenaclick, produced by Lineage Therapeutics, but they were barely considered a competitor despite having cheaper prices. In 2016, news outlets caught wind of Mylan’s 500% list price increase over a decade ($100 to $600) and a nationwide discussion about drug prices began.

If you asked the Mylan CEO, Heather Bresch, she would tell you that the reason brand EpiPen’s list price increased 500 percent over 7 years is because they invested billions of dollars to significantly increase access in schools and employers across America. These efforts increased the number of EpiPen prescriptions in the U.S. from 2.5 million to more than 3.5 million between 2011 and 2015. She would also tell you that there is a big difference between wholesale acquisition cost price (list price) and net price. This part is often misunderstood by media. The net price takes into account discounts, prescription savings cards, and rebates that Mylan provides to purchasers (PBMs, Employers, Plans). The exact negotiated rebate or discount is different by line of business and organization. However, safe to say that Mylan made a good amount of profit with increasing volume.

At the end of the day, Mylan settled with the U.S. Justice Department for $465 million over claims it overcharged the government. Mylan kept their $600 list price brand EpiPen product with rebates, and added a generic version of EpiPen for $300 list price without rebates and requiring commercial insurance. According to a GoodRx analysis in 2018, the epinephrine auto-injector market now looks much different, with 60% of the market moving to the generic version of EpiPen, 10% of the market remaining with brand EpiPen, and 30% of the market switching to the generic version of Adrenaclick. However, whether generic or brand EpiPen, Mylan makes strong profits and American will continue to discuss the best strategy forward to control drug spend.

6. Evolent Health

First let me caveat. I’ve worked for Evolent Health for the past 5 years and seen it grow from a Series B startup to a publicly-traded company (NSYE: EVH). However, the reason they’re on this list is because Evolent Health has forever changed the game for future value-based care startups. When Frank Williams, Seth Blackley, and Tom Peterson founded the company in 2011 with the help of UPMC Health Plan and The Advisory Board Company, concepts like the Medicare Shared Savings Program (MSSP) did not even exist. Fast forward a decade later, and Evolent Health now serves approximately 3.7 million lives across 35 different U.S. healthcare markets. The mission of Evolent Health is to, “Change the health of a nation, by changing the way healthcare is delivered.” To do this, you need both the technology, clinical, financial, and operational capacity to empower providers to confidently move away from fee-for-service towards fee-for-value.

With the implementation of MACRA and the continued perseverance of CMS under this new administration, value-based care is still full steam ahead (good luck incoming CMMI Director, Brad Smith). Despite the naysayers of value-based care, find me a better way to control medical inflation that is accepted by nearly all healthcare institutions and doesn’t negatively impact patient outcomes, and we can talk. I will mention the importance of “significant” downside risk to actually change provider culture, strategy, and operations. I don’t want the primary purpose of setting up a clinically integrated network (CIN) to be negotiating higher fee-for-service commercial rates for independent physicians aligned to tertiatiary academic medical centers.

I wholeheartedly believe that providers will continue to seek partner options (not vendors with high fees independent of performance) who are not wholly-owned by the large for-profit health plans (Optum…). Of all the available options, Evolent Health is the market leader across a variety of areas. In 2020, I look forward to watching how the 3,000+ Evolenteers push the boundaries of downside risk value-based care with both payers and providers.

7. Livongo

To me, Livongo represents Daenerys Targaryen in Game of Thrones. Not the blood-thirsty character towards the end, but the only person to bring back dragons to the world of Westeros. Except in this example, the dragon is a successful digital health IPO. This was a big deal. Going public rewarded early investors who believed in the nascent digital health and chronic condition space. It allowed public investors an opportunity to peak under the hood of the financials and get comfortable with future economics of the industry. And it provided a legitimacy and a peer valuation to other leading digital health companies like Omada Health. All-in-all, 207,000 members use Livongo for Diabetes management solutions, including a connected glucose monitor, unlimited test strips, and personalized health coaching. This number is expected to grow significantly, with the announcement of a new, two-year diabetes contract with the BlueCross BlueShield Federal Employee Program (FEP). They anticipate the partnership will add an additional $50-60 million in revenue across 2020 and 2021

Livongo has done a brilliant job marketing itself as building a full-stop solution for the 147 million Americans with a chronic condition. According to their estimates, their immediately addressable markets for managing diabetes and hypertension represents a $46.7 billion opportunity. Digging into the unit economics, Livongo estimates that diabetes is worth $900 per patient per year and $468 per patient per year. Since they’re focused on chronic conditions, the business model is subscription-based. In the Q3 quarterly report, Livongo provided full year guidance of $168.5 million on the low end and $169 million on the high end. In either scenario, FY2019 Adjusted EBITDA is projected to lose around $26 million for the year.

Livongo has smartly started with addressing diabetes, given the downstream health impacts of mismanagement of blood sugar and the ability to impact spend with regular insulin, diet, and exercise. They also are very smart to efficiently sell into self-funded large employers using existing channel partners like Express Scripts, CVS, Health Care Services Corporation (HCSC), Anthem, and Highmark BCBS. I know that the stock is down 35% since IPO, but I fundamentally believe chronic conditions are not going away and over time, Livongo will add supplementary clinical programs to expand revenue growth.

8. Optum

UnitedHealth Group is the single largest healthcare company in the world with a $280 billion market cap. It owns UnitedHealthcare, the country’s largest private insurer serving Medicare Advantage, managed Medicaid, employer-sponsored insurance, and ACA exchanges. And yet in 2020, more than 50% of the company’s earning and $112 billion in revenue will come from the lesser known side of the business, Optum. It is difficult to describe Optum because they do so much, but they technically split their business into three units: OptumHealth, OptumInsight and Optum Rx. OptumHealth provides care delivery (primary, specialty, urgent care) and care management to address chronic, complex, and behavioral health needs. OptumInsight utilizes data, analytics, and clinical information to support software, consulting, and managed services programs. OptumRx is a pharmacy benefit management (PBM) to create a more streamlined pharmacy system. In total Optum estimates the U.S. addressable market for its services to exceed $850 billion. If that wasn’t enough, here’s some fun facts why they made the list:

Works with 9 out of 10 U.S. hospitals, more than 67,000 pharmacies, and more than 100,000 physicians, practices, and other providers.

Added 10,000 physicians in the past year, growing its network to 46,000 physicians.

Includes 180,000 team members and serves 120 million customers.

Serves 80% of health plans to reduce total cost of care.

Works with 9 out of 10 Fortune 100 companies.

Pretty remarkable for a business unit that was only technically created in 2011, by merging existing pharmacy and care deliver services into one brand. As chronic disease increases and value-based care is here to stay, Optum is focused on comprehensively treating patients and coordinating their care to improve quality and lower costs. With UnitedHealthcare under the corporate umbrella, Optum has the adequate scale to test any new clinical initiatives before rolling out to other health plans.

9. Purdue Pharma

Purdue Pharma is a privately owned drug company owned by the Sackler Family and most well known for creating OxyContin in 1996. OxyContin represents 90% of Purdue Pharma’s revenue and was aggressively marketed to doctors for use in patients with chronic pain. According to court records, Purdue Pharma has grossed an estimated $35 billion. This is the same prescription painkiller that many experts say fueled the U.S. opioid crisis that has resulted in more than 130 deaths each day after overdosing on opioids. To be clear, the deaths are caused by prescription pain relievers, heroin, and synthetic opioids (fentanyl), however, the initial addiction to opioids is often caused by OxyContin and other prescription drugs. All but two U.S. states and 2,000 local governments have taken legal action against Purdue, other drug makers and distributors.

The Sackler family is the 19th richest family and is well known for supporting the fine arts, including the Sackler Wing at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City where the Ancient Egyptian Temple of Dendur sits. I’ve seen a number of articles persecuting the entire Sackler family, but I want to be a little more nuanced. In 1952, three Sackler brothers (Arthur, Raymond, and Mortimer) bought a drug company called Purdue Frederick. Arthur’s branch of the family got out of the company after his death in 1987. The Raymond and Mortimer branches of Sacklers, who own it, founded affiliate Purdue Pharma in the early 1990s. According to a 2017 article from The New Yorker, there are 15 Sackler children in the generation following the founders of Purdue. Some family members have served on the Board of Directors, while others (most notably descendants from Arthur Sackler who died before OxyContin was invented), have distanced themselves from the company and condemned the OxyContin-based wealth.

Purdue Pharma filed for bankruptcy in September 2019 as part of a tentative settlement related to misleading marketing of the controversial painkiller. The settlement requires the owners of Purdue Pharma and the Sackler family to pay out $3 billion of their own fortune in cash over the next seven years. The only problem is that some family members have reportedly moved $10.7 billion from Purdue Pharma to trusts and holding companies across the world between 2008 and 2017. And all we’re left with is a complicated web of holding companies and offshore bank accounts, ravaged communities, and the leading cause of injury-related death in the U.S.

Andy Mychkovsky is a Director at Evolent Health and the Founder of a healthcare startup and innovation blog, Healthcare Pizza. This post originally appeared on Healthcare Pizza here.

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