Claudia Murachelli Harp

The first ray of sun

LaFallenAngel85

Summary:

(...)"The way he sat at his desk while studying was irresistibly attractive to him. He stares at him, careful not to be discovered, careful not to break that delicate spell. His partner was standing with his back turned, one shoulder slightly higher than the other, his chin resting on his left hand while he twirled a pencil between his fingers in his right, absentmindedly, without making the slightest sound. He never dropped that pencil, perfectly in control even if his movements seemed to be mere random. His gaze fixed on the book, captivated, as if the rest of the world had simply disappeared. Viktor could stay in that position for hours, and Jayce couldn't explain how he managed it. With all the back problems he had, it would have seemed normal to see him move, stretch, or flex every now and then, but no. He didn't even get up to pee, so focused on studying that he forgot about anything else.(...)"

Hollow Knight Silksong main theme, my version for Celtic harp

My JayVik fanficions on AO3 <3 Thanks for reading :3

"Oh oh oh! Angel, I have a permit!" 😈

😈 "Angel, are you doing that thing? That thing with the halo?"

Jesters and bards in the Middle Ages. Aziraphale and Crowley travel through time.

熱き闘志 - Waki Agaru Toushi - The Raising Fighting Spirit MUSASHI PROJECT NARUTO ORIGINAL SOUNDTRACK ℗ 2003 TV Tokyo

You and Me: The Jesters of the Middle Ages.

A bench that travels through time... xD

Nda: Ok, well, I know, it's Monday XD but Sunday is a state of mind XD I was tagged by @red-shameless but for me it's the first time and I don't know the rules of the game XD Sorry for any errors :3

Since I tried to prepare something but I can't get to 6 paragraphs by a hair, I thought I'd share with you a fragment of my Good Omens Fanfiction "What if my days were just a dream? - Revelations part two and final", hoping not to break any rules. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- < Crowley remained motionless, Muriel’s hand tightened around his wrist, he couldn’t free himself and it was starting to burn his skin. Then there it was! He heard it clearly… a voice… not just any voice…The Voice resonated, powerful and austere in his head. It called him by his name, the one with which he had been created, the one he had not heard for millennia and, in a short time, he had heard clearly twice. It was not a coincidence, it could not be… <.... My rebellious and adored son, I beg you, protect this newborn. The fate of this world depends on her. Protect her above all from those who are surrounded by halos of sanctity>  Wisps of smoke rose from the wrist gripped by the cherub, the pain was excruciating, there was the smell of burning flesh in the air. That name again… Crowley felt tears in his eyes, not only from the smoke and the pain…then the grip on his wrist loosened until it disappeared and Muriel collapsed to the floor like an empty sack.

Crowley finally managed to raise his arm, he looked at his wrist…the shape of the Cherub’s fingers was a fiery red brand on his skin, a hot and pulsating brand… A miracle? This time there was no doubt. There was only one entity that could do all this and call him by his true name, which had, fortunately for him, been forbidden for thousands of years. 

He found himself gnashing his teeth, a sinister and constant whistle coming out of his mouth, his body rigid and tense like a violin string, his fists so clenched that his nails hurt the palms of his hands. A visceral, ancient and ancestral anger was growing inside him, charging him with static electricity. He turned abruptly and, with a stiff and martial step, left the bookshop. Once outside he stopped standing in the middle of the sidewalk, while the London sky suddenly became pitch black.

An urban legend is passed down among the shopkeepers of Soho. It is said that when a thin man, dressed in black with red hair appears on the street, a very strong storm is coming. Truth or fiction, the fact is that that evening a violent storm broke out across London, without the weather forecast having predicted it. A storm of lightning caused numerous blackouts, the manhole covers blew up due to the fury of the waters. The incessant rain quickly turned into hail that opened deep gashes in the awnings of the shops, breaking the windows and denting the cars. The wind uncovered roofs and overturned everything in its path. A sort of tropical storm, the experts would later pronounce, the fault of climate change and global warming.

As I stood there, straight as a die, in the rain of my own making, I began to dream. Let's get one thing straight: demons don't dream. They remember the past, EXTREMELY vividly, and sometimes they have visions of the future, but you can't say they dream. But I don't know how else to describe what I saw and experienced in that moment. I saw you in that crowd. I didn't recognize you at first…you were…different…and yet my heart knew, it beat, even if the heart of a demon doesn't need to beat. I tried to talk to you, but I couldn't. The words dripped out of my lips, diving into puddles, mingling with the rain and my tears. I looked for your arms, but I passed through them, it was as if I didn't exist. I felt pain, a pain in my chest like I had never felt before, not even in that moment when I fell. It was unbearable, not being seen, not being recognized… I just wanted it to be over… for it all to be over… everything. And then it all really disappeared. The pain, the light… everything. The world suddenly went dark, only fleetingly lit by silver lightning, not even my eyes could see. Is this… the end of the world? >

Summary:

Funny couple life stories...true events xD

A little preview of what we are preparing :3 stay tuned