#district 9 elders

[phierecycled]

Does anyone else’s brain ever just go “Elder Cunninghaaaaaaam… Holy Prophet Maaaaaaaan… Our Saviour!”

[gegengestalt]

131 useless or often forgotten facts in The Brothers Karamazov!

This 27 of April is the second anniversary of the day I finished this book for the first time. To do something special, I reread it over the last 20 days and as I did it, I compiled little things that are easy to forget in these 1000 pages filled with food for thought. Let's go!

1. Mitya fought in a duel, though it's most likely that nobody died in it.

2. Ivan's journalist pseudonym is "Eyewitness".

3. Alyosha, in his own words, came back to Skotoprigonyevsk to visit his mother's grave.

4. Fyodor Pavlovich owns several taverns in the district.

5. Grigory was the one who gave Sofia Ivanovna a proper gravestone.

6. Alyosha is one deduction away from becoming a communist.

7. The Brothers Karamazov begins in late August.

8. Kalganov is supposedly Alyosha's friend. This is never mentioned ever again.

9. Kalganov gave one coin to some beggars and told them to divide it among themselves.

10. There is a rumour that the previous elder beat people with sticks. This is false.

11. Alyosha is the only person in the monastery who knows that Rakitin is an atheist, and keeps his secret.

12. Four years ago, Pyotr Miusov divulged a fake story about a saint making out with his own decapitated head. Fyodor never forgot.

13. Madame Khokhlakov is only 33 years old. She has been a widow for 5 years, meaning Lise lost her father at age 9.

14. Zosima's serenity in front of the woman who confesses to a murder may foreshadow his later recollection of having a murder confessed to before.

15. Zosima likes to make jokes.

16. Lise and Alyosha last saw each other two years before.

17. Reminder that Grushenka met Mitya because Fyodor wanted her help to throw Mitya into a debtors' prison.

18. Kuzma Samsonov is the mayor of Skotoprigonyevsk.

19. Ivan rambled to Dmitri and Katerina about how he thinks Rakitin will be a failed journalist turned landlord.

20. Fyodor Pavlovich's house is filled with rats.

21. The Miusov family had their own private theatre.

22. Lizaveta Smerdyashchaya was a bit over 142cm/4'7 tall.

23. In 1842 there was a runaway convict called Karp commiting crimes in Skotoprigonyevsk.

24. Marya Kondratievna's mother is missing a leg.

25. Mitya ghosted a girl in real life.

26. Katerina's mother died when she was young.

27. Mitya had a fever for two weeks once because of a spider bite.

28.Mitya thought Grushenka was "nothing striking" the first time he saw her.

29. Mitya was squatting in his neighbour's rented room.

30. Fyodor Pavlovich has a portrait of the former provincial governor in his house.

31. Fyodor Pavlovich goes to sleep at 3- 4AM, like Dostoyevsky himself.

32. Sofia Ivanovna was being courted by a rich man called Beliavsky while she was married.

33. Who was the woman coming from the alley that Mitya mistook for Grushenka? I still wonder.

34. A cheap glass jar was destroyed during Mitya's frenzied break- in.

35. Katerina sends two detailed reports a week to her surrogate mother figure who lives in Moscow.

36. Katerina has an aquarium.

37. Alyosha sleeps using his monk habit as a blanket.

38. Father Ferapont survives eating nothing more than 1,6kg of bread a week.

39. Ivan had told his father about his feelings for Katerina, for some reason.

40. When Alyosha kissed his father, he had the impression that Alyosha was thinking that it was their last conversation.

41. Madame Khokhlakova owns three houses as property.

42. Madame Khokhlakova and Katerina Ivanovna are supposedly great friends.

43. Ivan reads Schiller when nobody is looking.

44. One of Snegiryov's daughters, Varvara, is invested in feminism.

45. Captain Snegiryov's childhood friend is a lawyer.

46. Mitya spilled cognac over the table of the summerhouse.

47. Smerdyakov sings in falsetto.

48. Marya Kondratievna is the only one who ever calls Smerdyakov 'Pavel Fyodorovich'.

49. Ivan uses Smerdyakov as a messenger.

50. Dmitri and Katerina had been engaged for around six months.

51. Ivan's right shoulder looks lower than the left one when he walks.

52. Smerdyakov often moves the tip of his right foot from side to side when he stands (adorable).

53. Dmitri's favourite death threats are "pounding in a mortar" and "breaking legs".

54. Grigory suffers from paralysis three times a year.

55. The real name of 'Lyagavy' is Gorstkin.

56. Zosima's real name is "Zinovy".

57. There was actually another old German doctor before Herzenstube and he was named Eisenschmidt.

58. Zosima has known Brother Anfim for forty years.

59. The Bible is thrown once.

60. Madame Khokhlakova asked Rakitin to go to the funeral as her eye.

61. Alyosha was hiding behind the grave of starets Iov, who lived 105 years.

62. Zosima was harshly criticized for telling a monk hallucinating to take his meds if praying doesn't work.

63. Both Grushenka and Rakitin are children of deacons.

64. Samsonov is the only person that Grushenka seems to be completely and clearly sincere with.

65. Likewise, Samsonov only trusts her when it comes to counting money.

66. Samsonov has the entire first floor of his house for himself.

67. Mitya tells many of his secrets to his landlords, who are fond of him.

68. Alongside eggs and bread, Mitya grabbed and ate a piece of sausage that he "found".

69. Mitya and Perkhotin first met at the Metropolis tavern.

70. Mitya's dueling pistols are his "most prized possessions".

71. Madame Khokhlakova apparently borrows money from Miusov.

72. The brass pestle was 17 centimetres long.

73. Mitya spent exactly 300 rubles in food and alcohol in Mokroye, and it would have been 400 if Perkhotin didn't help.

74. Mitya gave a glass of champagne to a kid.

75. The owner of Plotnikov's shop is called Varvara Alexeievna.

76. Two thousand villagers live in Mokroye.

77. Trifon Borissovich makes his younger daughters clean up the messes of every guest of the inn.

78. Pan Wroblewski is 190cm / 6'2 tall.

79. Madame Khokhlakova gets a migraine whenever she has to talk to Mitya.

80. The ispravnik's elder granddaughter is called Olga, and the night of the murder was her birthday.

81. The prosecutor's wife seems very interested in sending for Mitya often, for reasons he doesn't know.

82. Mitya does not know that the epidermis is the outer layer of the skin.

83. Nikolay Parfenovich is the only person in the world who trusts Ippolit Kirillovich.

84. Mitya often dreams that a person that he fears is chasing him and searching for him.

85. Nikolay Parfenovich wears a smoky topaz ring on his middle finger.

86. Pan Wroblewski is a dentist without a license.

87. Kalganov had visited Grushenka once before, but she seemed to dislike him for some reason.

88. Kolya's father died when he was a little baby.

89. There was a plot going on in the background about the doctor's maid having a child out of wedlock.

90. Rakitin often talks with Kolya. Seems like the only person who takes his ideas seriously is a literal child.

91. Smerdyakov and Ilyusha met and talked to each other.

92. Alyosha rarely gets colds.

93. Katerina befriended Snegiryov's sick wife.

94. Kolya was taken to a judge for teaching a guy how to efficiently crack the neck of a goose.

95. Kolya is against women's rights.

96. Mitya and Grushenka spent five weeks secluded and away from each other after the arrest.

97. Grushenka went to see Grigory to try to convince him that the door wasn't open.

98. Rakitin made up in an article that Madame Khokhlakova offered Mitya 3k rubles to run away with her.

99. Madame Khokhlakova doesn't remember Rakitin's patronymic, and calls him "Ivanovich" instead of "Osipovich".

100. Madame Khokhlakova didn't know of the judicial system reform until two days before the trial.

101. Lise sent chocolates to Mitya in jail, even though there's no reference to them ever interacting before.

102. Alyosha has had the same dream about the devils that Lise has.

103. Alyosha is friends with the jail inspector, who often discusses the gospels with him.

104. Mitya spent two entire nights awake since he discovered ethics.

105. Ivan cleans his own room.

106. Smerdyakov shared a hospital room with an agonizing dropsy patient.

107. Mitya's letter had the bill on the other side.

108. Smerdyakov uses garters with his stockings.

109. There is an apple tree in Fyodor's garden.

110. One of Ivan's "most stupid" thoughts is being the fat wife of a merchant.

111. Ivan had a friend named Korovkin when he was 17, the one he told the story of the quadrillion kilometres to.

112. Ivan has another poem named Geological Cataclysm.

113. Alyosha was the first person the distraught Marya Kondratievna ran to.

114. Ivan is mistaken for "the eldest son" twice in the trial.

115. Grigory did not remember he was in 1866.

116. Rakitin knows "every detail" of the biography of Fyodor Pavlovich and all the Karamazovs.

117. Grushenka's surname, Svetlova, means "light".

118. Mitya once dropped 100 rubles while he was drunk.

119. Ivan saw not just the Devil, but people who had died while he walked in the street.

120. Ippolit Kirillovich died nine months after the trial, the first and last day he received applauses.

121. Marfa is dismissed as a suspect simply because they can't imagine her killing.

122. There is a partition wall in Mitya's lodgings.

123. Mitya mostly stopped staring at the floor during the prosecutor's speech whenever Grushenka was mentioned.

124. Fetyukovich bends forward in an unnerving manner when he speaks.

125. An 18 year old street vendor committed axe murder earlier that year.

126. The verdict was given past 1AM, making the trial last almost 16 hours.

127. Katerina kept the sick Ivan in her house knowing it could possibly be harmful to her reputation.

128. Rakitin tried to sneak in to see Mitya in the hospital twice.

129. Lise sent the flowers that adorn Ilyusha's coffin, and Katerina paid for the grave.

130. Snegiryov cries seeing his late son's little boots the same way one of the women at the monastery in the beginning of the book did.

131. At the end, Alyosha mentions "leaving the city for a long time" soon. Where to? We don't know.

If you read this far down, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing all of these down.

[maevesheart]

FOOLS - PART II

CORIOLANUS SNOW X CAPITOL!READER

note: continuing to use the mars family name for reader, but different storyline than tolerate it. i recommend listening to fleetwood mac’s “storms” while reading :)

PART I // PART II // PART III

summary: only fools would fall for coriolanus snow, and you’re the biggest fool of them all.

wc: 7.5k (she’s a long one)

tw: smut, pet names, curse words

Coriolanus had kept his promise, and that next morning, you awoke to the sounds of Coryo’s small snores and the chirping of birds outside. 

You raked your nails through his soft curls, now a little messy from his deep slumber. He lightly stirred, and you giggled, he was so pretty with half his face smashed into your pillow, back to the ceiling and one arm tucked securely around your waist. You could really get used to this. 

“A photo will last longer,” Coryo’s hoarse voice cuts through the silence, catching you staring at him. “You’re just so pretty,” you smile, “how could I not stare?”

He gives your hip a tight squeeze, causing you to giggle. 

“Goodmorning, gorgeous,” he murmurs, sitting up and placing a kiss on your temple. 

“Goodmorning,” you chirp back, watching as he rises from the bed, removing his top. He throws it to the floor, and then pulls off his socks, going for his pants next. 

“Woah, steady tiger!” you joke, earning a chuckle from him. 

“Just going to shower. Would love if you’d join me,” he smirks, lust dripping from his words. 

“Normally you know I wouldn’t decline, but we have to be down at the Academy at 9… or well, you have to be at the Academy…” your situation still hadn’t completely settled yet, you were disappointed to be taken out of the competition, but you couldn’t fathom meeting an end like Arachne’s. 

Coryo nods, “I’m sorry, darling. I’ll win for you,” he winks, opening your en-suite bathroom door and stepping into the room. 

You decide you’ll go get him a clean uniform from your elder brother, Perseus’s, room; he graduated two years ago, so his uniform was still in crisp condition, and he and Coryo shared the same muscular, broad frame. 

Percy was a Major in the Peacekeepers, currently probably keeping people in line in District 1. He hadn’t been home since his graduation two years ago, except for the brief visits during the holidays or someone’s birthday. Duty calls, as your father would proudly claim when describing Percy. 

It was still early, but you knew that your father was awake, no doubt. Probably sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and the newspaper in his hands. 

Luckily for you, Percy’s room was directly across the hallway from yours, a straight-shot. 

You scurried across, shuffling around in his closet, the bright red uniform sticking out compared to his rather black and blue wardrobe. 

Percy was a tad bit taller than Coryo, but it would do for one day. Coryo didn’t have time to go home, and if he walked down wearing an Academy uniform, your father was sure to believe he arrived this morning. He wouldn’t be too pleased knowing he spent the night. 

You pulled the uniform off its respected hanger, took a pair of socks, and then some dress shoes from the floor of his closet. Percy could spare a pair, after all, he had about 20 pairs of identical shoes. 

You opened his door, ready to exit the room, looking up to meet the suspicious eyes of your older sister, Persephone. 

Where you and Percy were close and told each other almost everything, you and Persephone were distant and hardly trusted each other. Never since she ratted you out years ago for hiding a bottle of posca under your bed. 

“Why were you in Percy’s room?” she questions, words like daggers. 

You roll your eyes, but fear begins to creep into your body. 

You have the uniform in your arm which is hidden by Percy’s door, the only thing visible are the extra pair of dress shoes, hanging from your hand. 

“Why do you have his shoes?” she sneers, finally noticing the footwear. 

You ignore her, finally pushing past, the uniform meeting her gaze. Her eyes narrow, trying to connect the dots on why you’d need a male’s Academy Uniform. 

“I’m going to cut up the fabric and make some bows, you know I need some new ones. And I’m going to mail the shoes to Percy, he wrote to me requesting them,” the lies were mediocre, at best. You had more than enough money to go out and buy some new bows, and you have Avoxes who could easily make them for you. For the shoes, Percy didn’t wear shoes other than the ones that paired with his uniform, but Persephone never paid enough attention to him to know that.

You get lucky, and Persephone doesn’t question you further, nose up in the air as she continues down the hall, the sound of her loafers echoing off the walls as she continues down the hall.

Finally back in the safety of your four walls, you let out a sigh of relief, throwing the clothing onto the now made bed, and the shoes onto the floor. 

The Avoxes must have come in while you were gone. You were suddenly very thankful that they couldn’t talk, meaning they wouldn’t be able to snitch. 

You hear the shower turn off, the cease of the sound of water. Coryo comes out next, just a towel tied around his waist. You have to keep yourself back from drooling, watching water droplets fall down his chest. 

His hand rakes through his hair, his curls dripping water onto your expensive rug. 

“I got you one of Percy’s old uniforms, and some shoes,” you explain, bashfully, feeling his eyes all over your body. 

You were dressed in your silk pajamas from last night, a rose-pink tank top and little shorts, suddenly feeling very exposed under Coryo’s gaze. 

“Quick, dress. Cook made breakfast, you can get something before you have to leave for the Academy,” you usher him towards the outfit, picking up his clothing from before, quickly bringing them to the laundry basket in your closet. 

“I’ll have them washed and bring them to you later, and don’t worry about returning the uniform or shoes,” you throw a smile over your shoulder at him, flipping through your clothing options for the day. 

“Y/N, I will return them,” he shakes his head. You know he hates to accept help, but you love him. And when you love someone, you help them. 

“Seriously, Coryo. Percy is gone, and he’s graduated, so it's not like he needs it anyways. He has plenty of shoes, he won’t miss one pair,”

Coryo looks down at the shoes, last season's best design, straight out of the box it seems. To most people, your family's money would be intimidating, but not to Coriolanus. He strived to be able to support you the way your father does, to be able to buy you the things that your father buys you now.  

Not willing to press the issue further, he pulls on the outfit, fitting relatively perfect except for the extra length in the sleeves and pants, but no one will notice. He slips on the fresh socks and Percy’s fine shoes, fitting like a glove. 

You pull on a simple pair of white form-fitting pants, a white long-sleeve blouse that has a large bow in the front, and some dark navy-blue pumps that accentuate your long legs. 

Coryo’s eyes take over your now more conservatively-dressed body, pausing to stare at the way the slightly-too-tight pants hug the curves of your ass perfectly, and the top of your cleavage that peeks out in the opening of the bow. 

“Alright, you go down first, that way my father won’t assume you’ve been up here this whole time,” 

Coryo smirks while nodding, he wants everyone to know you’re his, but the public displays will have to wait until you’re out of your penthouse. 

Coryo leaves, giving you a quick kiss to your lips before exiting. 

After a few seconds, you follow suite, hearing the conversation flowing from the kitchen.

Coryo is standing next to the kitchen table when you enter, hand on his chest as he laughs over one of your fathers (probably not very funny) jokes. 

You walk over, placing your hand on the outside of Coryo’s arm, leaning down to peck your father’s cheek. 

“Goodmorning, shining star. Did you sleep well?” he asks, taking a quick sip from his cup of coffee. 

“Always do, daddy. Good morning to you as well, Coriolanus,” you smile, catching the glint in Coryo’s eye as he nods back to you. 

“Coriolanus here was just telling us how he stopped by say good morning, darling. How caring,” your mother swoons, placing her hands over her heart.

“That is very considerate, thank you,” you look back to him, hand still on his arm. 

Persephone, sat in between your mother and father, looks down to where the two of you are touching, eyes flitting down to see Percy’s old shoes on Coriolanus’s feet, and connecting the dots as to why you really needed his old uniform. 

She catches your eye, and shakes her head, and you know you’re caught. But you’re not scared of her, not anymore. You slightly lift your head, showing your defiance. 

“Alright, I’m going to run some errands and go find a dress for the opera later, daddy,” 

“Okay, darling. Once again, it was splendid to see you, young Snow.” 

Coriolanus returns the compliment, following you as you head for the front coat closet, retrieving your old fox fur coat, the sharp orange contrasting with the dark blue in your shoes. You throw your navy bag over your shoulder and guester for Coryo to exit first, extending your hand to the door. 

“Y/N!” Persephone is marching down the hall. You urge Coryo to continue, assuring him that you’ll be right behind him. 

“Are you mad?” she sneers, face mere inches away from your own. 

“What are you on about now, Persephone?” you roll your eyes, ready to escape from your neurotic sister. 

“I will play dumb this one time, Y/N. But I know the Snow family just as well as you do. And Coriolanus Snow is a cunning, deceitful boy. Only a fool would allow themselves to fall for him, let alone help him.” she shook her head, placing a hand tenderly on your shoulder. 

“Don’t be a fool, Y/N,” 

You shoved her hand away, taking a step back away from her. 

“You just don’t know him the way I do, Persephone. Mind your own business.” 

With that, you turned on your heel, slamming the front door behind you.

The bell rings out as you enter Fabricia Whatnot’s shop, Tigris quickly pulling you into her arms. 

You had asked her to design your dress, knowing there was no one more suited for the job than Tigris Snow. 

“Oh, Y/N, you are just going to play so beautifully! I’ve been so excited all week, telling all the clients how lucky I am to know the artist herself!”

You blushed, shaking your head. “You flatter me,” 

She tuts, pulling you over to the small platform, gesturing for you to stand up on it, and slip on the dress hanging in front of the mirror. 

It was beautiful, long and a deep scarlet red. It was sleeveless, and a ballgown, large billows of fabric falling out from the cinched waist. A large bow sat at the back, right on your waist and above your bum, the tails of the bow flowing down to the floor, creating a train. Bows were your signature touch on every item you wore, you made sure of it. 

“Oh, Tigris,” you murmured as she helped you step into the dress, pulling it up your perfectly sculpted curves. 

She smiled, zipping up the backs, the hidden corset within the dress hugging you tight, accentuating your hips and waist. It billowed out perfectly, showcasing your cleavage strategically, leaving enough to the imagination while showing off what you were assessed with. The dress glimmered in the bright lights of the shop, making you shine like a star. 

Once she was satisfied with her work, Tigris pulled back, hands covering her mouth in awe. 

“You look like a princess,” she complimented, watching you twist and turn in the mirror, smiling as you took yourself in. 

“You are fabulous, Tigris. This dress is everything I wanted and more,” you pull her in for a hug, endless thanks falling from your lips. 

She helps you out of the design, and packs it into a gown bag for you to bring home. 

As you pay for the dress, she makes light conversation, asking, “Have you seen Coryo recently? He disappeared last night to check on Lucy Gray and hasn’t returned home since.” 

You feel like you’ve been hit by a rebel bomb when the words leave her mouth, brain failing to place the pieces together. 

Did he see her before he came to you? Or did he once again sneak from your bed to visit his pitiful songbird? 

You composed yourself, not willing to be embarrassed in front of his cousin. 

“I walked him to the Academy this morning, and then made my way over here. He seemed perfectly normal,” you stated, when deep down you wanted to rip all of the curls off of his perfect head. 

Tigris sighs in relief, handing you the gown bag. 

“I’ll see you later. You’ll perform wonderfully, I know it,” you smile at her compliment, bidding goodbye, while a silent fire rages within your belly. 

The ride home is short, and soon you’re hanging up the marvelous dress in your walk-in closet, bare feet against the cold marble tiles. 

For your recital, you had decided on one simply instrumental piece, and then one where you sang. You were nervous, though you had been practicing for ages. You had sang while playing at a few parties, but when you were a guest, people never paying much to you. This time, all the attention would be on you, and you had to make sure this performance was perfect. 

Usually in the Capitol, the only successful singers were those who sang in the opera, but you had a rich and smooth voice, one that many would die for. The original song you had picked to sing was a classic, one that everyone would be expecting and familiar with. 

But you now decided that you wanted to stand out, give them something they aren’t expecting. It would either be detrimental or skyrocketing, and you were choosing to believe it would be the latter. 

You tried to calm your ever-present nerves, smoothing your hands onto the front of your gorgeous dress, toying with the massive sapphire stones on your ears. A matching necklace hung deep from your neck, into your cleavage. They were your mothers, a token of pure beauty and wisdom, something you were hoping would come to you. 

You needed to calm down. Stress never mixed well with your mind. You had decided on a song; it was from the old world. Something all the guests sitting before you had most likely never heard. It was soulful, slow, and emotional. You hoped you would pull a few heartstrings, maybe get some audience members to cry. With your voice, nothing was unlikely. 

Coriolanus had been rushing around backstage for the past few minutes, wanting to steal you for a few moments alone. He wanted to wish you luck, not having seen you since you walked him to the Academy days ago. 

He felt like you were avoiding him, the Avoxes not letting him into your home, you only speaking to Clemmie and Sejanus at school…he was confused about what he could have possibly done, questioning Tigris and Sejanus, but neither could decipher it themselves. 

He had asked various staff members where you were, all giving different answers. It was like you told them not to tell him where you were. 

Finally, he rounded a corner, eyes settling on your back. 

He gawked at the dress, practically eye-fucking you. Your hair was in long curls down your back, and as you turned to face him, he saw a deep red color on your lips, matching the shade of your dress. 

The last person you wanted to see was Coriolanus, but as your eyes settle on his piercing blue ones, you know you’re in for it. 

You stay put, unwavering as he strides up to you, eating you up with his eyes.

“You are the most marvelous thing I have ever seen,” he compliments, going in for a kiss, expectant lips meeting your cold cheek. 

He is taken aback, confidence slightly faltering as you cross your arms against your chest, eyes on his – or should you say Percy’s – shoes, the ones you had given him before you knew him as the traitor he is. 

He watched as you looked in every direction but his, trying your hardest not to give into his gaze. 

He takes your face in his hands, moving your head so your eyes meet his, anger burning in the back of your pupils. You had been pushing yourself away from him the past few days, as it was clear Lucy Gray demanded all his time and attention. 

“Not with your songbird?” you sneer out, venom seeping from your words. Coriolanus’s eyes narrow as he realizes that this is what the avoidance has been about. 

“Darling, I already told you that she means nothing to me. Less than nothing, she is district. I am to take care of her if she is supposed to win, don’t let it get to you,” he is soft with his words, care laced within every consonance. 

You want to believe him, you really do, but it seems his words don’t match up with his actions.

“Once you can show me you truly mean your words, I will listen. Besides, I think it’s time for you to take your seat, Mr. Snow. The show is about to start.”

Coryo is raging as he makes his way back to the box seats you provided him, sitting back in the seat between Grandma’am and your mother. Your words were replaying in his mind, not understanding how you couldn’t see that you were all he wanted. Not some flamboyant little girl from District 12. 

He knew, deep down, that Lucy Gray was becoming important to him. He tried to deny it, but he couldn’t. The more time he spent with her, he began to sympathize with her, trying to ease her pain as much as possible. 

The thick, dark green curtains covering the ornate stage pulled back, revealing a black glossy grand piano, likely a fortune, and you sat on the adjacent bench, your dress billowing out from your back. It was gorgeous. Your mother turned to compliment Tigris’s work, as well did Persephone. It was the most beautiful dress that had ever been crafted in Panem. 

Coriolanus watched with adoration as your fingers delicately danced across the black and white keys of the piano, playing the original piece perfectly. The audience watched in awe, a beautiful girl playing a piano even more beautifully. It was captivating, how someone so gentle and caring could play such a dramatic piece, a song with such emotion that it brought tears to many people’s eyes. You chose this particular piece on purpose, it was one that Coriolanus had asked for you to write years ago, when the two of you were just close friends who messed around in your family’s music room. 

He froze still, the notes going straight to his nervous system, setting him into overdrive. You were performing for him, and he couldn’t decide if it was the most romantic thing he had ever seen, or the most infuriating. You had just been chastising him, but now you were playing his song, the one you wrote for him. 

The song became fast, striking. People would be talking about this piece for weeks, it would be drilled into young students' minds the next time they sat on a similar bench. On the program they had given everyone when they entered, named the song “A Snow Waltz”. You could not have been more obvious if you tried, and the idea of having a song written and named after him sent Coriolanus spiraling, wanting to kiss the sense out of you that very moment.

He sat in disbelief as the elaborate tune turned into something slower, something more calculated. 

Then you began to sing, and he knew he was done for. 

“Every night that goes between, I feel a little less,” 

The audience sat upright, eyes wide as they ingested your words, ones that Coriolanus knew you had pored over for weeks, trying to find the most fitting song for your relationship. And based on the first two lines, he wasn’t feeling overly pleased with your song of choice. 

“As you slowly go away from me, this is only another test,” 

And then he understood. This isn't a love ballad. You weren’t professing your love for him in the most public way possible… you were claiming it back. 

“Every night you do not come, your softness fades away,”

The emotion in your voice is strong and compelling, anyone who is listening can sense the sorrow in your words, the pain you must have endured. 

Coriolanus now knows that he has caused this pain. He is the reason for the best performance the Capitol has seen in a long time. 

“Is there anything left to say? Every hour of fear I spend, my body tries to cry, living through each empty night, a deadly call inside,” 

He looks around, engrossed faces all around him. Grandma’am’s eyes are glossed over, and Tigris is dabbing the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief. Your father is holding your mother’s hand, tight. Sejanus is upright, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. 

“I haven’t felt this way I feel, since many a years ago. But in those years and the lifetime passed, I did not deal with you, I know.” 

Your voice ceases, a lovely piano piece following your words, giving Coryo a chance to finally digest what he’s just heard. You’re professing great fondness for someone, admitting that the relationship is fading away, running its course. 

Your voice faintly picks back up, adding in a few lyrics to compliment the complex piano piece. 

“She said, ‘Every night he will break your heart’, I should’ve known from the first, I’d be the broken hearted” 

Coryo’s chest is tight. You look up and out to the crowd, eyes falling onto his. He sees the emotion, the sadness. He knows that it’s his fault, and could’ve prevented it. 

“I loved you from the start, and now not all the prayers in the world, could save us, oh save us,”

The piano begins to slightly fade, and you stand from the bench, dress flowing as you make your way to the middle of the stage, bowing for the now standing and cheering audience, bouquets of flowers thrown to your feet. 

As you take your bow, your eyes are back on him, but this time, his hold the emotion. 

The show was a success, a vibrant grin across your beautiful face as you flitted around to greet all the guests. Various old family friends, distant relatives, even some of your professors at the Academy. 

After the performance, your parents find you first, kisses pressed to your cheek, and comforting hugs as tears slip from your mother’s eyes. 

“Panem hasn’t seen talent like yours in forever, darling.” Your father speaks, pride sparkling behind his eyes, bearing the same color as your own. 

You blush, nodding at his words, accepting his compliment. 

You break from them, finding the Plinth’s next. Sejanus gives you a kiss on each cheek, rambling about how your talent must have been given to you from the stars above. 

You giggle, letting him and his mother rain down on you with millions of compliments, all more enchanting than the last. 

“Thank you for being here, Mr. And Mrs. Plinth. It means so much,” you nod, taking Mrs. Plinth’s hands into yours. 

“Darling, believe me when I say you’ve just done something the Capitol hasn’t seen in decades. You will be more talk than the games, that’s for sure,” 

And with a kiss to your temple, Serbo Plinth walks away, Sejanus and his mother trailing. 

The room that all the guests were brought in after was a large room; high ceilings, a plush (likely expensive) rug, rows of tables with regal chairs, and various portraits of Panem’s most prominent leaders and talents up on the walls. 

You spotted the portrait of your father and Serbo Plinth easily, it was the largest in the room, other than the Presidential portrait. It was commissioned after the war, to show how your father and Mr. Plinth had been the greatest allies throughout the war, proving true to the president. 

You were sat at the center table, where everyone could come over to speak to you, or watch as you ate. Your fathers portrait hung above your seat, a silent expression of how the most successful in Panem continued to produce the best, and only the best. 

You looked at who would be sitting next to you, your father on your left, and Sejanus on your right. You were happy with that, you would speak to Sejanus through dinner, ask him how the games were going. 

You hadn’t been paying much attention to the mentorships after your dismissal, hearing bits and pieces from Clemensia during school. They had a small meeting, gathering information about their respective tribute. 

Excusing yourself quickly, despite the table still being empty as the guests continued to make conversation, you slipped through the crowds and went to the ladies room. 

You touched up on your makeup, and quickly returned back to the table. To your surprise, Coryo was now sitting in the seat that was labeled for Sejanus. 

You tried your hardest to act nonchalant as you sat back down, your father acknowledging your presence was a small pat on the knee, and then he turned back to Mr Plinth on his other side. Sejanus was now across the table from you, all sorts of different food items piled high on his fine china plate. 

Coryo’s eyes were burning into the side of your face, you could feel his harsh gaze. In all honesty, you were quite scared to turn to him. Your song was compassionate, and your deliverance of it was in the most public possible way. The best from the Capitol watching it in person, and everyone through the districts watching it on the soon-to-be Hunger Games broadcasting screens. 

You were the Gem of Panem, their princess. This had secured your place in society, you had established yourself among the most brilliant, the commanders, the leaders. You were proud of yourself. 

Criolanus stood from the table, going to gather food onto his plate. You hoped he would gather lots; it was all paid for by your father, and Coriolanus needed to eat. You always worried about him, even if you weren’t happy with him. 

He returned, plate piled up, like you hoped, and you accidentally slipped a small smile, a tiny corner of your mouth going up in happiness. 

Coryo caught it. He was always able to catch even the faintest changes in your expressions and demeanor. 

Once he had taken his seat, and loud conversation engulfed the room, you finally spoke. 

“I thought Sejanus was meant to be sat there,” you take a small bite of steamed carrots. 

“Last minute change, I suppose,” Coryo lightly shrugs his shoulders, turning his head to get a better look at you. 

“Mhm,” you breathe out, blush tickling your cheeks ever so lightly. 

“You played beautifully out there. And your voice, well, it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard. Why didn’t you tell me you’d be singing?” Is that… hurt behind his words? You turn to look at him, eyes finally meeting, and you swear you see the faintest stain of tear tracks on his cheeks, filling your stomach with fulfillment. 

“Well, you’d been too busy. I didn’t want to burden you while you save your songbird,” you try your hardest to mask the words, but you know he can hear the venom and jealousy peeking out from behind them. 

He doesn’t look smug, no, he looks hurt. Extremely hurt. 

“Y/N,” he breathes out, placing his barely used fork onto the table. 

“I know you visited her the night that you came to me.” You whisper, composure starting to crumble. 

All he does is nod, proving your accusation to be true. You lightly slouch at his silence, so that was his response? He has nothing else to say? “Is that all you have to say?” you whisper, you knew if you tried to speak any louder your voice would crack, giving your emotion away. 

“What is there to say, Y/N? You played our song up there, The Snow Waltz. You sang a song about our relationship, one where the words insinuated that you had once loved me but my betrayal was too strong. Help me understand you, Y/N, how could I possibly respond to that?” He was closer to you now, downcast faces mere inches away. 

To any onlooker, you two would look like a few teenagers who had deep set feelings for each other, feelings that must be voiced at that very second. 

You had a feeling that he would be upset with your song choices, that it would hit him deep in the chest, give him the same feeling that he had recently been giving you. 

“I played your song because I love you. And then I sang that song because I want you to know that I don’t feel loved by you.” 

Coriolanus feels as if a blow has gone straight to his gut, knife clattering as he accidentally drops it on the table. 

His eyes are hard, unreadable. But they’re glossy, the only part that is giving him away. You read him better than any other person, and he knows this. 

He stands up, chair screeching as it pushes out behind him. You watch with wide eyes, staring up at him. He spares you one last solemn look, a slight shake of his head, before he is storming off, down the isles of tables and through hundreds of guests, straight to the doors. 

You feel possessed, your feet pulling you up and forcing you after him, feeling as if they have a mind of their own. Everyone is silenced now, eyes following your every move. The young, beautiful, and talented Mars girl chasing the abrasive, orphaned, tarnished Snow boy.

“Fool,” Persephone mutters under her breath, shaking her head.  

You find Coryo in the empty lobby, no one but you and him. 

He is pacing, hands in his hair, mumbles of inaudible words spilling from his perfect lips, you want to scream at him. Scream at him for showing up before the performance, scream at him for leaving your dinner. You want to scream at him for leaving your bed to see Lucy Gray, for telling you he loves you and then going and proving to do the opposite. 

“Coriolanus,” you announce your presence, slow steps up to his brooding figure as he ceases his pacing, eyebrows twisting together. 

He first ignores you, going and taking a seat on the golden bench beside the entrance for the auditorium. 

You walk over, perching next to him. He timidly reaches a hand out, laying it onto the red dress, smoothing down the thick material. 

“You assume the worst in me, Y/N.” he shakes his head, light amusement behind his words. 

“I already told you what I believe, Coriolanus. You tell me beautiful words, give me special moments. But you then contradict yourself, going back to her. I know you need to win the prize, I know, I know, but I love you. And you’re supposed to love me. And when you love someone, you don’t abandon them for another person,” tears brim on your eyes, threatening to spill out and ruin your flawless makeup. 

“I love you, more than anything in the entire planet, Y/N. Can’t you see that I am helping Lucy Gray to win because that prize ensures I can give us the future that we deserve. The future you deserve…I want to give that to you. To be able to continue to live your life as luxuriously as you do now. Dresses, jewelry, pianos. Anything you would ever want.” His voice is soft, wavering.

You stare at him, lips slightly parted, not expecting him to voice his deepest insecurities. 

“I don’t care about all those things, Croyo…” you murmur, grabbing his hands in his lap. 

“Darling, I just watched you play the most highly acclaimed piano concert that Panem has seen in decades. You are a spectacle, a performer. You love your piano, and your dresses, and all the things that make you pretty, the things that make you shine. You are meant to be a star.” his voice drips with desperation, embarrassment. He thinks the life he lives now isn’t good enough for you. 

“I need Lucy Gray to win so that I can give you the life full of luxury that you deserve. So that I can buy you a new piano every year, a new ruby ring every birthday. Darling, it’s all for you.” his hands come up, cupping your face. They are soft, rubbing your skin. 

“Love me, Coriolanus. Show me that you can.” 

With that, he grips your jaw, hard, and yanks you into him, a small whimper falling from your lips. He is rough, pent up anger finally spilling out. “I love you,” he murmurs out, kissing your chin. “I love you,” he’s now on your neck, sucking as hard as he can, being sure to leave marks. “I love you, more than anyone else,” 

He’s standing, pulling you up with him, his hands moving down to your biceps, lips back on top of yours, pulling you into the coat room. 

He locks the door behind you two, pressing you against it. 

His leg slotted between yours, keeping you pressed tight against the doorframe. His lips continued their vicious attack against your neck and collarbones, tongue gliding across the prominent bone. 

You watched as he slowly trailed further down your body, getting onto his knees. He pulled back from your skin, watched from below as you panted, trying to catch your breath. With a final smirk, he flipped up your skirt and disappeared under the hem, hiking one of your knees over his shoulder. 

Your breath hitched as you felt his hot breath over your clothed pussy, head falling back against the mahogany as he trailed a calloused finger over the red lace, cock twitching at the sound of your light moan. 

His fingers toy with the lace, before ripping it off your legs, you hear the lingerie tear. 

“Coryoooo,” you whine, upset that he just ruined your brand new panties. 

“I’ll get you some new ones, darling,” he promises, throwing the disheveled garment to some corner of the closet. He grins, knowing some Avox will find the star performers panties sometime later tonight, and know she was fucked in the coat closet. 

Before you have time to prepare yourself, Coryo is licking a strip up your folds, and then his mouth is sucking on your bud, whimpers falling from your lips, your hands digging into the wooden walls of the room. 

Your head is thrown back in pleasure, Coryo lapping you up, his lips ravenging you at an unbearable speed, pressure begging to brew in your stomach. 

He knows the easiest way to get you undone is to give you head, and lucky you, he loved to do it. 

His one hand squeezing the fat in your ass, kneading the sensitive skin. 

You moan, loudly, when his tongue starts to circle around your clit, and he squeezes your ass extra hard: a warning. 

The burning sensation in your core continues as he enters two fingers, pumping in and out of you at a relentless pace. Though you can’t see him, you know that he is smirking, hearing you fall apart above him.

Finally, the mix of his two fingers, tongue, and thumb rubbing circles around your clit causes you to finally come undone, legs shaking as Coryo drinks up all the juices you spill. His rough hands hold your legs up, and soon he’s out from under the dress, lips quick to attach to yours, making you taste all of your juices on his tongue. 

He pulls away and smiles at you, “I love you,” he whispers, brushing your hair from in front of your face, fingers delicate and soft. 

“I love you,” you smile, lightly melting into his touch. 

“Can I fuck you now?” he smirks, a mischievous glint to eyes, fingers rubbing your jaw. “Please, pretty thing? I’ll show you just how much I love you…I’ll fuck it into you,” 

His lips are re-attacking your neck, hands pulling down the zipper of your beautiful dress. 

“When I’m president,” he pants out, your hands tangled in his hair, humming, 

“I’m hanging this dress up for everyone to see, the most beautiful dress ever worn,” he finished, attacking your lips with his own. He’s sure your lipstick is smeared across his chin, likely off the corners of his lips. He doesn’t care, everyone should know that you’re his. He is the one who gets to kiss you, gets to fuck you. 

He helps you step out of it, gently placing it over a near chair, not wanting to ruin the masterpiece. 

“In fact, I’ll have a whole wing dedicated to you, my love. It’ll have dresses, coats, portraits..” you shut him up sucking on the sweet spot under his right ear, knowing it turns him on the most. 

And you are right, watching him tear off his black coat and shred off his slacks, left in his boxers and white button down. He pulls you back into him, watching with lust blown pupils as your perfectly painted fingernails unbutton all the way down the shirt. You help him remove it, discarding it to the pile of his other clothing. 

Then, his boxers are tugged down, carelessly kicked off, and he’s back to you, pressing you harder into the wall. 

He tells you to jump, and you oblige, legs wrapped around his hips as he lines himself up with you. “Just one more, princess,” he mewls, noticing your sudden nervousness. You nod, knowing Coryo would stop if you became too overstimulated. 

You dig your head into his shoulder, biting the hard skin as he pushes in, your pussy taking him so perfectly that he almost passes out. 

The two of you hadn’t had sex in weeks. Sure, you had done other things, but you hadn’t done the thing that ties two people so closely together, barring ever single part of themselves. 

His hands are secure around your ass, moving you in synchronization while he relentlessly continues to bottom out in you. 

“Coryo,” you moan, slightly muted by it being said deep into his shoulder. 

“Taking me so well, baby,” he groans, feeling himself slowly untie. You feel the same sensation, his dick hitting your sweet spot so perfectly with every thrust. 

You wrap an arm around his shoulders, and then move your free hand down between the two of you, massaging circular motions to your clit. 

Coryo goes even faster, earning whines and various other noises from your lips, beginning to squirm from the sensitivity. 

“Come for me, darling,” he says, eyes following your every movement. You begin to massage faster, head falling back against the mahogany door as his thrusts become sloppier. 

The two of you come undone at the same time, Coryo lightly leaning against your body, slipping out before delicately dropping your leg. 

He makes sure you’re able to stand up before walking away, gathering your dress, and helping you step back into it. He ties the corset, and then the zipper.

He slips back into his outfit, pulling up the slacks and sliding his feet into the shoes. You button up his top, and smooth down the collar. You go to run your fingers through his now slightly tangled curls, making them look as perfectly curled as they were when he arrived to the show. 

Finally, he gets down on one knee, holding your heels. You prop a bare foot onto his knee, looking down at him with lust-blown pupils, swollen lips, your hair slightly messy and smudged lipstick. How he got so lucky, he has no idea. 

He slides the expensive heel delicately onto your foot, like he’s scared of hurting you. As he begins to buckle it close, he cuts the silence. 

“I love you, Y/N Mars. I love everything about you. Your voice, your eyes, your spirit. I love your dedication, your talent that so very few possess. I love how you care for me, and make sure I’m alright, always bringing me whatever I need. They say that love can arise from the most unsuspecting of places, and in my case, that was you. As a child, I would trail you like a lost puppy, always seeking your validation, some sort of indication that you saw me, knew me. I know we’ve had our initial clashes, loud, aggressive fights in the middle of class or in lunch, and I know you don’t always listen to me, and I don’t always listen to you, but you see me differently than anyone else, you see a side of me that I don’t know to anyone else. And amongst the original animosity, I found myself drawn to you, seeking your approval. The deeper I got to know you, the more I began to fall for you. Everything I’ve done, every person I’ve hurt, it’s all been for you. And now, here I am, professing my undying love for you. Love that will burn for as long as I live, as long as you’re by my side.” 

You are speechless, mouth agape, Coriolanus’s glossy eyes raking over all your features. You were bewildered, wondering how something so romantic could come out of a man’s mouth who was simply doing-up your shoes. 

He is still down on one knee, and once he’s finished your other shoe, you pull him up, arms winding tightly around his waist. 

His large hands rub your back, holding you as close as possible. You dig your face into his chest, his chin atop your head. 

A slight sniffle, and then you murmur out, “I love you, Coriolanus. I don’t know how I could’ve doubted you.” Persephone’s words echo in the back of your head, over and over again, “fool”.

**

tagged

@snowsgames

[wifeofsnowbaird]

You Can't, You Can't Catch me Now I'm coming like storm into your town

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/rest on Masterlist

[Mentor!Coriolanus Snow x time-travel, thg-era, tribute!reader x toxic!Finnick Odair (in the Peacekeeper era)]

Warning: gore, blood, gun and knife violence, serious injury, death, physical assult, possibly non-con...as I said, maybe...

Summary: You are a rebel, the last chance of the rebellion against President Snow. You're told to go on one last mission to kill the man who massacred Panem. It took you years to understand your mission when you became [name] Lily Baird, starting from the age of five till before the reaping day of the 10th Hunger Games.

The day you began your plan to destroy President Snow before he became the villain he was meant to become.

'Both sisters, Lucy Gray and [Name] Lily Baird are a part of the Covey, and though they have been chosen as tribute for both District 12 and 9 because of our own mistakes, we hope they will stay safe.'

You knew about [Name] Lily Baird, named after her because your mother was inspired by her fiery personality and strength, but now you realize that you were transported to a time before the Baird sisters died, one of sickness and one because of Coriolanus Snow himself.

'I will kill you, President Coriolanus Snow.'

Coriolanus stood beside his cousin, lost in his train of thought. Tigris paused to question him about his tribute since he had mentored her during the day before noticing a scratch on his face.

‘Coryo! Why haven’t you put a bandaid onto that cut?’

Coriolanus glanced at Tigris before gazing at the scratch on his hand.

He was sure that the scar on his face was worse than his hand but he abandoned the thought of covering it because…Well, what if [Name] Lily Baird had attacked him because she liked him? He had seen her red face multiple times and she always ended up extending her claws like a cat.

‘They’re her marks on my skin.’ Coriolanus shrugged, glancing back at Tigris as she stood by the stove lost in shock. She grimaced as he gently smiled at the thought and walked to the dining table where Grandma’am sat.

The old woman glanced at him before settling down and calling a maid to hand her the scarf.

Grandma’am has always been stuck in a world before the Civil War between the Capital and the Districts so Coriolanus intervened through the elder woman's anger at a non-existent person and went to fetch it from another room.

Tigris sighed, gazing back at the boiling cabbage in a hot pan in front. Her mind kept on sliding back to her cousin’s answer about why his tribute kept on attacking him.

‘ Her marks on my skin? Well, isn’t he delusional…’ Tigris mumbled before going back to the hot pan on the stove.

‘Sejanus,’ the boy beside Coriolanus looked up at the blonde near him. 

‘Yeah? You need something?’

‘Does [Name] Lily attack the other tributes like she does to me?’

Sejanus stopped chewing midway through the sandwich Ma had made.

‘No, she’s nice once you meet her the second time. I saw her with Dill, Wovey, and Reaper once and she was teaching them about how to tell the difference between certain seeds for some reason.’ He shrugged. ‘Apparently, Wovey and Dill were interested…Why though?’

Sejanus then glanced at the scars Coriolanus had received from his tribute and frowned, having heard about what happened yesterday. Tigris had told him about it when he had stopped by their penthouse.

‘So…I’m the only one? I’m special to her?’

Clemensia Dovecote, one of his acquaintances since they weren’t close, interrupted the conversation before Sejanus could respond.

‘Listen, Coryo, don’t get caught up in your delusions. She hates you, I’m sure about that.’

Coriolanus scoffed at the girl in front of him before grinning at you while you were being dragged by a Peacekeeper.

He stepped towards you, ignoring his friends' comments, and wrapped a hand around your waist but was pushed away.

‘Get off me!’ You sneered before stomping away in an angry fit.

Coriolanus glanced back at his friends but ignored them once they shook their heads, mentally telling him that, ‘they told him so.’  But unfortunately, he had lost himself to you.

At least to his future First Lady of Panem.

One sentence kept repeating in his head while he was following you,

‘I’m her only, she made me claim her as mine.’

And without sensing the slight possessiveness coming from your mentor, you glared at the arrogant boy who was meant to keep you safe.

‘Really wish I could destroy you now, Coriolanus Snow.’

next chapter is gonna be Sej x Lucy Gray sooooo be warned ig?

[moesasaur]

ALL TBOM ELDERS + all canon information on them

I am making this to help out anyone who is writing fanfics or drawing fan art of The Book Of Mormon and wants to draw the elders accurately or keep them in character. I will involve all lines from each character + their fandom given first name and other small things that indicate their personality or traits. I will also state the animal they brought up in I Am Africa since I believe the animals do reflect their personalities in some way.

Elder Church

- Elder “James” Church

- Given the name James by the fandom

- OBC actor: Brian Sears

- Comes from Cheyenne, Wyoming

- When he was young his parents were in an abusive relationship, with his alcoholic father abusing him and his mother

- “Okay, okay, HOLD ON! I mean… We COULD… SAY that we had some baptisms” Is the elder that suggests lying about how many baptisms district 9 has achieved

- “We were SO worried about you” Is the first elder that tells Kevin they were SO worried about him when he fell asleep at the bus station

- In I Am Africa he sings “(with) The Noble Lion King”

- In I Am Africa he also sings “A tribal woman who doesn’t wear a bra”

Elder Michaels

- Elder “Michael” Michaels

- Given the name Mike by the fandom

- OBC actor: Clark Johnsen

- Comes from Provo

Elder Thomas

(I could not find a photo of him, please accept this photo of the actor as an offering)

- Elder “Chris” Thomas

- Also goes by Elder Poptarts

- Given the name Chris by the fandom

- OBC actor: Scott Barnhardt

- His sister died from cancer and he was unable to say goodbye since he was at the apple store in line for a new iphone. Her last words were “Where is my brother”

- “You, too?! I had the hell dream after I accidentally read a Playboy!” Had his first hell dream after accidentally reading a playboy

- “Well, somebody needs to tell that General Butt-F-ing Named that people should be free to do what they want!” Is the elder that gives Kevin the idea of speaking to the general.

- In I Am Africa he sings “(with) The meerkat”. A lot of the fandom compares him to being like a meerkat

Elder Davis

Same thing, take this photo of him (right) standing next to Andrew Rannells (left)

- Elder “Robert” David

- Given the name Robert by the fandom

- OBC actor: Jason Michael Snow

- Is the first elder to ask if Elder McKinley is okay when he is panicking about the mission president

- “Elder Cunningham we must always work in PAIRS. Remember?” Is the first elder to complain about Arnold and Kevin arguing before being shut down by Elder McKinley

- “Looks like you fell asleep at the bus station!” (to Kevin after SMHD)

Elder Schrader

- Elder “Brian” Schrader

- Given the name Brian by the fandom

- OBC actor: Benjamin Schrader

- Please note that he isn’t called Elder Schrader in every performance, he sometimes takes the last name of the actor that plays him since he is named after Benjamin Schrader, his OBC actor

- “Are you an IDIOT?! MORMONS don’t LIE!” could come across as him being outspoken + rude personality wise

- In I Am Africa he sings “With the rhino”

Elder Neeley

Same thing AGAIN. Have a photo him (left) standing next to Jason Michael Snow (right)

- Elder “Ted” Neeley

- Given the name Ted by the fandom

- OBC actor: Kevin Duda

- “I told a lie once when I was twelve, and I had a dream that I went to hell! It was REALLY SPOOKY.” Had his first hell dream after telling a lie when he was 12

- “Yeah, we have to go home!” “But the mission president said we’re all as far from the Latter-Day Saints as it gets!” Seems to be the elder that wants to go home most after being shunned by the mission president

Elder Zelder

I scoured the internet and found no photos of him at all this is all I got sorry guys

- Elder “Elder” Zelder

- Given this name by the fandom, frequently referred to as an alien. I assume this is due to him having fewer lines compared to the other elders. People joke that Elder Zelder is his full name

- OBC actor: Justin Botton

- In I Am Africa he sings “(we are) A monkey with a banana”

PAIRINGS

Here is a photo of the chalk board that lists the pairings of all the elders:

If you can’t read it,

Elder McKinley + Elder Thomas

Elder Zelder + Elder Michaels

Elder Neeley + Elder Schrader

Elder Church + Elder Davis

also it’s a good example of Elder Schrader’s name changing based on the actor portraying him!!

Thank you for reading my little infodump, I did this mostly for myself but I would be happy to know that other people found this helpful!!

[futuristicsaladparadise]

I just realized there are several of my dolls that haven't been formally introduced, so I'm working on addressing that. First up is Shamsa.

Shamsa Kabil Nasr Mansour is 9 years old, from Gaza, Palestine where she lived with her parents and four siblings. Shamsa is the middle-middle child, her siblings are elder sister Mazana (15), older brother Hassan (12), younger sister Jemina (5) and little brother Shiraz (3).

Shamsa loves to sing and her favorite school subjects are math and music. Her analytical mind helps her get good grades overall, and she liked all her school subjects, but since moving to the US, she has struggled with learning English and her family's changed circumstances.

During a bombing in her neighborhood, Shamsa lost all of her family members except her sister, Mazana, and Shamsa herself was in the hospital with life-threatening injuries that took a long time to recover from. (The reason she wears glasses is because of head injuries that left her nearly blind. She has since recovered some of her sight.) When she was finally well enough to leave, her aunt (her mother's older sister), Nour, took Shamsa and Mazana to live with her and their uncle in the US.

Shamsa is adapting to her new home, and has been picking up English, but is often homesick and grieves for her family. She has grown especially close to Mazana, and the girls try to keep some of the old routines they had "at home."

Shamsa has needed some additional surgeries since arriving in the US, but is recovering well physically. Her aunt is teaching her to play the piano and Shamsa joined her school's all-girl robotics club, who, with her help, took second place in their district competition.

She still loves math and music, and has a newfound love - recess. She hopes to move back to Palestine when she grows up and to teach school there.

[wundrousarts]

Various Wundersmith thoughts and things I've noticed after rereading the book for yet another time:

This one is significantly longer and a little bit more random than my recent Nevermoor reread, but who cares 🤷 the more the merrier!

There are things both serious (theories, thematic parallels, etc.) and silly (jokes, personal reactions). This time around I discovered the annotations feature in Apple Books and had a lot of fun with that, so I'll try to include the bits I highlighted when necessary. Enjoy!

— I don't mean to have a shippingbrain, but it feels impossible to view Jupiter and Israfel as anything but exes/folks that had a Thing in the beginning, omg.

—— Israfel throwing the "old friend" back at Jove..... my note for this one was "#gay"

— I like the interest Mog has in Bohemia, and I'm interested based on that one Silverborn snippet for her to return (and eventually explore other parts of the city as well)

— Jupiter referring to the junkies as "they're not patrons of the fine arts" feels like a nice little set up for the Museum later on. Thought of and admired as an art piece, but the rich folks at the auction don't actually care about the work put into it.

— Do you think the folks at Wunsoc that organize the little show that welcomes 919 are a little peeved that the Fireblossom's being reignited means that they can't perch creepily in them anymore lol.

— I wonder if the Wunsoc Oath has a pre- or post- Massacre origin

“The nature of Miss Crow’s unusual –" she paused, seeming to catch herself before calling it a ‘knack’ – "situation.” (Ch2)

—— Elder Quinn hesitates to refer to Mog's power as a knack, so I wonder if that's just a general thing of Wundersmithery being different, or if knacks are a post-Massacre categorization

— I love how this book really starts to solidify the theme of family in Nevermoor... Wunsoc, her Unit, the Deucalion, Wundersmiths, the Crows, her mother..... AAAHHHH!!! I can't wait to see where it all goes.

— A "note sealed with silver wax" from "the Celes-" ..... YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!!! 😁😁😁

—— Likely about Cassiel but even that and beyond could tie into a lot of other Silverborn Theories..... Noelle..... The Silver District....... I will keep this all in mind

—— Also, updating my SIlverborn Masterpost posthaste ✍️✍️✍️

— It likely doesn't matter and will never be explained, but I wonder if the room between student's houses and their hometrain station is part of the Gossamer, and like a thin place between worlds

— Miss Cheery's first outfit is so y2k I need to draw her. It makes sense because she's like 20 in this book.

— The Wunsoc circle diagram has always interested me since I first read it. I wonder if the size of the circles ever means anything??

—— Could it relate to the probability (?) of the knacks? Mundane is the most common to occur, Arcane more specialized, and then Wundersmiths are very, very rare

—— Something I often forget is that folks in Wunsoc that weren't Wundersmiths have always existed. Were there more than 9 of them in each year? Were there always 9 non-Wundersmiths? Did the trials always exist? What was the relationship between non-Wundersmiths and Wundersmiths like?

—— On that note, did C&D only become the Wunsoc motto / purpose post-Massacre? Or did they do that before as well? If the motives of Wunsoc have changed over the years, has what they look for in students changed as well?

“Everybody at Wunsoc has a job to get on with – every junior and senior scholar, every graduate, every teacher, every patron, every Elder and every Master.” (Ch5)

— I am still forever curious about what Masters are, and why they are on the same level or possibly even slightly higher than Elders

—— Are they previous Elders? Are they people who excel in their craft? I'd like to say there could be a connection to Wundrous Apprenticeships but 1. those seemed like a natural given, 2. likely aren't really around anymore, and 3. I'm not really sure why they would have so much authority if so.

—— I like to headcanon that senior scholars do internships/apprenticeships

— Something that makes me laugh is that I will famously agonize over something, in this case the Wunsoc academic school year, only to discover upon a reread that it is explicitly stated how it works. lol.

— Brilliance Amadeo and her predecessors are referred to as "First-Line Wundersmiths." This likely relates to the chambers in the Liminal Hall in Sub-Nine that we see in Hollowpox.

—— Knowing Jess, I bet that either Mog or Squall are part of the Ninth Line

“Your kind are … all … dead," continued Professor Onstald. "And if they’re … not –" he blinked his watery eyes at her and took a long, rasping breath – "they should be.” (Ch6)

“My duty is not … to save you … from yourself. It is to show you … that you are … beyond saving. All of your … kind … are beyond …” (Ch6)

“If you were half the Wundersmith you ought to be by now, it wouldn’t be possible for me to tap into your power like this. (Ch24)

— I've had a theory post on the progression of Wundersmiths in society towards the Massacre in the works for awhile that I've postponed until after my Hollowpox reread, but:

—— What if it was a group effort?

——— There's a part in one of the books that's like, "Squall led his fellow Wundersmiths in a coup, and then turned on them" and as much as Wunsoc likes to spin and fabricate things, I think that this could also be true. What caused Squall to turn? That's a mystery we'll have to unravel later...

———— This book is heavy on Squall controlling and manipulating folks, both literally with Wunder but also mentally with words, so could be interesting if that played a part in the revolt

— Regardless, something spooked Onstald enough to turn from admiring and studying Wundersmiths and their ways to hating them, and I'll forever be interested in what happened.

—— I think there could be some slight truth in him viewing all Wundersmiths as bad, because some stuff, like Mathilde's Morbid Museum (lol), could indicate some darker inclinations by folks other than Squall

— Maybe I'm an idiot for not realizing this before, but I don't think it was Jupiter that got Mog/919 into the Maps class.

“I have dedicated my life to taming this monstrous city, and I love her with every fiber of my being.” (Ch8)

“Goodness. You’ve only been here a year? And yet you and Nevermoor seem to go hand in glove. It’s almost like this place was made just for you.” (Ch8)

—— So Squallish. I wonder if anything he said was coached.

—— Do you think this is how he got him on his side? Did they bond over both being obsessed with Nevermoor?

— I think a lot of Mildmay's problems would have been fixed if he had simply been more proactive about networking instead of turning to a life of crime. I mean, he's only 19, just out of school! Way to quit early, dude.

One bite brought on the specific sensation of bittersweet late-summer nostalgia … which sent Francis straight back to the test kitchen, as he’d actually been aiming for the carefree abandon of a mid-summer music festival. (Ch9)

— I wonder how much of Francis's knack/what he cooks/cooks with has a Wundrous origin. I'm also often reminded of the Smoking Parlor.

—— I like to relate it to my Communication "Art" but alternatively... does remind me of Israfel's voice. Curious about how Celestials and Wunder interact.

—— Alice Frankenreiter of 915 is mentioned as a shapeshifter..... how Masquerade-esque. Another point for the "knacks being related to Arts" theory?

——— I also have to point out how funny to me the "Franken-" is with the knack. lol. (makes me think about Frankenstein)

— There is a "noise like a thousand tinkling bells" when the Ghastly Market is revealed. This noise also shows up in the other two books during the Christmas Eve battle. In a world where magic by Wundersmiths heavily involves singing in order to use Wunder, I like the further comparisons of magic and sound. Will keep an eye out for more during Hollowpox.

—— We see this as well with this line:

Her fear and revulsion and rage swelled inside her like a symphony (Ch16)

which I just annotated as "music/art comparison. slay."

——— On that note, I feel like the connection between Wundersmiths/Divinities and the Celestials being explored more could be interesting, as both of their powers involve singing. I'm curious how/if their magic overlaps.

— The fact that the Loyalty Trial was from the Elders and thus they were the ones who asked Cadence to humiliate Baz will never not be funny

— Chapter 18 mentions a "Polaris Hill." Named after Griselda Polaris?

— Have to say: Between being excited about a killer flytrap and teaching 919 swears, an underrated Mahir trait is that he is actually very silly.

— If you've ever seen me call the Gossamer-Spun Garden the "Wundergarden", please know that the Murdergarden is 100% why lol

— I hope hope HOPE!!! we get some proper definitions someday for the Wundrous Act Classifications. Like Spectacle, Phenomenon, Singularity, etc... I hope we get to learn what they each are someday!!!

“To do just what a Wundersmith does," One corner of Squall’s mouth twisted into a quarter-smile.” ... "To grant your fondest wish. To give you the thing you want more than anything else.” (Ch19)

— I feel like this line is often overlooked and is an underrated hint at what a Wundersmith's role in society was like

— I'm a bit of a pessimist (SORRY) about the movie adaptation, and once thing about this book is that I'm mourning that it'll probably never get adapted.

—— I think that the idea of Nevermoor as a movie musical works so much better with Wundersmith because there's so much more magic and music and singing in this one, with both Israfel and the first Nocturne lessons. I could see it the integration of the non-diegetic (?) songs that the characters sing and the themes of the movie/books work better with this book than the first one just because of that.

—— Also the theatricality of characters such as Squall and Mildmay is off the charts in this book! I'd even throw Dearborn and Murgatroyd in there as well. I think they could make for more interesting characters in a movie musical than the general supporting cast of the first book.

—— I'd say that perhaps they could mix and mash stuff from both books 1 and 2 into a single movie, but I don't know if they have rights past the first book.

Squall cocked his head to one side, a deep frown etched into his forehead. ... Squall took a step towards her. He looked like he was remembering something. (Ch19)

— I wonder why he recognizes the song!

—— Curious if anyone else has their own theories on this they want to share. I brought this up in the discord a few months ago and have yet to make a proper post but here's my idea:

——— Squall's song and Mog's song are very similar in a few ways, so perhaps one of the songs was influenced by / is “descended from” so to say from the other, or they have a common ancestor.

——— Could explain why Little Crowling is familiar to Mog and Morningtide’s Child is familiar to Squall

... into the cold embrace of a capricious and unknowable city. (Ch19)

— This is like, baby's first comparison, but I do enjoy how this refers not only to Nevermoor but also Squall just a moment earlier. They are sooooo linked. I wonder if there's other moments like this in the book that I've missed.

— The Jemmity Park stuff is interesting to think about because I think Odbuoy is the youngest Wundersmith present at the time of the Massacre.

—— The idea of him being the youngest I feel then fits with him making the park only work for children, as that seems appropriately mischievous.

——— Because of my (outdated tbh) Eventide theories, I had a silly theory he was 7 when he made the park, but when you think about that more, it falls apart. A little funny to think about though, ngl.

— Anyone else think that the Elders should have told Jupiter about Sub-Nine in case he wanted a part in that? I feel like as a patron and adoptive father figure of a Wundersmith, he might want some access to Wundersmith history and culture. His excursions to the park and Cascade Falls really prove an interest and he could be helpful to the group.

— Morrigan compares Squall's Séance Synchronicity to Coven 13 in the Fright Trial... are these magics connected at all, or will we learn more about the different magics in the world at some point?

Squall held his hands out – palms downward, twisted into claws – and made his fingers dance like a puppeteer twitching strings. (Ch24)

— I find it so funny how the Puppeteering (also known as Marionette) parallels– the statue in the Elder's hall, the stunt with the Charlton Five on the platform, and this scene– were so obvious, and yet it took a solid 2 years after Wundersmith's release (right before Hollowpox was out!) for somebody to bring it up for the first time. And now everyone accepts it as basically canon lol!

— Wonder if the Wundrous Arts sign got changed to Wretched Arts before or after Squall's exile, in order for him to know about it. I have some theories on the timeline of all that that I'll share at a later date.

— I often forget and I think it's often overlooked that the Magnificub growing was Squall's doing, not just Mog's.

—— Wonder if he was stalking her that night as normal OR detected her intention and swooped in OR was there already due to the auction

— The way that Squall bows dramatically to tease Mog and then Mildmay does the same a chapter later is so funny.

“There are far greater monsters –" his eyes flashed – "and far greater dangers. Miss Crow, we have a shared enemy you could never imagine. If the Wundrous Society doesn’t take you off the leash, if you aren’t given the freedom to grow, to become the Wundersmith I need you to be … then terrible things are coming down the line. For both of us.” (Ch24)

— War in Arc 3 pleaseeee

—— It's interesting because it seems that Nevermoor/Free State has been relatively peaceful ever since restructuring… but the Wintersea Republic has had the same amount of time to build up! And now they’re looking to take the last slice of the pie…..

“There. That feeling. That fire in your heart, that spark of anger and fear. Focus on it. Feel it. The flickering, burning anger inside – THAT is Inferno.” (Ch24)

— What if each of the Arts are bolstered by an emotion? Doesn't seem so but 🤷 could be a fun AU idea perhaps

— A lot of the description of Inferno in this book– a flame or firework in Morrigan's chest– reminds me so much of Howls Moving Castle (2004) that it's on my eternal to-do list to draw.

— Between Mog's lessons in this book and Goldberry's circular breathing, I think it's interesting how much of Inferno relates to breath

—— "Breath of life" ?

—— Could relate back to music/singing, which is needed to summon Wunder

—— Do any of the other Arts (excluding Nocturne and Inferno) have any connections to breath that we know of? Or even are just aligned with a specific part of the body? If anyone has any thoughts on this, please do share!

— Anyone else like to think about the Hunt of Smoke and Shadow and the way the Hollowpox hunted? No? Just me? Okay

—— I think that Wundersmiths definitely probably have specialties– and these are based on natural affinities, NOT lineage– and Mog's is likely Inferno whereas Squall's is likely Veil

He took a deep bow, still laughing. (Ch25)

— My note for this line and the whole scene was simply, "🖕 WORST 19 YEAR OLD EVER" lol

“You saved my life tonight. I find myself in your debt." He watched her for a moment, pressing his mouth into a line. Morrigan could tell he wanted to say something more, but wasn’t sure if he should … or perhaps he couldn’t quite find the right words. Israfel breathed a deep sigh. "You’d do well not to mention that to the folks at Wunsoc. I shouldn’t be in your debt.” (Ch27)

— What does this all meannnnn

— Interesting how Jupiter mentions that he thinks Cassiel's disappearance is unconnected to all the Ghastly Market stuff

—— I've mentioned before (maybe not on here, sorry) that the timing could perhaps line up in order for Cassiel to be the Celestial that Noelle's knack is stolen from, if we want to go with that theory

— Mog saying that Squall said something funny, as in weird, yet Jupiter's first response is to ask if he said something "funny haha" is so funny to me. Why is that his first response.

— Folks have mentioned it before, but I'd love some more bonding between Mog and Lam based on the fact that they're both from the Republic

— Elder Quinn refers to Mog as "our Wundersmith" as in like, just another brother and sister in Wunsoc, but it could be interesting if that wording is ever brought up again to try to use Mog, or make her do something no one else can because of her powers, like in the days of old

And finally (about 3k words later):

— Lam is referred to as "the smallest of all of them" in terms of 919. Not to me! While I wholeheartedly believe she is certainly short, she's not the shortest for me. #ShortMogSupremacy.

[dirty-bosmer]

20 questions for writers

Thanks to @thequeenofthewinter for the tag <3

Tagging: @elavoria @atypicalacademic @gilgamish @nuwanders @ladytanithia @sheirukitriesfandom @throughtrialbyfire @lucien-lachance @miraakulous-cloud-district @bostoniangirl21 @terendelev

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

6

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

704,291 😅

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The Elder Scrolls and probably only ever the elder scrolls. Mostly Oblivion but I have one Skyrim lonngfic in the works. I read fic in several other fandoms, but this one has me by the throat.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Well, I only have 6 in the first place so it's not saying all that much.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do the best I can to! Sometimes one slips by me on a particularly busy week, and then I'm too mortified by the lapse of time to answer. I don't think it's happened too often, but please know I read them all and am always grateful for them ❤️

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Haven't finished either of them yet, but it's gotta be The Illusionist Part 2, which is an Oblivion novelization with emphasis on the Dark Brotherhood and Mages Guild, or Beyond the Break, which is just me crying about Mathieu Bellamont.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Treacle which is still hella angst lmao, but Scar-Tail does live happily ever after, and it's all thanks to @atypicalacademic for the inspiration ❤️❤️❤️ I have also vowed to make my Skyrim fic, Slither and Writhe happier 😤 Thus far, it's going... well, it is going.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't, and the few dissenting opinions that I have received I wouldn't consider hate either. They're just opinions. I hesitated to mention this, but since I was LITCHRALLY talking about Lucien Lachance on one of Ray's posts a few minutes ago, in the past I have receive messages detailing how my interpretation of Lucien is distasteful, given he is unabashedly a villain in my story and 1/2 of a toxic relationship (also he's... kind of pathetic lol). It's a darkfic and not for everyone, I'm well aware. Fortunately, many of my very lovely, talented friends and mutuals write great Lucien fics that are different from mine, so at the end of the day we all get what we want :D Variety is the spice of life, and you can pry grossnasty Lucien out of my cold, dead fingies.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I write sexual content (idk what counts as smut). Originally, I wrote all the sex scenes as fade-to-black, and while they're not super graphic, while editing a few months ago I thought "you know what, this needs more cunt." So yeah. The sex scenes have become a bit more explicit now than they were in the first iteration.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nah, and I don't think I ever will.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge, and unless people are out there lifting passages of my writing and inserting it into their fics, I'm not going to claim ownership over ideas. We're all playing in the same sandpit, and while the execution is my own, I find it quite difficult to say the stories are totally original or novel because all my writing, from concepts to style, have been influenced in some way by the works of others.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

No, but I've tossed around some ideas with @zomboidatomic that may or may not one day bear fruit...

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I've worked them all out of my system at this point, tbh. Romance doesn't really do anything for me on its own without compelling characterizations and intriguing plot. I select by other tags over ship most of the time too. That said I've been driven crazy by some of my friends ships with characters I've never even spoken to before. If it's good it's good, you know. (Though I am currently re-watching Hannibal and I will confess that I am still ill about Hannigram ajkfhalg)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I'm going to finish them all, dammit!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Characterization, I think, especially when writing people who are awful lmao I've received a lot of compliments when it comes to writing villains and morally grey characters.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Ugh, I am so self-indulgent. Sometime last year I edited The Illusionist part 2 and trimmed out 60k words. It was so BLOATED (probablly still is). I think there were times when the plot got sidelined because I had an idea for a fun scene. Yes, I love writing Lucien and Nim hate-fucking and tearing each other apart in some weird mashup of Tommy Wiseau in The Room and the alien in The Thing. No, I did not need three chapters of this back to back, but I wanted it...

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

If the plot calls for it, then by all means 👍

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Hmm, now that I think of it it may have been a Fallout 3 Harkness fic that I kept in a composition notebook when I was 12. It will never see the light of day, obivo.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

OoOoh, that's tough. Slither and Writhe already feels stronger to me because I'm a more experienced writer, and I actually planned it out, but The Illusionist is my first baby.

[pbaintthetb]

Lol watched Book of Mormon (and hoo boy possibly actually one of my faves I've watched on stage. Plot is average at best but the goddamn choreo and the lights- the act 1 finale? I digress) thoughts

You can never go home again, or more accurately, You can never go to Orlando again. Anyway Price probably needs a few years to resort his head and life before he can go to Orlando and appreciate it because currently I don't think he can seperate what he wants (needs) Orlando to be from what Orlando actually is...

Orlando and Salt Lake City are the same in the sense that neither of them actually exist and they're metaphors (ignoring the fact that they do, both exist). Both Nabalungi and Price songs about their favourite fictional (real) real (fictional) place are kinda tragic because it reveals the things they view about the world as fact. Hence why this place is so special. Yes comparing Price's pretty first world problems with Nabalung's concerns is a bit of a stretch but also it kind is the same thematically.

I do hope Nabalungi can get what she wants from Salt Lake City though, although not necessarily in Salt Lake city idc.

The vibe I had in the interval was that it was possible out of district 9 Price is the only one to have actually read the Book of Mormon, cover to cover. Cunningham explictly hasn't, the conversation about "latter days" made me wonder if the other mormons only kinda read it which-

leads onto my thinking that like Price's relationship with Mormonism is, in many ways, more academic/clinical. Like he's got that kind of obsession with religion that I personally associate with people who don't actually believe but either A. really want to or B. really want to disprove it. Price is firmly in A, but yeah like I feel like Price needs Mormonism to be real where he is in the plot (Orlando. If mormonism is real he can go back to Orlando. And it's worth it.) But he doesn't necessarily actually have that spark of genuine belief the other District 9 elders have ya get me? Like he knows it back to front he knows the logic, adn in the coffee scene talks about how a lot of it has always seemed nonsensical and incoherent to him. It's a set of rules and guidelines but idk if Price actually has like core real belief/faith.

When those extra rows of lights came down for Man Up near the end of act 1? Oh yeah you bet we were all in for a fantastic time then, you know good stuff is gonna happen

The lighting in Sal Tlay Ka Siti was beautiful, like I mean the actress's performance and voice were great too, but the lighting really sold the like kinda hopeful tragic nature of the song. She's so happy most of the time but that song, ugh, the tree branch gobos, the visible beams, the colour KSJDFJS:LKDF

Lol disco ball.

The set? It's so detailed? And they get it up so fast? LIke I know they drop blacks in "You and me (but Mostly me)" so it's more than the black out, but STILL?

Again, how do they get the waistcoats on so bloody fast in "Turn it off"??? (I do actually have theories about this but that's not the point, it's stilll so cool)

Maybe this is just the run i watched, but like the Mormons, other than being dressed the same are all roughly the same height (except Cunningham) so their numbers are so extra cool because they really do kinda blend and move as one unit and it's so cool to watch. Especially Hello and Two by Two where they all have black ties.

Did they just start a new cult at the end? Curious what most of the mormons are gonna do when they leave Uganda. Also curious if their parents got an angry phone call from the mission president and are just like.... why aren't they home yet???

BFN is an elder now? Okay... not gonna touch that and how that happened

Nabalungi's dad is fucking hilarious omg his delivery this guy

The only song I'd heard was "You and me (But mostly me)" but I had been told of the spooky mormon hell song. The latter slapped. Did not have Atilla the Hun playing flute on my bingo card that day.

^I loved the blacks coming in from all sides to trap Cunningham out of "You and Me (But mostly Me)" and leave Price as the star also like I knew the song but teh first "but mostly me" cracked me up

One of the incorrect names Cunningham called Nabalungi was "Nigel Farage" lol. Couldn't hear much of the dialogue after that.

About the incorrect name, Nabalungi has the patience of a saint for sure.

Oh during teh play i couldn't watch half of it because I was too busy watching the district 9 elders, but mostly Price reacting to it. It was hilarious. Price looked so fucking happy but like he was trying to hide it and was clapping Cunningham on the shoulder at one point.

As a musical, it's incredible, and it properly contextualises a few things people have said about it and how long it's been running. By "as a musical" I mean the general production of it n shit. The plot is pretty average, the songs have funny lyrics but a lot of the numbers probably won't hold up so well on sound track for me personally- but when you're watching it??? oh yeah. Oh yeahhh.

Oh, the pipes on the guy playing Cunningham, man. MAN.

You can never go to Orlando again.

[simslegacy5083]

NSB (Straud Legacy) Gen 9 Ep 50: Catching Up

Remembering his promise to keep up a good “school/life balance”, once Luigi felt he was fully prepped for the new semester he checked in on his family.

First up was a trek back to the old homestead in Brindleton. He brought a newly elder Chubbs along to celebrate Valentina’s own transition to elderhood. He enjoyed seeing everyone again, catching up with Kelsey and Scott. Scott was still working at the Art Gallery and had recently been promoted, while Kelsie had brought her husband and some well loved grandkids to her mother’s birthday.

---------------------------------------------

Peachy and Valentina had yet to set a wedding date, due to some lingering family drama on her side. In their youth Valentina’s twin sister Kassandra had cheated on her unsavory husband Leroy with Peachy, until the two men became aware of each other. Relations were still tense between them.

Luigi told his dad not to worry about it, he’d put the old reprobate in his place if Leroy started anything. Peachy just shook his head, promising his son that wouldn’t be necessary. They’d send out invites as soon as they decided on a venue for the ceremony.

---------------------------------------------

Next up Luigi headed out to Moonwood to check in on Hunter and Tess. He was glad to find them settling in nicely, as their primary skill sets were an excellent fit for the bustling farm community and the pack had been just as warm and welcoming as promised.

Luigi was saddened to hear of the passing of his old art Club friend, the ancient werewolf Wolfgang. He wasn’t able to pretend to similar sadness when he heard that his aunt Toni had left Hunter’s short-fused father Manny and returned to The Collective single shortly after Denton’s wedding.

---------------------------------------------

Toni took the opportunity to thank her nephew for his unwavering support of his cousin. Her partner’s “my way or the highway” attitude had driven many of their friends away, and when he had at last alienated their child as well, she had been forced to dissolve their relationship.

She had come to the mill to reconnect with Hunter and Tess. Once there the community had rekindled fond memories of her youth and begun to restore her faith in relationships. Her old friends welcomed her back with open arms and she loved being able to watch her son bloom here with them.

---------------------------------------------

Finally, Luigi got a chance to check in with Denton and Cullen when the newlywed invited them to the flea market downtown.

He and Bridget had just moved to a new apartment in the Spice District, and when he heard of an innovative young musician playing amongst a large collection of secondhand furnishings, he knew they could all could catch up while catching a show and hunting for deals.

Cullen found a chair while Denton picked up a comfy couch and Luigi snagged a cocktail themed floor lamp.

---------------------------------------------

After they all found decorations that appealed to them and took in a performance that did not disappoint, the cousins headed to a local gaming café.

The change of venue was definitely Luigi’s idea, but Denton and Cullen had a good time too. Despite their different upbringings and careers all three boys were digital professionals and quite at home in front of a screen. They chatted as they played, giving the game only half their attention.

Denton told them married life with Bridget was going well so far, although they were nowhere near ready to bring kids into the mix.

---------------------------------------------

As for Cullen, he’d recovered nicely from surgery, but what he was most excited about was the results of his HRT therapy.

He looked very different than the last time his cousins had seen him, and he felt a thrill of excitement every time he glimpsed the person staring back at him in the mirror. Cataloging his exploration of the city for his followers on Sinstagram was going well, and his parents had helped him find his own small apartment in the Spice District not far from Denton and Bridget.

The cousins had a great night together, and they told Luigi they couldn’t wait to cheer him on at his next e-sports event. They parted ways looking forward to seeing each other again soon.

---------------------------------------------

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[vievecorcityrp]

NAZ ULUSOY

GENDER: Female 

SPECIES: Animal Spirit (Rabbit)

AGE: 641 years old

SEXUALITY: Pansexual/Demiromantic 

OCCUPATION: Lawyer at Ulusoy & Atwood Partners | Spirit Elder

DISTRICT: Chissob Hills

BACKGROUND:

They do not recall much of their life as an animal. The rabbit was alive one day and then they weren’t. Naz often thought that they had just gotten lost, they were killed and instead of leaving, she just stayed. In the years that followed she stayed in the forest, moving with the other rabbits. The longer she lived, the more she saw the life and death of her kind. 

It was almost a hundred years later when Naz began to realise that something was different with her. There had been flickers when she could grow into a human, the same size as the ones that hunted her kind. Sometimes the flickers would last seconds and then they started lasting longer and longer. In the late spring, there were many rabbits in the forest, raising their newborns in the burrows by the trees. A group of hunters came looking for easy prey, flushing out the burrows and letting their dogs pick apart the small creatures. 

Naz may have remained untouched as a spirit but her anger at the act made magic lash out of her. Their form flickered back into a human, magic bursting out of her and through the hunters. The hunters ended up dead at her feet and Naz was unable to turn back. It took a few years before the spirit realised she could move between the two forms and by that time, she had already integrated herself into the local community. They were still mourning the loss of the man who had been lost in the forest but Naz was not a suspect. 

The spirit slowly adapted to life as a human, moving forward with the world as it began to change. Life was much the same for her, she continued living on when the people around her died. It made it easier for the animal spirit to not get attached to people, instead she focused on things she could control. When it was allowed, Naz went to school to become a lawyer. It was her way of trying to help the city, wanting to protect the innocent even if everyone thought they were guilty.

After seeing a vision of the future, Naz began to realise that life was short. Even for a spirit. She decided to take leave from the city and her position on the council. If her life was coming to an end, Naz wanted to see the world. Having rarely left Vievecor City, there was much of the world to see. Spending the past 9 months traveling around the world, the animal spirit decided to return home. The news she had been hearing about the city was worrisome, bringing her back again. 

PERSONALITY: Dutiful, optimistic, hard-working, obsessive, energetic

CHARACTER TYPE: Original

BLOG: @naz-ulusoy

[skzfairyy]

District 9: Chapter 12

Mafia!AU || skz x OC’s || PG-17 ||

Pairings: Bangchan x oc, Minsung x oc, other pairings to come!

Genre: Angst, Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Humor, AU (& so much more lol)

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, weapons, language

Status: Ongoing

Wc: 3.7k words

AN: It feels so weird typing out “chapter 12″ now, our story is picking up and it’s crazy that you guys are actually enjoying it. The support really motivates us to keep it going so thank you! Enjoy !! - Y2K

(In the compound, the night the girls make it to the coast)

Monitors were beeping quietly throughout the dark room, three of them sitting side by side on a large desk in the center with a rickety office chair in front, a chair that currently sat empty. The usual occupant was standing towards the back of the room, tinkering with his latest gadget.

The soft light from a small desk lamp sitting in the corner of the cramped table brightens the room just enough to make out its contents. Wires and tools were scattered about as he stood with his back to the door. Safety glasses secured on his face, and dark brown wisps fall right at his brows as he leans down close to his latest project. A small laser zaps at the device before him, keeping his mind busy as he waits. 

Jisung’s brain is usually working in overdrive throughout his everyday life. Only when he’s working with his technology is he finally able to calm the chaos in his head. Ever since they arrived at the compound, he’s isolated himself in this room, distracting himself with his work. Bangchan knew how badly he needed his own space to work on his own projects, as well as how important it was to set up a server that was undetectable to keep them in the loop with the outside world while they hid. The moment Chris told him this room was his, he got to work. Jisung found himself pulling all-nighters often, even last night, to keep him from going back to his bedroom.

After the argument before the Gala, he and Minho had barely spoken to each other. If Chris noticed he didn’t comment on it, which Jisung was grateful for. He traded the shared bedroom he always longed for with Minho, for a couch and it’s worn material in this room alone. If he wasn’t thinking about the fight with his partner, his brain wandered to the source of the conversation. Choi Yura always found a way to creep into his thoughts and this time it was his overwhelming worry for her as she escaped the life she knew, and traveled to meet them at the compound. 

When he was listening in to the meeting at the gala, she barely spoke. At first, he chalked it up to the fact that Yura was working, she was sent as an ambassador of sorts for her academy so she was not really able to be her true self around the elder agents within the society, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was just something more going on with her.

FB

The van door slid open quickly, jolting Jisung who was still smiling at the conversation he overheard between his hyung and the eldest Choi sister. 

“Cameras were looping the whole time. No one will know you guys were there.” Jisung finished his sentence as his curious eyes traveled to the door.

Minho climbs in without sparing his partner a glance. He removes his own earpiece and places it into a box next to Jisung’s setup.  

“I’ll meet you guys at the rendezvous point.” Minho states before turning back to the door.

Jisung frowned at him. They were all supposed to leave together. Once Chan returned they would drive to the edge of town where Changbin and Seungmin were waiting. 

“Did you forget something at the academy?” Jisung turns in his chair, his face full of concern.

Minho turns to look at Jisung, for a moment he’s forgotten about their argument as he reads the telling expression on his partner's features. It made his own mind flash to the emotionless look of Yura at the Gala, reminding him of what he had to do before they left. 

“Yeah, something like that. I’ll meet you there Ji, don’t worry.” He exits the van quickly leaving Jisung alone, the monitors beeping quietly behind him. 

EOF

When they were small, Yura, (better known to Jisung as Yura11g0nnadi3 for the first few months of their friendship), was his online gaming partner. Jisung’s uneasiness with the packed cafe, resulted in him often staying back in his room with his own computer, while his friends hung out with students from the other academies. From there, he would join game matches and play against or with Yura, communicating through the small chat on the screen. Light hearted jokes turned into heartwarming messages whenever she could send them. 

Yura11g0nnadi3: “Jisung make sure Minho feeds you!”

Yura11g0nnadi3: “Please eat today, you’re the best partner I have in this game!”

Yura11g0nnadi3: “Congrats on getting an A in academics! Combat is next. ;)”

Sometimes they’d just jump into a chat room to catch up. Many times she’d have him wait while she helped ice Moonbyul’s wounds from assignments before coming back, spilling the beans as soon as she found out. She never questioned Jisung as to why he never came to the cafe. They were both pretty vague with their friends about their relationship, even when they’d have tournaments between their schools. They knew they would cross paths outside of the chat room because of who their friends were, and especially with Yura’s title within the school, but how deep their actual relationship was, and how much it meant to them? That was their little secret.

That unspoken rule was something he enjoyed about their relationship the most. She was open and trusted him and he was the same for her. When he looked at Yura he never saw the snarky, sarcastic, brutal assassin that everyone else saw, but a kind friend and the most caring woman he’d ever met. 

Later in his teen years, Jisung would rack his brain late at night trying to decipher the relationship they had. Yes, his feelings for Minho grew more and more by the day and he told her about them often, but Choi Yura also held a place in his heart that he couldn’t quite figure out. 

When they would see each other at the Academys’ combat tournaments, he’d fight his social anxiety and always go to support her. Telling the boys it’s his one day a year that he gets to see Changbin get his ass handed to him by a couple of girls. (And he did in fact get his ass beat by Yura every year). As they passed each other she’d send him a small wave, and he’d offer her a small hand heart or thumbs up of encouragement. It was something small, but Jisung looked forward to those moments every year. Especially seeing how fast her switch flipped when the fights started.

To Jisung, letting these indescribable feelings about Yura’s change in emotion go, wasn’t even an option. After telling Minho how he felt, Jisung expected to feel regret and maybe even a bit embarrassed for suggesting to add someone else to their relationship, while things were going so well. But instead, he felt relieved, and more reassured than ever. If he had the slightest inkling that the two would never be compatible, he would’ve never brought it up, but Jisung knows Lee Minho just as much as he knows Choi Yura. They are so similar in personality that it’s no wonder Jisung is so drawn to the two of them. If Minho would just push aside the unnecessary animosity he holds for a version of Yura that doesn’t even exist anymore, maybe then he would see the same person that Jisung has grown to care so much about. 

The techie pauses, setting his laser down in front of him to take a breath. This overthinking is the very reason why he dove headfirst into his next project in the first place. He took it upon himself to start creating different covert tactical accessories that the entire team could use once they arrived. The first of the collection being the tennis bracelets that he designed for each of the girls, which currently had the monitors behind him beeping quietly. Letting him know just how far they all were and what their health statuses are during their journey. Jisung was so focused on his project before him, he didn’t realize Minho had entered the room until he heard him clearing his throat, announcing his arrival. Jisung glances behind him, seeing Minho standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. He wears simple gray sweatpants and an old shirt from the academy. He looks fresh out of the shower, hair still a bit wet, air drying as he goes about his business.

     “Have you eaten dinner?” He asks softly, as Jisung diverts his eyes back to the watch in front of him. 

      “Earlier.” His hand gestures to the now empty bag of chips he had found in their supplies last night, before picking up the laser again.

Minho’s lips tighten at the dismissive words. Since their arrival two days ago, he’s barely seen Jisung. He knew to give the boy his space, especially with this ongoing fight between the two of them, but Minho draws the line at Jisung’s neglect to take care of himself.

      “Are you still upset?” Minho moves further into the room, standing behind Jisung as the sound of zapping fills the room. 

      “Do you still have your head stuck up your ass?” Han hums out quietly.

      “I’ll take that as a yes...” Minho doesn’t hide his frustrated tone.

Lee Minho had been Jisung’s rock for as long as he can remember. Originally, he had formed a tight brotherly bond with Chan and Changbin. Han didn’t think he needed anyone else, but one day Chan introduced the quiet Minho to them, and he fit in seamlessly. Minho was an observer, he saw how loud and comfortable Han was around the boys and he also saw how quickly the same boy would close up and shut down around new people and uncomfortable situations. They were similar in that way, both of them more quiet than the other two in their friend group. Although for different reasons, that was one of the first things about Minho that caught Han’s attention. In private, the silence from him was calming, assuring even, in a way it made him feel seen. While in public; it was familiar, safe, something that grounded him.

Minho was the one to encourage Han to stay with technology. Supporting and rooting for him through exams, gaming tournaments, and even random projects he decided to take on. Although Minho was also starting to figure out his role as the school’s ‘Invisible Man’, he never forgot about Jisung. Sneaking him late night snacks or even walking with him to class, Jisung’s stupid crush on his friend only grew from there.

FB

      “So you’re homosexuals… and together?” Changbin asked, his finger waving between the pair accusingly with a fisted hand on his hip. Thoroughly confused as he sat across from the couple. 

      “Oi! You can’t just ask someone if they're gay.” Chris says next to him, slapping him on the back of his head.

The two shared a look before answering Changbin’s question. 

      “I don’t think it’s that simple to define, but at least for now… we are together.” Han speaks before giving Minho a big smile, and he returns it. 

      “Well isn’t that the cutest gay shit I’ve ever seen! We should buy a couple of rainbow flags to hang in here!”

      “Changbin!” Chan punches his arm this time.

      “We’re happy for you guys, seriously.” Chan says with a voice full of sincerity and a face holding a wide smile.

 EOF

      “Where did you even go after the Gala?” Jisung turns around, leaning his body against the table, finally giving Minho his attention for the first time in days.

Minho’s eyes glance to the wall at the question. He has a problem with not being the best at his job. At least, that's what he told himself when he left the Gala that night. Not being able to read anyone makes him feel uneasy.

Yes, he fought often with Yura, but at least he was able to read her just like everyone else. He knew whether she actually meant her threats or if she was just doing it to get under his skin, but that night at the Gala, her entire demeanor was off. It was like she had become someone he didn’t even recognize… someone he couldn’t read. 

And damn it, that actually worried him. 

So, he left to find someone who knew what happened. 

FB

Still dressed in his Gala attire, Minho stood in front of the local bar many agents of the surrounding academies would frequent in their spare time. Those who weren’t at the Gala would most likely be inside, celebrating their (much needed) night off.

Minho walks in quietly, not many people notice him as the music plays loudly, and the dark lighting makes it difficult for people to really see one's features. His eyes scan the room until they land on his target for the night. 

      “Sana.” Minho is behind her at the bar before she realizes it. The brunette woman smirks at the sight of the handsome 2PM agent.

Though her reputation was known for being quite cunning with both her work and the men of the District, she is still a woman with many emotions. One feeling, in particular, Minho intends to take advantage of to get his answer.

      “Lee Minho, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Her tone drops down an octave, prepared to seduce one of the Districts known in-eligible bachelors. 

Though he detests the woman in front of him, he knows she’s the person most willing to give him the answers he needs, so he plays along for now. 

      “Thought I’d say hi, it’s been a while since I last saw you.” Minho takes a seat next to her, waving the bartender down for a beer as he shifts his entire body to face her, giving the assassin his undivided attention.

She takes a sip from her martini as she nods her head. “I know, it felt like I was stuck in Japan on deployment forever. The mission went longer than the Headmasters had planned, but at least we all made it back right?” She smiles widely and Minho returns it.

      “ ‘We’? Who did they assign you with?” He questions her as he takes a drink from his glass.

The woman lets out a low scoff before answering his question. “It was me, Momo, Yuta, Shatoro, and… the Choi’s.”

Bingo.

Having spent so much of their lives in the same circles, everyone in their class knew about the on-going beef between Sana and the Chois. More specifically, Sana and Yura. The two girls could not stand each other. Every time Sana would say something sharp, Yura was always ready to follow up with the sharp end of her blades. 

He skips his teeth at the mention of the sisters. “I know that couldn’t have been easy on you. Especially with Yura there.” 

Her lip pouts out at his words before nodding her head in agreement. “You always understood me, Min. I wish you were there! For some reason, I don't know, Yura was more bitchy than usual towards everyone, and I didn’t even do anything to deserve it!”

Minho nods along as she continues as if he's hanging onto her every word.

       “First of all, she and Rina were fighting the whole time, which was weird in itself. Then when we’d go on side missions, that switch she’s got would flip and it’s like she became another person entirely. I tried to remind her of the ways we were trained to do things, but of course, she wouldn’t listen to me, she never does. The craziest part was, usually when we’re on a mission, no matter what, Rina is always able to get to her when she’s like that. I guess whatever they’re fighting about is serious because she wouldn’t even listen to Rina’s orders.”

Minho frowns, he’s heard about 'Ares' being a force to reckon with, but he thought Yura and Rina were inseparable, even as ‘Athena and Ares’. Sana continued to speak, but he lost interest a while ago, already hearing what he needed, he looks at his watch and realizes the time.

      “I, unfortunately, have to go. Bangchan needs us home tonight for a meeting.” He cuts her off mid sentence, and though she pouts for a second she nods her head in understanding.  

      “Duty calls I guess. Don’t be a stranger, Lee Minho.” She gives him a sultry smile before drinking from her glass. 

He smiles tightly in return as he stands up, abandoning his half finished beer and the bill, before sneaking out the door just as quietly as he came in.

EOF

      “There was some information I needed to collect.” Minho responds casually while his entire conversation with Sana loops through his head.

Jisung’s eyes study the man in front of him. “Well, are you going to share what you learned?”

       “When it becomes relevant to the mission, yes.” Minho’s response earns a scoff from Jisung.

      “What exactly do you want from me?” Minho’s voice is strained.

He absolutely hated fighting with Jisung, Though they’ve had small disagreements here and there, it's never become something this serious. All he really wanted was to fix things between them and just hold him again.

      “I want you to actually listen to me. I’m not even asking you to say ‘yes’ to my idea! I just want you to at least see things from my perspective, to see her from my perspective!” Jisung shouts out, exhausted from trying to get Minho to let go of his pride for once.

But what Jisung hasn’t realized is that recently, Minho is trying to understand, at least in his own way. He knows he can’t hate the Choi girl forever, and with their previous argument, along with their encounter at the Gala still in his head, all he’s been doing is thinking about that girl. 

He took a side quest to figure out what happened on that damn mission, only to become more confused. If she just came back as the usual stubborn, sarcastic, annoying woman he was used to he wouldn’t be struggling like he is now.

All the hatred he had for Yura vanished after the gala, that he knows for sure. Now he’s just trying to wrap his head around how to now approach this new feeling that’s taken its place. This feeling of worry and concern he has for someone he thought he hated.

Minho opens his mouth to finally tell Jisung what's been on his mind, but before he could, the monitors behind them came to life, beeping louder than before and more rapidly. 

Instinctively, both of them move to the front of the room. Jisung takes a seat in the rickety chair as Minho stands behind him. A moment later Chan makes his way into the room with a worried look written all over his face. 

      “What’s going on?! What happened?!”

      “Yura’s BP levels are dropping.” Han says as he moves his mouse around the screen, clicking on her name. 

Her stats are blown up wider on the screen for everyone to see. The different health bars glow a light orange color, unlike the full green bars from before. Jisung points to the quick decline of her blood pressure bar before turning to look at Chan. 

      “But she is on the boat!” Minho points to the other monitor with all three of the markers together, currently moving across a body of water.

      “Notify Seungmin. Now!” Chan says to Minho, who currently cannot draw his eyes from the screen.

      “Let him know she’s coming in with some form of injury, we don’t know what, but it could be bad. Have him prepared for anything.” 

He scans the monitor one last time, his concerned eyes scanning over Rina’s status before exiting the room.

Minho finally tears his eyes away from the girl’s name to exit the room before pausing. 

He glances back instinctively at his boyfriend and sees Jisung’s eyes are glued to the screen with Yura’s information plastered on it. His hands fidget nervously as his mind races with numerous scenarios that could end very badly for his friend. He’s quickly pulled out of his thoughts when he feels a soft kiss to his temple. 

      “She’ll be fine, Ji.” He mumbles quietly. “She’s a fighter, remember?”

Minho squeezes his shoulder lightly before leaving the room to his own work area, hoping his message gets to Seungmin in time.

The boys spent most of the night tracking their friends, monitoring their health, as well as doing their best to prepare for everyone’s arrival. Minho had immediately gotten in contact with Seungmin on a rigged radio Jisung built. He did his best to relay the limited information he had to make sure their team's doctor was prepared for whatever was to come. At some point their connection dropped, and Minho could only hope it was because the others had finally arrived and Seungmin dropped their conversation to help Yura.

Bangchan distracted himself by clearing out one of the storage rooms to make room for the girls to have their own space. He re-arranged two extra mattresses that were leaned against the wall, and positioned a few blankets and pillows onto each one. He also folded some simple clothes  that they had brought over with the rest of their belongings, and left them on the book-shelf. Even though it’s not much, he figured it’d be good for the girls to have a space to call their own since they’d be living with a bunch of guys for the foreseeable future. 

Jisung never left his seat in front of the monitor. He listened as the sound of Yura’s health stats went from rapid beeping to the steady mellow tone from before. Only then did Jisung finally move his eyes, glancing at the digital clock on his desk that read 7:15 am. As he moves to stand he feels himself stumble, his legs taking a moment to recover from being in a seated position for so long. He moves only a few feet over from his desk, and falls onto the couch he had in the corner of the room. As if his body finally realized what the time was, Jisung’s eyes began to droop, finally allowing his overthinking mind to rest.

taglist: @toalltheunknown, @skzloveforever, @ryak14, @thesunsfullmoon, @woozarts 

Y2K masterlist || series masterlist || last || next

[orthodoxydaily]

SAINTS&READING: FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 2024

september 7_september 20

Venerable Macarius of Optina (1860).

Forefeast of the nativity of the most Holy Mother of God

The first lesson at Great Vespers (Genesis 28:10-17) describes Jacob’s dream of a ladder reaching from earth to heaven, and the angels ascending and descending upon it. The second lesson (Ezekiel 43:27-44:4) speaks of the gate of the sanctuary which faces east. God enters through this gate, which is shut so that no one else can enter by it. The third reading (Proverbs 9:1-11) talks about the house that Wisdom has built.

These readings are interpreted as prefiguring the Mother of Go

VENERABLE MACARIUS OF OPTINA (1860)

The time of Elder Macarius’s ministry as an elder is often hailed as the “Golden Age” in the history of Optina Monastery. Under his guidance, the monastery became a spiritual centre of Russia. During the latter half of the 19th century, it played a significant role in the gradual return to Orthodoxy within Russian culture, which had been under strong Western influence since the time of Peter the Great.

Mikhail Nikolayevich Ivanov was born into a noble family in the Oryol province. His great-grandfather, Ivan, was a monk of the Karachev St. Nicholas Monastery in Odryn, taking the name Joseph upon entering monastic life.

The future holy ascetic grew up in a pious family. His father, Nikolai Mikhailovich Ivanov, was in the civil service rank of a collegiate assessor. He and his wife, Elizaveta Alexeyevna, lived near the Lavrentiev Monastery in the village of Zheleznyaki, Kaluga province. On 20 November 1788, their son Mikhail was born. The child was named after St. Michael, Prince of Tver. After some time, four more children arrived: three sons and a daughter. The mother noticed that her eldest son differed from the other children and said that “something extraordinary” would come of this boy.

Years of study and entry into service

Elizaveta Alexeyevna died of tuberculosis in 1797 in Moscow, where the family temporarily resided for her treatment. After burying his wife, Nikolai Mikhailovich first settled with his children at their estate in the village of Schepyatino and later moved to his sister’s home in Karachev. The father enrolled his eldest sons in the town’s parochial school, where they remained until 1801 when his sister and her family moved to the countryside. There, Mikhail’s cousin acquired a home tutor. He also taught Mikhail and his brothers, as their aunt had taken them all into her village home.

Mikhail was the eldest. He lived in the village for about a year and then entered the service as an accountant in the Lgov District Treasury, where S. Ya. Sandulov, a relative of the Ivanovs, was in charge. Two of his kin, both named Alexei, became Mikhail’s assistants in the service, one his own brother and the other a cousin. Alexei Peredelsky, his second cousin, recalled: “Piety, godliness, chastity, meekness, and moral purity were always in his nature. He mostly avoided our childish games and amusements, preferring instead to engage in reading and crafts, like making cardboard models or embroidery. When he came of age, during his secular life, he did not shun decent social pleasures but did not show any particular inclination towards them either. He loved music... he also loved singing. His voice was weak, but this deficiency was compensated for by his knowledge and understanding of music.”

In 1805, Mikhail was appointed head of the accounting expedition office in Kursk and received a promotion in rank. During this period, Mikhail developed an interest in music and literature, devoting all his free time to these pursuits. While participating in society, he remained a humble man. Despite mingling with society, he remained modest; his shyness and thinness — owing to frail health since childhood — earned him the playful nickname “monk.”

In 1806, Mikhail Nikolayevich’s father departed to God leaving him and his siblings — four brothers and a sister — without parents. They remained united, supporting one another and making decisions collectively. At a family meeting, they agreed that the estate should be entrusted to the eldest son.

Mikhail resided in the village for two years but did not achieve success in managing the property. It is recounted that the servants even mocked the hapless landowner who refused to employ conventional methods — harsh punishments and reprimands. However, one incident stands out. Some peasants stole a large amount of buckwheat, an act that could not go unnoticed. Mikhail summoned them and admonished them with words from the Holy Scripture, urging them not to anger God. Deeply moved, the peasants confessed to their theft, repented wholeheartedly for their actions, and begged for forgiveness tearfully on their knees. Neighbours constantly sought his assistance, and he never refused anyone, never turned anyone away, even if it meant neglecting his own affairs.

His relatives tried to arrange a marriage for Mikhail, but they couldn’t find a suitable bride. In his heart, he was becoming increasingly firm in his desire to dedicate himself to God.

On October 6, 1810, Mikhail Nikolayevich set out on a pilgrimage to the Ploschanskaya Hermitage and never returned home. He sent a letter to his relatives, informing them that he was staying at the monastery and transferring the estate to his brothers’ full disposal. He was only 22 years old at the time...continue reading St Elizabeth Convent

VENERABLE CASSIANI THE HYMNOGRAPHER (9th c.).

Saint Cassiani (Cassianḗ) is a well-known Byzantine poet (ποιήτρια), who lived during the reign of Emperor Theophilos (829 – 842).

She was tonsured about the year 820, and founded a convent on Xerolophos, one of Constantinople's seven hills. There (according to the monk George the Sinful) she led "an ascetic and philosophical life" which was pleasing to God. She was an energetic Igoumeness who not only regulated the life of the convent, but also found time to pursue her literary interests. She combined the talents of poet, theologian and musician, writing hymns and composing musical settings for them. Originally sung by her nuns, many of her compositions have enduring value. At least twenty-three of her hymns were later included in the Church's liturgical books.

One of Saint Cassiani's most famous hymns is sung during Matins on Holy Wednesday, on the subject of the woman who had fallen into many sins, which is based on Saint Luke's Gospel (7:36-50).

Another of her hymns is sung in the Canon of Matins for Holy Saturday, and is repeated at the Midnight Office on Holy Pascha: "Do not weep for me, O Mother, beholding in the tomb the Son Whom thou hast conceived without seed in thy womb, for I shall arise. . ."

Saint Cassiani is not mentioned in the Synaxaristes (Synaxaristés), yet the inhabitants of Kasos, because of the similarity of her name with that of their island, celebrate her Feast Day on September 7. A special Church Service was composed in her honor, and it was published in Alexandria in 1889 by the "Reformed" (or "Reorganized") printing house.

It is strange, however, that this Service was dedicated to Patriarch Sophronios of Alexandria, who in turn gave it to Metropolitan Germanos (Germanós) of Thebes to be printed (on September 1, 1889). Thus, Cassiani's glorification by the Church of Alexandria was somehow formalized, as the inhabitants of Kasos desired.

For centuries Saint Cassiani's name has appeared at the end of all the lists of Byzantine poets. The first known list was compiled by Nikephoros Kallistos Xanthopoulos (Nikēphóros Kállistos Xanthopoulos) in the first half of the XIV century.

Saint Cassiani is depicted among the holy ascetics and other monastics in the icon for the Triumph of Orthodoxy on the first Sunday of Lent.

Source: Orthodox Church in America_OCA

2 Corinthians 11:5-21

5 For I consider that I am not at all inferior to the most eminent apostles. 6 Even though I am untrained in speech, yet I am not in knowledge. But we have been thoroughly manifested among you in all things. 7 Did I commit sin in humbling myself that you might be exalted, because I preached the gospel of God to you free of charge? 8 I robbed other churches, taking wages from them to minister to you. 9 And when I was present with you, and in need, I was a burden to no one, for what I lacked the brethren who came from Macedonia supplied. And in everything I kept myself from being burdensome to you, and so I will keep myself. 10 As the truth of Christ is in me, no one shall stop me from this boasting in the regions of Achaia. 11 Why? Because I do not love you? God knows! 12 But what I do, I will also continue to do, that I may cut off the opportunity from those who desire an opportunity to be regarded just as we are in the things of which they boast. 13 For such are false apostles, deceitful workers, transforming themselves into apostles of Christ. 14 And no wonder! For Satan himself transforms himself into an angel of light. 15 Therefore it is no great thing if his ministers also transform themselves into ministers of righteousness, whose end will be according to their works. 16 I say again, let no one think me a fool. If otherwise, at least receive me as a fool, that I also may boast a little 17 What I speak, I speak not according to the Lord, but as it were, foolishly, in this confidence of boasting. 18 Seeing that many boast according to the flesh, I also will boast. 19 For you put up with fools gladly, since you yourselves are wise! 20 For you put up with it if one brings you into bondage, if one devours you, if one takes from you, if one exalts himself, if one strikes you on the face. 21 To our shame I say that we were too weak for that! But in whatever anyone is bold-I speak foolishly-I am bold also.

Matthew 22:15-22

15 Then the Pharisees went and plotted how they might entangle Him in His talk. 16 And they sent to Him their disciples with the Herodians, saying, "Teacher, we know that You are true, and teach the way of God in truth; nor do You care about anyone, for You do not regard the person of men. 17 Tell us, therefore, what do You think? Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not? 18 But Jesus perceived their wickedness, and said, "Why do you test Me, you hypocrites? 19 Show Me the tax money. So they brought Him a denarius. 20 And He said to them, "Whose image and inscription is this?" 2 They said to Him, "Caesar's." And He said to them, "Render therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's." 22 When they had heard these words, they marveled, and left Him and went their way.

[lboogie1906]

Dr. Cain Hope Felder (June 9, 1943 – October 1, 2019) was a biblical scholar, serving as a professor of New Testament language and literature and editor of The Journal of Religious Thought at the Howard University School of Divinity. He served as chair of the Doctor of Philosophy program and immediate past chair of the Doctor of Ministry program.

He taught within the Department of Biblical Studies at Princeton Theological Seminary. He worked as the first ED of Black Methodists for Church Renewal, the Black Caucus of the United Methodist Church, which was headquartered in Atlanta. Originally ordained as an elder in the UMC, he served as pastor of Grace UMC in New York City. He served as an elder in the Second Episcopal District of the AME Church, where he was appointed by Bishop Adam Jefferson Richardson as the resident biblical scholar for the district.

He served as chair of the implementation panel for the National Center for African American Heritage & Culture at Howard University.

His publications include True to Our Native Land; Troubling Biblical Waters: Race, Class, and Family; and The Original African Heritage Study Bible.

He held a Ph.D. and MA in Biblical Languages and Literature from Columbia University; an M.Div from Union Theological Seminary; a Diploma of Theology from Mansfield College at the University of Oxford; and a BA in philosophy, Greek, and Latin from Howard University. He received his secondary education at the Boston Latin School. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence #alphaphialpha

[depressedhatakekakashi]

What is everyone’s role?

I’m envisioning the Elders as school board members who don’t have relatives in the district. They block every bit of progress they can because “that’s not how we did it!”

Maybe Danzo and Hiruzen are vying for Board President? They don’t get it because they were actually embezzling funds or something. Kushina gets it instead. Because she has a kid in the district and will bring in change.

Is Sakumo a retired administrator? (Cute idea for Yua and him!: one was a teacher and one was the principal. They were both attracted to each other, but didn’t do anything until the administrator left the school/district. They’ve been inseparable since.)

I can see the elder’s as school board members getting increasingly upset when they’re ignored, but still having enough power to block meaningful changes. Tsunade HATES them and she’s right to.

Hiruzen and Danzo are so pissed when Kushina gets the job over them, but the difference is Danzo is visibly pissed but Hiruzen is at least smart enough to act like he’s happy for Kushina and step back.

Yua would not make a good long term teacher unfortunatly. She is what is known as a ‘hard ass’ and it’s more likely that Mifune was the teacher between them and Yua simply covered for him as a sub.

But Yua’s main passion would be writing, so her and Sakumo got together and she was a ‘stay at home mom’ who put out a lot of books and made some major money by doing it. By the age of 9 Kakashi was the first step editor, reading her rough drafts and telling her where there were spelling mistakes or grammer errors he could pinpoint

Sakumo liked to joke his son would make a good language teacher, but Kakashi chose history instead (even though he excelled at everything and could have chosen any subject)

Other teachers in the school include

Genma (Japanese language)

Ebisu (geography)

Rin (biology)

Obito (drama)

Kurenai (mathematics)

Asuma (civics)

Iruka (art)

Anko (chemistry)

Kakashi (history)

Gai (health and physical education)

[soranihimawari]

Hanahaki & You

A JJK story about urban legends and almost unrequited love feat. Geto Suguru & gn!reader.

Note: I finally have time to write this blurb/short out!

The first tins you meet Geto Suguru, you’re sixteen years old in the city’s underbelly. You were coerced by friends to go to the night club in the dingiest part of the town, not realizing this was also a hot spot for curses to appear. Yet you seemed unpaused by the sex workers and those friends of yours getting railed in the red light district.

Funnily enough, you’re hanging out at the bar, only asking for soda and juices from a very annoyed bartender except when the gruff looking bartender says, “Sprite and splash of cranberry curtesy of that guy,” you raise the glass and your eyebrow to the direction where the bartender pointed. The ‘guy’ in question was roughly your age, sharp jawed, and a twinge too good looking even with his ebony hair tied in a braid today. However, he had a charming smile and though he waved after you made sure it wasn’t spiked with your nail polish, you took a sip of his dry mock tails. It was tart, just like the lemons you plucked out of your neighbor’s garden.

After that initial sip, he could tell you were curious. It’s now why you’re kissing him, almost half undressed in the alley behind the rundown pub. He needed to feel something, you offered your lips to him and he was caught in surprise by your suggestion. You find his name between baited breath and how he growls yours back with his kiss swollen tongue. You’re not a curse, just a bonus, the thought seemed to haunt your mystery man. And come the morning, you wake in your bed after a full night of partying, wondering if this stranger was just that: a stranger.

Several months go by. The seasons change and now on the first day of the monsoon season, you swear you see him help a friend with ivory locks find their classmates in a demolished building. You could have sworn you heard him talk in a normal, no so turned on voice. He sounded just as divine as you imagined. A set of dark licorice eyes locks on to you, yet your attention is occupied by the captain of the baseball club who is talking your ear off about something you don’t care for. It was then one Geto Suguru experienced his first encounter with the seedling in his chest. He coughs once, then twice, blaming the dust from the demolished building. You spot him and you see him cough, you think nothing of it even if you glass a look concern his way, and carry your life as normal.

New mission, different city: this time, you are formally introduced by your cousin, Shoko, to her two best friends during fall break.

“Gojo Suguru,” she says.

“Delighted,” fair haired person says to you. Strong eyes and all.

“And this is Geto Suguru,” Shoko says this whole ushering Gojo to the other side of the living room.

When asked why she did that, she just replies with, “don’t you see? Those two have chemistry—instantly.”

You’ve spoken in length about right person, right time and he speaks with a benevolence of the logic of victim of opportunity.

“You kissed me that night in the alleyway, didn’t you?” He asks.

“You clean up well in the regular light of day,” you tease him back.

Geto Suguru, who usually is serious these days, smiles and laughs. He feels grounded with you—even if you do choose to stay friends. A dreadful feeling of what-ifs form, but Geto’s mind puts those in then back burner of his mind.

You exchange phone numbers at the end of Shoko’s impromptu gathering.

Thursday, July 9, it rains all day in the city. Geto has his tertiary coughing fit and calls Gojo says he’s going to need a full day to recover from their failed mission. The girl is dead and the elders should have managed this differently, that’s for damn sure. Geto Suguru is in his room, throwing up flowers you planted in his soul, when his text chime goes off.

•YNN (nickname): Sugu? Are you feeling better? ): the guy from the baseball club won’t leave me alone. ): help?

Geto goes out to answer your call. He’s drenched from the rain and you run to him crying saying how you were almost violated in public. Geto breathes easier when you’re close to him. You brush his loose strands behind his ear and you realize he seems like he has a fever.

“You’re coming home with me,” you don’t take no for an answer.

In your room, an hour later, Suguru’s clothes are in the dryer and you have him a clean shirt and some old scrub pants your brother bestowed upon you.

“Shower is there. The other door leads to my room, just let me know when you’re out, ok? Can’t have you getting worse on me.”

“YN?” he asks after he hears you prattle off about how Shoko became the pride and joy of your family after she acknowledges curses exist.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

A few years go by and now you’re about to celebrate your third and final spring break when you see a familiar face in your local community. You find out the pretty man is actually real especially when your friends, who were very popular for being non-virgins anymore, we’re sidelined by the pretty boy with dark hair at the graduation party.

“You,” he says all growl-like, knowing that’s just how his voice is, you perk up. “We met before, yeah?”

Too scared to speak, you cough. “Yeah.”

“Sprite glass, splash of cranberry juice?”

“Mmhm.”

“I’ve been looking,” he has this horrendous coughing fit and your friends have long since left you both alone. “For you everywhere.”

“Are you alright, Geto?”

Since that night in the rainstorm, you’ve been meeting up secretly. Putting on this show of “have we met before?” for everyone who didn’t know you two were knee deep in love. At least one of you were, the other, much like a one track minded person, you pick up the hints late.

Especially now since you’re forced to ignore the bloodied stems and petals he steps on to smash his lips on yours. And it seems he breathes easier in the all navy uniform of his school while you kiss him back, longer, harder, passionately intertwining his fate to yours.

“Geto,” he says in your ear, cradling your face and neck in his hands. “Geto Suguru. Nineteen.”

“YLN,YN. Eighteen and a half,” you linger, doe eyed and wanting.

You lean to kiss him again and he breathes better knowing you never once forgot about him. He prayed for so long to hold you close again just like in the alleyway two, three years ago by now. Now that Geto Suguru, a powerful curse user and eater, has you in his line of sight he will not let anything tarnish your beautifully striking soft features—even if it kills him.

“Upstairs,” he whispered in your ear.

He holds your hand and once you the back flight of stairs at the house part you’re at, he pulls through a door and locks it before having a coughing fit.

“Geto? Hey? Hey!” You grasp his face in your hands and you let him cough out more blood and more thorns. More petals…

“Breathe, slowly,” you say as softly as you can and he lets you bring him to the bed where after a few more coughs, he kneels in front of you. He seems of gardenias, the flowers of secret lovers. “That’s it, in and out, ok?” He nods, though his lungs are on fire.

“You have to tell me who it is, can you do that? This is hanahaki disease. Love can be poisonous. Unrequited love is lethal. Geto Suguru, gods be damned, do not die on me, ok?”

He nods weakly, muttering the role playing that you two do at parties has him looking forward to coming home every time after a long mission.

“Me too, but i can’t do it alone,” you bite back a small smirk before he confesses the name of the person who caused his torment.

“N-no,” you shake your head. “Your heart made a mistake..?”

The moon begins to shine behind him and you realize he’s not mistaken. You pull yourself together to save him as he draws his breath to be a shallower one.

“Suguru?!”

Your lips are on his the moment he didn’t respond; arms wrapped around him like any fairytale would have their lovers embrace. The poisonous blues and deep purples now coloring is most prominent veins stop their spreading the longer you kiss him, the more you breathe for him, the more your heart breaks because of you’d have known truly, you would have been with him from the start.

You both remain like this for a few minutes before you feel him clutch your arm and he pulls you closer as he regains consciousness.

“Hi,” you press a kiss to his cheek.

“You solved it,” Geto’s voice is gruff and scratchy as the last stems are pulled out of his esophagus, bloodied and thorn filled.

“My first love was dying in my arms,” you read your forehead against his, a hand on his chest, the other sports the back of his head. You look like the Renaissance sculpture la Pieta. And Geto’s ears park up at what you called him.

“Been in love with you since last year when you and I exchanged kisses in the alley…”

Geto tries to talk, but you shake your head.

“Be honest with me next time, not like there will be one, but please…” you start to sniffle and he wipes the stray tears rolling down on your face. “Don’t scare me like that. I didn’t even get a chance to confess.”

Geto chuckles whenever he catches you by his sudden movement to pin you to the floor. His eye brows furrowed in confusion because he could have sworn that you were in a relationship with anyone else.

“Nope. Just you.”

Geto Suguru experiences his first and only shot at true love at nineteen. You let him love you for as long as he can until he takes you to his home village right before the blood moon rises…