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seborga · 6 days

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[ necklace ] sender helps receiver with the clasp of their necklace from behind (girl I'm being so normal about this)

ordinary intimacy | accepting

「 ❊ "Oh - câo, I am ss-so sorry, it is probably a m-mess back there, hm?" As per his usual dress, there's no less than five different chains all adorning Carlino's neck, from simple gold to long strands with drop pendants of emerald and ruby, crosses and angels, all tangling together to make a rats nest of metal.

Fannar is an angel, helping him with this last one while he gets ready for the day. Carlino holds the bottom of his curls up to try and help with the mess, this last piece - a dainty chain with a gold cage at the bottom, once meant to hold smelling salts and no less than five hundred years old is the final addition. He watches Fannar with attention in the mirror at the vanity they sit at, a smile tugging at his lips while the other works.

"Ah-! Perfect, see?" He spins, beaming. "It just-- just had to be there. Graçié!" And, of course, because he can't help himself, a delighted kiss is pressed to Fannar's cheek before turning back to the dusty mirror to admire. He couldn't resist. "Pretty, no?"

#{ UUUGUGHGHH BABIESSSS }#islandiis

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seborga · 6 days

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PROMPTS FOR ORDINARY THINGS THAT FEEL INTIMATE * inspired by this post. these don't have to be romantic - you can specify romantic or not when you send them. in essence, these are simply intimate, affectionate moments to share with someone you love and care about. adjust as necessary, send 'reverse' for the reversal of the prompt

[ lean ] sender rests their head on receiver's shoulder

[ shop ] sender and receiver go to the grocery store together

[ brush ] sender brushes receiver's hair

[ tie ] sender helps receiver with their tie, either by putting it on or adjusting it

[ necklace ] sender helps receiver with the clasp of their necklace from behind

[ zip up ] sender assists receiver with zipping up a piece of clothing

[ unzip ] sender assists receiver with unzipping a piece of clothing

[ shoelaces ] sender bends down to tie receiver's shoelaces

[ swipe ] sender notices a smudge of something on receiver's face and gently wipes it off

[ braid ] sender braids receiver's hair

[ jacket ] sender takes their jacket off and hangs it on receiver's shoulders

[ puddle ] sender hurries to stop receiver from stepping into a puddle

[ drinks ] sender brings receiver a drink from a bar/their kitchen

[ feed ] sender feeds receiver's pet/s for them

[ cook ] sender and receiver cook a meal together

[ feed ] sender allows receiver to try a bite of their dish, holding their fork out for receiver to taste

[ teach ] sender, an expert at something, takes time to teach receiver how it works and how they can get better at it, too

[ readjust ] sender comes up behind receiver and readjusts their stance (maybe holding a gun, holding a golf club, aiming for something, etc.) to help them

[ makeup ] sender fixes receiver's makeup for them

[ bathroom ] sender and receiver go to a public restroom together and have a normal conversation in between the stalls

[ aloud ] sender reads aloud to receiver

[ refill ] sender refills receiver's glass without asking

[ massage ] sender notices receiver looks tense, steps up behind them, and massages their shoulders

[ listen ] sender listens to receiver explain something they're passionate about

[ silence ] sender and receiver comfortably exist in silence together, both of them working or reading or focusing on something different

[ food ] sender brings food over to receiver's house

[ hum ] sender hums along to a song receiver is singing

[ see ] sender sees something that reminds them of receiver and texts them a picture of it

[ admire ] sender stares at receiver across a room, silently admiring and appreciating them from afar

[ win ] sender lets receiver beat them in a game

[ puzzle ] sender helps receiver solve/put together a puzzle

[ carry ] after receiver falls asleep in an inconvenient place, sender carries them to a bed and tucks them in

[ kneel ] sender finds receiver sick in the bathroom ("tossing their cookies"), and kneels beside them, holding their hair back and cleaning their face

[ clean ] sender helps bathe receiver

[ wash ] sender helps receiver wash their hair

[ patch ] sender carefully patches one of receiver's wounds

#{ cute.... }

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seborga · 10 days

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closed with @xbasilrp

「 ❊ It's a beautiful night for a cocktail.

Early spring rings in a hot summer, and the Mediterranean is as unforgiving as it is lovely. Carlino likes the drive here - he finds himself driving more often than not, these days, with harvest not yet impending and more free time on his hands than he knows what to do with. He'd followed the coast until he reached Barcelona, rattling down the highway in his ancient Fiat with his bags still in the back seat, and found parking on the vast cobblestone roads, wandering quietly through bustling streets and loudly chattering tourists until he'd found a more low-key bar worthy of his attention. It's a common one - seated on the main level of a large brick building, with windows open and seating on the terrace surrounded in a glow of strung up fairy lights.

It's here that Carlino takes a seat, setting his phone on silent and patiently ordering at the bar, his chin in his hand as a glass of Cava is slid across the counter for him to enjoy. It's 9pm on the dot. He can't see the water from here, but Carlino likes to imagine the way they'd dance across the rippling tides. Tonight, he wears comfortable beige slacks and a loose fitting linen shirt tucked into his pants, countless necklaces tangling against his chest and a particular emerald drop earring nestled beneath auburn curls.

He's waiting for someone. A light smile creases his lips, and he tastes another sip of his drink and enjoys the bubbles all the way down.

#xbasilrp #{ hehehehehehehehe e}

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seborga · 13 days

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{ on my pinterest shit. thinking about Him }

#{ that top right pic just is him who is that BOY }

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seborga · 14 days

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🍸 What kind of dreams do you have that you don't share?

tipsy meme | accepting

「 ❊ "Mmmmmm, anonimo, I--" Hick. "I would-- I would be sharing them if-- if I thought they were g-good to share, of course!" He giggles. "Oooh, so many scary th--things. But I do not sh-share them not-- not because they are scary, but be-because it would terribly frighten others, you-- you know? Hah. People do not like my-- my ghost stories. What a shame."

#{ carlino dreaming of the horrors: hehehehoohoo }#{ THANKU for the ask!! }

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seborga · 15 days

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The muse is tipsy! Send me a 🍸and ask a question of them.

It may or may not be because the mun is also tipsy…

#{ u know what. yeah }

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seborga · 26 days

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would carlino cancel me if i followed him around irla nd then stopped

{ as long as you stop??? }

#{ HMTKRLMHLKH #going thru my inbox and this is like 2 years old who sent this #do not follow this poor boy AROUND #HES PARANOID ENOUGH }

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seborga · 1 month

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「 ❊ The soft touches to his hair increase - not just a wary pat, but soft strokes, and Carlino practically keens at the affection, sitting as still as possible while his hands entirely still in his lap. He's relaxed, like this - no need to anxiously pick, and he slips his gloves back on in tandem, eyes fluttering shut with a quiet hum.

Just stay? To this day, Carlino still finds it blindly overwhelming to think that is all his brother needs from him. He has so little to offer - a small boy in love with his flowers with scarce money or gold to his name. All he has to offer is his time, his presence, and he does so readily. "Of course." He reassures, voice firm and steady. "Of course."

A quiet silence falls between them, and Carlino tries to think of what he would like. His house was rife with oil paintings - a few modern acrylics here and there, but for their longevity, their presence amongst sprawling artworks of kings long past and scenic landscapes, it's clear what fits best.

"Oil." Carlino murmurs, gazing up at the other. "I have old, old frames I--I can bring for it. I will have it in my-- my bedroom. S-something beautiful, but entirely yours."

「 ❊ The touch to his head has Carlino jump just the slightest bit before he relaxes into it - pressing up like a cat, his quiet push that this was fine, this was good, that Cici had his permission. They orbited around each other - they always would, but there was such a stagnant fear that weighed like heavy clouds before rainfall. He tries to encourage it in his own silent way, still anxiously picking at the skin on his hands while they fall into a moment of silence, his lashes fluttering at being called precious by the most precious person Carlino had ever met in his life. Such was the way things were.

"Hardly." He murmurs, all too knowing that it would never be his cross to bear. Being forgotten was his blessing. It had never once occurred to him in that bloodstained drawing room, not once, that it would be him. It never could be. He lacked the presence. "But you dr-drive yourself with-- with it. I... I think it is... Good, when-- when you speak of it. I know I-- I am not around, sso-- so much, but anything I can do--"

He lets his words fall. The next topic was easier, his eyes creasing with a smile that brightens up his expression.

"And h-he does not want my gold? You wound me. A gift, only if-- if you have the time. Otherwise I can al--always wait. It has to-- to be something that reminds you of--of me. Something special."

#dietrologie

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seborga · 1 month

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continuing from here with @suntuusita

「 ❊ Oh Mirèlha, sweet girl. Oh he had missed her. The house in Genoa felt so massive without her - his lifeline, his comfort in those sprawling halls and the grand palace when Tomaxìn was too busy with other things to pay him any mind. He launches into her arms, bundling the other up close as Carlìn strokes her hair, his own eyes terribly watery at their impromptu and much needed reunion. He should've brought flowers or snacks - something to offer her, but he finds his hands empty aside from her, bundling up his sister tight and gently guiding her so they could sit outside as she asked.

"Oh, seu, oh-- the house is so-- it is so empty without you, I--" He swallows thick, guiding them to the grass.

"Here- lay down with-- with me. Let me see your face."

#{ HISTORICAL THREAD HISTORICAL THREAD HIST #YAAAS }#{ i hope this is okay! }#suntuusita

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seborga · 1 month

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from Anthology of Armenian Poetry, ed. & tr. by Diana Der Hovanessian and Marzbed Margossian; "David of Sassoun"

[Text ID: "I do not feel part of the world."]

#carlino core

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seborga · 1 month

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「 ❊ The touch to his head has Carlino jump just the slightest bit before he relaxes into it - pressing up like a cat, his quiet push that this was fine, this was good, that Cici had his permission. They orbited around each other - they always would, but there was such a stagnant fear that weighed like heavy clouds before rainfall. He tries to encourage it in his own silent way, still anxiously picking at the skin on his hands while they fall into a moment of silence, his lashes fluttering at being called precious by the most precious person Carlino had ever met in his life. Such was the way things were.

"Hardly." He murmurs, all too knowing that it would never be his cross to bear. Being forgotten was his blessing. It had never once occurred to him in that bloodstained drawing room, not once, that it would be him. It never could be. He lacked the presence. "But you dr-drive yourself with-- with it. I... I think it is... Good, when-- when you speak of it. I know I-- I am not around, sso-- so much, but anything I can do--"

He lets his words fall. The next topic was easier, his eyes creasing with a smile that brightens up his expression.

"And h-he does not want my gold? You wound me. A gift, only if-- if you have the time. Otherwise I can al--always wait. It has to-- to be something that reminds you of--of me. Something special."

「 ❊ The more Carlino looks, the more disturbing the paintings become. There's a feeling that he shouldn't look - that all of this was too private, but he can't help himself. He's a crow that loves to collect shiny things, and the bright pops on the canvas draw his eye before he can meekly look down again. He sighs, quiet, and slips off his gloves to pick at the dented skin on the very tips of his fingers where they'd been peeling.

"It-- it could have been an--any of them, you know. The guilt is--is not yours to shoulder. But I am ss-sure that does not help. I have ss-said it before."

Another quiet sigh, looking up at Cici with eyes wide as the moon. Bright in the lowlight. Analytical, tracing his brother over and over again. His smile is faint.

"Would y-you still take gold as-- as payment? I am afraid m-my funds are rather low, as-- as of late."

#dietrologie

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seborga · 1 month

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「 ❊ The more Carlino looks, the more disturbing the paintings become. There's a feeling that he shouldn't look - that all of this was too private, but he can't help himself. He's a crow that loves to collect shiny things, and the bright pops on the canvas draw his eye before he can meekly look down again. He sighs, quiet, and slips off his gloves to pick at the dented skin on the very tips of his fingers where they'd been peeling.

"It-- it could have been an--any of them, you know. The guilt is--is not yours to shoulder. But I am ss-sure that does not help. I have ss-said it before."

Another quiet sigh, looking up at Cici with eyes wide as the moon. Bright in the lowlight. Analytical, tracing his brother over and over again. His smile is faint.

"Would y-you still take gold as-- as payment? I am afraid m-my funds are rather low, as-- as of late."

「 ❊ Carlino waits quietly while Cici digs out the key from its hiding place - disguised behind a canvas with the door locked firmly until its owner wanted to enter. It punches him, the privacy of this, but he lacks to ask if Cici was alright with this, and instead follows where he's beckoned while his brother's eyes continue to pool with tears. He's greeted by a beautiful room - covered head to toe in paintings both covered and not, sketches drawn out on tables and supplies scattered with reckless abandon. It's as unorganized as he'd expected, and unsure where to go, he simply takes a seat on the floor near one of the half covered easels, cross legged with gloved hands in his lap.

"Do y-you really feel like none of--of it was worth it?" He's almost incredulous - but, he supposes, Cici did not have the freedom of knowing that it would all come to an end soon. Perhaps if Carlino was more permanent, he would feel the same way - an exhausted helplessness, untethered and unbound. "I sh-should have brought some oranges. I h-have plenty right now."

He breathes in slowly, and ignores the rattling in his chest.

"You were al--always sso-- so much better at painting than-- than me." He murmurs, glancing around. "I could never p-pick it up. Always music, never art." The paintings feel familiar in many, many ways. Skillful and heavy handed - thick oil paints spelling out death and decay in a hundred strokes, and Carlino tries not to stare too long at them. Sightless eyes watch, wondering if They'd been depicted handsomely, and Carlino doesn't have the words to reassure them.

"Would you ev--ever let me have a painting for my house?"

#dietrologie

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seborga · 1 month

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「 ❊ Carlino waits quietly while Cici digs out the key from its hiding place - disguised behind a canvas with the door locked firmly until its owner wanted to enter. It punches him, the privacy of this, but he lacks to ask if Cici was alright with this, and instead follows where he's beckoned while his brother's eyes continue to pool with tears. He's greeted by a beautiful room - covered head to toe in paintings both covered and not, sketches drawn out on tables and supplies scattered with reckless abandon. It's as unorganized as he'd expected, and unsure where to go, he simply takes a seat on the floor near one of the half covered easels, cross legged with gloved hands in his lap.

"Do y-you really feel like none of--of it was worth it?" He's almost incredulous - but, he supposes, Cici did not have the freedom of knowing that it would all come to an end soon. Perhaps if Carlino was more permanent, he would feel the same way - an exhausted helplessness, untethered and unbound. "I sh-should have brought some oranges. I h-have plenty right now."

He breathes in slowly, and ignores the rattling in his chest.

"You were al--always sso-- so much better at painting than-- than me." He murmurs, glancing around. "I could never p-pick it up. Always music, never art." The paintings feel familiar in many, many ways. Skillful and heavy handed - thick oil paints spelling out death and decay in a hundred strokes, and Carlino tries not to stare too long at them. Sightless eyes watch, wondering if They'd been depicted handsomely, and Carlino doesn't have the words to reassure them.

"Would you ev--ever let me have a painting for my house?"

「 ❊ Carlino lies easily, and Cici lets him off the hook even easier. There's a hum of gratitude from Them at the recognition of it being their day, too - a low buzz in Carlino's teeth as he shakes his head as if to clear it, positive that he had left Them at home and not allowed Them to follow him here. It'd be too disrespectful - too cruel, and he'd made sure not to bring cruelty here of all places, his touch to the counter featherlight as if mending glass.

"I suppose I can't not." He murmurs, brow creasing ever so slightly at Cici's tears. His brother cries so easily - Carlino envies it, somewhat, condemned to the privacy of his home whenever he allows himself to feel anything strongly. Otherwise he hovers - a baseline outside of himself, looming just behind his eyes but otherwise never allowed to come to fruition.

He glides easily, long legs carrying him quickly before he gently brushes Cici's wrist, beckoning him to follow to his studio. Carlino knows this house, thankfully, and while it's larger than his own cramped castle, he'd had enough time to memorize it. He does not mention that he wanted to leave five minutes ago.

"Will you tell m-me what-- what you are thinking about?"

#dietrologie

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seborga · 1 month

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Julia de Burgos, tr. by Jack Agüeros, from Song of the Simple Truth: The Complete Poems of Julia de Burgos; "Symbol of roses"

#carlino core

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seborga · 1 month

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「 ❊ Carlino lies easily, and Cici lets him off the hook even easier. There's a hum of gratitude from Them at the recognition of it being their day, too - a low buzz in Carlino's teeth as he shakes his head as if to clear it, positive that he had left Them at home and not allowed Them to follow him here. It'd be too disrespectful - too cruel, and he'd made sure not to bring cruelty here of all places, his touch to the counter featherlight as if mending glass.

"I suppose I can't not." He murmurs, brow creasing ever so slightly at Cici's tears. His brother cries so easily - Carlino envies it, somewhat, condemned to the privacy of his home whenever he allows himself to feel anything strongly. Otherwise he hovers - a baseline outside of himself, looming just behind his eyes but otherwise never allowed to come to fruition.

He glides easily, long legs carrying him quickly before he gently brushes Cici's wrist, beckoning him to follow to his studio. Carlino knows this house, thankfully, and while it's larger than his own cramped castle, he'd had enough time to memorize it. He does not mention that he wanted to leave five minutes ago.

"Will you tell m-me what-- what you are thinking about?"

「 ❊ Carlino has ghosts in his walls. He's said so before. Carlino has the ghosts of their family in those walls. They sit in the tapestries and the paintings. He does not say this. They have been watching Cici for centuries. He does not say this, either. They have been watching him very, very closely, and ask Carlino questions, to which Carlino rarely has the answer to. It bothers him, but he has never said this. He still does not say so now. To do so would have him committed, or slapped, or worse, and so he simply keeps it to himself, singing folk songs into the early hours in harmony with those long passed. It is not the place for it here. Carlino does not know the folk songs here.

"They ar--are not watching." He lies, sweetly, still keeping his distance from someone that startled his deer heart the way they had. "I--I only came to-- to check on you, Cici. I swear, I was worried, I know that it-- that it-- that this day--"

Inhale, exhale, dropping his keys again in his pocket and letting gloved hands grip the counters instead. His gaze flutters - he's been told the way he watches is unnatural, like a bug or a cat, and so he tries not to, flickering up and down and up and down and to the bouquet, and to Cici, and to his hands.

"...I will never leave y-you. Pl-please do not be sorry. You on--only startled me." That part is truth, and he says so easily.

"I try to-- to remember things like--like humans do, because it seems... Easier. More-- more simple. That is why. I-- I know it is different, for--for me. I should n-not have-- have mentioned them. I only wanted to--to ask. Can I-- can- c--c-can I--" There's another soft inhale, restarting. "Can we sit down?"

#dietrologie

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seborga · 1 month

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「 ❊ Carlino has ghosts in his walls. He's said so before. Carlino has the ghosts of their family in those walls. They sit in the tapestries and the paintings. He does not say this. They have been watching Cici for centuries. He does not say this, either. They have been watching him very, very closely, and ask Carlino questions, to which Carlino rarely has the answer to. It bothers him, but he has never said this. He still does not say so now. To do so would have him committed, or slapped, or worse, and so he simply keeps it to himself, singing folk songs into the early hours in harmony with those long passed. It is not the place for it here. Carlino does not know the folk songs here.

"They ar--are not watching." He lies, sweetly, still keeping his distance from someone that startled his deer heart the way they had. "I--I only came to-- to check on you, Cici. I swear, I was worried, I know that it-- that it-- that this day--"

Inhale, exhale, dropping his keys again in his pocket and letting gloved hands grip the counters instead. His gaze flutters - he's been told the way he watches is unnatural, like a bug or a cat, and so he tries not to, flickering up and down and up and down and to the bouquet, and to Cici, and to his hands.

"...I will never leave y-you. Pl-please do not be sorry. You on--only startled me." That part is truth, and he says so easily.

"I try to-- to remember things like--like humans do, because it seems... Easier. More-- more simple. That is why. I-- I know it is different, for--for me. I should n-not have-- have mentioned them. I only wanted to--to ask. Can I-- can- c--c-can I--" There's another soft inhale, restarting. "Can we sit down?"

「 ❊ Carlino flinches as if he's been slapped. He's never been good when his brother raises his voice, but this feels particularly pointed - it has him flinching, nearly dropping the vase that he'd been anxiously adjusting before clasping his hands behind his back and gripping his fingers tightly. There's the lightest ache, and he squeezes tighter, inhaling harsh through his teeth.

"That is n-not what I meant and you know it. Do not-- do not y-yell at me." His voice wavers, stepping away from the counter and exhaling the breath he'd held captive in his lungs.

"It was just-- just a question, fræ. I-- I try to remember them ff-fondly. That is what humans do, do they n-not? They remember with fondness? That was all. I am ss-sorry." He bows his head, fiddling for his keys in his pocket.

"You have n-nothing to atone for. We are all we have, now. I-- I am going to go."

#dietrologie

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seborga · 1 month

Audio

“You’ve been dead for years But you never knew And the rabid bits of time Have been eating you

But no one knows where we go No one knows where we go When we’re dead or when we’re dreaming ”

#ouchie oof ouchie oof #{ mûxica || music }

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