#Autem moon

[autemka]

Now Folks…. MY TURN destroy you with cuteness.~ Ruru and Moonie ^^

@laughterfixs also snuggled in to see Ruin, I know you love him so I’m not gonna stop till I MELT YA in Love.~ 😜

[thewhumpcaretaker]

vincent and john are soooo opposites to me. quite literally sun and moon. they’re mirrors of each other. it’s highly theorized vincent’s backstory was riddled with hardships. and i think, if they go with that path in explaining vincent’s backstory, it would just make an even more tragic character. john—he grows up horribly, he had absolutely NO ONE in his life. his life was the ruska roma. his life was nothing but the horrors of life. he was forced to be a child soldier. he was built to be a stoic man. and then, the same sort of horrible backstory for vincent happens. and i think it just makes him more of a tragic character because unlike john; who WINS, who gains his peace, who manages to have some semblance of life and happiness—vincent doesn’t get either. vincent dies in the middle of his moment in his life where it’s his happiness (for john, his moment of happiness is helen and for vincent, it’s his time as marquis) and honestly fuck. vincent being a still developing character that DIES is so audhshzbsjsdhe

Wait, I can make it sadder. We don’t even know if Vincent was having a moment of happiness as Marquis. Maybe he never really knew what true happiness was, and was caught up in power struggles and stress and hardships even during his reign. Plagued by memories of his childhood and wondering why the present life wasn’t giving him the fulfillment he expected. It’s always the next big thing that will make him happy - gaining a Table seat didn’t work so he must need to become Autem Imperator. That didn’t work so he must need to kill the legendary John Wick. Then he’ll be happy…right? He was never given the kind of moment of happiness that saved John. Helen’s memory got John through the worst of times and helped him make the right decisions, but Vincent never experienced anything like that so he didn’t know what was possible.

There’s just one part that’s a little off here: Vincent doesn’t die. I don’t know what you’re talking about. John is his Helen! John spares his life and protects him while he slowly learns what true happiness feels like and what it means to be nurtured and how to direct violent urges into productive avenues like righteous revenge ^_^ Who said anything about death? Vincent gets his moment of happiness in John Wick 5: Beyond Judgement - *gets dragged off the stage*

[vvarvvon]

weaponry.

last update: 08.26.24

AERON

aeron uses a bone steel battle axe that transforms into a bracelet when not in use. it was forged using the blood of hellhounds by aeron himself. it is named døden ikke lenger.

ANAKIN

anakin doesn’t see much battle. when he does, he prefers the sword. call him basic, average, whatever, but he finds his stygian iron blade, named michelle after his late mother, to be quick, clean, & efficient. the blade was a gift from thanatos after michelle’s death.

ASPH

asph has two weapons—memoria autem ferrum & amissa causa. memoria was janus’s blade, passed on to danielle to give to asph when he came of age. the blade becomes a hip pouch when not in use. amissa causa is the weapon he prefers. it’s a javelin enchanted to always return to him and become a ring when not in use.

CEADER

ceader prefers his baseball bat named ausculor (or, rather, a mace called ausculor as the legion rolled their eyes at a sports tool being used for combat�� it’s totally a bat, tho), but if there’s no time to call it to him, he’ll pick up a random object to bludgeon his opponent with.

CYRENE

cyrene has a staff with a crescent moon shaped blade on one end. (yes, i am taking cues from moon knight. it’s a cool design!) it is khonsu’s and was given to her by osiris when she first encountered danger after resurrection. couldn’t let the first egyptian demigod(?) in a while die, now could he?

HAILEY

hailey uses the dagger. hers is a celestial bronze blade called lucky bitch.

JACE

jace is steeped in demigod danger through his job. as such, he carries weapons aplenty. the one closest to him is a pocket knife of imperial gold; it’s carried on his jeans’ straps. there’s a bow and full quiver in the trunk, two swords in the backseat’s floorboard, and one of those massive flashlights that feel like they should be weapons in the glove compartment. one sword is imperial gold, the other is celestial bronze. his arrowtips are adamantine. the flashlight is just a regular flashlight.

JAKKE

jakke mostly uses spells in battle. however, he does have a pistol made for him by hecate—magikós dimiourgós—that he still uses when he either depletes his magic reserves or simply wants to use an actual weapon. the bullets are pure magic, which is why the magazine never runs out no matter how many times the gun is fired. when not in use, it turns into a tattoo on jakke’s right palm.

JAVAN

javan has telumkinesis, which translates to being able to proficiently use any weapon as soon as he picks it up. partly due to his power, partly due to boredom, javan has spent the years since his death mastering every weapon type he can get his hands on. his favorites will always be the bow & arrow, as it is the one weapon he had mastered pre-death, and the rifle. however, unlike most of his peers, he doesn’t stick to one specific bow or one specific rifle—he will use whichever he can get his hands on.

LILLIAN

lillian, as a tribute to her mother, chose the sickle as a weapon. she does also carry a dagger and a pocket knife. but the sickle—that’s what she prides herself on. her sickle is named interfector pater. because of her weapon of choice, lillian specializes in close combat and fights dirty.

LUNA

luna uses her hemokinesis to create a long sword. she calls this sword havets kall. she was also gifted a leister (fishing spear) named bølgemaker by her father on her first week's anniversary of becoming an einherji. it was forged using the blood of the kraken as it is what he could get his hands on to create such a gift.

MARLY-ALICE

when it comes time to use weapons, marly-alice only has the silver bow of the hunters.

MILLS

mills is famous around camp for being shit at fighting. he’s tried every standard weapon (swords, daggers, bows, maces). he’s tried the weapons there’s only a few of users of (scythes, kyoketsu-shoges, axes, tonfas). nothing has stuck.

NOËL

noël, after finding out her mother was jötunn, pouring her heart into finding out everything about viking norse traditions. as such, she found out about bone steel. what better way to connect to her divine heritage than to forge a couple of bone steel weapons? her first attempt was a couple of arnis bastons. her father practiced arnis and so did she. after perfecting her crafting technique, noël moved on to making a kyoketsu-shoge. after forging the weapons, she had them enchanted to turn into bracelet cuffs and a carabiner respectively. with the enchantments came names—snømaskin and glacies.

REMY

remy's a brawler. he gets close, takes the damage others couldn't. as such, he has a set of "brass" knuckles made of imperial gold, named a fortiori. however, he also carries a vials of centaur blood on a silver chain around his neck.

RHIS

like all hunters, rhis has a silver bow given to her by artemis. unlike other hunters, rhis prefers to use her umbrakinesis to create whatever weapon she needs out of shadows. her favorite is the scythe as a massive scythe made of shadows cuts a terrifying image on the battlefield. she calls this scythe af jagten.

ORION

orion tried different weapons after getting to camp before setting on a celestial bronze xiphos. he still prefers to use his hands, but chiron insisted on the sword.

SAWYER

sawyer found a set of ring blades with rainbow coloring and immediately set to learning how to use them. she is dagger-trained as well, considering the amount of holographic knives she has bought. however, sawyer finds her ring blades to be the coolest, so they are what she prefers.

SHEAMUS

sheamus has a short sword. he keeps it in his new rome apartment, never taking it out of its sheath unless it’s time for war games. the blade is plain steel, not a divine metal, so it only works on those with mortal blood (so, not monsters), but that’s a-ok since he’s only ever using it against demigods.

STETSON

stetson uses a break-action shotgun, making his own shells filled with a mix of adamantine and celestial bronze.

TRIS

tris has a celestial bronze pocket knife encased in a comb (example of what i’m thinking of). it’s mostly for show since his security team is mostly fellow demigods who can combat the monsters who find ways into his concerts / general life. he can fight, tris just prefers not to as the mist has distorted him into seeing monsters where there aren’t any.

NAME TRANSLATIONS:

døden ikke lenger: death no more.

michelle: michelle… that one’s obvious.

memoria autem ferrum: blade of memory.

amissa causa: the lost cause.

ausculor: to kiss.

lucky bitch: lucky bitch… that one’s also obvious.

magikós dimiourgós: magic maker.

interfector pater: father killer.

havets kall: call of the sea.

bølgemaker: wave maker.

snømaskin: snow maker.

glacies: glacier.

a fortiori: from strength.

af jagten: of the hunt.

[rcdiostcrs]

my pjo characters & weaponry, a comprehensive list.

triggers: weapons, guns (felt that deserves its own label since guns aren't canon-typical; rifles & shotguns), canon-typical violent themes, death mentions last update: 01.28.24

aeron

aeron uses a bone steel battle axe that transforms into a bracelet when not in use. it was forged using the blood of hellhounds by aeron himself. it is named døden ikke lenger.

anakin

anakin doesn't see much battle. when he does, he prefers the sword. call him basic, average, whatever, but he finds his stygian iron blade, named michelle after his late mother, to be quick, clean, & efficient. the blade was a gift from thanatos after michelle's death.

asph ( post )

asph has two weapons—memoria autem ferrum & amissa causa. memoria was janus's blade, passed on to danielle to give to asph when he came of age. the blade becomes a hip pouch when not in use. amissa causa is the weapon he prefers. it's a javelin enchanted to always return to him and become a ring when not in use.

ceader

ceader prefers weapons of opportunity. sure, he has a baseball bat named ausculor (or, rather, a mace called ausculor as the legion rolled their eyes at a sports tool being used for combat... it's totally a bat, tho), but if there's no time to call it to him, he'll pick up a random object to bludgeon his opponent with.

cyrene

cyrene has a staff with a crescent moon shaped blade on one end. (yes, i am taking cues from moon knight. it's a cool design!) it's khonshu's and was given to her by osiris when she first encountered danger after resurrection. couldn't let the first egyptian demigod(?) in a while die, now could he?

hailey

hailey uses the dagger. hers is a celestial bronze blade called lucky bitch.

jace

jace is steeped in demigod danger through his job. as such, he carries weapons aplenty. the one closest to him is a pocket knife of imperial gold; it's carried on his jeans' straps. there's a bow and full quiver in the trunk, two swords in the backseat's floorboard, and one of those massive flashlights that feel like they should be weapons in the glove compartment. one sword is imperial gold, the other is celestial bronze. his arrowtips are adamantine. the flashlight is just a regular flashlight.

javan ( post )

javan has telumkinesis, which translates to being able to proficiently use any weapon as soon as he picks it up. partly due to his power, partly due to boredom, javan has spent the years since his death mastering every weapon type he can get his hands on. his favorites will always be the bow & arrow, as it is the one weapon he had mastered pre-death, and the rifle. however, unlike most of his peers, he doesn't stick to one specific bow or one specific rifle—he will use whichever he can get his hands on.

lillian

lillian, as a tribute to her mother, chose the sickle as a weapon. she does also carry a dagger and a pocket knife. but the sickle—that's what she prides herself on. her sickle is named interfector pater. because of her weapon of choice, lillian specializes in close combat and fights dirty.

marly-alice

when it comes time to use weapons, marly-alice only has the silver bow of the hunters.

mills

mills is famous around camp for being shit at fighting. he's tried every standard weapon (swords, daggers, bows, maces). he's tried the weapons there's only a few of users of (scythes, kyoketsu-shoges, axes, tonfas). nothing has stuck.

noël

noël, after finding out her mother was joutunn, pouring her heart into finding out everything about viking traditions. as such, she found out about bone steel. what better way to connect to her divine heritage than to forge a couple of bone steel weapons? her first attempt was a couple of arnis bastons. her father practiced arnis and so did she. after perfecting her crafting technique, noël moved on to making a kyoketsu-shoge. after forging the weapons, she had them enchanted to turn into bracelet cuffs and a carabiner respectively. with the enchantments came names—snømaskin and glacies.

rhis

like all hunters, rhis has a silver bow given to her by artemis. unlike other hunters, rhis prefers to use her umbrakinesis to create whatever weapon she needs out of shadows. her favorite is the scythe as a massive scythe made of shadows cuts a terrifying image on the battlefield.

sawyer

sawyer found a set of ring blades (i couldn't find their actual name) with rainbow coloring and immediately set to learning how to use them. she is dagger-trained as well, considering the amount of holographic knives she has bought. however, sawyer finds her ring blades to be the coolest, so they are what she prefers.

sheamus

sheamus has a short sword. he keeps it in his new rome apartment, never taking it out of its sheath unless it's time for war games. the blade is plain steel, not a divine metal, so it only works on those with mortal blood (so, not monsters), but that's a-ok since he's only ever using it against demigods.

stetson

stetson uses a break-action shotgun, making his own shells filled with a mix of adamantine and celestial bronze.

tris

tris has a celestial bronze pocket knife encased in a comb (example of what i'm thinking of). it's mostly for show since his security team is mostly fellow demigods who can combat the monsters who find ways into his concerts / general life. he can fight, tris just prefers not to as the mist has distorted him into seeing monsters where there aren't any.

NAME TRANSLATIONS:

døden ikke lenger: death no more.

michelle: michelle... that one's obvious.

memoria autem ferrum: blade of memory.

amissa causa: the lost cause.

ausculor: to kiss.

lucky bitch: lucky bitch... that one's also obvious.

interfector pater: father killer.

snømaskin: snow maker.

glacies: glacier.

[viviabrown]

Virus cannot prevent me from celebrating the Mid-Autumn Festival!

The Mid-Autem Festival falls on October 15th of the Chinese lunar calendar,when moon is at its fullest in one year.We often reunite with families and enjoy the moonlight and mooncakes together.

Now I'm in a quarantine in my school dorm.Although we cannot stay with families,we celebrate Mid-autem festival with our roomates happily!Wearing hanfu(traditional Chinese clothes),enjoying mooncakes,using chopsticks to make a traditional lantern,enjoying the beautiful moon from the window,drink to soft music,making lovely paper cutouts(why so many rabbits?Well,there is a pretty fariy called Change(嫦娥）living in the moon in Chinese mythology,and she has a rabbit called Yutu（玉兔，which means jade rabbit or rabbit which as beautiful as jade）……

但愿人长久，千里共婵娟。 (wish all of my friends and families good safety and health,enjoy the same gorgeous moonlight even we are thousands meters apart)

[vladdocs]

ENG: 1459 and Basarab? Near Sighisoara, (1459) on January 21, a pretender to the throne of Wallachia, a certain Basarab, tries to find ways to win over the people of Brasov and promises the judges and the council of Brasov help against the oppressors of their city, and instead hopes for support in the fight against his opponent. Taking into account the behavior of Brasov regarding Wallachia, as well as the lesson taught by Vlad Voivode Tepes already in 1457, the letter is accurately dated to 1459. Some historians even note that it was precisely established that the letter was written in 1459, because it was in this year that the feast of St. Agnes fell on Sunday. I will note that Basarab was warmed by Transylvania, he writes already near Sighisoara and already in 1459 calls himself the voivode of Wallachia. Seal: 32 mm, red wax, on the reverse side, the letter is wrapped. Salutationem debito cum honore, domini et amici nobis honorandi. Noveritis me in sanitate, quam sanitatem audivi et valeo audire semper et in omni tempore de vestris dominationibus et amicitiis. Nos percepimus et audivimus quid vestra dominatio et amicitia nobis intimastis per Cresta iudicem et per alios vestros consocios et intimationes libenter recepimus et salutavimus et nos libenter venissemus inter vestras amicitias, sed bene scimus quod estis pradati et percruciati et ergo non venimus. Ideo petimus vestras dilectiones, quod si abueritis talem timorem de Transalpinarum vel de alia parte, unde esset vobis grave debetis, in brevi 1) intimare nos volumus adiutorem in persona domini regis vel quinque centum vel sex vel autem plures homines dare, quantos videtis quod possitis tenere. Si autem timorem proprium magnum abueritis vos debetis intimare. Nos in persona nostra erimus ibi inter vestras dilectiones et nobis apparet, quod post deum omnipotentem vel morio autem vestros malefactores et interdictos vestros recipere de vos. Manete cum deo omnipotenti et rogati deum quia dabit vos vultis. Datum in una villa 2) penes Segeswar feria 3) in festo sanctae Agnetis. Et 4) quid vobis dicet Zlaw de Fogaras ex parte nostra fidem et fabulam eius credere debeatis tamquam a nostro proprio ore etcetera. Bazarab waywoda Transsalpinensis amicus et minor vester in omnibus. On the other side: Circumspectis viris iudici, iuratis ceterisque civibus de Brasso dominis et amicis nostris plurimum honorandis 1) brev. 2) vita. 3) vna is crossed out. 4) from here to et cetera is taken out. It is interesting here that the author signs Basarab voivode of Wallachia, not Io Dan voivode, as Dan signed in letters dated March 4, 1459, April 2, 1459 and others (less than 2 months difference), but Basarab and only. Dan never called himself that in his letters, and even did not use the name Basarab, he never signed himself "Bazarab waywoda Transsalpinensis amicus et minor vester in omnibus", but " I am Given the Governor of the Mercy of the Leaders of the Lords (and this is even in his Latin letter from Marienburg 1459, April 2). The seal of Dan depicts a crowned figure turned to the right with a scepter and an apple, next to it is a bird turned to the left with a cross in its beak. Dan's seal was as follows: + The seal of the Iω Is given By the Voivode of the Gnh. Usually it was 20, 26, 2 x 27 mm. The same seal is 32 mm. In a letter dated March 1, 1460, the seal is generally outstanding- On the red and black silk cord there were as many as 15 seals (a number of which are the seals of the boyars), of which 13 are the following: 1. Round, 10 mm. There is a cross in the center of the circle, a crescent moon on the right, a star on the left, and a geometric figure on the bottom. 2. Another octagonal seal, 10 mm, with a primitive image of an animal 3. 13 mm, the seal shows a coat of arms shield, with a horse on the hind legs, an inscription on the edges of the seal. 4. 13 mm, damaged. 5. 19 mm, green wax. The seal shows a coat of arms shield with the image of an animal turned to the right, on the rears. Helmet cap . There is an inscription in Latin letters on the edges of the seal.

6. 24 mm, red wax, on the seal from left to right an inverted figure with a scepter, in the middle of a tree, on the right a raven with a cross in its beak. The inscription on the edges of the seal. 7. 12 mm. On the seal is a shield with a helmet. 8. 12 mm. 9. Round, 14 mm. A crescent moon and a bull's head , the sun on the left, the moon on the right. 10. Round, 10 mm. 11 and 12 are round, 12 mm, in the middle of the contour of the dots is a four-legged mythical beast. 13 Round, 10 mm. That is, neither the seals nor the signatures converge. So what kind of Basarab promised the Brashovians to deliver them from their troubles from the land of Wallachia. It turns out not only Dan III, but a certain Basarab, perhaps Layota himself was already aiming for the throne. Or it was Basarab II himself, because the exact date of his death is unknown (being a direct enemy of Dragul and his family, Basarab II , although a little-known person, seized the throne for himself and kicked out Vlad Dragul. Voivode Vlad Dragulya Tepes, despite such "merits" to his father did not chase after Basarab, he did not look for that, Basarab II lived calmly after 1458, which again does not fit into the character of voivode Dragulya Tepes imposed on many, as a" cruel tyrant ruler" who dealt with all enemies). It's too much like the signature "Bazarab waywoda Transsalpinensis amicus et minor vester in omnibus" and "Basarab senior wayvoda, dei gratia partium regni Transalpinarum dominus", "Bazarab senior Wayuoda, dei gratia partium regni Transalpinarum dominus", and on Tsepelusha "Bazarab iunior vaivoda partium regni Transalpinarum". Speaking about earlier studies, the same I. Bogdan hastily attributed the letter to the letters of Laiota Basarab, attributing to the letter his own assumed date of 1460. Thus, at that moment, both Dan III and a certain Basarab sought to seize power, which, with success, the Hungarian government used, pursuing its own selfish goals and further actively inciting conflicts in the land of Wallachia. * In the appendix there is an edition with an article analyzing in detail the Latin letters of the Wallachian lords -REVISTA ISTORICĂ - DĂRI DE SAMĂ, DOCUMENTE ŞI NOTIŢE , Voi. XXIX, № 1- 6, lanuar—Iunie 1943, "ACCENTE PERSONALE ŞI INFLUENŢE LOCALE IN UNELE SCRISORI LATINEŞTI ALE DOMNILOR ROMÂNI". ______ RU: 1459 и Басараб? Близ Сигишоары, (1459) 21 января, претендент на трон Валахии, некий Басараб пытается изыскать способы расположить к себе брашовян и обещает судьям и совету Брашова помощи против угнетателей их города,а вместо надеется на поддержку в борьбе против своего противника. Учитывая поведение Брашова относительно Валахии, а также урок, преподнесенный им Владом воеводой Цепешем уже в 1457 году, письмо точно датируют 1459. Некоторые историки даже отмечают, что было точно установлено, что письмо было написано в 1459 , потому как именно в этом году праздник Святой Агнессы пришелся на воскресенье. Замечу, Басараба пригрела Трансильвания, он пишет уже близ Сигишоары и уже в 1459 зовет себя воеводой Валахии. Печать: 32 мм, красный воск, на обратной стороне, письмо завернуто. Salutationem debito cum honore, domini et amici nobis honorandi. Noveritis me in sanitate, quam sanitatem audivi et valeo audire semper et in omni tempore de vestris dominationibus et amicitiis. Nos percepimus et audivimus quid vestra dominatio et amicitia nobis intimastis per Cresta iudicem et per alios vestros consocios et intimationes libenter recepimus et salutavimus et nos libenter venissemus inter vestras amicitias, sed bene scimus quod estis pradati et percruciati et ergo non venimus. Ideo petimus vestras dilectiones, quod si abueritis talem timorem de Transalpinarum vel de alia parte, unde esset vobis grave debetis, in brevi 1) intimare nos volumus adiutorem in persona domini regis vel quinque centum vel sex vel autem plures homines dare, quantos videtis quod possitis tenere. Si autem timorem proprium magnum abueritis vos debetis intimare. Nos in persona nostra erimus ibi inter vestras dilectiones et nobis apparet, quod post deum

omnipotentem vel morio autem vestros malefactores et interdictos vestros recipere de vos. Manete cum deo omnipotenti et rogati deum quia dabit vos vultis. Datum in una villa 2) penes Segeswar feria 3) in festo sanctae Agnetis. Et 4) quid vobis dicet Zlaw de Fogaras ex parte nostra fidem et fabulam eius credere debeatis tamquam a nostro proprio ore etcetera. Bazarab waywoda Transsalpinensis amicus et minor vester in omnibus. На обратной стороне: Circumspectis viris iudici, iuratis ceterisque civibus de Brasso dominis et amicis nostris plurimum honorandis. 1) brev. 2) vita. 3) vna вычеркнуто. 4) от сюда до et cetera вынесено. Интересно здесь то, что автор подписывается Басараб воевода Валахии, не Ио Дан воевода, как Дан подписывался в письмах от 4 марта 1459, от 2 апреля 1459 года и других (меньше 2 месяца разницы), но именно Басараб и только. Дан никогда так себя не называл в своих письмах и даже имя Басараб не использовал,никогда не подписывался «Bazarab waywoda Transsalpinensis amicus et minor vester in omnibus», но «Іω Дана Воεвода Милостιя Вожιя Господинь (и это даже в латинском своем письме из Мариенбурга 1459, 2 апреля). На печати Дана изображена коронованная фигура повернутая вправо со скипетром и яблоко, рядом изображена птица, повернутая влево с крестом в клюве. Печать Дана была такова: + Печать Іω Дана Воивода Гнь. Обычно она была 20, 26, 2 х 27 мм. Эта же печать 32 мм. В письме от 1 марта 1460 года печать Дана вообще выдающаяся- На красно- черном шелковом шнурке находилось аж 15 печатей (ряд из которых печати бояр) , из которых 13 следующие: 1. Круглая, 10 мм. В центре круга крест, справа полумесяц, слева звезда, снизу геометрическая фигура. 2. Другая печать восьмиугольная, 10 мм, с примитивным изображением животного 3. 13 мм, на печати изображен гербовый щит, с лошадью на дыбы , по краям печати надпись. 4. 13 мм, повреждена. 5. 19 мм, зеленый воск. На печати изображена гербовый щит с изображением животного , повернутого направо, на дыбах. Нашлемник . По краям печати надпись латинскими буквами. 6. 24 мм, красный воск, на печати с лева направо перевернутая фигура со скипетром, посреди дерево, справа ворон с крестом в клюве. Надпись по краям печати. 7. 12 мм. На печати щит с нашлемником. 8. 12 мм. 9. Круглая, 14 мм. Полумесяц и голова быка , слева солнце, справа луна. 10. Круглая, 10 мм. 11 и 12 круглые, 12 мм, посреди контура из точек изображен четвероногий мифический зверь. 13 Круглая, 10 мм. То есть, ни печати, ни подписи не сходятся. Так какой же Басараб обещал брашовянам избавить их от их бед с земли валашской. Выходит не только Дан III, но некий Басараб, возможно сам Лайота уже метил на трон. Или же то был сам Басараб II, ведь точной даты его смерти неизвестно (будучи прямым врагом Драгула и его семьи, Басараб II , хотя и личность малоизвестная, захватывал трон себе и был выгнан с него Драгулом. Воевода же Влад Драгуля Цепеш, несмотря на такие "заслуги" перед свои отцом Басараба II за Басарабом не гонялся, того и не искал, жил преспокойно Басараб II и после 1458, что снова не укладывается в навязанный многим характер воеводы Драгули Цепеша, как" жестокого тирана правителя", расправлявшегося со всеми врагами). Уж больно походит подпись «Bazarab waywoda Transsalpinensis amicus et minor vester in omnibus» и на- "Basarab senior wayvoda, dei gratia partium regni Transalpinarum dominus", "Bazarab senior Wayuoda, dei gratia partium regni Transalpinarum dominus", да и на Цепелюша "Bazarab iunior vaivoda partium regni Transalpinarum". Говоря о более ранних исследованиях, тот же И. Богдан спешно отнес письмо к письмам Лайоты Басараба, приписав к письму свою собственную предположительную дату 1460 год. Таким образом, в тот момент и Дан III, и некий Басараб стремились захватить власть, чем, с успехом, и пользовалось венгерское правительство, преследуя свои корыстны цели и далее активно разжигая конфликты в земле валашской. *В приложении издание со статьей, разбирающей подробно латинские письма валашских господарей -REVISTA ISTORICĂ - DĂRI DE SAMĂ, DOCUMENTE ŞI NOTIŢE , Voi. XXIX, № 1- 6, lanuar—Iunie 1943,

"ACCENTE PERSONALE ŞI INFLUENŢE LOCALE IN UNELE SCRISORI LATINEŞTI ALE DOMNILOR ROMÂNI".

[joezworld]

Flesh is Temporary, Steel is Eternal. (2/5)

Sister

1967

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be?” Skarloey asked Nancy one afternoon in early summer.

“Nope!” She said, and draped herself over his saddle tank to continue reading her novel.

“Really?”

“Uh huh! All my friends are away, and mum and dad both work here, so I might as well stay here with you!”

Skarloey rolled his eyes. Nancy was too old for this to be called ‘babysitting’, but even when she wasn’t, the time for objections had long passed. She had been draping herself over himself and Rheneas for so long that The Thin Clergyman had written about it! At this point he was more used to her being around than not, and his grouchiness was growing more and more amiable with each passing month.

“What are you reading?”

“A pulp novel about a boy who is cursed by a witch to turn into a locomotive under the light of the full moon.” Nancy sounded especially sarcastic as she read the plot to him.

Skarloey stared up at her. “Really?”

“Yeah!” A hand dropped in front of his smokebox, showing the gaudy cover of the book; It did indeed feature a young man holding up his arm in horror as his hand turned into a locomotive wheel. CURSE OF THE WERE-ENGINE was printed in lurid red letters across the top of the cover.

“That is the worst book cover I have ever seen.” Skarloey said once he finished goggling at it.

“The book isn’t much better.” Nancy admitted as she retracted her arm.

“Then why are you reading it?”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t interesting. Besides, I want to see how the witch did it!”

“You want to see how to turn someone into an engine?”

“Yeah!”

“Why?”

“Becauuuseeee...” She said as she draped her entire head over the edge of Skarloey’s smokebox. “I’m curious!”

“About what?”

“About being an engine, silly!” She said as though it was totally reasonable. “I spend so much time with you and Rheneas and the others that I’m curious about what it’s like!”

“You could just ask me what it’s like.” Skarloey said, more than a little shocked at this

“Yeah, but you don’t know what it’s like to be a person, so it’d be like comparing apples to oranges - this book shows both sides.”

“What does it say then?”

“Honestly not much. The bloke is too busy being scared to actually notice anything. Typical boy.” She muttered.

“Nance” Rheneas asked groggily as he woke up from his nap. “Why do you want to be an engine?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“I imagine a lot of people.”

“Like who?”

“You parents for one, your friends for another.”

“Eh. I’d rather be what I want to be than what they want me to be. ‘Sides, if I had to be like someone, I’d rather be like you two.”

Skarloey and Rheneas looked at each other. “Why?” Skarloey asked slowly.

“’Cause you’re brothers.” Nancy said simply. She’d clearly been thinking about this for a while, and kept talking like it had been on her mind. “And you’ve got Peter Sam and Duncan and Sir Handel and everyone else. I’ve just got me.”

Skarloey and Rheneas looked at each other again. They had no idea what being an only child was like, but evidently Nancy didn’t like being one.

“And if you turned into an engine,” Skarloey said with exceptional care. “What would that make you?”

“I dunno - your sister or something?” Nancy said blithely, unaware of the wide-eyed looks the two engines were having. “I feel like I already am sometimes, but it’s weird to say that when you two are older than my parents.”

“Well,” said Rheneas in a small voice before Skarloey could say anything. “If you ever manage that, I think you would be our sister then.”

“Okay!” Nancy said, blissfully ignorant of the emotional impact of her words in a way that only young people can be.

---

Two Years Later

It was a clear, cloudless night in July. The moon was supposed to be full and bright that night, and Skarloey and Rheneas had asked to be parked outside so that they could see it.

They were both half-asleep in the bright light of the very full moon when a dark-dressed figure came crunching up the gravel towards them.

Now fully awake, Skarloey called out to the figure. “Who goes there! Show yourself!”

“Keep your voice down!” Hissed the figured, who tore off their hat to reveal:

“Nancy!” Rheneas hissed. “What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night!”

“I need to show you guys something,” Nancy looked strangely determined. “And it can only be done under a full moon!"

“What?”

“Look!” Nancy took this as permission to keep going, and rummaged through her bag to produce a thick, leather-bound book. “I found this in a second-hand shop on the mainland.”

“What is it?” Rheneas asked, instantly more interested in the book than in Nancy’s late night escapade. Skarloey would have whooshed steam at Rheneas to keep him focused on Nancy being out so late, but his fire had been dropped so long ago that there was nothing left.

“It’s a big book of enchantments and cantrips! Magic!” She said with excitement.

“Oh Nancy,” Skarloey wasn’t sure whether to be indignant at her or disappointed on her behalf. “Magic isn’t real!”

“I thought you’d say that,” She said quickly. “So I brought proof!”

She reached back into her bag, and pulled out a battered old school book. In the light of the moon, Skarloey could see that the book’s hard cover had words and shapes carved into it.

As the two engines watched, Nancy brought the book up to their eye level and then let go.

Instead of falling to the ballast below, the book hovered in mid-air. Skarloey watched with amazement, all objections forgotten.

“Amazing...” Whispered Rheneas, instantly very interested. “Did you learn that from the book?”

“Yeah!” Nancy exclaimed as she flipped the spell book open to a different page. “I found that and a load of other spells, but I wanted to try this one with you two!”

Skarloey was hesitant. Rheneas was not. “We’ll do it!” He cried before his brother could say anything.

Nancy squealed joyfully and knelt down between the two engines, quickly marking on their cylinder blocks with a grease pencil that she’d produced from... somewhere.

“What are you doing?” Asked Skarloey as the grease markings suddenly began to itch.

“I’m making a rune.” Nancy said, quietly concentrating as she made sure that the marks were identical.

“A what?”

“A rune - it’s a magic thing from the book.”

Skarloey wanted to roll his eyes at Rheneas and Nancy’s misplaced enthusiasm, but he looked back at the school book, still hovering over the tracks, and realized that he might be the wrong one in this situation.

Rheneas gasping broke him from his ruminations. “What are you doing?!”

What Nancy was doing was slicing both her palms open with a folding knife. “It needs blood to work!” She winced, before slapping both hands onto the runes.

Skarloey expected a wet slapping noise, and was vaguely horrified when a sharp sizzle emanated from beneath her hands instead. It sounded like Nancy was being horribly burned - even though neither of them were in steam, but she didn’t wince or cry out; if anything, it looked like whatever just happened had healed her hands, since her pained look lessened significantly.

Much to both engine’s concern, she then started reciting something in what Skarloey was certain was Latin:

“Duae familiae fiet unum,

Tenetur per metallum et sanguinem,

Fratrem in hac parte,

In lumine lunae,

Hoc autem creatus est vinculum solum potest conteram Deorum”

Her recitation was slow and methodical, and her face was deeply calm as she said it, ignoring the blood that was dripping down from both of her palms.

Rheneas looked to be somewhere on the ‘fascinated’ side of ‘horrified fascination’, while Skarloey was firmly on the other side - to the point where he couldn’t even muster up the words to tell Nancy what he thought of this macabre ritual, he was so horrified.

As she finished the string of ominous-sounding Latin, a bright light surged out from beneath Nancy’s fingers, tracing along the grease pen runes before running its way up her arms and Skarloey and Rheneas’ connecting rods. The light built to a hugely bright flash that looked like a silent lightning bolt.

When Skarloey blinked the spots out of his eyes, it was over. Nancy was lying flat on her back in the gravel a few feet away from where she started, the grease paint was gone from both engines, and when she stood up and brushed herself off, Skarloey could see no trace of the cuts to Nancy’s palms.

If one ignored the floating book, it was almost like nothing had happened.

Skarloey was still speechless from shock and horror at the whole affair, but Rheneas was somehow much calmer. “Now that the light show is over, are you going to tell us what that did?”

“Oh!” Skarloey didn’t need to see Nancy’s cheeks to know that she was blushing - the silly girl had totally forgotten to say what this spell did. “It’s suppose-”

“Hey you! What are you doing here?” The night watchman from the big railway’s works had been alerted by the bright flash of light, and was making his way across the yard, his flashlight bobbing up and down as he crossed the standard gauge rails.

“I’ll tell you later!” Nancy whispered as she stuffed the floating book into her bag and took off running up the narrow gauge line. Within a few moments, her dark clothing was swallowed up by the night, and she vanished.

The two little old engines waited until the watchman had run back to his office in the works to phone the police before speaking.

“Our sister is crazy.” Rheneas said finally.

“That’s not the word I’d use.” Skarloey muttered. “Foolish, irresponsible, worrying even, but-”

He stopped midsentence as something occurred to him.

“Rheneas, since when is Nancy our sister?”

“Since always?”

“Since always?! She wasn’t ten minutes ago!”

Both engines blinked for a moment.

“I guess we found out what that spell was supposed to do then.” Rheneas said quietly.

-

The next afternoon, Skarloey rolled into the yard after taking a train of slate trucks down from the mines. Nancy, who had been slumped bonelessly over an old chair in the shed with a magazine, hopped up and clambered up on top of his boiler without so much as a hello.

“That was an incredibly stupid thing to do last night.” Skarloey chided gently.

“I know,” Nancy said as she laid down between his funnel and dome and started reading. “Was worth it though.”

“Isn’t it hot up there? I’m still in steam.”

“Nope.”

“At some point you must really show me exactly what that book said.”

“Can you read Latin?’

“No.”

“Then I don’t think it will help if you read it.”

----

Two weeks later

It was another wonderful clear night, and Nancy was half asleep on Rheneas’ cab roof while he and Skarloey bickered over something incredibly minor as their fires died down. As much as Skarloey would complain about her sitting around idly, she did actually do odd jobs for the railroad, and had volunteered to drop the two engines’ fires once they got low enough. The problem was that this minor argument was keeping both of them thoroughly ‘fired up’ as it were, and she’d likely have to wait until the coal burned out entirely before she could clear out their ash pans.

Eventually, the argument got Rheneas in such a tizzy that he belched a gout of thick, sooty smoke out of his funnel, covering all three in a choking cloud of ash and coal dust.

When the smoke cleared, Skarloey was still blinking soot from his eyes while Rheneas spat chunks of clinker out of his mouth.

Nancy, meanwhile, had been directly in the cloud's path and was black from head to toe. She was not pleased about it.

Not that Skarloey and Rheneas cared, and the argument was quickly forgotten as they laughed themselves silly at their sibling’s predicament.

“It’s not funny you two! I just bought this jumper!” Nancy protested as Skarloey and Rheneas howled with laughter. “Aren’t you both - achoo!”

She cut herself off as she began sneezing massively from the ash in her nose. In fact, there was so much ash in her nose that it started coming out in little black puffs, which only fueled her brothers’ heaving laughter.

Skarloey could barely see, he was laughing so hard, and was therefore surprised to hear Rheneas’ voice go from mocking to concerned in the span of two seconds

“What’s wrong...” He trailed off as he opened his eyes.

What was wrong was plainly obvious - Nancy was still sneezing, but was now doing so from within an impossibly large cloud of black smoke. There was no way that it had all come from her, as the cloud was bigger than Nancy was, and was still growing with each sneeze.

By the time the cloud had grown to the size of Skarloey, neither brother was laughing any more, and were beside themselves with concern.

“Are you all right?” Rheneas called into the cloud.

“Ye- achoo! Yes! I think!” Nancy called back. “But something feels weird! Achoo!”

After a few more tense minutes, Nancy stopped sneezing and the smoke began to clear up.

Skarloey blinked once, then once more, then a third time. Next to him he could hear Rheneas quietly swearing.

“What?” Came Nancy’s voice. “What happened?”

Skarloey tried to speak, but his mouth just flapped open like a dying fish.

“What?” Nancy’s voice sounded increasingly concerned, which was impressive considering that she wasn’t even in sight anymore.

Well, she couldn’t be in sight anymore - there was an engine parked directly in front of where she had been standing, which meant that she had to be behind it.

It was a very familiar looking engine too - like if someone had taken off Skarloey’s two rear wheels and put them onto Rheneas’ frame.

“Will either of you say something!” Nancy’s voice demanded. It’s funny - if Skarloey didn’t know any better, he’d say that the engine was speaking with Nancy’s voice.

“Nancy?” Rheneas said in a small voice. “is that you?”

“Is what me?” The engine asked, its eyes darting around.

"You-you-you..." Rheneas spluttered incoherently.

“WHAT IS IT?!” The locomotive asked. A small corner of Skarloey’s mind was astounded that they hadn’t woken the other engines.

After another frantic moment, the locomotive looked down at its bufferbeam. Whatever it saw deeply surprised it, because its eyes snapped back up to look at Skarloey and Rheneas before looking back down at itself.

“Am... am I...?” It asked slowly. Skarloey felt like he was having an out of body experience - the pieces were there, but he wasn’t quite putting everything together.

“Yes!” Rheneas was quicker on the uptake. “Yes you are!”

The engine looked like it wanted to say something else, but it suddenly morphed and changed in a dark flash of movement. When it settled back down, Nancy was once again standing in the middle of the tracks.

“What?” She asked, in no small amount of shock as she patted herself down.

Seeing the engine turn back into Nancy suddenly made everything come together for Skarloey, and he tried to speak, or scream, or say something! Instead, all the words tried to come out at once and he just babbled incoherently.

Rheneas wasn’t in a much better state, and was saying something that he might have thought were words, but were actually just syllables.

Meanwhile, Nancy had suddenly stopped patting herself down, sprinted for her bag, which was hanging on a coat hook near the shed door, and flipped it over while she scrabbled for something in it. Eventually finding what she was looking for, she sprinted back in front of Skarloey and Rheneas, revealing that she was holding the same book of magic spells from two weeks ago.

Her brothers were not in any state to speak, let alone question her, and so she was able to quickly flip to the page she was looking for.

“That was not listed as a result!” She said after a minute, before carefully setting the book down on the ground and taking a few steps back. "But maybe... I switched some words around because you're made of metal. Let me try this again..."

Skarloey and Rheneas lost what little of their composure they had regained when Nancy’s form blurred once again, and the engine appeared in her place.

The engine - Nancy?! - blinked once, then blurred back to a human form. This continued back and forth several times, before Nancy, once again a person, staggered back on her heels, a look of joy on her face.

Wordlessly, she approached Skarloey and wrapped her arms around his smokebox.

“Now I really am your sister!” She said, tears beginning to stream down her face.

-

As the years went on, Nancy’s ability became normal to Skarloey and Rheneas. They had to keep it away from the other engines, because they were certain that some engines (Sir Handel, Duncan) would be unable to keep it secret, but it was not a secret that they considered Nancy to be their sister - even if nobody understood how or why!

If they had wanted to keep it a secret, then that option went out the window when Nancy’s daughters greeted the old engines as “unca Ska’oey!” and “unca ‘Neas!”

Similarly, Nancy could never pull any trains, because someone might notice, and ask where the new engine came from, but the trio were content to spend time with each other late at night when nobody was watching.

In the early 1990′s, Nancy and her husband moved to the Isle of Man for work. While they visited often, neither of them liked being so far away from their family, who all worked or went to school on Sodor, and they came back in 2002. Skarloey and Rheneas were thrilled to see her, which cemented her resolve to never leave Sodor again.

In 2013, Nancy’s oldest daughter entered the “family business”, and joined the board of directors for the Skarloey Railway. She proved to be a capable administrator, and was promoted to head of operations in after only a decade.

Even as she grew older, Nancy continued to hang around the sheds, never quite able to stay away...

-

2045

One bright summer morning, Nancy hobbled her way into the yards. Skarloey and Rheneas watched with no small amount of discomfort - age had not been kind to their sister, and she no longer moved with the grace of a young person. Coming to a stop on the tracks in front of Rheneas, she closed her eyes and morphed back into an engine.

Unlike her human form, she was just as young-looking an engine in 2045 as she was in 1969.

“That’s better.” She sighed quietly as she rested on her wheels.

“Nance?” Rheneas said quietly. “You do know that people can see you?”

“I don’t care.” She said as a wisp of steam curled out of her funnel, causing Skarloey to raise an eyebrow.

“Do you want to explain something?” He asked.

“I am old and I am creaky and I am tired of it.” She said, looking at Skarloey pointedly.

Skarloey’s other eyebrow rose, and Rheneas’ jaw dropped. “You don’t mean...”

“I do.”

The engines sat in silence for a moment - Nancy enjoying the Summer sun, while Skarloey and Rheneas digested her words.

After a while, a voice could be heard coming closer to them. Nancy’s daughter Elaine made her way across the tracks, deep in conversation on her earphone.

Although they could only hear one side of the conversation, Skarloey and Rheneas could pick up enough context clues to know that she was talking to the board about when it would become necessary to find another engine.

The two old engines eyed their younger sister - they had a feeling that this wasn’t a coincidence.

“-yes, I know that we only got Wolfgang five years ago, but traffic has increased ten percent since then! We can barely keep up with the Amazon traffic as it is. Thank god that we have Rusty back at full power after his rebuild-”

She stopped mid-stride as she looked over at the trio of engines. “Let me call you back.”

She stood there for a moment, glaring at her mother. Skarloey did not need to look at Nancy to know that she was making a face right back - the shite-eating grim was so prominent he could almost feel it.

Elaine gave up first, burying her head in her hands. “Mum, mum. We talked about this.”

“You talked about this. I ignored you.” Nancy smirked. Rheneas couldn’t hold back a gasp of laughter at his sister’s unadulterated snark.

“How am I supposed to explain this?” Elaine said, not even lifting her head out of her hands.

“I don’t care. I’m not going back.”

“What about dad? Isn’t he going to be waiting for you?” Elaine was trying to be upset and it wasn’t quite sticking.

“Your father will be waiting for me in heaven whether it’s for ten years or ten thousand. I’m staying here with my family.” Nancy wasn’t budging from her position.

Elaine drew her head out of her hands to glare at her mother again. Eventually, she admitted defeat, and threw her hands into the air. “Fine! Fine! You win! I give up!” She shouted as she stalked away towards the railroad’s offices.

She tapped her ear twice to engage another call, and Skarloey could hear her start talking to someone- presumably her sister. “Hey - she actually did it. No I’m not joking. Yeah, I’m gonna have to explain this to the board somehow. I don’t know how. Do you have the book still? Why? Because if she can do it then so can I when the time is-”

The door to the office closed behind her, silencing the conversation.

The trio of engines looked at each other meaningfully. No words were said until Duke puffed into the yards. He eyed Nancy with suspicion.

“There were two of you earlier.” The striking similarity between the three was not lost on him.

Skarloey was wondering how he was going to explain this to the normally-superstitious old engine when Nancy spoke up.

“For shame, Duke!” I go to the works for a month and you forget all about me?”

“I’m sure I don’t know you.” Duke was unconvinced.

For once, Skarloey was the first off the draw. “Really, you forgetful old engine? You know my sister for almost a hundred years and you forget her after a month?”

“How can you forget Nancy? She’s been here longer than you have!” Rheneas chipped in, once it was clear they were just going to gaslight their colleague.

Duke stared at them, unamused. “I only know one Nancy, and she most assuredly does not...”

The surety faded from his eyes as Kitten, woken from a nap by the argument, sauntered across the rails, hopped up onto Nancy’s bufferbeam, and fell asleep once more.

“...” Duke blinked several times as he tried to reconcile his memories of Nancy not being there with the engine sitting in front of him.

“I apologize. The years must be finally getting to me.” He said quietly, and steamed into the sheds, the automatic door sliding shut behind him.

It took all of Skarloey, Rheneas, and Nancy’s strength not to dissolve into laughter then and there.

[swissmissficrecs]

Johnlock Marriage Recs

A couple of years ago, I posted a list of angsty Johnlock marriage fics. Then last year a list of wedding-themed fics (although it’s not necessarily John and Sherlock who get married.)

So to round things off, I thought it was time for an update of fics in which John and Sherlock get married (although it may not be the main point of the fic).

A Desperate Indulgence by LollipopCop (34K, M, Johnlock) John thinks it's 2012 after waking up with amnesia, having no memory of  Mary. Sherlock, exhausted from years of tension and hiding his love,  pretends they got married instead.

A Study in Sentiment by ManicMoose (11K, E, Johnlock) The Honorable Captain John Watson has been invalided home, only to find  that his elder sister Harriet, the Viscount Sondes, has gambled away  everything of value, including his own modest inheritance. With no other  recourse, he reluctantly enters the marriage market, in the hopes of a  securing a convenient spouse willing to trade their fortune for his  family name.

Castle and Sand by grey853 (158K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock and John both have difficult pasts that affect their evolving  relationship. When John prevents a mugging, it sets off a dangerous  chain of events that not only impacts him, but his whole family. In the  end there's a wedding and a honeymoon, but will there really be a happy  ending?

For Love by toyhto (13K, M, Johnlock) Sherlock asks John to marry him. It's for a case. Probably.

Fornicatio Autem by azriona (50K, E, Johnlock) England, the 13th century.  John Watson and Sherlock Holmes have been betrothed since they were children, despite not knowing each other at all.  But Earl Moriarty has long desired Sherlock Holmes – and only one man can stand in the Earl’s way.  The question is – will he?

I'll Follow You Into the Dark by fearfully_beautifully_made (19K, E, Johnlock) A story about two men who have had a very tough couple of years and are  long overdue for a little tenderness and healing. Or four times that one  of the boys wake each other up from a Nightmare and one time when it is  not a Nightmare. ;)

In Bed by Ellipsical (46K, E, Johnlock)  How do the sons of silent, bitter houses love? Like this.      

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (91K, E, Johnlock) “I love you.”  Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily.  “Do you even know what that means?”

Mary by kinklock (136K, E, Johnlock) Monte Carlo, 1937. While working as the companion to Sebastian  Wilkes, a young man becomes acquainted with a wealthy Englishman, John  Watson. Rumour has it that Watson, owner of the grand country estate  Manderley, is still haunted by the sudden death of his late wife. But as  the young man soon learns, not all is as it seems.

Radioactive Trees in a Red Forest by Maribor_Petrichor (280K, E, Johnlock) John Watson is what happens when a man can no longer see a reason to go on. John Watson is what happens when a man starts to let go. "It is what it is." John Watson is what happens when what "it is" becomes too much to bear. This is a story of the life, death, and resurrection of John Hamish Watson.

Reconcile by illwick (36K, E, Johnlock) John views his past through a new lens when he finds his relationship with Sherlock on thin ice.

Seven Moons by ladyflowdi (66K, E, Johnlock) “This is happiness?” John asks, utterly heartsick, holding up his wrists and rattling the chains. “You’ve sold me for six gold mines and protection along the northern border.”

Siege by PlainJane (55K, E, Johnlock) In 1415, English archer John of Kenilworth is sent by Lord Mycroft Holmes from the field of victory at Agincourt to protect a remote French castle. Cherinfourde is under some dark cloud and John means to get to the bottom of it, in his lord's name. If only he could stop thinking about the most unusual omega he has ever met.

Spare Change by Ermerness (51K, E, Johnlock) The Holmes family is one of the richest and most powerful in England.  Sherlock spends his time flying around the world on the family's private  jet drinking a lot and shopping at expensive boutiques as a way of  trying to alleviate his endless boredom. His mother decides it's time he  settles down with someone powerful, wealthy and well connected. John  Watson happens to be none of those things.

Teach Your Children Well by Silvergirl (12K, E, Johnlock) John decides to send Rosie to the local school a year early. Sherlock  assumes he doesn’t want her becoming solitary, hyper-intellectual,  hyper-focused—in other words, like Sherlock. It doesn’t help that  Rosie’s prospective teacher is a dead ringer for Nicole Kidman, and is  making overtures to John by text. But both fathers are wide of the mark:  well, there’s always something, right?

The Alchemy of Sea Glass by reveling_in_mayhem (22K, E, Johnlock) Salt and air and sand surrounded their little party of three. Crashing  waves, gull cries, and the exhilarated exclamations of an excited  three-year-old served as the soundtrack to a day filled with blue skies  and bright sunshine.

The Alphabet Vignettes by suitesamba (49K, M, Johnlock) Twenty-six vignettes featuring Sherlock and John's life after S4.  These begin just after E3 and continue into retirement in Sussex, but are presented in a non-linear fashion.

The Happily Ever After Hypothesis by Berty (12K, E, Johnlock) John and Sherlock are attending a mysterious party Chez Holmes. But when  Sherlock reveals that he has brought something for John to dress up in  this time, it's not what John was expecting.

The Pieces That Fall to Earth by Itsallfine (49K, M, Johnlock) John and Sherlock have hit rock bottom, but with all their armor stripped away, they can finally speak honestly, seek healing, and find the truths that matter most.

The Thing is by TSylvestris (56K, E, Johnlock) The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything.  Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair.  Whilst you're in bed.

[lawrenceop]

HOMILY for 9th after Pentecost (Dominican rite)

1 Cor 10:6-13; Luke 19:41-47

In his second letter to the bishop Timothy, the apostle St Paul says: “if we are faithless, [God] remains faithful – for he cannot deny himself.” (2 Tim 2:13) For our fidelity changes and vacillates, like the waxing and waning of the moon, because we human beings are corruptible, contingent, changeable creatures. God, however, who simply is, does not suffer change nor alteration in his perfection. Thus he remains faithful, ever true to his holy will which is eternally fixed on the good.

And as our God, and our loving Father, so he wills our good, our final good, which is our salvation. Hence, even when we are faithless: when we fail in our observance of God’s commandments especially the principal commandment to love; when we fall away from God through sin or indulge in immorality, backbiting, gossip; when we place creaturely persons and things and ideas in place of God; when, being fearful for our future, we place our hope in temporal things and so become “idolators” – even so, God is always faithful. Hence St Paul declares in today’s epistle: Fidelis Deus autem est, God is faithful. (1 Cor 10:13)

God is faithful and true in his desire for our good, our full and truly human flourishing, our salvation, and so he is ever at work by his grace to bring about greater virtue and deeper charity in us. For we are bound more closely to him through an increase in charity, in supernatural love, by which we are motivated to love the things that God loves, and in the sacrificial and patient manner that God loves, as demonstrated by Christ and the Saints. Therefore, the work of sanctifying grace in the soul is to render more true, more good, more faithful all our vacillating and changeable and corruptible ways. For thus we become conformed to Christ, we are changed by grace to become faithful even as God is faithful, to become like Jesus, whom the book of Apocalypse calls “the faithful witness.” (Apoc 1:5) This, it seems to me, is what our sanctification, or deification as the Fathers call it, means: it means that we become one in our will and intention with God’s, so that, like our loving Father, we will and desire that which is good, true, and perfect; we will to love as he loves. Hence the apostle says in today’s epistle:“Do not desire evil”.

St Paul then gives us this assurance: that because God is faithful and wills our good, so God also comes to our aid so that we can “escape”, so that we can flee from sin and from those ways that lead to a dead end, so that we can remain faithful as he is faithful. The problem in times of temptation, assuming that we even recognise the peril we’re in, is that we often rely on our own human ability, our own efforts, our own devices. Amazingly, when tempted, we often forget to pray, or worse still perhaps we feel unworthy to pray! Now, Scripture promises us that we will not be tempted beyond our strength, but this promise has to be read together with the first part of that sentence, which is that God is faithful. As such, we are reminded first of all that God alone is true and constant and unchanging in his goodness, whereas, by contrast, we are prone to change and decay. Hence we must rely on God’s fidelity, God’s constancy, God’s strength, and indeed, God’s grace. So, if we wish to overcome temptation, and to remain faithful, we need at all times – but especially in times of trial when our wills are inclined towards the nothingness of sin – to pray.

For the movement of the soul in prayer is a vital and necessary movement towards God, who is the Faithful One, who has promised to rescue us and to give us “escape” from our temptations by making right the wrongness of our wills. The turn to God in prayer is, as St John Damascene says, “the requesting of good things from God”, and so the will is turned away from evil towards the good. Therefore, the more we pray, the more earnestly we pray, so the greater our desire for the good, the more the will is inclined away from evil. Hence the Lord said: “Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation.” (Mk 14:38) So, in the hour of temptation, we must be watchful that we run to God, that we fly towards him in prayer, that we escape into his loving embrace.

The Officium, the Entrance antiphon, of today’s Mass therefore declares: “Save me, O God, by Thy Name, and deliver me in Thy strength.” For God will not allow us to be tempted beyond our strength so long as we recall that he, and he alone, is our strength and deliverer. So David cries out in psalm 18: “I love thee, O Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.” (Ps 18:1-2) The one who knows that God is his strength, and who finds refuge and salvation in him will thus also love him, as the psalmist suggests. For prayer is, as St Thomas Aquinas says, an act of charity, and its effect is to conform us to God’s will. Now, God’s will, as we have said, is ever faithful, and so he wills our good, our holiness, our salvation. So, if we are assailed by temptation, which would tear us away from the good, all the more must we pray so that our wills can be turned by this beautiful act of charity towards God and the ultimate good that he desires for us. Hence our infidelity, our weak and vacillating will, our bent desires are made faithful, strong, and true by genuine prayer. The Collect of today’s Mass, therefore, asks God to make our prayer genuine by making us ask only for those things that please him.

This, it seems to me, is the crux of the matter. For often we can be tempted to conflate our own desires and goals and ambitions with God’s. But, often, this is just wishful thinking. Prayer, remember, is the conforming of our will to God’s and not that God should be conformed to our will and desiring. And if it should appear as if God is not listening, not doing as we tell him to in our prayers, perhaps we should first ask: Am I listening? In the current circumstances, am I faithful (in the sense of having faith with which) to discern the wisdom of God, the goodness of God, the providence of God leading and guiding us towards greater virtue and charity. For God’s grace, as we have said, is always at work to will and desire our true good, which is our sanctification. For it is thus that Scripture can declare, Fidelis Deus est.

The Gospel today, therefore, reveals the desire of Christ for the soul. He, the faithful witness, wishes that each of us “shall be a house of prayer” and thus remain faithful. For without prayer, there is infidelity, sin, and the ruination of one’s life. Just as the Temple would be destroyed and all of the Holy City of Jerusalem with it, so Pope St Gregory the Great says: “Do we not perceive in these ruins an image of the spiritual destruction of our own moral conduct, destruction which we have every reason to be afraid of?” Hence today’s readings warn us of the consequence of our infidelities if we allow them to go unchecked; if we do not repent and acknowledge our sinful inconstancy; if we do not turn to God and cry out to him in prayer: “Deliver me from mine enemies, O my God: and defend me from them that rise up against me”, as we hear in the Gradual today.

Each day, while we still draw breath, God who is ever faithful, visits us with grace that makes us, weak and faithless as we are, still more faithful, still more strong in Christ. So, let us not miss the time of his visitation, for the time of grace and sanctification is now. And so, now, and in every moment to come, whether in good times or bad, turn to God the Faithful One in prayer. For as St Therese of Lisieux says: “prayer is a surge of the heart; it is a simple look turned toward heaven, it is a cry of recognition and of love, embracing both trial and joy.” Like her, then, let us be faithful in prayer.

[multi-fandom-inserts]

The Library (Part One)

Nick Scratch x Reader!

ENJOY, no warnings except maybe a case of blue balls at the end?

Friday, 4.35pm

The grand library at the Academy of Unseen Arts was marvellous, grand marble flooring with rows upon rows of large wooden bookcases, stacked high with books ranging from spells to transfiguration to potions to even a small fiction section for entertainment, not to mention the Restricted Section which is kept under lock and key with more protective and life-threatening enchantments than Hell itself. Marble pillars line the room creating a pathway and above it all was a large black crystal chandelier, with metal stand throughout the room lined with candles giving the room a oddly warm and inviting glow.

For once the library was empty, no surprise really, Friday afternoons mark the beginning of the weekend for the academy, therefore the corridors that were once buzzing with life and laughter of students were now quieter than the grave, only a few late leavers lined the corridors, their suitcases, trunks and familiars blocking the way, their quiet laughter and talking echoed eerily throughout the hallways.

You on the other-hand were not packing to leave for the weekend, the academy had become your permanent home, so every Friday it has become routine to hide away from it all in the library, curled up on one of the plush red velvet arm chairs placed in front of the grand fire, your shoeless feet tucked beneath you keeping them warm. Your hands held a old, tattered transfiguration book as your familiar, Echo – a jet black Ball Python – tucked and wrapped herself in your hair.

Taking a deep breath, you place the book down on the coffee table and focus all your attention on the empty wine glass placed in front of you. Resting your bare feet firmly on the floor as you lean forwards, hoovering your hands just above the object of your spell, “Per potentiam autem hora bus, exaudi me,” you whisper – by the power of the witching hour, hear me – a smirk grew on your lips as you felt the light of the moon engulf you through the Gothic window causing goosebumps to form on the surface of your skin.

Closing your eyes, you push and hold all your power in your hands, “lepus saliens vitrum in tenuem!” you command forcefully – delicate glass into leaping rabbit – for a few moments all was silent in the library and you didn't want to open your eyes in fear of the spell not working.

Your worst fears were realised when a chirp sounded throughout the library, opening your eyes to see a large raven perched on the table, it's large talons already making marks in the wood as it's beady yellow eyes starting at you as rub your temples, taking the book carefully from beside the creature successfully dodging the bird attempts to poke you with his beak.

“How do I turn you back into glass?” you ask yourself, violently flicking through the pages whilst attempting to keep half an eye on the raven. When suddenly the bird lets out a loud and threatening noise before flapping it's large wings and flying from the table, causing you to jump throwing the book to the floor as you stood up.

The free bird continued to mock you for several minutes as you tried to coach it down from it's hiding spots on the top of the bookshelves, every time you got close to  being within spell distance the bird swooped down to scratch you before finally seeking prime safety in the chandelier.

“Seriously?!” you groan in frustration, wiping the sweat that had gathered on your forehead on your sleeve, all the running around had made you warm and the heat from the fire wasn't helping, discarding your jumper on the armchair you moved back to the side of the chandelier.

“I can summon demons, make trips to hell and control mortals yet I cannot catch a fucking bird!?” you growl, clenching your fists causing the room too shake slightly in response to your anger.

Suddenly a low chuckle echoes from behind you, “And you can't even turn it into the right animal,” a male voice teases, turning round you see Nick Scratch slowly strutting his way further into the library, his signature smirk on his lips and an even more seductive look in his eyes, “The Dark Lord will be disappointed in you, Y/N.” he said, getting closer and closer, very soon he was behind you, his cool warm breath fanning over your now exposed shoulder.

“Fuck off Nick.” you spat, twirling around to face him, your noses almost touching.

Nick just laughed, “That's not what you were saying the last time, if I remember right it was, 'Fuck me, Nick'.”

A deep blush rose to your cheeks as he teased you, a small spark of anger lit in your chest as you waved your hand away from you forwards him, sending the young Warlock flying backwards. His body hit the marble floor a few meters backwards.

“No Nicolas, I never got the chance remember,” you said, turning your back to him and setting your sights back on the escaped Raven, Father Blackwood would have your head if he knew you set an animal free in the Academy that wasn't a familiar, “You got a telepathic call from the Weird Sisters and decided I wasn't as much fun.”

Behind you, Nick rolled his eyes as he collected himself from the floor, a small hit of annoyance filled him due to the throwing backwards, suddenly your body was thrown forwards across the library, the front of your body collided with one of the bookshelves making you groan in pain.

“How jealous you are, pet.” Nick voice suddenly whispered in your ear, one of his large hands grips your waist as the other rests on the shelf by your head, his body is pushed against you keeping your trapped in the space. Goosebumps appear over your body as Nicks gentle breaths echo in your ear and engulf your skin.

A hiss breaks the silence as Echo emerged, not being best pleased Nick had launched you across the room with her still settled in your hair, Nick lets out a yell of surprise as Echo strikes at him, causing him to stumble backwards giving you the best opportunity to use your powers, forcing Nick to kneel in front of you.

“Oh Nicky, be careful.” you whisper with a smirk, leaning down to hover your lips over his, “She bites.”

Echo wrapped round your hand as she continues to hiss at Nick, clearly enjoying her theatrical role then escaped into the bookshelves as Nick snatched the back of your knees and pushed you backwards, being sure to protect the back of your head from the marble flooring, trapping you beneath him with your arms pinned to the cold marble floor with him happily sitting between your legs.

He smirks seductively with an evil look in his eyes as he watched you struggle for a moment before dipping his head into the crook of your neck, just below your ear.

“She's not the only one, sweetheart.” he whispers.

                                                     _______

Want Part 2? Let me know!

[smileheart110]

Autem, why did you make Ruru so freaking cute?! I just wanna gently squish his cheeks and give him a big hug because of how so flipping adorable he is!

Soo... are we gonna see more of Ruin Eclipse..? 👉👈

I wanna see more of our bookworm.

[godslittleshadow]

At the Grand Ball

On this, the most important of nights for the Sabbat, Bach finds his senses overwhelmed by the motion. Cowed ghouls trail behind their masters, the vessels groan and sway from the side-rooms, bodyguards lean with glassy malice over tittering socialites.

It is like the Curia in Rome, in ways that he has only begun to see. Volumes of red and black silk rustle when elders pass, jeweled crucifixes glinting in the ruddy torch-light. Walking sharks that will pray for you while they circle. 

They, his elders and superiors in the Order, have stuck him not behind the scenes with his precious work, but instructed that he ply and play the crowd. 

The young - hearing himself described thus does not sit well on his dusty, downturned features - Lasombra would rather leap into the roaring flames set for tonight's dance than further be simpered over by some Gangrel ancilla with no sense of personal space. Her stiff fingers pull at his silver hair, inspecting a ringlet between claw and thumb. 

"Aren't you that hunter" she asks, a rolled purr in her speech, "who got caught?" 

"I am 'that hunter' who was saved. What I was before is an afterthought to what I may become, be that the Dark Father's will." 

There is no derision in his voice, no curled lip or narrowed eye. His features are as placid and blank as the moon's gleam. Were he older, a few decades more seasoned in the ways of sect and Clan, this stoicism would be seen as unsubtle posturing. As a neonate, and one of a faction that is sneeringly dismissed to value humanity over the greater body of the Sabbat, it is a telling demonstration: look at how well this one has discarded the trappings of mortal life. 

It is an utter lie, but it serves Bach well. God knows he did his share of smile-and-nod meetings with doughy politicians, awful men with worse money and things worth knowing. Lasombra have shed their skin in the centuries since Gratiano supposedly drank the Shadowed One down in an adolescent burst of rebellion, but unlike the simpering Blue-Bloods they have wrenched their young back from the brink. Allow the youth their emotional flights, they will turn to righteousness in time. 

The Gangrel gives a satisfied nod and sneers through yellowed fangs, before loping off towards the plaza proper. 

The play will begin soon. 

Dark incense plumes the air, the hot coals sizzling within the thurible that draws the eye of every Cainite in the upper halls. Two ghouls chant prayers as they pass, Latin cants with an inordinate focus on blood and the impending flames.

 It does suit Catholic sensibilities, even if most Sabbat see the rites as nothing more than spiritual dressing over worldly actions. They must listen to sermons before they feed, and he can see tittering laughs and unfocused eyes more concerned with the vitae to follow than the words that uphold their soft little un-lives. 

A side-room provides a place to dress and prepare the vessels, and Bach uses this cupboard room to prepare one final time. Reputation was a means to an end in the Society; ignored as long as people let him do his damned job, and used with sparse distaste. Let other people worry about gilded ideals and far off times as it suits them. To make God's will a reality, suitable temporal power must be assured before the matters of the spirit, and this means listening with care to those stronger than you. 

This former jewel of the Gladius Dei preens and touches his face - the one time when he might want a mirror it is wanting - underlining his eyes in charcoal greasepaint with a swipe of a thumb. The costume is a simple one, black chasuble with silver trim, a silk vestment that sheens in the dim light. Scarred hands pull the cappa nigra around his shoulders, the hood making his craggy features smooth out in a veil of shadow. An old man with a face that tells a life of sun-worn work far more at home against an obscenely green Alpine backdrop, some storybook ideal of mountains and low rolling rivers and steins of beer, than a blasphemous cadre of the undead. 

That is to say: a good butcher shouldn't look like one.  

Bach goes swift through the back rooms, the sharp turns choked by limp and lone bodies. They are not for him. To feel the rattle of emptiness and continue regardless is the greatest virtue a beast can abide; tempted from warm pulses from gathered hearts. The lines he knows, the timing repeating through his head, best not to forget and choke. Here was power for the taking, without the thin glaze of human pleasantry over desire and want, with simple rules of survival. 

Others are speaking on stage, the Antediluvian apocrypha that is said to hold significance. It doesn't all make sense to him yet, the odd and often incomprehensible prophecies from those beyond human. 

They pontificate out around a high mass covered in red cloth, iron-scent unmistakable. One hundred vampire eyes are fixed to the stage, and it does cross his mind that once upon a time the scene before him would have appeared as Hell on earth. He takes a single step, pale fingers along the spotlight, grabs the edge of the fabric and pulls down.

We notice humanity in two singular ways: the eyes and the hands. His eyes are closed, black lashes drooping in the small mercy of unconsciousness. His palms face up, the twin bones of the wrists pinned aloft with nails. Alter Christi; spiny embryo with wire-curl hair and sun tanned skin, a grape for the press. 

Bach speaks with a lilt, smooth and low. There is no doubt that they are listening. 

"A sexta autem hora tenebrae factae sunt super universam terram." 

The Word trembles the air and the Abyss follows. It is a false memory of flame, a velvet-dark outline that fans along the boards and steals glances from the little kine below, a darkness that sears imprints into the back of your eyes. The crowd growls and rumbles, a few cheer. 

There is a touch of the Inquisitor in him still; in the way the shadow licks and tents around the base of the cross like a fresh pyre, in the wayward faith that makes the air feel leaden. It is a pale echo of what resided within when he still lived. Love and sacrifice hollowed out for a dull murmur of sacred blood and divine right. The Sabbat remember, they do not forget the zealot's ire that fueled Monçada. Bach's wide eyes are only for his vessel. 

 Rapt, he continues, "Caro enim mea vere est cibus et sanguis meus vere est potus. Qui manducat meam carnem et bibit meum sanguinem in me manet: et ego in illo."

White eye teeth gleam wet, the silent smoke-inferno rising towards nailed feet. A glitter of light in the void. Silence from the crowd. 

Bach bows, crosses himself once, and then rends his Christ's throat open with his mouth.

 It is a quick thing, a simple wrench of his jaw until his teeth clatter against thin strips of flesh. Efficient, and once finished he backs away to allow the elders to fill chalices and cups. The shadows roil, high ripples sparking with a frenzy of offered blood, and then simmer and fade into nothing. In the flurry of action it is easy to slip back behind the stage. 

The hunter merely wipes his mouth, tastes holy blood from his fingers, and smiles. Amen. 

[transparentgentlemenmarker]

“Reading Lamp” Limited Edition on Canvas (21”x28”) info@kushfineart.com. BOOK is a metaphor for the history of human life. We use the analogy of the book when talking about a significant event in our lives, "one more page is written." For instance, when we mention man’s first flight into the cosmos or to the moon, we say, "one more page is written into the Exploration of the Cosmos."Reading a book is often breathtaking and evokes imagination, and the butterfly bookmark in the painting is a symbol of the flight of imagination. Reading requires attention, solitude and silence, relayed by the light contrast, "light of the mind amidst the darkness." Writings on the background:• Vita brevis, ars vero longa, occasio autem praeceps, experientia fallax, judicium difficileLiteral translation: Life is short, science is vast, chance is shaky, experience is deceiving, judgement is difficult.Source: Hippocrates• Voluntas est superior intellectuLiteral translation: Will is superior to intellect• Vox audita perit littera scripta manetLiteral translation: Spoken word dissapears, written letter remains

[theraccolta]

Octavo Kalendas Ianuarii Luna vicesima nona Anno Domini 2019 Anno a creatióne mundi, quando in princípio Deus creávit cælum et terram, quinquiés millésimo centésimo nonagésimo nono; a dilúvio autem, anno bis millésimo nongentésimo quinquagésimo séptimo; a nativitáte Abrahæ, anno bis millésimo quintodécimo; a Móyse et egréssu pópuli Israel de Ægýpto, anno millésimo quingentésimo décimo; ab unctióne David in Regem, anno millésimo trigésimo secúndo; Hebdómada sexagésima quinta, iuxta Daniélis prophétiam; Olympíade centésima nonagésima quarta; ab urbe Roma cóndita, anno septingentésimo quinquagésimo secúndo; anno Impérii Octaviáni Augústi quadragésimo secúndo, toto Orbe in pace compósito, sexta mundi ætáte, Iesus Christus, ætérnus Deus æterníque Patris Fílius, mundum volens advéntu suo piíssimo consecráre, de Spíritu Sancto concéptus, novémque post conceptiónem decúrsis ménsibus (Hic vox elevatur, et omnes genua flectunt), in Béthlehem Iudæ náscitur ex María Vírgine factus Homo. (Hic autem in priori voce dicitur, et in tono passionis:) Natívitas Dómini nostri Iesu Christi secúndum carnem.

December 25th 2019, the 29th day of the Moon,

In the year 5199th from the creation of the world, when in the beginning God created the heavens and the earth, in the year 2957th from the flood, in the year 2015th from the birth of Abraham, in the year 1510th from the going forth of the people of Israel out of Egypt under Moses, in the year 1032th from the anointing of David as King, in the 65th week according to the prophecy of Daniel, in the 194th Olympiad, in the 752nd from the foundation of the city of Rome, in the 42nd year of the reign of the Emperor Octavian Augustus, in the 6th age of the world, while the whole earth was at peace, Jesus Christ, Himself Eternal God and Son of the Eternal Father, being pleased to hallow the world by His most gracious coming, having been conceived of the Holy Ghost, and when nine months were passed after His conception, (all kneel down) was born of the Virgin Mary at Bethlehem of Juda made Man, Our Lord Jesus Christ was born according to the flesh.

[plague-doctor-jules]

Can you just for a moment imagine Julian cosplaying as Tuxedo Mask from the Sailor Moon series, and being overly dramatic and tossing roses everywhere? Actually he'd probably be Tuxedo Plague Mask haha. And the various apprentices as the Sailor Scouts too, the Sailor Apprentices? I wonder who'd be Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, etc. (even though I don't remember the anime too well myself haha xD) ...

OMG Julian as the Tuxedo Plague Mask, that was SO accurate!!! As for the apprentices:

Sailor Moon is Nadir (the most adorable dork) @tenebras-autem-nadirSailor Mars is Julianne (smol and feisty) @icedcoffee-and-pumpkinbreadSailor Mercury is Omaira (huge science nerd, still adorable) @halfblooddragonghostSailor Jupiter is Summer (proteccs and bakes) @unicornfattySailor Venus is Elmana (flirty and adventurous) @mazelinka-daughterSailor Uranus is Arya (another feisty one but super cute) @tranquilaryaSailor Neptune is Callie (cutie, elegant and with a dark side) @biakelaSailor Pluto is Cyan (death obsessed, wears black) @vesuvias-undertaker

[cosmatter]

Future Moon Hunt

Consectetur dolorem eos ut maiores et. Et vel occaecati explicabo iusto. Dolores corrupti quas accusamus fugit. Est asperiores minima aut nam aliquam aut aliquam.Eius quia praesentium impedit illo. Ut at laboriosam quia tempora quia. Optio maxime praes Officia minus et. Porro ex numquam reiciendis et quia enim autem sequi. Accusantium rerum molestias velit sint ut fuga. Quaerat nam vel deleniti…