#compulsoryblood

Octavian breathed in slowly, deeply. He considered his words carefully, saying nothing until he was certain that he had weighed all potential consequences. It was not his intent to push his sister away – truly, he feared the potential of her being lost to him forever. But he could neither continue to lie to her nor pretend that their relationship was not somehow changed by recent events – and by recent events, he meant a singular event, or short sequence of events. He met a woman. And he had instantly been enthralled.

“I know that I have said, more times than any man could count, that I love you and that you are, truly and deeply, the only love that I could ever have in my life,” he began slowly, sounding almost emotionless despite his words, “and this is still true – I still love you as dearly as ever. But I can’t pretend that you are the only one,” he paused, “you are irreplaceable, so do not think you have been replaced. But I have met someone else. Her name is Livia.”

listen here

“And you’re ever warm, sister – even your cheek is hot against my hand,” and so he kept it there, his thumb lightly stroking across the softness, repeatedly, hypnotically – the stresses of his triumvirate lifting from his shoulders the more he touched. There was never a moment he felt more comfortable than when he was being held in his sister’s arms, buried in her warmth, surrounded by her scent and– Antony. Mark Antony. Octavian’s blood ran cold, and then hot.

It was a feral, primal sort of sheer possessiveness that stirred within him, and it led him to pull her closer – to bury himself in her so deeply that her clothing would drop Antony’s scent and pick up his own; so that the next time Antony drew near enough to her, he would know that Octavian had been there first, and more, and better; that she loved him more than she would ever love Antony, if she ever loved Antony.

“Do you love me, dear sister? Truly?” he asked as though he was uncertain of what answer she might give, though he knew more than well what it would be – he wanted to hear her say it. Octavia’s heart belonged to Octavian alone, never to Antony.

The mental projection was unnecessary. Even if it were that he had no power at all, he would have been able to tell so plainly Daniel’s desire with the way that it was written on his face and embedded deeply in his gaze. Daniel was as physically open as a book, and his invitation rang clear as a song. When Armand approached, it was without question or hesitation. And although some time had passed since they had last been together, Armand melted against him so naturally, as though only a single sunrise had separated them.

NO ONE in this cursed city mattered more to her than Tybalt. He was her cousin, her family, her protector. Truth was, the young Capulet could not even think about a world without him in it.  

❛ Oh, Tybalt! ❜ 

She exclaimed with a bright smile dancing on her lips as she squeezed his hands. Some in Verona would said Juliet was a spoiled child, and truth be told she was when it came to love. At least by her Nurse and Tybalt, and it was often more than enough.

❛ I hope you know and never forget how much you mean to me, how important you will always be. ❜ 

There was a pause now as Juliet thought about how true her words were. The two of them were fairly inseparable during their younger years, and even now she still adored the time they spent together. They both had changed and the Capulet was not deaf to the rumors of fights concerning her cousin, nor was she blind to the bruises he sometimes wore. 

❛ And remember that you are the best person I know. ❜

random (useless) hc.

            Sirius can ride a broom---he’s just not very fond of doing it, which means he’s never practiced enough to get good at it.  He’s competent enough to use one in an emergency, should he need to go from point A to point B and can’t use any other means of magical transportation, but when it comes down to more complex skills, he’s out of his depth.