Ncantari - ᴸᴬ 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐇𝐄 .

lucrezia guides emilia's bloody hands under a faucet / water source and begins washing them clean.

the water was too warm. it made the blood feel thicker somehow —  less  like  something  to  be  washed  away  and  more  like  something  that  had  sunk  too  deep  to  ever  really  leave.

emilia  didn’t  speak.  her  eyes  remained  fixed  on  their  hands  beneath  the  faucet,  the  red  swirling  down  the  drain  in  ghostly  ribbons.  lucrezia’s  touch  was  steady,  reverent  even,  like  a  priestess  performing  a  ritual  rather  than  a  someone  scrubbing  sin  from  skin.  ❝ you don’t have to do this, ❞ emilia  murmured  finally,  her  voice  low,  almost  hoarse.  not  from  pain.  from  restraint.  ❝  I'm not some frightened girl in ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵃᵇˢᵒˡᵘᵗᶦᵒⁿ. ❞ but  she  didn’t  pull  away.  because  for  all  the  blood  she’d  spilled,  there  was  something  strangely  disarming  about  lucrezia’s  hands  —  so  calm,  so  sure,  as  if  she’d  done  this  before.  maybe  she  had.  maybe  that’s  why  emilia  stayed  still.  why  she  let  her.  because  only  someone  with  her  own  share  of ʀᴜɪɴ could  understand  what  it  meant  to  do  terrible  things  …  and  still  want  to  be  touched  gently  after. her  gaze  finally  lifted,  meeting  lucrezia’s  with  a  quiet  defiance  —  and  something  else  flickering  behind  it.  not  regret.  never  regret.  just  …  weight. ❝ are you always this gentle with ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀs? ❞

“Both the bitter and the sweet, both a honey-tongued blessing and a curse.”

— Miklós Radnóti, from All That Still Matters At All: Poems; “A Gentle Breeze,”

something ive noticed while reading dantes inferno is that there seems to be a lot of italians in hell

the spirit is not willing and the flesh it is not so into the idea either

“I inherited my moms anger” “i inherited my dads coldness” well i inherited my grandmas spooky glowing red skull amulet and my towns has seen nothing but locusts swarms and floods since

Women who don't hold back their tongue vibe. 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Deva Cassel as ANGELICA SEDARA IL GATTOPARDO (THE LEOPARD) — 2025

♱ ⠀⠀… ⠀⠀𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓 ⠀⠀𝐈𝐓 ⠀⠀𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘 ⠀⠀.

⠀⠀… ⠀⠀non⠀è⠀un⠀𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔪𝔬,⠀sei⠀solo⠀IN⠀FISSA⠀.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃⠀𝐁𝐘⠀﹕⠀@ashbalfour & @gunfear i could only ever dream of being able to keep up with you beauties but thank u for letting me try

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆⠀⠀ ⠀﹕⠀@herfacade , @gorekissed , @heiliqe & @pistolmadeofroscs

" oh my god. oh my god, oh my god, what the fuck? is that what i fucking think it is? "

emilia's  muscles  tensed  as  she  slowly  turned  to  face  him,  her  expression  shifting  into  something  colder.  the  air  around  her  seemed  to  thrum  with  tension,  as  though  she  was  measuring  every  word  that  came  next.  she  was  calm  —  too  calm  perhaps  —  her  voice  sliced  through  the  air  like  a  blade  when  she  turned  around  to  face  the  source  of  her  irritation.

❝  keep your voice ᴰᴼᵂᴺ.  ❞

her  eyes  ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ  ʷᵃʳᵐ  ᵃⁿᵈ  ᶦⁿᵛᶦᵗᶦⁿᵍ  were  now  frozen,  and  beneath  the  cold  was  a  burning  intensity  —  one  that  whispered  of  past  battles  faced.  ❝  and  don’t ask  questions  you  don’t  want  the  answers  to.  ❞  emilia  took  a  small  step  closer,  her  presence  suddenly  feeling  like  a  ᵂᴬᴿᴺᴵᴺᴳ.