xbestbrotherx

[xbestbrotherx]

TM (xBestBrotherx

A truer soul my battered, yet sharp spirit didn’t always deserve. What a fully fledged man he would have made.

[xbestbrotherx]

Riccardo was attentive to Amadeo’s immediate physical needs for cleanliness of course but also he had worried that Marius had upset him and wanted to try and sooth his spirits and lighten his mood lest he go to bed angry.

Ric settled in to bed with Amadeo, gently looping an arm over his shoulders and drawing the blanket up over their heads so they might speak in relative confidence even if the giggling had woken any of the others.

“Such a life you lead out there, Amadeo... and no, I don’t suppose it would vex the Master any less if it had been a woman - though perhaps only vexed him in a different way. As for letting them lay hands on you, I meant... well I meant they might not have delivered all they promised you with their wooing, so I am glad you were not disappointed on that account.”

Riccardo pressed close, pressing a tender kiss to Amadeo’s forehead while his top arm came up to gently stroke his brother’s hair. It was difficult to imagine his little brother out there, charming men in to bed, or letting others lure him to theirs. Here he seemed so sweet - if sharp-tongued. Had anyone else been sneaking out he had no doubt Marius would have put an immediate stop to it and sometimes he wondered why he allowed Amadeo these freedoms at all if it was only going to rouse his jealousies in their many forms.

“I love you, Amadeo, I am glad you had a pleasant evening... and I am more glad that you have returned safely.” He might have chastised Amadeo, too, as someone who fell under his watch, these were behaviors that were ill advised but he followed the Master’s lead in not actively stopping him from pursuing them. Finally though he whispered, “Tomorrow... will you stay? Stay and fence with me, stay and read to the boys with me in the evening - we can act out the stories for them like we used to... please.”

http://mariusistotallyhip.tumblr.com/post/173814813593 {Starter begins}

http://mariusistotallyhip.tumblr.com/post/176422247503/the-tolling-of-the-bells {last reply mariusistotallyhip}

Riccardo was indeed lying awake in his bed, his room shared with only two other older boys who were also in their own beds, not that sometimes the extra space wasn’t needed on bad weather nights when younger brothers were looking for comfort and company.

Riccardo sat up on his side, propped against his hand as he squinted to see Amadeo - to see if he was hurt as Marius approached his bed, the light from the hall back-lighting Marius and making the details difficult to see. As Marius got close he stood, reaching a hand out to rest on Amadeo’s knee though he turned his gaze up to Marius who only answered with a reassuring suggestion that Ric should get a nightgown for Amadeo as well.

Riccardo was quick enough over to the basket of nightgowns where he paused, freezing for a long moment in silence, just holding a night gown in his hands before turning back to his bed, finding Amadeo left like a present there. Riccardo set the night shirt down beside his brother before bringing his hands up to smooth the curls gently from Amadeo’s face with a whisper, “Did he hurt you?”

~~~

Amadeo was all at once bone tired and glad to retire to bed, with the simple uncomplicated company of his dearest, Riccardo. Thankful that Marius carried him up the long staircase, even though sometimes it undermined his assurance he was not quite a child anymore. Especially if not in a devil may care romantic context.

In the familiar room he could hear the steady breathing of the other boys. Heavy sleepers in a palace that was considered the safest in Venice. Marius brought him next to Riccardo. Vaguely aware of murmurs from their guardian. Now deposited on the bed he stared at his feet. The mattress was high, his legs dangling over the edge. He hadn’t realised how grubby his feet were, a contrast to the crisp clean sheets. Sacrilegious to just clamber into bed and soil it with them. Riccardos touch to his hair and face made him pay attention. Gazing up and smiling weakly.

“No. Only with words. Nothing more…I wondered though, with this mark on me.” Absently running fingers over his bruised neck. “I need to wash my feet.” He stated.

Automatically slipping the nightgown over his head, unfastening his doublet and kicking off his hose once it was past his thighs too lethargic to pull them off. The gown came to his knees, roomy but he always found the freshly laundered cotton comforting. Making to pad along to the bathroom.

[xbestbrotherx]

reblog if you're a vampire chronicles roleplayer

i want to follow everyone in the fandom

[xbestbrotherx]

Rocco continued to lead Zaire down the stairs and out to the narrow residential alley. For tourists the only sure way to get anywhere was via the boats in the canals - the large ones that served as buses with fixed routes and stops and the little ones that functioned as taxis with drivers who knew where they were going. But Rocco lead Zaire though the winding alley ways and across bridges that spanned narrow streams of water too small for boats. He hardly seemed to be paying attention to where he was going, as if he might have lead him with his eyes closed, but instead Rocco’s eyes were mostly on Zaire as they walked together.

“So how did you end up in your line of work? You certainly seem to have a skill for it... does it come naturally, or did you, uh..... apprentice?”

Rocco lead him to a small local bar, waving off hand to the bar tender as he lead Zaire to a cozy corner booth. “Do you have far to go to get home? We have a spare bunk if you’d rather stay... you might have someone waiting on you, of course...”

Picture Perfect

[xbestbrotherx]

Rocco seemed somewhat put at ease with Zaire’s reassurance that he would leave his trickery out of their business dealings and was glad to see that he didn’t seem too put out by the interruption. Rocco nodded toward the hallway and walked down it with him, though this time through the curtains he could see young men putting away their things or changing their clothes to something more comfortable. The source of the guitar music from before was coming down the stairs from the roof, guitar in hand - he looked to be around Rocco’s age, maybe even a little older. Rocco nodded toward him as they passed, “That’s Alois, he’s working on learning the guitar but you should hear him with the violin.” So it seemed at least that Rocco wasn’t single-handedly providing for those who weren’t young enough to bring in their own income.

Rocco lead Zaire down all the flights of stairs through the warehouse to the ground level again and back out onto the evening street, still considering Zaire’s offer, “In truth, I find that when I ask most people who can help are willing... the art supply store donates supplies when they can, the baker gives us some of his day old breads... and no one who knows anything about our living arrangements has mentioned anything to the authorities so all in all, people are doing what they can, at least I like to think so... I hope you don’t find it presumptuous of me to suspect that your talents could benefit us most by selling my art? I’m open to suggestions if you have other skills or resources at your disposal. It would be foolish of me to not be, after all.”

Picture Perfect

[xbestbrotherx]

Riccardo bid him to change into his night gown while he fetched him water for washing his feet and soon enough he returned with a shallow bucket of cool scented water for just that purpose, he knelt near where Riccardo’s feet dangled off the bed and dunked a clean cloth into the water, letting water drip from it into the bucket as he tenderly scrubbed Amadeo’s feet with the coarse cloth, sometimes tenderly running it over the bottom of his feet to tickle him before resuming with the scrubbing along the sides and sometimes running the cloth between his toes to tickle him again. Riccardo was always tender in both his work and play with the boys, he didn’t himself care much for rough housing, he much preferred hugs and kisses over pushing and shoving even in jest.

Soon enough though Ric was setting the bucket near the door to their room and returning to bed, holding the blankets up for Amadeo to make himself comfortable before he lowered the blankets and made himself comfortable on his side, facing his brother, whispering, “Do you have strength enough to tell me about your evening... where did you go? What... and who did you do this time? What were they like? Were they terribly handsome and clever? Or was it a woman this time? How did they woo you? Did you enjoy yourself?”

http://mariusistotallyhip.tumblr.com/post/173814813593 {Starter begins}

http://mariusistotallyhip.tumblr.com/post/176422247503/the-tolling-of-the-bells {last reply mariusistotallyhip}

Riccardo was indeed lying awake in his bed, his room shared with only two other older boys who were also in their own beds, not that sometimes the extra space wasn’t needed on bad weather nights when younger brothers were looking for comfort and company.

Riccardo sat up on his side, propped against his hand as he squinted to see Amadeo - to see if he was hurt as Marius approached his bed, the light from the hall back-lighting Marius and making the details difficult to see. As Marius got close he stood, reaching a hand out to rest on Amadeo’s knee though he turned his gaze up to Marius who only answered with a reassuring suggestion that Ric should get a nightgown for Amadeo as well.

Riccardo was quick enough over to the basket of nightgowns where he paused, freezing for a long moment in silence, just holding a night gown in his hands before turning back to his bed, finding Amadeo left like a present there. Riccardo set the night shirt down beside his brother before bringing his hands up to smooth the curls gently from Amadeo’s face with a whisper, “Did he hurt you?”

~~~

Amadeo was all at once bone tired and glad to retire to bed, with the simple uncomplicated company of his dearest, Riccardo. Thankful that Marius carried him up the long staircase, even though sometimes it undermined his assurance he was not quite a child anymore. Especially if not in a devil may care romantic context.

In the familiar room he could hear the steady breathing of the other boys. Heavy sleepers in a palace that was considered the safest in Venice. Marius brought him next to Riccardo. Vaguely aware of murmurs from their guardian. Now deposited on the bed he stared at his feet. The mattress was high, his legs dangling over the edge. He hadn’t realised how grubby his feet were, a contrast to the crisp clean sheets. Sacrilegious to just clamber into bed and soil it with them. Riccardos touch to his hair and face made him pay attention. Gazing up and smiling weakly.

“No. Only with words. Nothing more…I wondered though, with this mark on me.” Absently running fingers over his bruised neck. “I need to wash my feet.” He stated.

Automatically slipping the nightgown over his head, unfastening his doublet and kicking off his hose once it was past his thighs too lethargic to pull them off. The gown came to his knees, roomy but he always found the freshly laundered cotton comforting. Making to pad along to the bathroom.

[xbestbrotherx]

Riccardo had been so quiet when he arrived, especially around the Master, and around the teachers, though less so around Vincenzo who even though he was an authority figure he rarely acted it. No, Vincenzo didn’t shout at and scold them even when he caught them being mischievous, he acted more like a grandfather might if he and his wife had ever managed to raise children of their own - it helped of course that by and large Marius avoided bringing home boys who would pose a real danger to themselves or the others and so the trouble they made tended to be of the ‘good fun’ sort. Best of all about Vincenzo was that he was comfortable sitting in silence, not always urging the boys to talk, not always asking them questions, just sitting quietly while he polished silver or leather or repaired a chair, and Riccardo liked that.

Marius had seen for himself how Riccardo clammed up, went cold and quiet around himself the night he brought him home, and if he opted to get his reports from the older boys on Riccardo’s progress he would have a few stories over the years that helped reassure him of Riccardo’s progress without having to press the boy directly himself:

That first night Ric hadn’t talked at all, he nodded his understanding when the boys spoke to him, that he understood what they were saying, but he was overwhelmed and the older boys knew well enough that sometimes nerves made boys talk a lot, and others very little. While everyone else washed for bed Ric sat in comfortable silence with Vincenzo, eating from a plate that had been made up for him until soon enough Giuliano (who had since been sent to Padua) came to fetch him and took him back to the baths alone so that Ric could wash and dress for bed without the excited chatter of the others. 

Ric had tried to turn this way or that, to keep his arm bent across his abdomen, to hide the scars on his young body even as Giuliano tenderly scrubbed his hair with soap. Giuliano provided Ric a towel to dry himself but while he did the older boy had changed in front of him into his own night gown, making a point not to hide his own faded scars, speaking quietly even with his back to Ric that he would see tomorrow night, when he bathed with the others that he would see it was the same with the others - almost all of them bore these same kind of marks, but they became more and more faded over time, as would Ric’s.

Ric was put into bed with Albinus, who was close to his own age but had been there half a year already. Albinus was a talker and it was a strain for him not to whisper though Ric rolled himself to the edge of the bed, his back to his new brother as he slept. Though he was quiet during the day at night he began to turn to face Albinus, to move closer to the middle of the bed, and even though at first he didn’t answer when the boy asked questions he would laugh quietly at his jokes and soon enough they were sharing a pillow, whispering under the covers. This was, of course, technically forbidden, it was time to be asleep but the older boys were glad enough that Ric was talking, even at night and let it go on another week before they put a stop to their night time chats.

And when Ric did find his tongue it was clear he was sharp. He hadn’t been talking but he had been listening and he knew the name of every boy and teacher, he remembered things said in passing about what types of food or poems the boys liked.

His previous master had not been an artist, nor had his father, so mixing of paints and the stretching of canvases was entirely new to him. He started off with being charged with simple tasks, washing brushes, scrubbing old pallets and pots that had previously held paints to ensure that whatever old color had been held there wouldn’t muddy a new color. It had been a month before Ric was introduced to the process of mixing the colored pigment with the oil - he wouldn’t be tasked with this job yet, but it was good for him to understand. All great painters must know how to mix their own paints,  this is only one of many ways, we will teach you how to mix them with egg, too, but this is what the Master prefers for painting. “If our master is a great painter then why doesn’t he mix his own paints?” 

Brushes of those in the work room lowered as brows lifted, glancing over to where  Giuliano was introducing him to the process. Because their Master wanted them to know a skill - he could mix his own paints, he could stretch his own canvases, and he could throw them all back out onto the street, that was true enough, was that what Riccardo wanted? Did he prefer the work he had been tasked with at his last place? If he would prefer to scrub the floors and pull weeds from the garden he could do that instead, but how would that serve him when he left here? “...No... I’d rather learn to be a painter.... please show me again?” And with that Ric was advised that he might question their master’s practices during the day- as long as he really wanted an answer and not just to be smart - but that he’d do well not to be so smart with the Master himself.

And so it had been reported that Riccardo had found his tongue, “He has a sharp tongue, Master... but a tender heart. He has no innate skill for painting, but he works at it the same as he does learning his letters or practicing his poems, very diligently.” Indeed, a boy who worked earnestly at learning these things was worth 10 boys who had a natural talent but was too lazy to work at it.

Short as he could sometimes be he was also keenly aware of the emotions of the other boys, and worried about the fates of even the smallest creatures. When he saw a boy crush a spider under foot in their dorm he cried over it - it had been unnecessary, that spider wasn’t any harm to anyone! Just because one of the boys had been startled by it wasn’t any reason to kill it! And so when next a spider was spotted he was called over to tend to it and the boys all watched him patiently gather the spider on to to a piece of cloth and take it to the window where another boy opened the heavy glass so Ric could release the spider outside and shut the window behind it, explaining that worse than spiders were the flying insects that found their way in on hot nights when they opened the window to enjoy the breeze - they should be so lucky that a spider would build its web in their window and catch the insects before they came in.

Riccardo remained quiet in class, and at dinners when the Master was there, but when questioned he answered, and teachers and Marius would be pleasantly surprised to find that even though he didn’t volunteer to speak that when called on he was following the conversation and could answer any reasonable question put to him on the topic at hand. It was when new boys joined that he shined, he loved teaching them the skills that had been taught to him, to patiently instruct them in the mixing of paints and the stretching of canvases, to sit with them for as long as they could stand it and work on learning their letters and eventually words. And when he knew that there were others more uncomfortable speaking than himself he always chimed in, taking the bullet so to speak to spare them from being called on.

All that to say.... In the last 5 years Ric had grown considerably, both in his comfort level with the instructors as well as his physical features, he was tall and slender, his arms strong and wiry from his fencing lessons, his hair a healthy curly black that came down to his shoulders. His breath caught in his throat a little - it was a kindness that the Master so rarely called on him and allowed him to just stay one of the crowd, but he stopped in his tracks, squeezing the shoulder of the boy he had been walking with “I’ll see you at dinner...” before he turned toward Marius, straightening the top of his tunic and running his hands over the bottom half self-consciously as he headed toward the Master, lifting his own warm green eyes up to Marius’s cool blue gaze, feeling very small as he head to tilt his head back  to look up at him, “Of course, Master... Is... Is everything alright?”

Glitter and Gold

The night had been alive with the bustle of boys, aged from 8 to 18.  They had only moments ago finished their music lessons, so their energy was high.  Some of those boys had no talent for music, and so their patience was stretched thin by the time released by the tutor.  Dinner would soon be served, a meal furnished later than was customary because Marius wished to be there to question the boys on their days and their accomplishments, and to give them lessons of his own.

It brought him pleasure, and this pleasure made him forget, temporarily, the burden of his existence.  

As boys filed out, nodding and greeting their Master, the music tutor followed.  “I believe young Pietro is becoming quite proficient at his playing.  But I fear that Albinus may never show talent to his potential.  And, as always, Riccardo played perfectly.  His singing voice is excellent.”

Of course, Marius knew this, but he thanked the tutor and let his manservant show him to the door.  

Dinner would be served soon, but there he could steal a few moments beforehand.  He sought Riccardo, a simple thing for a creature that could read minds and could find Riccardo miles away merely by the sound of his breath.

When at last he found his pupil, he motioned for him to follow.  “May I have a moment?”  It was striking how the boy had grown since first he’d arrived, a child of 8 years old.  Now he was growing into a strong young man, as 13 was an age of youthful and foolish adolescence.  In just a few years, Riccardo had risen to be one of the most promising boys under his tutelage.  

[xbestbrotherx]

Reblog if I'm allowed to send you in character asks even if we have never talked before.

[xbestbrotherx]

Riccardo was indeed lying awake in his bed, his room shared with only two other older boys who were also in their own beds, not that sometimes the extra space wasn’t needed on bad weather nights when younger brothers were looking for comfort and company.

Riccardo sat up on his side, propped against his hand as he squinted to see Amadeo - to see if he was hurt as Marius approached his bed, the light from the hall back-lighting Marius and making the details difficult to see. As Marius got close he stood, reaching a hand out to rest on Amadeo’s knee though he turned his gaze up to Marius who only answered with a reassuring suggestion that Ric should get a nightgown for Amadeo as well.

Riccardo was quick enough over to the basket of nightgowns where he paused, freezing for a long moment in silence, just holding a night gown in his hands before turning back to his bed, finding Amadeo left like a present there. Riccardo set the night shirt down beside his brother before bringing his hands up to smooth the curls gently from Amadeo’s face with a whisper, “Did he hurt you?”

The Tolling of the Bells

From the bell tower in Piazza San Marco the vesper (6pm) bells rang, signaling for the tutors to wrap up their lessons - half the boys learning to read as they studied printed copies of the poems that the older boys were taking turns reciting from memory. There were 15 boys in all, but in the class just 14 this evening - a certain redhead was noticeably absent from the lesson - indeed, he’d missed every lesson since lunch, as seemed to happen more and more these days whenever the Master was expected to be away, as he was this evening.

Who could blame him for wanting to explore the narrow streets with the strong breeze off the ocean, cooling the stockyard where the ships were built by day, it was quite the sight to see. Riccardo had introduced him to the shipyard, something they could sit and watch together even when they didn’t have the shared language to make conversation beyond a few short phrases of practiced pleasantries, But Riccardo rarely came with him these days - he had an example to set for the others, he couldn’t just skip lectures with the same abandon. But Riccardo was always there, awake, and ready to open the door for him when he returned.

And so Amadeo might have expected it to go tonight. But little did he know that while he let himself get lost in the evening streets of Venice - taking in the sights, the sounds, and the pleasures the city had to offer, the Master had returned unexpectedly to join the boys at the long wooden table as they ate. There was conversation, discussion of their lessons, talk of the theatre and shows they would like to see if the Master would give them leave to do so. All through dinner Riccardo’s eyes continued to stray to the front door, hoping Amadeo would return only a little late… but it wasn’t to be.

The sound of splashing and happy chatter as the boys readied for bed was a stark contrast to the somber conversation Marius and Riccardo had in the hallway that night. The Master asking about Amadeo’s whereabouts and Riccardo doing his best to answer honestly without incriminating his good friend. No matter what came out of Riccardo’s mouth though, Marius got the thruth from his anxious thoughts. 

Marius distracted himself with seeing the boys to their beds, lingering at each bed to give the two or three boys there a chance to say what they would - and also to gleam from their thoughts what came to mind that they didn’t dare say.

By the time the compline (9pm) bells rang the boys were asleep - except Riccardo, who sat anxiously next to the window, his chin resting on his arms against the window sill as he watched for any sign of the returning Amadeo.

No one would know it but but, anxious for Amadeo’s safety Marius had left the house for about an hour, searching Amadeo out… and indeed,  he found his apprentice, though when he found him intoxicated and -ahem- occupied, he had opted simply to return home and wait, to see exactly when his cherub would return of his own accord.

And so, when the Matins (midnight) bells rang, Marius was sitting in the dark at the long wooden table, he was in his high-backed chair, a plate of food sitting on the table in front of the bench to his right.

Riccardo’s vantage point allowed him to see a lon gways down the allies below, and he was so adedpt at spotting Amadeo’s inebriated gaite in the torchlight that he saw him coming even before Marius sensed him. Riccardo’s bare feet carried him quickly down the stairs to the front door, he was almost there when he heard Marius speak. “What are you doing, Riccardo?” The question was serious, though the tone was slightly amused. 

Riccardo turned to see Marius in the shadows, going a bit pale himself. “…Opening the door for Amadeo, Master.”

Marius laughed quietly to himself, Amadeo had convinced Riccardo to go from tutor to accomplice, it seemed. “Yes, what a nice idea - please, open the door for your brother, and then it is well past when you should have been asleep. Open the door and go to bed.”

And so Riccardo pulld back the bolt on the door and cracked it open, peeking out the door, confirming that Amadeo was not far away - he wanted to warn him, to suggest that he straighten his clothes and sober up as much as he could while walking that last half a block, but he suspected that wouldn’t be well received. Any other night, Riccardo would have waited at the door for Amadeo to step in, but tonight he was already at the base of the stairs, his slender back turned to Amadeo when he entered as he heading up to the upper level of the palazzo to return to his room, though he doubted he would sleep well.

Even if he was still a little inebriated, Amadeo would surely sense that something was different tonight - why was Riccardo already half way up the stairs, and was it his imagination or did this entry way feel colder than the warm streets he had just left?

“We saved you a plate, Amadeo. Come, eat.”

Such kind words in such a stern tone. He’d recognize the voice instantly of course, and ifhe approached the table in the shadows he’d see there was a plate with two filets of fish and seasoned rice - both cold now. Beside the plate was a large cup of water. 

And of course , in that chair not far away was the Master himself. His long gold hair shined even in the dark and his pale features could be made out at a short distance, but even before his face was clearly visible, his blue eyes shown slightly in the dark. While his blue eyes had been warmly regarding the younger boys not long before, they were like ice now as they regarded his very own prodigal child.

Though he would gestured to the seat for Amadeo to sit, and to the food to encourage him to eat, he would say nothing at first, leaving it to Amadeo to break the silence.

[xbestbrotherx]

the dude who invented the rule about holding hands during a seance after noticing he’s sitting next to the guy he likes: oh haven’t you heard?

[xbestbrotherx]

Bold as he had to be to pitch his work to couples in the square it was often a show, a facade he could only manage to keep up for so long. So Zaire might have noticed the sound of Rocco letting out a sigh, having unconsciously been holding his breath while waiting for Zaire to say something. 

“I did approach a few stores but there are enough real artists in Venice that they weren’t so interested in my work. One place said they would give me wall space but that if it didn’t sell I would owe them, and if it did sell they offered barely enough to cover materials... It didn’t seem worth it, they benefited whether it sold or not. I’d rather work with someone who has a vested interest in it selling.”

Rocco grinned at Zaire’s confidence about being able to sell the paintings, a hand coming up to push a few black curls from his face and back behind his ear. “Without trickery? I don’t want to mislead anyone - to say that they are by any other artist, or to pickpocket them or anything, you understand, of course?”

Rocco was a little anxious that he’d gotten himself into business with someone who didn’t share his ideals... but Zaire seemed quite capable of honest work, even if disinclined to it. 

It was the early evening and Zaire would hear the sound of feet rushing up the stairs, excited voices chattering away in Italian about classes and teachers and homework. He’d be able to see the group pass the opening at the far end of the ‘hall’ as they headed into the kitchen - they must have ranged from 10 to 15, give or take. The sounds of book bags being set down on the floor and brown paper packages of food being unwrapped on the big table.

Rocco glanced toward the window, seeing the sun disappearing behind the rooftops of the city. “Ah... the boys. It’s going to be very rowdy in here soon for a bit. it might be easier to continue our conversation in a cafe...”

Though before he could make any further suggestions a boy of maybe 12 rushed down the hall to Rocco with a paper in hand, a graded quiz - 10 out of 10! The boy had a big grin, waving the paper around until Rocco took the paper from him and looked it over, looking unfazed at first before his face lit up in a big show. “A Ten?! You got them ALL right?! I knew you could do it!” Rocco slid his arm around the boy’s shoulders and turned to face Zaire, “This is my new friend, Zaire - he’s not moving in, just visiting. Zaire, this is Jacob. One of my younger... flatmates. We’ve been working very hard on spelling, as you can see. He’s also quite the apprentice with paint... the wooden panels in the corner are all his handy work from sketch to detail. One day in the not too distant future he’ll surpass me, I think.... but for now, dinner. Go eat.” Jacob waved at Zaire as he was introduced, grinning at the compliments to his work, though he didn’t deny them and when he was ordered back to the kitchen he offered his hand to Zaire with a nod and a firm shake. “Nice to meet you, Zaire.” but he was given his test back and ushered down the hall back to the others.

Rocco took a deep breath and turned to face Zaire again, pausing a moment before he spoke again, “As I was saying... a cafe might be more suitable now that the zoo - I mean school - is out...”

Picture Perfect

[xbestbrotherx]

Mood: Tying down my boyfriend and fucking him into a moaning/shivering mess, then letting him lay on my chest while I play with his hair and tell him what a good boy he is.

[xbestbrotherx]

@the-savage-nymph-art/@musica-artium-optima-est as Riccardo

@amadeo-child-of-the-renaissance /myself as Amadeo

//I kinda like the effect of the filters.

[xbestbrotherx]

“Don’t do this, they’re innocent. Don’t kill them. Don’t.” No matter how loud I cried out I could hear the dying cries of the boys who burned, Amadeo, save us, whether there were words to the final terror or no. Finally all the living took up this chant. “Amadeo, save us!” but their band was not halved and soon only a fourth remained, squirming and struggling, as they were finally heaved up to the unspeakable death. […] I called their names. At the top of my lungs, I called out: “In Heaven, my brothers, in Heaven, you go into the arms of God!” - tVA p.273

[xbestbrotherx]

Reblog if you want a terrible, 3 sentence fan fiction in your ask, based on your url

[xbestbrotherx]

Amadeo: Just bring the master to me.

Riccardo: Well, he locked himself in the bedroom and I doubt he'll want to speak with anyone.

Amadeo: Just tell him I said something.

Riccardo: Said what?

Amadeo: Anything factually inaccurate.

*two minutes later*

Marius to Amadeo: 'The sky is blue because it's reflecting the color of the ocean'?!

[xbestbrotherx]

imagine Bob Ross painting in the style of Hieronymus Bosch

“this little demon down here is kind of lonely, let’s give him some happy little friends. little demon party.”