#Dominion VIII

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

𝔊𝔯𝔞𝔳𝔢 - 𝔄𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔊𝔬𝔡𝔰

[fideidefenswhore]

Is it true that COA had more of a claim to the English throne than Henry or his father did?

only to C/OA stans…

[city-of-ladies]

"The most notable players in Palaiologue politics were the empresses Yolanda-Irene of Montferrat and Anna of Savoy, and on the whole their record is woeful: Yolanda-Irene of Montferrat, second wife of Andronikos II, was unable to comprehend the succession rights of her eldest stepson, Michael IX, and since her husband remained obstinately unmoved by her representations she flounced off with her three sons to Thessalonika where she kept a separate court for many years from 1303 to her death in 1317. From her own domain she issued her own decrees, conducted her own foreign policy and plotted against her husband with the Serbs and Catalans: in mitigation, she had seen her five-year-old daughter married off to the middle-aged Serbian lecher Milutin, and considered that her eldest son John had been married beneath him to a Byzantine aristocrat, Irene Choumnaina. She died embittered and extremely wealthy.

When Yolanda’s grandson Andronikos III died early, leaving a nine-year old son John V and no arrangements for a regent, the empress Anna of Savoy assumed the regency. In so doing she provoked a civil war with her husband’s best friend John Kantakouzenos, and devastated the empire financially, bringing it to bankruptcy and pawning the crown jewels to Venice, as well as employing Turkish mercenaries and, it appears, offering to have her son convert to the church of Rome. Gregoras specifically blames her for the civil war, though he admits that she should not be criticised too heavily since she was a woman and a foreigner. Her mismanagement was not compensated for by her later negotiations in 1351 between John VI Kantakouzenos and her son in Thessalonika, who was planning a rebellion with the help of Stephen Dushan of Serbia. In 1351 Anna too settled in Thessalonika and reigned over it as her own portion of the empire until her death in c. 1365, even minting her own coinage.

These women were powerful and domineering ladies par excellence, but with the proviso that their political influence was virtually minimal. Despite their outspokenness and love of dominion they were not successful politicians: Anna of Savoy, the only one in whose hands government was placed, was compared to a weaver’s shuttle that ripped the purple cloth of empire. But there were of course exceptions. Civil wars ensured that not all empresses were foreigners and more than one woman of Byzantine descent reached the throne and was given quasi-imperial functions by her husband. 

Theodora Doukaina Komnene Palaiologina, wife of Michael VIII, herself had imperial connections as the great-niece of John III Vatatzes, and issued acts concerning disputes over monastic properties during her husband’s reign, even addressing the emperor’s officials on occasion and confirming her husband’s decisions. Nevertheless, unlike other women of Michael’s family who went into exile over the issue, she was forced to support her husband’s policy of church union with Rome, a stance which she seems to have spent the rest of her life regretting. She was also humiliated when he wished to divorce her to marry Constance-Anna of Hohenstaufen, the widow of John III Vatatzes.

Another supportive empress consort can be seen in Irene Kantakouzene Asenina, whose martial spirit came to the fore during the civil war against Anna of Savoy and the Palaiologue ‘faction’. Irene in 1342 was put in charge of Didymoteichos by her husband John VI Kantakouzenos; she also organised the defence of Constantinople against the Genoese in April 1348 and against John Palaiologos in March 1353, being one of the very few Byzantine empresses who took command in military affairs. But like Theodora, Irene seems to have conformed to her husband’s wishes in matters of policy and agreed with his decisions concerning the exclusion of their sons from the succession and their eventual abdication in 1354.

Irene and her daughter Helena Kantakouzene, wife of John V Palaiologos, were both torn by conflicting loyalties between different family members, and Helena in particular was forced to mediate between her ineffectual husband and the ambitions of her son and grandson. She is supposed to have organised the escape of her husband and two younger sons from prison in 1379 and was promptly taken hostage with her father and two sisters by her eldest son Andronikos IV and imprisoned until 1381; her release was celebrated with popular rejoicing in the capital. According to Demetrios Kydones she was involved in political life under both her husband and son, Manuel II, but her main role was in mediating between the different members of her family.

In a final success story, the last Byzantine emperor, Constantine XI, owed his throne to his mother. The Serbian princess Helena Dragash, wife of Manuel II Palaiologos, in the last legitimating political manoeuvre by a Byzantine empress, successfully managed to keep the throne for her son Constantine and fend off the claims of his brother Demetrios. She arranged for Constantine’s proclamation as emperor in the Peloponnese and asserted her right to act as regent until his arrival in the capital from Mistra in 1449.

Despite the general lack of opportunity for them to play a role in politics, Palaiologue imperial women in the thirteenth century found outlets for their independent spirit and considerable financial resources in other ways. They were noted for their foundation or restoration of monastic establishments and for their patronage of the arts. Theodora Palaiologina restored the foundation of Constantine Lips as a convent for fifty nuns, with a small hospital for laywomen attached, as well as refounding a smaller convent of Sts Kosmas and Damian. She was also an active patron of the arts, commissioning the production of manuscripts like Theodora Raoulaina, her husband’s niece. Her typikon displays the pride she felt in her family and position, an attitude typically found amongst aristocratic women.

Clearly, like empresses prior to 1204, she had considerable wealth in her own hands both as empress and dowager. She had been granted the island of Kos as her private property by Michael, while she had also inherited land from her family and been given properties by her son Andronikos. Other women of the family also display the power of conspicuous spending: Theodora Raoulaina used her money to refound St Andrew of Crete as a convent where she pursued her scholarly interests. 

Theodora Palaiologina Angelina Kantakouzene, John Kantakouzenos’s mother, was arguably the richest woman of the period and financed Andronikos III’s bid for power in the civil war against his grandfather. Irene Choumnaina Palaiologina, in name at least an empress, who had been married to Andronikos II’s son John and widowed at sixteen, used her immense wealth, against the wishes of her parents, to rebuild the convent of Philanthropes Soter, where she championed the cause of ‘orthodoxy’ against Gregory Palamas and his hesychast followers. Helena Kantakouzene, too, wife of John V, was a patron of the arts. She had been classically educated and was the benefactor of scholars, notably of Demetrios Kydones who dedicated to her a translation of one of the works of St Augustine. 

The woman who actually holds power in this period, Anna of Savoy, does her sex little credit: like Yolanda she appears to have been both headstrong and greedy, and, still worse, incompetent. In contrast, empresses such as Irene Kantakouzene Asenina reflect the abilities of their predecessors: they were educated to be managers, possessed of great resources, patrons of art and monastic foundations, and, given the right circumstances, capable of significant political involvement in religious controversies and the running of the empire. Unfortunately they generally had to show their competence in opposition to official state positions. While they may have wished to emulate earlier regent empresses, they were not given the chance: the women who, proud of their class and family, played a public and influential part in the running of the empire belonged to an earlier age."

Byzantine Empresses: Women and Power in Byzantium AD 527-1204, Lynda Garland

[lilyswritings]

fate — xix

synopsis: Keep your head down, focus on getting through your classes, and try not to die. That had always been your plan of attack when it comes to attending Kings Dominion School of the Deadly Arts. But your life plans get thrown out the window as you find yourself growing attached to the new kid who refuses to lose his compassion and moral code, despite the ruthless curriculum and vicious social cliques he finds himself surrounded by.

author’s note: thank you all for still being here!! your passion for this series has really kept me going, and i sincerely appreciate each and every one of you who's still here. i am still following closely to the show, but as we are swiftly approaching the end of the tv show (ruh roh!) i will be making some changes. without further ado, please enjoy part nineteen!

wordcount: 2,819

part i || part ii || part iii || part iv || part v || part vi || part vii || part viii || part ix || part x || part xi || part xii || part xiii || part xiv || part xv || part xvi || part xvii || part xviii || part xix || part xx

Marcus Lopez Arguello x Reader

     The dorm room is dead silent as you gape blankly at Petra. "No. Fucking. Way." You stare in horror at your roommate, mouth hung open as you attempt to process the slew of graphic information she just threw in your face. In response to your sheer outrage, she simply shrugs, black-painted lips turning up at the corners at the aghast expression on your face.

"Ew," You gasp, eyebrows furrowing as it seeps in, your eyes darting between your roommate, the sheets on your bed, to the chair in the corner, back to your roommate. "Ew! You and... Both of them? EW!" You stand up abruptly from your bed, eyes scanning the bedding below you in panic.

Petra's eyes twinkle with delight at your reaction to her news of what had gone down during the lockdown, when Lex, Billy and her, had been mere moments away from partaking in a three-way in your very room. While it hadn't gone very far, the sheer idea of something like that happening between your three closest friends, in your room, makes your skin crawl.

"In my room?" You exclaim, still processing, and she laughs.

"It's my room too. And we didn't do anything on your side... I don't think." She shrugs again, ducking away from the pillow you hurl at her.

You point a finger at her, mouth still agape at the very idea of anything like that happening on or around your personal belongings. "Petra Katja Yolga, I swear to God, if you ever have sex on my side of the room—"

"Whatever, Mom." She sighs, flipping you a middle finger, before her expression turns sly and a smirk tugs at her lips. "Besides, I feel like if either of us are in danger of participating in activities of the coital nature in this room, it's you."

Your jaw drops, cheeks blazing at the insinuation. "Shut up." You mutter, unable to form a cohesive comeback, and your heated cheeks and lack of retort just fuel Petra's fire, causing her eyes to twinkle mischievously as she plops down on the edge of your bed.

"Oh, Marcus..." She fakes a breathy gasp, falling back into the pillows, and before she has a chance to tease you further, you whirl around and exit the room as fast as your feet can take you, eyes wide with mortification as the sound of Petra's laughter follows you down the corridor.

Speaking of... You will the flush in your face to dissipate as Marcus turns the corner at the end of the corridor, dark eyes immediately seeking you out. "Hey." He smiles softly at you, and you reciprocate, heart swooping at the mere sight of his smile. Jesus, you need to get it together.

"You okay?" He takes in your flushed expression with furrowed brows and you bite back a laugh.

"Not one bit," You shake your head, eyes wide. "Apparently my three best friends almost slept with each other last night... In my room."

"What, all of them? Like, at once?" Marcus' tone is incredulous and you nod, pleased he seems as baffled by it all as you are, but then he ruins it. "Good for them."

You frown, smacking his shoulder lightly. "No, not good for them! My friends! In my room!"

He huffs out a laugh at your outrage, and it's only them that you notice there's a tension in his expression, a hardened look in his dark eyes that gives you pause. "Hey, what's up?"

Marcus makes a face, obviously not having intended on talking about it. "It's nothing, I just... I just got out of AP Black Arts and had it out with Master Lin. It's nothing serious, though, promise." At this, he slides his hand down one of your forearms, lacing his fingers with yours and tugging you closer to him.

Your brows shoot up, cheeks heating back up at the sudden proximity as you gaze up at him through your lashes. "If the monks catch us like this..." Your words trail off as he dips his head to seal his lips to yours, the kiss causing you to forget any protest you might have once had. Before you know it. his hands are on your waist and you're gripping at the lapels of his uniform, the world beyond the two of you lost to oblivion for all you care. You can hear Petra's voice in your head, cackling, but you shove it away, relishing in the kiss.

"If you're worried about the monks," He whispers as he pulls away, dark eyes glittering with mischief. "Maybe we should go somewhere more private."

You very nearly go along with it too, the air simmering between the two of you in the darkened hallway, but you remember why you were going to seek him out in the first place, and step back to give yourself some space to think — something you have proven to be unable to do at such close proximity to him.

"You —" You brush your hands over the lapels of his uniform, straightening the creases you didn't realize you'd made. "Have a shift at the comics store, if I remember correctly." He curses immediately at the reminder, groaning, and you smirk.

"Come with me." He proposes, hand sneaking back onto your waist, and you raise your eyebrows at how bold he's become — but then an apologetic look sneaks into his features, his brown eyes widening with a plea. "Plus, you sort of need to be there, Saya wanted to call a Vegas Crew gathering."

You feel the romance dissipate from the air just like that, a crushing reminder of the psychopathic killer at large and the incredible danger you all live in swooping in to ruin the mood. "Right. Smart." You nod, running a hand through your hair, and Marcus sighs.

"I was going to go change, do you want to come wait in the room?" You raise your eyebrows at his words and he laughs, hands held up in surrender. "No funny business, I swear." You roll your eyes, but nod anyway, biting your lip at the kiss he presses to your cheek as you follow him to his room.

Before long, the two of you head to the comic store together, only waiting a little while before Saya, Billy, and Willie all show up too.

The black and white photos Saya has sprawled on the counter make you shudder, taking in the horrors of what Fuckface has done to Shabnam's house.

"Jesus," Marcus finally speaks up, voicing your thoughts. "Is that Shabnam's dad?" He holds out a photo and you grimace at the image before you.

"His mom's probably in there as well." Billy says, and your frown deepens, causing him to pat you on the back with a less-than-convincing smile of reassurance. "All the more reason we have to do this now."

"Shabnam's house is rigged with traps," Saya explains, pointing them out on the photos. "Chester has seven to eight people inside, helping him."

You pause from gnawing on your thumbnail to look up at Saya. "Are we sure he has Chico?"

"He's not bluffing," Saya sighs. "He knows everything. He has to be getting information from someone inside of King's."

"Shabnam's parents." Marcus fills in, and you nod along, brows furrowed.

"What's stopping him from just..." You swallow thickly. "Sending Chico's head to El Diablo? If he finds out that it was Maria... That we were there..." It's hard to repress the shudder that wracks your body at the mere thought of that.

Marcus' hand appears on top of yours, dark eyes seeking out yours in an attempt at reassurance. "We're gonna need some serious firepower." He sighs, turning back to the group, and you nod. "Guns, explosives—"

"Y'all must be out your damn minds." Willie's voice cuts him off, and when you look up you notice him glowering at all of you, his arms folded over his chest. His eyes meet yours, and your brows tug together, before he scoffs and turns to leave the store.

"Wait, Willie—" You go to follow him, but Marcus puts a hand on your arm and gets up, exiting the store behind his friend. As soon as they both leave, you turn back to Saya and Billy, sighing deeply and sitting in Marcus' empty chair.

"We have to talk to Maria." You say, knowing full well it isn't what Saya wants to hear, and she grimaces but doesn't argue with you. There's a long silence that follows, where all three of you are inevitably picturing the various awful ways that conversation will go, before you finally let out a deep breath.

"I'll do it." You volunteer, causing both of your friends to glance up at you sharply.

"No offence," Billy starts, glancing between you and Saya. "But I think you're probably the last person she wants to talk to right now."

"I'm well aware," You shoot him a glare. "But she has to know what's going on. And I have to try to... To fix this." You know it's probably impossible, that this might be a death wish, but you have to try. You owe it to her to try.

"Tell Marcus where I've gone, okay?" You look to Saya, and she nods, one dark eyebrow arched at your plan. "I'll fill in on the rest of this later, but... I have to do this."

When you arrive back at King's, you forge a note from Juan to Maria, asking her to meet in the girl's bathroom, before slipping it under her door and running to the bathroom to lie in wait.

You are well aware that this might be the stupidest thing you've ever done, but you have run completely out of other options. As you sit in the darkened girls bathroom, you take a moment to fully wonder where the fuck your life went so wrong that you are now in a bathroom, preparing to trap the leader of the Soto Vatos and el Alma del Diablo's pet assassin, in order to have a heart-to-heart.

You are not given enough time to fully delve into those thoughts, thankfully, as the door begins to creak open and you spy Maria's shoes from the crack under the door.

"Meeting in the girl's bathroom is a new low, Juan." Maria calls out in Spanish, and you grimace as you swing the door shut and plant yourself in front of it, revealing your ruse to her.

She wheels around with her fan poised in front of her, expression morphing from one of surprise into rageful apprehension, and you throw your hands up placatingly.

"I know how this looks, and I'm sorry, I just really need you to hear me out and I knew you would never agree to talk with me." Your words tumble into each other in their haste to leave your mouth, and you sigh deeply before oh-so-slowly pulling open your blazer to show her the lack of knives tucked into the lining.

Coming unarmed to this might have been a suicidal move, but you know it's the only way to get her to listen to you.

Her dark eyes narrow, scanning your body, and you nod. "None in the boots, either." You answer before she even gets the chance to ask, slowly rolling your ankle around to show off the lack of metallic glinting.

"We need to talk." It's a cheeky thing to say as you stand in between her and the only exit, but you need her to agree not to kill you before you launch into anything — and you would really like it if this continued as a semi-normal conversation between two teenage friends, despite it all.

Maria doesn't lower her fan, but she doesn't run to attack you, either, so you take a deep breath and launch into it. "We've been doing reconnaissance on Fuckface, and it looks like he's holing up at Shabnam's house. We need to deal with him before he decides to send Chico's head to El Alma, and we need your help."

Her eyes widen as you talk, obviously as displeased by this update as you were, and you swallow thickly. "We need you, Maria. We have to end this. You killed Chico to save Marcus... Now we have to kill Chester to do the same. And save the rest of us, while we're at it."

Bringing up Marcus is a dicey move, and her eyes narrow at his name, but she finally tucks her fan away and sighs. "When?" She asks, and you sigh in relief, lowering your hands.

"We don't know. Soon. Maybe as soon as tomorrow. We didn't come up with a full plan before I left, but... It has to be now." The word 'we' obviously holds the implications of the Vegas Crew, and you watch her expression twinge at the mention of the group.

"Fine. I'll help." She says, eyes still glued to the ground. "Send a message when you make the plan." She moves to leave the bathroom, but you hold your position blocking the door, and her eyes narrow.

"Move." She orders, dark eyes narrowed, and you shake your head slowly, summoning the courage to say the next words.

"I'm sorry."

Your words hang heavy in the silence of the bathroom, and her expression morphs into one of heartbroken anger, but you push through. "I'm so sorry, Maria. It was never meant to happen like this, I didn't want—"

You're embarrassed by the sting of hot tears that press behind your eyelids, and you watch her drop her gaze to the ground, fists clenched tightly as she folds her arms across her chest.

"My heart has belonged to him since that first night on the roof, Maria. You have to know that." You plead, stoic in your efforts for her to comprehend how out of control you've felt this whole time. "With everything that we've been through, you have to understand that I didn't choose this. It just... Happened."

Her eyes never leave the ground, folded arms pressing tighter against her chest as she scuffs the toe of her shoe against the floor. "I know." She whispers, and you take a breath, watching her expression.

The dimly lit room is filled with tension, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. You've just ripped the curtains back and bared your soul to Maria, and now the ball remains firmly in her court. Her silence hangs in the room, stifling any hope for reconciliation.

Seconds turn to minutes as you both stand there, locked in a moment of profound uncertainty. Maria's hair falls over her face, obscuring her eyes as she continues to avoid your gaze. Her jaw tightens, and you can almost hear the gears turning in her mind, weighing the years of shared secrets and experiences against this revelation.

Finally, she breaks the silence with a heavy sigh. "I know," Maria repeats, her voice tinged with bitterness and resentment. "I've always known. I'm not an idiot. I see it in the way you look at him, the way you two..." She sighs again, dark eyes boring holes into the linoleum tile below her. Her words are sharp, filled with a sense of betrayal.

You nod, the weight of your confession still bearing down on you. "But I never wanted it to be like this, Maria. I never wanted to hurt you."

Maria finally looks up, her eyes meeting yours with a cold, unyielding glare. "You should have thought about that before you let it happen," she hisses. "I can't believe you would let me... You let me get my heart broken."

You take a step closer to her, reaching out to gently touch her arm, but she pulls away, her expression hardening. "Maria..." Your chest feels wounded, the sharpness in her eyes driving daggers into your heart. "I love you. I always will. But I can't change how I feel about him." Hot tears begin to fill your eyes as you shake your head fervently. "I wish I could."

Those words ring the truest for the both of you, and you both know it. Your shared love for this boy has caused boundless issues, invited danger and darkness into your lives, and yet as the bond between the two of you breaks in front of your eyes, you can share in the same hopeless adoration of the same idiotic man.

Tears well up in Maria's eyes, and this time, she lets them flow freely. "That isn't enough..." she says, her voice trembling with anger. "I need time. I need to figure this out."

You nod, feeling the weight of her disappointment pressing down on you, and she spares you one last cold glance before she swipes the tears from her face and storms out of the bathroom. The future is uncertain, but it seems clear to you now that your friendship has been irreparably damaged.

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 40: The Master, The Master, and The Master

oh my fucking gods how is it part 40 already....here have a lot of Master stuff to celebrate lol

The Delgado Master once allied himself with the Nurazh, a mind parasite. The could simultaneously control thousands of minds but ended up betrayed the Master because of course they did. While the Third Doctor was fighting the Nurazh, they fell off the roof of the building, causing him to begin to regenerate into his Fourth self. Trying to control the Doctor while he was technically two minds killed the Nurazh but not before they incidentally healed the Third Doctor of all his wounds, preventing his further regeneration. (Short story: The Touch of the Nurazh)

The Reborn Master was the one to disfigure the Decayed Master while working with the Cult of the Heretic. This cult then betrayed him by doing a body swap between the Reborn Master and the Decayed Master. (Audio: The Two Masters)

Missy considers the hijacking of the Concorde to be one of her least successful plans ever. (Audio: Two Monks, One Mistress)

After the Cheetah Planet ceased to exist, the Master was immediately deposited in the Doctor’s TARDIS because it was a piece of Gallifrey on Earth. He immediately stole the Identity Recognition Module and hijacked the TARDIS, meaning that the Seventh Doctor and Ace could only wait to see where the Master was planning on taking them. (Short story: How did this creep get in here, Professor?)

Scissor bugs are a common Gallifreyan pest. One time, when the Master was just a student, he watched happily as thousands of males tried to mate with a single queen, only to die because he had put the queen in a jelly jar. (Short story: The Duke of Dominoes)

In the same story, while scheming, the Delgado Master was gathering shards of the Godhead, a source of unlimited power, in Chicago. During this time, he gets mugged, works in a soup kitchen for several days, is betrayed by his allies, is chased by a giant statue of Abraham Lincoln, and is buried under building rubble. The Fourth Doctor and Sarah Jane then materialize in the TARDIS on top of him, take some of his stuff, and leave. (Short story: The Duke of Dominoes)

The Reborn Master once impersonated the Doctor to infiltrate UNIT. The actual impersonation bit was actually successful. (Audio: Dominion)

Teddy Sparkles appeared to be wish granting magical teddy bear, but he could alter timelines and the whole universe. Thus, Missy kidnapped him in an attempt to take over Earth. (Short story: Teddy Sparkles Must Die!)

The Delgado Master once kidnapped a pop group and used the power of music to hypnotize anyone who listened. (Short story: Smash Hit)

Julius Caesar once took the Tremas Master prisoner after he tried to poison him. Ace asked the Seventh Doctor what will become of the Master, and the Doctor is confident that his old friend would be back one day. And he wasn't wrong either - the Master did one day come back to rekindle their friendship but as Missy instead. (Comic: Crossing the Rubicon)

While in 49 BCE, the Doctor went by Septimus Doctus, which surprised the Tremas Master as he had expected the Doctor to use Theta Sigma. (Comic: Crossing the Rubicon)

While the Monk was disguised as Henry VIII, Missy agreed to marry him to call his bluff. (Audio: Divorced, Beheaded, Regenerated)

While in the body of a Trakenite, the Master still possessed a binary vascular system. (Short story: A Master of Disguise)

In an aborted timeline, the final form the Master would take would be an entropy wave. (Audio: Masterful)

Also in this same aborted timeline, the Saxon Master killed the Thirteenth Doctor, throwing her into the heart of a star. He then invited many of his past selves - the Young Master, the Decayed Master, the Bruce Master, the Reborn Master, and the War Master to celebrate. Kamelion was there disguised as the Tremas Master, and when they tried to bring in the Delgado Master, they accidentally brought in Jo Grant instead. Missy also party-crashed, much to the Saxon Master's chagrin. (Audio: Masterful)

When the Thirteenth Doctor implied to Missy that she had met a future incarnation of the Master who was once again male presenting, Missy was horrified. (Novel: The Wonderful Doctor of Oz)

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[scotianostra]

On May 28th 1503 Papal Bull was signed by Pope Alexander VI confirming the marriage of King James IV and Margaret Tudor and the “Treaty of Perpetual Peace” between Scotland and England.Like most treaties it didn't last and just over 10 years.The treaty was a three party pact between Henry VII of England, James IV of Scots and Pope Alexander VI, Rodrigo Borgia. It was binding not only on the kings who signed it, but also on their successors in perpetuity. It provided that England would not make war on Scotland, Scotland would not attack England and that the Pope would take extreme action, including excommunication, on any king who broke the treaty. The treaty was to be solemnised by the marriage of James to Henry’s daughter, Margaret.It was hoped that years of war between the two countries would now cease. Henry, the first Tudor king, needed stability in his kingdom, as he feared an uprising by the Yorkist supporters. He had good reason to fear an invasion as he had gained the throne himself by launching an invasion and killing Richard III in battle.James too feared an uprising at home. He had gained the throne by supporting a group of dissident nobles, who had captured the king, James’ father James III of Scots, as an English army was invading and tried to force him to abdicate. In 1488, the rebels had fought the battle of Sauchiburn against James III, both sides flying the Scottish flag of the Lion Rampant, and defeated and killed him. James IV was then crowned at Scone but when he discovered that he had been used by the rebels to eradicate the king his father, he did penance by wearing an iron chain around his waist for the rest of his life.James took advantage of the peace between the kingdoms to stabilise his realm. He subdued the overbearing Lord of the Isles and gained full dominion over the Western Isles. He built a small but impressive navy, patronised literature, introduced compulsory education and founded King’s College, Aberdeen, now part of Aberdeen University, and the Edinburgh College of Surgeons.When Henry VIII succeeded to the throne of England, the treaty continued to work well. The relationship between the kings was not amicable but they ignored each other and peace was maintained. In 1513, Henry, fondly imagining that the treaty would protect him from invasion from the north, invaded France. James was tempted. He could win some territory, in particular Berwick-on-Tweed, which he considered to be his but was occupied by England. James crossed the Tweed and after some military success was met by the Earl of Surrey at Flodden Field. In the battle that followed, the Scots suffered their heaviest defeat ever. They lost twenty-eight Nobles, fifty Knights and ten thousand foot soldiers. Worst of all, James himself was killed in battle and his body carried away to London.James was excommunicated, under the terms of the treaty, and therefore could not be buried in consecrated ground. Henry had the body placed in a monastery at Sheen, Surrey, and thought to ask the pope for permission to have James properly buried in due course. Later, Henry fell out with the pope, dissolved the monasteries and James’ body was forgotten and vanished. The treaty too was forgotten.

[probablybadquirkideas]

Quirk: Fool

Effect: This Quirk's holder may randomly mutate into one of twenty-one other effects:

Effect I: The Quirk holder gains affinity for the four elements. The use of one element weakens the other three, so balance is key.

Effect II: The Quirk holder choses one fact they are aware of - until the Fool reactivates, no one else may speak of this secret.

Effect III: The Quirk holder accelerates the growth and seeding of all plant matter, including the creation of fruit.

Effect IV: The Quirk holder inflicts their dominion on others, sapping their will to fight. This is based on the opponent's own ego - weaker wills are unable to fight back.

Effect V: The Quirk holder passively obtains information they are otherwise unaware of. The usefulness of the knowledge... Varies.

Effect VI: The Quirk holder becomes aware of the bonds between others. This can mean friendships, romances, rivalries, familial bonds... All sorts.

Effect VII: The Quirk holder selects one goal. Once that goal is accomplished, the Fool reactivates. If the Quirk holder were to perish in pursuit of this goal: revive instantly, unharmed, and the Fool reactivates.

Effect VIII: The Quirk holder places into effect one universal rule. The rule will then reset when the Fool reactivates.

Effect IX: The Quirk holder alone may access a room, hidden in the border formed by the corners of walls. This room has basic amenities, such as a bed and running water, but no windows or timekeeping devices. No one other than the Quirk holder may enter.

Effect X: The Quirk holder can manipulate the future effect of a single action. For this to work, a "cause" must be known. Once completed, the Fool will reactivate.

Effect XI: The Quirk holder gains boundless physical strength, as well as an unshakeable moral compass to compensate and regulate.

Effect XII: When this effect is activated, time will stop. The only thing unfrozen is the Quirk holder's own perception. When time resumes, the Fool will reactivate.

Effect XIII: The Quirk holder has the ability to manipulate and shape forms like putty, including themselves. Unlike most other effects, the changes are permanent.

Effect XIV: The Quirk holder becomes attuned to the natural flow of energy within the earth, and can heal as well as harm with it. An imbalance of positive and negative will force a reactivation of the Fool, however.

Effect XV: The Quirk holder may inflict the effects of drug withdrawal on opponents: irritability, thirst, mania, hunger, confusion, paranoia, etc. Wield responsibly.

Effect XVI: A natural disaster shall strike the exact location of the Quirk holder.

Effect XVII: The Quirk holder is protected from disaster. This could be seen as "good luck", but others may consider it "a breather".

Effect XVIII: The Quirk holder can project their worst fears into reality. This construct is also capable of reflecting the fears of those that gaze upon it - however, it is merely an illusion.

Effect XVIX: The Quirk holder radiates light. Those in the light of the Quirk holder will gain a weak physical boost.

Effect XX: The Quirk holder can refine a material into its base components: a book may revert to water and wood pulp, steel to iron ore and other minerals, etc. This will not work on people.

Effect XXI: The Quirk holder may move through space. It is, in effect, teleportation, except the holder is not disappearing from one spot and appearing in another location, but rather, moving the entire universe around themselves until they've reached their destination.

[george-the-good]

The Sunday Pictorial - May 18, 1947

By a Special Contributor to the ‘Sunday Pictorial’

The tumult and the shouting dies. But for the King there can be no relaxation. When the cheering crowds disperse and go home, he has a tedious exacting job to do at his desk.

Throughout Britain this week the talk has been of our King and Queen. When they left for South Africa they were envied their promise of sunshine and non-austerity food.

Then, day after day, we heard of them giving a reception here, auditions there... It was work, hard work.

And now they are back… to work again in surroundings so familiar that they lack the excitement and glamour of the young Dominion.

Passers-by, looking up at the Royal Standard floating above Buckingham Palace, know that the King is back in London and try to imagine what he is doing. But all that emerges from behind those grey stone walls is a dull, factual Court Circular, with its list of people received, Privy Councils held, and ladies and gentlemen in attendance.

Now let’s go through the tall, double glass doors of the Privy Purse, the ‘business’ entrance of the Palace, on your right as you face it from the Mall, and see how the King’s day is planned, how the head of the Empire does his work.

In general control of the King’s official activities is his private secretary, holder of an office that has grown in importance greatly during the past three reigns until today it is often referred to as that of the ‘Sovereign’s Personal Prime Minister.’

The present private secretary is sparsely built, quizzical Sir Alan Lascelles, who holds the office not because he is first cousin to the Earl of Harewood, the King’s brother-in-law, but because of his long record as a servant of the Crown. He was assistant private secretary to the Duke of Windsor when he was Prince of Wales, private secretary to the Governor-General of Canada, and assistant private secretary to George V, Edward VIII and George VI.

Always an early riser, Sir Alan walks over from his house at St. James’s - which he has rent free as part of his salary - just after nine, and is firmly seated at his desk, with a good idea of the news of the day, by nine-thirty. At any moment after that a bell may ring, and an old-fashioned card indicator on the wall falls, showing the words ‘The King.’

Then Sir Alan, known to the King and Queen and to everyone else at the palace as Tommy, ‘goes up’ to the King. Those words are literally as well as constitutionally true, for the King’s business room - he does not call it his study - is on the first floor.

With the King, Tommy will go through the latest dispatches and messages from our Ambassadors abroad, reports from Whitehall, minutes from various Government departments, ‘submissions’ from the Prime Minister and from the Premiers of the Dominions, each of whom has the right of direct approach to the King.

Tommy knows more of what is going on all over the Empire and the world than anyone else, except the King. That’s part of his job.

It is his task to advise the King on every kind of problem, from whether he should accept an invitation to open an agricultural show, to what he should say in a Christmas broadcast, or whether and how he should intervene in some major crisis in public affairs.

Under Sir Alan are two assistant private secretaries, who take on the routine work, fixing details of programmes for provincial visits by the King and Queen, arranging for audiences and so on.

Part of their task is to furnish a short ‘aide-memoire’ for the King about everyone whom he receives in audience. The King has a really remarkable memory for faces and names, but he cannot be expected to remember details of each man’s career, of the interests and attainments of everyone he meets.

Another of their responsibilities is to furnish rough outline material for the King’s speeches, material which the King himself will later review and arrange.

Altogether there are about forty-five active members of the Royal Household in daily attendance at the Palace, not counting another fifty or more extra equerries, ushers, chaplains and holders of political appointments to the Household. They are the men - and women - who comprise the Court of St. James’s, the wheels in the smooth-running machine of British monarchy.

Today the Palace is run not as a great gentleman’s house, with everything in profusion regardless of cost, and kindly but not over-efficient amateurs holding important jobs, but on strict business lines.

In any business house it is true that if the boss is slack or unpunctual, the rest of the staff are likely to fall off in efficiency. That is true at the Palace as well, and the ‘boss’ - the King - is as hard working, as early rising as anyone on his staff.

Seven-thirty is his normal hour for rising, and he has his simple breakfast alone - bacon is his favourite dish, but the ration does not always run to it. Immediately afterwards he walks into his ‘business room,’ unlocks the red-leather dispatch boxes which have been brought in by the Page of the Presence - an old and trusted Palace servant - and settles down to read.

His papers may include a secret report from a British ambassador on the state of war-preparedness in the country to which he is accredited, and a memorandum on the miners’ attitude to nationalisation of the coalfields, as well as half a dozen other important matters. All of these the King reads and digests.

Presently he rings for his secretary, and the long morning procession begins, to end before lunch with perhaps a new ambassador coming to present his ‘letters of credence’ or a new bishop to do homage on bended knee before the secular head of the Established Church, or an Empire statesman or an outgoing Governor-General to have audience and stay to lunch.

Almost every day the King and Queen lunch together, usually with Princess Elizabeth at table as well, and over lunch the family discuss their plans, arrange theatre parties or dances, talk over the coming week-end at Royal Lodge, and chat of the everyday familiar things that are part of any family’s life.

If there are important State guests at luncheon, the talk is naturally on a more serious plane, and Elizabeth, who meets as many of the important Palace visitors as possible, as part of her training, joins in the conversation.

After luncheon, the King likes to take a short stroll in the Palace gardens, sometimes with Elizabeth and her Corgi dog, sometimes alone. Then it is back to his desk till tea time.

Tea is another family gathering, after which, there is usually a final audience the King must give to the Prime Minister, the Foreign Secretary, or some other highly placed member of his Government.

Between then and dinner, the King sits at his desk tidying up the odds and ends left over during the day: for he is a man with a tidy mind, as befits a former naval officer, and he cannot bear leaving over things unfinished till the next day.

Often it is seven-thirty before he is finished - and that means that one or other of the secretaries, if not all three, is still on duty - and the royal dinner is served at eight.

There is just time to bath and dress - the King nearly always wears a dinner jacket and black tie - before he joins the Queen and the Princesses for what they all regard as the pleasantest part of the day.

In armchairs, the King and Queen and their daughters like to sit, the King reading a light book for relaxation, or looking at a sporting magazine, the Queen knitting or doing embroidery, and the Princesses reading or studying.

Even then, the King is not off duty. At any moment there may be a telephone call from Whitehall, a Government messenger may come to the Palace with urgent dispatches which the King must see at once.

Then the private line to Tommy’s house over at St. James’s comes into action, and if the matter is one of real gravity, the King’s secretary will leave his own home and rejoin his master for a conference that may go on till midnight.

For being the King-Emperor is a full-time job. He is, indeed, the servant of his own subjects and he is ready always to turn from his own recreations to the duty which is not of his own choice, but which he has accepted at all times with unflagging zeal.

[catherinesboleyn]

The Six Wives of Henry VIII from least to most favorite (as voted by you guys)

2ND PLACE - Catherine of Aragon

“Sir, I beseech you for all the love that hath been between us, and for the love of God, let me have justice. Take of me some pity and compassion, for I am a poor woman, and a stranger born out of your dominion. I have here no assured friends, and much less impartial counsel…

Alas! Sir, wherein have I offended you, or what occasion of displeasure have I deserved?… I have been to you a true, humble and obedient wife, ever comfortable to your will and pleasure, that never said or did any thing to the contrary thereof, being always well pleased and contented with all things wherein you had any delight or dalliance, whether it were in little or much. I never grudged in word or countenance, or showed a visage or spark of discontent. I loved all those whom ye loved, only for your sake, whether I had cause or no, and whether they were my friends or enemies. This twenty years or more I have been your true wife and by me ye have had divers children, although it hath pleased God to call them out of this world, which hath been no default in me…

When ye had me at first, I take God to my judge, I was a true maid, without touch of man. And whether it be true or no, I put it to your conscience. If there be any just cause by the law that ye can allege against me either of dishonesty or any other impediment to banish and put me from you, I am well content to depart to my great shame and dishonour. And if there be none, then here, I most lowly beseech you, let me remain in my former estate… Therefore, I most humbly require you, in the way of charity and for the love of God – who is the just judge – to spare me the extremity of this new court, until I may be advised what way and order my friends in Spain will advise me to take. And if ye will not extend to me so much impartial favour, your pleasure then be fulfilled, and to God I commit my cause!” - Catherine of Aragon, June 21st 1529 at Blackfriars

[queenmarytudor]

Mary I's Fight For The Throne

11th July - Mary decides to move

Mary receives a reply from the Privy Council to her letter:

Madame, we have received your letter the ix of this instant declaring your supposed title which you judge yourself to have: the Imperial Crown of this Realm and all the domains thereunto belonging. Our answer whereof is to advise your forasmuch as our Sovereign Lady Queen Jane is after the death of our Sovereign Lord King Edward VI, a prince of most noble memory, invested and possessed with right and just title in the Imperial Crown of this Realm, not only by good order of old ancient laws of this realm, but also by your late Sovereign Lord’s letters patent signed with his own hand and sealed with the Great Seal of England in the presence of the most part of the nobles and councillors, judges, and divers other grown and sage persons assenting and subscribing unto the same. We must therefore (and of most duty and right we ought to) profess and declare unto you that forasmuch as divers divorces made between the King of most noble memory Henry VIII and the Lady Katherine your mother was necessary to be had, both by the everlasting law of God as also by the laws and by the most part of the notable and learned universities of Christendom and confirmed also by the divers acts of parliament removing it, therefore and thereby you made illegitimate and inheritable to the Imperial Crown of this Realm and the dominions and possessions of the same. You will upon just consideration thereof and of divers other causes lawful to be alleged for the same, and for the just inheritance of the right, and goodly orders taken by the late King our Sovereign Lord Edward VI, and agreed unto by the noble and great personages aforesaid, cease by your pretence to vex and molest any of our Sovereign lady Queen Jane’s subjects, drawing them from the true faith and allegiance unto Her Grace. Assuring that if you will for respect show yourself quiet and obedient as you ought, you shall find us all and several [ready] to do you any service that we, with duty, may be glad with you to preserve the common state of this Realm, wherein you may otherwise be grievous unto us to yourself and to them. And thus we bid you most heartily well to fare, from the Tower of London the IX *July. Your ladyship’s loving friends, showing yourself an obedient subject. 1 *misdated, should be the Xth

After conferring with important local magnates including Lord Thomas Wentworth, Sir Thomas Cornwallis, Sherriff of Norfolk and Suffolk, proclaims Queen Jane in Ipswich marketplace. Soon after, Mary's servant Thomas Poley arrives and reads out her proclamation:

"Know ye all the good subjects of this realm that your most noble Prince, your sovereign Lord and King, Edward the VI, is upon Thursday last, being the 6th of July, departed this world to God’s mercy. And that now the most excellent princess his sister Mary, by the grace of God is Queen of England and Ireland, and very owner of the crown, government, and title of England and Ireland, and all things thereunto belonging, to God’s glory, the honour of the realm of England, and all your comforts. And her Highness has not fled this her realm, nor intends to do, as is most untruly surmised." 2

He leaves hurriedly, "taking refuge in flight." 3, for fear that he will come to blows with the leading men gathered to support Jane.

In Norwich, they refuse to proclaim Mary queen because they are "not certain of the king's death" 4, while in Great Yarmouth, the town council meet to discuss the situation after having visited Mary. They adjourn their meeting until the next day “to make a plan and definite agreement whether the Lady Mary her grace shall be proclaimed Queen of England”. 5

Back at Kenninghall, Sir Richard Southwell, who had recently helped Mary with the matter of her stolen hawks, arrives with money, provisions, and armed men to "make the most humble submission that he could to the queen, repeatedly recalling in his petition the many favours heaped on him by Henry VIII." 6

Southwell's arrival, with "reinforcements of men, a store of provisions and moreover money, the sinews of war, as they call it, not to mention his own skill in counsel and long experience" 7 prompts Mary to make plans to move her household from Kenninghall.

The decision is made to go to Framlingham, and Mary sends a messenger to the Imperial ambassadors in London informing them. She also begs for further aid, ordering the messenger to tell the men she sees "destruction hanging over her" 8 unless she receives help from the Emperor.

Meanwhile...

Jane writes to the Marquis of Northampton, lieutenant of Surrey, and the sheriffs and chief justices of the peace in that county "Right trusty and right well beloved, we greet you well, advertising the same that whereas it hath pleased almighty God to call to his mercy out of this life our dearest cousin the King, your late sovereign lord, by reason whereof and such ordinances as the said late King did establish in his life time for the security and wealth of this Realm, we are entered into our rightful possession of this kingdom, as by the last will of our said dearest cousin our late progenitor, and other several instruments to that effect, signed with his own hand and sealed with the great seal of this realm in his own presence. Whereunto the nobles of this realm for the most part and all our council and Judges, with the Mayor and Aldermen of our City of London, and divers other grave personages of this our realm of England, have also subscribed their names as by the same will and instrument it may more evidently and plainly appear. We therefore do you to understand, that by the ordinance and sufferance of the heavenly Lord, and by assent and consent of our said nobles and councillors, and others before specified, we do this day make our entry into our Tower of London as rightful Queen of this realm, and have accordingly set forth our proclamations to all our loving subjects, giving them thereby to understand their duties and allegiance which they now of right owe unto us, as more amply by the same you shall briefly perceive and understand, nothing doubting right trusty and right well beloved cousin, but that you will endeavour yourself in all things to the uttermost of your power not only to defend our just title but also assist us in our rightful possession of this kingdom, and to disturb, repel, and resist the feigned and untrue claim of the lady Mary, bastard daughter to our great uncle Henry the eight of famous memory. Wherein as you shall do that which to your honour, truth, and duty appertain, so shall we remember the same unto you and yours accordingly. And our further pleasure is that you shall continue, do, and execute every thing and things as our lieutenant within all places according to the tenor of the commission, addressed unto you from our late cousin King Edward the vi, in such and like sort as if the same had been, as we mind shortly it shall be, renewed and by us confirmed under our great seal unto you. Given under our Signet at our Tower of London on the xi of July the first year of our reign." 9

Gilbert Potter, the young man who said Mary had the right title is set on the pillory where both his ears are cut off. In the evening, his master drowns. 10

Richard Grafton, the royal printer, issues a pamphlet of the town criers announcement yesterday, reiterating Mary and Elizabeth are "proved illegitimate and born unlawful and clearly discharged from the crown and from all manner of possessions of the king their father Henry the VIII." 11

The Imperial ambassadors report Jane will not be "crowned for a fortnight or more." 12

A man from Lowestoft comes aboard The Greyhound asking how Captain Grice and the rest of the crew fare. They "demand if they could with their hearts serve Queen Mary [...] unto whom every one of the company answered and said they would live and die with her grace." 13 Grice changes out of his livery and goes abroad with the man into Lowestoft, asking what news there is. Hearing that the country is up in rebellion, he is then questioned if he is a servant of the Duke of Northumberland. He denies it, but the sailors with him reveal he is. He is then “by the townsmen taken as an offender." 14

Sources:

1. The Reign of Mary I, Robert Tittler

2. The History and Antiquities of Hengrave, in Suffolk

3. Vita Mariae Angliae Reginae of Robert Wingfield

4. Chronicle of Queen Jane and Queen Mary

5. Great Yarmouth under Queen Mary

6. Vita Mariae Angliae Reginae of Robert Wingfield

7. Vita Mariae Angliae Reginae of Robert Wingfield

8. Spanish State Papers, 14th July 1553

9. The Loseley Manuscripts

10. Diary of Henry Machyn, July 1553

11. The Chronicle of the Grey Friars: Jane

12. Spanish State Papers, 11th July 1553

13. The Navy of Edward VI and Mary I

14. The Navy of Edward VI and Mary I

[catalinadearagonsblog]

Katherine of Aragon & Isabella of Austria

In the summer of 1523, Christian II, the deposed King of Denmark, arrived in England with his wife, Isabella of Austria. Christian and Isabella had been exiled from their own dominions and together with their three children sought refuge at the court of Margaret of Austria, Isabella’s paternal aunt. Christian requested to see Henry VIII in an attempt to secure his backing in the succession war. They were united by family ties since Isabella of Austria was Katherine of Aragon’s niece. They landed at Dover on 15 June 1523 and were “nobly received by the earl of Devonshire, and the bishops of Exeter, and Rochester, and diverse knights and esquires, and so brought to Greenwich: where the King and Queen, standing under their cloths of estate, received [them] in the great hall of Greenwich”. Chronicler Edward Hall was not impressed with their entourage “poor and evil apparelled” .

On 3 July 1523, Cardinal Wolsey wrote that the royal couple was “lodged and feasted at Greenwich, and are now at Bath Place at the King’s costs”. Henry VIII was eager to help Christian and Isabella return to their country, writing to Charles V, Isabella’s brother, that it “would be advisable if the Emperor would join with himself in sending fit persons to Denmark to settle this dispute”. The exiled royals stayed in England for twenty-two days and then returned to Margaret of Austria’s court.

Sylvia Barbara Soberton, The Forgotten Tudor Women: Gertrude Courtenay. Wife and Mother of the last Plantagenets

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

𝔊𝔯𝔞𝔳𝔢 - 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥

[fideidefenswhore]

An interdict on England was a serious possibility in the 1530s [...] but the context of Henry's crisis was the fragmentation of humanism, the advent of the Reformation, a crescendo of anticlericalism at the inns of court, Anne Boleyn's support for reform, and the formation of court factions sustained by politico-religous ideology after Wolsey's removal. It was these catalysts that fused Henry VIII's interest in 'imperial' kingship with his demand for a divorce: the outcome was a political and ecclesiastical revolution which, thanks to his second chief minister, Thomas Cromwell, Henry enforced throughout his dominions.

Tudor England, John Guy

[natequarter]

it is kinda funny that histories of tudor england tend to obscure any country outside of england, france, and the habsburg dominions (for want of a better term) because this casually elides the fact that, whilst henry viii was trying to annul his marriage to his first wife, manuel i of portugal was married to his wife's niece... and before that manuel had twice been married to katherine of aragon's sisters, who were thus his third wife's aunts. the kicker? the first marriage came right off the bat of katherine's sister being widowed... BY MANUEL'S COUSIN

[lilyswritings]

fate — xviii

synopsis: Keep your head down, focus on getting through your classes, and try not to die. That had always been your plan of attack when it comes to attending Kings Dominion School of the Deadly Arts. But your life plans get thrown out the window as you find yourself growing attached to the new kid who refuses to lose his compassion and moral code, despite the ruthless curriculum and vicious social cliques he finds himself surrounded by.

author’s note: okay, here’s the next bit! in truth, i wrote the cafeteria scene ages and ages ago and i’m very happy with it, so i’m glad you guys can finally read it! a little bit of angst and action, a little bit of romance... what more could you want. ;) enjoy!!

wordcount: 3,972

part i || part ii || part iii || part iv || part v || part vi || part vii || part viii || part ix || part x || part xi || part xii || part xiii || part xiv || part xv || part xvi || part xvii || part xviii || part xix

Marcus Lopez Arguello x Reader

     Lockdowns at the Academy of the Deadly Arts are rare and very intense, demanding obedience in their strictness, and there is no getting out of this one. You groan against the door, smacking your palm one last time against the wood and resting your forehead on it in defeat.

     When you turn around, you realize you’ve been pushed into a dorm with two Kuroki students, both of whom are glaring at you from their beds. You think you recognize one of them from your Poisons class — Hana, you think her name is? — and offer her an awkward nod. She raises an eyebrow but nods back, and you breathe out in relief, aware that the only reason you’re not in danger right now is because they’ve seen you with Saya before.

     You take a moment to thank whatever heavenly forces that be that you didn’t end up in a dorm with the Soto Vatos — especially Maria — and sit down on the floor in the corner of the dorm as your two temporary roommates begin to talk in rapidfire Japanese, no doubt talking about you. You grimace and fish one of your butterfly knives out of your boot, practicing flips with it to pass the time.

     After what seems like an insufferably long period of tense silence, you hear Madam Gao in the hallway announcing lunch. “You will eat in shifts,” She orders, and you lean closer to the door to hear her better. “Your groups will have five minutes to gather your food. If you utter a word I’ll have your tongue. If you so much as brush past another student, I’ll take your hand.”

     You hear the sound of a key turning in the lock, and you scramble to your feet. The door swings open to reveal a Monk, and beyond him, Madam Gao. Her stony gaze falls onto you and she lifts a pristine eyebrow, and you attempt to suppress the shiver that racks your body at the sight of her. Your shoulder wound throbs again at the memory of your time spent with her, and you quickly drop your gaze to the floor.

     The two Kuroki students file out of the room first and you follow all the way to the cafeteria — freezing when you spot Maria and Juan not too far ahead of you. You glance behind you nervously only to find Riku, and behind her, Saya. 

      You have just found yourself sandwiched in between two of your closest friends who both want to murder each other — and one wants to murder you, too. Saya catches your eyes and shakes her head at you, and it’s then that you notice the shiv clutched in her palm.

     Oh, shit. You shake your head back at her, in turn, but Riku steps into your line of vision with a glare before turning her back to you. This cannot be happening right now, you don’t have time for a fucking gang war right now. The Monks are watching, Madam Gao is already eager to have your head, and if you step out of line, you’re giving her an excuse to round up all of you and send you back to the interrogation room.

     You try to step out in front of Saya as she begins moving up the line but Riku kicks you in the ankle, and you whirl around to glare at her. She has no idea the shitstorm that is about to rain down on you all.

     You duck your head, your brain screaming at you to just mind your business and not get in the middle of this, but you cannot watch your friends kill each other. Fuck. You curse mentally, and then whistle loudly, making Maria turn around — and spot Saya advancing on her.

     Saya still tries to attack, but having lost her advantage, Juan dodges immediately and knocks the shiv out of her hand, and Maria glances between her and you, slowly seeming to piece something together. You realize suddenly that Saya was going to attack Juan, not Maria, and your heart sinks.

     Saya looks at you with betrayal in her eyes, and then turns to try and attack Juan again, but Maria pushes her to the side and turns to look at you. The look of rage on her face tells you that the story in her head is not the one where you are trying to save her life.

     Oh shit.

    “Maria, wait—!” You attempt before ducking as she lunges at you, dark eyes narrowed.

    “I can’t fucking believe you!”

    “I was trying to warn you!”

    “Warn me? Or distract me?” She accuses.

    “I’m sorry! I didn’t want—” You hold up a plastic tray as her hair pin arcs downwards in an attempt to protect yourself, but the blade stabs right through it, forcing you to toss the two halves apart and try to back up. “I didn’t want you to get hurt!”

    “Hurt? Oh, we’re well past that, boyfriend stealer!” She kicks a leg out, attempting to knock you off balance, but you dodge and continue to back up — until your back collides with a wall.

    “Please, you know it’s not —” You gasp, ducking just in time to avoid the needle-sharp point of her hairpin as it flies at your head. “It’s not like that!”

    You manage to sweep a leg out, knocking her off her feet, and going to jump over her to escape — she’s faster than you, though, and snatches your ankle, sending you tumbling to the ground alongside her.

   It’s a mess of punches and blocks until you manage to climb on top of her, pinning her wrists to the ground and leaning your weight onto them as she attempts to wrangle free.

    Maria keeps struggling, waiting for you to make another move — grab her pin, pull out one of your knives, something on the offense rather than defense. But you don’t. You lean into the hold, waiting it out, not wanting to hurt her, and she seems to realize that.

    “Fight back, traidora!” She hisses, brow furrowed and eyes blazing with fury.

    “No.” You bite out, focusing on trying to keep her down as she attempts to wriggle free.

    “Fight back!” She insists, and you notice a sheen of tears in her eyes. You feel the sting of incoming tears in your own, prompted by the sight, and you bite your cheek and shake your head.

    “I’m so sorry, Maria.” You manage, and her expression wavers between fury and heartbreak. 

     You inhale deeply and let go of her wrists.

     Predictably, she knocks you over and scrambles on top of you in seconds, hairpin in hand and blade poised precariously at your throat. You breathe deeply, eyes flicking between her hand at your throat and her face.

    “I’m sorry.” You repeat, hands coming up beside your head with your palms out, a motion of surrender, and her expression scrunches up as you feel her hand begin to shake.

    “You —” She starts, the blade digging into your skin ever so slightly. “You —” She tries again, eyes glossy with tears. “You stole him.”

    Her words seem to reinvigorate her fury. She grits her teeth, leaning more heavily onto you and letting the tip of the blade break the skin of your throat. Your eyes squeeze shut involuntarily, a panicked last resort of self-preservation, as if not seeing the danger will make it go away.

     Just it seems like she might push the blade fully through the skin and end this fight for good — your mind spares a brief flash of panic and pity for Marcus who will have to hear that she killed you, have to deal with that —

   You feel her weight being lifted off of you. You gasp, lungs refilling with air you didn’t realize you’d lost, as your eyes open and you notice Monks rushing towards you — as well as Madam Gao, her expression stern but betrayed by her eyes glittering with delight at the opportunity to punish you.

     Another Monk grabs you by the arm and yanks you harshly upward, twisting your other arm behind your back and holding you firmly — the bullet wound in your shoulder begins to throb violently at the position, but your own fear takes over as Madam Gao begins stalking towards you Out of the corner of your eye, you spot both Maria and Saya being held tight by Monks, and you swallow the bitter taste of panic rising in your throat.

     Madam Gao grips your chin between her nails and smirks at you before glancing over at the other two girls. “Leave that one.” She says, eyes focused on Saya, and the Monk releases her and steps out of the way. The headmistress’ dark eyes shift back over to you and she lets go of your chin, one eyebrow raised, before turning and focusing her attention on Maria. “I have found the poison coursing through King’s.”

     You risk a glance at Maria and find that her expression mirrors your own — one of apprehension and fear.  

     The Monks drag the two of you out of the cafeteria and you risk one final look at Saya, but she’s already been surrounded by her Kuroki subordinates and you can’t catch her eye. They march you down the hallway, Madam Gao in the lead, and your heart pounds louder against your chest with every step you take.

     “I know it was you,” Madam Gao starts, speaking without turning around, and you can’t tell whether she is referring to you or Maria, or both. Somehow, the ambiguity is even scarier than it being pointed at one of you. “All of it. Chico, Yukio... You’re lethal. Normally I’d commend you. Perhaps offer you to the Green Temple. Only you are not just lethal...”

     At this, she stops in her tracks and turns to face Maria, causing you to hold your breath. “You are a cancer spreading rapidly. Saya, Marcus... Everyone around you succombs—” She flicks Maria’s hoop earring, causing the girl to flinch, and you furrow your brow — Madam Gao is toying with her, with both of you. “—to the infection.”

     “The only remedy for your type of malignancy,” At this, Madam Gao turns her attention to you, and you freeze. “Is to cut it out.” The final words are no louder than a whisper, but they seem deafening in the silence of the hallway.

     Then, the Monks shove you both forward, and Madam Gao stays where she stands. Your heart thuds against your ribcage as they lead you towards the interrogation rooms, a sinking dread filling you as you begin to dig your heels into the ground and resist — but it’s no use, the Monks just drag you along like a ragdoll. Maria is lead to the left, you to the right, and when the door opens, your heart sinks.

     The interrogation room is exactly as you remember it from that night after Vegas — damp, cold, dark, and thoroughly chilling. Thin beams of dull light filter through the ceiling, illuminating the chair in the middle — one that you are forced into, your wrists and ankles fastened into the leather cuffs on the arms and legs. You tug at them in futility, dread rising up your throat like bile.

     The door slams shut behind the Monk and you are left in the dark with only your fear and the sound of your own heartbeat as company.

     It isn’t long before you hear the door unlock and you steel yourself for the torture that is about to ensue — until it creaks open and reveals Saya on the other side.

     “What the fuck?” You whisper-yell, obviously completely lost, and she sighs as she approaches, immediately going to undo your left cuff.

     “There’s no time— I saw Riku headed into the room where they took Maria.” She explains, and you curse under your breath. As soon as your left hand is free, you wave her off and begin to undo your right cuff.

      “Go, I’ve got this.” She hesitates, and you widen your eyes. “Riku is going to kill her. I can do this. Go.”

     Saya nods and turns on her heel, sprinting out of the room, and you curse your hands for shaking as you untie yourself and stand up, bolting out of the room. By the time you reach the other room, Saya and Riku are going hand-to-hand. Knowing your friend and her proficiency in combat, you rush past them, crouching next to the chair Maria is buckled into.

     Her wild eyes meet yours, perplexed and panicked, and you nod in an attempt at reassurance before beginning to unfasten her cuffs. By the time you’re done with the first one, Saya has defeated Riku and the Kuroki underling has sprinted out of the room, no doubt to tell on you to the Monks.

     Saya joins you in freeing Maria but simply cuts away the leather buckles, and you sigh and lean back on your heels, the adrenaline catching up to you.

     “Is it true?” Saya asks Maria, and you glance between them — eyes widening as Maria nods.

     “Yes.” Maria, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Yukio betrayed you.” She explains, and her voice sounds desperate.

     “Then why didn’t you come to me?” Saya’s face is full of concern, falling as Maria glances away and says all she needs to with her expression. “You don’t trust me.” She fills in, glancing at you before sighing. “I was just trying to help you.” She tries, a plea, but Maria’s expression turns cold as she steps out of the chair.

     “Don’t.” The brunette glances between the two of you and the lack of affection in her eyes breaks your heart. As she pushes past Saya and leaves the room, you realize that you’ve just lost your friend for good.

     You hang your head for a moment before standing fully. “We should go.” You utter, eyes trained on the floor, and you hear Saya sigh before she stands up and nods. The two of you leave the room to find the lockdown over and students milling the halls, and you plan with Saya to meet her on the rooftop later — first, you need to find your other friends.

     When you get back to your room Petra isn’t there, but her bra is lying on the floor, along with... Is that Lex’s necklace? You cannot even begin to unpack whatever went down here, so you push it out of your mind and head back out, stopping in front of and knocking on Marcus’ door.

     Silence greets you, for long enough that you’re just about to turn and search elsewhere, before the door cracks open.

     Marcus’ eyes light up at the sight of you, that trademark lopsided smirk of his tugging at his lips as he pulls the door open further and invites you in. In the dim lighting of the hallway you didn’t see them fully, but in the brightness of his room, your eyes catch on the fresh bruises that litter his face. You gasp softly, fingers immediately reaching to ghost over the watercolour splotches, and he grimaces and catches your hand in his own.

     “It’s nothing, really.” He tries to diminish their severity, but your expression makes him sigh. “I got caught sneaking out during the lockdown.” He admits, and you frown.

      “You snuck out?” You smack him lightly on the shoulder, brow furrowed and mouth agape. “Marcus, that was incredibly stupid.” You scold. He huffs out a laugh, aware of his own antics, and glances up at you through his lashes.

      “Will you go easy on me if I say I was trying to find you?” He asks, and your scowl of frustration melts at the gesture. 

      “Ooh, how romantic.” You tease, cocking your head to the side, but the jovial atmosphere disappears as soon as Marcus’ eyes land on the fresh cut on your neck, his eyes going dark and his hand reaching out to cradle your neck and get a better look at the wound.

      “What happened?” He asks — no, demands — and though you are endeared by his protective streak, you need him to calm down a little. He can’t get murderous every time you so much as get a scratch on you.

     “Ah. Well...” You take a deep breath, unsure how much you want him to know, but due to the fact that Saya was there, you know it’s only a matter of time until he finds out, and he’s going to be pissed either way — maybe you can soften the blow a little. 

      Still, you rush all your words out at once with a grimace, as if saying it faster makes it less of a big deal.

     “I sort of tried to stop Saya and Maria from killing each other in the cafeteria and then Maria sort of kind of tried to kill me but then Madam Gao and the Monks hauled me off to one of the interrogation rooms—” 

      Marcus’ eyebrows shoot into his hairline and he opens his mouth, but you hold up a finger and rush the rest of the explanation out. “But nothing happened in there because Saya came and got me and then we both went and saved Maria from being killed by Riku.”

     Marcus lets you finish, obviously displeased at pretty much everything that just came out of your mouth, before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.

     “So this was Madam Gao?” He raises an eyebrow, and at your grimace and the slight shake of your head, he fills it in himself. “Maria...” He sighs, expression pinched, and you reach out to smooth the crease that forms between his eyebrows. “This is all my fault.” He plops down on the bed, head hanging low, and you sigh.

     “Hey, it’s okay. We’re...” You plan on saying ‘good’, but you’re not sure that’s the truth anymore. “She’s not trying to kill me anymore.”

     “Anymore? Oh, well then that’s just swell.” His words drip with irony, and you roll your eyes

     “Look, it’s sorted now, and besides, I have something else to tell you. It’s... Important.” You sigh and sit beside him and he turns to look at you, your breath still stolen every time you lay your eyes upon his features.

     “Yeah, actually, me too.” He sighs, propping his elbows on his knees and flexing his fists.

      When neither of you speak for a moment, you huff out a laugh and nudge his shoulder. “You first.” 

      He raises an eyebrow at you in amusement, but his expression turns stern again and your heart sinks at whatever news he’s about to share. “Maria killed Yukio.” He grimaces as the words leave his mouth, and you lean back on your hands.

     “Huh.” You utter, and he frowns.

     “What?”

     “That was my news too.” You offer, and he sits up dead straight.

     “What? When? How?” His rapidfire questions tumble into each other in their haste to be asked. 

      “When we got her out of the interrogation room. She told Saya that Yukio had betrayed her, but... I don’t know. It didn’t feel like the full story to me.” You sigh, shrugging slightly. 

     “That’s because it isn’t.” Marcus sighs, and you sit up straight and match his pose. “El Alma del Diablo thinks Yukio killed Chico, and ordered Maria to kill him. Now, the debt is repaid. Or so he thinks. She did it to get him off our tail.” He turns to you, dark eyes full of emotion, and you curse. She did it for you guys. You should have known.

     “Why didn’t she just—?” Tell me, you’re going to say, but there are a million answers to that, none of which you want to hear. “Okay. Alright. So we stick to that story.” You begin to nod, a plan piecing itself together, but Marcus grimaces, and your heart sinks.

     “I...” He takes a deep breath, and when you notice the tears that begin to fill his eyes your heart falls even further into the pit of your stomach. “I got caught sneaking out by Master Lin. He took me to an interrogation room. He had a video of my parents.” His voice catches on the last word and you reach for his hand, squeezing gently.

     He utters your name so quietly, so shakily, and then his face turns incredibly solemn. “I told him everything.”

     You freeze, heart pounding against your ribcage in the deafening silence of the room. He watches your expression carefully as his admission sinks in, his own expression one of desperation.

     “He already knew so much, and... He threatened to kick me out, to put me back on the streets, and I couldn’t— I couldn’t—” He continues to explain, as if imploring you to understand, but right at the end he breaks and you spot a tear fall. “I don’t know what this means for us, but he let me go. And he hasn’t come after us yet, I  can only assume—”

     You nod along as he speaks, slowly overcoming your shock. Better him than Madam Gao, you think, and squeeze his hand. “It’s okay.” You reassure, and he seems to crumple at the realization you’re not... Angry? Disappointed? Whatever he was expecting from you, forgiveness is not it.

     You rest a hand on his cheek, looking deep into his eyes. “We’ll figure it out.” You reassure, smiling slightly as his expression softens, but the pit in your stomach doesn’t leave — you don’t believe the words coming out of your own mouth. 

      Once the two of you have sorted everything out with each other, recounting the details of the day and coming up with a plan, you find yourself right back on the roof, back with the same friends you’d been with the night before.

      You and Marcus stand at the edge of the roof, hand in hand and peering out over the glittering skyline, steeling yourselves for the conversation that is about to ensue. He looks to you, questioning dark eyes practically sparkling with the reflection of the city lights, and you nod at him. He sighs, nods, and turns around. 

      “I got to talk to everyone about something — it’s important.”

      His words cause your friends to all turn to look at him with bated breath, his serious tone eliciting an atmosphere of tension and anxiety. You sit down on the ledge, peering up at him as he continues. 

      “Secrets got us into this. Holding onto bad feelings, not being honest, not trusting each other. All this back-biting and shit-talking and drama.” He hops down from the ledge, coming to perch beside you. “You guys are the only family I’ve had since my... My folks died.” His eyes drift over to yours, raking over your face as if memorizing your features. “And I can’t lose you.”

      “Come on, man.” Willie breaks the tense silence and you laugh lightly as Marcus breaks his gaze away from yours, turning back to face the group. 

      “Yeah, well, in the spirit of full disclosure, I want to tell you all the truth about me.” He looks at each of his friends, taking in their expressions, before his gaze drops to the floor.

      “I didn’t kill all those kids at the boy’s home. But when I escaped, I let loose the guy who did. I had this roommate, a psycho named Chester...” 

      You brace yourself for the next part.

      “He followed us to Vegas, and he found Chico’s body.” You watch Marcus’ words seep into your friend’s expressions, all of them going through phases of shock and fear. “And that’s not the worst of it. He... He has this deadline,”

      “And we’re running out of time.”

tag list: @casualcolorstarfish // @phereinnike // @fangeekkk // @frui7juic3 // @dcpcnxx // @dude-whatawave // @catharticchaos // @hyunnielix // @magical-fandoms-blog // @andyquhyn // @brat-girl // @minniestudies13-blog​ // @dearsunboy​ // @moisoverennyi-thestarlessone // @slithersin​ // @barzalseguin​ // @sayas-katana // @deanilostmyshoe-blog​ // @woniewrld​ // @pastel-aesthetc​ // @kaylinfayezink​ // @longlivethefatcatqueen​ // @sleepycolumnist​ // @colors-for-the-world-please​ // @milkybuun​ // @wherearemysock​ // @writemymemoir​ // @rizamendoza808 // @tokyren​ // @asix122747483​ // @adoringinsanity​ // @useralbon​ // @hoeneyhoeney​ // @lxrhomps // @dopepersonacloudllama​ // @coldspoons​ // @zelzablues​ // @artsyle​ // @kaitlyn290 // @itsrockannelove​ // @getawayferrari​ // @agent-jbarnes​ // @h0nkch0c0late​ // ( if your name is crossed off it’s because i was unable to tag you ! )

[verona2314]

Judgment of the Damned (translation) Chapter 16

Link chapter 15

Summary:

In the realm of Limbo, where souls deemed too good for Hell but not virtuous enough for Heaven reside, Victoria finds herself thrust into an unprecedented mission. When a notorious sinner, Sir Pentious, achieves redemption and ascends to Heaven, it sends shockwaves through all realms. Tasked with unraveling this mystery, Victoria, a minor judge of souls, is sent to the infamous Hazbin Hotel in Hell. For the first time, an emissary from Limbo steps foot into the fiery depths, tasked with observing and judging the denizens of Hell for their potential for redemption. As Victoria navigates this unfamiliar territory, she captures the unrequired attention of the enigmatic Radio Demon, Alastor. Amidst the chaos of demonic antics and the pursuit of understanding redemption, Victoria must confront her own beliefs and judgments. As she delves deeper into the secrets of the Hazbin Hotel, Victoria uncovers hidden truths about sinners, redemption, and the ultimate fate of souls caught between damnation and salvation. With each soul she encounters, Victoria's journey becomes not only a quest for answers but a personal voyage of self-discovery in the heart of darkness.

Chapter 16: A Gentle Nudge

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As always, thank you very much for reading and following this story. Many thanks especially to those who leave their comments. They motivate me to continue. I wish you all a great week!!!! <3 What has been your favorite chapter, scene, or dialogue?"

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Aody's Diary

Several changes have shaken the tranquility of Limbo after the trial of Lucifer and Lilith. Firstly, many in Heaven disagreed with Seilmon's verdict, considering the existence of Hell to be a sacrilege. In response, Seilmon had to use his mandate to force everyone to accept the decision, which caused some… tensions with Heaven. At least, thanks to this, time passed without Hell being attacked. Secondly, Dagmar started a campaign to forbid me from having any contact with our neighbors below. I think she just fears that, due to my weak character, I might seek to help them by giving them better conditions. I can't blame her, as I find it hard to accept that something is absolutely evil and therefore deserves to suffer. Thirdly and lastly, the arrival of human souls.

This last event was a great surprise to all of us. For a long time, souls went to Heaven or Hell automatically, without anyone understanding much of the reason or foundation… Why do we have to judge them now? Amid this chaos, Seilmon just smiled and compelled us to accept the situation, insisting that the Almighty works in mysterious ways. I had no choice but to move forward. But I must admit that this answer is not entirely satisfactory to me. Are we perhaps being given a vote of confidence? In any case, human souls were not the only new thing.Along with them, the minor judges appeared. Celestial beings who supposedly come to facilitate our work but who run frenetically everywhere, carrying stacks of papers, hindering my path with their diminutive size. More than once, I was close to crushing one with my foot. I suppose it's a matter of getting used to it, and I can't deny that they are… cute and manage to keep me company in this lonely existence. Some have told me about the conflicts they have to resolve among the inhabitants of Hell, especially those revolving around contracts related to the dominion of souls. Apparently, Hell has been developing all this time, and I can't help but feel a great curiosity.I believe it is necessary to have full knowledge of our neighbors below, and for that, a visit is necessary. This new world fascinates me, and I need to see it to better understand those souls that end up there. It is true that the minor judges give us files with the behavioral history of humans, but I can't keep condemning souls based solely on that. If we truly want to make a fair judgment, we must broaden our horizons. I know Dagmar will oppose it, as for her, all who lie there are manifestations of pure evil, but for me, they are creatures who have been deprived of all warmth and light. Of love. I only hope that Seilmon approves this idea and allows me to descend to these mysterious domains.

Alastor

His steps were firm and a little quicker than usual. His brow remained furrowed despite his attempts to relax his face. The smile stayed in place, tense, while his ears threatened to tilt and expose his bad mood. He didn't want to admit it, but Angel was right. He had been very irritable this week and couldn't understand why. The worst part was that this feeling was worsening with each passing day. Not even his little act of burning Angel's magazine had cheered him up. He quickened his pace even more as he felt his hand grip his cane tighter.

At first, he thought it was all due to the presence of opportunistic sinners who had turned the atmosphere of the hotel into an unpleasant and classless one. On the other hand, he couldn't deny that a greater number of sinners implied a heavier workload. Oh, but how he had greatly enjoyed every display of power he used to rid himself of those scum. The cleaning activity had been stimulating, to say the least. However, as the number of guests decreased, his irritation did not disappear; on the contrary, it intensified. If the origin wasn't undisciplined guests, then what was it? The truth was right in front of his eyes, but his pride prevented him from acknowledging it.

Ah, of course, his wounded pride must be the source of his unease. Victoria hadn't dedicated a single minute of her time to him in the last seven days, busy with meetings, events, interacting with other denizens of Hell, weaving her network of contacts, and advancing her goals. All the while, she left him in the shadows, directing her attention everywhere except to him, while others earned her trust or, worse, her affection. Did their camaraderie mean so little to her? Had she found someone more interesting to occupy her time with? Impossible. There was no one more fascinating than him.

Yes, his ego must be wounded, which was contradictory, as it was he who had decided to take a certain distance from the judge after recognizing a certain emotional connection with her. However, he never imagined that her absence would be so noticeable. And why not? After all, the sharp wit of the judge, combined with her intelligence and fierce determination, had become his main source of amusement. Their confrontations stimulated his mind, but the depth with which Victoria's amber eyes studied him brought that strange comfort to his chest. She even understood his intentions in the interview without him needing to explain anything. A complicit glance was enough for her to play along. How dare she not admire him and seek his presence? How dare she be so preoccupied without even trying to maintain their alliance? Certainly, his irritation was due to his wounded ego and the loss of control over Victoria's movements. Right? Or had he become accustomed to the spark that her company brought to his monotonous existence? That was unacceptable. He couldn't succumb to this strange, annoying sensation. He had to be firm in his resolution to keep away from her despite her absence making it clear how much he valued her company. Pathetic. He would never admit to that because doing so would mean acknowledging a reality he wasn't willing to accept.

Why couldn't this camaraderie be as simple as the one he had shared with Mimzy? He would never dare to deny the joy that the singer's company had brought him before their last farewell. He had had a lot of fun with her because they understood each other perfectly. His interactions with Mimzy had always been simple and free of complications, and the bond between them developed without these strange sensations. Moreover, he couldn't remember ever feeling such irritation over the absence of his esteemed friend. But on the other hand, while Mimzy was a person full of vigor, cunning, and fierceness, making her an untamable woman, her chaotic tendency perfectly matched Alastor's, so he had never felt challenged by her. And in the end, the singer within her unpredictability turned out to be... predictable, as they simply enhanced each other. But... was there really a deep understanding of each other? A view beyond the mask? Engrossed in his thoughts, he finally arrived at his destination, feeling slightly relieved. Perhaps the walk hadn't been such a bad idea. After all, the streets of the cannibal district always lifted his spirits. He decided to momentarily entertain himself by browsing the windows of the various shops in case something caught his interest until he finally found himself in front of Rosie's Emporium. He crossed the threshold and was met with the usual crowd of customers, but he knew his esteemed friend would attend to him as soon as she saw him among the crowd. Perhaps this time he could listen more attentively to the offer that the Overlord had made him that time he came with Charlie. He wondered if they still had any exterminator remains stored. He wandered uninterestedly through the store, hoping to hear his friend's voice call out to him.

"Alastor, darling! What a joy to see you again," the Overlord greeted him with her usual enthusiasm. "What brings you by? Another favor with a... delicious reward?"

"Oh no," the radio demon replied with his usual charisma, smiling broadly. "I've simply come on an errand and decided to take the opportunity to talk to you now that the circumstances are less urgent."

"No company this time, huh?" his friend replied, walking towards him and then directing him to her tea table. The radio announcer took a seat and pulled out Charlie's thank-you letter.

"The princess of Hell sends you this," he explained, handing her the envelope.

"Aw, what an adorable creature, don't you think?" the Overlord said, receiving the letter with a tender smile. "I insist that it wouldn't hurt you to learn a little from her and her good manners. This was not at all necessary," she continued as she read the letter, "and from what I can see, she's not just thanking me for using my people. How sweet. Undoubtedly, a convenient and easy-to-manage ally. Are you looking to exploit her potential, or is she a more important part of your grand plan? Whichever it is."

"When the time comes, I'll give you more details. But for now, everything's going wonderfully with the princess. What other assistance did you offer her? You said she thanks you for something different from your... loan of cannibals," he asked curiously, tilting his head.

"Nothing out of the ordinary!" laughed the shop owner. "Just a little nudge in matters of the heart. That's all. I won't go into details because, first of all, I respect the princess's privacy, and secondly, I know those matters don't interest you. But speaking of nudges, I'm very offended by you, Alastor," she reproached her friend, pretending to be offended. "Imagine how surprised I was to hear your radio broadcast the other day. Special guest, the Limbo judge? How come you didn't introduce me to her?"

"Dear Rosie, believe me, it wasn't for lack of interest or attention to you. In fact, I was going to, but we had a little mishap along the way," Alastor replied lightly. The last thing he wanted was to talk about Victoria,” but we can arrange a meeting if you're interested. "Oh, well. I appreciate it very much, but a couple of days ago I had the pleasure of meeting her. She's quite a character, isn't she? I really enjoyed the little duel you two had on your show. It's not easy to find someone who can keep up with you. Knowing you, you've already been working on gaining her trust. Although I can guess it's not an easy task," the Overlord added as she poured herself a cup of tea. "Can I offer you some coffee?"

"You already met her?" he asked, furrowing his brow with a hint of surprise. It seemed the judge hadn't wasted any time and had directed her efforts towards Rosie, an influential person with a wide network of contacts. For some reason, not being the one to introduce the judge to the Overlord left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Yes, I could use some coffee." The shop owner immediately rose from her seat, disappearing from view for a moment before returning with a French press and a cup. With her usual elegance, Rosie sat back down and slowly pressed the plunger to push it down and filter the coffee. Then, she poured a generous amount into the cup and finally extended it to the radio demon. Alastor received the brew, nodding his head in gratitude. The mere mention of the judge had caused some tension in his shoulders. The bad mood threatened to reappear.

"So, Alastor," his friend continued with interest, "resuming our conversation, indeed, I've already been introduced to her honor. Thanks to your radio show, I already sensed her wit, but I was delighted with her manners and kindness. And boy, does she have a way of seeing through people. She has a certain... warmth that invites you to talk and open up a little. I can't help but think of the usefulness of that... ability."

Alastor felt the irritation that had been tormenting him return and couldn't help but huff. "I think you're giving her too much credit, dear. She's just a judge from Limbo. She's nothing extraordinary or special. Yes, some may feel inclined to speak with her and reveal sad stories, but it's nothing new. You're an example of charisma. I achieve the same with my cunning. Reading people isn't difficult."

Rosie chuckled lightly before responding. "Maybe you're right, but what's charming is that she's genuinely interested. It's like she lights up every time she hears someone's story. And believe me, that genuineness is attractive. Especially here in Hell, where most sinners have the need to be heard and understood, even if they don't deserve it."

"Nonsense," Alastor quickly dismissed, trying to end the topic. Rosie looked at him a little surprised, leaving her teacup on the saucer.

"You surprise me, Alastor. You've always known how to recognize people's true potential. Is there any other reason why you dismiss her honor so easily?"

"Not at all, dear Rosie. Perhaps you've become more lenient when it comes to highlighting certain individuals. Or maybe it's because I've spent more time with Victoria and therefore know her better. We even have a certain camaraderie."

Rosie

"Nonsense," Alastor quickly dismissed. Rosie couldn't help but feel that there was something strange in the radio demon's behavior. Without a doubt, this was not his usual demeanor.

"You surprise me, Alastor. You've always known how to recognize true potential. Is there any other reason why you dismiss her honor so easily?" she asked, trying to get more information. There was a certain tension in her friend that did not escape her observant eyes.

"Not at all, dear Rosie. Perhaps you've become more lenient when it comes to highlighting certain individuals. Or maybe it's because I've spent more time with Victoria and therefore know her better. We even have a certain camaraderie."

"Is that so?" she replied, raising an eyebrow. "Then enlighten me. What is she really like?"

"Irritatingly stubborn. Yes, she's intelligent, witty, and cultured. But she's so intent on protecting her ideals that she's capable of challenging someone twice her size to save a frail sinner from unnecessary suffering. She has a steadfast determination that makes it impossible to sway her moral compass. Plus, she's very perceptive. But she has the audacity to thank me for my help, acknowledging that I possibly granted it only for the benefit of my own agenda. She's pragmatic and realistic, but chooses to focus on the positive. She has the strength and fierceness to pursue her goals and the mental discipline not to succumb to pressure even if she gets nervous in front of a microphone, meaning she has control over her emotions and therefore, my dear, you'll find that eliciting reactions from her is immensely gratifying. And she definitely has patience, as she bothers to read Victor Hugo's 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame,' without skipping the endless pages describing the construction. Oh, and I wouldn't recommend anyone have a bare-knuckle fight with her. She's an intriguing but stubborn force of change that gets on my nerves."

Rosie had to contain a smile. She was trying to determine if the radio host disliked the judge or, on the contrary, found her pleasant. "The Hunchback of Notre Dame, you say? Oh, then she's a very passionate woman at heart. Ah, tragic love."

"For me, that book is a comedy," commented her friend, taking a sip of coffee. "Anyway. I can't deny that the judge is an enigma. But her usefulness lies in her knowledge of Limbo and some of her powers."

At that moment, the bell of the shop rang, revealing the dignified figure of Victoria. Rosie noticed how Alastor's posture tensed the instant the judge entered the shop. The radio demon's gaze subtly changed, a kind of flash of surprise crossed his face before he returned to his usual mask of indifference, averting his eyes to the window. The Overlord perceived that Alastor's controlled gestures had a slight and novel stiffness.

"Are you all right, dear?" she asked, pressing her friend further. Why was the radio host behaving like this in the presence of the judge? Had they had a conflict in which he had not come out on top?

"Yes, of course," Alastor replied in his characteristic theatrical voice, smiling broadly but increasing that tension. Definitely, something was not right. And she was going to find out what it was.

"Your honor!" Rosie called, waving her hand to invite her closer. "How nice to see you again around here."

The judge smiled and walked towards them, emanating elegance and tranquility. "Such a warm welcome. Alastor, I didn't expect to see you here," the judge greeted courteously.

"The same goes for you, Victoria. Your presence has been quite elusive these days," The radio demon said simply. The tension in his shoulders was greater. Rosie needed to inquire more.

"Will you join us? What can I do for you?" the shop owner asked kindly as she got up to bring an extra chair closer. Luckily, the judge accepted her offer. "I know you're acquainted with Alastor, right?"

"Oh, yes. He's been a great help to me since I arrived in these domains. Thanks to him, I've been able to make successful progress in my work of gathering information. Today, I even played golf... I didn't expect the ball to be... eyes. But by now, it doesn't surprise me anymore. It made the game a little more... juicy."

"Had you told me about your little plan today, I could have warned you," added the red demon with a hint of fun and pride on his face. However, the tension in his movements remained. Victoria shook her head slightly, but didn't seem upset. She even smiled faintly. Alastor again averted his gaze to the window.

"Well, Your Honor. What brings you here?" Rosie inquired to give the radio host some relief from his obvious discomfort.

"Oh, yes, of course," the judge said. "I wanted to know if you'd have an appropriate dress to attend a piano concert. Apparently, I must dress elegantly."

"Oh, and who's the lucky one who'll enjoy your company that night? Do you want to leave him speechless?" she asked, giving her a mischievous look. Then she looked at Alastor and noticed how his smile had tensed a bit more.

"No, thank you. As modest and professional as possible," replied the judge, laughing gracefully.

"I see. You can check over there in the back. See if you find anything to your liking," the shop owner recommended. As soon as the judge had walked away, Rosie turned her face towards Alastor, looking at him with absolute attention, leaning slightly forward to rest her chin on the back of her hand. She raised her eyebrows, smiling at her friend.

"Yes?" Alastor asked, tilting his head with curiosity at his friend's curious gaze.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Rosie asked playfully.

"Why do you keep asking that? Of course, I am," the red demon replied theatrically.

The Overlord smiled even more as she scrutinized Alastor with her eyes. "What's going on with the judge? Your obvious tension is because of her, isn't it?"

Alastor narrowed his eyes, showing a bit of frustration. "I don't know what you're talking about. What's your obsession with the judge?"

"Oh, come on, dear," the shop owner replied, seeing through his facade. "Do you think I didn't notice your gestures from the moment she walked in? And that slight... spark perhaps? Something is bothering you, and judging by your behavior, it has to do with her."

Alastor snorted and shook his head. "Ridiculous. It has nothing to do with Victoria."

"Oh, is that so? Are you sure?" she continued pressing. "Because from where I'm standing, it seems like she matters to you more than you want to admit."

"It's not that," her interlocutor laughed, waving his hand dismissively as he took his coffee cup and leaned back in his seat. "There are just many things at play, and she's a part of it. I'm just making sure everything goes as it should without having to shorten the distance between us."

"Maybe keeping your distance isn't the best strategy. I don't think that will work out as well as you think," she added, losing a bit of patience with Alastor's persistent denial.

"What are you implying?" her friend inquired, narrowing his eyes.

"Well, I hate to tell you, but by doing that, you'll be in third place, as it's only a matter of time before the judge gains more... intriguing allies." She paused for a moment to let the mystery of her words pique the radio host's curiosity. "I heard an interesting rumor. A member of the nobility made an appearance at His Majesty Lucifer's residence. Imagine that! After all this time, something like that happens. Don't you find it interesting?"

"Ah, it might be," Alastor responded dismissively.

Rosie felt a bit frustrated. Despite her friend's obvious annoyance, he remained in total denial. She needed the red demon to reconsider for everyone's well-being. If Alastor truly felt some... intrigue towards the judge, it would be convenient for this to evolve, as it would lead the radio host to do everything in his power to keep the judge in his sphere, and therefore, out of the orbit of other Overlords and nobles, allowing Rosie to continue working closely with Victoria. On the other hand, it was the first time she had seen her friend act this way with someone. It was interesting, curious, but above all, worrying. She knew there was more to it than her interlocutor wanted to admit. How much? Impossible to know so soon, but she was clear that her friend's instinct and need for self-preservation would not allow him to act clearly and could lead him to make decisions he would regret in the future.

"Come on, Alastor. All this... ignoring your obvious interest in the judge won't do you any good," insisted the Overlord, this time resting her cheek on her hand.

"I have no interest in her. She's just a variable within the whole," his friend continued denying.

Rosie sighed in defeat. "Look, Alastor, I'm not telling you what to do with your new... complications. But a little honesty with yourself won't hurt. Here's some friendly advice from me: Ignoring something doesn't make it disappear. Especially feelings. The sooner you figure out what this whole thing with the judge is about, the sooner you can go back to your usual self. Besides, denial is a boring game."

"Fine,"Alastor grumbled. "Perhaps the... presence... of the judge disrupts my meticulously laid plans in unexpected ways. But that doesn't mean I have any... illogical... emotional attachment to her. She's just a nuisance that requires... rectification."

"Finally! progress," Rosie said playfully. Alastor let out a grumpy sigh that deep down thanked her for the advice. But for Rosie, this wasn't enough. No. It was necessary to force the situation a bit. She continued talking business with Alastor until the judge returned to them commenting that she had seen a dress she liked. This was the opportunity."That one over there? I have the same model but in a much more flattering color for you in the storeroom. A lovely wine red. Oh, but I must attend to my customers. Look how crowded this place got in just a few minutes! Alastor, would you do me the favor of helping her with that? You know where the storeroom is. Plus, if I remember correctly, the box was on a very high shelf and Her Honor with her adorable height won't be able to reach it. Besides, the place is very spacious. I think she would take a long time to find it."

Alastor raised an eyebrow suspiciously, but Rosie just smiled. She knew the radio host would seem very rude if he refused to help. After a few seconds, the red demon sighed and got up from his seat. "No problem," he responded irritably.

"Thank you, take her with you. What's the point of taking the dress out of the box if she doesn't like the color?" the emporium owner responded, giving Victoria a gentle push on the back. She watched them walk away and waited a few moments before following them to carry out her little "help."

The storeroom was actually the basement of the building, fitted with shelves to store out-of-season garments, awaiting their new peak. One had to descend a long staircase to reach the bottom of the well-maintained and orderly basement. Rosie waited a few seconds before quietly walking to the door and closing it, then locking it. She heard hurried steps ascending the stairs and knocking on the door, calling for her. She waited another moment before responding.

"Oh, dear! How unfortunate," she spoke through the keyhole, feigning surprise. "It seems the door has closed. Sometimes that happens. Drafts, you know. Don't worry. I'll go fetch the key. However, I ask for your patience as I still need to attend to my customers. Make yourselves comfortable," she finished, walking away with a smile of satisfaction.

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