#I started a volta fic like last year

[teeth-farie]

Hey so I just reread a bunch of your gore fics and that got me back into The Arcana but I’ve always loved the courtiers and there’s NEVER any good fics with them 😭 (at least none that I can find)

So I’m gonna talk to you about Valdemar cause I think you’ve said before you enjoy them but you can ignore this if you want. I can’t remember who posted it but I remember there was this art of them splitting themself apart starting from their crotch and it had a caption of like “gotta spread wider for MC..” or something and omfg

I think about that so often like damn yes I want to tie them to their own vivisection table and cut them open in the sexiest way possible. Just playing around in whatever guts this demon has and getting covered in their blood while they watch? Sign me tf up please

AHH YEAHH LOVE ME SOME VALDY

I’ve seen that art!!! I can’t remember the artists name off the top of my head but I think I’ve reblogged from them before

Also one of my friends brought up that one dissection girl story from junji ito and yeah that’s what valdemar would look like on the inside. They’re like “come cut me open, mc, if you’re so curious” and so you do and they’ve got fucking. Eyeballs and teeth in there

(And also valdemar watching you investigate and grope their insides, an unfamiliar heat rising to their face and a new feeling in their cored gut)

[measuringbliss]

I challenged @headgehug, and thus was challenged. My answer to those Disco Elysium questions that have been going around.

Who is your favourite character apart from Harry and Kim? Okay, that's a difficult first question. I did a Tier List after my playthrough and I mostly stand by it, though some characters would be different (Lilienne and Ruby would be higher since I actually got to interact more deeply with them). It's a difficult choice because I love a lot of them for completely different reasons. I think it would be between Evrart, Joyce and Gaston. Gaston is absolutely adorable, Evrart is a wonderful chessmaster I really like, and Joyce is Joyce. Maybe Joyce wins. (The Dicemaker is also very marking, oddly enough.) (Honestly going through my screenshots, Joyce definitely wins. She has a lot of great lines and she's also quirky af, going along with your weird answers.)

What is the one skill you would use to best describe yourself? If I let myself be defined by ADHD (and it is, honestly, a huge part of my being and conducts my behavior), probably Electrochemistry. I crave stimulation and I'm weak to sugar urges. I don't do drugs and that's mainly because I know if I started, I wouldn't be able to stop. Alternatively, Inland Empire and Conceptualization. Which, honestly, are still part of the ADHD umbrella, just less evidently so I guess.

Do you have a favourite Copotype and political alignment and if so, which one? Not really. I was pretty honest in my first playthrough and ended up being a Communist and a Sorry/Boring Cop. To be fair, it's hard not to apologize every five second when you see... how much stuff happened. 2nd playthrough I tried to be a capitalist but around the midway point I ended up being a Communist again. I was more of a Artful/Fancy Cop though. Next time I'll try being an idiot (fascist). I'd say my first archetype was my favorite.

What is one thing you don’t like about the story or that could have been done better? The true culprit, obviously. I've not hidden my distate for them one bit. Worst part of the game. Boring, uninteresting, they may fit the game's themes but----it's just. ugh. I've seen that kind of stuff, I got it.

What is a popular fan interpretation that you don’t like? I haven't delved into the fandom much so I don't have anything in mind.

What do you love about the game? What's not to love?

Is there any type of fan content that you wish there would be more of? See my answer for 5) but there's never enough meta. I hope my Underwear Meta contribution made a difference. DE needs more fanfic, more fanart, more everything. Gimme those sweet Lilienne/Joyce fics!

What is your favourite line from the game? Joyce before she goes away: "One last thing, Lieutenant Du Bois/nameless detective." She starts the engine. "I've given the matter much thought and come to this conclusion: You're not an amnesiac. You're *insane*. I know -- because I, too, am insane. I just hide my illness better. And I'm rich." 1. Harry: "How do you keep it together?" Joyce: "The same strict psychological regimen the eighth admiral developed when he crossed the pale and discovered this isola -- the *Volta do Mar*. It's used by interisolary travellers and other troubled souls even to this day." Volition (Easy): "You could use a little of it yourself." 2. Harry: "What do you have?" Joyce: "I'm over-exposed, baby. My travels take me through the pale dozens of times a year. I've got the longing -- and I've got it *bad*." She points to her heart. She would die to return to it. The pale. The past. Anything one can return to. 3. Harry: "Isn't *everybody* a little insane?" Joyce: "No, detective -- no one's as insane as you." +BONUS: Joyce: She smiles. "Watch out for yourselves. They will strike soon." I realize it's an entire scene rather than a line, but there's no line in particular that I can designate, it's the whole moment for me. I feel like I relate hard to this feeling of being, well not insane, but different in a lot of ways, and in ways that make my life difficult, and in ways that a lot of people simply don't/can't get. So having Joyce say to me that she not only can understand me but related to me felt very good to my broken mind. And she can't be fixed, she can only continue to live with it, like other "travellers and troubled souls". Not only that, but she's longing for it, and she has a yearning feeling of nostalgia. I'm prone to that too, or I would be if I hadn't forgotten most of my school years. "Anything one can return to." She needs her anchors. I'm still puzzled by her "on one's insane as you", but I feel like it's a compliment on Joyce's part. She's appreciating Harry (my)'s weirdness and giving it legitimacy, in some way. Appreciation with your issue, not in spite of. And then she asks Harry (and Kim if he's there) to watch out for themselves, before leaving. She truly cares, even though you're a sad excuse of a human being. She truly cares. So that whole exchange, really.

Do you have a favour political vision quest? I only did the Moralist one I think, and I couldn't succeed but it was, um, it had a very weird starting point and it was a mess, but I liked what little I did of it, though it felt really depressing.

What are your headcanons for what happens after the end of the game? Everyone is gay, gets married and lives happily ever after.

Do you want more official games and stories set in Elysium and if so, which ones? No, I think it works nicely as a single unit.

What are your headcanons for pre-Martinaise Harry? Definitely in a relationship with Vicquemare at some point.

What is your least favourite aspect of the game mechanics? Loading screens, though they got MUCH (90%) faster in the latest update on Switch. Also it's hard to be nuanced in that game. Also it's really hard to get into the Thought Cabinet because it just... isn't of much use. In my 2nd playthrough I decided to use it as much as possible, it wasn't particularly worth it.

What was the moment that touched you most while playing? Joyce's departure, as written above. It hit hard in subtle ways. It's rare that I feel understood this much by a videogame character (or even someone at all). The scene where you have to announce the death of a guy to her husband (and then, on a subsequent playthrough, finding that woman in the early days and talking to her knowing perfectly well what would happen. fuck.) is a hard scene, very memorable.

When playing it for the first time, did you go in blind or not? Is there anything you would want to change about your first playthrough? 100% blind. I just knew Kim Kitsuragi existed, and that you could die quickly or something. Wouldn't have changed a thing since my 2nd playthrough covered new stuff.

Wild Pines vs. The Débardeurs’ Union – what do you think of the Evrarts and who do you root for? Oh I absolutely love everyone in this conflict. They're all fascinating as fuck, I'm rooting for both camps at once because Joyce and the Evrarts are so interesting and charismatic.

What skill is the most fun/coolest/most interesting to set as your signature skill? Encyclopedia on 2nd playthrough was nice. I'll try a physical build next time...

What is your opinion on the Elysium lore? I don't think I really care about lore? But also the Pale is very interesting. It's a shame the one character who lived through a lot of moments in a very involving way (Culprit-san) is also awfully uninteresting. There's potential, but burying it in a looooooong ramble about how women are sl*ts and men are simps and the world is decadent and nothing matters or make sense and nobody's worth shit or whatever, I don't think it's particularly captivating. If I want to see an asshole I can just go to r/The_Don*ld or JK Terfing tweets.

Which character arc or piece of lore would you have wanted to be explored more in depths? Everything. I hate that once you've completed somebody's questioning, you don't really get more out of them. It's unsatisfying.

How would you position yourself politically in Revachol? Def Communist.

Is there something that you missed on your first playthrough that completely blew your mind and/or changed how you view the story when you found out it existed later? Not really, but the Church storyline really was an entire third of the game, huh? Spending more time with some characters was nice though. This game really isn't about blowing your mind.

What would your own stats be? Intellect: 4 Psyche: 5 (for the wrong reasons, hello ADHD) Physique: 2 Motorics: 1

What is a thing in fanworks that you eat up every single time? See above answers.

What is your interpretation of the title of the game? As a French person, Elysium immediately calls to mind the Elysée, be it the Presidential Palace or the Champs-Elysées streets full of shops. It's about opulence, grandeur, capitalism. And then you've got Disco. Disco was a major trend born not out of typical people, but from black and queer people. In this regard, Disco is fundamentally opposed to Elysium. Fire and water. The oppressed and the oppressor. And in the game, you're a cop, an official cop, investigating in a place where the locals neither acknowledge your official status nor want you there. Two conflicting forces.

Favourite piece of in-game art (graffiti, poetry etc.)? @headgehug rightly mentioned "Un jour, je serai de retour près de toi" which is absolutely beautiful. My favorite would be "Something beautiful is going to happen". I think it's an incredible sentence.

Just ramble freely about the game and let me know your thoughts.

I've talked too much already lmao.

[jam-is-my-food]

never gonna give you up (a scythe astley fic)

when scythe curie was just a junior scythe, the beloved scythe rick astley—the only scythe who was ever allowed to communicate with the thunderhead—self-gleaned. marie will never forget her childhood idol—but he may be closer than she thinks.

takes place mid-thunderhead; spoilers for thunderhead.

word count: 1,295

dedicated to @i-love-side-characters for her incredible 5am drabble. thank you akki. truly a service to humankind.

Takes place in the middle of the scene in Thunderhead where Goddard reveals that he is still kiCkiN' at conclave. This is very crack. And a fix-it fic. I hope you enjoy.

“I wish to nominate Honorable Scythe Robert Goddard for High Blade of MidMerica.”

Silence for a moment … then a few chuckles, but they weren’t derisive. They were nervous.

“Brahms,” said Xenocrates slowly, “in case you’ve forgotten, Scythe Goddard has been dead for over a year now.”

And then the heavy bronze doors of the conclave chamber slowly began to open.

Scythe Curie drew in a sharp breath, willing her heart rate to slow. This was ridiculous, clearly some sort of diversion tactic planned by the new order. To even react in the slightest was preposterous; her body was showing its age, another reminder she needed to turn a corner soon.

But then in strode the incinerated scythe, and Marie knew even the frailest of bodies wasn’t capable of a hallucination so horrible.

Rumors began to trickle through the room. Gasps. Whispers. Cheers. The man who could not be Scythe Goddard moved down the center aisle, gait looser than Marie remembered. The worries of becoming High Blade, of being placed in the position only because of her past actions, slipped suddenly into the furthest thing on Curie’s mind. This was impossible. She was supposed to be watching out for Scythe Nietzsche, and Nietzsche didn’t have the votes. This could not be.

And yet it was. They had entered the worst of all possible worlds.

Entering the chamber in Goddard’s wake was a familiar figure in bright green. Scythe Rand was alive, too? Eyes now looked to the open bronze doors, expecting that Scythes Chomsky and Volta might also return from the dead today, but that was not who next entered the chamber.

No, this was another figure. A figure even more impossible.

In the years before Curie was born, the world was chock-full of turmoil. Although the Thunderhead had revealed itself some time ago, humans were still clinging on to government and power. The scythedom, only in its founding years, was still mistrusted. And black market revivals for those who had been gleaned—a problem all but forgotten to history now—were all the rage.

It had been becoming a bigger and bigger issue, from what Marie knew; the Thunderhead believed it was under the scythedom’s jurisdiction to deal with, while the fledgling scythedom was relying on the Thunderhead to solve it. What was essentially breathing life back into the gleaned single-handedly rendered the entire scythedom useless. And though the Thunderhead was beginning to engineer safe space travel solutions, it needed a backup in case of failure.

So the first (and, to date, only) scythe-Thunderhead ambassador was chosen.

Marie had idolized Scythe Astley throughout her childhood. Apprenticed under Scythe Sappho herself, Astley—whose Patron Historic was a largely-forgotten mortal-age musician—was a man not only of the scythedom and the Thunderhead but of the people. And not in the phony, self-serving way of the current new order, but honestly, genuinely. After helping the Thunderhead and founding scythes engineer a solution to the black-market problem—which, once they’d found a means of communication, was relatively simple; the Thunderhead would shut down all operations and the scythedom glean anyone who dared involve themself—he stayed wildly well-known. The Thunderhead continued to speak to him and only him, and once he self-gleaned refused to choose another ambassador. The scythedom and the Thunderhead would remain separate entities, it declared, this time for good. Nobody could replace Astley, one of the few truly-beloved scythes.

Scythe Curie could remember the day he self-gleaned. It felt tragic, doubly so knowing now that the scythedom had so thoroughly shoved his memory under the rug. Prominent scythes didn’t want anyone new to know conversing with the Thunderhead was anything short of impossible, and somehow he had just been … forgotten.

But Marie remembered him. His love of ice cream. His iconic robe, fashioned to look as though it were a suit. His studded, intricately-designed dark leather dress shoes.

The same shoes that were tapping their way through the conclave chamber now.

It couldn’t be.

“Astley!” Marie breathed, words sticking in her throat. She saw Anastasia shoot her a confused glance, completely unaware as to the identity of this new key player. She’d never told her about Scythe Astley.

Around the room, similar gasps of shock were passing around. Many scythes, however, were like Anastasia; they ignored this new man and focused their attentions back on Goddard—who looked positively furious at being overshadowed. “What is this?” he shouted, a vein in his neck pulsing.

“I might ask you the same thing,” Scythe Astley responded smoothly. He reached his hand into a pocket and pulled out a large pin with his own face on it. Scythe Astley isn’t ghastly! it read in garishly cartoonish print.

And now Goddard’s face had truly paled. “Scythe Astley? But—but you self-gleaned, years ago!”

“Yeah, no I didn’t.” Astley smirked, drawing his fingers through his impeccably styled ginger hair. “Anyway, you’re one to talk.”

The entire scythedom tittered. Xenocrates, having lost all semblance at control in the room, slowly backed away.

“Who’s this?” Anastasia hissed to Curie, and the Granddame of Death saw her moment.

“Everyone!” she shouted, voice commanding. “This man is Honorable Ambassador-Scythe Rick Astley, apprentice to founding scythe Sappho herself. Show him the respect he deserves.”

“Thank you, Scythe Curie,” Astley said, and Marie blushed as though she were a little girl again. He knew her name!

He stood tall, and the entire scythedom—even Goddard—found themselves bending to accommodate him. “It’s true. I, Scythe Rick Astley, did not truly self-glean. I meant it when I said I was never gonna give you up. No, I’ve simply been waiting for the perfect time to rejoin the scythedom—and that time has come today.”

Astley looked around the conclave chamber thoughtfully, before continuing on. “You see, I and I alone have access to the Thunderhead. I am the single exception to the schism between organizations. With me and the Thunderhead by your sides, I can solemnly swear we’re never gonna let you down.”

He smiled kindly, before giving a disapproving stink-eye. “The Thunderhead and I pronounce Robert Goddard illegible for the position of High Blade, so don’t even try it. We have some problems with that man.”

Scythe Goddard sank to his knees, distraught. “Scythe Astley? You don’t like me? What have I done?”

Astley ignored him, instead moving on to Curie herself. “Therefore, by process of elimination plus nobody cares about that other contestant, I hereby pronounce Honorable Scythe Marie Curie High Blade of MidMerica.”

Marie let in a shocked gasp, tears coming to her eyes. Rick Astley believed in her. “Is this true?”

“I don’t know what’s going on so I guess,” Xenocrates called from the back. “Ima go hop on over to Endura now anyway. I will live a happy and fulfilling life as Grandslayer and hopefully learn to become more than competent. Scythe Goddard will never come for a vacation.”

“Sounds good!” everyone called.

Rowan Damisch and Scythe Volta tiptoed in from the back. The mere presence of the near-god Astley had brought Volta back to life and caused Rowan to escape his bonds. Speaking of, he caught Anastasia’s eye and they started making out passionately. Scythe Curie decided to forgive him because if he was truly bad he too would have been smited by the wrath of Scythe Astley.

“Thank you, Rick,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“Of course!” he cried, and then repeated, “I’m never gonna give you up!” There was cheering from the crowd, all divisions in the scythedom forgotten. Someone started singing his theme song, the popular mortal-age ditty of his Patron Historic. It was very catchy. He tapped his dress shoes some more.

All was good. At long last, Curie felt herself truly relax. The scythedom was in good hands.

“Now who wants to go grab some ice cream?”

[glitteronadumpsterfire]

I'm a fucking wreck rn I haven't been sleeping for a week and I'm getting some rest from the bullshit factory that is my brain only now, but I just wanted to say that last year for me has been saved by tumblr and all the friends I made along the way.

Before you go below the cut, a special thanks goes to the Bee Movie Anon, who, rightfully, I can't tag so I have to say it here in the hope that they'll see it. Your hunger for chaos made me feel a lot of emotions, and I'd have never in any time or space thought that the Bee Movie would be such a prominent part of my life as it is now thanks (read it with a note of sarcasm) to you. Thank you for providing us an infinite amount of both entertainment and suffering, hell, some of the friends I made were because of YOU. I'm still not sure what was your drive to go and start this absurd crusade for the bee movie in the 80s metal fandom, but I don't know, I don't think bee so, I'm not gonna question your ways.

@arnold-layne being the first in line, you kept me sane somehow in the first phases of quarantine and dedicated a lot your time to talk with me and helped me enormously with creativity. If it wasn't for you, that Cyberpunk Comic That Is Kinda Inspired By The Crüe and Shout At The Devil would've been already down the drain. I would've given up probably, because I didn't know how to exted the concept and have an actual plot. A dream that I've been having for literal years wouldn't even have such cool characters with a rich storyline if it wasn't for you. I know I kinda left it after a month or so of intense brainstorming with you, I was literally drained at that point both physically and mentally, but oh boy I haven't forgot about the characters that WE created. How could I after all? Russ being the wreck of a tormented junkie protagonist that he is, Dylan the happy-go-lucky fuck up that seems to do nothing right but with the best intentions, Frankie the runaway sassy and wary androgynous teenager whose gender is a mystery even to themselves, and the epitome of the found family trope, ex gov agent part Japanese, part Russian, part cyborg Vik, whose story isn't still clear yet but we'll give him a very good one, eventually.

You gave me the curiosity to read fanfiction again after literally NINE YEARS of being distant from that part of the fandom and honestly I don't regret it one bit. In fact, I discovered literally my favorite writer in fanfiction. That is you, Arnold. I don't care how frequently you write, I don't care if sometimes you can't do your best. I'll always be there waiting for the next chapter and I'll always think that your art is sublime. I'll have to admit, I don't read your works as often as I should. But it's because I love them so much that I want to always save for later. It's like a drug, or a delicious cake that you want it to last as long as possible so you can enjoy it for much longer (I should be reading your fic more often either way tho like, at least so I can make more art for it. I'll make sure to change that this year and give you the recognition you deserve 🖤).

Everytime I make art, everytime I make a post, I always wait for your name to pop in my notifs. And fuck if I'm happy when I see it, and I rush to read your tags and it always makes my day. Like seriously, you mean so much to me and I admire how you can still be any amount of sane with all you're going through. You're strong as hell, keep going. 🖤

@i-dont-like-rice dude, how can I explain it. You're my best bud here. You're my chaotic sibling from another mother. The other braindead I share the single braincell I have with. The Nikki to my Tommy. Or the Tommy to my Nikki, I'm still not sure which of us is which (I guess I'm Nikki and you're Tommy? lmao it's ironic how even them are an italian and a balkanian) but you get the point. Every interaction we have, I laugh my ass off till my whole body hurts every time. I think I worried my mother and annoyed my sister at least a couple times for bursting out laughing for five minutes straight out of the blue, especially if it was late at night, and all the times, I swear it was because of you. You are as chaotic as you are kind, and it's always so disarming to see you worry or take care of others when you are definitely in a worse situation. Please, be more selfish, goddammit. For your own sake. And be more confident of your art. Draw shit and post it. Who cares if it's not perfect and you hate it and you don't want anybody to see it, it's tumblr, nobody will ever reblog it or give you the well deserved recognition anyway! So it's worth a try isn't it?

@no-stone-no-bone seriously, I'm so glad I met you. You're like the third element of chaos that holds me and Andi together. All three of us are literally unstoppable. You're extremely sweet too and I wish you the best, and DON'T HIDE SHIT IN THE TAGS GODDAMMIT 😂

@white-lightning-625 @viiinceneil I know we really haven't talked much, and we met through unfortunate times, but I'm so glad that something good came out of the chaos and drama, which is being able to talk to you and getting to know you both better. And the fics. My god, the fics. Frankie, I already told you this but MY GOD. I still find it incredible that I've read a fic about a band I didn't even know what they looked or sounded like and I was HOOKED from start to finish. And Katie, I should definitely read more of your works because I love what you've got going on. You're both very sweet and talented with a very distinct, beautiful way of writing and I can't wait to sink my teeth into the pulp of your work, because I know that by now I only scratched the surface.

@awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands Bruh, conoscere una fan su tumblr the parla la MIA STESSA LINGUA (e che ha pure il mio stesso vero nome lmao cosa sta succedendo)??? Che concetto innovativo!!! Le nostre conversazioni sono sempre disgiunte, ma non importa, adoro ogni nostra interazione. Sei seriamente una delle persone più dolci e gentili che abbia mai conosciuto. La tua creatività stimola sempre la mia. Le tue moodboard sono sempre 👌👌👌 e ogni volta trovo sempre qualcosa che sì, ci avevo pensato, ma mai nel modo in cui lo poni tu, e di solito sono una persona che resta vicina alle proprie idee, ma tu riesci a farmi alterare prospettiva, e trovo questo meccanismo mentale molto affascinante. Ti ricordi lo swapped instruments AU, con Tommy come cantante, no? Giuro che è un concetto a cui penso ancora dopo mesi. Spero di avere la capacità mentale per tradurre quell'idea in arte il prima possibile, perché cazzo, lo adoro troppo

@tattooed-lies thank you for providing the fandom the best gifs in the fucking platform and thank you for giving us the vinikki content that everyone, even if they're not aware, deserves and needs. Thank you for being the only Vince stan that I know. Thank you for being the sweetest person alive 💖

@nbtommylee honestly, I wish I was cool like you. Your sense of humor is impeccable, much like your critical thinking. I have never read something from you that wasn't a valid point. You don't talk shit and that's extremely sexy of you, y'know? And having a "gender dysphoria buddy" to be jealous of our Rockstar Gender Of Choice with is always fun to have, so that's definitely a plus. Can't wait to see (and read!) more of your art, I just love your style so much and you deserve to be Known

@metalmelkor @emometalhead @polka-dot-duff I'm always so happy to see you in my notifs and y'all are oh so very sweet and cool, we haven't talked much but I love every interaction we have, sorry for having the social skills of a stale piece of white bread 🖤

A special thanks goes to @awesomgrlgr8job bc you're literally one of my very first mutuals since I made the decision to make this dumpster fire of a blog and holy shit it's crazy to think about that. I don't even know if we ever interacted that much but it's always such a joy to see you around, ily and I hope you're doing well and thanks for putting up with my clownery for so long 💖

Like seriously, thank you all. I don't even know where I would be without you. Here's to another year of chaos, but only of the good kind 💖

[italian-sides]

“Ombre e Bastoni”, ch. 1

Hello everyone!  Today I’m back with a fanfic written by the amazing and wonderful @misslilidelaney almost over a year and half ago?, which i tried to translate in English, while at the same time keeping some key Italian words in it. A huge thank you goes also to @watcher-from-the-heights for being my extraordinary beta all the freaking time.  I also @ts-italian-gang because they’re all great people and i hope they’ll enjoy this too! There will be some translations at the end of the fic, but please lemme know if you don’t understand something, I’ll gladly answer your questions!  Well, enjoy! Pairing: Deceit Sanders x Emile Picani; implied!Logicality

TW: the italian version of a swear word, mentions of alcohol, and non-consensual staring at body parts (?) Whenever Emilio Picani walked into the Dolce&Remi, all heads turned. Maybe it was his everlasting teenager vibe despite having been in his thirties for some time. Maybe it was the way his light brown hair brushed the frame of his glasses. Maybe it was the bright burst of joy that radiated with every step he took. Or maybe, simply, because he was excruciatingly hot. Everyone, in the clique of Remo Stella's friends, including himself, got a more or less significant crush on the psychologist. His brother Romolo was the first to flirt with him in a rather shameless way, getting knocked down with a feather when the handsome Picani delicately declined his offer. Luca looked at Emilio's eyes - and maybe also at his ass - for a long time in a dreamy way, before placing his own pair of eyes on those surrounded by ephelids belonging to Emilio's cousin, Patrizio, and realizing that those were the eyes he wanted to look at forever. Virgilio never said anything about it, but Remo was quite convinced that his choice to enroll in Psychology at university was not entirely accidental. On his hand, Remo limited himself to get over his crush when he learned that Emilio was looking for someone to share rent with, and decided to offer one of the rooms in his apartment to house the psychologist, at least until he found  another arrangement - which didn't happen, not even three years later. While living with him, Remo understood that Emilio was as adorable as he was terribly distracted and messy, and he took him more as a clumsy older brother than a possible companion. And there was the closet situation, of course. Despite hanging out with the most queer souls of Bologna, Emilio never did a coming out of any kind, so in reality only Patrizio could probably know if he spent time with them only because they were interesting lost causes or because, in the end, he was also part of the closet too. Not that it mattered, anyway, because when Patrizio brought the psychologist, who had just moved from Verona, to the bar for the first time, the whole company "adopted" him almost automatically, either because of the Cool Cousin Effect™ or because, in the end, Emilio was a truly exquisite person, who managed to impress everyone. Well, almost everyone. If there was a person who couldn't stand the psychologist, it was undoubtedly Remo's dishwasher-handyman, Giuda Schiavon. After moving from what he called "la terra dei mussatti" [1], that is Venice and his mosquitoes, to study at the University of Bologna, he gave up on it during the second semester of his third year, finding various little jobs before landing at Dolce&Remì and being accepted by Remo and Tommaso. Remo doubted that he really had the chance to have all those work experiences, but Tommaso liked the commitment that Giuda put into doing things, so the owner of the bar agreed to keep him. Giuda appeared like a good person, even if everyone seemed to have noticed that he loved to exaggerate things, especially regarding his past in Venice, and Virgilio once sentenced, sipping his coffee: "He tells things as if they were true.", something everyone nodded to. But if Giuda was good at hiding his emotions behind layers and layers of nonsense, it was clear as the sun that he, unlike everyone else, couldn't suffer Emilio. As soon as the young man got into the bar, or showed up for the clique's nights out, Giuda had always, and invariably, something to do. When they were out, he would get a text that forced him to go elsewhere; when he was at work, suddenly he had to go and do something in the kitchen.Emilio tried several times to speak with him, but Giuda always cut him short in a bad way. Remo found it irritating, but Emilio didn't say much at home about it, and Giuda eventually continued to do his job well. Lately, he made up his mind that the bar's wine list was not interesting enough, and started suggesting typical wines from the Veneto region, which Tommaso decided to try, and that everyone seemed to like. Paradoxically, the happiest of them all was Emilio himself, whom Remo knew was a wine lover: "Really, I would have expected everything, except that here in Bologna I would have drunk such a good Millesimato di Conegliano [2]! Guys, really, I love Emilian wines but here you're really spoiling me. Last week's Garda Chardonnay [2] was divine!" Tommaso gloated and indicated the kitchen boy struggling with a tray full of glasses: "You must thank Giuda, Emi. He's the one who's coming up with Veneto wines." Emilio darkened for a moment, looking down at his feet. Remo didn't even have the time to comment that the veronese came out with a ringing: "Thanks for the wine, Giuda!", which followed up with a disaster that definitely opened the bartender's eyes. "GHESBORO!” [3], the Venetian shouted, while the tray flew out of his hand, shattering the six glasses on it. With his face flushed from... anger?, he turned to Emilio and hissed, mordant: "You're welcome." before leaving for the umpteenth time in search of the broom. The veronese darkened further, and Patrizio put a hand on his back, without saying anything, while the hamsters in Remo's brain slowly started to move. With an agile bounce, he passed the massacre of glasses and reached Giuda in the broom's closet, where he was about to say something before hearing him speak: "Ma ghesboro. [3] That's not possible! Right in front of him!"  the young man was saying with bitterness, while putting on his yellow dishwashing gloves to be able to collect the glasses without hurting himself. And it was at that moment that the hamsters in Remo's head understood how to run on the wheel. All the distancings, all the tension, his always getting away but remaining within reach of conversation. Giuda asked the boys to bring more Veneto wines because Emilio often said that he would have wanted to be a sommelier, if he hadn't become a psychologist. Giuda knew it. Giuda always listened. And as they looked each other in the eyes, Remo visibly shocked and Giuda flushed with embarrassment, the roman finally understood. Giuda had a terrible crush on Emilio. [1] transl: "the land of mussatti", in which "mussatti" is the venetian dialect term for "mosquitos" [2]: they're two famous Veneto wines [3]: according to the Urban Dictonary, "Venetian slang meaning literally "I ejaculate on it", an expression of anger or surprise. Expression of very common use." So... did you like it?! I really hope you did, because there will be other chapters later on and I can’t wait to share them with you all!  See ya around, ciao! <3

Ciao a tutti!  Oggi torno con una fanfiction scritta dalla fantastica e meravigliosa @misslilidelaney, ormai un anno fa, circa?, che ho cercato di tradurre il più possibile in inglese, pur mantenendo qualche parola in italiano. Spero vi piaccia! Quando Emilio Picani entrava al Dolce&Remì, tutte le teste si giravano. Forse era la sua aria da perenne ragazzino nonostante avesse da un pezzo raggiunto i trent'anni. Forse era per come i capelli castano chiaro sfioravano la montatura degli occhiali. Forse era l'aria di gioia che irradiava luminosa ad ogni suo passo. O forse perché, semplicemente, era un figo atroce. Tutti, nella compagnia degli amici di Remo Stella, lui incluso, si erano presi una cotta più o meno pesante per lo psicologo. Suo fratello Romolo era stato il primo a provarci in maniera abbastanza spudorata, rimanendoci di sasso quando il bel Picani aveva declinato con tatto la sua offerta. Luca aveva guardato per un bel pezzo gli occhi - e un po' anche il culo - di Emilio con fare sognante, prima di posare i propri su quelli contornati di efelidi del cugino Patrizio, e rendersi conto che erano quelli, gli occhi che avrebbe voluto guardare per sempre. Virgilio non aveva mai detto nulla a riguardo, ma Remo era abbastanza convinto che la sua scelta di iscriversi a Psicologia non fosse del tutto casuale. Dal canto suo, Remo si era limitato a farsi passare la cotta quando aveva saputo che Emilio cercava qualcuno con cui dividere l'affitto, e aveva deciso di offrire una delle stanze del suo appartamento per ospitare lo psicologo, almeno fino a quando non avrebbe trovato un'altra sistemazione - cosa che, a distanza di tre anni, ancora non era successa. Vivendo assieme a lui aveva capito che era adorabile quanto incasinato e tremendamente distratto, e Remo lo aveva preso più come un maldestro fratello maggiore, che per un possibile compagno. E c'era la situazione Armadio, ovviamente. Nonostante girasse con le anime più gay della città, Emilio non aveva fatto nessun genere di coming out, quindi in realtà solo Patrizio poteva, probabilmente, sapere se girasse con loro solo perché erano degli interessanti casi umani o perché alla fine faceva anche lui parte della Parrocchia. Non che agli altri interessasse; infatti quando Patrizio aveva portato nel bar per la prima volta lo psicologo, appena trasferitosi da Verona, tutta la compagnia lo aveva "adottato" quasi in automatico, vuoi per l'effetto Cugino Figo™ o perché alla fine, Emilio era una persona davvero squisita, che faceva colpo su chiunque. O quasi. Se c'era una persona che invece non riusciva a sopportare lo psicologo, quello era indubbiamente il lavapiatti-tuttofare di Remo, Giuda Schiavon. Trasferitosi da quella che lui chiamava "La terra dei Mussatti", ovvero Venezia e le sue zanzare, per studiare all'università di Bologna ma si era arreso ed aveva mollato al secondo giro di terzo anno, trovandosi vari lavoretti prima di approdare al Dolce&Remì e venir accolto da Remo e Tommaso.  Remo dubitava che avesse davvero avuto modo di avere tutte quelle esperienze lavorative, ma a Tommaso piaceva l'impegno che Giuda metteva nel fare le cose, quindi il titolare del bar aveva acconsentito a tenerlo.  Giuda sembrava una brava persona, anche se un po' tutti sembravano aver notato che amava ingigantire le cose, specialmente per quanto riguardava il suo passato a Venezia, e Virgilio una volta aveva sentenziato, sorseggiando il suo caffè: "Le racconta che le par vere.", cosa a cui tutti avevano annuito. Ma se Giuda era bravo a nascondere le sue emozioni dietro strati e strati di baggianate, era chiaro come il sole che lui, al contrario di tutti, Emilio non lo poteva soffrire. Non appena il giovane uomo entrava nel bar, o si presentava alle loro serate fuori, Giuda aveva sempre, invariabilmente, qualcosa da fare.  Quando erano fuori, gli arrivava un messaggio che lo costringeva ad andare altrove; quando era a lavoro, improvvisamente doveva andare a fare qualcosa in cucina. Emilio aveva più volte cercato di parlare con lui, ma Giuda tagliava sempre corto in malo modo. Remo trovava la cosa irritante, ma Emilio non diceva molto a casa a riguardo, e Giuda alla fine continuava a fare bene il suo lavoro. Ultimamente, si era messo in testa che la carta dei vini del bar non fosse abbastanza interessante, ed aveva iniziato a proporre vini tipici del Veneto, cosa che Tommaso aveva deciso di provare, e sembravano piacere a tutti. Paradossalmente, il più contento di tutti era proprio Emilio, che Remo sapeva essere un appassionato di vini. "Davvero, tutto mi sarei aspettato, tranne che qui a Bologna avrei bevuto un Millesimato di Conegliano così buono! Ragazzi, veramente, amo i vini emiliani ma qui mi state veramente viziando. La settimana scorsa avete messo il Garda Chardonnay che era divino!" Tommaso aveva gongolato ed indicato il lavapiatti, alle prese con un vassoio pieno di bicchieri.

"Devi ringraziare Giuda, Emi. È lui che sta proponendo vini veneti." Emilio si era rabbuiato per un attimo, abbassando lo sguardo. Remo non aveva nemmeno fatto in tempo a commentare che il veronese se n'era uscito con uno squillante: "Grazie per il vino, Giuda!" che aveva dato seguito ad un disastro che aveva aperto definitivamente gli occhi del barista. "GHESBORO!" Aveva gridato il veneziano, mentre il vassoio gli era volato di mano, facendo frantumare i sei bicchieri presenti. Rosso in viso per la... rabbia? si era girato verso Emilio ed aveva sibilato, caustico: "Prego." prima di andarsene per l'ennesima volta alla ricerca della scopa. Il veronese si era rabbuiato ulteriormente, e Patrizio gli aveva messo una mano sulla schiena, senza dire niente, mentre i criceti nel cervello di Remo avevano, lentamente, iniziato a muoversi. Con uno scatto agile, aveva superato la strage di bicchieri e raggiunto Giuda nello stanzino delle scope, dove stava per dirgli qualcosa prima di sentirlo parlare. "Ma ghesboro. Ma non è possibile. Davanti a lui." stava dicendo con amarezza il giovane mentre si metteva i guanti da piatti gialli per poter raccogliere i vetri senza farsi male. Ed era in quel momento che i criceti nella testa di Remo avevano capito come si correva sulla ruota. Tutti gli allontanamenti, tutta la tensione, il suo allontanarsi sempre però restando a portata di conversazione. Giuda aveva chiesto ai ragazzi di portare più vini veneti perché Emilio aveva detto spesso che avrebbe voluto fare il sommelier, se non fosse diventato psicologo. Giuda lo sapeva. Giuda ascoltava sempre. E mentre si guardavano negli occhi, Remo sconvolto e Giuda rosso di imbarazzo, il romano aveva finalmente capito. Giuda aveva una tremenda cotta per Emilio.

[thearcanamoshpit]

 [Julian x GN Reader] Highschool!AU

(Hi hello welcome this is my first fic in like 5 years, but i love this fandom so much i want to contribute with something, so I hope you guys enjoy! Excuse any weird english, its not my first lenguage)

It was a cold day of fall.

And one of the few times I ever was sent to detention.

The other ones were over silly things really. Getting a little talkative with my friends in the middle of a class, getting caught killing time in the hallways. It happened quite rarely, really. I'm generally quiet, try to be kind with everybody, respectfull and mind my own business. But this time, things got a little out of hand.

As if having a bad night of sleep, waking up late, and leaving without breakfast wasn't enough, one of the guys that messes with me now and then decided to examine the book I had in hands a little to closely, and telling everyone in the hallway what it was about, while making a few coments about me.

By "examine a little to closely", I mean snapping it out of my hands and waving around my very precious, handmade and very difficult to find witchcraft book.

By "making a few coments about me", I mean calling me Satan's little whore, in front of a little crown of at least 40 people.

It took 3 minutes before I was on top of him, screaming, punching and scratching his face with every fiber of my being, people circling us while the hallway tuned into a confused mass of voices and yells. He did fight back a little, giving me a bruised chin and a scrach on my cheek, but I left him a bloody mess. After being able to pull me off him, the principal took me straight to his room. It was a long conversation on how he should suspend me and all, but he was very found of me. Since the boy was the one who started it, and I did got hurt too, I left his room with only a few hours of volunteer work in the school´s garden and an afternoon spend in detention.

After the last period, I started making my way into detention, getting a few side glances from everybody in the hallways. I quickly made my way into the room, rushing oppen the door, every eye in the room turning to meet me, a few coments popping here and there.  I didn't got surprised for seeing the detention's regular costumers there: Vulgora, who is aways getting in a fight with someone. Volta, who is aways eating in the most non discreet way possible, in the middle of a class. Vlastomil, the weird worm kid that keeps sneaking his “pet worm” into school. Valdemar, who is aways acting suspicious and taking stuff from the school's lab. Valerious, who got caught at least 3 times carrying wine into his water bottle, and a few other familiar faces.

I was looking around, finding a place to sit as far of everybody that I could, to at least have some peace during the next very monotonous hours.

Until I spotted his face.

I knew him. We did lab and biology classes together, although we never shared a word.

Julian Devorak.

His grey eyes stormy eyes staring right at me.

The comedian of the class, aways messing around and craking jokes. He was quite a charmer, and I frequently got myself staring at him way to much. But its not like I could ever stand a chance. There was always someone falling for him, and I, well, was me. Everybody liked him. Well, not the people he got into fights with, wich did happened pretty frequently, although I never seen him here before. Its not like I got send to detention that much anyway.

But there I was, standing in the front of the class, frozen, with his eyes not leting go of mine. Why are you staring at me? I felt my face heating up.

"Have you found a place to sit yet, or do you need help?" The sudden voice of the supervisor made me jump a little, causing a few laughs in the class and my cheeks to warm up even more.

I hurried myself to sit in the first seat I saw, next to the window, and next to the red haired man.

I didnt dare to make eye contact with him, still too embarassed of what had just happened. A few seconds passed until he leans a little closer, whispering

"Hi. Its [name] right?"

"...y-yes, it is" I said quietly, still a little tense, while putting my things on the table.

"I saw what you did to him, that bastard. Messing around with you like that. You left him pretty ugly, didn't knew you could put up a fight!" He said, chuckling a bit "Its Julian, by the way"

"Oh, I know" I said, a smile creeping on my face "But I'm not a fighter, really, I just don't like people calling me names in front of a crowd, while taking my stuff, on a already stressing day. Although... I guess you could say I like a little danger here and there" I said chucking softly on the last part, placing a few hairs behind my ear while turning to face him.

Being this close to him, he was even more handsome, if that was even possible. That perfect angled jaw line, those beautifull red locks framing his face, the deep grey eyes. I got myself staring.

And I got him staring too, at my now exposed scratch on my cheek.

“Did he hurt you...?” he said, frowning, while leaning closer to me, his long fingers touching my wound softly, eyes locked in my cheek.

I twitched a little, surprised with the sudden touch. His fingers were cold, contrasting with the -now even hotter- warm of my cheeks. 

“It was nothing, really...” He noticed me stiffing, and retreated his hand, his eyes looking straight into my now. I turned away, a smile popping on my face “Y-you should see the other guy”

“Oh, I saw him” he chuckled softly, the tension around us easing “Remember me to never getting into a fight with you” he arched his browns, a wide grin on his lips.

“Said the school’s Rocky Balboa!” I laugh, finally placing my witchcraft book on the table.

“Who? Me? My, I’m flattered-” he cutted himsolf short, eyes fixating on the book cover, a serious look on his face.

When I noticed that, I lean over the book, trying to cover it with my body, turning my eyes away from him and feeling my face starting to burn again. Shit. I should have kept it in my bag. Why did I took it out? The very first time the guy ever talks to me and he is already thinking I am a weird paggan-witch enthusiast who talks to plants and cast spells at fullmoon. I kinda am though...

When my body got in the way of his focus, he snapped, a deep blush creeping over his face as he started to apologise.

“S-sorry! I didn’t meant to stare! Its not that I think you are weird or something...” he muttered, voice fading away at the end. It took him a few moments before he spoke again “I just find it...intriguing”

“Intriguing?” I eyed him, my eyebrowns frowning slightly. I wan’t used to people describing witchcraft as intriguing often.

“Yes, intriguing. I don’t quite understand it, black magic stuff. Like do you just mix a bunch of stuff in a caldom while chanting old mystic spells?” there was no real venom behind his voice, although he put up a sacarstic tone to it. It made me laugh, shufling my body so I would face him.

“Well, kinda. But that is not black magic though. Black magic is way more serious and dangerous than that. What I focus on, and what this book is mostly about too, is herbology, stones and charms.

“And do they work? Like, the spells?” he said the last word with a little disbelief.

“Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t, like real medicine. You mix some stuff to try to get a certain outcome, and if they don’t work then you try again. But the spell casting thing is more of a pray though, to ask spirits and other forces around you an little extra help.” I took the book in my hands, hesitating in silence before closing a bit of the distance between us “...wanna take a look?”

After a few seconds, his fingers brushed slightly the cover of the book, before the supervisor closed the door of the room after the last person finally arived. The detention was about to start.

"Okay now you all. Today we got a pretty full room hun? Well, for your punishment, each of you shall right a 500 word essay of why are you here, and apologising for it. You cannot leave the room until is 5pm and you have gave me your essay. Using your cellphones is not aloud, nor getting friendly with your classmates. So quit messing around and get to work"

I was already regreting punching that guy in the face, leating out a long sigh. I retreated my book, grabbed my essay notebook and started to write my name on a page when I felt a soft tug in my sleeve.

"Hey. I really didn't want to put up with this” He said, whispering, a mischevious grin on his face. “...and you seem to do like a little danger. Say, want to bail this with me?" 

"And may I ask how do you plan on doing that, Mr.Devorak?" I arched an eyebrown, smiling, eyes on the supervisor sitting at his desk.

"My, you seem to doubt my abilities" he said, bringing a hand to his heart, looking dramatically ofended "Have you not realized that we are here with the easiest person to draw attention to: Vulgora" I looked at Vulgura across the room, and I saw them in the farest table -already- furiously marking it with their sharp nails. What the hell, does he plan to mess with them?

He stod up, took a pencil from my pouch -blinking his eye- and calmly walked into the front ot the room, with the supervisor eyeing him suspeciouly

"I'm just using the sharpener" he said, and began to slowly sharp the pencil in the big sharpener on the supervisor table. He glanced at me, a curious smile paited on my face, and his mouth moved without making a sound

“Now”

He turned to Vulgora, a surprised expression on his face.

"Oh my God Vulgora, is that a pocket knife?! You know those aren't aloud in here!" The whole class gasped, every head turning to Vulgora.

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT YOU LUNATIC?!" They yelled, banging they're fists on the table, making Volta squeak.

The supervisor stood up, his voice angry but not surprised.

"What the hell Vulgora? Give me that now" he started to make his way into their seat, the whole class starting to grew into a confused mass of whispers.

"I DONT HAVE NOTHING! YOU STAY AWAY FROM ME!"

"They hid it in their bag!" Julian yelled over the mass of voices, slowly making his way back into his seat. I got the message, and started to quietly but quickly put my stuff back into my backpack.

"Vulgora show me your bag" the supervisor was standing right beside Vulgora's desk, their back turned at me and Julian.

"OVER MY FUCKING DEAD BODY" They yelled, grabing his bag close to their body, and the class erupted in a riotous cacophany, people banging their hands on the table and yelling.

"Come on come on come on!" Julian threw his bag over his shoulder and, grabbing my arm, and we sprinted to the hallway, passing completely unoticed by the supervisor. We kept running until we were outside of the school gates, the voices getting lower and lower as we got away from the class. When we got into the streets, we were breathing heavly and giggling, the cold air around us contrasting with the heat in our faces.

And he was still holding my arm.

When he notice it, he quickly let it go "S-sorry" he whispered, a little blush creeping over.

"No, its okay, really" I shift my feet, only now realising the height difference we had- I was over a feet smalled than him, making my blush over the run intensify "Thanks for getting us out of there...I reallt didn’t wanna do that essay” I paused a little “I owe you one..."

We just stood there quiet for a few moments, just staring at eachother, the clouds of our breaths surrouding us, not knowing quite what to say next.

"Well..." he started it, looking at his phone "Its still 3:40pm, and there is this nice café nearby..." he played a little with his hair, making the curls dangle like fire ambers in the sunlight "...say, do you want to go with me? Like its... totally fine if you would rather go home i just... er hm...really like the way you drawn plants in botanic's class, and it would be really cool if you could teach me...for school stuff you know... so we can be you know...even.. and stuff"

I just stood there, my cheaks definitely very red at this point. Was he...asking me out? Me? Out? He was shifting his weight alot, and not quite meeting my eyes. He aways sounded so confided with others, why was he acting shy with me?

And more.

He observed me. And my drawings. And he liked them. He liked my shitty botanical drawings. My head was spinning, not processing what was happening around me, making me take a few seconds before verbalizing anything.

"Why er- of course! Thats sound fun, really, i'd love!" I said, a little more enthusiastic that I should, steping a few feet closer to him. “Then you can teach me how to knock down a guy whithout letting him smack you”

He smiled, and my heart skipped a beat for a second.

“My, you came to the right guy! See, the thing is you have to protect your face the whole time...”

We started making our way into the café, him talking lively about how to get the perfect punch during the whole time. And I just stood there, gigling like an idiot, not being able to believe how lucky I got.