pac-man mr. g&w R.O.B. best friends forever happy joyous fun smile

Pastello Bianco

A/N: Found this song and thought: why not? I kind of want to do a series (if you can call it that) based on Pinguini Tattici Nuceari’s songs because I’ve been listeniing to them non-stop and they’re genius! But I do not guarantee. Also, yes, hi, it’s me again, coming on here to post something nobody asked for. You can find the song here and the full English translation here. Hope you enjoy it!🍓❤

Warnings: sad times + I haven’t written in months

/ Masterlist / masterlist 2

E se m'hai visto piangere (If you saw me crying) Sappi che era un'illusione ottica (Just know that it was only an optical illusion) Stavo solo togliendo il mare dai miei occhi (I was just getting the sea out of my eyes)

Your brows knitted in confusion once you spotted Angel hunched over the bed, his back to the door, where you currently stood. You’d never seen him cry, was he crying? Yeah, you were almost sure he was. You could hear quiet sniffles.

Knocking on the door, you made your presence known, a small smile at your lips, ready to comfort him. He turned his head towards you, looking over his shoulders to see you standing at the door of his room. He turned back around, looking straight ahead and trying to compose himself, not wanting you to know that he was, in fact, crying. Wiping the few tears that were just below his lower lash line, he put on a brave face, the face that always made him look so sure of himself, he had mastered it over the years.

He got up and walked over to where you were standing, giving you a hug and a kiss on the forehead, as you let him envelope your body in his, grateful for the heat his body brought to yours, feeling calm, letting out a breath when his fingers sneaked below your shirt, making contact with the skin of your waist.

“How was your day?”, he asked, not moving from the position, keeping his cheek pressed to your head, the smell of your hair filling his nostrils and making him more at ease. “Good – you answered, your hands moving soothingly up and down his back – how ‘bout you? You okay?”, you murmured, kissing his cheek and moving your head so you could look him in the eyes.

Mi chiedi come sto e non te lo dirò (You ask me how I'm doing but I won't tell you)

“Yeah, I’m good”, he mumbled, keeping you tight against him. The way he was breathing and the sound of his voice gave him away, though, but if you noticed, which you had, you didn’t point it out: if he didn’t say what was bothering him, it meant that he didn’t want to share it and you were fine with it. He knew he could come to you if he needed help. Instead, he kept to himself, like he always did, but there was only so much he could take… it got to a point he felt like he was about to explode, and yet he didn’t let anything show, opting to cry in the shower or when sleeping alone in his bed. You already had too much on your plate, he didn’t have to add his problems. It wasn’t fair to you.

I tuoi segreti poi a chi li racconterai (So who are you going to tell your secrets to?) Tu che rimani sempre la mia password del Wi-Fi (You're still my Wi-Fi password) E chi sa se lo sai (And maybe you don't even know it)

After your breakup, he tried to set a routine that would help him not to think about you. He worked at the scrapyard, he went on rides, he went to parties, he started working out more, he was doing everything in his power to avoid letting his brain run free, trying to occupy it with other thoughts in order to keep you out of his head. The only reason he noticed that your name was still the password to his wi-fi was because the new prospect asked if he could connect his laptop to the wi-fi. And your name sounded bitter in his mouth, he said it like he almost didn’t want to pronounce it, and saying it out loud brought back all the memories that he had kept stashed in the back of his mind, he hadn’t forgotten the pain in your eyes when you parted ways, or the sound of your voice when you said goodbye for the last time.

E scrivevo tutti i miei segreti (And I used to write down all my secrets) Col pastello bianco sul diario (With a white crayon in my diary) Speravo che venissi a colorarli (Hoping you would come and color them in)

Perché un addio suona troppo serio (Goodbye sounds too serious) E allora ti dirò bye bye (So I'll just tell you "bye bye")

You approached his house with a bag in hand, full of the things that Angel had left at your apartment, and you had come to retrieve the things you had left at his place. The exchange was almost silent, you greeted each other, avoiding saying anything that could ruin the moment, no empty words or empty promises, nothing more than what was necessary. When you were done collecting your things, he was in his living room, inspecting the stuff that you had brought back almost as if he didn’t recognize his own possessions. You stood in front of the door for a few seconds, before gaining his attention by announcing that you were leaving. He came to open the door for you and watched as you put your stuff in the car, climbing in and turning the engine on. If you had to speak again, you’d have burst into tears, so you opted for a small wave, trying to control your breathing and not cry in front of him. He didn’t say goodbye, that word sounded bad, and heavy, and emotional, and he really couldn’t bring himself to even look you in the eyes as you drove away from his house. When the noise of your car was replaced by silence again, he let out a shaky breath and went back inside, having to face the memories that were encased in the bag you had returned to him.

E ti auguro il meglio, i cieli stellati, le notti migliori e le docce di altri (I wish you all the best, starry skies, the best of nights, and someone else's shower)

Dove tu forse non stonerai più (where maybe you won't be so out of tune)

While getting the shower ready after his workout, he put a random playlist on, and the sound bounced off the walls as he turned the volume higher. You liked to blame your off-key singing o the acoustics of his bathroom and he just liked poking your sides, making a funny remark about how you should audition for X-factor, then. He hoped you’d find a bathroom where your voice didn’t sound as bad as it did in his, and he hoped you’d be happy, even if it wasn’t going to be on the back of his truck while stargazing. He hoped you’d be happy, even if it wasn’t with him.

taglist: (it’s the usual one, tell me if you wanna be added or removed❣) @sesamepancakes @i-love-scott-mccall @mayans-sauce @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @angelreyesgirl @my-rosegold-soul @deeandbobbymcgee @chibsytelford @rebelwrites @littleesilvia @woahitslucyylu @sadeyesgf @elcococruz @cocotheclown @sheeshgivemeabreak @blessedboo @brattyfics @thesandbeneathmytoes @enamoured-x @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @blackmissfrizzle @thickemadame @peaches007 @ly-canthrope @justahopelessssromantic @everyhowlmarksthedead @samcrobae @cind-in-real-life @mrsjaxtellerfan @gemini0410 @brownsugarcoffy @losolvidad0s @marvelmaree @noz4a2 @-im-fantastic- @destynelseclipsa @danie1432 @krysiewithak @ellieereads @wrcn9fvlcver @buttercup812

DOLCI SICILIANI

Che folle sono stato ad iniziare a parlarti d’amore. Ti ho presentato un vassoio di dolci e biscotti dai mille colori e dal profumo di vaniglia e chioccolato, illudendoti che l’amore era il poter gustare uno dietro l’altro attimi e momenti dolcissimi. Ma ora, battendomi il petto confesso che questo vassoio di tentazioni e perdizione, non è amore. L’amore è una goccia di rugiada piena di provvisoria luce sul petalo di un fiore nell’alba in un mattino di primavera. L’amore è una rossa stella marina che cammina sul fondo del mare, unica vita in quell’ infinito dominante e freddo azzurro. L’amore è un arcobaleno che unisce due monti ma che nessuno può toccare, o rubare, che tutti ammirano e che prima o poi viene solo ricordato. L’amore quindi non dura quanto crediamo o vogliamo, ogni giorno nasce e come noi, ogni momento può morire. L’amore poi non ha bisogno delle mie parole, né del suono di una canzone e dei colori dei fiori perché lui è le parole non ancora dette, è la canzone che senti nel silenzio delle strade, è il colore che nel buio ti illumina. Non ha bisogno di essere evocato nel tuo cuore per esistere perché in esso è già presente come seme fecondo. L’amore non ha bisogno dei poeti, dei santi o di amabili donne per vivere, non ha bisogno dell’arte o delle puttane per essere desiderato. L’amore è fatto dei tuoi sogni, vive del sangue della felicità che ti dona, è impalpabile ma dominante, illusorio ma pesantemente presente, è generosamente contagioso e dolorosamente vendicativo, quando chi ami se ne va e quello che provavi vive ancora, malgrado chi amavi sia lontano, servo e padrone di un altro cuore. È questo straziante modo in cui muore quanto proviamo, questa sua fine cruenta e dolorosa che ci perseguita e che quando accade rende la nostra anima una foresta che brucia, un fiume che travolge il villaggio che attraversa, una piccola noce in cui chiudiamo l’immensità del nostro essere e di tutto quello che ha provato. È questo immenso potere che ha sulle anime vive, il suo regno infinito, il motivo per cui per noi vale quanto il sole. Lo ripeto. Sono stato folle a giocare con le parole e le immagini per raccontarti una primavera infinita, di cui viviamo a volte solo pochi estatici e terribili istanti. Sei stata folle ad ascoltarmi, a vedere nelle mie parole lo specchio in cui ritrovare le tue emozioni, a nutrirti di questi dolci illusori ma di cui hai assaporato il gusto immortale. Siamo vissuti della sabbia che stringevamo tra le mani mentre il vento la portava via; siamo stati schiuma, luminosa e leggera assorbita dalla sabbia arida; abbiamo conosciuto la bellezza e la perfezione, niente di più dovremmo aspettarci dalle nostre prossime vite. Eppure ogni giorno torno a parlartene ancora, smemorato dell’amore di ieri, assetato di quello di oggi stupito da quello di domani e tu mi ascolti come se con ogni parola rinascessero quei tuoi sogni e desideri che dell’amore assoluto sono l’inarrestabile preludio.

What a fool I was to start talking to you about love. I presented you with a tray of sweets and biscuits of a thousand colors and the scent of vanilla and chocolate, under the illusion that love was being able to enjoy very sweet moments one after the other. But now, beating my chest, I confess that this tray of temptation and perdition is not love. Love is a drop of dew full of temporary light on the petal of a flower in the dawn, of a spring morning. Love is a red starfish walking on the bottom of the sea, the only life in that dominant infinity and cold blue. Love is a rainbow that unites two mountains but that no one can touch, or steal, that everyone admires and that sooner or later is only remembered. Love therefore does not last as long as we believe or want, every day is born and like us, every moment can die. Love then does not need my words, nor the sound of a song and the colors of flowers because it is the words not yet spoken, it is the song you hear in the silence of the streets, it is the color that illuminates you in the dark. It does not need to be evoked in your heart to exist because it is already present in it as a fruitful seed. Love does not need poets, saints or lovely women to live, it does not need art or whores to be desired. Love is made of your dreams, it lives on the blood of happiness it gives you, it is impalpable but dominant, illusory but heavily present, it is generously contagious and painfully vindictive, when the one you love leaves and what you felt still lives, despite the fact that who you loved, is far away, servant and master of another heart. It is this excruciating way of dying of what we feel, this bloody and painful end of it that haunts us and that when it happens makes our soul a burning forest, a river that overwhelms the village, a small walnut in which we enclose the immensity of our to be and all that it has felt. It is this immense power that it has over living souls, its infinite kingdom, the reason why it is as good as the sun to us. I repeat. I was crazy to play with words and images to tell you about an infinite spring, of which we sometimes experience only a few ecstatic and terrible moments. You were crazy to listen to me, to see in my words the mirror in which to find your emotions, to feed on these illusory sweets but whose immortal taste you tasted. We lived on the sand we held in our hands as the wind carried it away; we were foam, luminous and light absorbed by the dry sand; we have known beauty and perfection, nothing more we should expect from our next lives. Yet every day I come back to talk to you again, forgetful of yesterday’s love, thirsty for today’s love, amazed by tomorrow’s and you listen to me as if with every word those dreams and desires of yours were reborn, which are the unstoppable prelude to absolute love.

Waking Up Is Hardest

This is a fic of my OC for ikevamp Lorenzo da Vinci (one of Leonardo’s brother historically)

This fic contains Comte’s real name so read at your own risk.

Ship: N/A

Warnings: None

Genre: none really...

“Lorenzo…. Move over.”

“Lorenzo… haha stop nuzzling me.”

A sharp pat to my shoulder guided me back to the tainted reality. Forcing my eyes open, flashes of blue and yellow exploded in my sight. The bright morning sun warmed my skin most pleasantly. The best way to wake up, in the arms of the person you loved the most. Just waking up and seeing their face there makes everything, every living minute worth it.

"Come on sleepyhead, time to get up," he said as he slid out of my arms. After that, comes the cold. The ice-cold blow of utter loss. Frantically, I tried to reach him. Clawing my way into the darkness to find him. I needed him near. I wasn't ready to let him go!...

A sharp breath. That's all it took for my everything to deplete into nothing. It's been about four centuries and even now, I am not ready to let Agnolo go. Life carries on, whether you chose to stay in the past or force yourself to move on. Sometimes you just have to swallow the lump in your throat and carry on to do the next right thing. But even now, I still can't do that.

Agnolo Ricci. The carpenter I spent my first few years away from the family home with. The best time of my life. Leo ran away from the family when he was young, leaving me on my own. Being forced under my families iron grip on how a 'da Vinci' pureblood life should be for so many years, finally moving out and living for myself was the best thing for me. I would never admit it out loud, but he was so much more than just a friend to me. He was everything you could think of. Of course, in Italia, I could never tell him I love him every day, only when it was night and we knew that none could hear us. Now I'm granted the royalty of regretting that decision my entire life.

"Ciao idiota, how are you this morning?" Leo asked me as I strayed into Comte's dining room. It's strange how comfortable Leo is. He spends his whole life around humans and seamlessly moves on when they pass. I couldn't do that, maybe that's the reason why after Agnolo's passing I ran back to my familia and stayed away from humans, so I would have to feel that pain again. Leonardo da Vinci, my biggest brother, was the strongest person I knew.

"Bonjour Lorenzo, sleep well?" the man clad in all things golden asked me. I somehow managed to swallow my inner turmoil and force a relatively believable reply.

"Si, grazie ....'Comte'.." I replied, smiling at the distinguished Frenchman.

"Oi, speak in french idiota." Snarled Leo. That's easy for him to say, he has been living in other countries all his life, he's used to not speaking Italian. I've only ever lived in Italy until a few months ago. Besides, it's awkward speaking to a Frenchman in french when your accent is lamentable.

" Thank you, Comte, for letting me stay here whilst I find some other accomod-" I spoke with very broken up french.

"Lorenzo, you don't need to thank me every day, I'm only glad to help a friend out." he smiled with the most reassuring voice. Sitting down at the table stacked with food reminded me of home in a weird way. In Italia, we would all eat at the same time in silence. Leo always described it as suffocating, but I liked it as unlike him, I actually love our familia. Well, I did before a few months ago when they tried to force my hand into some old marriage. All I did was send a letter to Leo about it, and it seems like the very next day I was travelling out of Italy with Abel to France as a means to escape. Of course, Abel being the prestigious noble he is claimed that he needed an experienced carpenter like me for some business back in France. It being 'Le Comte de Saint Germain', one of the most well-known purebloods in society, always in the spotlight, my familia said 'si' and let me go.

"Goedemorgen Lorenzo, have some of the pancakes, they are delicious!" said the angel next to me. In Abel's mansion lived some of the most well-known names in the history of the world. Social reformers all reincarnated as lesser vampires. Haha, if our familia knew what type of people we are staying with Leo and I would be dead meat!

"I'm good,grazie, Vincent. I'm fine with my spaghetti," Vincent van Gogh. The famous expressionist painter, and an actual angel. Then next to him sat Theodorus van Gogh, a famous art dealer, a devil but someone I have seemed to take as my chess partner.

"Master Lorenzo, would you like some more spaghetti?" asked the butler of the whole mansion, Sebastian. Even though he is very stoic, I can tell him and I would make good friends, he is just my type.

"I don't think you have any more room for more spaghetti, non?" asked Napoleon Bonaparte. Yes, the napoleon Bonaparte, the 'Nightmare of Europe'. 

"You'll be surprised Napoleone, never estimate how much spaghetti I can eat," I quipped at him cheekily. Even though he did change his name to sound more French, saying the Corsican version was much easier and so I use it, so far he hasn't seemed to mind. Looking across the table, I see Comte eating a plain baguette. How can he do that without his mouth drying up? 

"Abe-"

Abel looked at me sternly and coughed before I could finish the word, "It's 'Comte' Lorenzo."

 I mean maybe it is now... but I have called you by your true name for nearly fifty years now, so of course I going to trip up. I can see Leo in the corner trying to suppress laughter looking in my direction. 

".... okay... 'Comte', how can you eat nothing but baguettes?" He simply laughed a bit, eyes not leaving the newspaper before replying to me:

"you sound the exact same like another resident Italian. Leo asks me that all the time." No answer, really Abel? How annoying. It seems even after fifty years he's still as deflective as ever. 

"hey, that spaghetti is pretty good.." Smirked Leo as he slowly ate MY spaghetti...

"OI IDIOTA, PRENDI I TUOI SPAGHETTI!" I yelled before he gave me a sharp smack on the head.

"Don't get mad, and speak in French you are in FRANCE!"

I was tagged by @sciogli-lingua , grazie mille, le domande sono meravigliose e in bocca al lupo per i tuoi esami! Spero non siano troppo difficili! 

RULES: answer the 11 questions. Make 11 of your own and tag 11 people!

1. What is/are your favorite name(s)? Why, if there’s a reason?

There are a lot of names that I like but for no particular reason, they just sound lovely to me and that’s all. From Lithuanian names I like more traditional ones, my favourites for girls are Eglė or Ieva, for boys I’d say Lukas or Matas. Choosing from Italian names my absolute favourite is Emilia (would totally change my name into this one or name my daughter like that) and from boy’s names I love Marco, Filippo, Matteo, Luca.

2. If you had to be turned into an animal for a day, which one would you choose?

I’d probably be a penguin. Because that’s my favourite animal and it would be really cool to be able to tolerate cold, also swim very well. And I’m clumsy anyway so I’d make a great penguin.

3. Is it better to be early or late?

Depends what are we talking about. If it’s something simple and related to time management like arriving for an appointment then I’d say early because I was raised like that and I was always told that it’s better to wait than make someone wait for you. But if we are talking about some deeper things like feelings or accomplishments, achieving goals I’d still say it’s better early. Feelings wear off and opportunities go wasted, time runs out so there is no better time than now. I know I sometimes paraphrase a Lithuanian saying and I jokingly say that if you can do something tomorrow, never do it right now, but please don’t listen to me.

4. Rate the last movie you watched.

The last movie I watched was “The Killing of a Sacred Deer” by Yorgos Lanthimos. And oh dear it’s 11/10. I absolutely loved it and Yorgos is a master of creating and most importantly keeping suspense and that psychological horror throughout the whole movie even though the characters are intimidatingly emotionless. Great choice of actors, very beautiful cast and the soundtrack was very wisely chosen, too. I also recommend seeing “Lobster” which was the first movie to give me a feeling I still can’t describe - I hated it as much as I loved it (and I loved it a lot)

5. Do you play an instrument? If not, which one would you like to play?

Oh my, the guitar I got for my 13th birthday is somewhere in the corner of the room, all covered in dust and all I know is probably only three chords. I’d love to learn to play it one day, but so far all my tries have been unsuccessful. Also, I love the piano and I’m trying to convince my cousin to teach me in return of checking / doing his homework and school projects. 

6. What is the craziest thing you’ve ever witnessed?

I really have no idea, sorry. My life is so not fun. 

7. What would your younger self think of you if you met?

Like, if she recognised me as the “older self”? She’d probably think that I’ve changed a lot and she’d be happy for that. She’d think that I’m brave and strong (which is not true, but compared to her it really seems so). She’d probably say “I thought you’d be prettier. But at least you’re smiling more now.” And I hope she’d offer me a bit of that childish happiness she still had. 

8. If you’re not in high school anymore, what do you miss about it? If you’re still in it, what won’t you miss once you’re out?

Honestly, I don’t miss anything from high school. Nothing at all. I absolutely hated it, it was terrible and I’m glad it’s over. University is such a different place and it’s waaaaaaaay better that high school.

9. What is one talent you wish you had – and one you do have?

Oh, I wish I had any kind of talent! Being able to write poetry would be cool. I’d love to have a lovely voice to sing, too. Sadly, I have no talents at all. Dancing? NO way. Singing? I feel sorry for my neighbours when I get the urge to sing loudly. Writing? Sadly, I’m no good at it. Drawing / painting? I wish.. (I’m such a loser, I’ve just noticed)

10. Name a song everyone should listen to in their lifetime.

Vietato morire - Ermal Meta. There are a lot of great songs worth listening to, but this is the one which had the biggest impact on me and hands down it is a masterpiece. The others I’m really fond of are Truce by twenty one pilots and Therapy by All Time Low. Those were the ones which led me though tough times and still give me chills. 

11. What are you passionate about?

In general, arts. First of all, literature and more specifically - Edgar Allan Poe. He’s my favourite author and I could talk about him and his works for hours. I love movies too, I admit I haven’t seen a lot of classics but I have a list of some great films I could recommend. I am very fascinated by sculpture, especially the works of Gian Lorenzo Bernini. Obviously, I love music and apart from those popular artists that I listen, I like some classics too. “Experience” and “I Giorni” by Ludovico Einaudi is a must-listen. I have never heard anything more beautiful, I swear. 

My questions:

1. What is your biggest weakness and what is your greatest strength?

2. What is your dream, your goal you’d never give up on?

3. If there was a person who could give an answer to any kind of question in the world (from the most personal ones to the weirdest), what would you ask?

4. Talk about your favourite movie. Why do you like it? What it means to you (if anything)?

5. What is your favourite quote? Why?

6. There is a lyric in one song that I really love: “Perché quello che sono, l`ho imparato da te” (”Because what I am, I learned it from you”) Who is the person that taught you what you are (not what you know)? How did they help / influence your personal formation / growth?

7. I’ve heard people saying “I loved the stars but then I found out they require maths”. If there we absolutely no limits, what career path would you choose? 

8. Tell me your latest discovery (it can be even the smallest thing, a new hobby, a new book you loved, anything)

9. If you were a power of nature (wind, storm, rain, sun, thunder, lightning, ect.) what would you be? Why?

10. What kind of person you aspire to be? What kind of traits you’ve already got? And what is still left to improve?

11. Choose a song as a soundtrack for today. What matches your mood and which lyric speaks to you the most today?

I tag: @ohermal @willevince @nineteeninetyeight @ermalmeta @peterpanvuoivolareconme @arsenalmakesmesuffer @the-infamous-wine-bottle​ @mariogolmez @kristian-kostov anyone else who wants to do it!

Solo -

Ibiza Spain

Part Two

The girls are playing in the sand; I saw Matteo Amante watching with this right hand, then Ashley Lynn comes running to me. “Mama can l play in the water” I got up, picking up Angel Savannah walking with her on my hip l heard a whistle I knew anywhere Master Gunnery Sergeant Nick Carboni and Master Gunnery Sergeant Thomas Trooper; I smiled, kissing them both on their cheeks. Trooper takes his niece. Angel Savannah is giggling at Trooper. “We have a date, little ladies; we have movie night so Mama can have a date with Matteo Amante,” Trooper winked at me. Nick didn’t like the idea that I’m going out with someone involved with the mafia. “I don't think it a great idea” I looked at Nick. “I don't give a fuck what you think about Matteo; he hasn't curse in front of the girls. Does Matteo see me with Nick?” I shake my head at Nick, start to walk away from Nick Trooper, and the girls are with me. Matteo taps his cheek to the girls for a kiss. They giggling at him kiss him. He tried to do that with me, I whisper to him in Italian. “Desideriamo” (You wish) Matteo. “Ti faccio realizzare I tuoi sogni McKenzie” (I make all your dreams come true, McKenzie.) he has that smug smirks on this face. All l want to do smack the fuck out of him.

Matteo grabs my wrist, pulling me close against his body; I knew he was very muscular; he took my breath away; the chemistry with Matteo is like with Jayce, my head is spinning, Matteo place his hand on my back, making sure l don’t fall. The girls come in where we are. “Mama, can l have a cookie with Angel Savannah? The lady in the kitchen said that” I snap out of it and l bend down to Ashley Lynn. Matteo watch me with Ashley Lynn. “Yes, you can. Her name is #Alice, remember your manners also” She giggles at Matteo. Ashley Lynn whispers to me. “Mama, it’s time to start dating me like him” I looked at Ashley Lynn, blushing because of Matteo being here. I whisper to Ashley Lynn. “Maybe, when you're older.” Ashley Lynn pouts at me. Matteo's housekeeper comes in. “Miss Rossi, I wasn’t sure she was allowed a cookie. I just gave Angel Savannah some milk in her cup that Mr. Amante for her” I hear the very thick Italian accent. “They are allow anything you feed them; I just hope they aren’t messing up your kitchen.” She laughs and smiled. “I knew Mr. Amante's family for years. Mr. Amante uses to bake with me when he was younger.” I smiled at Alice, feeling more comfortable with Matteo's home. He steps back into the living room where we are. “Alice, would you mind staying with the girls tonight?” Matteo had a grin on his face. “I can enjoy your evening,” Ashley Lynn took Alice’s right hand walked into the kitchen. Matteo grin. “There is a dress waiting for you, McKenzie” #TBC