#antoin cooper

[empirearchives]

Clock made by Antoine-Andre Ravrio, dated 1807–10, Napoleonic era

This object is a rare and possibly unique example of a small group of clocks showing a piano by Ravrio, a famous clockmaker. This clock is said to represent Empress Josephine seated at the newly fashionable piano at her recently decorated residence, Malmaison. Her influence on her son, Eugène de Beauharnais, in the decorative styles he favored seems clear from looking at this clock and the surtout de table.

(Cooper Hewitt)

[a-member-of-minuteswithmandm]

It's that time of the year where Emily in Paris gets dropped and I rage watch it.

Look, I don't care how cute or adorable they try and paint Emily to be. There's nothing Lily Collins can do to make her tolerable to me - Emily is the worst!

Her and Gabriel have no chemistry and they need to stop pretending to be saints. God they are such assholes and are trying to gaslight everyone into believing that they're platonic. Alfie is SO much better and honestly he deserves so much better than Emily wasting his time ughh.

I'm sooo glad that Camille cheated (and got a taste of the rainbow while doing it 😉🌈). She deserved to have some fun since her shitty boyfriend wanted to be shitty...also I'm here for Gabriel getting his feelings hurt.

Sylvie is still fucking awful, and Luc is an idiot - honestly I don't understand how that entire company survives because they clearly rely on Emily for things to work and she's pretty much an idiot too. I don't care how much people fawn over her - her ideas are surface level and basic, it's embarrassing that everyone acts like she's a genius. Also the attempts to make Madeline a joke irritate the hell out of me. Ewww.

Honestly there isn't enough time in the world to type out everything I hate about this grlarbage Netflix show, but don't worry: we made a video about it!

[laststandx3]

[chicinsilk]

US Vogue April 1, 1962

Wilhelmina Cooper wears a cropped 'Jasmine' cardigan, in natural Mutation Emba white mink, tied in with a heavy gold braid. Here, he wraps himself in a beige chiffon mini dress, Cardigan by Ritter Bros. Dress by Talmack. Jewelry from Van Cleef & Arpels. Hairstyle by Adrian from Antoine Salon.

Wilhelmina Cooper porte un cardigan court en « Jasmine », en vison naturel blanc Mutation Emba, relié par une lourde tresse dorée. Ici, il s'enroule sur une robe courte en mousseline de soie beige, Cardigan by Ritter Bros. Robe par Talmack. Bijoux de Van Cleef & Arpels. Coiffure par Adrian d'Antoine Salon.

Photo Karen Radkai vogue archive

[melancoliefatale]

He looked at the man now shivering one of the symptoms of the fever or for more precision when the body trick himself to think he is more cold to augment the temperature and fighting infection. Antoine liked to remember how the human body ensure so much mechanisms to stay alive.

but his thoughts wonder off and luckily Faust wasn’t dying and it wasn’t serious though he should make the other drink water staying hydrated.

But as he was ready to leave the room to get water he was caught up by the other smiling and not insulting him nor fight him off.

it was strange to said the least. And he was surprised when he begin to talk again with a more softer tone. «  I shall not leave until you get better Mr.Faust. » he said before standing up. «  I will be back after i got a bottle of water for you. You need to stay hydrated. » as the doctor said leaving the man alone but not for too long as he was with a glass and a bottle of water before putting it the night stand.

« Now you should rest. It’s one of the best remedies. »

“You’ve got a fever. Of course I’m not going anywhere.” replied softly Antoine while putting a fresh compress on the other forehead before sitting in a chair as a vigil. Fortunately it wasn’t something serious and was only a cold and the fever should be left as it was one of the defense mechanisms of the body itself.

better to watch over him, though the vampire while crossing his arms against his chest and looked at Faust again who seemed to look at him too.

[soft]

Faust had been in town when he encountered Antoine again. He'd barely been able to talk when he started to feel tired and wanted to retire for the evening, letting Antoine know he was welcome to follow to his current room at an inn. Motel? Hotel? Whatever such things were called now.

Now he was laying down, wearing just his shirt, shawl, pants, and gloves, with the man sitting beside him. He felt so cold...

A fever? He looked to Antoine. "You intend to stay?" Faust smiled and looked toward the ceiling. "If that's your fancy. I'll be fine either way, mister Benoîtes."

He folded his hands over his stomach, closing his eyes. "I shant be sick long."

[tuhhadkeryo]

Well I believe I’ve made a post at one point ab this one rebirth scenario that I thought up and had brain rot over. This art is proof 💃🏼✨

Basically, an enemy of the ruling ‘family’ (being, Motherboard, ruler, Antoine, husband of ruler, Marbles, chief technician, Ada, wife of technician and one herself, and Hacker, wayward son/technician) wants to get back at them as a whole, and therefore steals 5 ‘precious things’: Matt, Jackie, Inez, Digit, and Hacker’s secret.

This villain would probably be Zusk but I really haven’t decided/thought about it.

The villain puts each precious thing in a timed trap and the 5 family members are forced to cooperate to save the others. If they choose to, they can leave - but sacrifice the others that they haven’t saved yet. Only, Matt helps “Hacker’s secret” escape a little early.

The group run into Harmony, the escapee, and now must keep an eye on Hacker to be sure he doesn’t take Harmony and leave, sacrificing the rest of the villain’s “Precious things”.

So yeah that was the scenario and I wanted to draw Harmony as well but who tf has time for that?

Bottom is a version with a lazy countdown clock added.

Antoine is @singertobe ‘s oc who I adore ❤️

ALSO as you can tell I never can decide on an eye color for Hacker. Shoot me your thoughts plz plz plz 🥺

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Hello :)

I would like to know if you know who is behind the horrible false accusation against Marie Antoinette regarding her son. We know that Hébert presented the testimony in the revolutionary tribunal, and although he bears responsibility for it, I don't think he was alone in fabricating this false testimony.

While it is hard to know for sure exactly whose idea it was to make incest a charge against Marie-Antoinette, these are all the people involved in obtaining the information needed that I’ve been able to track:

When giving his testimony during Marie-Antoinette’s trial, Hébert claimed this ”fact” had been discovered by Antoine Simon, Louis-Charles’ caretaker in the Temple, who then told him, alongside mayor of Paris Jean-Nicolas Pache and prosecutor of the Paris Commune Pierre-Gaspard Chaumette, about it (cited in Histoire parlementaire de la Révolution française, volume 29, page 355-356):

…He (Hébert) adds that Simon having informed him that he had something important to communicate to him, he went to the Temple accompanied by the mayor and the prosecutor of the Commune. There they received a declaration from the young Capet, from which it was revealed that at the time of Louis Capet's flight to Varennes, La Fayette was one of those who had contributed the most to facilitating it; that for this purpose they had spent the night at the castle; that during their stay at the Temple, the inmates had continued for a long time to be informed of what was happening outside; that correspondence was sent to them in clothes and shoes. The little Capet named thirteen people as those who had partly cooperated in maintaining these intelligences, that one of them having locked him and his sister in a turret, he heard him telling his mother: I will get you the means of finding out the news by everyday sending a peddler to shout the evening newspaper nearby. Finally, young Capet, whose physical constitution each day was deteriorating, was discovered by Simon [while engaging] in indecent pollutions that were fatal to his temperament; that the latter having asked him who had taught him this criminal practice, he replied that it was to his mother and his aunt that he was indebted for the knowledge of this fatal habit. From the declaration, observes the deponent, that the young Capet made, in the presence of the mayor of Paris and the prosecutor of the Commune, it follows that these two women often made him sleep between the two of them, that he there committed acts of the most unbridled debauchery; that there was not even any doubt, from what fils Capet said, that there had been an incestuous act between mother and son. There is reason to believe that this criminal enjoyment was not dictated by pleasure, but rather by the political hope of annoying the physique of this child, who one still liked to believe was destined to occupy a throne, and whose morale one wanted by this maneuver to ensure the right to reign over while, by the efforts that one made him make, he remained attacked by a descent, for which it was necessary to put a bandage on this child; and ever since he no longer lives with his mother he has regained a robust and vigorous temperament.

The letter where Simon asks Hébert to come over to the Temple has been conserved and can be found cited in volume 1 of Histoire du tribunal révolutionnaire de Paris : avec le journal de ses actes (1880) by Henri Wallon:

The republican Simon to the patriot and damn patriotic Father Duchesne, The Temple, 30 September 1793, year II of the Republic one and indivisible Hello. Come quickly, my friend, I have things to tell you and would feel a lot of pleasure seeing you. Try to come today, you will always find in me a frank and brave republican.

Louis-Charles’ declaration, made on October 6 1793, can in its turn be found cited in Procès des Bourbons (1798). Besides Louis, Simon, Pache, Chaumette and Hébert, the document has been signed by Frery and Seguy, commissioners of the temple, Heousée, police administrator, and Laurant, council commissioner. According to The Dauphin (Louis XVII) (1921) by G. Lenotre, Louis-Charles’ signature is very clumsily written when compared to the handwriting in his schoolbooks, opening the door to the possibility his interrogators had threatened him or made him drunk in order to get him to put his name on the paper:

…He declared to them, furthermore, that having been surprised several times in his bed by Simon and his wife, charged with watching over him by the commune, committing indecency on himself that was harmful to his health, he admitted to them that he had been instructed in these very pernicious habits by his mother and his aunt, and that different times they had amused themselves by seeing him repeat the practices in front of them, and that very often this took place when they made him lie down between them. From the way the child explained himself, he made us understand that once his mother made him approach her; it resulted in copulation and a swelling in one of his testicles, as said by the citoyenne Simon, for which he wears a bandage, and that his mother recommended him to never speak of it: that this act had been repeated several times since.

In the same work we also find the interrogation held with Louis’ sister Marie-Thérèse-Charlotte the following day. She was then among other things asked ”if, when playing with her brother, he did not touch her where he didn’t get to touch her; if one didn’t make her brother jump on a blanket, and if his mother and aunt hadn’t made him sleep between them?” Thérèse responded with a no. The protocol then documents the following:

We immediately called for Charles Capet, and invited him to tell us if what he said yesterday, regarding the touching of his person, was true? [He] persisted in what he had said, repeated and maintained it in front of his sister, and persisted in saying that it was the truth. Asked a second time to state whether this was indeed true, he replied yes, it is true; his sister claimed to never have seen it.

This document is signed by Jacques-Louis David, Pache, Chaumette, Heussé, Laurent and Danjou. The same people plus one Séguy also signed the interrogation of Madame Élisabeth held the very same day. The childrens’ aunt was she too questioned about the incest:

Has she read Charles' statement, regarding the indecencies mentioned in the document, dated the 15th of this month? Responded that a similar infamy is too far below and too far away from her to be able to respond to it; that moreover the child had had this habit for a long time; and that he must remember that she and his mother scolded him for it several times. Charles was asked to explain on this subject: he attested that he had told the truth. She read the rest of Charles' statement on the same subject, in which he persisted, adding that he did not remember the times, but that it happened frequently. She said that as it only concerns her, she will not respond to it any more than to the rest; she believes that her conduct must protect her from suspicion. Charles asked to declare who had first instructed him in this practice. The two together. Did it happen during the day or during the night? He doesn’t remember, but he thinks it was in the morning.

The secretary who wrote the interrogations down was one Daujon. His colleague, the municipal officer Goret, wrote that he had told him the following about the incident (cited in The last days of Marie-Antoinette (1907) by G. Lenotre):

It was this same Daujon who was acting as secretary when the young prince was subjected, in the Temple, to an examination on the subject of the slanderous and infamous statements that had been circulated with in regards to the Queen. Here, word for word, is what Daujon told me on the subject of that examination, and I may say that I considered him a man worthy of belief. The young prince, he told me, was seated in an armchair, swinging his little legs; for his feet did not reach the ground. He was examined as to the statements in question, and was asked if they were true: he answered in the affirmative. Instantly Madame Elizabeth, who was present, cried out: ”Oh, the monster!” As for me, added Daujon, I could not regard this answer as coming from the child himself, for his air of uneasiness and his general bearing inclined me to believe that it was a suggestion emanating from someone else, — the effect of his fear of punishment or ill treatment, with which he may have been threatened if he failed to comply. I fancy that Madame Elizabeth cannot really have been deceived either, but that her surprise at the child's answer wrung that exclamation from her.

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

A Fragment of My Soul

“Come on, Antoine! Cooperate! Help me with this!” The older woman raised her eyes at the sky, as if to ask God to grant her the patience that she was so sorely lacking. “No, Colette, no. I told you already, I am not convinced by all of…this.” Colette, ever stubborn, brought her hands on her hips, puffing her chest up. “And I told you that it will work! Trust me, sister: they have been dancing around the whole issue for MONTHS now! At this pace, they will never declare to one another! They just need a little push from us! Their Cupids in the flesh!” Colette’s golden eyes twinkled with benevolent mischief at those last words. Antoine gave her younger sister a long look, before turning to peak out of the window that faced the courtyard of the small house: emerald green fronds welcomed her inquisitive eyes, pomegranate trees and an entire orange and lemon orchard with their branches reaching toward the sky, bountiful with ripe fruits that just waited to be picked. There, almost hidden away from the view, she could see an easel and canvas standing beneath the pomegranate tree and just behind it, a solitary painter working on his artwork, his dark leonine hair tied with a black ribbon. She needn’t her eagle vision to know who that was.

Antoine draw a sigh as a profound crease appeared between her brows. “It’s too risky, Colette. We have no means to know if what you are concocting will go well. What if…what if she’ll break his heart? What if you are wrong, and she doesn’t reciprocate his feelings in the same manner he does? You have seen him: he is completely lost for her, worse than he has ever been for…for that salope that almost killed him. If she were to reject him or toy with his feelings-” She flexed her hand instinctively, allowing the hidden blade to slither out from under her wrist.

Colette’s eyes widened at that sudden display of aggressiveness, and gently grabbed her sister’s arm, making her retract the blade.

“Peace, Antoine! I beg of you! Dorlé would never hurt Mathias! She has a kind heart and a gentle soul.”

“So did Emmanuelle, and we were all fooled by her angel’s face and sweet duplicitous words,” Antoine growled through bare teeth. Mentioning that name alone made her want to spit in the ground. Even after so many years, Antoine’s rage still burned as hot as a vulcano, never relenting, only growing in strength.

Colette sighed, her eyes turning sad and took a peak out of the window, until she saw her brother as well.

“I can understand your reticence in showing trust to anyone that would get closer to Mathias, Antoine. I truly do. But let me ask you this: do you trust me? Do you trust my judgment?”

Antoine’s shoulders slumped.

“Of course, pollita. You know I trust you,” she whispered, wrapping an arm around Colette’s shoulders, in a sweet hug.

“Then trust me when I tell you that Dorothea is not Emmanuelle. Her feelings for Matis are sincere and of the most profound nature; she made me intend as much when I tried to ask her. And if this isn’t enough to convince you, I found an entire folder of poems that she had written, and while I am not one to snoop-“

Colette giggled at the face her sister’s made: they both knew she was lying and was never able to keep her nose out of others’ business.

“-Well, I do snoop around, but it’s ALWAYS for a good cause! Such as in this case! Antoine, I read those poems, and trust me when I tell you that even you would have versed a tear, and have no further doubt of the sincerity of her feelings for him! Dorlé wrote poems upon poems for Matis, and never showed them to anyone! What cause would she have to write them, if not because her soul is pining for him to love her in return?”

Antoine stood silent for a moment, her eyebrow raised as she pondered: if what Colette was saying was true - and she never had reason to believe her sister a liar, especially when Mathias was concerned- then that strange English woman that had come from another time altogether might truly be harboring sincere feelings for her brother.

Feelings that, she knew, Mathias needed like the soil needed water to in spring to bear fruit in summer, after his heart had been broken by Emmanuelle.

“Trust me, Antoine: Dorlé is utterly besotted with Mathias. She is just… an absolute disaster in showing him how she feels!”

Antoine could barely contain a muffled giggle, the one that only her sister’s harsh honesty could bring out of her.

“If that's the case, then, they are perfect for each other,” she conceded, thinking about how much Mathias himself, while proficient with his words when matters of the Brotherhood were concerned, was utterly clueless when it came to the words his own heart whispered to him.

When she turned to look at Colette, she saw her sister still staring at her, expectantly.

“Very well, gordita, we will do it your way.”Antoine raised her hands in defeat, letting out a throaty laughter. “What do you propose?”

Colette return the laughter, her face plastered with the intriguing smile she always had whenever she was up to some mischief.

“You know that Mathias has been working on a painting, recently?”

“Of course I do. I haven’t been able to access your part of the garden ever since he has started painting under your pomegranate tree.”

Colette nodded with understanding, before speaking.

“And do you know the subject?”

“No, Colette, I don’t. You know how private he is about his own creations. I never asked him to share anything he didn’t want to, and I’m surely not starting now.”

“Well, I just so happen to have snooped aroun-“

“COLETTE!”

“It’s for a good cause!”

Antoine sighed, raising her eyes to the sky and shaking her head.

“Lord give me patience with this one. Very well. What of the painting?”

“We need for Dorlé to see it. She needs to see it! If she sees it and Mathias finds her there, they will finally talk to each other about their feelings! I know it.”

Antoine’s lips thinned in a contrite frown.

“You want to put them in a corner.”

“You can call it this way. I prefer “they will finally face what everybody that is not blind can see!”"

The Master Assassin crossed her arms, shaking her head.

“It’s a gamble, Colette.”

“No, Toinette,” she smiled again. “It’s a leap of faith. And we’ll need Xavier to be our scapegoat,”

Antoine produced a sound halfway between a snort and a chuckle, but Colette knew, from the look she gave her, that she had finally managed to convince her sister.

“As if I needed any more incentive. Lead the way, baby sister: let’s make this happen.”

Mathias raised his face to the sky, his dark inquisitive eyes scouring through each soft cloud that swam against the darkening empyrean vault of that summer sunset.

From where he stood - hidden away in a small corner of the back courtyard, just underneath Colette’s favourite pomegranate tree- he could see the green valley and peaks that surrounded Granada, and, if he tended his ears a little more, he could hear the playful sound of the nearby brook as it bubbled down toward the valley, its cascading rhythm a lullaby for the soul.

Mathias closed his eyes, allowing himself to take a deep relaxed breath, feeling the fresh wind of the upcoming evening brush his dark locks and tickling the skins of his arms like the most gentle of caresses.

So rarely he allowed himself to roll up his sleeves, whenever he was out in the open; so rarely he allowed himself to bare the skin of his arms, a mangled spectacle of scar tissue that extended from his hands to his neck, encompassing the entirety of his back and stomach.

With an almost defeated chuckle, as he cleaned his brushes in a water-filled glass, he could almost hear Antoine scolding him for hiding them and then, as she usually would, starting a tirade about how those scars were the reason Colette was still alive, and that he deserved to be celebrated for what they represented, rather than being made to hide away as if he were some form of grotesque monster.

Mathias knew better than to argue with Antoine over that, remaining in silence until his twin sister was done with her tirade. But eventually, he would always resort to cloak his whole body from the rest of the world, much like he did with his heart. He couldn’t bear to have others to look at him with pity.

He stopped his thoughts in their track, his lips thinning in a sour grimace as the truth show itself to his face: he could bear the world’s piety upon him, if he had to.

It was the thoughts of her eyes looking at him in horror that made him want to cloak himself.

With a quick nervous gesture, he washed the brush one by one, trying to erase those doubts from his tormented mind. The familiar routine helped him calm down, if only for a few seconds, as he dried the brushes against a thick rag he had hanging from his breeches, completely unbothered by the stains of colours that were decorating his garments.

They were a small price to pay for what those pigments were contributing in creating.

e looked at the canvas in front of him, quickly examining once more, and held his breath as he looked straight into the eyes of the young woman portrayed on the canvas: such peculiar shade of blue that loved to play with the light, sometimes tending to the silver, like the reflection of the moon in a pond, sometimes tending to the warmer hue of the periwinkles that grew in the meadow around their home.

But there was more than that: mirth hidden in the small crease underneath the lower lid, wonderment in the shine of the light against the blue…the most profound of love in the entirety of her gaze.

With a long sigh, he wished he had the courage to ask her to sit still in front of him for just a moment, so that he could drink from her eyes and see within them all that his soul yearned for.

But he couldn’t.

And would never bare his feelings for her.

Not ever.

She was a woman of genteel disposition, it was evident in the way she moved, in the way she addressed others.

He had nothing to offer to her, but the love from his broken damaged heart.

And despite the verity of his feelings for her, he knew they were not enough.

He was not enough.

“MATHIAS!”

A loud, brash voice - Antoine’s - called for him, all the way from across the courtyard. He took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping: her tone of voice didn’t promise anything good. But he was somewhat grateful for his sister to have stopped his mind from spiraling. Nothing like Antoine’s own anger to distract him from his self-pitying. He raised his eyes, only to meet his twin’s, who was standing at the window of her room at the second floor.

“WHAT?” he shouted back.

“XAVIER HAS DONE ONE OF HIS MISCHIEF AGAIN AND I NEED YOU UPSTAIRS!”

It took all of Mathias’ willpower not to huff in exasperation.

“WHAT FOR, TOINETTE? AM I XAVIER’S GOVERNESS, REQUIRED TO LOOK AFTER HIM AS IF HE WERE A CHILD? I FAIL TO SEE HOW I CAN HELP.”

“IT’S FOR HIS OWN GOOD THAT I’M CALLING YOU HERE. LESS CHANCES OF ME SKEWING THIS PENDEJO AS HE PROPERLY DESERVES. DON’T MAKE ME COME DOWNSTAIRS AND TAKE YOU BY THE SCRUFF OF YOUR NECK. COME INSIDE. NOW.”

He rolled his eyes, snorting.

So much for peace and quiet.

If only Xavier didn’t have the penchant on getting on Antoine’s nerves doing precisely what she always asked him NOT to do.

He turned to look one last time at the painting in front of him, and smiled again with the sweetness that that particular work of his always brought out of him.

“What would I give to see this look on your face, instead of this canvas…” he thought, wishing to be able to find the courage to say those words out loud.

Then, squaring his shoulders as if to take courage, he took the dirt path that would take him back to the house, even if his heart was still anchored to the canvas and easel underneath the pomegranate tree.

“OH NON, NON, NON! PUTAIN DE BORDEL DE MERDE!”

Dorothea’s eyes widened like two saucer plates when she heard the string of profanities leaving Colette’s mouth, as she raised her eyes from the small cloth she was embroidering.

“C-Colette? Are you alright? In Heaven’s name, what is going on?”

The dark haired woman was onto her before she had the chance to even stand, offering a taste of a dark, dense mixture.

“Taste it, Dorlé!”

Doing as she was told to, Dorothea took a tiny sample of that mixture, as the sweet taste touched her tongue.

“It-it is delicious, Colette!”

“It is A DISASTER!” she babbled, taking away the spoon before Dorothea had the chance to taste it again. “I knew Xavier would mess this up! I KNEW IT!”

When Dorothea saw Colette throwing her arms up in the sky in an exasperated gesture, she furrowed her eyebrows, concerned.

Leaving the embroidery work on the soft wicker chair where she was sitting, she reached her, taking the taller woman by the shoulders- something easier said than done, considering how much taller Colette was compared to herself.

“Colette, deep breath. Deep breath, my darling,” she whispered, guiding the friend in the same was she usually guided herself. “What happened that sent you in a spell? Whatever concoction you gave me, it was as delicious as always?”

Colette took another deep breathe, shaking her head in silent disagreement.

“Dorothea, ma louloutte,” she started, her voice almost condescending.”I appreciate your reassurance, but not even your sweet words can actually hide the fact that the sauce was a complete disaster! Xavier has messed up because when I asked him SPECIFICALLY to bring me pomegranates from my own favourite tree and he didn’t. He lazied off -as always-“ she added, snorting with impatience. “And brought me the first pomegranates he found. Just wait until I have my hands on him…”

Dorothea let out a nervous chuckle.

“You could…tell the difference between pomegranates?”

Colette’s lips stretched in a proud smirk.

“Of course I can, Dorlé! It’s my job knowing and being able to discern the difference! The same way your ear can discern a note that doesn’t flow with the rhythm of the song, so my taste buds know when something is wrong with the dish!”

Dorothea smiled back, nodding in understanding.

“I can see what you mean. But what will you do now?”

Colette’s smile widened, her eyes now twinkling mischievously.

“Now, my darling Dorlé, I need your help to rectify this mistake, because otherwise my sauce will be inedible and I cannot stand for it! Mathias asked for his favourite dish tonight, and I cannot cook it WITHOUT the sauce from my pomegranate tree!”

Dorothea blinked and she felt her cheek flushing at Mathias’ name.

“I-that would be an immense shame indeed.” she fumbled between a whisper and another, as she always did whenever she thought about the gallant man. Mathias never asked for anything for himself, not even when it came to something as simple as food. But, every once in a while, when the mood stroke him, he would quietly request to his sister if she could cook for him his favourite savory dish, and Colette would never refuse.

Noticing that Colette was staring at her, with a knowing expression on her face, Dorothea blushed even more and tried to clear her throat.

“We cannot allow for this to happen, Colette.”

“Ahhh, the words I wanted to hear from you, ma cocotte! And that is why I need you - who I know would never fail now that you know what’s at stake - to bring me those godforsaken pomegranates!” But before Dorothea had the chance to even agree with her, Colette had already put a whisker basket in her hands and was gently pushing her toward the door in the back of the kitchen.

“Hurry, ma chére! Or tonight we won’t eat!”

Dorothea gave her a soft look and a smile, before she turned on her heels and trotted down the grassy meadow that brought to the back of the courtyard, barefoot as she always was ever since the summer had arrived in the Kingdom of Spain.

She smiled with herself, as she went through what just happened, a smile that only Colette always managed to get out of her, with her vibrant personality.

She actually admired how punctilious the young cook always was whenever she cooked.

Dorothea couldn’t feel any difference in quality in the sauce that Colette had her sample compared to what she usually cooked for them, but the young woman always sworn that the fruit her favourite pomegranate tree bore was the only one that would give the results she was looking for.

Dorothea hadn’t see fit to debate with that, for her knowledge in that regard was naught.

She has learned, in the couple of years spent with the De Beaumont, NEVER to discuss nor contradict Colette in matter of food. The young cook was imperative in the way she moved around the kitchen - an Empress in her own right - and Dorothea was always happy to play the obliging vassal to her every whim.

She was the best of friends, most loyal of them all, and they have grown as close to each other as if they had been born sisters from the same mother and father.

Chirping her low tune, a lullaby that Byron often sang to her when in Dover, she took a turn toward the corner of the garden that Colette had suggested.

Dorothea noticed that the hamper was not as heavy as it had been when they first arrived in Granada.

Before meeting the De Beaumonts - before falling down that fracture of time that had brought her to a different era altogether- Dorothea never had any reason to do menial work: her lady mother didn’t deemed it proper of a woman of her station, and her father never allowed her to, telling her to leave all the tasks to the staff of the house.

And now instead, it was an integral part of her every day routine.

Waking up early, when the sun was just about to cross the horizon, to wash the garments in the clean waters of the river; caring for the horses that belonged to Mathias and Antoine; picking the vegetables from the garden that Mathias tended, when his obligation with the Brotherhood weren’t imperative.

She looked at one of her palms, and saw the callouses that never went away, no matter how strong she scrubbed them with pumice or how long she soaked her hands in warm water and rose oil. Her hands had become rougher, not as soft as when she was still in 1868.

She thought about how her Lady mother would probably recoil at that sight, so improper, so unbecoming of her.

Her limbs as well had grown stronger, toned, and she has become more agile than she ever had any reason to be.

Tending to the chores in the morning, spending her afternoons riding with Mathias and Xavier in the glorious Andalusian countryside contributed to it, and Colette’s own nutritious cuisine helped as well and, she reckoned, not being constrict by her crinolines all day and being free to run around as much as she wanted had also a reason to it.

A simple life, far different from the one her parents had prospected for her: a life spent one gala to the other each evening of her young womanhood, twirling in the arms of strangers who were after her title and money; eventually married to one of the strangers her family deemed worthy of her, someone that would bring honour to the Order as well as wealth that would render them all richer; then, at last, Mistress of the House and mother to frolicking children that would, one day, follow in her footsteps and belong to the Order as well.

A much simpler life indeed, but one she had grown to love for all the joys it brought her, despite the everyday difficulties that it presented.

Dorothea smiled, with a tinge of melancholy: thinking about her previous life made her wonder how Phillip and Charles were faring…before she caught herself and remembered that they didn’t exist yet. It was such a strange feeling whenever she stopped to think about it, thinking of them as only distant in place, rather than separated by Father Time itself.

With trembling fingers and a chasm of pain opening in her breast, she touched the locket around her neck and brought it to her lips, giving it a long kiss, as she always did whenever she felt that treacherous sadness wrench her heart in a grip cold as ice against the skin.

It was the only memento she had that her family ever existed.

Despite having had two whole years to adjust to it, she knew she would never come to terms that all those smiling faces did not yet exist anywhere in the world.

Her mother and father and Byron would be born in more than 20 years from now.

Her cousins in almost 50 years.

Would she meet them again? And what about herself? Would she be born again?

What would happen in 1868, if by Gods will, she was still alive by then? Would two Dorotheas exist at the same time?

And who would be the real Dorothea? The one that had fallen in the past? Or the one that was yet to be born?

What would happen if she were to go back to London and meet herself?

Each time she tried to unravel all of that -all the ramification of her being dragged back in time- she felt a headache drilling in her brain and a rusted nail twisting without mercy into her heart.

“Stop it, Dorothea,” she thought, wiping away a small tears that was threatening to fall from her eyes. “Just stop it. Focus on the present. Focus on what you have now,”

And so she did, stopping in her track for a moment to catch a deep breath and cleanse her thoughts. And when she allowed her mind to ground itself to the present, she found her way through the dark moors of her mind, through the brambles that still scratched mercilessly against her skin, guided by the splendor of the full moon that set her life alight each night: Mathias’ sweet smile and his nose crinkling whenever he was bemused; his deep laughter whenever Colette jested with him… his dark profound eyes that always seemed to read into her soul whenever he glanced at her, as if he could truly see her heart.

Her lips parted, suddenly feeling without breath as his face appeared in front of her eyes with blazing clarity, clearer than anything else, as warmth spread from her stomach until it reached her cheeks, rendering them as red as ripe apples, as it always happened whenever the man’s gentle visage found his was to her mind.

His voice, melodious even while simply talking, resonated clear in her mind, and she couldn’t help a small shy chuckle from leaving her throat when she remembered the peculiar way he pronounced the “s”.

So immensely endearing.

So incredibly dear to her heart.

She would recognize his voice among thousands.

“Oh, Mathias...Sweet Mathias…my Mathias…” she whispered under her furtive breath, secretly, as she always did when she allowed herself to utter his name out loud with all the feelings she had to keep concealed each time she spoke to him.

Night after night ever since she realized that she had fallen for him, she had played with him - for him - every single romantic tune she knew in her repertoire, hoping that something -anything- would somewhat tip him in learning of her feelings for him, small sign that would reveal to her if he felt the same way she felt for him.

She knew he held her in the greatest of esteem, always courteous, sometimes almost deferential in the way he approached her.

But she knew that was the way he treated every person he respected and cared for.

Such was his nature.

But, she thought with herself, furrowing her brows, she always wondered if there was something more?

Could there be..something more, something just for her?

As she reached Colette’s pomegranate tree, her shoulders slumped a little.

There could not be a way of knowing, if not asking himself directly.

And that required an initiative and a courage that she wasn’t sure she possessed.

She had found a family again in the De Beaumont, who had opened their arms for her, welcoming her as if she had always belonged with them sharing with her without boundary, when they had so little to spare for themselves.

They had given her a family again, after her own was lost to her forever.

She could never risk destroying that harmony they had created altogether in the past two years for something as selfish as her own feelings, if she were to come forward to Mathias and reveal to him all that she felt.

She could not bear to be the one responsible to destroy it, just to follow the whims of her heart.

Oftentimes, when she found herself in the company of Antoine and Colette at night, she had often heard the stern woman discussing their history as a family, and something in their past that had left Mathias with the strongest desire to be celibate for the rest of his life.

She never went into details about what happened exactly, and she knew that the reason was her presence, so Dorothea always knew better than to ask any question. She always listened to them, as quietly as a bird hiding in its nest, never daring to intrude, but each time she felt her heart sitting on her stomach a little heavier than before.

“What is going on with me today?” she mumbled beneath her breath.

Her own mood was always somber - that was just the way she naturally was- but today she felt particularly prone to mulling things over in a way that was almost disconcerting.

Taking another deep breath, she allowed her lungs to fill with the intoxicating aroma of the orange and lemon trees, the frangipani in bloom whose flowers Colette often used to create oils for all of them to use. She knew because she recognized the very same perfume on Mathias’ shirt, whenever she went down the river to wash it.

She plucked one of the flowers hanging from the lowest branches, and after taking in that sweet scent, she nestled it behind her ear, a soft smile finally touching her lips. She finally turned around the old orange tree that was growing there - the welcoming sign that she reached Colette’s pomegranate tree, but when the small corner of garden came into view, she stopped in her tracks.

An easel and a canvas stood right beneath the pomegranate tree, sitting alone like two old ladies enjoying the pleasant air of the evening.

Mathias’ own work, no doubt, she thought with a sweet smile.

She looked around with curiosity, expecting to find him somewhere in the proximity: it wasn’t like him at all to abandon his work like that. “Mathias?” she called, just to make sure she was completely alone. And no answer came back to her. She focused her attention once more on the canvas: from where she stood, she couldn’t truly make out what the subject was, and curious like a cat, she tiptoed closer to get a better view of it.

Dorothea’s eyes widened as waves upon waves of mixing emotions-confusion, bewilderment, incredulity- all rippled through her whole body. It took all her control not to let the basket slip from her suddenly unsteady hands.

She wanted to take the canvas to observe it better, because she couldn’t believe what she was looking at, but she dared not: even to her untrained eye, she could see that the paint was still fresh.

Leaning toward it, Dorothea felt her heart racing in her chest. It was yet to be finished: the background merely sketched; the woman’s garments only a vague shape in different shades of pallid pink; even the pose was not definitive, although, from the way the subject was leaning, it suggested that she was caught in the middle of a performance, a fiddle in her hands. However, the subject was not crossed, despite the apparent interruption: the dimples caused by her wide smile were welcoming the observer to sit close by and listen to her playing her tune. Dorothea could almost hear the tune itself in her ears.

Her gaze now wandering again all over the canvas, she couldn’t stop admiring the details of the face: a round visage painted with delicate, meticulous strokes framed by golden white ringlet, each freckle- small as a dot- carefully painted all over her nose and cheek. But it was the woman’s eyes that gave her pause: clear as the water of a pond touched by the sun rays, with the softest expression painted within them as she looked straight in the eyes of the observer, an undisclosed tender request written in that gaze that she recognized all too well.

She felt for a moment as if someone had seen right through her.

“Dorlé? What are you doing here?”

The low gentle voice behind her made her jump in her spot. She turned just to meet Mathias’ dark eyes, now boring straight into hers, a deep crease appearing on his forehead, as he moved a wayward lock of hair away from his brow. Dorothea could have sworn he was almost scared to see her there. But why? “I am sorry, Mathias, I was-“ she babbled, tripping on her own words. “ I swear I did not touch the painting! I was just looking at it! I know I was not supposed to look at it, and I apologized for letting myself do something like this! I-Colette asked me to fetch some pomegranates from her tree for tonight’s dinner and-“ But she couldn’t bear to finish the sentence, as her attention again diverted toward the canvas. She took a tiny step toward it, to make sure that her eyes were not betraying her. And they were not. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Mathias, how-“ she murmured, turning to look toward the man standing just besides her, his shy eyes not daring to meet hers. “This is-” “You.”

His voice was barely a whisper when he raised his worn face, as a tense smile stretched underneath his dark moustache.

His heart was trembling, strong as timpani in his chest.

She wasn’t supposed to see the portrait until it was completely done.

Truth to be told, no one was supposed to see that painting. Ever.

There was nothing indecorous about it, nothing that would elicit a reaction of disdain or be reason of suspicion of impropriety on the artist’s part: no one would deign the portrait as anything less than the most respectful homage to the subject in front of him.

But Mathias so rarely paraded to others what he immortalized on canvas: through his paintings, he bared his soul in ways that couldn’t find purchase through words, and none but himself would be able to understand the yearning in each stroke of his brushes.

And now that the woman for whom his soul has been singing since the instant he had met her was looking upon one of his most intimate creation, he couldn’t do anything but stand terrified that she would read right through him.

As he looked upon her, he felt that his already broken heart quiver in his chest. It was not strong enough to withstand any possible rejection from her. Not from her.

Feeling the unrest grow more and more unbearable with each passing moment, he felt more than ever the need to unroll his sleeves and put his gloves back on, to hide the sight of his scars from her.

He knew she had already seen some of them, somewhat.

After two years of sharing the same house, it would have been impossible to avoid it completely, no matter how much he tried to.

But she had never witness the true extent of those scars, the way they run on his arms, branching through his back, enveloping his chest all the way up until his neck.

Not until that moment, where they were exposed for her eyes -those eyes he loved most in the world- to see. The weight on his chest was becoming too much to bear with each passing second, the lump in his throat impossible to swallow.

“Pardonnez-moi, Dorlé, I need to be alone,” he mumbled under his breath, turning to walk away as he started to unroll his sleeves.

Before he could move any further, Dorothea grabbed him by the arm, quick as a wink, with the gentlest yet firmest touch she could muster.

“Don’t, Mathias. Please.”

Her gaze run to his wide back, to the ink-black leonine curls that hang from his ponytail and barely covered his neck. She felt her heart swelling thrice its size for all she felt for him: she thought she would not be able to breathe anymore.

“Do not run away from me. Do not…” she swallowed hard, chest heaving. “Do not hide away from me. Please, Mathis…I beg of you.”

Her voice was pleading, a soft prayer.

Mathias’ breath caught in the lump in his throat when he felt her hands against the skin of his arm, a touch like a blazing fire for all it caused within his soul.

He stopped in his track, docile as a lamb, as he always was when she requested anything from him. She could ask him to bare his life for her, and he would do it without even thinking twice about it.

His chest tightened at the thought, as he comprehended how the immensity of the love he felt for her ran through from his heart to all his being.

He couldn’t stop a small sour smile from touching his lips: had Antoine known of his thoughts, she would be so immensely crossed with him, for he had learned nothing from Emmanuelle.

But how could he?

How could he love Dorothea less than she deserved because of what happened to him? Because of something another caused?

How could he let his past dictate his present like this, and ruin those feelings that actually made him feel alive again?

How could he deny what was in his heart, broken as it was, just because he had the misfortune of not meeting her first?

Dorothea. Dora. Dottie. Dorlé.

His Dorlé, he thought with quivering lip, if only he found the courage to breathe into existence what his eyes couldn’t conceal anymore any longer.

His out-of-time love, who had fallen into his life so suddenly and yet had fitted immediately as if she had belonged there with them.

With him.

The very tune of life that made his soul sing again.

He wanted to turn. To look at her and drink from that face he loved in the same way the moon loved the sun at each eclipse, in those few desperate moments where they shared the sky together, entangled in an embrace for one refulgent minute.

But he couldn’t find the courage.

Despite his absolute terror for fire, he thought it would be easier to run in a house put ablaze than turning to look at the woman he loved, for fear to see pity -or worse, disgust- in her eyes.

He took another deep breath, trying to calm himself.

Dorothea felt those breaths and her hands trembled, her whole being quivering when he still wouldn’t turn to face her.

She lost courage, but just for one moment, before she felt her natural determination surging from the deepest parts of her heart, tingling in her fingers like pure fire.

She hadn’t survived in 1790s France just out of dumb luck: she knew that she had to steel herself, if she was to ever find a way to get through that time that was so close to hers, and yet so vastly different.

She was her mother and father’s daughter: they had defied her own grandfathers’ will, Count Bielke and Robert Starrick, to marry each other and create the foundation of their family in England.

“Mother’s mirror, Father’s Pride”.

That’s how Byron would often refer to her, whenever she was in doubt.

She would not give up.

Not when her own heart was at stake. And stubborn she was, and so completely lost for him, she felt she couldn’t reason rationally any longer.

She finally found the courage in herself to do what needed to be done.

Gently, almost hesitantly as he was still turned away from her, she moved her own hand from his wrist to his own hand, brushing his palm with delicate touch before interlacing their fingers together.

All she could focus on was how warm his touch was. How gentle those hands always were whenever he pressed the keys of the piano, or patted the horses when he thanked them for carrying them around in the afternoon or when he took her hand and he led her in a round of minuet.

She looked at the scars on the forearms as well, following the course of their pattern with sad eyes.

How much did he suffer from them?

She remember getting burned once, as a child, while playing too close to the fireplace in Dover, and it had only been a small patch on her wrist where some cinder had landed; but it had been enough to make her feel unbearable pain and made her still want to cry whenever she thought about it.

She could scarcely imagine that pain multiplied tenfold and on so much of his body.

She could scarcely imagine withstanding against it, dueling with death’s grasp tight as a coil, and despite all odds, ending up victorious.

Dorothea smiled, understanding in full the pride Antoine always felt for Mathias whenever she talked about those scars.

Before she could let her own timidity stop her, she finally leaned against his back fully, gently pushing herself against his lean frame, and wrapped her arms around his waist, enveloping him in the sweetest embrace she could muster, with all the strength her body allowed.

Such strong heart, he had. Such strong, gentle heart that nothing -not even pain, not even death- could render of stone or insensible. And how she loved that heart with all that she was.

She laid her cheek against his shirt, completely flushed against him, determined as she was in not even letting the air they breathed to stand between them, just so that she could hear the strong thumping of that heart against her own skin.

Mathias’s lips parted, as he almost gasped for breath at that touch, feeling his soul tremble in his chest like one of the chords of Dorothea’s violin.

“How can you hide away your hands from me? Those hands that can create such beauty, even when there is none to be found?” she murmured, feeling a tear running down her cheek. “Those hands that are capable of giving so much comfort to those who are in pain, even when you have no comfort nor piety to spare for yourself?”

He had no words to give, no answer for her questions. His whole mind was abuzz, unable as he was to focus on anything but her closeness, his eyes trained on their fingers interlaced together. A violinist hands enveloping the grotesque hands of a gargoyle, he thought bitterly. He tried to regulate his breathing, to be as still as water in a pond on a tranquil day, almost terrified that, if he were to move, she would let go of him. Then, he heard her voice resonating all the way through his chest, as if reverberating from his own very soul.

“Mathias…how can you feel so much shame in front of me? I could never think any less of you for what you bear on your skin. How could I? You, who are the one most dear to me in the entire world?You have given to me from the heart from the first moment we met, without asking any question, without asking for anything in return. Even when the only explanation I had to give for what happened to me was impossible to comprehend and absurd at the very best, you believed me and helped me finding a sense amidst my own confusion. You made sure I was never to feel loneliness nor want, not even for one moment.”

She whispered, hiding her burning face against his shirt. “Can’t you understand what you mean to me? Can’t you understand how you make my heart sing? Can’t you understand that all my sorrows end with you? Can’t you feel how much I love you?”

It was done. Despite all her senses whispering to her to stay silent, she couldn’t any longer. Not when everything that made her soul was shouting at her his name over and over again.

Mathias wished he had a better control of his breathing or the butterflies he felt in his stomach at her words. Instead, he could only blink, to keep the tears of absolute bliss from falling from his eyes.

He felt as if paralyzed: How- HOW- could it be? How could fate finally have turned to his favour, and granted him the one desire he had found himself wanting more and more with each passing day spent beside her?

Dorothea let out a melancholic at the silence still lingering between them. Maybe she was wrong in opening her heart like that: she didn’t want to ruin the friendship between them, even if it meant loving him without being loved in return. She had never fallen in love before, so what did she really know about love, if not what she had read in her books? What did she know about love, if not about Isolde and Tristan? About Lancelot and Guineviere, whose love trascended time and space? She slightly released her grasp, ready to let him go: but Mathias' hands wrapped around her own, firm like she never experienced before despite his usual cautioun, silenty stopping her from leaving his side.

Mathias took a deep breath and calling upon all the courage he could find within himself, turned around, to finally face the woman that had just opened her heart to him.

Quivering under his dark moustache, his lips stretched in a soft, sweet smile that painted his face with a softness he so rarely showed to others.

His dark eyes shone with tears - tears of joy - that he could barely repress, as he looked at the woman in front of him and found in her eyes the same countenance that was in his.

He cupped her round face with trembling hands, tentatively, terrified she would retract from the touch of his maimed skin.

Instead, gentle as a lamb, he saw Dorothea nestling her cheek in his palm, nuzzling against it like a cat would, and his heart throbbed in his throat at that gesture.

She didn’t retract herself from his touch. She wanted to be touched by him. She sought to feel his skin against hers. She wanted him.

“Do I scare you so much, Mathias? I promise I do not bite.” She jested, smiling that crooked smile he adored so much. Mathias let out a nervous laughter, one finally born out of relief. “How could I ever be scared of you? You, the sweetness of every single one of my thoughts? The only dream I dare to dream while wide awake? My answer to the endless prayers I raised to a deaf God each night of my life since after the fire?”he murmured, feeling a tear rolling down his cheek ”Dorothea…tú eres mis alas para volar,”

Dorothea’s heart skipped at his words, her head spinning as if drunk just from the sound of his voice, filled as it was with heart-wrenching yearning.

“I-I am?” she breathed, incredulous.

He dared to lay his forehead against hers, cradling her face in his strong hands, finally daring to look straight into her eyes without having to hide anything anymore, without having to steal longing glances whenever her attention was diverted. He finally saw the colour of her irises, in that summer sunset that was their witness, in that garden that had nothing less than the garden of Eden.

“You are. You have turned all my tears into laughter. The solace I feel with when I sit besides you…the hope, the possibilities that my life is not just the cinder and embers left from that fire, but that it can also be rebuilt into something new. Something as beautiful as the breaking of dawn after a long night without a star twinkling in the sky…I thought I had lost it all a long time ago.”

He brought her face even closer to his, until they were just a breath away from each other’s lips. He felt tears rolling down his cheeks and, to his surprise, saw the same tears falling from Dorothea’s eyes. But there was no sadness in her gaze. Only unbridled joy. The same one he felt in every single bone of his body.

“But you, mi amor, mi vida, mi alma…You are the peace of my soul, and the light of my poor broken heart,” he murmured. “I see God in your smile and sanctuary in your eyes; I hear my soul reaching to your voice, resonating as if it finally found the answer to its call. I see my home in your heart… I see my everything in you.” He stopped just for one moment, leaning even closer to her. “In you, I see the reason for my every breath.”

Dorothea felt all air leaving her chest, mouth agape from those words that she never thought he would whisper to her ears. Allowing her heart to finally dictated his will, she covered the remaining distance between them, throwing her arms around his shoulder before pressing a sweet, innocent kiss against his lips, those same lips she had yearned to kiss for almost a year and a half. Mathias felt a chasm opening in his stomach at that kiss, so soft and giving, yet unmistakeably eager for more and more, a kiss that was as wanted as much as it was yearned and needed and desired. He returned each of her kisses with his own, his hands cradling the back of her head so that no distance would stand between them., in between those kisses. Among those trees, in that small corner of Eden that he never thought to find on Earth, Mathias felt the perennial storm that always raged within slowly losing strength, the winds of his pain that often howled at his memories finally quieting down until only a comforting silence remained, as if something, a shield of some sort, was wrapped around his heart and kept those wolves at bay. It is her, he thought. His Dorlé. All of sudden, Mathias felt a small giggle against his lips and opened his eyes, looking at Dorothea with curiosity. “It tickles,” she whispered under her breath, nuzzling the tip of her nose against his upper lip, just below his dark moustache, the instigator of her mirth. Mathias chuckled with her, his eyes crinkling as he kissed the tip of her nose. “I used to sport a clean-shaven look in my youth. Perhaps, you would prefer me without my moust-“ But she stopped in his track when she saw her furrowing her brows, in a look that, he knew, she mastered from observing Antoine herself. “Do not dare to touch your beard and moustache, Mathis, or I shall be immensely crossed with you,” she murmured with a perentory tone that admitted no contradiction, but that was soon betrayed by a smile that brightened her whole face." I love the way you are, Mathis. I do not wish for you to be any different than you are, in any aspect of life," “As Milady wishes,"Mathias laughed, planting another sweet kiss on her nose and forehead, before interlacing their fingers once more. "Far from me to make my love crossed with me.” Dorothea blushed at his word, and Mathias, feeling some of the cheekiness that was usually Colette’s, nuzzled his nose against hers. “Does it please you, when I call you that? My Love? Mon amour?...Mi Amor?" Dorothea wanted to maintain an air of decorum, collected as she always was, but the shivers of pleasure that ran along her spine hindered her effort, when she heard him whispering to her in his native Spanish. All she could muster was a shy nod, before hiding her flaming face against his shoulder, in a gesture that illicited the most profound sweetness in Mathias' heart.

He kissed the crown of her head, breathing in the soft perfume of the flower she weaved in her tresses, in a sigh of relief that weighted on his chest for far too many years.

"Mathis?" he heard her call him, raising her timid eyes once more.

"Yes, mi amor?" he said again, chuckling when he saw her blushing again: he would never call her anything else, if it meant seeing her cheeks turning as red as apples.

"Will you-" he heard her clearing her throat. "Will you look at the stars with me, tonight?"

Mathias tilted her face so that she could look at him once more, his gaze turning even softer as he counted all the freckles that graced her face.

His own stars on the sky that was her gentle visage.

"Every night of our life, if you wishes," he whispered, daring to brush his lips against hers one last time.

Dorothea's own happiness couldn't be contained at his words, as she allowed herself to get lost in his kisses once again.

"I do, my love. For every night of our life."

From Antoine´s room, Colette was smiling widely, as she sat on the windowsill, her leg hanging outside the window as she swing it with almost childish joy. She could not hear a single word her brother and Dorothea were saying. She could not see them, hidden as they were by the branches of the tall trees that surrounded that particular corner of the garden. But Antoine’s look -her face strangely at peace as she perused in the same direction she was watching- was more than enough to tell her that her plan succeeded. And no greater joy could fill her heart, for in knowing that her dearest companion and her adored brother had finally found one another, she felt her soul at peace. “See, Toinette?” she giggled as she poured some wine in two glasses, one for herself and one for her elder sister. “I might not be an Assassin and have your perception, but I might know a thing or two about Love and its whims,” Antoine chuckled, her lips stretching in a smile. “I’ll concede that, pollita: you know your stuff.” she took the glass of wine that her sister offered, and drank it all in one shot, “So you better start preparing a list for a nuptial banquet, because if I know Mathias- and trust me, I know him- it won’t be long before we are going to celebrate a wedding in our house, and even less long before we will be hearing the pitter patter of tiny feet running around the house…unless you and the that reprobate of Novice Dorian aren’t planning on beating them on time? “ Colette sputtered some of the wine she was drinking, turning as red as the ribbon she had tied around her neck. “How do you-“ Antoine let out a throaty laughter, filled with mirth. “Oh, pollita: you sure as hell are one expert of “Love and its whims”,” the Master Assassin took the bottle and again filled her glass with wine.”-but you have still a lot to learn about discretion,” She leaned toward her younger sister, and toasted to that evening summer. “To your health, Colette,” then she raised her glass in Mathias and Dorothea’s direction. “And to them. May the fate be kinder to both of them, this time around.” Colette giggled, joining her sister in her toast. “It will. Because this time, we will be there to make sure of that!” “How can you be so sure we will succeed, Colette”? The young woman laughed with mirth. “Because if there is something I learned, is that even Fate Itself is terrified of you, when it comes to Mathias!”

AND THERE YOU HAVE IT.

ALMOST 9K WORDS OF PURE FLUFF, INTROSPECTION AND WHATNOT.

But not going to lie, I love writing this.

It gave me the chance to finally give a voice to my Unity darlings, and by the Gods, this renders me incredibly happy.

Thank you, Susie, for suggesting me to write about Mathias and Dorothea <3

I hope you all will like this <3

--Nemo

[stormdash2]

How Sally Acorn and The Freedom Fighters can work in a Sonic game.

This is a little essay I want to make on how Sally Acorn and The Freedom Fighters can potentially work in a Sonic game.

Brief summary. Sally Acorn is a character from the Sonic the Hedgehog Archie comics, and is especially known for being in the Sonic the Hedgehog cartoon, dubbed by fans as Sonic SatAM.

The characters of Sally Acorn, Bunnie Rabbot, Rotor the Walrus and Antoine D'Coolette are characters exclusive to this show as well as the spin-off comics. They are part of a group known as The Freedom Fighters, which also consists of Sonic himself as well as Tails. Their goal is to liberate their world from the tyrannical Doctor Robotnik, better known as Doctor Eggman, the main antagonist of the games.

These characters were made for the show, but I believe they can work in the game setting. It just requires a bit of tweaking to have them fit the Sonic Team vision, and this is how I would go about it.

Let's start with the gameplay, as that is the most important part of a Sonic game obviously, or any video game for that matter. Now, obviously in most Sonic games, Sonic is playable. In those games he runs at high speeds, hence his name. The gameplay reflects that perfectly. This has been a thing since the first Sonic game on the Sega Genesis.

Any games where one of his friends are playable usually have that friend running at high speeds. Examples include Tails in Sonic 2. When he's tagging along with Sonic, he's keeping up with his speed, or on his own, he has to show that same speed in gameplay.

This continued through the Genesis games with the introduction of Knuckles, and into the Adventure games with characters like Shadow. Some characters do have slower gameplay, like Amy Rose does in Sonic Adventure, but it's still speedy in its own right. Amy definitely has quite a boost in speed by Sonic Heroes.

The point I'm getting at is this. If Sally were to be in the games, there's two ways to go about it. One way is making her an NPC. Sally does not have the speed or abilities that the game cast have. So putting her in a traditional Sonic level would make her feel out of place.

Could she be given powers? Absolutely. But I feel like it messes with her charm. Her being a normal character should not be a bad thing. No one had a problem with Batman being in the Justice League. Sally has plenty of strengths, even if not in gameplay. She can appear in cutscenes, give orders, or anything. Not every major character in a video game is playable, and that extends to the Sonic franchise. Tikal didn't need to be playable to be important in Sonic Adventure 1 after all.

If anyone was going to be playable in a Sonic level, it would be Bunnie Rabbot. She has the cybernetically enhanced limbs and could speed and power her way through a Sonic level.

However if Sally were to be playable, an option would be to give her specifically designed levels that focus on her slower gameplay. It could even be stealth based. Think about the levels in the game, Sly Cooper. Sally could sneak around and gather intel to assist her team, and use stealth takedowns on enemies, or just fight.

Another feature would include having Nicole present in some form, either as a computer or in her Lynx form. She can even have a role similar to Omochao in which she would explain the controls or give hints throughout the levels.

Option two is this. A Sonic RPG. We've already had Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood, but I think another Sonic RPG is due. Especially given that Sega owns Atlus, who are famous for the Persona franchise. An RPG is a great way to introduce The Freedom Fighters.

With an RPG gameplay, you don't have to worry about how characters can keep up or not. Everyone is at an even playing field. This is assuming that it's a turn-based RPG, like Persona, or the original Final Fantasy games. (And Sonic Chronicles too of course).

Most RPGs don't have that many people in a single party, so you'd still need to pick and choose. Chronicles was generous with eleven characters. So I'll bump it to twelve. My picks would be Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Amy, Shadow, Rouge, Silver, Blaze, Sally, Bunnie, Antoine and Rotor. We can have cameos from characters like Rosie, Dulcy, Uncle Chuck and Lupe. This in addition to the game characters of course.

The RPG route could be interesting, as it could allow for a mechanic known as The Affinity System. This system has been used in Final Fantasy 7 and Tales of Symphonia, and is particularly featured in Fire Emblem, and even the Sega owned Persona.

The affinity system allows for character bonds to grow through gameplay and side quests. This could be a fun way to show how friendships develop among the Sonic characters, and be a good way to show a bond when it comes to the Freedom Fighters. There's another reason that I will get into in a bit.

Another idea is to make a fighting game. It would be a Sonic Fighters type deal where characters from across the Sonic Universe could fight. And why limit it there? Sega could feature characters from across the multiverse, which includes SatAM.

Sega has what it takes to make a Sonic 3D Fighter after all. They have the Virtua Fighter team with nothing to do. Honestly it'd be funny if characters like Akira Yuki or Jacky Bryant made playable appearances.

Then again, having humans fighting Mobians (or whatever Sonic's game franchise calls these characters) might be troubling. Anyone who remembers the Star Wars characters in Soul Calibur 4 knows from experience how hard it is fighting a small character like Yoda.

Still, a fighting game featuring Sonic characters can work. It again puts them on even ground, and power doesn't need to match. You see games like Dragon Ball FighterZ or the Marvel vs Capcom games having crazy looking matchups that don't make sense, but it's a game so you don't have to think too hard on it. So long as the characters fit, then it's fine.

Be it a 3D fighter, or a 2D fighter, either way it could be fun to see the Freedom Fighters in a fighting game.

This mainly applies to the SatAM Freedom Fighters. Anyone from Archie could be troubling given the copyright issues. Not all characters have this, those like Fiona Fox and Mina Mongoose could theoretically come back. It depends on what Sega wants, but if they were willing to bring them back, that would be a plus. Mina and Fiona deserve a better story than they got in Archie Comics, and being adapted by Sega could be the fresh start they need.

I'm not opposed to other making it into the games, be it Cosmo from Sonic X, or Tangle and Whisper from IDW. They can all co-exist in the Sonic gaming franchise along with other characters.

Now to get to characterization. There's a difference between Sonic in the games, and Sonic in SatAM and the comics. Japan portrays Sonic as very humble compared to how the West Portray him.

In Archie, Sonic is very full of himself and a bit egotistical. He's very likely to smack talk someone. He's got a larger ego, and plays up the who superhero thing.

This is opposite of what Sonic Team sees Sonic as. Yes in the Japanese versions of Sonic Adventure 1 and 2, he had something of an ego, and was rude, but he became pretty humble by the end of SA2 and from there, he's had a friendlier demeanor.

Why do I bring this up? In SatAM, Sally's thing was constantly telling Sonic what to do and keeping him from being immature. Sally wouldn't need to do that in the games because Sonic is already mature, so their dynamic changes.

Also, Sonic is not really one to be bound by this stuff. He's not a superhero type like Western Media likes to portray. (A misunderstanding he has in common with Goku). He always does his own thing.

Now I know I said Sonic's not a superhero, but I will use them to make the comparison. While the Freedom Fighters are duty bound like The Avengers, Sonic and his friends are like The Fantastic Four. They're more explorers than heroes, they just happen to do good things.

So while Sonic is chill and more mature than in the games, Sally can still find Sonic irritating since like SatAM and Archie, he does what he wants. Difference is that Western Sonic would brag about doing what he wants while Game Sonic just does it without the need to explain himself.

Sonic and Sally would have different dynamic. I can see her trying to get him to do what she wants him to do, but he's giving her a hard time. But he's nicer than Archie, and he's usually more respectful to girls, so he may try to explain himself at some point, only if he wants to.

Romance would not likely be there either. Sega does not want Sonic in a relationship, and honestly if they do go that route for him, he'd likely be with Amy.

I can see Sally crushing on Sonic, but it would be one-sided. He wouldn't return the affection and Sally may eventually give up. But the respect would still be there.

Also bear in mind, if Sally does become part of the games, that doesn't mean she'll be a main character. At most she'd be a side character and only appear when needed.

Backstories would need to change too. Sally may not be a Princess this time around, but Knothole can exist on an island where Sally is the mayor's daughter or something. Keeps it political for her and she is somewhat a Princess. It can even be a nickname.

Roboticization doesn't exist in the games, so Bunnie being a cyborg would either be due to an accident, or it could be an Iron Man situation where she was given robotic limbs. Rotor could build them.

Antoine could just be a knight. He may or may not be married to Bunnie at first, but that's not something I want to see rushed, so it's better off being alluded to. If anything, just say they're dating.

Nicole is tough. The original plans for her was that she was once Mobian, then had her brain uploaded into that computer. She gains a physical form again, but comes back as a child and becomes a daughter figure to Sally.

Nicole could essentially be Sally's little buddy like Tails is for Sonic if they choose to go that route.

Or she could be older and just be Sally's best friend, or even her sister either by blood or via adoption. I would personally go with the adoption route, it adds a bit more to their friendship without having to add too much exhibition.

It could be a simple game, either one of the classics, because the Freedom Fighters just fit well in those, or modern, which works too. Whether they already knew Sonic or just met him is another thing to consider.

If you go with them already knowing him, it'd need to be done carefully. Like Sonic met them once but didn't stick around. He lost contact with them because they couldn't keep up. Sonic's friends stick around because they could keep up.

But that's their relationship. Sally may not have a deep bond with Sonic, or Tails for that matter, but such is the way it is for Sonic games.

Though going back to the affinity thing I mentioned for the JRPG, theoretically that can be used as an excuse to have romance. Build a bond and slowly have the two fall in love. It doesn't even need to be with Sally though, you can have Sonic fall for Amy. You can have Sonally or Sonamy, and the best part, it doesn't need to be canon. Both can be what-ifs, similar to Final Fantasy when it came to Cloud with Tifa or with Aerith. Or the many possible Fire Emblem pairings.

This could be Sega just testing the waters to see how romance would be handled. If they want, they can even give Sonic an option to be with Blaze. Sonaze fans should be happy too.

Even so, let's say Sonic is meant to be with Amy. Personally, I say don't pair Sally with anyone. Though if she absolutely had to be paired with someone, I'd say maybe Mighty or Ray since they're game characters who can fit the Freedom Fighter aesthetics well. (Personally, I vote for Ray. Chipmunk and Squirrel.)

Oh, and I suppose I should discuss her wardrobe. I'll keep it simple, I don't see why Sega would need to give her clothes, I always found that double standard weird. Why is it okay for guys to go without pants but it's not okay for girls? I don't think any other game or franchise with anthro characters have that issue. Either everyone worse mostly clothes or no one did.

But if Sega feels the need to put clothes on her, then fine, no big deal. Just make sure they look good. Don't force it like the reboot did.

But that's my take. Sally can work in the games with effort, and Sega just needs to try. The key is getting her popular enough for Sega of Japan to consider her. But Honestly, having Sally in the games would be a great service. Sega has done great services lately, such as bring back Sonic's friends for games like Superstars and promising to bring back older franchises like Jet Set Radio and Streets of Rage.

I know SatAM has a different vibe from the games, but considering Sega's fine with The Diamond Cutters in IDW that do similar stuff like the Freedom Fighters do, and the fact that Sonic Forces had this rebellion thing, Sega's willing to go this route.

Mario has done similar with characters like Pauline in Mario Odyssey and Daisy in Super Mario Bros wonder. Sonic needs to keep up this kind of momentum. Let's keep up this momentum. We'll Rally for Sally as they say.

Thank you for reading.

[subiysu-chan]

Anne-Marthe Dubut, character sheet

Date of birth: around 1682

Motivations: To keep the office of executor of Paris within the Sanson family and to preserve the legacy of Charles Sanson II, her first husband.

Belief: In addition to being a practicing Catholic, Anne-Marthe Dubut deeply believed that the office of executor of Paris was the right and divine duty of the Sanson family. A priesthood and a family creed.

History:

Anne-Marthe Dubut is the daughter of a cooper, Pierre Dubut, and the youngest of the family. The Dubut family lived in honest poverty until, by unfortunate chance, Pierre Antoine Dubut, Marthe's brother, became assistant executor, then executor in Melun. After the death of Pierre Dubut, life became hell for Jeanne-Renée (the older sister) and Anne-Marthe. Finding it difficult to find work, and forced to move to the most disreputable neighborhoods, the two sisters deprived themselves of food to delay as long as possible the moment when they would be forced to prostitute themselves to survive. They also had to sell their hair.

It was by a happy coincidence that Jeanne Renée found the path of the old executioner Charles Sanson. They ended up loving each other without passion, and married. Anne-Marthe was invited to live with them. There, she met the son, also named Charles, who fell in love with her. Anne-Marthe ended up returning his affections, and the two became husband and wife in 1707. Three children crowned the happy union: Anne-Renée, Charles-Jean-Baptiste and Nicolas-Charles-Gabriel. The couple took some time before having children, since Anne-Marthe had to recover from malnutrition and the couple considered it more responsible that she learn the customs of her new environment before becoming a mother, and finally, they both wanted to enjoy a little the life of a rich couple without children.

This time of happiness ended in 1726, with the death of Charles Sanson II. Since then, Anne-Marthe devoted her existence to ensuring that the letters of provision of her eldest son were respected, then to keep the position in the family.

Personality: Anne-Marthe is someone very determined and proud. Also, she is a more than loving mother, capable of many sacrifices. She is also an opportunistic and very intelligent woman, using mainly cunning to achieve her ends. However, she does not tolerate any resistance from her children to her dynastic ambitions, and the slightest disbelief in the "religion of the scaffold", and is capable of quite strong violence. She is ready to do anything to keep the office of executioner of Paris within the Sanson family.

Physical appearance: Anne-Marthe is a woman of average height with beautiful hard features and steely blue eyes. Since the death of her husband, she almost never takes off her mourning clothes.

[natureismynature]

October truly is the month of the French speaking streamers <3 They. Are. DOMINATING with the lore!!! They are so cool!!! Now we just gotta wait for Antoine's computer to cooperate so we can get his lore too <3

(Currently foaming at the mouth with Baghera lore rn)

[book--brackets]

Summaries under the cut

Jill's Ponies by Ruby Ferguson

Jill unexpectedly finds herself the proud owner of Farmer Clay's piebald pony. But that's when her problems begin because ponies are expensive. Where will she find the money?

The Strictest School in the World by Howard Whitehouse

 14-year-old pioneering aviatrix Emmaline Cayley is afraid of one plummeting to her doom. Fortunately, 12-year-old Robert Burns, an indestructible village boy, is not. Absurdly unafraid of bodily harm, "Rubberbones" is the ideal pilot for Emmaline's experiments with flight. But before Emmaline can perfect a flying machine with the aid of her new friend, she is sent off to St. Grimelda's School for Young Ladies -- to be cured of her decidedly unladylike ways. It is a school so strict, so severe, so forbidding that it makes the brutal misery in the tales of Charles Dickens look cheery by comparison. With a horrifying headmistress, terrifying teachers and food that is even worse than Aunt Lucy's, this medieval stronghold also houses a terrible secret and a mysterious way of keeping its prisoners, er, its students in line. All Emmaline can think of is escape. But no one has ever escaped from St. Grimelda's. And our heroine soon realizes that the only way out is to face her greatest fear.

TJ Young & the Orishas by Antoine Bandele

Fourteen-year-old TJ grew up normal in a secret community of gifted diviners in the heart of modern-day Los Angeles. His powerful sister was ordained to lead his people into a new age of prosperity, but her mysterious death in Nigeria threatens to destroy the very foundations of TJ's world.

Desperate to pick up where his sister left off and uncover the secrets behind her questionable death, TJ commits himself to unlocking the magical heritage that has always eluded him. So he enrolls in Camp Olosa-a remedial magic school for the divinely less-than-gifted in the humid swamps of New Orleans.

But little does he know, TJ is destined to cross paths with powerful spirits of old thought lost to the orishas.

Confessions of a So-Called Middle Child by Maria T. Lennon

Confessions of a So-Called Middle Child stars the hilariously cheeky reformed bully and tween hacker Charlie Cooper as she tries to ditch her middle-child reputation and make cool friends at her new school in Los Angeles. But being cool isn't as easy as it looks. Charlie has to face down the mean girls and decide between right and wrong once and for all when she learns the terrible truth behind Marta the Farta's bad attitude and loner status. And Charlie has to do it all in outfits meant for the runways!

Unicorns of the Mist by R. R. Russel

Deep in the heart of a mist-shrouded island, an impossible secret is about to be discovered.

Twig is used to feeling unwanted. Sent to live on a pony ranch for "troubled" girls on a misty, haunted island, Twig is about to discover the impossible — someone who needs her. Jolted awake from a bad dream, Twig follows the desperate whinny of a terrified horse out to the stables. There in the straw is a bleating little scrap of moonbeam. A silver-white filly with cloven hooves and a tiny, spiraling horn.

A baby unicorn.

Now Twig knows what secret is hiding in the island's mist: the last free unicorn herd. And a mysterious boy named Ben who insists that this impossible creature is now Twig's to care for. That she needs Twig's love and protection. Because there's something out there in the deep, dense shadows that's hunting for them...

Beatrice Bailey by Sandra Forrester

Beatrice Bailey is tall, skinny, and about to turn twelve years old. On that birthday she will get her official classification as a witch. But will she be named an ordinary Everyday Witch or a specially empowered Classical Witch? When the big day arrives, the Witches' Executive Committee can't decide how to classify her. At last, they agree that her Maximum Magic Level must be tested, and to pass the test she must break a spell that has been cast by the evil sorcerer, Dally Rumpe. Thus begins Beatrice's series of adventures. Breaking the spell takes Beatrice and her three best friends to several dangerous realms within the witches' sphere. In this tale, their main challenge is to get past an enchanted hedge of thorns and a fire-breathing dragon to undo the spell that has cast the land in snow and ice. Author Sandra Forrester promises further bewitching adventures in books to come. In each adventure, Beatrice makes new friends who help her when she goes on to face dangerous new encounters.

The Armourer's House by Rosemary Sutcliffe

If only she'd been born a boy, Tamsyn would never have been sent away to Uncle Gideon's - the armourer's - house when her grandmother died. She could have stayed by the wild sea that she loved with her Uncle Martin, the ship merchant.But instead, she is bound for busy, bustling Tudor London, and the armourer's house, far from the coast and far from her beloved ships. Homesick and lonely in the loud family of cousins, it isn't until she meets the strange old Wise Woman that Tamsyn is finally promised her "heart's desire"...

You Be the Jury by Marvin Miller

The reader is provided evidence for ten courtroom cases and must decide whether each defendant is guilty or innocent.

The O'Clock Tales by Enid Blyton

A magical collection of over forty tales. Join Sneaky the elf as he steals a growing spell and gets a terrible fright; or Snip and Snap the brownies as they play a trick on the Red Goblin; or lazy Kate as her bed takes her to school!

Cat School (or Goyangi Hakyo) by Kim Jin Kyung

Beodeul is a cat, and the story is about the cat school where Beodeul goes and learns how to live together with humans. It also tells of his travels to Japan, China, and India.

[sexymonstersupercreep]

Nightmare Fuel Art Master-post, Vol. I

Regularly updated!

15th Century

Gerard David Hans Holbein Hans Memling Hieronymous Bosch Lucas Cranach the Elder Matthias Grunewald Titian

16th Century

Adriaen van de Venne Artemisia Gentileschi Filippo Napoletano Hans Baldung Grien Herri Met de Bles Jacopo Ligozzi Jan Mandijn Jan Massys Pieter Bruegel the Elder

17th Century

Caravaggio Francesco Furini Frans Francken II Juan de Valdes Leal Jusepe de Ribera Leonaert Bramer Peter Paul Rubens Salvator Rosa 18th Century

Edvard Munch Francisco de Goya Henry Fuseli J.M.W. Turner Karl Alexander Wilke Katsushika Hokusai Paolo Vincenzo Bonomini William Blake

19th Century

Amedee-Ernest Lynen Antoine Wiertz Armand Rassenfosse Arnold Bocklin Carlos Schwabe Edmond Louis Dupain Felicien Rops Francesco Scaramuzza Franz von Stuck Georges Rochegrosse George Frederic Watts Gustave Dore Gustave Moreau Henri Regnault Ilya Repin Jakub Schikaneder James Tissot Jean Francois Millet Jean Leon Gerome Jean Paul Laurens Jean Veber Jeno Gyarfas Jose Casado del Alisal Laszlo Mednyanszky Louis Gallait Maximilian Pirner Odilon Redon Paul Burck Theodore Gericault Theodor Kittelsen Theophile Schuler Tsukioka Yoshitoshi Wilhelm Kotarbinski William Holbrook Beard Witold Wojtkiewicz

“Turn of the Century” Alberto Martini Alfred Kubin Antonio Rizzi Egon Schiele Frantisek Kupka Fritz Gareis Georges Desvallieres Harry Clarke Heinrich Kley Henryk Weyssenhoff James Ensor Jaroslav Panuska Jean Delville Josef Mandl Julien Adolphe-Duvocelle Kathe Kollwitz Manuel Orazi Marian Wawrzeniecki Oscar Parviainen Piotr Stachiewicz Richard Tennant Cooper Sascha Schneider Sergius Hruby Wladyslaw Podkowinski Vasily Vereshchagin

[lunar-bat]

- Tarot 101:The Basics -

‣ Tarot is a divination tool consisting of (usually) a deck of 78 cards primarily used for spiritual guidance and tapping into your intuition in order to understand and reflect on what is happening in your life. Tarot has origins dating back to the 15th century, being commonly used as a card game and wasn't introduced as a divination tool until later on around 18th century. Occultists such as Antoine Court de Gébelin and Jean-Baptiste Alliette (known by the pseudonym "Etteilla") authored books that advocated the utilization of Tarot cards as a means of divination and personal exploration. Rider - Waite Tarot ‣ The Rider-Waite deck is one of the most popular and influential decks,usually recommended for beginners. Arthur Edward Waite collaborated with artist Pamela Colman Smith, both of whom were members of the Golden Dawn, to produce the Rider-Waite deck, which was initially released in 1909. The Major and Minor Arcana

‣ A standard deck consists of 78 cards, divided into two main categories: Major and Minor Arcana. The Major Arcana consists of 22 cards representing life lessons, karmic influences and big themes. The Minor Arcana is made up of 56 cards, divided into four suits: Pentacles (or coins),Cups,Swords and Wands. Each suit has 14 cards, including 10 numbered cards and 4 court cards (Page,Knight,Queen and King).

The four suits ‣ Pentacles - representing the element of earth and are associated with material possessions and the financial aspects of life, but can also signify emotional and spiritual prosperity as well. ‣ Cups - represent the element of water and are associated with the emotional aspects of ourselves. Cups cards often deal with matters of the heart, including love, relationships, emotions, and personal connections. ‣ Swords - representing the element of air and are associated with communication,intellect,conflicts,decision-making etc. They can indicate intellectual clarity or inner turmoil. ‣ Wands - representing the element of fire and are associated with creativity, passion,action and determination. Wands cards are strongly associated with creative endeavors, the pursuit of goals and projects and seizing opportunities.

Numerical association ‣ The numbered cards represent different stages or aspects of the suit's energy. Here's a brief overview: Ace - The Ace represents potential, new beginnings and opportunities Two - The Two cards represent balance, duality and choice making Three - The Threes are associated with growth, expansion and creative expression Four - foundation, structure, stability, manifestations Five - challenges, change, instability, conflict Six - harmony, cooperation, nurturing, balance Seven - introspection, spirituality, assessment, wisdom Eight - accomplishment, abundance, action, power Nine - attainment, fruition, fulfillment Ten - completion, end of a cycle, renewal

Spreads ‣ The specific layout of the cards is called a spread,where each placement provides an answer to a specific aspect of a question. Some most commonly used and spreads include the three card spread, five card spread and the Celtic Cross.

I'll dive into the individual meanings of the cards in another post but this is pretty much a summary of the basics. Hope it helps :)

[myawesomemovielist]

my awesome movie list of 2015:

the danish girl  (dir. tom hooper)

youth  (dir. paolo sorrentino)

brooklyn  (dir. john crowley)

carol  (dir. todd haynes)

bessie (dir. ron schmidt)

macbeth  (dir. justin kurzel)

sicario  (dir. denis villeneuve)

mad max: fury road (dir. george miller)

southpaw  (dir. antoine fuqua)

bridge of spies  (dir. steven spielberg)

beasts of no nation  (dir. cary joji fukunaga)

steve jobs  (dir. danny boyle)

black mass  (dir. scott cooper)

the lobster (dir. yorgos lanthimos)

room  (dir. lenny abrahamson)

the big short  (dir. adam mckay)

miles ahead  (dir. don cheadle)

demolition (dir. jean marc vallee)

the revenant  (dir. alejandro iñarritu)

our brand is crisis  (dir. david gordon green)

[idw-sonic-fan-blog]

It’s mildly insulting to both Sally and Lanolin that people who don’t remember Archie are saying Lanolin is the new Sally. And I say this as someone who hates Sally Acorn.

Honestly, it’s tiring that anytime there is a leadership role given to a woman in this series, people immediately assume said character is ripping off Sally. Sally was bossy, and obnoxiously commanding. Sally was girl boss princess. Sally will let you know she is in charge and it’s not a question who is in charge.

Amy’s leadership of the Resistance was way more diplomatic as she gave Sonic a lot of more leeway than Sally ever did in Archie pre-Wave. Amy Rose accepted Sonic’s decision to operate independently of the Resistance and Restoration almost immediately. Her tenure was marked with community rebuilding projects that she self-admittedly states were beyond her. Sally would have relied on Nicole for rebuilding projects while she operated the military and field missions with impunity. Sally was the person who connected with Freedom Fighters around the world. She was the point person and absolutely would not have let Sonic just willy-nilly do whatever the fuck he wanted. Even in peacetime, Sally, infamously and not unjustly given Archie’s setting, wanted to tie Sonic down.

Jewel is more of a supervisor than leader as she is far more likely to delegate positions towards others to prevent centralized authority. Sally is literally royalty and frequently butted heads with the council and her own father, the King, anytime her decisions were challenged. Sally in Jewel’s position absolutely would not have let Tangle go do her own thing. She wouldn’t be satisfied with desk work. She would have had a conniption.

I can’t speak to Lanolin’s character yet as we only have so little but people are pointing to her butting heads with Sonic being similar to Sally’s interactions with him. First off, Sally’s Freedom Fighters were not volunteer based. She vetted every single one of the members save for Tails whom she thought was too young. Lanolin’s volunteer squad seems to be a revolving door situation in terms of participants so as the organizer and leader of the team, she has to lead off of the approval of the team. Throughout the issue, Lanolin is seeking coordination and cooperation. Sally would not have bothered because the only uncooperative element on the Freedom Fighters was, you guessed it, Sonic. He was the one that she and Antoine had to reign in. Sally would have relayed to the team immediately that this was a stealth mission. Lanolin assumed that they knew that it was a recon mission and Sonic and company would act accordingly. The Freedom Fighters are Sally’s Knights/Royal Guard/City Watch. Lanolin’s volunteer team is the Restoration’s proactive offensive force.

If Sally led the Diamond Cutters and IDW/Games Sonic, it wouldn’t have been Tangle yelling at Whisper for thinking of going solo. It would have been Sally as she does this with Sonic frequently in Archie. Sally wouldn’t be discussing with Sonic in terms of tactics. She would be arguing with him. And Sally would have been a lot more fed up with Tangle’s shit. And more importantly, the narrative would have agreed with her versus Lanolin whose discussion with Sonic is more, “Well, they both made great points and neither aren’t entirely wrong.”

If I could some up the girls’ leadership styles.

Amy Rose - community leader/influencer

Jewel - Community Organizer.

Lanolin - Neighborhood team leader

Sally Acorn - Commander-in-Chief/General.

If anything, Sally has more in common with Sonic Rush 1 Blaze which makes sense since they are both Princesses. The difference between those two is that Blaze is fully capable of leading her own charge and had to be convinced to ask for help sometimes versus Sally who would never even need to be reminded of such.

Sally should not be the ubiquitous girl leader in Sonic the Hedgehog.