#my heart is a harpsichord

[opold]

one thing they're always saying about me. is. that i don't got the pinkie length for traditional piano fingering

#mine owne posts #looking lustfully and with green envy in my heart at other people's hands. and harpsichords

[supercantaloupe]

anyway nobody asked but here's what instruments i'm assigning the don giovanni characters

the don: violin, mandolin, pianoforte. and voice obviously

leporello: viola da gamba. cello too

anna: harp or flute? also pianoforte and voice

ottavio: violin but he kinda sucks at it. voice.

elvira: oboe, pianoforte, voice

masetto: some kind of small lute or early guitar like the cittern or similar

zerlina: if anything i think she can do some percussive things like tambourine and castanets but i don't think she plays anything melodic. she can sing though

#i'm claiming elvira as one of us and you can do nothing to stop me. #my music degree sure isn't getting me any jobs but at least it's useful for making posts no one cares about on the internet #also yes basically all the nobility got assigned pianoforte and voice. i have my reasons #idk why lep feels so much more viola da gamba to me than cello. i include cello too cause it was of course common by that time #and obviously is MUCH more well known today #but in my heart he is a violist first and a cellist second #oh i didn't include the commendatore did i. fuck man idk. pianoforte i guess. harpsichord. whatever #sasha speaks

[inctumbls]

I think more modern music should use harpsichords actually

#thinking about this because of dnd earlier #none of my party knew what a harpsichord even was #it made my baroque loving heart cry a little

[coffeewritesfiction]

Which Image - A Chzo Mythos fanfic

Title comes from the song Witch Image by the band Ghost. If there's interest I'll write more and explain to my followers what this game series is.

Apologies to the people who wanted to be tagged in this, Tumblr isn't recognizing your urls. I'll try to tag in a reblog. Also apologies to the British if my American ass screwed things up. I'll make edits as needed.

London, 2015

In between the crackling thunder, a young man screamed in agony, sweet as the music of a harpsichord.

Footsteps pounded like the rain through the stolen, repurposed corpse of a building. An office, once, now a shell like any other mortal body. Down the many stairs the footsteps carried, sneakers squeaking wet on dirty tile. Down the stairs and through the halls, she ran.

Why the persistence? Too late, far too late, to save her friend. But the young woman resisted the obvious. Dark of hair and pure of heart, he could not harm her yet. He watched the sweat drip down her warm brown skin, how she brushed the strands of hair from her face. Standing, kneeling, struggling, suffering.

He watched and he wondered. Yes, he did wonder.

It'd been a strange choice, to offer up an American for a sacrifice, but Chzo was not a picky god. This young woman could not have looked more different from her light-haired friend. But in her eyes, a desperate fire burned, and looking away proved a challenge.

That fire… She reminded him of someone. How distasteful.

Of course, of course, too late for her friend. She opened the door to strangers standing over the remains. Of course, of course, too late for her. The cult would spare her, when they caught her, he would ensure it…

They did not catch her.

They did not even notice her, too consumed with their own escape. The Ministry agents closed in, fortune smiling upon them once again. She fled, they fled, and it had all gone wrong.

He could've been furious.

He could've been.

Instead, he stood upon the old building, his shadow stretching long in the light flashing overhead. He stood, and he watched her race into the darkness, her parcel, their parcel, clutched to her frail body.

He watched, and yes, yes he wondered.

She reminded him of someone… Cabadath wasn't sure he liked that.

It'd been almost twelve hours before anyone realized the girl was gone. Far too late to save her life. The Order of Blessed Agonies worked fast. But so did Trilby.

The Order must've been desperate to prey on tourists. They had to have known who they were choosing. The accents on these kids weren't subtle. Five of them came overseas on spring holiday, bright eyed and oblivious. Three headed home tonight. The other two would follow in coffins.

“Trilby,” one of his supervisors said, “I know what you're thinking. Don't put yourself at risk to try and save this kid.”

“I'm already at risk,” he'd said. “What's a little more?”

“We need you alive - and so do they.”

And that was the thing, wasn't it? The Order wouldn't keep this girl, this Jillian Taylor Cortez, alive, but he couldn't say they'd do the same with him. Damned prophecies…

Her name was Jillian Taylor Cortez. She just turned 19. Mexican-American mother, British father. Got her middle name because the latter died before she was born, so said her friends.

She looked nothing like Simone Taylor. If she had, Trilby might've lost it again.

Twelve hours, they found the boy, or what was left of him. They'd followed the muddy footprints from the ground floor all the way to the altar. Trilby followed them back up, frowning. Pretended he didn't see the glances between the ones around him.

He had a hunch.

Just a hunch, but he'd been doing this for almost twenty years now. Just a hunch, he'd say later… but he'd been right before.

“Don't you dare!” Someone shouted at his back. “Damn it, Trilby! Get back here! It's not worth it!”

He ignored them, ignored the rain soaking his suit. Wasn't breaking the rules if nobody up top told you not to. Besides, he was just following a hunch. Just giving a quick check around the buildings. No harm in that.

No harm on her, when he caught her dead center in the light of his torch.

He stared at her and she stared right back, her eyes wide and hollow. The rain soaked her right through, plastering clothes to skin and hair to her cheeks. The bow in her hair, half undone. The fear in her eyes, too painful, too real.

Trilby raised a hand.

“Jill-”

She bolted.

“Wait! No!”

Trilby followed.

The kid knew how to run. Ran through the streets like the world was ending. Trilby kept up. He wasn't young anymore, he'd feel it for the next few days, but he kept up. So did the rain.

Only took a few wrong turns. She didn't know anything about the area - neither did he, to be fair. Was only a little bit of a surprise to find themselves in another alley, to come across the fence blocking their way. Was a very big surprise when the girl ran right for it.

“Jillian!” He shouted over the thunder. “Jill!”

Did she even hear him? She didn't stop. Lunged for the fence, one hand grasping the chain link metal. Trilby moved faster than her.

He grabbed her around the waist. She screamed. They both hit the ground, he let her go and she scrambled backwards. He shifted, sat up, looked her in the face again.

Terrified eyes, wide and wild. It wasn't just the rain soaking her cheeks, the spring weather shuddering her shoulders.

Trilby raised his hands.

“Jillian,” he said. “It's alright, Jill. I'm with the Ministry of Occultism. We're here to help you. I can't believe you're still alive…”

She breathed. She held the book in her arms tight. Book? He looked down at it. Heavy, large, leather bound. Some kind of writing on the cover.

Oh my God, he thought. Did she steal that from the Order?

Trilby looked up to her face again. Her eyes locked onto something over his shoulder.

Trilby jerked out of the way. The blade buried into the ground he'd stood moments before. Trilby moved, backed away as far as he could go, the blood draining from his face.

“Oh, hell,” Trilby said.

The featureless face of the Prince of Pain tilted towards him. Cabadath had not changed at all in the last twenty years. Bone chilling, even after all these years and all their meetings. Still ever the same, nine feet tall and dressed in black, the rain coursing down his long coat and leaving the fabric dry. The Prince straightened in slow motions, raising the four pronged scythe and resting it by his side.

Still the Prince stared at him, though he had no eyes to do so. He raised a hand and pointed to the girl.

Jill. She'd gotten out of the way just in time. Trilby couldn't risk looking away from the Prince for longer than an instant, Cabadath moved too fast, but she still breathed, standing against the fence. Her eyes, still wild, locked onto the terror between them.

Had Cabadath been chasing her too? The Prince had powers like no human ever could. Hallucinations were a favorite, Trilby knew that from experience.

The Prince waited.

Trilby took a breath.

“Jillian,” he said. “Give him the book.”

She did not move but her whole body shuddered with her breath.

“He's playing nice right now,” Trilby said, eyes locked on the Prince, “but he doesn't have to. You don't know what he's fully capable of, you've just seen part of it.”

Jillian did not move.

“There's nothing in that book that can help you,” Trilby said. “You don't want to get involved with this more than you have been. I don't know how you got it, but you need to give it back. Before he takes it from you.”

Her body shuddered. Jillian blinked, hard. The Prince did not move. He did not look away.

Her arms unlocked. She took another deep, shuddering breath. Holding the book in careful hands, she laid it upon the ground at her feet, and stepped away. And away. And away.

Trilby watched the Prince. He did not notice where the young woman moved to, until she stopped. Stopped between him and Cabadath, facing the Prince, her arms stretched out as if she could protect Trilby from the monster watching them.

Protect him from Cabadath. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry at the thought.

The Prince tilted his head. His gaze shifted towards the girl. Trilby placed a hand on Jillian’s shoulder. Cabadath’s shoulders shook, as if in silent laughter. But of course, no sound came from the Tall Man. They were not worth the effort.

Turning away from the mortals, Cabadath stepped toward the book. He knelt, and with one long free hand, picked it up. Turning fully back towards the two humans, he bowed a mocking thanks. Trilby set his teeth, held Jill's shoulder as she flinched.

As the Prince straightened, he vanished. The rain poured down over them and the tension disappeared from Trilby's body. Cabadath truly was gone. For now.

Jillian sobbed.

Trilby's focus snapped to her again. Shit.

“Jill?”

She placed her hand over her mouth as the sobs shook her body.

“Cal,” she whispered the name of her friend. “Cal, I'm sorry.”

He couldn't think of anything to say. Trilby wrapped an arm around her and pulled out his phone with the other. How long had it been ringing?

“Yeah?” He said. “Yeah, I'm alright. Yeah, we're both okay. I found the girl, she's alive. It's… it's a long story. I'll explain everything back at headquarters.”

Trilby held the young woman against his body as he led her back into the light. He glanced uneasy at the roofs above them, expecting a tall shadow staring down, but only the rain waited overhead, the drops falling down between her tears.

#chzo mythos #writeblr #writeblr community #cabadath #chzo Mythos Trilby

[fanfaron]

Adagio ovvero Largo. - A kinky Hannigram fanfic

Hi!

I'm Fanfaron, and I'm completely new to both the world of Tumblr, and the world of fanfiction.

I woke up a few days ago with just a burning passion to write something after having binged all of Hannibal whilst I worked on my latest cross-stitch project.

I hadn't written fiction in nearly two decades (and I don't read anymore, books nor fanfiction), and I used to struggle to pass even two paragraphs, so I was very surprised when I found myself spending an entire day feverishly writing this 6000-word homoerotic romp.

I've heard that Tumblr is the place to go if you want to engage with fandoms, and as an official Old Person I feel quite out of my depth, but I figured I'd give it a go.

I've also noticed that a lot of fanfiction writers for gay content tend to be cis women, and whilst they are absolutely talented and wonderful (I saw a couple of fics that were intensely steamy), I hope that my experiences as a certified queer boy might be a welcome addition to the scene.

I'm going to pop the entire first chapter here, and going forward I'll be adding new chapters on my (shiny new) AO3 account, and I'll update here as they go live.

You can find that here!

I would absolutely love feedback, thanks ever so much in advance.

This fanfiction is intended for Mature, Adult readers only.

Content Warnings: Power imbalance, therapist/patient relationship, suggestion of manipulation, sadomasochism, light blood letting, impact play

Adagio ovvero Largo.

Chapter One - Composition

The clock on the wall acted as a metronome, the rhythmic tick, tick, tocking of the second hand creating a reliable constant as swathes of notes streamed out amidst the mind of the man striding elegantly across his office. With each step, more imagined twangs of a mental harpsichord spilled forth from his inner recesses, relishing in past compositions whilst beginning anew with a natural ease akin to breathing. 

Dr Hannibal Lecter was not only a connoisseur of fine music; it ran underneath his very skin, unseen. Between the layers of dermis and muscle lies pitch, tone and chord. The blood within his veins created a coloratura as it spread across every inch of his body, a crescendo of sanguine liquid flowing into his heart and syphoning back out into the body that lightly swayed as it travelled across grey wooden floors. 

The arts provided him with a stillness, a calming lull of sweetness that filled his soul, and his belly. In moments of waiting, that fullness was enough to satiate his hunger for more unconventional cuisines. Such a craving was of course inevitable, but he was well versed in finding other ways to seek mediary satisfaction.

His slender fingers stretched out by his sides as he meandered across his broad, tastefully decorated office, fingertips lifting and dipping with each note that played out behind his eyes, his digits moving in perfect measure as though to truly caress the ivory keys.

As his ring finger began to press down to strike another mental chime, a sharp knock at the door rang through his skull and the music was brought to an abrupt silence. The first knock was met with a second, more hesitant dull thud, as though the person who stood behind the door was taken aback by their own sound. Hannibal immediately knew who possessed such a second guessing nature. 

“Come in, Will.” His own low, precisely measured voice broke the silence this time, as he made his way over to his desk, leaning back against the solid frame.

The door opened, revealing the smaller-framed man that was FBI profiler Will Graham, an air of apprehension practically radiating off of his body and into the stillness of the confined space of Dr Lecter’s office. He pressed his back against the door, closing it with his physique, his eyes only briefly flitting to glance at his duty-bound therapist. 

“You knew it was me,” he mumbled simply, “I know that this isn’t our... allotted time.” Dark curls of hair fell over his glasses as he looked down at the floor, his skin pale and adorned with beads of perspiration. He was dishevelled, at least more so than usual.

“I suppose I have a knack for prediction,” Hannibal replied with a hint of a smile, “And you know that you are always welcome, Will. I was not otherwise engaged.”

A ragged sigh spilled from Will’s lips as he stepped towards one of the two dark leather armchairs, looking almost as though his knees would buckle as he firmly grasped the back of the chair, his knuckles briefly turning white as he squeezed the material. “I… lost time again. I feel as though my own memories are being ripped straight out of my head.”

“Where did you find yourself?” the older man asked, hoisting himself forward from his desk to join the panicked fawn before him, smoothing out his dusky blue plaid jacket as he lowered himself into the other chair. 

“...Here.” There was a bitter resentment in Will’s response, his voice breathy and his face contorted as it escaped his mouth. “I was outside the building, but I don’t know… I don’t remember how I got here.”

“Perhaps your subconscious is trying to protect you, and take you to where you need to be. A safe place.” Hannibal extended his palm, inviting Will to join him, who did so with a visibly shaky reluctance as he sank into the chair opposite.

“Is this a safe place, Dr Lecter?” Will finally raised his eyes to meet the good Doctor’s. Though now both perched on the same level, he both looked and felt infinitely smaller in his seat, his wrinkled shirt stained with dark patches of sweat that made him look strangely sunken.

Hannibal didn’t answer immediately, instead taking a moment to search Will’s eyes for more information. The blues of his irises seemed almost stormy, dulled with anxiety and uncertainty. He glanced away, aware that staring can cause a more vulnerable animal to bolt, before responding, “If that is what you need it to be, yes.”

Will’s eyes narrowed, distrusting, as he began to pick at his nails, his breath still unsteady. “So it’s not always safe, then.” 

“It is what the patient needs it to be, Will. Do you perhaps think that you thrive better in an environment fraught with danger?” This time Hannibal’s eyes were unwavering, boring into Will’s with this question. If Will was going to withdraw his trust, Hannibal was going to be less inclined to a gentle approach.

“You’d probably think so, wouldn’t you,” Will almost laughed, but there was no humour in his tone. He tried to hold the other man’s gaze, becoming aware that behind his professional demeanour was an impending sense of a predator considering its prey. “That seems to be all life is these days. Danger. Are you dangerous, Dr Lecter?”

The smirk that curled up against Hannibal’s lips was an undisciplined response, but not one he tried to disguise immediately. Instead he rose from his chair and approached the rather traumatised, younger man, stepping behind him so that he could observe, but not be observed. 

“We all possess the capacity for malevolence, Will,” he replied softly, looking down at the paltry shape of a man before him. His eyes drew across his shoulders, hunched and pathetic, his unkempt hair that glistened with panicked sweat from his sleep walking, and finally his gaze landed upon the nape of his neck. 

“Y-yes, well, I’d rather not be exposed to it, if it’s all the same,” Will contested from his seat, shifting uncomfortably as he felt Hannibal’s eyes burning into him from behind.

Burn they did, as he studied the small patches of skin between hair and shirt, glimpses of naked flesh he could not ignore. Hannibal had known for some time now that Will Graham was not an adversary, nor a patient, nor quite a meal. But rather he was the other side to his coin, something to consume that would make him whole. 

He placed a hand gingerly upon Will’s shoulder, causing the man to flinch instinctively, but he kept it rested there. “I assure you, you are safe here.” With a mischievous glimmer in his eyes of which the younger man was none the wiser, Hannibal leaned in to place his lips beside Will’s ear, where he continued in a hushed purr, “Unless you do not want to be.” 

The prey had been startled, the fawn had bucked, and Will Graham unceremoniously launched himself out of his seat, his knees colliding with the ground before clumsily pushing himself off of the floor. He swung around, staring at Hannibal with wide, wild eyes. He held a hand tightly to his ear, gripping it as though wounded.

“One would think I had just bitten you,” Hannibal murmured, his voice dripping with beguiling satisfaction as Will glared at him through a haze of red-cheeked embarrassment and rage. “Of course, that could be arranged.”

“What are you doing!?” Will sputtered, surprising even himself with how his voice cracked as it left his lips, but then his tone lowered and emitted an unmistakable sense of having been the victim of betrayal. “Am I not suffering enough for you?”

Hannibal stretched into a standing position from where he had been leaning, his long limbs looking almost feline. Once again he neatened his suit, and his russet eyes landed upon his prey with a hint of arrogance. “Do you not relish suffering? You almost seem to seek it out, do you not?”

“I do not!” Will snapped, his voice raising with very little self control. He folded his arms across his torso in an attempt to disguise the quiver rising in his fingers, determined to hold his ground despite the disorientation that brought him into this situation. 

“Then release yourself from it.” Hannibal’s voice spilled forth with a darker tone, a suggestion of a dare. He began to make his way towards Will, who stepped backwards at equal pace. “Take control of your suffering and release yourself, or stop fighting it and accept who you are.”

“I don’t—” Will’s words were interrupted by the collision of a bookcase against his back, radiating through to his chest and stealing his voice. His eyes glanced around wildly as if to find a way to escape, but before he could even think he was being stared down. 

“You revel in pain.” This last word was punctuated by the thud of Hannibal’s palm thrusting against the thick spine of a book beside Will’s head. “Whether that’s taking a life, or inviting others to bring harm to your door. Or perhaps turning up at their door.” 

The shorter man avoided the heat of a gaze upon him, eye contact felt unnecessary at the best of times but this was downright invasive. “...Is that your professional opinion, Doctor?” Panicked or not, he would not be outdone.

“It is a personal one,” Hannibal responded frankly, his shadow cast over the other man, causing any reflection in his glasses to vanish and give a clear glimpse of the thick lashes covering the eyes refusing to look back at him. 

“Your personal opinion…” Will began, his breath stuttering, their closeness now bringing a sense of claustrophobia that seemed to steal the very air from his lungs. “...Is that I want you to-... hurt me?” It was as though the word ‘hurt’ had to be forcibly wrenched from his tender insides, carrying a strange weight of perversion.

Hannibal leaned in and lowered his lips to Will’s ear once more, taking delight in the way that his body stiffened as he braced himself for the hot breath soon to be tickling his flesh, already tinged pink with a rush of blood. “...Don’t you?” 

Will’s breath caught in his gullet as his face seared with embarrassment and confusion. His abdomen was a mess of knotted organs, a dull aching sickness rising to his sternum with a peculiar sense of guilt. “I don’t-...” He furrowed his eyebrows, struggling to phrase his reply. “I’ve never considered it.”

A deep inhalation through his nostrils caused Hannibal’s eyelids to flutter closed. Top notes of the lingering remnants of a familiar, unsuitably cheap aftershave. Fighting to overtake that scent were the salty middle notes of apprehension, the fragrance of a cold sweat from a frightful awakening. Finally, base notes of what can only be described as irrefutably Will Graham; musky beech trees, the faintest hint of a tulip poplar, and a not entirely unpleasant whiff of wet dog.

“Are you considering it now?” He dipped his face ever so slightly as he spoke in a deliberately soft and slow inflection, his mouth passing Will’s earlobe, the tip of his nose brushing across a layer of stubble, for which he was rewarded a small jolt of Will’s frame. He allowed the combination of earthy scents to fill his lungs, as his lips hovered below an enticing jawline.

Will frowned, unable to comprehend exactly how he was to approach this situation. He was caught in a bear trap, but curiosity halted his desire to flee. He had his suspicions about Dr Lecter’s decorum behind closed doors, and he certainly expected a degree of unorthodox psychiatric practices, but this was something even his deeply rooted empathy could not have foreseen. 

Then there was the unexpected closeness of this man he had been having deeply intimate, professional conversations with, who had witnessed some of his nethermost insecurities and traumas. Physical contact was not on his list of priorities, let alone a communion which not only flushed his skin and caused his heartbeat to echo against his eardrums, but also carried an underlying current of saccharine sadism. 

“...I don’t think I have much choice, do I? You’ve planted the idea in my head. Probably not a first for you.” His voice was calmer; he could feel a part of his psyche giving in to defeat, a faint hint of submission. 

“There’s always a choice, Will.” Hannibal drew back to meet Will face to face. He knew that if things were to proceed in his favour that this was a point that was crucial to communicate, even if in his mind autonomy was not truly in Will’s hands, but his own. “You can choose to leave, our impromptu night session drawn to an end. Or you can stay, and consider my words further.”

“It’s your actions that I’m worried about,” Will muttered, reaching up to rub his temple, only to be reminded of his glasses. He pulled them from behind his ears, massaging the side of his forehead with one hand, as though to soothe himself. 

“May I?” Hannibal reached out a hand towards Will’s glasses, and although a tad perplexed he handed them over without question. Hannibal travelled over to his desk, placing the glasses down neatly upon the mahogany surface. 

This allowed Will a moment of reprieve and he took several deep breaths, finally able to free his back from being pressed up against a rigid wooden column, and no longer trapped under excruciatingly close contact. 

“So, there’s the door. What will your choice be?” Hannibal spun on his heel, standing by his desk so that there was now a clear path from Will to the door. He extended an offer of freedom and self-determination, yet the confidence ringing in his voice suggested a predetermined outcome. 

Will did not respond. He simply stood, thoughts racing, studying the handsome Lithuanian. He felt as though his feet were glued to the floor, torn between self preservation and painfully alluring morbid curiosity. Ultimately an out was provided, and he simply did not take it. 

“Well then,” Hannibal continued, after allowing Will some time to fester on the spot. He carefully removed his jacket before laying it delicately across the desk, then moved to unbutton and remove his waistcoat. “Take off your shirt.”

“Sorry- what?” Will stumbled over his words, eyes frantic as he watched Hannibal begin to remove his cufflinks and roll his white sleeves up towards his elbows. “Wait, I didn’t-, I’m not—” 

“I’m not going to fuck you, Will.” Blunt, to the point, and stated without even looking at the wounded creature stuttering across the room, Hannibal instead focused on pulling at and tidying his sleeves in place, ensuring his forearms would be comfortable for the acts to come. 

Will stared, dumbfounded. Those were not words he was expecting to hear that day, let alone from Dr Hannibal Lector. Blood rushed to his face, a bizarre concoction of emotions flooding his brain. There was a twinge of excitement at the unexpected imagery that he tried to shoo away, followed by an even more unexpected sense of indignation; he couldn’t help but take offence on some level. 

“Will. Your shirt,” Hannibal repeated, noticing that Will had yet to react to his instructions. “Unless you require some assistance.”

“No, no, I got it.” Feeling a little lost, Will simply began to follow instructions, and unbuttoned his shirt. As he began to remove the garment he realised just how much he had recovered from his earlier panic, the air feeling cold against his skin from where it had been slick with sweat, causing goosebumps to prickle up across his arms and chest, fine hairs standing on end. 

“Good. Now, face the wall.” Another instruction delivered curtly. 

Will raised an eyebrow as if to ask, ‘excuse me, come again?’ but he said nothing, just staring for a moment with his mouth slightly agape, before turning slowly and moving towards the wall beside the bookcase, his shirt still gripped tightly in one hand. 

The sound of footsteps alerted him as he stared at the wine coloured wall before him, and a sense of dread began to overtake any sense of composure he had regained. A hand reached around from behind him, startling him into a small jump, as Hannibal took his shirt from his grasp and disappeared from his side. 

He heard the soft slide and click of a drawer being opened and closed, before Hannibal’s voice penetrated his mind with yet more instructions. “Place your hands up against the wall.”

It was beginning to feel like some sort of ludicrous police arrest role play, a parody of what he had witnessed so many times now, but Will did as he was told, feeling as though he had come too far to back down now. He planted his hands up against the cold paint, experiencing some small reassurance in his chest no longer being exposed, but that sense of security would be short-lived. 

First he heard the sound of Hannibal’s shoes on the hardwood floor behind him once more, then he recognised the presence of the taller man looming over his figure. He expected more instructions, but instead what he received was a perplexing epiphany. 

Leaning in close enough for his lips to now make direct contact with Will’s ear, moving beyond the tease of breath and instead sending a small bolt of electricity that penetrated his flesh and punctured his spine, Hannibal softly whispered a simple praise, “Good boy.”

A gasp stifled its way out of Will’s diaphragm and for a split second his knees threatened to give way beneath him, a hand momentarily shifting against the wall. In a heartbeat his breathing became laboured, the air knocked out of him by two words. He was thankful that Hannibal could not see his face, a mix of bewilderment and thrill. 

Hannibal was equally grateful that the grin spreading across his lips would not be shared with his prey. He inhaled deeply against Will’s skin, a faint dizziness dancing across his forehead as he detected the subtlety of a new, growing bouquet. Arousal.

“Do you know what vampire gloves are, Will?” He broke the silence, hoping to deceive that he had not sensed Will’s reaction to his words.

“...No,” Will replied weakly, trying to regain composure, praying that the wall would either somehow support him or crumble beneath his grip and provide escape. 

“Then let us test your senses, and see if you can describe to me what you believe you are feeling.” Hannibal continued to speak in a tone that hardly differed from that of what Will would hear during their sessions, but now affording him an entirely new form of trepidation.

Will jumped immediately at the first sensation, struggling to keep his hands in place. It was as though a hundred cold needles were being pressed into his shoulder blade. Not painful, the pressure was light, but unusual enough to take him by surprise. He felt the series of needles being towed across his skin, down along the left side of his back at a cruelly lethargic speed. 

“...Spikes?” he asked with a pondering hesitation. 

“Yes, good. A leather glove, the fingers of which have been pierced from within with many tiny, metal spikes, like a chorus of vampire fangs,” Hannibal explained matter-of-factly, continuing to stroke his gloved hand along the left side of Will’s back from top to bottom, occasionally running a sharp finger along the nape of his neck, causing small sighs to erupt from between his lips. 

The rhythmic stroking was not at all unpleasant, but rather began to lull Will into an almost sleepy haze, the gentle scratches along his skin making his muscles glow with a soft warmth. It felt almost as if he was being petted, and each time a finger approached his neck or the small of his back he found himself instinctively flexing into the sensation. 

“They have the ability to tease…” Hannibal’s voice drew quieter as he focused on his actions, his eyes tracing the small red lines created by his glove. He brought himself closer to the man’s blushing back, replacing the glove this time with his mouth, planting a chaste kiss that charred with the heat radiating from the base of Will’s neck. 

Just as he was rewarded with a surprised gasp from the other man, he continued, “...And to torture.” With this he moved his gloved hand to the right side of Will’s back, planted it upon his scapula, and dug firmly into the flesh of his shoulder.

A pained moan emitted from below him, but Hannibal did not relent. Will instinctively writhed, his back contorting to flee the assault, small gasps and pained sounds pouring from him, but still Hannibal held firm. He placed his bare hand against Will’s upon the wall, though it was not clear if this was to support him or to trap him. 

“Dr L-Lector—” Will choked, feeling the surprise of tears pricking the corners of his eyes, struggling to keep his posture upright as the man’s hand pushed harder into his skin. 

“Endure it,” Hannibal practically growled in Will’s ear, a feverish tone domineering over his usual calm demeanour, his fingers now intertwining with Will’s against the wall. “Endure,” he repeated, before dragging his gloved hand down along Will’s back, from the shoulder blade and further along the pale landscape of flesh, a brief moment feeling like an eternity as gasps and whimpers filled the office. 

His hand stopped above Will’s hip, but he did not withdraw. Instead he began to dig into this new patch of virgin territory, squeezing at the small amount of fat tissue beneath the skin. All the while the thin, needle-sized trails from his shoulder blade began to bead with droplets of blood, a stream of budding lines swelling and rising, his skin growing redder with every passing second.

Finally, Hannibal released his grasp, and the sound that escaped Will was one he didn’t recognise, a strained moan he had never heard uttered from his own mouth before. His breathing was quick and shallow, his heart thumped inside his chest, and he felt as though he had run a marathon. 

“...Good boy,” Hannibal uttered, his head now upon Will’s shoulder from behind, and it was at this point that Will realised how laboured they both were, with intermingled rapid breaths, and equally hot cheeks pressed together. 

Those words began to ring in Will’s head as the pain across his back started a transformation, the blistering agony instead taking on a sharp, stinging ache that prickled at his skin in a way that baffled his brain with waves of adrenaline-fuelled pleasure. If this was torture, it was delectable.

In a brief lapse of self control, Hannibal took the side of Will’s ear between his teeth, gently grazing against the lobe in a manner most contradictory of his instincts, his tongue beginning to probe the sensitive organ, prying small, sweet sounds from Will’s lips. 

But bliss is not why they were there.

Will let out a satisfactory sigh as he succumbed to the sensations of Hannibal’s unexpected intimacy, but it was soon caught in his throat as the vampire gloved hand snaked its way around the side of his neck opposite to Hannibal’s oral torture, slowly creeping up along the nape before seizing its target. 

“Aah, Hannibal—” He winced and buckled a little, not even noticing that he had resorted to his therapist’s first name, but the other man certainly noticed and made sure to reward such familiarity by clamping his hand down firmer upon the back of Will’s head.

“Yes, Will?” Hannibal asked in a low voice, the vibrations of his purr reverberating against the side of Will’s face, metal spikes clawing downwards at a snail’s pace.

Will’s breathing stuttered and his eyes closed tightly, the pained tears that had escaped them mixed with the skin of Hannibal’s cheek. “F-fuck!” was all he could utter, but he could feel Hannibal’s smile against him.

“So, which do you prefer, Will Graham? Teasing, or torture?” He pressed his lips against Will’s stubble, enjoying the mix of rough and tender against his sensitive skin, as he released the flushed boy’s neck and began to drag the glove down along his spine.

“I…” Will began, his brain deliriously flooded with chemical releases, the hot sensation of blood upon his back, and the frustrating closeness of his torturer pressed up against his face. But something in him was breaking. “...I think you can… do better than that.”

Hannibal’s hand withdrew almost immediately, and he found himself stepping backwards, feeling the loss of Will’s cheek against his own as he removed himself. He took the opportunity to survey his handiwork, the body before him almost slumping against the wall now with shaky breaths, and a series of magnificent scratches adorning his physique. Hot, red, swollen and decorated with patches of drying blood, he was simply beautiful to behold.

He slipped the vampire glove from his slender fingers and tossed it carelessly upon the desk, observing his victim with ravenous eyes, before stepping away from the challenger. 

“Come here, Will,” Hannibal called from across the room, taking Will by surprise. He slowly peeled his hands from the wall, straightening his back and feeling every wound throb with an enticing sting as he began to move his muscles. Unsure, he turned to see Hannibal sitting in the chair facing him. “Come and stand in front of me.” 

Each step felt like a lifetime as he followed orders once more, until finally he was standing before Hannibal. Although a pain-induced haze still hung like a curtain over his eyes, he was all too aware of how his body betrayed him. His nipples were as swollen as his wounds and just as crimson-hued, but worse still he was now conscious of the small damp stain upon the crotch of his trousers.

Hannibal’s eyes travelled up and down the man’s figure, and if he noticed these things he opted not to draw attention to them, instead settling his eyes upon Will’s own. “Perhaps I was too quick to praise you. It would appear, Will, that you are in fact a very, very naughty boy.”

Will’s face flooded with embarrassment. Whilst the praise stirred something almost animalistic in his loins, suddenly being infantilised like this instead brought about a sense of humiliation that was not to his tastes, but the look in Hannibal’s eyes suggested that his discomfort was wholly the point. 

“Remove your trousers,” Hannibal stated simply, his eyes drifting down to Will’s belt.

“I-... I’m not sure-...” Will hesitated, the growing demands of disrobing making him uncertain, even with the painful reminders pulsing on his back telling him that there was little point in turning back now. 

“I already told you,” Hannibal began, taking Will’s gaze once again, “I’m not going to fuck you.”

“...So you keep saying,” Will muttered, choosing to ignore the somewhat bemused expression that appeared on Hannibal’s face, averting his eyes to focus on unbuckling his belt. He stumbled out of his trousers, sliding off his well worn shoes in the process, until he was standing in only his socks and boxers, hands awkwardly placed in front of him to try and keep some semblance of modesty.

“Good,” Hannibal said firmly, knowing that providing only half the praise would leave Will feeling unsatisfied. “Now, bend over my knee.” 

“Sorry, what?” Will responded immediately, a soberness to his voice that surprised even himself. 

“Must I repeat myself?” Hannibal looked up at him curiously, but without a single doubt upon his face. He knew that his instructions would be met, one way or another.

“...Fine.” Will’s reply was delivered through gritted teeth, and he was unable to prevent the hiss escaping them as he felt the small wounds upon his back stretch to reopen as he leant over Hannibal’s seat, trying to fight off discomfiture as he stumbled to find himself laying stomach-first upon the man’s legs. The texture of his suit trousers against his skin made him painstakingly aware of how little clothing covered his own body. 

Another inevitable smirk formed upon Hannibal’s face as he placed a hand down upon the small of Will’s back, his fingertips brushing against a laceration. “Good boy.”

Will clasped a hand over his mouth, biting back a moan, internally cursing himself for the impact those words had on him, for knowing that his body would react in a way he’d be unable to disguise.

Hannibal’s hand simply continued to stroke along Will’s back, taking delight in the way he had marked his new plaything, but of course this was not the activity that he had in mind. He began to toy with the waistband of Will’s boxers, which he studied intently. The material was old and slightly worn; he got the impression that Will likely didn’t buy new clothing often. How he wished he could take him shopping for a tailored suit. 

As Hannibal casually mused, Will was already in mental anguish, his attempts at internally willing away his growing arousal were not remotely successful, and he was already in the full throes of torture, or at least so he thought, until a muted slap echoed through the room. Taken aback, it took Will a moment to even realise what had happened, that Hannibal had smacked his palm down upon his buttock. 

“Did you just-... spank me?” he asked, muffled through the hand still upon his mouth. 

“You tell me, Will,” Hannibal responded curtly, before landing his hand down upon the other cheek, another slap penetrating the air of the office.

Will’s own air was stolen from his lungs in a gasp, his hand falling limply away from his face. Whilst not exactly painful, the sensation was a shock to the system. 

“I believe you wanted a change of pace, did you not?” Another smack, this time with just a degree of increased intensity, which caused a nervousness to begin gathering in Will’s chest. 

“We can do…” Another smack. “A change.” Smack. “Of.” Smack. “Pace.” Firmer still, his hands began to land slaps down upon Will’s barely covered buttocks with increasing speed and ferocity. 

With each impact, the sting would increase, and Will’s gasps became louder, but something caused Hannibal to pause. Again he found his hands playing with the elasticated band of Will’s undergarments. “Is it uncomfortable, Will?” 

“It-.. It’s fine…” Will replied breathlessly. 

“I mean, this.” Hannibal gently pulled at the clothing. “I think that we would both benefit from this being out of the way.” Using both his hands, he pulled the boxers down over Will’s groin, carefully tugging the material over the erection pressing into his lap, over his rear, leaving them to sit on Will’s thighs, careful to not make contact with his exposed rigidity in the process. “There, much better.” 

Will was speechless. A confused, almost upset sensation hit the back of his throat, a shame that, for a moment, threatened to consume him. He was so sorely embarrassed at his body’s betrayal, yet at the same time unable to ignore the unruly desire to feel more of what made him harder than he could ever remember being. For a second Will thought that he had felt a similarly longing firmness pressing up from Hannibal’s lap, but he soon had his ability to focus snatched away. 

This time the slap was almost deafening, bare skin upon bare skin. Hannibal would allow himself a moment to slide his palm along Will’s rear, savouring the softness, his fingertips dancing across plump flesh to feel patches of soft hair, before he would strike down and spank the fawn in his lap. 

What began as more of a surprise than a punishment, slowly began to reconstruct itself into an orderly, concise beating. Each smack was delivered with a precisely increased severity, always guaranteed to hit the exact spot where impact would be most effective. Will’s gasps metamorphosed in turn from shocked releases of air to cries of distress intermingled with a titillated longing.

“Is this more to your satisfaction, Will?” Hannibal asked in between thrashes, knowing full well that his treatment of the man’s tender flesh had rendered him unable to speak. He could only reply in moans and wails, though after a time his hips began to rise and fall to meet Hannibal’s hand, yearning for more. 

Will felt delirious. The agony brought with it an intense sense of relief, as though the pent-up stress buried within his ribcage was being churned out of him with every assault. His pelvis bucked wildly, his mind so foggy with hysteria that he had not even noticed when the punishment stopped. 

Hannibal kept a hand resting gently upon Will’s inflamed backside, his eyes dark with a lustful fervour, silently watching the mewling young man thrusting fiercely against his lap. His teeth sank down upon his bottom lip to stifle any sounds that threatened to emerge each time their mutual turgescence rubbed together. 

This hadn’t exactly been Hannibal’s intention when he lured his patient into a game of sadomasochism. The kind of gratification on his mind was of a far more violent persuasion, but he couldn’t bring himself to awaken Will from his desperation. His irrational frenzy stirred a longing in Hannibal that he hadn’t expected to address until much later along the line.

A hand lifted to grasp onto Hannibal’s trousers tightly, Will’s digits clinging onto the fabric as he moved with irregularity, a blaze of white filling his vision as the intensity of orgasm governed his thoughts, or lack thereof. Luscious spasms of wet, thick heat radiated from his loins, a faint numbness filling the void in the aftermath of grinding sensitive skin against an expensive suit. 

His body heaved as his lungs carelessly sought to replenish his body of oxygen, a heavy sense of exhaustion threatening to pull him under as he collapsed upon Hannibal’s lap, the Doctor’s hand making its way to warily stroke along Will’s back, but he didn’t remain dormant for long.

He fought against heavy eyelids, clutching for some semblance of sanity as reality began to dawn on him. Will shifted awkwardly, before stumbling from Hannibal’s seat, his legs threatening to give way. He felt around his thighs for his underwear, trying to pull his boxers up against his spent, naked form. 

“Will—” Hannibal began to speak, but was quickly interrupted. 

“No.” Will was stern, but his voice was weak, wrecked from the sordid cries that hailed from his frame. He didn’t want to look, yet for a moment he found himself staring at Dr Lecter’s body in the chair, staring at the mess that he had made, the shame. A lump formed in his throat, followed by a twinge of bile that threatened to ravage his raw larynx.

Wordlessly he began to gather at his clothes, wishing he could move faster, trying to make himself look presentable again as he pulled at materials and fastened buttons, none in even remotely the correct order. 

Hannibal rose from his chair and attempted to reach for the other man’s shoulder, but Will stumbled away, grabbing at his glasses on the desk. 

“Will, listen to me.” He spoke slowly but with authority, yet Will would not look in his direction. “There is a degree of aftercare that is very important here, and I cannot let you leave in this condition.” 

“You offered me the door and I am taking it, Dr Lecter.” Will’s words spilled from his mouth haphazardly as he forced his glasses onto his face. “I’m… I’m sorry. This was a mistake.” 

Before Hannibal could reach for him again, the man who was even more unkempt than when he first entered the room had left and closed the door behind him, leaving Hannibal standing with a hand outstretched. 

He closed his eyes, sucking air deep into his lungs, now quite uncomfortably aware of the wetness that stained his clothes, and the dull ache upon his palms. He simply stood, urging a calmness into his body with every breath. His fingers began to lift and dip, summoning melodies into his skull, but he could only muster a faint discordant cadence, before slamming his hands down onto his desk.

#hannigram #hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #murder husbands #fanfiction #hannigram fanfiction #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal will #slash fanfiction #mlm #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #gay men #gay #gay fiction #lgbt fiction #queer fiction #queer

[inlovewithregencyera]

Elmsworth House, July 4th, 1818

After the proposal was made and the friends and family wished their congratulations to the new couple, the party migrated to the drawing room for some entertainment before the evening was concluded. Helena asked Aurelia to enchant their guests with her refined singing and musical talents. She was reluctant at first, mainly because she hadn't sung in front of Frederick in almost two years, but she did it anyway. As Aurelia's fingers gracefully danced on the harpsichord keys, the notes that escaped her lips left Frederick enchanted by the beauty of her angelic voice. It was like a melody had echoed through the chambers of his heart. All he could do was think of was their last summer spent together, as he tried to hold back tears from the bittersweet memories they shared.

♫♫♫!!!!

♪That now lie sleeping, softly, softly, now softly, softly lies sleeping♪

♪Sleep is a reconciling, a rest that peace begets♪

♪Doth not the sun rise smiling, when fair at evening he sets♪

♪Rest you then, rest, sad eyes♪

♪Melt not in weeping, while she lies sleeping♪

♪softly, softly, now softly, softly lies sleeping♪

*Loud applause*

Ashley: Lord Worthington?

Frederick: What, Mr. Ramsbury?

Ashley: I asked if you were alright-

Frederick: *sniffling* Why wouldn't I be?

Ashley: Well m'lord, it's just that your eyes are wateri-

Frederick: *wipes eyes* I have no idea what you were referring to Mr. Ramsbury.

Ashley: ....

Laurence: *whispering to himself* Dearest, sweetest angel, how come you've graced this earth with your talents along with my heart. For I know I can never have you-

As you belong to him.

Peregrine: Oh she's done excellent.

Helena: I know! Our dear niece has a voice that would make the angels in heaven weep.

Peregrine: And Lord Worthington...

Helena: *trying not to laugh* Oh hush old man!

Emma: Oh mama! How I wish I could sing like Lady Aurelia.

Elizabeth: You have other talents to make up for that my dear, do not fret. I'm sure your harp skills will have you married off by the end of May!

John: Don't say that.

Elizabeth: Oh John!

William: You should delight us next with your singing, my sweet Martha.

Martha: But I want to sit here and gaze at you and imagine our future together.

William: We'll have a nice little townhouse in the heart of Willowfax. But during the Summer, we shall move to a country house in Henford where our children can go and visit their grandparents every day.

Martha: Oh, how grand!

Patience: Grand indeed! *finishes wine glass in one gulp*

Ashley: My dear, that is your fifth glass! Shouldn't you retire the wine-

Patience: Only after I play my song!

Peregrine: Patience I'm not sure that is a good idea considering the state you're in. You can barely stand up straight.

Helena: Oh dear, please do listen to Mr. Ramsbury and your husband!

Patience: Oh but ma'am, my song will ease my nerves.

Ashley: Oh dear!

*Frederick starts rising from his seat*

Ashley: Oh dear cousin, please, take my seat. I believe I need to be up waiting for my poor wife in case she needs my assistance!

Frederick: *whispering* You sounded lovely.

Aurelia: *whispering* T-thank you.

Frederick: May I speak with you later tonight?

Aurelia: Yes, yes certainly.

Frederick: Meet me in the woods, behind the house once everyone is asleep. Bring Sarah, just in case someone sees us.

Aurelia: Alright.

This made Aurelia more anxious than usual as recurring memories came to her head once more. She and Frederick used to sneak out late during the Summer of 1816 when he was staying with their family at their summer home in Brindleton. They used to enjoy each other's company and stroll along the beach whilst holding hands. They of course could never be intimate or physical in public, as it was considered scandalous, so when they had time to themselves they would hold, and hug each other as long as they could. She had been craving his touch and embrace for the past two years, and truth be told, she still loved him. She never stopped loving him, and now that he was in her presence again she felt her love for him grow stronger than it had been once he was away.

♪♪♪

♪Did you not hear my lady, go down the garden singing♪

♪Blackbird and thrush were silent to hear the alleys ringing, oh saw YOU, not my lady, out in the garden there♪

♪Shaming the rose and lily, for she is twice as fair♪

William: Well she's slightly drunk, but this song is quite heartfelt! Her voice is exquisite, but nothing compared to your cousins.

Martha: Yes..indeed.

from the beginning | previous | next

#ts4 regency #sims 4 regency #sims 4 historical #regency sims 4 #simblr #sims 4 regency era #sims 4 #historical sims 4 #sims 4 historical story #ts4 georgian #ts4 simblr #TCOTD

[anamelessfool]

Cumulus Ghoul adjusted fairly well to the modern era. She had been summoned to tour Earth two times before the twentieth century, and each time afforded her a new exciting glimpse at what wonders those intrepid little humans had invented in the meantime.

None would prepare her, though, for the automobile. 1950: Cumulus' third tour of Earth. The Ministry at that time had a stunning collection of cars, especially a sky blue Chevy Bel Air. Ghouls are entranced by the physical sensations of the earthly realm, and these machines, these curious inventions delighted all of Cumulus' physical being. The smooth, silky texture of the elegant curves of metal thrilled her fingertips. The drifting lines of forms and pinstripes, the shine of chrome and soft white leather dazzled her eyes.

And the power! Papa Emeritus Camino noticed how her whole aura floated with excitement whenever she saw these curious human devices parked or driving as Papa Camino & His Four Horsemen Band toured the country. In an off time he decided to show her how to operate one, and the two of them whipped around the winding mountain roads by the Ministry, really pushing that beautiful car to her limit and laughing all the while. The purr and roar of the engine quickened Cumulus' breath, the soft vibration of the machine thrumming under her seat and at the command of her hands at the wheel dropped a nearly erotic heat in her core.

The complexity! It was the harpsichord from centuries prior that first drew Cumulus' attention to humanity's knack for creating machines, but a car afforded even more excitement for the ghoul's brain than an instrument ever could. The smell of oil, the warmth of an engine thrumming to life from her tender care gave her a satisfaction she had never known. She had nearly wept when it was time for her to return to the Void, and she kept the memories of that beautiful car deep in her heart, bringing it forth to relive them over and over again.

I want to write more about this but I figured this was a good place to stop! More car-enthusiast Cumulus in the future...

My Fic List | My AO3

#ghost fandom #the band ghost #ao3 author #ghost scenes from the void #ghost band fic #nameless ghouls #nameless ghouls headcanons #cumulus ghoulette #cumulus ghoul #ghost band headcanons

[lforlimbo]

I flora you you fauna me I flesh you I door you and window you you bones me you ocean me you courage me you meteor me I gold key you I extraordinary you you paroxysm me you paroxysm and paradox me I harpsichord you you silently me you mirror me I wristwatch you you mirage me oasis me you bird insect cataract me I lunar you you cumulus me you high tide me I transparent you you twilight me translucent me you empty castle and maze me parallax and parabola me you horizontal and vertical me you oblique me I equinox you I poet you you dance me I particular you you perpendicular and mezzanine me you visible me silhouette me you infinite me indivisible me you irony me I fragile you and ardent you I phonetically you you hieroglyph me you space me and cascade me I cascade you in turn but you you fluid me you comet me you volcanic me we pulverize each other we scandalously each other night and day we each other this very day you tangent me I concentric you you soluble me you insoluble me you asphyxiating and liberating me you heart-beat me you dizzy me ecstasy me you passionately and absolute me I absent you you absurd me I nostril you hair you and hip you you haunt me I breast you I chest your breast then guise you I corset you you odor me you dizzy me you slide I thigh you caress you I quiver you you stride me you unbearable me I amazon you I throat you stomach you skirt you garter you stockings you I Bach you yes I Bach you for harpsichord breast and flute (ii) I trembling you you seduce me absorb me I dispute you I risk you I climb you you skim me I swim you but you, you swirl me you graze me you circle me you flesh leather skin and bite me you black lace me you red slipper me and when you do not heel my senses you crocodile them you whale them you fascinate them you cover me I discover you invent you sometimes you uncover yourself you moist lips me I deliver and delirious you you delirious and passionate me I shoulder you and vertebra you I ankle you eyelash and pupil you and if I do not scapula before my lungs even after you armpit me I breathe you night and day I breathe you I mouth you I palate you I tooth and claw you vulva and eyelid you I breath you groin you blood you neck you I calves you I certain you I cheek and vein you I hands you sweat you tongue you nape you I sail you I shadow you I body and ghost you I retina you in my breath you iris yourself I write you you think me

#gherasimluca #ghérasimluca #poetry #photography #phonephotography #strawberry #strawberriesobsession #stRAWberry #self #lforlimbo #embody

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Kicho's Main Story Chapter 7 Part 2

These translations are not intended as a replacement for the game. Please support cybird by buying their stories. JP SPOILERS under the cut. Expect mistakes.

Kicho: “I cherish you. I can assure you that much.”

Mai: “............”

Kicho: "Stay put. This is the last part."

He put some rouge on the tip of the brush and slowly drew it across my lips, making me hold my breath and shiver a little at the tickling sensation.

(The words he said just now...)

Even though I know I shouldn't, I'm tempted to confirm it with words right now.

Kicho: "Okay. That should do it."

Mai: "Oh..."

Coming back to my senses, I hurriedly bowed to him as he moved away and put away the make-up kit.

Mai: "Thank you for everything."

Kicho: "It's what I wanted to do. Let's head to the hall now."

Mai: "Okay."

I got up and was about to leave the room with him when he suddenly turned around and一

Kicho: "Mai."

Kicho: "It really suits you. You look beautiful."

Mai: "-----!"

With that, he left the room.

(I feel like he's acting somewhat differently than usual.)

(I'll get the wrong idea if he says something like that.)

The sun was already setting when he led me to the hall, and everyone who had already arrived was playing with their instruments.

Mai: "What's that?"

Kicho: "It's from a foreign country. The big instrument there is a harpsichord, and the one next to it is a viola."

(I've never heard these names before, but they all look somewhat familiar.)

(The harpsichord looks just like a piano.)

I listened carefully to his explanation and beautiful melody.

Mai: "Oh."

His eyes met one of the players, who smiled and moved his hands gracefully.

The other players followed suit and began to play their instruments, filling the hall with sweet melodies.

(I've never heard this song before.)

(I never thought the day would come when I would be standing in a place like this.)

The foreign melody was so gentle that it softly enveloped me as I was about to fidget, unable to fit into the space.

Mai: "I almost feel like a hero of some story just by being here."

Kicho: "Story, huh? What kind of story?"

Mai: "I dunno."

Mai: "But it's weird to become the main character. I'm definitely not that kind of person."

Kicho: "It's not weird. Everyone has their own will."

Kicho: "From my point of view, other people are almost just supporting characters, but I'm sure those supporting characters feel the same way."

Kicho: "I'm sure they still do."

With his eyes fixed on me, he held out his hand, and I immediately knew what he meant without being told.

Mai: "Sorry. I've never done this before."

Kicho: "No problem. I'll take the lead."

Mai: “Okay.”

I nervously took his hand, and he immediately pulled me closer.

Kicho: “Relax. Think of this as a rehearsal and don’t look away from me.”

Mai: “............”

I looked up at him, and he put his hand on my back and stroked it gently, my heart beating loudly.

(I still get nervous even if he says that.)

I moved my feet to follow the beautiful melody.

(Wow. I can dance properly.)

From the outsider’s perspective, I might look like I was moving awkwardly, but still, I looked up at him, and he smiled gently.

Kicho: “You’re doing great.”

Mai: “I’m glad. Hehehe.”

I was so happy that I couldn’t help but smile.

(Hm? It seems like the tune has gotten faster.)

Mai: “Kyaah!?”

I tried to keep up, but I ended up stepping on the hem of my dress, almost losing my balance as I did so.

Kicho: "Are you okay?"

He put all his strength into his hand behind my back and held me closer.

Mai: "T-Thank you."

Kicho: "The song just ended. The next song is gonna be a difficult one."

Mai: "Okay."

Kicho: "Mai? What's wrong?"

Mai: "I'm sorry. Just a little more."

I remained frozen on the dancefloor and buried my face in his chest.

(His arms are so warm.)

His large chest, which was hard to get away from, was not only warm but also smelled nice.

(I've been busy worrying about other things that I forgot to put on my perfume.)

His fleeting scent, drowned by the sweet fragrance he always wore, seemed like it would easily fade from my memory as soon as I moved away from him.

(I'm glad I forgot about it, even though I really shouldn't have because I got to know him one more time.)

Feeling regretful, I smiled and moved away from him.

Mai: "It's all right now. Sorry for doing that all of a sudden."

Kicho: "No, it's fine, but is something wrong?"

Mai: "Yes. I forgot my perfume."

Kicho: “Perfume? I see. So that’s it.”

For some reason, I felt impatient when he nodded, as if he was convinced.

Mai: “Did you notice it?”

(This is embarrassing.)

Kicho: “That’s not it. Rather, don’t put it on tomorrow.”

Kicho: “I don’t really like that kind of strong-scented stuff, to begin with.”

Mai: “But won’t it interfere with your work? It’s for personal appearance, right?”

Kicho: “That was just an excuse. I made you wear it to check your whereabouts.”

Mai: “What?”

Kicho: “That’s why you don’t need it anymore. From tonight onward, you will remain as you are.”

Mai: “That’s...”

(Does that mean he's letting his guard down against me?)

I was happy, but then I felt a prickling pain in my chest.

(No, I shouldn't show it on my face.)

Mai: "I understand. I'll do that tomorrow."

Kicho: "Yeah, then..."

Taking each other's hands, the two of us started dancing again as the tune changed to a gentle one.

(Tomorrow, huh? Why did I lie like that?)

Our shadows cast by the setting sun reached the bottom of the clock as we beautifully danced.

It was like watching a scene at the happy end of a story.

(I wish all of this was just a story.)

(I wish the curtain would fall here so I wouldn’t have to let go of this hand.)

Mai: “*sigh* The night breeze feels nice.”

I went outside by myself, saying I was going to take a break.

As soon as I took a deep breath, my lungs began to fill with air, and the heat inside my body subsided.

(Even so, that was amazing.)

(I knew that Kicho was talented, but I never knew he could memorize so many people’s names and hobbies perfectly.)

(I can only remember the faces of the last few people I talked to.)

As the stars began to shine in the sky, the hall soon became crowded as the guests arrived one by one.

The guests immediately dragged Kicho away, and all I could do was smile next to him, feeling very happy to stand next to him.

(It’s almost time.)

(I need to go to my room, change my clothes, and leave this trading post.)

I wanted to say goodbye to him at least one last time if I could. However, I didn’t have the confidence to pretend anymore.

(Is that really the reason?)

(Or is it because I was afraid that if I said goodbye, I would really never see him again?)

Mai: “I’m so half-hearted and selfish about everything.”

Kicho: “You mean that dance we just had?”

Mai: “Kicho!?”

Kicho: “Dancing like that in front of people, even though it was your first time, was good enough.”

Mai: “I’m not talking about that. Why are you even here?”

(He was just surrounded by guests earlier.)

Kicho: “I was worried about you.”

Kicho: “Wearing something you're not used to, and being in a place like that must be tiring.”

As he approached me, he gently stroked my cheek with the back of his hand, and my skin, exposed to the cool night breeze, felt his warmth instantly.

(He was worried, so he came out.)

(Why?)

Even though I should’ve been happy, my chest tightened, and my resolve almost shattered into pieces at his kindness.

Mai: “Sorry, Um, I got something in my eye.”

Kicho: “You don’t have to fool me anymore.”

Kicho: “It’s time for you to come clean.”

Mai: “What?”

I felt uneasy about his tone, then he sighed and narrowed his eyes.

Kicho: “Don’t tell me you thought I didn’t know you were Nobunaga’s spy.”

Mai: “----!”

Kicho's words made the blood in my body freeze.

I quickly searched for an excuse, but his piercing gaze wouldn't allow me to think, leaving me no choice but to raise the white flag.

Mai: "How long have you known?"

Kicho: "Only now did it turn out to be true."

Mai: "What?"

Kicho: "I had my suspicions for a long time now. I heard that Nobunaga kept a strange woman with him, a princess to be exact, three months ago."

Kicho: "Other than that, no one knew her background. There was absolutely no information about her."

Kicho: "You told me before that you came to this period three months ago."

(That's when I almost got caught and told him my other secret.)

Kicho: "I had my suspicions but couldn't quite put my finger on it."

Kicho: "There are no signs that you're working together or in contact with the outside world, but I became convinced when I saw your reaction."

Mai: "So you're playing like a fool."

I want to smack myself for my inability to keep the information.

Mai: "Are you going to kill me?"

Kicho: "You came here with that resolve, right?"

Mai: "That's..."

I looked down, unable to nod my head.

(I thought I knew what I was doing when I came here, but I was naive.)

(I wasn't prepared at all.)

Kicho: "I see. It looks like you didn't have that."

Kicho: “Well, it’s tough for a peace-loving person like you to go on a mission where your life is at stake. I know that because your world is full of such people.”

Kicho: “But I find it even more puzzling.”

Mai: “What is?”

Kicho: “Why did Nobunaga send a woman like you?”

Kicho: “There was no other suspicious person in the trading post, so you’re the only spy.”

Kicho: “Also, this is not something you can entrust to someone who has only been in the turbulent world for three months.”

(I see. Well, he’s right.)

Kicho: “Mai. Tell me the truth.”

Kicho: “Why did you come to me?”

Mai: “That’s...”

Mai: “Because I wanted to live.”

Kicho: “What?”

Mai: “I was a nobody here in this period.”

Mai: “I felt that if I could help everyone, even if just a little, then I’d feel like my existence had some meaning.”

Kicho: “You said the same thing when we talked at the inn.”

Mai: “Yes. You confronted me that night and saved my life.”

Mai: “So I wanted to face you properly too.”

Kicho: “.............”

Kicho: “I see. I understand.”

Kicho: “Even though you weren’t ready to die, you wanted to live and were ready to cling to life.”

Kicho: “That’s not a bad thing. It’s rather a good thing.”

Mai: “Kicho...”

Kicho: “But the clock is ticking.”

Mai: “----!”

He pulled out a pistol, which he seemed to have hidden in his pocket, and pointed it straight at me.

However, he only kept the pistol steady and stared at me sharply.

(There’s no reason to forgive an enemy who lied to him.)

(I know that, but...)

I’m scared. I don’t want to die.

All I can hear is fear and screaming, growing louder and louder in my head.

Mai: “Um, I...”

Kicho: “I know you’re hiding there. Come out.”

Mai: “Huh?”

I heard a rustling in the bushes behind me, where he pointed his gun.

Mitsuhide: “Oh? You noticed?”

Mai: “Mitsuhide!?”

Mitsuhide: “What’s the matter? Is it that strange that I’m here?”

Mai: “Well, yeah. Because it’s still...”

Mitsuhide: “I thought I’d help you get out of here first.”

Mitsuhide smirked and stood in front of me to protect me, then pointed his gun at Kicho.

Mitsuhide: “Anyway, thank you for helping our lass out.”

Mitsuhide: "It looks like you’ve learned a lot at the trading post, but it’s time for us to take you back.”

Kicho: "Do I look like the kind of idiot who'd let this place slip away?"

Mitsuhide: "No. That's why we're pointing our guns at each other."

(What the hell am I supposed to do in this situation?)

Confused, I looked at them alternately.

All hell will break loose if they both pull the trigger.

Mai: "Wait!"

Mitsuhide & Kicho: "-----!"

I jumped between them and spread my hands out, almost losing my footing with both guns pointed at me, but I managed to hold on.

Kicho: "What? You're protecting that man?"

Mai: "No!"

Mai: "I know it's my fault that this is happening, but is pointing weapons at each other the only way to solve the problem?"

Kicho: "What do you mean?"

Mai: "You've been suspicious of me for a long time, yet you didn't point a gun at me immediately."

Mai: "You talked to me, so I got to know you, and how kind you are."

Kicho: "I'm human too. I have feelings. I feel joy, anger, sorrow, and maybe I have said and done things you might think are kind."

Kicho: "But what you have seen is only a part of it."

Kicho: "That's why we are in conflict. There's no way for us to reconcile."

Mai: "Still!"

I tried to argue, but I was at a loss for words.

The two of them were cousins, and they had once been comrades in the Oda army.

Even though they had spent much more time together than I had, they were still pointing their weapons at each other because of their different goals.

(That's right. We live in a time like this.)

Kicho: "But not this time."

Mai: "Eh?"

Kicho: "I will lower my weapon depending on your choice."

Mai: "What choice!?"

Kicho: "Stay here with me."

Kicho: "If you do that, I'm willing to let this guy off the hook."

Previous Part╏Masterlist╏Next Part

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen kicho #ikesen kichou #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen jp #ikesen spoilers #ikesen #cybird #ikesen translation

[fantodsdhrit]

in the still faint light of mechanical sycamore heart as deserves what turns

over: i'll see you

now in optical dusk snuff across the tiny square you whisper: my words hit deep light as my arm beneath your

gazelle hair with

your body roped around my sinus silhouette: what time has is impatience an uprising in mustardfield a comet inspiration simple

thoughts perform

summersault like

carnations acquire

books with no pages a picture of you with capital smile cheeks wetter than starfish: never caress

bach in minor key

change alkoholfrei

and there is music

harpsichord in an unfurnished apartment but wait till i unseal my lips to hold ourselves together

in riverwalls: you

featherbed incarnate

every single burial

defeated by eyelids

#poetry #dhrit #appalachian sunshine

[lovesongbracket]

Reminder: Vote based on the song, not the artist or specific recording! The tracks referenced are the original artist, aside from a few rare cases where a cover is the most widely known.

Lyrics, videos, info, and notable covers under the cut. (Spotify playlist available in pinned post)

I Won't Say (I'm in Love)

Written By: Alan Menken & David Zippel

Artist: Susan Egan with Roz Ryan, Cheryl Freeman, Lillias White, Vanéese Y. Thomas & LaChanze for Hercules

Released: 1997

From the 1997 Disney movie Hercules, “I Won’t Say (I’m In Love)” is the movie’s featured love ballad. After a romantic date with Hercules, Meg expresses her conflicting emotions through song (with some back up from the Muses). Hurt before and technically working for Herc’s arch nemesis, this song demonstrates Meg’s reluctance to get into another relationship that (in her mind) can only end badly.

[MEG] If there's a prize for rotten judgment I guess I've already won that No man is worth the aggravation That's ancient history, been there, done that [MUSES, MEG] Who d'you think you're kiddin'? He's the earth and heaven to you Try to keep it hidden Honey, we can see right through you (Oh no) Girl, you can't conceal it We know how you feel and who you're thinkin' of [MEG] Oh No chance, no way I won't say it, no, no [MUSES] You swoon, you sigh Why deny it? Uh-oh [MEG] It's too cliché I won't say I'm in love [MUSES] Shoo-do, shoo-do, ooh [MEG, with MUSES] I thought my heart had learned its lesson It feels so good when you start out My head is screaming, "Get a grip, girl" "Unless you're dyin' to cry your heart out" Oh [MUSES, MEG] You keep on denying Who you are and how you're feeling Baby, we're not buying Hon, we saw you hit the ceiling (Oh no) Face it like a grown-up When ya gonna own up That you got, got, got it bad? [MEG] Whoa No chance, no way I won't say it, no, no [MUSES] Give up, give in Check the grin, you're in love [MEG] This scene won't play I won't say I'm in love [MUSES] You're doin' flips Read our lips, you're in love [MEG, MUSES] You're way off base (Shoo-do, shoo-do) I won't say it (She won't say it, no) Get off my case (Sha-da, sha-da) I won't say it [MUSES] Girl, don't be proud It's okay, you're in love [MEG] Oh At least, out loud I won't say I'm in love [MUSES] Shoo-do, shoo-do, shoo-do, shoo-do Sha-la-la-la-la-la, ah

God Only Knows

Written By: Brian Wilson & Tony Asher

Artist: The Beach Boys

Released: 1966

“God Only Knows” is a song by American rock band The Beach Boys. It is the eighth track on the group’s 11th studio album, Pet Sounds, and one of their most widely recognized songs. “God Only Knows” was composed and produced by Brian Wilson. Tony Asher helped Brian with the lyrics. Carl Wilson sang lead, and Bruce Johnston sang harmony vocals with Brian in the outro. The song broke new ground in many ways. It was one of the first commercial songs to use the word ‘God’ in its title. As producer, Brian Wilson used many unorthodox instruments, including the harpsichord and French horns that are heard in the song’s famous introduction. Although The Beatles engaged in a friendly rivalry with the Beach Boys based on mutual respect, Paul McCartney called this song the best song ever written.

[Verse 1: Carl Wilson] I may not always love you But long as there are stars above you You never need to doubt it I'll make you so sure about it [Refrain: Carl Wilson] God only knows what I'd be without you [Verse 2: Carl Wilson] If you should ever leave me Well, life would still go on, believe me The world could show nothing to me So what good would living do me? [Refrain: Carl Wilson] God only knows what I'd be without you [Interlude: Carl Wilson, Brian Wilson, and Bruce Johnston] Ooh, ooh Do, do, do, do, do, do, do Bow, buh-bow, buh-bow, buh-bow (Do, do, do, do) Buh-bow, buh-bow, buh-bow (Do, do, do, do, do, do) Buh-bow, buh-bow, buh-bow, buh-bow (Do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do) [Refrain: Carl Wilson] God only knows what I'd be without you [Verse 3: Carl Wilson] If you should ever leave me Well, life would still go on, believe me The world could show nothing to me So what good would living do me? [Chorus: Carl Wilson] God only knows what I'd be without you [Outro: Carl Wilson with Brian Wilson and Bruce Johnston] God only knows what I'd be without you God only knows what I'd be without you God only knows what I'd be without you (What I'd be) God only knows what I'd be without you (God only knows) God only knows what I'd be without you (What I'd be) God only knows what I'd be without you (God only knows) God only knows what I'd be without you (What I'd be) God only knows what I'd be without you (God only knows) God only knows what I'd be without you (What I'd be) God only knows what I'd be without you (God only knows) God only knows what I'd be without you (What I'd be) God only knows what I'd be without you (God only knows)

#i won't say (i'm in love) #susan egan #hercules #beach boys #the beach boys #brian wilson #god only knows #polls #poll tournament #poll bracket #tournament #bracket #lovesongbracket #round2

[holycatsandrabbits]

Part 18 of Giant Post of Completed Good Omens Human AU’s: September 2022

Thank you to all the creators who bring us so much joy AND to the readers who support the creators! <3

Also! A searchable list of all of my Good Omens human AU recs.

You can use it to find fics where Aziraphale is a librarian, or fics with Ineffable Wives, etc.

More of my Completed Good Omens Human AU Recs on Tumblr

More Good Omens recs from me here: Dannye's fic recs and Dannye's artist recs

And here's me: Ao3 ~ DannyeChase.com ~ Linktree ~ Upcoming fics ~ Serial romance

**************

Series: (not all of these series are complete)

Billy Joel AUs (in no particular order) by @journeytogallifrey Rated T (Series contains unrelated fics: 1. Pianist C works in the gay bar A owns; 2. C & A are childhood friends)

Caedmon's Fergusverse by sheendav, with an OC by @caedmonfaith (Ao3 Caedmon) Rated T-E (C & A are introduced by a helpful friend in common)

Single Fics:

!False (It's Funny Because It's True) by by @mirjam-writes (Ao3 MirjamOmens) 6471 words, Rated E (C & A are co-workers)

An Arrangement of True Minds by @sodiumazideandothertoxins (Ao3 Sodium_Azide) 12,539 words, Rated T (C & A are in an arranged marriage)

because thinking makes it so by @naromoreau and @summerofspock 41,386 words, Rated E (C & A are co-workers)

Best Laid Plans by @arielavader 36,538 words, Rated E (C & A are college students)

Black and White Sunshine by @aziraamane (Ao3 Azira_Amane) 58,475 words, Rated E (A meets C on a work trip)

Body Man by @caedmonfaith (Ao3 Caedmon) 45,875 words, Rated E (C is assistant to writer/showrunner A)

Climb Every Mountain by @naromoreau 12,154 words, Rated E (Dad A & female nanny C)

Dressed in Purple  by GothRockFairy and @just-an-angel-and-his-demon (Ao3 KaytheJay) 25,108 words, Rated T (C & A are princes in an arranged marriage)

Drunk on Love by @hkblack 1615 words, Rated T (C & A are friends)

Everything But The Kitchen Sink by @bornonthesavage (Ao3 KiaraMGrey) 17,818 words, Rated E (Handyman C & homeowner A)

Fakes and Forgeries by Solimette and @waldos-art (Ao3 WaldosAkimbo) 156,464 words, Rated E (Art forger C & art conservator A)

Godfathers by AppleSeeds 4447 words, Rated T (Nanny C & gardener A)

Harder, Faster, Deeper (Save Lives) by AppleSeeds 3883 words, Rated T (First aid trainer A and trainee C)

Hate to Break it to You by @melibemusca (Ao3 Melibe) 1735 words, Rated T (Beelzebub & Gabriel are co-workers)

Heavenly Hands by @zehwulf 7513 words, Rated E (Female lawyer C & male sex worker A)

here to stay is a new bird by @tastymoves (Ao3 Sway) 6716 words, Rated E (C is a reindeer and A is Santa at a photo booth)

High Season by snae_b 46,756 words, Rated E (C & A in an AU based on the TV show Below Deck)

I 2 I by @caspianthegeek 1987 words, Rated G (A hires C as a date for a family dinner)

i bet if we dusted her heart for fingerprints we would only find yours  by @two-hands-toward-the-sun (Ao3 marveling_under_an_open_sky) 791 words, Rated G (Ineffable wives: C & A are married)

Inevitable Con by @journeytogallifrey 3155 words, Rated G (C & A meet while cosplaying Good Omens)

I Knew I Loved You by AppleSeeds 90,575 words, Rated E (C & A become friends online)

King Me by @moveslikebucky 1818 words, Rated E (C & A are co-workers)

Love, Syncopation, and Other Key Elements of Jazz by rev02a 38,570 words, Rated T (C & A are a jazz duo)

Loving You Slow by @tawnyontumblr (Ao3 TawnyOwl95) 46,175 words, Rated E (Bartender C and club owner A)

Man to Man by leukozyna 61,517 words, Rated E (C & A are co-workers)

Negotiation by rev02a 224,240 words, Rated E (Omega C and Alpha A in the Regency)

Of Harpsichord and Falsetto by @saretton 105,768 words, Rated E (Rock guitarist C and pianist A)

Of Size and other Matters by @janara7 (Ao3 LCwrites) 28,204 words, Rated E (C & A meet via a wrong-number text)

Private Gig by @madrabbitsociety (Ao3 madrabbitgirl) 17,739 words, not rated (Rock star C & bookseller A)

Rescued by @fenrislorsrai 788 words, Rated G (Cat rescuer C & animal shelter worker A)

Sacrament by snae_b 5549 words, Rated E (Sex worker C & priest A)

Seven Minutes In Hell by AppleSeeds 4597 words, Rated T (C & A are college students)

Sinful and Forbidden Pleasures by @arielavader 8613 words, Rated E (C & A have an extramarital affair)

Slip and Fall by @madrabbitsociety (Ao3 madrabbitgirl) 2687 words, not rated (C & A meet in pottery class)

Something Borrowed by @feraltuxedo 8199 words, Rated M (C & A have a one night stand)

Sorry (Not Sorry) by @ineffablefool 2373 words, Rated T (C & A are childhood friends reunited)

Sunk On You by @ambrasue (Ao3 Ambra_Sue) 3141 words, Rated T (C takes his nephew Adam to a swim class taught by A)

Sympathetic Magic by KissMyAsthma 4315 words, Rated T (Magician A is a guest on a morning TV show hosted by C)

That Gay Pirate Show by @tawnyontumblr (Ao3 TawnyOwl95) 28,946 words, Rated E (C & A are actors playing captains on a pirate TV show)

That of the Obvious by @just-an-angel-and-his-demon (Ao3 KaytheJay) 2213 words, Rated G (C & A are professors)

The Best Man by @quefish77 (Ao3 Quefish) 1455 words, Rated G (A is the best man at C's wedding)

The blesséd language of flowers by @elfontheshelves (Ao3 elf_on_the_shelf) 59, 554 words, Rated E (Ineffable wives: C & A are rival gardeners in a small town)

The Fortune Teller by AppleSeeds 6513 words, Rated T (A tries to break C from a curse)

The Layover by @ineffable-writer (Ao3 ThatWriterKid) 1321 words, Rated G (Pilot C & coffee shop owner A)

THE SUMMER FESTIVAL by Aunt_Agenda 2143 words, Rated G (A meets singer C at a music festival)

The Unexpected Benefits of Using Rideshare Services by @quefish77 (Ao3 Quefish) 5951 words, Rated E (Rideshare driver A & passenger C)

Through the Looking Glass by @naromoreau 6548 words, Rated E (Building owner C & window washer A)

You can stay in my bed, if you like by AppleSeeds 3294 words, Rated T (C & A are roommates)

#Dannye’s GO Human AU rec lists #GOHAU #Good Omens #Ineffable Husbands #Ineffable wives #Aziraphale #Crowley #Good Omens human AU #Good Omens fanfic

[semordnilap]

I analyzed the opening title sequence for Good Omens S2 and thought I share my findings including nice little hidden fun bits and possible S3 clues I haven't seen anywhere else.

/GO S2 spoilers ahead/

Firstly, Gabriel with the box or just the box appears in basically every scene. It's like "Where's Waldo?", but a Good Omens version. Can you find them all? Also, there are ducks sprinkled throughout the whole sequence.

As per scenes...

Opening scene/cave: When Crowley lit the matchstick, there was a fly flying around.

Job: Crowley lights all sheep up with a snap of his fingers. Also, the hill with sheep is covered in parchment containing God's permission that Crowley rolled out for Aziraphale's sake.

The Graveyard: There are many graves: Everyday (= song), Jane Austen (= the notorious thief), Adam (= Eve's Adam), Beelzebub shell (= new actor), BUT ALSO Peter Paintball (= perhaps a nod to S1?).

The SoHo: The heart rain is a nice nod to Crowley's words "get them wet so they fall in love". LPs are everywhere: LP garlands adorning the streets, LP hills, LP stacked by the jukebox,...

The Elevators: The BANNERS in the crowd. HELLO, S3 CLUES and THEORIES.

The most legible is The 2nd Coming, BUT there is another one, in the scene coming up the hill in the end, which possibly reads (3) Thy Kingdom Come. (Let's not forget the Thy Kingdom Airlines, in The Universe scene, which ties nicely with this).

The Cinema: A funny detail is that a synonym for The 2nd Coming is Parousia which is a neon pink sign at the cinema (by the popcorn).

There is a big blue coffee cup in the crowd for those finding deeper meaning in the cup. But again there's a harpsichord too, so... :D

Did you find any other gems or clues?

#good omens #go2 spoilers #good omens season 2 #season 2 #good omens theory #good omens season 3 #clues

[crowholtz]

hii! i absolutely adore helene crow!! you can answer as many/little as you want but here you go (and ty for the ask too)! 🧡🧡

-----

✈️ AIRPLANE — does your oc like traveling, or do they consider themselves a more homey person?

💍 RING — does your oc have any piercings? do they want any (more) piercings?

🎻 VIOLIN — does your oc play any instruments? what is their skill level (beginner/intermediate/advanced/virtuoso/etc)?

🩹 ADHESIVE BANDAGE — does your oc have any physical and/or mental disabilities?

🎶 MUSICAL NOTES — what type of music does your oc like? do they listen to music very often?

🚫 PROHIBITED — does your oc drink/smoke? do they do it regularly, or is it more on occasion or for special events?

🌈 RAINBOW — what is your oc's sexual orientation/gender identity? what pronouns do they use?

🐶 DOG FACE — does your oc have any pets?

🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits?

💘 HEART WITH ARROW — what and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them?

💚 GREEN HEART — does your oc prefer being inside or outside?

🖤 BLACK HEART — has your oc killed or seriously wounded anyone before? have they broken someone's heart and/or broken someone's trust?

🍸 COCKTAIL GLASS — what is your oc's favorite alcoholic drink, if they can drink?

😖 CONFOUNDED FACE — is your oc an introvert, an extrovert, or an ambivert? do they let people in easily, or are they more reserved?

🧐 FACE WITH MONOCLE — is your oc more logical or emotional?

😓 DOWNCAST FACE WITH SWEAT — is your oc open-minded or stubborn? are they inquisitive or do they prefer to keep to their bubble of knowledge?

oh my GODS these are so many questions you're too kind. I'm going to answer them all because Helene is my babygirl

putting this on a read more bc it got long hehe

✈️ AIRPLANE — does your oc like traveling, or do they consider themselves a more homey person?

Helene hasn't traveled much in her life. She grew up in partially in a tiny fishing village on the Sword Coast, and then in the orphanage at the Citadel of Strategic Militancy not too far from Baldur's Gate. She'd visit the city every so often. The furthest she traveled was for the mission her church sent her on to kill some werewolves... where she ended up being sucked into Barovia lmao. Helene does not have much worldly experience. I'd say, while Helene does like flying through the skies, she doesn't like going far from home, wherever that may be. She likes to remain close to those she loves.

💍 RING — does your oc have any piercings? do they want any (more) piercings?

Just standard earlobe piercings! Much to my chagrin, Helene isn't one for body mods like tattoos or piercings.

🎻 VIOLIN — does your oc play any instruments? what is their skill level (beginner/intermediate/advanced/virtuoso/etc)?

Yes! Harpsichord (virtuoso), piano (virtuoso), cello (advanced). Helene's mother saved up for a harpsichord for Helene to start practicing at a very young age, because she had aspirations for her daughter to be in the upper echelons of society one day. Helene learned the cello during her time in the church, and I also associate the cello as her instrument theme.

🩹 ADHESIVE BANDAGE — does your oc have any physical and/or mental disabilities?

So I love translating some of my own and other real-life disabilities to my OCs, because I feel like they need to be represented and explored more in fictional narratives. Helene's unique physiology (which is a whole can of worms in and of itself that I could talk about) translates, basically, into her having Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, as well as Fibromyalgia. As far mental disorders, Helene has ADHD, Autism, Depression, PTSD, BPD, and **(OTHER PLAYERS IN MY CAMPAIGN DONT READ THIS)** Schizophrenia. The last one has actually been one I've been doing a lot of research on and talking to people about since I don't personally have it, but it's actually something that's recently triggered for her from the stresses and horrors of Barovia, having already run in her family. She's having a hard time figuring out if it's just Barovia being Barovia or her own head, which adds an extra layer to it all.

🎶 MUSICAL NOTES — what type of music does your oc like? do they listen to music very often?

She adores music! She's a goth, melancholic, macabre kinda girl, so she loves anything Strahd plays on his organ :p She's also fond of the battle hymns her Church taught her. She loves singing.

🚫 PROHIBITED — does your oc drink/smoke? do they do it regularly, or is it more on occasion or for special events?

You will very often see Helene with a glass of wine in her hand. She has a tendency to indulge to make herself feel better or forget the horrors. Usually in wine and true vampire blood (which has narcotic-life effects).

🌈 RAINBOW — what is your oc's sexual orientation/gender identity? what pronouns do they use?

cis female (she/her), demisexual!

🐶 DOG FACE — does your oc have any pets?

Milivoj, Viktor, Deyja... Not in the traditional, well-adjusted sense. She has an animated Strahd puppet she keeps as a pet. She also has her familiar, a celestial that usually takes the form of a Barovian Duskrat. Then she has her pegasus, Bluebell, but she doesn't know if she considers her a pet... Helene's always wanted a dog, though. She loves dogs.

🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits?

Hmm... questionable or neutral? I'm not sure how to answer this. Let's say...

Control freak. Feeling out of control is a no-go for Helene. She has to know things, she has to be directing things the way she wants them to go.

Politeness and social etiquette are very important to her, which is funny considering her dislike of politics. She was raised with a very heavy hand of etiquette. She is somehow both blunt and polite. To an extent.

Abhors politics. She's not great at talking to people or influencing people, and she's a terrible liar. She prefers when people are upfront and honest with her so she doesn't have to play guessing games with them.

💘 HEART WITH ARROW — what and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them?

Strahd Strahd Strahd Strahd Strahd Strahd. Love in general is the most important thing to Helene. Getting love, giving love. She has a number of paramours, all so special to her in their own ways. She's possessive and deeply loving with all of them. But Strahd/Vasili feel like her soulmates.

💚 GREEN HEART — does your oc prefer being inside or outside?

Inside. Calmer inside. Cozier. Darker. Less overwhelming. The only exception is when she's flying in the skies, then that's where she feels most at home.

🖤 BLACK HEART — has your oc killed or seriously wounded anyone before? have they broken someone's heart and/or broken someone's trust?

well... that's where you're getting into the reason Helene turned into a fallen aasimar. to make a long story SUPER short - Helene's village was burned and eradicated by raiders when she was 11. After spending two years at an orphanage, Helene decided she wanted to take revenge, a strong desire for 'justice' in her mind. She snuck out from the orphanage, found the group of raiders and where they called 'home', and killed all of them one by one. Problem was, she wanted eye for an eye. When they killed her village, they left no one standing. So Helene slaughtered their non-combatant women and children too. Real Anakin moment, babe. Anyway she was so distraught and hated herself so much for it, she self-actualized her divinity away! Woo!

🍸 COCKTAIL GLASS — what is your oc's favorite alcoholic drink, if they can drink?

Red wine. She's taken a liking to Red Dragon Crush, but some of the best wine she's ever had was a very sweet and fruity red Strahd had procured specially for her.

😖 CONFOUNDED FACE — is your oc an introvert, an extrovert, or an ambivert? do they let people in easily, or are they more reserved?

Introvert. Helene loves getting praise and attention, but she doesn't let people in easily at all. Trust is hard. Trust is giving up control.

Also she thinks most people are stupid. She's a snob like that.

🧐 FACE WITH MONOCLE — is your oc more logical or emotional?

That's a fun one for her! She fluctuates between extremes, which includes very logical or very emotional. She's sort of ruled by her emotions, but the tries to act and think with logic.

😓 DOWNCAST FACE WITH SWEAT — is your oc open-minded or stubborn? are they inquisitive or do they prefer to keep to their bubble of knowledge?

She's actually pretty open-minded for most things. She does get stubborn about some of her own personal issues and flaws, but she's actually extremely curious. She wants to learn EVERYTHING. She soaks up things like a sponge. She likes talking to monsters and evil people cordially to get a view into their minds and motivations (as well as strengths and weaknesses)

#ch: helene crow #cos blogging