#Brothers of the Palazzo

[helianthus21]

it's so fucked that Armand had to watch his home get burned to cinder three times and then he got to save Daniel from a house fire:')

[the-sartorial-journey]

Blue Power

[empirearchives]

Jérôme all grown up during his Italy years

Portrait of Girolamo Bonaparte, by Pietro Benvenuti

The last of Napoleon’s brothers, born in [1784], Girolamo was a carefree and frivolous young man, often lacking prudence and moderation, who led a life of entertainment. In 1807 he married Catherine, daughter of King Frederick I of Württemberg, and was made king of Westphalia by his brother. After the fall of Napoleon, he left France to reside first in Vienna then in Trieste, Rome and Porto San Giorgio in the Marche. A widower since 1835, in 1840 he secretly married an Italian noblewoman, Giustina Pecori-Suárez (1811–1903), in Florence. Returning to Paris in 1848, he was appointed governor general of the Hôtel des Invalides, then Marshal of France in 1850, president of the Senate in 1851 and was reinstated with the title and honors of Imperial Prince in 1852. He died in 1860; his tomb is located in the cathedral of Saint Louis des Invalides next to Napoleon’s large sarcophagus.

(Source)

[m3vl0vesu]

╰☆☆ 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 ☆☆╮

A/N: I don't really have any tw but it's probably gonba be sad, so be warned. I'm writing this with no hours of sleep and the worst mood in a while :). Also a oneshot, I was asked to write something gut-wrenching but I don't know if it is. Batsis!reader is 15-17 Your thoughts

@moraxussy I don't think it's as gut-wrenching as you hoped, sorry!! I hope you like it though :)

One of a bats closest relative is a puma, ironically they have nothing in common. Bats come in big groups, there always surrounded by at least one other bat. Pumas are solitary animals, they don't share their territory. They're recluse, and more viscous than bats.

You were more vicious. You didn't control your anger and grief, it controlled you, but you had to find a way mange it. Tomorrow was a special occasion after all, well that's what everyone was saying but...it didn't feel like it. Tomorrow, Bruce was bringing Selina Kyle over. The famous kleptomaniac aristocrat, also known as Catwoman. The thief turned...bat? You weren't exactly sure but it'd be nice for her and Bruce to finally clear up what they were. It must've been serious if she was going to have dinner with the family. Then again, you never really saw your dad be in a committed relationship. ... 'Dad'...nope still didn't sound right. Even after all the years living together he didn't deserve that title, at least not from you. The daughter of Bruce Wayne? it sounded so foreign to you, people saying that-it sounded wrong. No, you were your mothers daughter. It didn't matter if you couldn't picture her face anymore...yeah.

.

.

. For this special occasion you needed something special to where! You chose a vest suit, an off-white shirt underneath the brown, tattersall patterned vest. Paired with some old, black palazzo pants. It was a similar outfit your other had worn a while back, you saw it an old magazine rotting in the corner of your room. It felt nice to be dressed up for once, it'd gave you a reason to finally take a shower. With everyone making a big deal out of this you had a little hope that they would acknowledge you today. Maybe Selina could change things around here.

But as people ran chaotically in the hallway and different aromas travelled into your room, you realised something. Jason wasn't here. What. No, no...you couldn't survive these without him. Your leg shook as you waited for the phone to pick up. He was the only one that properly acknowledged your existence without being cruel. He was your favourite brother, favourite sibling. I mean the bar was low but, favourite nonetheless!

"What's up Star?" His voice sounded hoars, had he just woken up? Your irritancy only growing when he used that nickname. It was usually nice when he called you it, but right now it was the last thing you needed. "Don't call me that Jay. Where are you?" ...

The silence was deafening, he cleared his throat and it made you want to cry. "I'm sorry...I'm not coming kid." No. That wasn't fair. "Tch-Then can you...pick me up?" Your voice desperate as you hated all of it. A room full of people that don't even know you, and a stranger. It was personal hell. "Look, Star, I really think you'd benefit from thi-" You ended the call, scoffing, you pushed yourself off your bed.

.

.

.

She's so pretty She sat on the right side of Bruce. Who was, per usual, at the head of the table. Soon the peaceful moment turned loud. The sounds of knives scraping against plates, Steph's nails tapping the table, Tim an Damian bickering back to hell. Huh, the chicken was just out of your reach, usually Alfred would put it closest to your seat. After a few embarrassing minutes of reaching for it, and no one helping you, your just grabbed whatever was closest. At one point you swore you locked eyes with Tim while you were still reaching for the chicken and he just flat out ignored you. Maybe it was time to speak "uhm...can you pass...can you" why was this always so hard? "Can I...Can you pass the chicken please?" Now you were sure people heard you. You watched as Grayson picked up the plate and gave it to...Selina. Of-fucking-course.

"What am I, chopped liver?"

Shit. Your shoulders tensed up and your hands balled into fists on your lap. You were in so much- "Ha." Huh? Did she...laugh? Whatever. "Sorry...can you pass the chicken please?" She nodded, was it getting hot in here? Or was it just everyone looking at you?

"You never told me she had a sense of humour." She said, her soft smile shining as she turned to Bruce, the her eyes squinted. "I don't think you told me much about her at all actually." That sounds about right. He probably doesn't even know much about you. Her elbow leaned on the table and her chin rested on her fist. "Your Mother...she was a model right?" With those words she instantly got your attention, with your eyes shining you nodded. "Yeah! She was"

With the nod of her head she leaned back in her chair. "That outfit...she wore something similar to it." Oh you definitely like her.

Before you could respond, someone had to open their mouth. "She wasn't a very famous one." Damian said, his annoying voice once again ruining your mood. "Damian." Bruce muttered. You scoffed, usually these comments would be ignored. "privileged asshole." You poked at your plate, not really hungry anymore. In fact it felt like you might throw up, or break something. "What did you call me?" He said sitting up in his chair. "I called you a privileged asshole." You banged your fork onto the table, no everyone's attention was on you. From the corner of your eye you could see Tim's scowl, it was surprising him and Bruce weren't related. You couldn't take it when he slandered your mother, but for some reason you were the villian. "Star. Don't be like that." Dick nudged you, only making you recoil with disgust. "Who said you could call me Star? Don't call me that, dick." You heard your name being called, Alfred standing to the side. He was warning you. "Sorry-" "No need to be a bitch about it." Of course Steph had to join in, you felt your mouth open, ready to spew an infinite amounts of insults when you heard your name being called a second time. Pushing the chair and table hardly you walked behind him, being led to the kitchen. "I apologise for her behaviour." Bruce's voice rung in your ears. Fuck this. .

.

.

You stood, arms crossed out tapping your foot. "You need to have some decorum-" "Decorum? Me? What about Damian?" You hated arguing with the old man, you hated when he was upset at you. The tears were already pouring, could they here this? The door was slightly ajar after all. "Master Damian has been through a lot-" "Okay?" Your voice shook, it was so wrong. But it felt right, right screaming like this. "Yes. Yes he has, and? So have I."

Alfred, mouth was agape for a second, he hadn't seen her this upset before. "Now Miss...you can't compare-" Great now you lost first name privileges. "Right. Everyone's been through tough shit, guess what? So have I!" Your voice getting louder, the anger pulsing through your veins. "I've been hurt and I'd never treat them like how I've been treated!'' Your arm extended out to the door, your other hand slapping your chest. Where your heart would be.

"WHY!...Why is their pain different from my pain?"

The question hung in the air, you held back sobs. Alfred looked tired now, almost guilty. His composure wilting slightly. "It...that's not what I mean-" Now that you had started you couldn't stop. "Do I not deserve the same amount of recognition, the same amount of love?" You felt yourself taking a step back, your whole body shaking. It's like it had a mind of it's own. "You do deserve it, please calm down..." Calm down?. Calm down? She wanted to shout at him, this wasn't fair. "You know what Alfred?" The breaths getting shorter. "What Miss.." "I wish I had stayed inside that day, I wish I burned with my mother." He looked visibly shaken for a moment, his voice gave it away. "You don't mean that." "I mean it. That way I would've died with her, knowing she loved me." Your voice got quiet at the end, barely above a whisper. Why was it always this way? What did you ever do to them. You hated this, you weren't their family. With every similarity there was difference, not a Wayne and not a Bat. But even so why couldn't they accept that and accept you.

.

.

.

The butler placed whatever he was holding down, you didn't know what it was and didn't care. The sobs were too hard to control, it made your body ache. He stepped closer, arms wide as you fell into them. Clinging on like you were going to fall apart.

A/N: Why does this suck lol

[fayes-fics]

Il Ballo del Doge

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU (threesome)

Summary: At the most exclusive event during Carnevale di Venezia, you find yourself sat between two irresistible, handsome brothers…

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, no incest. Modern AU with Regency masquerade roleplay. Sexual acts with strangers. Very light dom/sub undertones, dirty talk, praise kink, frottage, handjob through clothing. Mentions of cunnilingus, blow jobs, vaginal sex, exhibitionism, sex in front of a crowd.

Word Count: 3.7k

Author's note: An exercise to warm up my writing muse that spiralled into a dirty-talking threesome 🤷‍♀️😬 This is modern AU with the boys dressed in Regency masquerade ball garb. Fic title is the name of the most exclusive ball during Carnival. Thanks to @colettebronte for quickly wading through this utter filth. Err enjoy 🧡

Venice.

Carnivale.

A masquerade ball ripped from the pages of history - an opulent smorgasbord of cabaret, circus and epicurean feast, held in a sprawling Venetian palazzo. You are stunned as you arrive; grand architecture ablaze with countless fire torches, jugglers and semi-nude performers under heavy garlands of flowers and vines while champagne overflows into towers of coupe glasses: a modern bacchanalian celebration, a luxurious escape for the rich and connected.

You have saved for years to be here - a once-in-a-lifetime trip. This ball is one night of fantasy and sensual indulgence. Detached from reality, you are plunged into another world behind a Columbina demi mask and elaborate costume picked from an atelier.

So when you find yourself sitting for the banquet between two tall, broad-shouldered, strong-jawed men with aristocratic British accents a few hours into the event, it feels enthralling to flirt with them both. The over-the-top theatricality of the setting and the masks you all wear lend an air of anonymity that makes you unusually daring. They are dressed sharply in full Regency garb, a cut that emphasises their appealing physicality. One of them leans in close as you finish the final course of the night; the meal has been a perfect symphony of flavour building upon the last dish.

“Pray tell, my fair lady, what do you wish for tonight?” 

“A night I will never forget.” 

Your response is truthful but intentionally enigmatic, craning to whisper into his neck, inhaling his delicious, unique, custom-blended aftershave.

“May I assist with that?” He proposes, intent evident from the tone he invokes.

“Perhaps….” You coquette, revelling in the delicious array of possibilities before throwing down a daring gauntlet: “Can you promise to be memorable?”

He huffs a throaty laugh.

“I most certainly hope I can. But safety in numbers may be most prudent to ensure it. Perhaps my brother can assist in such endeavours?” 

He nods to the man sitting on your other side, who turns towards you, smile crooked under his demi mask. 

“I am seated between two brothers?!”

“A Viscount and a renowned artist, no less,” the first man crows, a self-assurance there that speaks volumes to the veracity of his claim. And you can well believe it. Events such as this exclusive ball are the playground of the elite, after all.

“Which of you is the Viscount, and who is the artist?” You query, your gaze moving from one to the other and back again. 

The other man leans in. “Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it? And where is the fun in that?” He hums, his breath ghosting through the tendrils of hair around the ribbon ties of your mask.

“I am Ant, and my brother here is Ben,” the first man explains, “and that is all you need to know.”

You offer your name before tilting your chin to the stage before you. “The evening's entertainment is about to recommence, though, gentlemen.” 

“You will not need to miss a thing,” Ben answers blithely. “We can give you an experience like no other without you even having to leave the very chair you sit in.”

You can’t help the bubble of sceptical laughter at that bold statement. “How?”

“We will talk you through pleasure,” Ant intones, his voice dripping with a confidence that is skating the edges of arrogance. “We will not even need to touch you. In fact, I rather like the onus that we will not.”

You pull an incredulous face. “I’d like to see you try…”

“Oh, my fair lady, that attitude is just a red rag to the proverbial bull,” Ant cautions, voice like smooth velvet sliding over your skin.

Part of you wants to scoff and walk away, part of you wants to be stubborn and prove them wrong, but the biggest part of you, from your neck downwards really, wants them to do just that. Bring you pleasure. Here in public. In this loud, raucous, decadent room filled with hundreds of people.

“Go right ahead gentlemen,” you challenge, your tongue deciding for you as you raise an eyebrow to them each in turn.

Ant reaches around behind him and produces a long, black, polished walking cane. “Fortuitously, this came as a part of my costume,” he offers before pausing a beat to employ a clipped, brusque tone: “Open your legs.”

To your own astonishment, you obey reflexively. With a smirk, Ant slides the cane between your legs, still covered in voluminous skirt layers. He hooks its tip through the foot rung in your chair, then leans its ornate filigree round handle against the dining table in front of you. He rearranges the heavy tablecloth over it and around your lap to completely conceal the cane’s presence.

“Something for you to pleasure yourself against, subtly, of course,” Ant breezes as your head whips to look at him, startled by his matter-of-fact suggestion.

“Do not concern yourself,” Ben reassures. “There is far too much noise and distraction in this vast room for others to know or frankly care. Their attention will also be diverted to the stage and the performers. That is, if they are not themselves being pleasured. There are as many people to be found under these tables as people sitting around them, especially by the end of the night,” his opinion sounding very much based on experience rather than conjecture.  

“Shuffle forward in your chair,” Ant encourages, and again you find yourself doing his bidding. The many layers of your costume scrunch between your legs as you close your thighs around the thin cane, a throb already in your silken underwear at how daring this is, allowing two virtual strangers to do this to you.

“Perfect,” Ben compliments just as the music pipes up loudly and a troupe of dancers take to the stage.

Ant places two napkins on the table before you. 

“If either of us says or does something that you do not like, pick up the serviette closest to that person, and we shall desist,” he explains, a surge of pleasure that you are being given all the power to direct their behaviour. 

“Men of honour,” you comment, impressed, as both men subtly shift their chairs closer, turning into your body slightly. 

“We are gentlemen.” 

“It is a privilege for us to do this.”

A spike of lust races through you at their dulcet tones, so close up now.

“And what should I do if I like what you are doing? For you not to desist?”

You feel more than see the matching smiles on either side of your face.

“Oh, believe me, we shall know…” Ben chuckles richly, “and we will keep doing so until you are satisfied.”

Something in that smoky promise makes your pulse all over, and you swallow heavily, a flush creeping over you at their proximity. You can tell no one is paying the three of you any heed, though, with all attention around you glued to the magnificent performers.

“You may touch us anywhere you wish,” Ant tempts, knowing your eyes have flitted down to the fit of their costumes a few times already, expensive wool wrapped tight around shapely thighs.

“But it doesn’t matter how much you beg; we shall not touch you,” Ben adds teasingly.

You bite your lip, already squirming in your cushioned seat. The tautness of the fabric between your legs due to the cane there has your clit swelling. 

“Now, I rather suspect this fair lady likes a mental picture to be painted…” Ben begins.

“I think you might be right, brother,” Ant concurs. " You are the expert in such matters, after all.”

“So you must be the Viscount…” you crow, almost triumphant, turning fractionally towards Ant.

“Well, aren't you the clever girl?” he hums; that choice of words has a curl of heat unfurling in your gut.

“Of course she is,” Ben cuts in. “If there is one thing we can tell, it’s that you are an independent, smart woman. Who else would travel to Venice and attend such an event all alone? And yet… and yet…. secretly what you crave, what you would never admit to, is just how wet it gets you to be praised and told you are such a good girl, hmmm?”

You exhale shakily, slightly unnerved that he has been able to hit the bullseye so readily but so thrilled for the endless delicious prospects this could portend.

“But how good of a girl can she really be when what she most wants is for us to fuck her right here in public?” Ant piles in; his use of that phrase has you inhaling sharply, taken aback at how quickly it has escalated.

“Don't pretend you don't want that,” Ben clucks. “Your perfect little clit is throbbing right now at the idea, isn't it? Picturing these crowds of people watching, salivating and wishing it were them inside you. Watching as you claw at this table and take us both in turn….”

You are indeed clutching the side of the table already, nails digging into the wood through the cloth, breath stolen by just how explicit they are being. And yet, as promised, they do not lay a finger on you except the press of their clothed thighs against yours where they surround you on both sides. You rock further forward in your chair without even realising, needing to feel that hard rod against your slit, the relief that pushing yourself against it will bring.

“I rather think you would demand our tongues first, though,” Ant remarks casually.

“Oh, I wouldn't doubt it,” Ben agrees. “For us to throw your legs over our shoulders and feast upon you. Run our tongues over and over until you are shivering and pulling our hair, directing us just where you want us. I suspect you are the type who wants to taste yourself in the mouth of those who pleasure you. For them to kiss you with their tongue thick with your arousal, face glazed with your juices.”

You are breathing ragged, honestly spellbound by their ability. 

“And I bet you taste delicious. Like ripe berries, sweet but tart,” Ant contends. “A flavour that bursts on the tongue like a fine wine.”

He reaches for his glass and waits for you to watch him take an indulgent sip, the bob of his Adam’s Apple as he swallows. But he allows a drop to escape around the corner of his mouth dribbling a line that you track covetously, tongue feeling heavy, wanting to lick it from his hint of chin stubble.

“Remember, you can touch. That includes with your tongue, sweet girl,” he goads before using the pad of his thumb to wipe away that tempting trickle provocatively.

You can’t help the light moan that escapes your lips, grinding against the pole he has placed between your legs; the spike of pleasure it causes as it crushes your clit has you shuddering.

“That’s it,” Ben gusts. “Treat that swollen little pearl just a little rough. I bet all those layers of fabric are just adding to the exquisite ache….” 

His hand lands on the table next to yours, not touching but close enough that you can see how long and shapely his fingers are compared to your own. He swirls his pointer and middle finger slowly on the tablecloth in a circular motion. An intentional tease that you stare at, your hips somehow syncopating with the speed of his movements, imagining that very hand buried between your thighs.

“That’s it,” he repeats, “not too fast, not too slow.”

“Just enough to make you reckless with need,” Ant interjects. “You would do anything we told you to if we got you to that sweet spot, wouldn’t you?”

You nod without even realising it.

“Oh, I know it,” Ant gloats. “I would tease you for so long you forget your own name. Clit so swollen you can’t cross your legs. Begging and pleading for relief…”

These men use words like finely-honed weapons. Each phrase is seemingly expertly designed to take you apart at the seams. Your hands splay out on the table, and you grab each of theirs, clutching the back of their knuckles into your palm as you rub yourself shamelessly.

“You get the prettiest flush when you’re aroused,” Ben whispers, his eyes flitting down to your décolletage. “I wonder how far it goes? Does it keep going all the way to those pretty, puffy lips that are wrapped around that cane right now?”

The way he says it conjures the thought of your mouth wrapped around a cock; in no doubt that both of theirs are likely sizeable.

“I know what you’re thinking of,” Ant murmurs darkly as you keep writhing, a bead of sweat running down your spine into your underwear. “I know you are a dirty little thing who loves to be on your knees as well. I can tell how much you love the power. Having a man vulnerable in your mouth. Their rapt attention begging you to suck a little harder, a little deeper.” 

“She loves to tease,” Ben surmises as they lean in closer, both lips dusting the shell of your ear. “Little strands of saliva roping from your lips as you pull off and look up goadingly through your lashes. You love to feel the tremble of thighs under your palms, don’t you? That feeling when your lips are all swollen and your cheeks aching from all that sucking. But most of all, you love to have a man come undone in your mouth. To swallow every drop you have earned…”

You are panting openly, harshly, your mouth filled with saliva as you imagine how tasty they likely are, a sweetness that makes it pleasant, addictive almost. A yearning for either to stand up, unzip right now and offer you their cock to suck upon. All around you, lights swirl, and the music swells louder, obscuring what is happening at this table. The most risqué you have ever behaved, wantonly frottaging yourself as two strangers, albeit handsome refined gentlemen, spout utter filth.

“Tell me how you’d fuck me,” you demand, gasping, rhythmically crushing your throbbing clit, wanting to come so bad your skin itches.

“I’d go first,” Ben huffs, his breathing uneven now too. “You’re already dripping down to your knees from our tongues; you can take me, can’t you, sweet girl?”

Again, you find yourself nodding; your lip darkened from your incisor tooth snagging upon it.

“I think what you might enjoy is being face down,” he rumbles dangerously. “So you can’t see everyone watching you at first. Just hear their shocked but approving noises. Your forehead on this tablecloth as I place a hand on your spine to quell your quivering from behind. Drag your hips over this table and plough right into your weeping little cunt.”

That word is the catalyst. You can no longer hold back. Your hands fly into both of their laps and grab their thighs forcefully, loving the feel of warm, latent muscle as your fingers curl into their quads. 

“Oh, you like that…” Ant assesses correctly.

You hiss your assent as Ben continues.

“You are so perfect for me, aren’t you? Such a pretty pussy, all swollen and puffy and soaked as I split you open. I’m not going to go slow because that’s not what you want, is it? You want sharp thrusts, your toes leaving the ground with each snap, pressed hard into the table, your nipples rubbing just a little raw inside your corset. You want your entire body to jerk with each thrust, clit catching the table edge….”

Your responding yes is sibilant, as all around you, the frenzy of entertainment continues, spotlights swirling, performers contorting themselves in a seeming match for your fever.

“You want my hands clamped on your hips, tugging you back into my cock. Curled over you and praising how well you take it and what a good girl you are for me and for letting everyone watch. You feel so divine, squeezing my cock so tight that my eyes roll. Butttt…” he rolls that last letter in his mouth as if a tasty treat, his hand flexing on the table. “My poor sweet thing, just as you are babbling, clawing and moaning so beautifully, drooling onto this cloth right here, I'm going to pull out and leave you wanting, for we are not ready to have you come again. Not yet, my sweet girl. We want you mindless, to build you up so many times over that you are aching. The reward will be so much sweeter for you in the end that way, won't it?”

No one has ever talked to you in such precise, poetic detail before. Your hands grasp their thighs roughly, but they maintain their promise, even as you see the mutinous desire in the flex of their bodies, a muzzled yen to touch you back. It makes you need them more, how much control they can exert despite wanting the opposite. You are shameless in your motions now, pushing yourself towards that high; part of you wishes to plunge your fingers into yourself, and part of you wants to see if you can orgasm untouched, coming undone with just their words and friction.

“Don't stop,” Ant gasps. “Make yourself come, sweet girl.”

“I want to grab both of your cocks,” you confess rapidly, the truth tumbling from your lips as you ratchet higher.

“Do it…” Ant dares you, as out the corner of your eye you can see his are glittering darkly, pupils blown. 

They both growl as you twist your wrists and slide your hands greedily up their laps, shamelessly palming their erections, straining against their trousers under the table. The heat and mass of them both has your pussy quivering, knowing from this touch alone just how satisfied you would be to feel either or, ideally, both of them fuck you. Their grip on the table has their knuckles turning white as Ant speaks anew, a tinge of desperation in his words that has you gleeful.

“My brother has had a little of his fun; now it's my turn. And I think you are ready to see all those gathered around you, even those onstage gazing down upon you. So I am going to flip you over, my sweet girl. Place your ankles upon my shoulders, that drenched little slit ruining my trousers before I tug open my fly and take you too. How prettily you howl my name as I slide into you. This sturdy table is going to squeak, isn't it? You are such a demanding thing, ordering me to fuck you harder, your hands clawing at my jacket, your heels clicking together behind my head. Perhaps my brother needs to be on the other side of the table, holding your shoulders down so all can see. Maybe even ripping open your dress, your beautiful breasts bouncing with each thrust I take, my good girl. You want this and so much more, don’t you? For me to fuck you endlessly right here, right now….”

And it's true. You yearn for what they promise. For them to bury their tongues between your thighs, for you to be on your knees before them, sucking the very life out of their cocks. For them to throw you onto this same table and fuck you so hard and thoroughly, you leave fingernail marks on the wood. To have the whole crowd watch as you near peak after peak until you are a swollen, fucked-out mess. Craving nothing but more, another orgasm, that mind-blowing pleasure that makes you soar high above as well as stay rooted so deep in your body you feel a weight in your bone that is pure rapture. 

And just like that, you are breaking, burying your face into Ant’s neck as you wrap an arm around Ben’s. Shuddering violently as you crest that edge, febrile pleasure breaking over your skin, each cell of your body seeming to snap taut and then relax into waves of bliss, floating somewhere high above the sparkling chandeliers that hang from each beam. Dimly, you hear them murmuring your praises, but it's muffled by the rush of blood in your head. It seems to last forever, jerking and spasming against that cane, wanting instead to feel their weight on top of you, their cocks spurting deep within you as you reach that peak in harmony. When you come back to yourself, you realise your hands are still unconsciously squeezing their cocks through their clothing, and suddenly you snatch your hands from their laps.

“Don’t you dare come,” you snarl, as they groan enchantingly, so close and yet denied at the very last moment.

“Why?” Ant puffs, a vein on his forehead pulsing beguilingly.

“Because I need you to fuck me…” you grit out between your teeth. “Both of you,” you add, addressing Ben, his whole body quaking as you utter it. 

Even though your knees feel like jelly, you push back your chair, the cane clattering to the floor and rolling under the table, forgotten, as you stand up and grab their hands, hauling them from their seats. You are uncaring if anyone stares at you, costumes dishevelled and askew, as you march towards the exit. Neither resists as you tug them out of the ballroom, down the long grand stairwell and outside to the gondolas lined up on the dock, ready to ferry people back to their hotels. 

“I have one requirement…” you practically bark as you push them both down onto a seat, twisting to name your hotel to the gondolier behind you, his smirk unmistakable. 

“Which is…?” Ant prompts, staring up at you as you tower over them, your eyes drawn inexorably to the unmistakable outline still nestled in both of their trousers. 

You take a seat on the bench opposite them in the narrow boat. Wordlessly pulling up your layers of skirt and peeling down your ruined underwear, tossing them into the canal as they stare covetously, likely catching a glimpse between your legs before you roll your skirt back down.

“You had both better fucking touch me...” you finally reply.

They throw their heads back and laugh heartily, twisting to look at each other briefly, seeming to communicate silently before their gazes land back on you, almost predatory.

“You can bloody count on it,” they growl in unison.

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[platoapproved]

I'm still reading TVA and I gotta say for the benefit of IWTV show fans who haven't yet / aren't gonna read the books and are learning about them solely via tumblr: we GOTTA set aside some time in our busy killing Marius schedule to also kill Santino and Allesandra (from the Roman coven of the Children of Darkness that Armand mentions in the museum scene) because holy shit:

LIST OF CRIMES (some of these they don't do personally but they're sanctioning all of it)

the Roman coven kidnap all the boys from Marius' palazzo and throw them one by one onto a bonfire because they deserve to die "for their Master's sins"

Toss Armand in the fire as well but pull him out before he dies, leave him in a cell to suffer his burns.

Santino to Armand when he refuses to listen to Santino's indoctrination:

Santino again:

... then has one of the vampires in the coven dump the ashes from the other boys all over Armand's face so they get in his eyes and mouth.

Santinto to Armand (talking about Marius at first) 😒:

When Armand still resists indoctrination:

Lock Armand up in a cell and starve him for a week before tossing in Riccardo, his human best friend who he loves like a brother, who they specifically did not burn and kept aside for this purpose. Armand drains Riccardo before even realizing it is him and they refuse to remove Riccardo's body so Armand just has to be in there with it rotting.

Continue the cycle of leaving Armand starving completely alone in the dark for a week, bringing him a human victim, leaving the body there to rot. for like FIVE MONTHS while Armand loses his mind and starts seeing ghosts.

then:

[biteghost]

Blueshift TTRPG Season 2 Character Portraits

Season 2 of Blueshift saw the Player Characters thrust into the bodies of alternate universe versions of themselves! This universe is a High Fantasy world. Their boss, Alcyone, spent all his energy transporting them there, and the effort caused him to enter a dormant state. The PCs were on their own to solve the mystery of how to leave this world and return to their own universe!

Dicho (he/him) (PC): Demon and wandering medic with ties to the black market.

Greip, Knight of Saturn (he/him) (PC): Human cursed by a dragon to be a Blood Fiend (basically a vampire) for eating its eggs.

Vivienne De'Gallant (they/them) (PC): Squire to Knight Angela Forest, serving out a life-debt owed to her. Also bearer of a family curse that allows them to don a monstrously powerful form, but each time it is used the transformation back to normal becomes more difficult and less appealing...

King Saturn (he/him) (NPC): The Heart of Stone - a isolated and cold man who is seeking... warmth.

Aura Thorne, Knight of Saturn (he/they) (NPC): A messy but competent bitch who was introduced eating a salad. They don't really love the PCs, but eventually begrudgingly respect them.

Axis Carmichael, Knight-Hopeful (he/him) (NPC): Tag-along to Aura, learning the ways of the Knights of Saturn.

The Chain, Knight of Saturn (they/them) (NPC): A silent Knight who stays posted in the capital, close to the King. They have an unconfessed crush on Sophia Lund, Assistant to the Archmage.

Viktor De'Gallant, Knight of Saturn (he/him) (NPC): Viv's baby brother and big-shot Knight of Saturn, recently returned to the capital after dropping off criminals to The Hive.

Rapala Rinehart, Archmage of Saturn (she/her) (NPC): A woman with no scruples and few morals who only seeks new knowledge at the sake of all else. Vivisected Greip while he was alive at one point.

Viveca De'Gallant, Assistant to the Archmage (she/her) (NPC): Viv's middlest sibling who is doing pretty well for herself. Rapala is a taskmaster and keeps her and Sophia very busy, but it's better than being on the streets...

Sophia Lund, Assistant to the Archmage (she/her) (NPC): A nervous and shy woman with an unconfessed crush on The Chain.

Couch (he/him) (NPC): A human man who was shoved into Greip's original Celestial body, found in the lowest levels of The Hive. The players put him inside a Cape of Holding to break him out of jail, and gave him simple games and toys to keep him entertained.

M (they/them) (NPC): A 'criminal' who tried to 'assassinate' King Saturn in order to make a big enough splash that their companions would find them. This is the same M they've known the whole game, not an alternate universe version.

Jimothy Criquette, "King" of Palazzo (he/him) (NPC): A retired entrepreneur and father to maron, he's happy in this universe.

Maron Criquette, King of Palazzo (she/her) (NPC): Jimothy's daughter and current boss of Palazzo. Cool and competent, she becomes business partners and friends with the PCs.

Andrew Wallace, Scout (he/him) (NPC): The Fantasy-World equivalent of an FBI agent, Andrew is on the hunt for Doris and enlists the PCs help in catching her.

Agnes, The Witch of the Lake (she/her) (NPC): A hermit living in isolation who trades magic items to the PCs.

Madame Elizabeth Doris (she/her) (NPC): A master thief... who remembers the previous world?! She is seeking a series of macguffins in order to get back to her original world and body.

Maya Lancaster (she/they) (NPC): M from the Fantasy World, a pilgrim seeking knowledge. The players know that Minerva will try to kill and eat Maya, so they befriend her and keep them safe so they don't have to enter the weird M & Minerva circus.

Van Helsing (she/her) (NPC): A professor who is knowledgeable about all types of curses and ailments, the PCs seek her help with their own curses. She enjoys bowling for fun.

patreon ✦ BACKLASH ✦ bsky

[nightcolorz]

Can I ask what was Armand 's time like with the original coven/cult? I haven't read the books but I have heard how he was forced into him and it seems like a terrible time. I get how it started but he seems to have spent centuries working for the cult, if you can call it that and I was wondering how was it like? Did he really spent all that time in a cemetery? The coven seems to form the largest part of his life and I have really been wondering what those years have been like to him.

omg good question!! Thank u for the ask!!

the cult backstory part of the vampire Armand is actually relatively short considering how much time he spent there, but we r given a lot of details that give us an idea of what it was like. U said u know how it started but imma talk about that anyway for comprehension sake lol. So when he’s seventeen (in the book of course lol, in the show he’d be much older when this happens) and he had been turned into a vampire maybe within the last month or so, very very young vampire, the “children of darkness” storm Marius’s palazzo with intent to kill him. The children of darkness are a vampire coven (that most ppl in the fandom call a cult bcus they r by definition a religious cult lol) that has existed for a long time, has multiple covens throughout multiple parts of Europe. and believes that vampires are part of gods plan as demon like servants who r put on earth to serve him by spreading evil that god can fight. They believe that goodness can only exist if evil exists to combat it, and by spreading evil they r working for gods plan. So the children of darkness think that vampires, as servants of evil, should live in cemeteries with the rats, bcus they are meant to be low lives, and to refuse any indulgences such as living in houses or having mortal friends. The logic is that bcus they r like devils, they must create their own personal hell, bcus Devils arent worthy of having nice things and shouldn’t be nice to humans. So that’s why they live in cemeteries lol, and don’t have clean clothes.

so Marius is not catholic lmao (all children of darkness members are), he literally is Roman and was born before the Christian god was created. And he lives in a giant palace and has a team of mortal servants and, yknow a prostitute child who he turned into a vampire recklessly. So the Children of darkness r a very big cult, and so they believe that they r the ultimate authority that every vampire should follow, and vampires who don’t follow them r heretics (basically like Christianity historically). So to punish Marius they kill him with fire, kill all his mortal residents and the children who r living with him as his painting apprentices. They obviously can tell Armand is a vampire lol, and for being a breaking of the laws in his very existence (a vampire who was made without authority from the coven and was made as a child, also a vampire who has severe mental illness that Marius acknowledges as a disability that will make him unable to function as a vampire), they plan to kill him, sort of for the same logic Armand kills Claudia and Madeline, bcus he will die soon anyway. They line all the children (who Armand considers his brothers) up in front of a huge bonfire and throw them in as Armand is being held back screaming and trying to fight them. They are about to throw Armand in the fire with them, but the leader of the coven Santino, who is an Italian catholic who u can tell is sort of resigned and non violent, believes in the coven but doesn’t take any joy in the cruelty, sees that Armand has a history of being very very catholic and sees that he has a learned servitude and learned helplessness that would make him a very willing part of a catholic cult. He knows that Armand’s devotion to god and willingness to debase himself to honor god (he used to be a monk as a kid) would make him a good cult member, but he also can see that living with Marius has buried those tendencies in him, and he’s much more secular now. So he decides to let Armand live and indoctrinate him into the coven, aiming to beat the cult member tendencies back into him.

Santino takes armand into the catacombs and Armand is very resistant lol, he’s like why do u think I would join u I hate u u killed my master and u killed my brothers. He’s being mocked by the coven members, one guy throws his brothers ashes on his face 😭 and Armand in retaliation violently kills the guy and rips his head off and throws it into the skulls lined on the wall. Santino is Like wow. This kid is strong, he has like genuine potential. So he becomes dead set on making sure Armand becomes a part of their cult.

Santino talks to Armand to a while and explains their beliefs, hoping to convince Armand to be complaint that way. He tells him he’ll kill him if he doesn’t join them, which still doesn’t get Armand to want to comply. Santino introduces Armand to a vampire named Allessandra, who becomes sort of a maternal and mentor figure for Armand while he joins the coven. To force Armand to comply Santino then locks him in a cage and starves him of blood for weeks and weeks on end. Since Armand is a very young vampire, and young vampires need to eat multiple times a night, he’s been reduced to an animal because of how hungry he is. It’s basically like when Louis is trapped in the coffin in iwtv s2. It’s described that he’s yowling and throwing himself at the bars, biting into his arms and drinking his own blood, going completely insane, hallucinating. (Alessandra sometimes comes to sooth him while he’s loosing his shit in the cage and calls him a poor boy, pleads with Santino to let him out, stuff like that, which I think is sweet lol). Eventually the coven vampires feed Armand, and they release a teenaged boy into his cage. Armand instantly attacks and kills the boy without thinking or seeing him, and after he’s already dead Armand realizes that he just killed his closest friend and brother Riccardo, who was kept from being killed in the fire for this purpose. Armand desperately tries to turn Riccardo so he won’t die, but he’s long gone.

This absolutely pushes Armand over the edge, and he’s forced to share his containment now with the corpse of his best friend who he just killed. He tears his corpse apart so he doesn’t have to look at his face, starts throwing his limbs outside the bars, insane stuff like that. Armand is then starved again for several more weeks, and when he is eventually fed he is given a scared orphan child. Armand kills the child in his starvation and then starts to hallucinate guilty visions of the dead child in containment with him. It’s implied that this goes on in similar fashion for a long time.

when Armand is eventually released the indoctrination has worked. The intent of the torture was to teach Armand that he was a monster who deserved to live in catacombs, and that he wasn’t meant to live a life of indulgence like his master. The torture was also intended to drain him of any fight he had and to drain any hope he had of escaping. Armand is so defeated and devastated that he doesn’t care about escaping, he just goes through the motions, he’s lost everything. The coven decides that Armand’s name can not remain Amadeo, bcus of what it represents, since Marius named him Amadeo and means it “beloved of god”. Alessandra renames Armand to well, Armand lol. Armand means warrior.

after this Armand’s time in the coven isn’t described in depth, but we r told that the daily routine of the coven includes going out and tormenting and violently killing humans, indoctrinating and kidnapping vampires, and sleeping in coffins and doing rituals in the catacombs. Pretty quickly into his time as a coven member Santino sends Armand to go rule a coven in Paris, which has been abandoned by its master and needs a new one. Armand is given this opportunity bcus of how strong he is from Marius’s blood, and bcus of how uniquely dedicated and obedient he is. Santino knows that Armand is strong and resilient enough to be a leader, while also being obedient and compliant enough to not abandon his position. Armand asks to bring Alessandra with him bcus he needs someone to guide him in this position he’s never had before, and Santino allows him to.

Armand falls into the role of leader easily, just going through the motions passionlessly. He’s never been a leader before, but he’s able to fall into it with the mindset of obedience he has taken when being a part of the cult. Armand is in charge as coven master of doing all the thing to others that he was once put through, he tortures and starves vampires, kills them for breaking rules, stuff like that. Armand doesn’t believe in the covens principles, he is only a part of the coven because he feel he has no other choice. Coven leaders often abandon their stations and live normal lives, but Armand doesn’t do this bcus he doesn’t know how to live without smth to devote himself to. He’s never lived independently, he was turned as a teenager 😭 a teen who was being abused, and that’s all he knows how to be. He daydreams often about Marius coming to save him, but obviously this never happens.

We are told that Armand’s life continues in this way in much the same low action, depressing fashion until lestat comes around, the only change being that Allessandra goes crazy from old age and depression and kills herself. Lestat is the only reason Armand’s life with the coven ends, it’s implied he would have lived that way forever if he hadn’t been stopped.

Even tho the children of darkness part is pretty short and doesn’t detail much of the long time Armand spent there, it definitely informs a lot about Armand’s character. It’s a massive influence on how he perceives life as a vampire and why he reacts with so much disproportionate violence and cruelty for seemingly no reason. The reason Armand kills Claudia is very cult based, bcus for him he sees her death as a necessary part of Vampire Law. And Armand continues for the rest of his life to see extreme violence and torture as a necessary, common aspect of life that some scenarios demand. The cult also changes his personality a lot, within a few months he goes from a rebellious strong spirited kid to a cold and wide eyed monster who moves through the world like a ghost. It’s only during devils minion that Armand starts to regain his ability to be a person and starts to find a life for himself where he isn’t submitting to a purpose or a leader, for the first time in his existence

thank u again for the ask!!! I hope I answer ur question + this is what u were looking for, lol

[teecupangel]

Cat Bureau but its just Malik dealing with his Little Cat brother Kadar, Altaïr’s continued adoption streak, and the strange Novice who seems to be having a religious experience in the backroom every day with the strange maybe deity that arrived with them- oh and the local merchants can’t understand him, wonderful…

The “Altaïr gets a cult (but nobody cares about that) and gets lots of cats against his will” idea and the “Malik and Altaïr bickers like an old married couple” side-idea with its sorta sequel “Ezio breaks down and starts doubting every cat he sees” idea. And the “Ezio looks for someone to cat-sit the army of cats while Altaïr, Malik and Desmond usurp Mario” mini-fic.

Morning strolls were the most peaceful time for Malik.

Altaïr was training in the big courtyard in the middle of their palazzo, surrounded by his children all acting like they were training with him and not just playing around.

Desmond was still asleep and will be asleep until Malik asks one of the cats to wake him up for breakfast. Desmond liked to sleep in but he was also always the last to sleep at night. He keeps saying it was his ‘internal clock’ still needing time to adjust and Malik has stopped trying to understand the many strange words Desmond uses at times. Unlike Altaïr, he preferred not to ask Desmond so many questions about words he said in passing.

His morning stroll would always lead him to the market and he had gotten used to haggling with the merchants there. His Italian was still limited but some of them spoke Latin which he could converse with. His use of Latin seemed to make people assume that he was some kind of monk from a religious sector or another.

He never bothered to correct them.

They didn’t give discounts to monks here (no matter how much Desmond complained). He did know that Desmond gets to pay less for more than he did but he always assumed it was because Desmond had a way with words and he was fluent in Italian.

Desmond, however, was not good at discerning the best ingredient to buy. He was better than Altaïr though but Malik would rather he be the one in charge of buying their food.

“Meow!”

“Hm? What’s the matter, Kadar?” Malik turned slightly to look at the small kitten gripping his shoulders with his little claws. Clear blue eyes stared back at him as the kitten meowed once more.

It was the same meow he always made whenever he was going to Altaïr.

Malik sighed and looked at what had caught the attention of the only feline companion he had.

“Oh, Malik! We have your favorite fish! As fresh as they can be!” The fishmonger he frequented caught him looking around and waved his hands towards the stall.

To be completely honest, Malik was unsure if he heard the fishmonger right. The actual words he knew from what he said were his name, ‘favorite’, ‘fish’ and ‘fresh’.

Looking at the fishes he was selling today though…

Malik’s expression remained neutral but he turned to look at kitten on his shoulder.

That was a mistake.

The kitten was giving him the biggest pleading eyes he had ever seen.

Malik let out a long suffering sigh and began to walk towards the fishmonger’s stall.

It seemed breakfast would be Altaïr’s favorite fish today.

He’ll buy a bit more since that strange novice who has been visiting Desmond every day might visit them during breakfast.

… again.

[moesartblog]

hey so ive been dealing a sudden surge of yet another set of horrid symptoms, which may be related to hyperthyroidism from over medication of thyroxine so ive been going through these Assassin's Creed AU fic chapters

I'm still having a hard time drawing so I'm using some old drawings which don't fully match the text but whatever.

I'm sorta just gonna be doing some vignettes of times before the starting events of the game

I hope you all will enjoy these fics!

CHP 2

The march back to the Palazzo Pazzi seemed to drag on for an eternity. The sun bore down through a cloudless sky, in a way that didn’t fit with the atmosphere of the events of the day. A 6-year-old Vieri kept a tight grip on his father’s black cloak, with his sister trailing close behind both of them.

The Pazzi family had just left the funeral of Serena, the mother of Vieri and Viola.

Francesco held a dour look on his face, without falter. He walked slowly, with an energy that spoke to how little he wanted to be disturbed. Viola’s face was blank, with her black veil carefully fixed over her eyes. She kept just a pace behind her father and brother. Vieri, stuck to his father’s side, was still fighting back tears, with a small sniffle here and there. As they walked, he would glance up at his father, and each time would see the same expression on his face; stern and closed off.

While walking through the busy streets of Florence, the occasional passerby would offer expressions of sympathy, but dared not approach the family, for fear of how Francesco might react.

Less than a block from their palazzo, Vieri heard two young, jovial voices approaching rapidly. As suddenly as he first heard them, a young Federico rounded the corner at full speed, and raced straight over to an abandoned cart that sat beside a wall. Slapping his hand on it, he let out a loud “I WIN!”, with a gleeful giggle. Just a second later, his younger brother, Ezio came around the corner, with heaving breaths. When he finally caught up to his brother, he stopped just short of the cart and bent over to put his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

Federico, also still catching his breath, leaned back confidently on the cart. “One day, baby brother, you will catch up to me!”

Ezio looked at him with a bit of irritation. “Please… stop saying that… after every race…hah…” Ezio let his head hang back down for just a few more moments. Noticing his little brother seemed to be a little dejected, Federico patted Ezio’s back reassuringly.

“I truly mean it every time I say it, Ezio. But, for now, I remain the superior racer.” Federico chuckled, while Ezio rolled his eyes.

Vieri had been observing the two during his own slow walk. Seeing the two brothers rib on each other, he felt a twinge of jealousy. Why did they get to be so happy while he had lost his mother? At the same time, he longed for a comforting connection like they had. He let go of his father’s cloak and started to walk towards the two brothers, when their mother suddenly appeared around the corner. He stopped just short of them.

“You two need to stop running off on a whim, or I swear you will send me into hysterics.” Maria’s scolding was soft but stern. Both Federico and Ezio apologized in unison, and moved to each side of their mother to hold her hands. As she turned to walk back to where they had come from, Maria caught sight of Vieri, red-faced, and wide eyed. He stood still with his hands nervously clasped together, set small in the wide street. Maria had only a handful of interactions with the Pazzi family, but she recognized the little son of Francesco de Pazzi, and she had recently caught wind of Serena’s passing.  With a sad smile, she slowly approached the little boy.

“Hello, little one. How are you?” Maria asked softly.

Vieri stood still, frozen, and unsure of how to respond. It took a long moment for him to collect his thoughts before he forced out a quiet “Not good…”

 Francesco suddenly appeared behind him and roughly grabbed his arm. “Vieri, what did I tell you about wandering off?” He glanced up to where Maria, Federico, and Ezio were standing. “Auditores,” he said indifferently.

Maria stood straight with a smile. “Francesco. I wanted to offer you my condolences for the loss of your wife. Serena was a wonderful woman, and it is truly a tragedy that she is no longer with us.”

Francesco, keeping a dour look on his face, just responded with a quick “Thank you,” and then gestured for his son to follow him back to where they had been walking. Vieri moved to rejoin his father and sister but then paused briefly to look back at the three. Federico gave the little Pazzi a little sympathetic wave, and Ezio, looking over to his brother, copied his wave. Vieri blinked, then quickly returned to his father’s side.

As they continued the rest of the short walk back to their home, Vieri thought back to the two young Auditore’s hanging onto their mother. He suddenly felt hot streams running down his cheeks. He couldn’t control the wave of despair coming on, and in a final effort to stave off the feeling, he looked up expectantly at his father. But instead of seeing a comforting face to help him through this, he just saw a stern face, looking directly ahead of them. He let his head fall and began shakily crying. His sobs still would not grab the attention of his father, but he felt Viola’s hand slide around his hair, careful not to knock off his hat. She didn’t say a word, but simply held Vieri at her side, as he tried to hold back his sobs.

[helianthus21]

I am thinking about the DM Moulin Rouge AU and an angle I hadn't considered is how much Satine lines up with human Amadeo as opposed to Armand. The courtesan angle is obvious but I had forgotten that Amadeo ALSO gets sick and "dies." Like in a world where vampires don't exist, after a climactic showdown with a rich man obsessed with him who paid for his companionship, Amadeo would have died, JUST like Satine. 🤯 It's like Daniel in the 80s after learning about Armand's human life sits down and writes himself into it, trying to imagine what a life for them in another universe could have been, but of course Daniel would see a human life for them as a tragedy...

sTOP don't give me even more ideas for this 😭

you're right, Lord Harlech really is the most obvious choise for the Duke like he's also a rich aristocrat who wants Amadeo all to himself and gets crazy possessive about it

plus the way Satine (at least in the musical) is hugely protective of the other girls vs Amadeo protecting his brothers in the palazzo 🥺 imagine if he would've had a idealistic little poet to romance him back then, oh Amadeo would've instantly melted for him man!

[scotianostra]

January 1st 1766 saw the death of James Francis Edward Stuart, in Rome.

Born after nine previous children died either at birth or shortly after and a tenth who died at age four, a rumour, likely started by Protestant partisans, was almost immediately spread that a living child had been smuggled into the birthing chamber in a warming pan after the royal child had been born dead. At birth he was created 1st Duke of Rothesay, styled as Earl of Chester and Prince James of Wales. He was also created 1st Duke of Cornwall.

Fearing another Roman Catholic monarch, a Protestant group invited James II’s Protestant daughter by his first marriage, Mary, to take the throne, supplanting both her father and half-brother. Her acceptance resulted in what became known as the Glorious Revolution of 1688.

James was raised in exile in France where he became the focus for Jacobites hopes. Upon his father’s death in 1701, he declared himself king and was recognized as the heir by several Roman Catholic monarchs, but was attainted for treason by Act of Parliament in March 1702 in Britain and his titles were forfeited under British law.

He attempted an invasion of Britain in March 1708, but his fleet was driven off. Another attempt was made in 1715 when he achieved landfall in Scotland but had missed the crucial Battle of Sherriffmuir disappointed by the lack of support instead of attempting a planned coronation at Scone, he retreated back to France.

By this time the French were at peace with Britain and he was no longer welcome in the country. He was invited by Pope Clement XI of the Palazzo Muti to make Rome his residence. In September 1719, he married Maria Sobieski and with her had two sons, Charles Edward and Henry. He presided over his Roman Jacobite court for the remainder of his life.

He died at age 77 in Rome. He was buried within the Vatican City, in what we know as The Monument to the Royal Stuarts. The marble monument is by Antonio Canova, the most celebrated Italian sculptor of his day. It is in the form of a truncated obelisk. It carries profile portraits of the three exiled princes, and the following inscription:

IACOBO·III IACOBI·II·MAGNAE·BRIT·REGIS·FILIO KAROLO·EDVARDO ET·HENRICO·DECANO·PATRUM·CARDINALIVM IACOBI·III·FILIIS REGIAE·STIRPIS·STVARDIAE·POSTREMIS ANNO·M·DCCC·XIX

(To James III, son of King James II of Great Britain, to Charles Edward and to Henry, Dean of the Cardinal Fathers, sons of James III, the last of the Royal House of Stuart. 1819)

Below the inscription are two weeping angels, symbolising the lost hopes of the exiled Stuarts.

[onceinawhilemoon]

Some food for fanfic:

So "James Mallus" aka "M" (aka James Moriarty even though it's not canonically confirmed, yet) arrived at Il Palazzo del Lusso on the same day as Sherlock and checked in just before him... hm.

There’s no recorded time of arrival for any of the guests, so we can only speculate. But what are the chances that M was also on the same train/ferry as Sherlock and had been following him closely since he left his home in London?

I looked up Nelson's Monument and Trafalgar Sqaure to see if they held any significance in the ACD canon. The only relevant detail I was able to find was that the square falls within close proximity to Pall Mall and the Diogenes Club.

Frogwares might have had an entirely different plotline planned for M and Sherlock involving this specific location since the Diogenes Club is never mentioned in CO and TA and it doesn’t seem to exist in this universe, but still I couldn't help but have a little freak out session at this info because WHAT IF M WAS KEEPING TABS ON MYCROFT TOO? WHAT IF HE WAS IMPLICITLY THREATENING SHERLOCK WITH HIS BROTHER'S SAFETY?

What if M knew that Sherlock would seek Mycroft’s assistance and left this photograph as a way to say, "You think you're being clever and playing it safe by leaving this matter in your brother's hands, but guess what, I'm watching him too, and I'm several steps ahead of you both."

[ladystarksneedle]

Do you have any art/painting recommendation which are very teen aegon coded

From top left: (descriptions are from left to right side)

Detail of frescoes in the Hall of the Months, Palazzo Schifanoia,

Portrait of Guiliano De Medici by Benozzo di Lese di Sandro Gozzoli

Carlo Crivelli catalogue raisonné, 1975 Bovero

Portrait of a Young Man Cosmè Tura (Cosimo di Domenico di Bonaventura)

Boy with Wine Glass and Flute Jacob Gerritszoon[a] Cuyp or Cuijp 1652

Rembrandt van Rijn, Man with a Hawk, 1643

A late portrait of the two sons of the 3rd Duke of Lennox, Lord John Stuart and his Brother, Lord Bernard Stuart; Anthony van Dyck.

Portrait of two brothers by Henri Gascar (1635 –1701)

[volterran-wine]

Are the Romanians the ones who spread the rumour about the Queens being stuck in the tower?

𝐂𝐚𝐢𝐮𝐬: ... Oh I have not forgot how it was our dear guests who started the rumours about how me and Aro treat our spouses. Personally, I believe The Whore and The Oaf has taken advantage of our hospitality for long enough.

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬: Caius,-

𝐂𝐚𝐢𝐮𝐬: Marcus,-

𝐕𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐫: Seeing sweet Athenodora out and about nearly makes my stone cold heart beat once more, you must be doing something correctly after millennia of chasing shadowy beasts up the wall.

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐟𝐚𝐧: As if he can keep his wife happy.

𝐂𝐚𝐢𝐮𝐬: ... ... ...

-

𝐀𝐫𝐨: Seeing as though my brother has now chased our dear Romanian neighbours out of the palazzo, it it is time for this little event to come to an end. I entrust you all into Nathalie's capable hands once more.

— 𝐶𝑎𝑖𝑢𝑠, 𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑐𝑢𝑠, 𝑆𝑡𝑒𝑓𝑎𝑛, 𝑉𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑟 & 𝐴𝑟𝑜

[copperbadge]

In Re: Carlo and Pride, I imagine Caleb's reaction to Galia's Big Shiny Parade will be something along the lines of "Good for them! Still not going!!!!!!!" ?

AHAHAHA yeah, I mean -- I think Caleb is softening a little towards Galia, because he's reached a point where he kind of knows who he is and who he wants to be, and he's comfortable with that, has a strong support network, a loving partner, social capital. But Fons-Askaz is his home, and if anything his conversation with Michaelis, where Michaelis is like "But you live, eat, teach, pay taxes here...you are Shivadh in any way that matters" affirmed that Galia is not somewhere he particularly wants or needs to return to.

There is a short story, not completed yet because I'm not sure where all it's going, where Caleb writes a song about Duke Tomas and drops it on Photogram, and it goes viral:

The app popped up the Photogram account of the Duchessa's younger brother, Lord Milo Ansevali, secretary to the duchy. His latest post was a video titled Reaction To 'Punching Down' by Caleb Canto. 

Ah, shit. 

Caleb sighed and clicked on it.

Ansevali had an earbud in one ear, and a mug of steaming tea in one hand, the teabag's tag dangling visibly. As the intro to Caleb's latest song came on over the video, he nodded his head in time, then set down the mug to start shoulder-dancing to it; when Caleb hit the first chorus, where the song got pretty intense pretty quickly, the camera began to shake wildly as Lord Milo enthusiastically rocked out. Caleb watched, fascinated, as one of the most powerful men in Galia began to headbang blurrily. 

The chorus came to an end and the camera went still; Ansevali, visibly breathing heavily, went still again as well, only nodding his head gently. As the song hit the line Even his kids don't want his job, he delicately lifted his mug to his mouth and sipped, and the screen went black. 

In the notes, he'd pinned a comment by the official Photogram of the Duchess of the Horse of the House of Galia, his older sister, Duchessa Ofelia. In Italian, it read How much would we need to pay Caleb Canto to move back to Galia?

Lord Milo had replied, Why pay him to move back? He's making our point for us from the Ask.

Caleb, who was not especially good at Photogram but was constantly around people who were, considered what Noah or Jerry would say if they were pretending to be him on his Photogram, as they sometimes had in the past. Then he opened the reply thread and tapped out, With affection for the Duchess from an Abdicaristo, I can't leave Askazer-Shivadlakia. My first love is the sea.

("Abdicaristo/a/e" is the term for a supporter of the political movement to democratize Galia and for Ofelia to abdicate the throne in favor of a parliamentary government. Ofelia is the head of the movement, which Caleb speculates makes life in the Palazzo Cavallo very exciting.)