Pinning moths with slabs of stone, by drcalvin (M)
Fandom: RÓMEÓ ÉS JÚLIA
Pairing: Mercutio/Tybalt
Length: 7869 words
Author on LJ | Tumblr: drcalvin | drcalvin
Author Website: fic on AO3
Why this must be read:
This is a gorgeously lyrical and complex exploration of both Tybalt and Mercutio's backstories, highlighting both their similarities and the fundamental differences that make them hate each other. I particularly love this take on Tybalt's possible relationship with religion, as well as the vicious banter between Tybalt and Mercutio (the hatesex is hot, too). As a bonus there are also some gorgeous illustrations of young Tybalt and Mercutio by Atov.
"I'll do that," he whispers. Yes. That is good; his Latin isn't the finest. The long prayers sometimes lose sense and meaning as the devotion drones on, but they do come from his heart. They do. He will offer them generously, if not well.
And Tybalt bends his head and prays, prays for clemency and a cure, prays with the heartfelt despair of a child already used to seeing his dreams crumbling. While he mouths the words and clutches his hands until they hurt and behind him on the road the family retainers bend their heads and offer their own hopes, he prays also in silence, inside his heart. And that prayer is born of terror, and the hope that all-seeing eyes do not look at the doubts, sprouting thick like thistles inside his heart.
Pinning moths with slabs of stone | illustrations by Atov
If you enjoy this story, please take a moment to tell the author. Tiny fandom writers always appreciate encouragement!
Pairing: Mercutio/Tybalt
Length: 7869 words
Author on LJ | Tumblr: drcalvin | drcalvin
Author Website: fic on AO3
Why this must be read:
This is a gorgeously lyrical and complex exploration of both Tybalt and Mercutio's backstories, highlighting both their similarities and the fundamental differences that make them hate each other. I particularly love this take on Tybalt's possible relationship with religion, as well as the vicious banter between Tybalt and Mercutio (the hatesex is hot, too). As a bonus there are also some gorgeous illustrations of young Tybalt and Mercutio by Atov.
"I'll do that," he whispers. Yes. That is good; his Latin isn't the finest. The long prayers sometimes lose sense and meaning as the devotion drones on, but they do come from his heart. They do. He will offer them generously, if not well.
And Tybalt bends his head and prays, prays for clemency and a cure, prays with the heartfelt despair of a child already used to seeing his dreams crumbling. While he mouths the words and clutches his hands until they hurt and behind him on the road the family retainers bend their heads and offer their own hopes, he prays also in silence, inside his heart. And that prayer is born of terror, and the hope that all-seeing eyes do not look at the doubts, sprouting thick like thistles inside his heart.
Pinning moths with slabs of stone | illustrations by Atov
If you enjoy this story, please take a moment to tell the author. Tiny fandom writers always appreciate encouragement!