#juliet immortal

[books-to-add-to-your-tbr]

Title: Juliet Immortal

Author: Stacey Jay

Series or standalone: series

Publication year: 2011

Genres: fiction, fantasy, romance, paranormal, retelling, supernatural

Blurb: Juliet Capulet didn't take her own life. She was murdered by the person she trusted most: her new husband, Romeo Montague, who made the sacrifice to ensure his own immortality. But Romeo didn't anticipate that Juliet would be granted eternal life as well, and would become an agent for the Ambassadors of Light. For seven hundred years, Juliet has struggled to preserve romantic love and the lives of the innocent, while Romeo has fought for the dark side, seeking to destroy the human heart...until now. Now, Juliet has found her own forbidden love, and Romeo will do everything in his power to destroy their happiness.

[mmmairon]

@boar-zine preview of farmer diluc and my sweet Juliet napping

[aliteratepenguin]

obviously I know modern language changes what Shakespeare meant 400 years ago but Lady Capulet greeting Juliet with “what, are you busy, ho?” is taking me out. sounds more like something Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way would say tbh

[natjennie]

I really really wish these last seasons of lost were gripping me like the first three did. there's interesting shit going on but I just find myself not caring about any of it. I'll finish it eventually but fuck it's a slog at the moment.

[spiritedfox]

tag dump auuugh auuug auaughhh

[candont]

The Mortal Immortal

I kind of want there to be more to this story than there is.  It’s just kind of light considering it comes from the author of Frankenstein and that the opening is so reference heavy.  (Wiki-wormhole did cause me to uncover that Lefanu’s Great Grandmother wrote weird/fantastic fiction.  See: The History of Nourjahad ).

Still the ending tension between wanting to and not wanting too die does raise it above just escapist fare.

Am left with two questions though:

When does the it would be terrible to live foreveer thing first emerge as a trope?

And what kind of a name in Winzy?

[bugonmywindow]

- Romeo Redeemed

[modawg]

i feel like no one aside from the reader truly understands how insanely loving percabeth is

the amount of trust and knowledge they have of eachother

they’re truly obsessed

annabeth

gave up immortality from artemis

searched for percy for 2 weeks when he exploded in the volcano

took a poison dagger for him

punched his bully in the face

gave up immortality on circe’s island

searched for him for 6+ months and regularly checked on his family while he was gone

percy

gave up immortality on calypso’s island

hijacked a quest so he could go find her instead of just waiting like everyone else

stood infront of her multiple times to keep her safe

gave up immortality and a place in olympus by the gods

searched and only thought of her when he was on the run for 2 months and she was the only one he remembered

grabbed and fell into tartarus for/with her

and this is just stuff i thought of off the top of my head

like OBSESSED there isn’t a world where they aren’t together and they truly are like romeo and juliet taking bullets for eachother they simply just refuse to die

also idk why but i keep seeing ppl talking abt if annabeth had fallen into tartarus without percy and i genuinely don’t think there’s a universe where he would’ve allowed that to happen and he would’ve gone ape shit fighting whoever to jump down that hole to go with her

same with annabeth but i think it would’ve been easier for them to like chain her to the argo in comparison to percy but she would’ve actually hurt people trying to help him

[actual-changeling]

Welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner, and today I have something surprisingly not kiss-related—though it is still about the final fifteen because hey, gotta keep the brand image.

I read this post by @goodoldfashionednightingale and began typing a small response. Then I made the mistake of drinking half a litre of coffee on an empty stomach right after taking my adhd meds and my brain began vibrating at the speed of light.

But oh, have I discovered parallels. This, my friends, is about the nightingale, where it comes from, what it means, and what the fuck happened in part 3 of 1941.

Ready? Let's go.

Now, as OP said in her post, s1e3 is important. In the script book, Neil himself says that these flashbacks are where the producers would tell him to cut scenes to save money. They suggested every single one—except for the one he ended up taking out, which was the bookshop opening scene set in 1800. The others are building blocks, you need them to see how their relationship progressed and what kind of important milestones they had.

(side note: author is very miffed that english does not have a separate subjunctive form like german which makes quoting lines way more confusing than it has to be)

The one I want to mention is neither 1941 nor 1967. No, what I want to talk about is 1601. This might be about to get a bit rambly but I will do my best to keep it tidy.

The focus of that flashback is on the Arrangement, yes, but it gives us a lot more information than that.

they both see Shakespeare's plays regularly, maybe even meet in the crowd

Crowley prefers the comedies

Aziraphale does not seem to have a preference, he enjoys the tragedies and presumably the comedies too

there is an oyster woman selling food -> reference to their meeting in Rome when Aziraphale tempted him to try some oysters

Aziraphale reflexively denies their relationship

Crowley might say he is not worried but circles Aziraphale the entire time, keeping watch

they both ask favours of each other and both agree to do them

What stands out to me in relation to what I am about to expand on is the line that Crowley delivers after Aziraphale's little 'buck up'—which Crowley finds adorable btw but that's a post for another time.

"Age does not wither nor custom stale his infinite variety."

Why would he say that? What exactly is prompting this? WHY say that specific line?

At first I thought it might be to tempt Shakespeare because he does commit art theft by just copying that line down, BUT I think there is more to that. So much more, in fact. I am wiggling now because I am very excited about this and my adhd meds are kicking in anyway.

First things first: the line itself.

It appears in Shakespeare's play Antony and Cleopatra, a romantic tragedy, which was first performed in 1607 aka six years after this meeting. Enobarbus is talking about Cleopatra and describing why Antony won't leave her. Her.

Ccrowley uses his—again, who is he even talking about? Hamlet? Shakespeare? Random poetic quote?

No, I think this line is about Aziraphale and it's a code. Right after, the next line from Aziraphale is "What do you want?", meaning that this is their code phrase for 'I have a favour to ask of you'.

Age does not wither nor custom stale his infinite variety

Age will not affect his appearance nor will he ever become boring to Antony. Crowley, who later chooses the name Anthony for himself, tells Aziraphale, an immortal, that he will never age and that he will never grow bored of him.

It's flattery, pure and simple, and it's code at the same time. This establishes the important fact that they might use more of Shakespeare's work as code/already have a system in place (even though he steals Crowley's line for later).

They play their little morality game of back and forth, Aziraphale agrees, Crowley probably manipulates the coin toss, and THEN we find out that the oyster woman is called Juliet.

Why? What is the meaning of that? Why give her a name and that name in particular? Why bring the sexy oysters back into it?

Romeo and Juliet premiered in 1597, so it is safe to assume they have both seen it by 1601, but this is mostly for the audience, not for us-or is it?

Aziraphale gives Crowley puppy eyes until he agrees to make Hamlet popular, and while I don't think Juliet itself is a code word, although it's very interesting that the OYSTER woman is the one with that name (especially adding what we now know about Job), Romeo and Juliet might be.

Yes, the Nightingale song came out in 1940 but the bird has been around for much, much longer, and, as many probably know by now, also shows up in Romeo and Juliet.

This is where I am starting to vibrate at the speed of light because listen to me. Listen.

Crowley is Juliet. Anthony J. Crowley. Antony Juliet Crowley.

(side note: I'm not saying that Crowley chose it based on that—though I am not not saying that—but that it is a clue for us at the audience.)

Why do I think that? In the play, Romeo spends the night with Juliet and then goes to leave as the night begins to end. Juliet tries to stop him and tells him that the birds they are hearing aren't larks, which sing at dawn, but nightingales, which sing at night.

Who is the one always pushing for more? Crowley. He is the one trying to convince Aziraphale it's safe, they're safe to spend time together.

Romeo disagrees with Juliet and says 'I must be gone and live, or stay and die'.

Leave and stay alive, or stay and hell/heaven will punish us. It gets even better though.

We all know how Romeo and Juliet ends: Romeo thinks Juliet is dead, kills himself, Juliet finds him and then kills herself too.

Hey, do you know how Antony and Cleopatra ends?

Antony thinks Cleopatra is dead, kills himself and dies in her arms, then Cleopatra also kills herself—by snake poison; Romeo also died by poison.

The parallels are THERE. They are jumping down our throats! Two tragedies, two sides, several familiar names and phrases, same fear, same ending.

I think by now you can guess how this ties back to 1941.

We do not see how that night ends, but we know it ends. One of them wants to stretch it out, maybe even quotes Romeo and Juliet because look at the setting!

Candlelight, wonderful night they spend together, the threat of Crowley's early demise, and, to quote the play once more, this time Romeo: I have more care to stay than will to go.

Crowley thought it was his last night on earth and went with Aziraphale to his bookshop, to be with him, because he cares more about that than the fact that he will be dragged to hell come morning. Do you remember?

"Expect a legion to come for you first thing tomorrow" THAT is the threat. They have until dawn, just like Romeo and Juliet, which is why she is so desperate for the birds to be nightingales. Fortunately for them, Aziraphale saves the day, BUT there is NO SECURITY. They do not KNOW if a legion will still show up or not. If dawn is a deadline and they will need to fight.

Sure, they improved their chances, but who knows? Maybe they will come for him anyway, it's not like hell is all fair and square.

The best part: it gets even better.

Juliet eventually panics and tells him to go, and Romeo drops a line that huh, sounds oddly familiar, doesn't it?

'More light and light, more dark and dark our woes!'

Remind me, what does Aziraphale say again? Ah, yes. Perhaps there is something to be said for shades of grey.

There is more. Yes, even more. We know the whole rescue relies on a magic trick, a switch. Guess what Juliet yearns for while telling Romeo to go save himself?

Oh, now I would they had changed voices too. While they did not for Romeo and Juliet—they kiss and part—they did for our two. One fabulous switch and we're good.

(side note: Toads? Associated with hell. Larks? Associated with the dawn, yes, but also heaven since Romeo says 'Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat the vaulty heaven so high above our heads.')

So, this was a whole lot of information, let's see if I can summarize my thoughts.

I believe the nightingale is a code word that has existed even before 1941 and gained a lot of importance over the years. In 1941, the song is added to the meaning and whatever happened between the two that we have not seen yet, it fundamentally changed their relationship. Maybe they kissed, maybe one of them tried to convince the other to prolong the night but they parted on not-great terms.

The nightingale and the song become a symbol of hope, a goal to achieve, another uninterrupted night, maybe, or an uninterrupted life.

When they part in the final fifteen, it's morning. Crowley points at the sky and says "no nightingales", which at that point has several different layers to it.

No nightingales because their night is over, just like with Romeo and Juliet, and please, please allow me to add another detail, because I am frothing at the mouth over this. The scene I quoted, known as balcony scene, do you know what it is preceded by?

A ball.

Star-crossed lovers defying their sides, falling in love at a ball, getting a hurried, wonderful night together but torn apart by danger of punishment, the nightingale as a dream, as a wish for unhurried time together. Family rejection, torn apart by parents, willing to die for each other so they can reunite in death.

No nightingales. The ball, the romance, is over, their dancing is over, heaven is tearing them apart, and Aziraphale returns to heaven while they are both stuck in a pit of misunderstanding and miscommunication, all bound together by fear for each other.

The thing is, Crowley hates tragedies, he never liked the "gloomy ones", and he does not want them to end in one—luckily, this isn't the end. Yes, they kiss and part, but the play keeps going. We have an entire act 3 to fix what Romeo and Juliet couldn't, to ensure that this is a COMEDY, not a tragedy.

Both Antony & Cleopatra and Romeo & Juliet died out of fear, hurried into making bad decisions because they knew what would happen if their sides were to catch up with them.

Crowley and Aziraphale can reunite heaven and hell with love, not death. This is THEIR story and they are writing the ending. No more day and night, no more deadlines, no more hiding and sneaking about, no more fear of larks and sunshine.

Good Omens will end the way it began: In a garden with two no-longer-star-crossed lovers embracing the song of a lark as well as that of the nightingale.

I hope this made sense to everyone who was no present while my mind started to vibrate itself into a puddle because the thing is I can see Neil doing all of this completely on purpose.

Thoughts? Questions? Additions? Come and join me in my insanity and until next time I have a mental breakdown over this show (probably in like two hours).

[sjbattleangel]

(Sorry I had to shorten some quotes)

From: Anna Karenina-Leo Tolstoy A Tale Of Two Cities-Charles Dickens Moby Dick-Herman Melville Pride & Prejudice-Jane Austen War Of The Worlds-H.G. Wells The Iliad-Homer The Great Gatsby-F. Scott Fritzgerald The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer-Mark Twain The Adventures Of Huckleberry Finn-Mark Twain The Divine Comedy-Dante Alighieri Romeo & Juliet-William Shakespeare My Immortal-Tara Gilesbie

[hekateinhell]

Welcome, Armand lovers! I’m so excited it's finally time to share my little project with you! 🖤

From November 1 - December 5, I'll be hosting Good to Embrace, Good to Love, a fandom event celebrating Armand's relationships with his four greatest loves—Marius, Lestat, Louis, and Daniel—from the book series The Vampire Chronicles.

Each week will be dedicated to one of these ships, with a bonus week of prompts that can be used for some of the many others Armand has loved in his long immortal life i.e., Bianca, Nicolas, etc.

There will be two prompts per day: a quote from the books that represents an aesthetic of the ship + a word/sentence prompt. Do one, do both, combine them—it doesn't matter as long as you have fun!

AUs and genderswaps are more than welcome!

𝕲𝖚𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘

Submissions can include fic, art, meta, headcanons, graphics, playlists, crafts, whatever!

Submissions must focus on a romantic and/or sensual element of the ship. It is ship fest, after all!

Ship combinations (threesomes or more) are also welcome—you decide which week you want to post! For example: an Armand/Lestat/Louis fic can be posted either during Week 2 (Lestat) or Week 3 (Louis).

Bonus week prompts can be used for whatever Armand ship your heart desires! And if you want to use them for Marius, Lestat, Louis, or Daniel, go for it!

Tag your submissions #ArmandShipFest and I’ll do my best to reblog! 🖤

AO3 collection here!

𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖘 𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖜 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖚𝖙!

Day 1: “A blending of sadness and simple grace” / Love Affair with Damnation

Day 2: “You took my blood and it made you my slave” / Greedy Creature

Day 3: “I would have given all the world to see him white again, my marble god, my graven Father in our private bed.” / Paternal

Day 4: “My frankly carnal embraces” / Fateful Moment

Day 5: “I want to be a fool for you.” / Bruise

Day 6: “Be my challenger, be my questioner, be my bold and ungrateful pupil.” / Rebirth

Day 7: FREE DAY

Day 1: “Cinderella revealed at the ball” / Succubus

Day 2: “You break my heart, you little fool. You always did.” / Heartbreaker

Day 3: “Stinging insults and worshipful analyses” / Yearning

Day 4: “You look good to me, you damnable little devil” / Fatal Attraction

Day 5: “I wanted to polish him with kisses, clean him up, make him even more radiant than he was.” / Dress Up

Day 6: “I hate you as much as I have ever loved you.” / Enemies to Lovers or Lovers to Enemies

Day 7: FREE DAY

Day 1: “The only promise of good in evil of which I could conceive.” / Enchanted

Day 2: “You would yield to me now” / The Alluring Embodiment of Misery

Day 3: “I want you more than anything in the world.” / Evanescent Flush

Day 4: “A stranger to himself and to me.” / Withering Rose

Day 5: “To seek for grace once more” / Pillars of the Household

Day 6: “Elegant phantoms in our lace and velvet” / Flame

Day 7: FREE DAY

Day 1: “I like kissing. And snuggling with dead things” / Cold To The Touch

Day 2: “Let me be a lover in the Savage Garden with you” / Exquisite Monsters

Day 3: “The freedom, the power, and the luxury” / Million Dollar Man

Day 4: Dark-Eyed Cupid / Erotic Anguish

Day 5: “Say the word my love, I'll do it. We'll be in hell together after all.” / Unholy Consequences

Day 6: “There was never any innocence for us, there was never any springtime.” / Hunting In The Rain

Day 7: FREE DAY

Day 1: “These violent delights have violent ends”* / Cage

Day 2: “You look like an angel and hold forth like a tavern knave” / The Devil's Road

Day 3: “Not made by human hands” / Lotus

Day 4: “Yet he seems the naughty boy who mocks all things” / Careless Words

Day 5: “In the very depths of Hell, do demons not love one another?” / Home

Day 6: “Vile precocious child” / Drunk

Day 7: FREE DAY

*This is the only quote not directly lifted from the books, it’s taken from Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet.

**a huge thank you to the lovely @apoptoses for the graphics, and to the Morzoi Girlies (gn) for assisting me with the prompts and always hyping me up! Love you lots. 🖤

[driaswrld]

🪷 — A ROYAL AFFAIR . . . THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT

LADY DRIA WRITES . . . ˚ ༘ *

🪷 dearest gentle reader, in matters of love and longing, prince satoru comes to the realization that love may only visit the fearless, whilst prince suguru comes to terms with the taste of hope on his tongue... 5k words.

🪷 prince gojo x reader x prince geto jjk regency/royal au, romeo & juliet esque balcony meeting, fruit flavored jealousy.

CHAPTER TWO. . . ˚ ༘ *

GRAPE FLAVORED.

Sleep eludes you tonight.

Two nights have passed since the first feast and despite Areta’s consistent chatter of appearances and well needed fun time for a lady of your stature — you’ve chosen not to attend the others for the time being.

You’re assured that Satoru’s presence at the feasts and balls in between remain slim to none unless called upon by his mother, a notion that you would be grateful for under any other circumstance to dodge the question everyone at the palace court whispers behind your back—

( why hasn’t the prince married her yet? )

—but you miss him.

Embarrassingly so.

With palms outstretched, you cradle your weight against the concrete rail of the terrace adjoined to your bedroom. A wisp of wind cooling your cheeks, realization settling in.

You miss Satoru — your best friend, your person.

You miss when he’d sleepily stumble into your alcove by the palace’s west wing and lay dramatically before you, begging you to paint him or at least sketch the width of his shoulders ; begging you to 'immortalize the omnipotent beauty of the realm’s strongest' — his words not yours.

The way he’d linger by your side, laugh at your jokes and make even cruder ones of his own—

This yearning settled deep within your bones akin to that of a grieving widow doesn’t feel the way it should feel when one misses a friend.

( satoru does not yearn for you in this way, you know it. )

It’s hot, a boiling pit within your stomach and it never leaves your veins—

—not until two nights ago, that is.

Two nights ago when he reappeared.

“Your highness?”

Dearest gentle reader,

in these delicate matters

of love and longing—

“My lady,” Suguru calls out in a similarly hushed fashion. “You're awake.”

Down below the terrace, he stands on the trimmed lawn in his sleep trousers and shirt, dark hair tousled and eyes half lidded — you would've laughed at him if the air between you two hadn't settled with something else.

“I couldn't sleep,” you respond, watching with bated breath as he steps forward, one foot resting atop a raised brick in the mud, eyes trained above, where you stand.

“You often take late strolls, your grace?”

Suguru laughs, breathy, soft. “Your grace,” he repeats your words, mockingly. A few dark strands fall over his eyes as he tilts his head back to look up at you. “You’d think having me in my sleeping trousers alone would be enough for you to discard all formalities—”

( right, this encounter is improper. )

“Forgive me, Suguru,” leaves your lips in correction. You lean further over the terrace rail, body bent in near half to gaze down at him. “It isn't often I speak with men while in my dressing gown.”

“Dear God, I hope not.”

A laugh of your own breaks through and he joins in unison.

So far, and yet so close.

A soft silence soon passes over the two of you under the moonlight.

Suguru, who’d been away for so long, could make years of absence feel null — as if he’d been residing here with you all this time. As if he had been keeping your company in tow, as if the breath of your laugh belonged to him.

As if he hadn't left you.

“I wondered,” Suguru breaks the silence, pale fist wrapping around a stray vine along the wall. “If I would get the chance to speak with you like this.” He whispers, but even from so high above, you hear him clearly in the night's silence.

You know what he means. Just us two. You’ve wondered the same, albeit too often through the years.

Why didn't you write to me? You want to ask. Why didn't you come to visit? Follows next in your brain. Did you move on? Did you fall in love?

( have you been happy away from me? )

“Did you read my letters?”

—often we forget

just how greedy

the heart can be.

“All of them,” Suguru breathes, almost like it hurts to say.

As if it pains him physically to remember how he tore the wax seals open with his teeth, licked the flap of the envelopes and nearly cried when it tasted of you—

“More than once, more than I ought to.”

Suguru grips the vine tighter in his fist, stilling himself and invoking restraint. This isn't his place, not anymore.

If he had it his way, he’d be on the terrace with you, and he’d tell you every thought he had about each word you’d written, with his hands, his teeth, his tongue.

“Suguru. . .”

It reminds you too much of your childhood.

Often you would chase after Satoru and Suguru.

Always both, never one.

And though you knew your fate as a Princess — who would marry a crowned Prince — your foolish heart, so greedy and naive. . .

“I have my obligations.” It leaves your lungs like a lie, something you won't even begin to believe.

You're betrothed to Satoru. It's set in stone.

But the both of you know that's not why you're saying no. “The solstice ends in a week and you will be—” He'll be gone again.

“I’ll not wait a whole week.” Suguru’s voice is still quiet, but even you can't deny the raw hunger behind his words. “If I apologize and say that I wish—”

“You will do no such thing,” you warn, shakily. “Not now, not. . . because of this.” Not because in nearly every way that matters, you’re Satoru’s.

( i wish i told you. i wish i wasn't too late. i wish )

Suguru wished he had stayed.

He wished he had made do on the promises he made to you as children and been at your side, not just as your friend but as the man you would marry—

All those things he had sworn upon his own heart. . .

“Who’ll marry you if you spend your days swinging a sword and broadening your shoulders?”

“And if I say I will, what then?” Suguru had scoffed at your cousin back then. At the mere age of twelve.

“Aren’t there girls your age you can follow around? I don’t care if you’re a princess, we’re not friends.”

“Don't be so crass, Satoru.” Suguru grumbled, grabbing ahold of your hand and tugging you forward the moment you fell behind. “She's my friend.”

( and yet. )

Lady Dria writes : Prince Geto to assume royal estate in the North following rumored betrothal to mystery woman! Is this the end of our beloved royal trio?

( duty came first. )

“I don’t know why you’d believe he’d ever want to court you.”

“I’ll let you keep your tongue,” Satoru scoffed, stepping between you and one of the ladies at court the day after Suguru left. “But address the Princess so loosely again and I swear—”

That night, you cried in the confines of Satoru’s private chambers, your fingers bleeding ink and red wax staining the front of your dress.

What was her name? How long had Suguru known it was arranged? Why didn't he tell you? If you ask him now, will he tell you? Is he ever coming back?

Does he love her?

And it was then, when you didn't have any more words to write, nothing left to say to Suguru that he might not have known, did Satoru tell you,

“I’m here.”

And you believed him.

“Name—” Suguru calls to you and you shake your head, straightening your posture and leaning off the terrace rail. “I wanted to say it before, you were gorgeous at the first solstice feast. . . Still are, even after so long.”

Suguru bites back the words he really wanted to say. I dreamt of you, you look the same.

“You flatter me,” it leaves you breathily, and the beats of your heart elude your better judgement.

“Perhaps, silken gloves suit you, my lady.” Suguru's words hold an undertone that’s lost on you in the moment, yet still you smile at him.

He doesn't see the expression on your face when you turn away, craning his neck to find something— some inclination that he has a chance—

“Goodnight, your highness.” In your voice he finds it, that small sliver of nostalgia, and his heart grasps it in earnest.

Beloved reader,

I fear I must also

impart the knowledge—

Satoru stops dead in his tracks, a single peach colored rose falling from his palm.

—that there are always

three sides to a story.

From across the way his cerulean eyes lock with Suguru’s darker ones, and there is nothing to be said, as they both know what the other is thinking.

You are not worthy of her.

Morning gives way to the first of three hunting days.

As per the terms of the competition, all commoners go ahead before nobles to keep the proceedings fair.

Satoru sits still atop his horse, cerulean orbs downcast and flitting through the mass of bodies in the crowd riding ahead of him.

“Have you and Suguru finally fought?”

Satoru’s eyes widen for a brief moment, turning his head to the side and loosening his grip on the horse’s reins, his mother standing at his side, caressing the mare’s mane with jewel adorned fingers.

“I’ve no idea what you mean, mother.”

The older woman scoffs, the horse leaning eagerly into the touch of her palm.

“When you and Suguru were but meek babes, you two had your first fight you know.” Satoru’s mother smiles a little at the memory.

Back then, both boys were merely toddlers and squabbling with tiny fists over nothing but a simple rattle.

Neither would concede to the other.

Even so young, they fought as they still do to this day. As rivals, as best friends.

“Did I win?” Satoru asks, lifting his gaze to the scenery of dawn before him, drowning out the eager shouts of men and women alike, placing their bets for the competition to come.

“No,” she responds and Satoru’s lips curl into a small frown. “The rattle you fought over snapped in two, ‘toru.”

This isn't about a rattle, is it?

“I won't concede, if that’s what you’ve come to ask of me.” He affirms, and his mother shakes her head, stifling a laugh.

“She isn't a rattle, nor is this a battlefield—” Satoru’s mother is observant, painfully so. “I asked your father to arrange the match myself for the sole purpose that I know you care for her, and I would not subject you to a fate not of your choosing—”

( she can choose, whereas a rattle could not. that is the sole difference is it not? )

“But you would have me sit here and let her choose him?”

Satoru Gojo is many things.

Selfish, spoiled, strong. Greedy even.

He fights for what he wants and he remains determined to win no matter what.

But when it comes to you. . .

Doting reader,

our beloved Prince Satoru

has yet to realize—

“I did not raise a selfish fool. Maybe a proud fool but not a selfish one—” She smacks the side of his leg to which he immediately recoils with a pout on his lips. “You never win love, you earn it.”

As if love can be akin to fleeting favor.

“I am selfish,” Satoru confirms, not shy of shame though. “She would hate me for it, if she doesn't already.” He hangs his head for a brief moment, a puff of a sigh leaving his parted lips. “But can you blame me?”

Satoru is many things.

But not blind.

How can he tell you that he cares for you, that he’s fallen helplessly and carelessly in love with you knowing that he’d be imprisoning you to a fate he loathes?

Whispers behind your back the more you are seen with him or without, the more he puts off the betrothal, the more he leaves your side the more he hopes you’ll learn you don't want him—

That this life, at this palace is less than you deserve.

And yet. . .

—that love is not

a war you march into

of your own accord.

He’s selfish.

“Have you asked her what she wants?”

No, because he’s afraid you’ll say what he wants you to. That you don't want him.

That by the hour you grow more miserable the more he keeps you waiting, tethered by a short thread just waiting to snap—

Satoru convinced himself that if he waited just a little longer, that maybe you’d grow tired and snap the thread all together in one go.

And then the marriage wouldn't happen, you’d contest it and he'd agree. He could keep you close like before, without breaking your heart, even at the cost of his.

“Satoru.” His mother warns, deep azure boring into the side of his face. “That debutant at the dinner—” God forbid she did raise a selfish fool, who would selfishly self sabotage—

“I never touched her.”

“You say that and then you do these things as if I'm to be convinced you've changed.” His mother sighs, as if history has come around to repeat itself. “You don't even realize you're clutching your end too tight.”

And you’ll break if he doesn't let go.

“I can't tell her.”

“You must.”

Who is he to condemn you to the life of a Queen?

In the same way his father did his mother?

That spark in your eyes will go dim, and he’ll watch you give yourself to your duty and it’ll kill him, even worse than you not wanting him will.

He’d prefer you hate him altogether.

“Are you happy with father?”

Darling reader,

perhaps love

only visits the fearless.

“Your father is a good man.”

Satoru would rather die by his own hand before he hears those words from your lips too.

“My lady?”

You visibly wince, cowering behind one of the marble columns in the ballroom.

The few chandeliers that provide light do little to help your situation as Areta’s voice had already notified a few of the dancing nobles of your presence — to which you were met with confused stares.

“Please, keep your voice down.” You hush her, sliding around to the other side of the column where Areta stands, eyes wide and curious.

Areta’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, her lips parting, about to question your odd behavior.

You're hiding. Or at least trying to.

You had no choice in coming to tonight's festivities, as you were already knee deep in your pre-arranged afternoon nap when your dearest mother barged in and asked ( read : demanded ) that you attended tonight's ball to quote en quote ‘keep up appearances.’

With much practiced skill, you’ve eluded Satoru and Suguru by barring yourself in your room recently.

But, cowering behind a column won't get you far, right?

“I don't think hiding is what I mean when I encouraged you to have fun, my lady.” Areta speaks hushedly, joining you behind the column, two full glasses clutched between her fingers. “And if it’s the Prince who you—”

“Oh, spare me, which one?” You chuckle, tilting your head back onto the marble with an eye roll.

“You’ve had trouble with Prince Geto too?” Areta gasps, though not shocked, the young girl's eyes gloss over with curiosity — ever the devoted gossip.

( perhaps if you stay here and sip drinks with Areta, no one will even notice your presence ! )

Devoted reader,

our protagonist

has a pattern of

terrible judgement.

“Hardly trouble, I’m afraid.” You take one of the glasses from Areta’s hands and bring the rim to your nose — grape juice. How fitting. “Trouble would be better, I can handle trouble.”

What you can't handle is both your childhood friends driving you mad with feelings you never even knew existed.

One who torments you with mixed signals and provokes new feelings in the pit of your stomach.

And another who stirs and awakens old feelings inside of you that you thought were long lost.

“Well, I doubt trouble is what you need presently, my lady.” Areta chuckles a little, her voice soon trailing off as she takes a sip of her own drink. “Oh! You wore them—”

“I thought perhaps,” You murmur, more to yourself, fingers fiddling with the edge of your silk gloves – the same black ones from a few nights ago. “I’d wear them once more before I set them aside.”

Now that you think about it, Satoru never said anything about the dress or the gloves — not that it matters to you anyway.

Faithful reader,

it matters.

Too much.

“They're quite beautiful, as are all Prince Satoru’s gifts.” Areta affirms with a soft smile as you drink from your glass, leaning off the column and straightening your posture. “But, I thought he usually had more of an affinity for lace—”

“I was called?”

You jump just a little, turning immediately to meet the source of the intrusion, to which you bump straight into Satoru, spilling the contents of your cup on both of you.

“I’m sorry—” “Grape juice—”

You take a few steps back, immediately crouching to retrieve your fallen cup, but Areta beats you to it, not shy of shooting you a quick wink before she scurries off into the crowd. Deviant.

“You don't like the wine tonight?” Satoru hums, outstretching a hand to pull you to your feet, and you hesitate for a moment.

Only for a moment.

“I didn't think drinking would be wise,” You take his hand, silk sliding soft against his awaiting palm. You don't miss the way his shoulders tighten. “And grape juice—”

“Is your preferred drink of choice, I know.” He finishes, cerulean orbs gazing into your very soul.

You can feel the thrum of his pulse speeding up against your fingertips, calling you, like a siren song. . .

( you should've stayed in bed tonight. )

Admittedly, Satoru was never the type to drink either. He could never hold his alcohol, hated the taste, even if it was just a drop in fermented fruit.

Grape juice was his drink of choice.

And then it became yours.

“I’m sorry, again.” It leaves your lips in a hurry as you look away from him, pulling your hand back as soon as you're upright. “My head must've been somewhere else. . .” Last night on the terrace. Your mind remains there.

Is Suguru going to magically appear too?

You furiously rub a fist over the purple stain forming at the front of your gown. “I need to change my dress—”

“It's not your fault, silk can be slippery.” Satoru bites back a grunt, bringing a palm to your elbow as he guides you off to the side, towards the adjacent corridor. “Come, I’ll help.”

Silk.

( what's his problem with the gloves? )

You follow his lead, a sigh escaping your lips as you both come upon the nearest alcove in the dim light.

You can barely see the velvet cushioning of the sofa tucked away neatly in the back.

The soft moonlight falling through the open window brings a sense of calm when you take a seat, eyes catching on the violet smudge against Satoru’s pearl white vest.

Often in your youth between balls, you, Satoru and Suguru would sneak off to the nearest alcove you could find, pry the window open and sit together on the sill—

“Your vest—” He follows your gaze as he bends a knee, kneeling at your feet casually.

Satoru presses his middle finger over the damp fabric, and unabashedly sticks the digit into his mouth. “Mhm, that's grape juice.”

“Satoru!” You scold.

He only laughs, strands of snowy hair bouncing with each shake of his shoulders. It's a very Satoru-like laugh, but there's something else you can't quite place—

“It's just a juice spill, I’ll live.” Satoru’s smile dips into his cheeks. Dimples. “Hated this stupid thing anyway, I should be thanking you for ridding me of it,” he murmurs, rolling his shoulders back to slip the vest off, muscles taut against his shirt with each movement of his arms.

“Hey— hey—!” You raise your palms to push against his chest to stop him, heat rising at the back of your neck. “Don't do that—” It comes out too late because Satoru is in the middle of rolling the vest off his arms. "You can't just undress—"

The way Satoru only leans forward, shades of azure searching your gaze for something, it's like he's daring you to not look away as he slips the vest off his arms bent behind him.

( why did you run away from me? )

You hold his gaze, the longest you have in days, manicured nails digging into the fabric of his shirt.

( why didn't you give chase? )

“Name,” he whispers, as if he’s holding back, but he refuses to look away from you. Not right now.

“Don't look at me like that, ‘toru. . .” You whisper, and it takes everything inside you not scream at him, to say everything you've been wanting to say, everything that's burning your insides.

( don't look at me as if you know desire. )

“Name.” Satoru calls your name, firmer this time, just as his vest drops to the floor behind him.

His knees burn, or maybe his eyes — he doesn't know, his mouth has gone dry and oxygen eludes him.

He's not how he was in your youth.

Satoru slides a pale hand up to grasp one of your palms against his chest, pads of his fingers hooking under the dark silk, and in one fluid motion, he's pulling the glove off your hand.

“That's disrespectful,” you breathe, voice barely audible, the echo of classical instruments sauntering through the vacant corridor. “You can't have two times the favor in any competition—”

“It's not your favor I want.” Satoru grasps the silk in his palm, biting back a grimace.

I’m jealous, he wants to say. Instead he leans closer, and without letting go of your bare hand, he’s aiming to toss the glove over your shoulder and out the window.

“Satoru—!” You retract your hand from his chest to paw at the glove, trying to get it back, and his breath tickles the skin of your throat, his eyes looking down at you, only this time a few shades darker — royal blue, cobalt.

Perhaps, silken gloves suit you, my lady.

( so that's what suguru meant. . . )

“Are you—”

“Jealous? Me? Never.” Satoru rasps the words out like a cancer, his heart seizing and doing somersaults against his ribcage.

“I have to commend Suguru though, the North does make the finest silk. . . Any lady would be glad for such a gift,” he whispers. Even praising Suguru is like an act of surrender to him.

“I wasn't going to say jealous, my Prince.” Your brain melts to a mush of questions.

Satoru isn't jealous because of you— no, that can't be right— he’d be jealous if someone bet on the same horse race as him and won—

( you’re thinking too much, name. )

It's the assessment of his audacity that has the back of your neck heated.

Satoru bites down on his bottom lip, and for a second he squeezes his eyes shut.

Everything burns, it's a miracle he can still see straight.

“What were you going to say?”

You swallow, hard.

Satoru’s face is so close to yours that every word he speaks reverberates through your being like electricity. “I was going to ask if you were okay.” A half truth, really. "Your vest is stained—"

First, you were going to ask if he’d lost his damn mind.

“God, name.” Satoru grunts, dropping the glove dramatically onto the velvet sofa, instead moving his hand to cage you between his arms, his hips against the outerskirts of your dress. “You don't even know what you're doing. . .”

His lips curve into a smile, dimpled cheeks staring back at you.

“Satoru—” It’s innocent enough, the way he leans forward enough to press the side of his face against your cheek.

It’s innocent enough, the way his hand grips your hip, firm and reassuring, the way he’d guide you on horseback. You only pretended not to be good so he'd teach you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against the shell of your ear, his lips soft against your burning skin.

“Do you even know all the ways a woman can be seduced?” It's a sultry tease that has your nails digging into the sofa under you.

Silk gloves, he wants to say. Men seduce women with silk.

Satoru dips his head in a swift motion, his mouth planting a ghost of a kiss to the corner or your lips, and his dimples deepen when your head moves forward to chase his taste, something you’ve never had but crave with every inch of your being.

“Satoru.” You whisper, desperate. He hates himself for wanting this so bad.

He doesn't make you wait long as he presses his lips to yours, it's rough, hungry — he sighs into your mouth, shoulders drooping like he’s finally found what he's been searching for all his life on your tongue.

He’s kissed you before, on the cheek, side of your neck, corner of your mouth — tasted the salty tears of your youth, licked his lips and drank in the remnants of your flavored lipgloss.

He was too young then, too foolish, too afraid to want more.

Satoru’s tongue slips past your parted lips, teeth on wet pink muscle and a shiver runs down his spine when he tastes you, truly tastes you for the first time.

Grape flavored and starving.

Your hand reaches for the collar of his shirt to tug him closer, to pull him deeper into you.

Slender fingers wrap around your wrist and your body trembles, unravelling, unravelling for him until—

He stops.

“Name,” Satoru breathes it in a broken whine, lips wet and swollen with you, each exhale he makes tickles your chin. “We have to stop.”

He’s made a mistake. A foolish one.

“‘Toru, it's okay,” you urge him, moving to pull him closer but his grip on your wrist tightens, keeping you still.

A frown forms on your lips when you see his gaze downcast, unable to meet you, and that gleam in his eyes — guilt.

“We should stop.”

Darling reader,

we all know

how the saying goes. . .

“Why?” The way it leaves your mouth so innocently, so small, in the same tone you had when you were little, chasing behind him no matter how he tried to leave you behind—

( why won't you look at me? )

It makes Satoru hate himself more.

“I’m a gentleman.” Satoru clears his throat and rises to his feet, folding his vest haphazardly over his arm. “You're a lady— a Princess— I can't just. . .”

“You can't just what?” Satoru doesn't recognize the bite behind your voice, the thread he kept toying at with razor blades finally thinning out, ready to snap and break apart. “You can't take me in a dark corridor as you do the other girls?”

He sputters.

It is that. But it's also so much more.

“Princess—”

“No.”

Nothing has changed. And you're not stupid, maybe slow, but never stupid. This isn't about a grape juice spill. It isn't about titles or being respectable.

( it’s about the three of you. )

Is it jealousy? Is this all about a stupid pair of gloves? About his pride? Why? Because he won't let Suguru win even if it means—

“Look at me.” Satoru is slouching in front of you, holding out his palm for you to take. He’s sincere, raw. “I swear to you, the way I feel about you cannot be likened to a secret in a corridor.”

( and yet, you always wished you were one of those girls with him in a dark corridor. )

. . . it's all downhill

from the first kiss.

“Your excuses again—” Satoru steps back when he feels silk stinging against his outstretched palm in a slap of rejection.

The glove he pulled off your hand, the glove Suguru gave to you, falls to the floor.

“And what even is it that you feel?” Your tone reverberates through his bones and Satoru’s considering finding purchase on his knees, where he’d show you what exactly he feels, he'd drink you in, drown in you and be done with the aftermath. “Do you enjoy this? Making me feel like a fool while you stay the bachelor—”

“This engagement was never my choice!” Satoru’s tone raises an octave, brows dipped and frown deep. “And I never—”

That's not what he means to say, not now.

( i never touched another since i laid awake thinking of you. )

“And that's why you won't touch me? Because I'm not your choice, I'm your duty?”

“God, ofcourse I want to touch you—” A guttural groan leaves him then, a rumble in the back of his throat. “If you would just understand—”

He’s a gentleman. Is what he says every waking moment he spends lying to himself that this is for you, that this is for your own good. . .

Because he knows—

( if he touched you now, he’d never stop. )

“Even now you can't say it.” How long have you known Satoru? How long have you been by his side, or rather, chased after him while he remained out of your reach? How long— “That you want me.”

It's almost comical, the way Satoru’s breath hitches in the back of his throat and the palm at his side forms a fist.

He wants you.

“Say it.”

Tell me you want me, tell me it’s me, tell me you feel what I feel too—

“I can't.”

You don't deserve this, I can't give you what you want, hate me so it hurts a little less—

You rise to your feet, the grape juice bleeding into your dress forgotten. “I always thought you were the bravest person to ever live. . .” The strongest. Prince Satoru, the realm’s omnipotent son — “You’ve fought in all these wars and you’ve fought and fought—”

Ever since you were children.

Satoru was every bit a soldier, princely and polished to perfection with his blade. He’s never lost a battle, you're sure, poets write about him.

( what does it feel like to be fought for? )

“Why won't you fight for me, Satoru?”

Satoru Gojo is many things.

Selfish, spoiled, strong. Greedy even.

He fights for what he wants and he remains determined to win no matter what.

But when it comes to you. . .

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Sorry, I’m so selfish. Sorry, I don't want you to leave. Sorry, it should be me and not him.

Sorry, I'm paralyzed in love with you.

He’s not asking you to stay.

This is what he wanted, right? For you to hate him — who is he kidding, you wouldn't hate him even if tried to make you — for you to realize he isn't what you need.

“You won't even give me one reason to stay.” Your throat hurts, you can still taste his tongue in your mouth, grape and mint, mint and grape. “Of all things, I never thought you to be such a damn coward—”

“I’m the Prince, for fucks sake!”

Your lips part then shut again, and Satoru takes a step back. This barrier between you two was always there, wasn't it? Invisible, cold to the touch.

Don't question me, I'm the Prince, he had said the day you asked him why, why can't I come play with you and Suguru?

( why won't you let me in? what are you so afraid of? )

“Then if it pleases the Prince,” It comes out shakier, in a voice that's barely your own.

Satoru picks it up before you do, you sound like a child — the same way you used to when he left you behind. “I’d like to be dismissed.”

The Prince.

Not your Prince.

( does a heart make noise when it shatters? )

“No,” Satoru steps forward, and you step back. It's like a sick game now, and with every thrum of his heart he swears he’ll die. “Name— just. . . no.”

He’s selfish. He knows that.

After this you’ll run off to Suguru won't you? And he’ll be there with open arms and words as soft as silk—

Satoru would know. Because he did the same thing once Suguru left.

But that was before it was this, before this was everything, before—

“Then forgive my defiance to the crown tonight.” You murmur and turn away, the glove is left behind.

Satoru is left behind.

You never win love, you earn it.

L’Incomparable is hardly the jewel on Satoru’s mind when you walk away from him for the second time.

( before he knew he loved you. )

🪷 taglist : @angelshimaa @yunymphs @todorokies @satocidal @maeby-cursed @rinniessance @cinnaboonn @shegetsburned @starry-grace2 @selfishdoll @shuuennovirche @wishmemel @riaki @yazzzmints @aphroditisxc @gojorbit @izakyun @satoruoo @irisxyphium @zwtari @/lollipop974 @r0ckst4rjk @softgirlgonehaywire @lilvampirina @brianmaysclog @/baepsays @xxemmarldxx @/adoraspace @/hikaorinx @/lanecass @/theloveofnagiseishiroslife @/bajbbq @/jiraiyaisgod69 @/gojo-sunglasses @/in4rizaki @/chimsblogg @xkittiecatx @lordbugs @soultoru @ladytamayolover @the1exiled @pasta-warlord @drogonfruitzen @sexeyess @siren776 @v0ctin @scinclaitnoir @gugggu6gvai @shartnart1 @nnanamii @vanevafu @lillmyg @nikitopia @altyx @beaniedoodz @fubukeys @simpforramenboy @sinnerstardoll @coco-cat @melancholia-k

[flushwithdarlings]

"My uh...whiff...is very faint thank you. Nothing a little bergamont, rosemary, and a hint of fine aged brandy can't hide. It's the perfect olfactory disguise for a corpse. Honestly, I think I missed my calling as a perfumer!" - Astarion to Shadowheart I don't know if anybody has analysed Astarion's perfume or if the ingredients were even thought of this hard by Stephen Rooney (I am kicking myself for not asking when I met him at MCM 2 weeks ago). I, however, have read about them and thought about them quite hard.

So, my findings and ramblings about Astarion's perfume:

Bergamot - From the bergamot orange. Ironically, it's phototoxic - it makes skin more sensitive to sunlight/UV damage so I guess you could say it's associated with the sun? I dunno if Astarion should be wearing it tbh...

I also saw the fruit called 'Aphrodite's apple' and 'the most beautiful fruit' but the source was kind of flimsy.

Rosemary - Used in funeral rites throughout history, it symbolises death and remembrance but also fidelity in love.

The Ancient Egyptians used it in their embalming process to mask the scent of death (makes sense that Astarion uses it to mask his faint whiff of undeath), and it used to be (and still is?) placed on or in graves.

It's also mentioned a bunch in Shakespeare's works, specifically in scenes to do with death, which is quite appropriate and ironic for this silver-tongued, theatrical vampire who hates poets.

FRIAR LAWRENCE:

Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary

On this fair corse

- Romeo and Juliet

OPHELIA:

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love,

remember.

- Hamlet

Aphrodite pops up again here because in some versions of her creation myth, she arises from the sea adorned with rosemary.

Brandy - A biiit of a stretch maybe but there is a category of brandy known as eau-de-vie - water of life - so-called because medieval alchemists would ascribe miraculous properties to alcohol such as immortality.

In the late 19th and early 20th century, brandy was also used as a cardiac stimulant (so an association with life?) because it seemingly increased cardiac output and blood pressure. Which doesn't really help Astarion in any way but hey he is wearing it, not drinking it or getting it injected up his butt (that was one way it was used to resuscitate patients apparently yeah idk).

SO basically, his perfume ingredients are associated with life, death, the sun, immortality, devotion in love, and maybe the Greek goddess of passion, pleasure, beauty, and sex.

It also smells amazing.

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 13

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

I Need A Hero by @theroyalsavage

The "Nico is a superhero, Will is a med student" AU nobody asked for or wanted.

OBSESSED WITH THIS AU OBSESSED WITH THIS AU OBSESSED WITH THIS AU. I AM LOSING MY MIND AND HAVE READ IT SO MANY DOZENS OF TIMES. genuinely one of my top faces like its so fucking GOOD!!! the romcom romance of it all!! makes me lose it!!! the angst of loving someone who is constantly putting himself on the front lines!! the fear of not knowing if he's coming home!! being his healer, holding his life in your hands because he doesn't trust it with anyone else!!!! what if i rioted!!! what if i chewed clean through my ceiling!!!!! what if i swallowed my phone!!!!!!!!!!!!!! what if i clawed my way out of the pit of despair!!!! i am!! gonna!!!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHH!!!

2. As If His Hands Were Enough (to Hold an Avalanche Off) by @theroyalsavage

Nico di Angelo has been through enough to know life doesn't always work out the way you plan. But fate is a funny thing, and, in Nico's junior year of college, it hands him salvation in the form of freckled cheeks and a smile like the sun.

OH dude this author is actually everything to me. prepare for an onslaught of their stuff bc i am OBSESSED, but this one especially....oh it's special man. this had me LOSING MY MIND. seph’s acceptance made its way into my devotion scrapbook. never be ashamed of loving anybody….what a fucking thesis. i also ADORED how a) story didn’t end with them getting together, went thru them learning each other too and b) nico didn’t get fixed by dating will. he got fixed by loving himself, something he learned to do by loving will. crying.

3. Of Gods and Men by @theroyalsavage

There is something profoundly strange about the forest behind Will Solace’s new house. The trees, it seems, breathe magic. The truth is this: there are things that the forest hides that humans cannot understand. Nico di Angelo is one of them.

I LOVE PARTICULAR AUS!!!!!! AND I LOVE YOU ROYAL SAVAGE!!!!! dude god nico and mortal will is always gonna knock me flat bc its so canon, you know? will is going to be a consort of a god one day. and to read it in fic has me HOWLING but this one in particular....OH the ending is gonna knock yall flat fr!!! if you like percy refusing immortality for annabeth youre gonna LOVE this!!

4. Kitchen Nightmares by @theroyalsavage

Nico is the owner and head chef of an upscale restaurant in Hell's Kitchen, New York City. There's nothing easy about running a business, especially when you have to juggle an overprotective father, a college-age sister, and a staff about as under control as a stampede. The last thing Nico needs is a rival in the form of the ugliest food truck on the face of the planet. And yet, that's exactly what he gets. Of food fights, fledgling friendships, and Nico di Angelo's stupid little soft spot for Will Solace.

i know ive literally said it like five times now but NO ONE does an au like theroyalsavage idc. dude romeo & juliet but food truck and fancy restaurant?? hello!!!! omg!! i literally sat my ass down and devoured this i could not stop myself. and then i hit the end and started it right back up again. the love without having the space to establish anything….inherent homoeroticism of rivalry…..my heart!!

5. don't wanna be lonely, just wanna be yours by @theroyalsavage

Will Solace, café manager extraordinaire, just wants to coast through their monthly open mic night in peace. He definitely is not banking on meeting a handsome stranger with the voice of the gods and the death glare of a high-ranking member of the KGB. And yet, that's exactly what he gets.

telling someone you’re not even dating you’re in love with them after like five months is insane behaviour will solace i get you 😭😭 he is so real in every scenario all the time like he is genuinely perfect for nico who is equally as insane and deserves someone who is fully obsessed with him. god.

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

[blogthebooklover]

Noa & Mae = Orpheus & Eurydice AND Romeo & Juliet

So, something occurred to me after rewatching Disney's Hercules for like the millionth time (weird stretch, I know, lol). I remembered this post talking about how Mae and Noa's personalities are similar to Hercules and Megara. And then I remembered these two posts from @bookishdaze:

The Woman in the Hazmat Suit

Noa & Mae as Romeo and Juliet

She pointed out how Korina (the woman) may be a leader of the underground bunker, and how her name is from Kore, and we all know what other name the former is also derived? Persephone; the Goddess of Spring and what else? Queen of the Underworld! It's interesting to think about, and I'm really curious about what Wes Ball and team are going to do with this character in the next movie, but I digress.

Which also got me to thinking about the possible story inspirations for the next two movies in Noa's trilogy: the second movie might be a loose retelling of Orpheus and Eurydice, and the third might be Romeo & Juliet (or it could be the other way around, too).

First, the myth/legend of Orpheus and Eurydice.

Orpheus was a demigod and a musician whose beautiful songs were loved by anyone who heard them, mostly by women. However, the only woman he loved was a human named Eurydice. Depending on which version it is, their wedding blessing wasn't entirely finished on the day of their marriage, which was to be ordained by Hymen, the god of marriage ceremonies. This is perceived as an omen of ill faith from the two lovers. Again, depending on which version it is, Eurydice is enjoying some time to herself, or with the Nymphs in a field; but a snake bites her ankle and she dies from its venom.

Overwhelmed with grief by the death of his wife, Orpheus decides to venture to the Underworld to bring her soul back. Since Orpheus is a demigod, it's easy for him to travel down to the realm of Hades to search for his wife. His songs tame Cerberus, the three-headed guard dog of the Underworld, and the creatures hidden in the shadows. When he comes upon the thrones of the king and queen of the Underworld, Orpheus pleads his case of returning Eurydice's soul to her body by singing a song so moving; that it even warmed the hearts of the immortal rulers. Hades and Persephone agree to let him take Eurydice back to the world above, on the condition that Orpheus does not turn around to look at her until they are both in the sunlight.

Orpheus has second thoughts about the gods tricking him that Eurydice is not behind him as they walk. Just before they reach the entrance to the world above, he turns around and manages to see his wife before she is taken back into the shadows of the Underworld. Realizing his mistake, Orpheus begs to try again, but he cannot. Once again, depending on the version, no one enters the Underworld twice while still alive.

Now the ending for Orpheus's story varies, whether he dies of a broken heart or is killed by a creature; however, in one version the Muses take his lyre and send it into the heavens becoming one of the star constellations.

Second, William Shakespeare's play of Romeo & Juliet.

The play that everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, had to read in their freshmen/1st year of high/secondary school. So, a quick recap: Two young teenagers from sparring houses in Verona, Italy, they meet up at an event hosted by the other's family, decide they are in love (after three days of knowing each other) and marry in secret. However, someone from both houses end up dead; Mercutio (Montague) and Tybalt (Capulet), the latter kills the former and Romeo kills Tybalt out of grief and revenge for his friend. Friar Lawrence advises Romeo to visit Juliet before he is sent into exile. After spending the night with her, Romeo leaves. Juliet is grief stricken by the fact that Romeo is in exile, and she has no choice but to marry the man who was chosen to marry her, Paris. Friar Lawrence, once again offers advice but to Juliet this time, to take a sleeping potion that makes her seem like she’s dead.

Once Juliet awakes from the sleeping draught, she finds that Romeo has poisoned himself due to misinformation about her death. Friar Lawrence urges Juliet to come with him to a convent to be safe. However, she does not, choosing instead to stay with Romeo and since her love drank all of the poison, she takes his dagger and stabs herself in the heart. By the influence of the Prince, the two grieving families put aside their differences in memory of their only respective children.

Third, Noa and Mae, and how the previously mentioned stories could work for them.

For the second film, while Noa isn't a musician per se, he does show the abilities of an engineer (fixing a fish rack, and the cattle prod). HOWEVER, he does have to sing to Eagle Sun to get the bird to come to him. My head canon is that maybe Noa works on various different inventions while he's training to be the next Master of Birds. If Mae returns to the Eagle Clan, and sees Noa's inventions for herself, she would probably have mixed emotions at the fact of seeing an evolved ape even creating something from the remains of human technology.

Remember: Noa's and overall evolved ape intelligence TERRIFY her.

However, I think the more she spends time with the Eagle Clan apes, the more she realizes apes and humans can probably co-exist with each other.

My head canon for Mae is that it was her entire family and friends as the team that was sent out on the mission in KOTPOTA, and after Proximus Caesar's apes killed everyone, she barely escaped with her life as she says to Noa. And she had to survive alone in the wilderness before coming across Noa and the Eagle Clan village. Like Noa, she is also just a scared little kid trying to understand everything that had happened in the 200-300 years of a post-apocalyptic world. And now, she literally had/has no where else to go, no home to return to (since we all agree on that one head canon she's one of the few humans immune to whatever remains of the Simian virus), until she spends more time with Eagle Clan.

For whatever reason, Mae has to go back to the underground bunker, or maybe she's kidnapped by another human group from a different bunker; but I'm going with the former for this take. Noa can't take the fact that she has to return to the humans, seeing how humans and apes can live together, and he sets out with Anaya and Soona to get Mae back. When the trio arrive at the human bunker (the one from the end of Kingdom), Noa must plead his case to Korina to get Mae to return to Eagle Clan. That her living amongst apes is proof that both species can co-exist. Maybe even offering one of his inventions and/or an eagle egg, to the human leader as a sign of peace and hope for a future.

After Korina hears Noa's case, she agrees to let Mae return to Eagle Clan; now I imagine that instead of the sadder ending of Orpheus and Eurydice, it's the ending of the Hades and Persephone myth instead, the human leader offers only one condition to Noa: that Mae returns to the bunker when the last leaf falls and the first snows begin. Unlike apes, humans cannot survive the harsh winter weather. Both Noa and Mae agree to this term, and they continue living in the Eagle Clan village until the fall/winter. On the other hand though, I do see this working the other way around: that Noa is the one who is captured, and Mae is the one to plead her case to Korina.

And finally, the third movie. The story line we all want to see!

When Mae returns for the winter, let's assume it's been a couple of years or so by now, there is tension amongst the humans in the underground bunker. Half of them don't like this arrangement of a human living amongst the apes in the above world. The Tybalt & Paris equivalents (gonna call them Bunker!Tybalt & Bunker!Paris) in the third movie are feeling reservations about the arrangement, confessing their concerns to Korina when Mae returns. Korina (also being The Prince equilavent for the third movie) tries reassuring them that Mae staying with Noa and the apes is a test to see if the two species can live and work together. But Bunker!Tybalt and Bunker!Paris are not having it, and they arrange for a duel with Noa until Anaya (since we all agree that he's the Mercutio equivalent, poor thing) steps in for his childhood best friend.

Aaaaaaand we all know what happens next! However, let's imagine Bunker!Paris somehow leaves the scene.

Noa, enraged with grief for his best friend, kills Bunker!Tybalt but soon realizes he made a huge mistake and he decides to step down as leader and exile himself from the Eagle Clan. Because a good leader doesn't kill in revenge, no matter the reason. Meanwhile, when Mae hears the news of Bunker!Tybalt, she blames herself for the whole outcome. Korina makes the decision for Mae to stay in the bunker, for a possible upcoming war with the apes and to keep her safe. Mae doesn't want any more bloodshed, and she confides her concerns with the Nurse equivalent (again, gonna call them Bunker!Nurse; or maybe it'll be Dar as the Nurse Equivalent as well, but I digress). Bunker!Nurse feels empathy for Mae, but agrees with Korina about staying in the bunker. That Mae's skills and intelligence are needed for an upcoming war.

Mae doesn't want a war though, she soon realizes that the apes and Noa are her family as well. She sneaks out of the bunker in the cover of night and tries to find Noa.

Not entirely the same, but I do imagine a scene similar to The Lion King 2 (again, another Romeo & Juliet retelling; although, it would be hilarious if Noa & Mae broke out into song, but that's my crazy take heeheehee); when Mae and Noa reunite, away from everything and everyone trying to keep the two species apart.

Noa tries to convince Mae to run away with him, and explore the remains of this post-apocalyptic world, hoping to find more apes and humans similar to the unlikely duo. And create a new village where the two species can co-exist. Mae doesn't buy it though, she confides in Noa about returning together to prevent an upcoming war between apes and humans.

Once they return, they see it has already happened, once again taking some inspiration from The Lion King 2 here.

Bloodshed and dead bodies from both sides of the battle field. The human girl and the male ape are horrified by the war.

They both enter the sidelines of the battlefield, the apes and humans pause briefly when the ape and human are in sight. Mae and Noa each take turns pleading their case, that humans and apes can live in peace and harmony if they work together. There cannot be anymore bloodshed between them. The test of Mae (and maybe a few other humans) living amongst the Eagle Clan works, and there can be a solution between the two species.

But wait, you dear reader ask, doesn't the Shakespeare play end tragically?

Yes, the OG play is a tragedy. However, like the aforementioned Lion King 2, there are other R&J retellings with a happier ending:

Gnomeo and Juliet

Warm Bodies

Interesting how the second one is also set in a post-apocalyptic world, albeit in the zombie horror subgenre xD.

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever

[paintlesscanvas]

haii!! could we request vampire/emo themed snpts please? thanks in advance!! (your blog is super awesome sauce)

VAMPIRIC / EMO SNPTS . .

System Names: the chained up collective, the sun-fearing system, bats hanging upside down, the ruby gloom system, the drained collective, the undying creatures, creepy catacombs, the cave dwellers, the dyed hair collective, gerard way’s fanbase, the fanged lovers, the bloodless, murder of crows, the parasol wielders, the hot topic system, the exhausted, minute misery, smudged eyeliner system, the ghoulfriends, those shrouded in shadow, cramped coffins, the vein drainers, those damn dhampirs, batty bitches, the headbanging collective, the emo system, the dark circle system, the studded belt collective, the cobwebbed coffin, the crying collective, the melancholic, batty bloodbath, the fanged system, the flying bats, the blood-filled cauldron, the fanged, the vegan vamps, the reflectionless collective, fishnet freaks, the sad playlists, the stitched hearts, bloody bruises, the weirdos, mister, the fallen down, the cursed collective, helena’s graveyard, the empty system, the graveyard dancers, the bloodied blades, closeted skeletons, striking violent poses, the fearful, the strange and unusual, those with the darkened clothes, the mortuary collective, the unbeating hearts, shadow lurkers, the grotesque ghouls, the raccoon tailed, the weary and worn, those from transylvania, the empty chalice, the demolition lovers, the decrimson stains, the teenagers, monster high, the bat colony, the counts of the night, the wounded fingers collective, the lonely, those that returned from the ashes, the immortal system, the mysterious rejects, the bleeding makeup collective, the scarlet drinkers, the horror show, broken hearted, the emo cult, the dhampirs, totally not posers, torn and frayed, the bloody things, the graveyard obsession, the silent pulse, the strays, the bat-winged system, those who blast music, the vampiric manor, those who come out at night, the headphone wearers, the ones drowning in music, the haunted forest, warped with hate, the tattered clothes collective, the outcasted, the bleeding, the romeos and juliets, the failures,

Usernames: surroundedbynight, liesinthebooks, sxwithaghost, vamprieofthepalace, fshnetglves, tonightisthenight, vampfangz, yrfavoritevampire, kneeh1ghconverse, julietscmndlust, messydrinker, romeosbloodiedhnds, tututhousands, raisedglasses, cleanupyrlooks, chainedcastle, chaliceofblood, skullst4k3s, mortalbats, teenagersrscary, sluuuuuuurp, saneabandonedme, onyxsoooul, mmyspacekween, baaaaatwings, cannibalglow, commandedlust, myssspaceking, coginthemrdrmchine, eldritchemo, batwisp, txtteredpxges, fangsintoflesh, swoopshadow, checkrdconvrse, vampygrlfrnd, hopeandshadow, aspirationstoshreds, vampybyfrnd, bloodycauldron, lovewithavampire, amurderofbats, plasmapouch, deadlydeparted, cadavercutie, em1lythestr4nge, shrpstlves, hidinginmycloak, rosesforthedead, dxeadlynightshade, vans4life, ripupyourheads, legsandtongue, heymisery, theblackparade, splitgoblet, bitingvampire, hshtaghosted, warruined, gallonsofblood, caprisunblood, rrrrrrbl, vxmpyrrr, darkenyrclothes, wermonsterhigh, rubygloooom, deadbats, silverdippedcrown, brnthempires, castlecrawl, dearlydeceased, pileofbones, returnfromtheashes, dripdripdrip, halfhumanhalfnot, batbatbatbat, elvirasratings, violentpose, itsnothertime, garlicsting, bloodchugger, awfulfuck, completecooperation, weallgotohell, countofthenight, rvencrws, scaredofstakes, twooofanged, ddaintydhampir, buildingacoffin, brrrkenheart, garishgh0ul, gerardseyeliner, outsiiider, bloodthorne, imnotokayipromise, weallfalldown, tangledhxadphones, notaposerpls, dxadliest2lead, fortuneandflame, hiddentomb, cryptchaser, someonewillbleed, hangry4humans, gerardwaaaay, topofthemanor, bloodyhiss, no1garlichater, youwearmeout, fulloflies, gr4vedweller, undeadlxve, actuallyanemo, mcrcutie, bloodybtch, sh1mmeryfangs, fuckofagun, tornandfrayed, unholyveins, crampedcoffin, cobwebbedcoffin, thnkabtthestakes, vampirism, mychmiclrmnce, number1, batsbeforethemoon, fffangedkillr, raaaventamer, crackedskin, touchedbyangels, b1temrks, bloodbeforelove, warpedwithhate, murderofcrows, yrmyonlyhpe, releasethebats, gravedancer, crrpycutie, bldsckingfreak, cheersforrevenge, abyssalbite, chillinwmycoven, freaktastic, cause4thequeen, fangtasia, razrfringe, vampsdoitbetter, backfromthegrave, beastinrepose, dracscastle, needlessbeating, bathedinfire, plasticfangsss, vamprism, beenababygirl, lookalivesnshiiine, trnsxualtrnsvnya, number2, raisedabetterson, cemeterybaby, fangtastic, litrlydead, madgear, misslekid, looking4thecure, houseofwolves, gerardshairstrand, transylvan1a, scuffedcmbatboots, oldguillotine, chappedandfaded, eatyrheartout, blltprfheart, eylnyrdwnmyface, skltonheart, nananananana, screeeaaaam, gothicmusic, number3, sweetrvnge, vmprdiaries, nbdyundrstnds, undrprssre, drwninglssns, guitarshredder, stayoutofthelight, thatissoghoul, raccoontailss, number4, demoniademon, knifeinmyhands, nocturnaaal, blackattire, blackpolish, hereishelena, horrorshows, burymeinblack, idontloveyou, headfirst4halos, crledupinmybed, number5, hospitalstay, witchingh0ur, incineratingmatch, stainedblade, ilvethe1780s, sharpenedblade, l3thallust, fndtnsofdecay, m4ne4ter, sp1nesp1ke, vamps4humans, holdingontonight, b1teme, solonggoodnight, ladyofsorrows, howidissapear, vampirecountscount, shadowstained, mybulletsyrlve, lvemyghoulfriends, heartaaache, fangbangers, batskeleton, traceofthrfangs, deathnvrstpyou, foggynight, eyelinertears, cmtrydrve, demolitionlvrs, missingheartbeat, burntbyacross, giveemhellkid, spooningavampyre, themurderscene, chillycuddles, coldtothetouch, deadeyes, fuzzyyybats, myagonyyy, famouslastwords, ghostofyou, mrried2themusic, eyesrshiningbrght, d4ngerd4ys, thx4thevenom,

Names: aamon, adalaide, adrienn, aeron, agatha, agony, ahimoth, alistair, altaire, altar, alyx, ambrose, ambrosia, ash, ashe, astrophel, auberon, aux, ax, axton, barrett, batsy, blade, blaire, blaze, bones, burdett, cadell, cage, calypso, carnage, carnamor, casimir, caspian, cazimir, cephas, chain, chase, claude, clawde, claws, corvin, crimson, crow, crowley, crush, cymph, cynthia, damon, daemon, daimion, daxten, daze, decay, delyth, dez, dizzy, dominique, dorian, dragomir, dread, drusilla, dryden, ebony, echo, edge, eldritch, electra, elisabat, elspeth, espen, esther, evan, exequiel, eza, ezekiel, felyx, flick, gabriel, gerard, ghost, gloom, gore, grave, grey, grimoire, grotesque, hatchet, havoc, hawthorn, heathen, hellebore, hemlock, hyde, ida, ingram, ink, isidora, jaqueline, jax, jaws, jaz, jazper, jekyll, jet, jett, kane, kaerix, kier, killian, knox, lament, lennox, lestat, lilith, lothaire, luce, luther, lux, lydia, lysander, maddox, maeve, marietta, maw, mercy, midnight, miles, moon, morgan, morgana, mortem, myth, myst, mystery, neechee, noir, nox, neutrix, nuisance, odessa, octave, octavia, octavius, omen, onyx, pandora, percival, phantom, phoenix, pierce, poe, quill, quince, rabid, ramona, raphael, rave, raven, rawre, raze, razors, reaper, rhaenyra, rin, rip, rogue, ronan, ruby, rumor, rune, sabbath, sabien, salem, sangue, sardonyx, scarlet, scream, sebastien, selene, shade, shadow, shred, silas, skrrt, skull, smoke, snap, spine, spike, spirit, strange, sting, stray, tear, temperance, thane, thorn, thrash, theramin, umbra, valentine, valerian, vamperine, vane, vance, vermillion, vesper, victoria, viktor, viktoria, ville, vincent, vispan, vivienne, volitaire, vollo, wild, wryn, xander, xanthos, xavian, xavier, xenia, yarrow, yuma, yvette, zaye, zayne, zedar, zee, zev, zeke, zim, zion, zypher

Pronouns: vampire/vampires, bat/bats, wing/wings, cave/caves, echo/echos, smoke/smokes, cloud/clouds, soar/soars, swoop/swoops, flight/flights, night/nights, dark/darks, shade/shades, shadow/shadows, moon/moons, wisp/wisps, fang/fangs, gleam/gleams, shine/shines, glimmer/glimmers, drain/drains, sink/sinks, thrill/thrills, sharp/sharps, drip/drips, drop/drops, heart/hearts, beat/beats, life/lifes, immortal/immortals, cold/colds, chill/chills, vein/veins, glass/glass', swirl/swirls, goblet/goblets, chalice/chalices, castle/castles, forest/forests, silent/silents, alone/alones, silver/silvers, stake/stakes, cross/cross', hiss/hiss', sun/suns, scorch/scorchs, hide/hides, cloak/cloaks, ruffle/ruffles, frill/frills, lace/laces, parasol/parasols, velvet/velvets, scarlet/scarlets, ruby/rubys, obsidian/obsidians, onyx/onyxs, mirror/mirrors, crack/cracks, void/voids, mystery/mysterys, candle/candles, petal/petals, rose/roses, thorn/thorns, puddle/puddles, pool/pools, ash/ashs, ashes/ashes', crow/crows, raven/ravens, vulture/vultures, corvid/corvids, morbid/morbids, dark/darks, brood/broods, extreme/extremes, pain/pains, blur/blurs, flicker/flickers, fire/fires, fuse/fuses, spark/sparks, lighter/lighters, smoke/smokes, heart/hearts, crackle/crackles, key/keys, sharp/sharps, smash/smashs, shatter/shatters, break/breaks, crimson/crimsons, sneak/sneaks, night/nights, scream/screams, threat/threats, swear/swears, splatter/splatters, red/reds, empty/emptys, spike/spikes, riot/riots, loud/louds, rage/rages, teeth/teeths, reject/rejects, checker/checkers, stripe/stripes, smudge/smudges, polish/polishs, eyeliner/eyeliner, raccoon/raccoons, music/musics, drown/drowns, note/notes, scribble/scribbles, headbang/headbangs, bracelet/bracelets, mumble/mumbles, mutter/mutters, zero/zeros, razor/razors, rawr/rawrs, die/dies, dead/deads, gloom/glooms, tear/tears, sob/sobs, curl/curls, 🦷, 🫀, 🫁, 🐦‍⬛, 🕷️, 🕸️, 🌑, 🌪️, 🦴, 🎧, 🎼, 🎸, 📱, 💿, 📷, 📞, 🎵, 🎙️, ⏳, 🔦, ⛓️, ⛓️‍💥, 🧨, 🪓, 🔪, 🗡️, 🪦, ⚰️, 🕳️, 🩹, 🩸, 🗝️, 🗑️, 🖋️, ✂️, ❤️‍🩹, 💢, 🎶, 🔇, 🗯️

Titles: prn who sleeps upside down, the cave dweller, the one who used manic panic, prn who hides in the night, prn who lurks in the shadows, the one scribbling in their notebook, the bloodsucker, the count, prns blood-filled chalice, the countess, prn who sleeps in a coffin, prn who is obsessed with death, prn who longs for the sun, the undying creature, prn who has raccoon tails, prn who is listening to [favorite band], prn with the skinny jeans, prns bloodied dagger, prn who shops at hot topic, the vampire cursed with immortality, prn texting on prns flip phone, the one with the emo bangs, prn who terrifies, the music listener, prn who has prns headphones in, part of the emo cult, prn who fears the sun, the vegan vampire, the one with the vampiric cloak, the wielder of parasols, the bloodless body, prn who lies in the darkness, the immortal soul, the thing with fangs, the one wearing the fingerless gloves, the one covered in chains, the empty emo, prn who sizzles in the sun, prn of sinister magic, prns infinite disdain, the dead thing, the unbeating heart, prn who stares out the window, the exhausted vampire, the one who lurks in graveyards, prn with the bat wings, prns doodled-on converse, the fluttering bat, prn with skeletons in prns closet, the friendly vampire, prn with razor sharp fangs, prn who shrouds prnself in shadow, dead on the scene, prn who stays alone, the strange, prn who shreds on prns guitar, the dhampir, the lost, prn who drains life from the living, the being with visible veins, the stitched heart, the one with too many studded belts, the bloodied bat, prns empty playlist, prn who haunts, prn who likes emily the strange, the friendless, lurks the graves, thing of nightfall, prn who is filled with misery, the vampyr, prns immortal soul, prn with smudged eyeliner, the crying thing, the one blasting music through prns headphones, prn who is not a poser, prn with no reflection, the one who shatters mirrors, prn who turns into a bat