#most likely he would be vita's brother

[potionboy3]

been thinking of making another rovere family member but i'm not sure of what year he would be born... so here's yet another concept.

[whousestypewriters]

i don't know why i'm here - j.h x reader

pairing: jameson hawthorne x fem!reader

requested: yes / no

warnings: swearing

a/n: hellooooo this is a long overdue fic but i was in a jameson mood hehe so here we are babies. also this is set in a boarding school :))

taglist: @midiosaamor, @reminiscentreader, @ravenclawdirectioner, @tornqdowarnings, @benny1989fredd,

@foolish1girl, @off-to-the-r4ces, @emelia07, @delicatepoett, @kozumesphone, [if your name is white it means i couldn't tag you]

jameson hawthorne is smart. dangerously so.

but you're smarter. and you prove it on the days when you win tests and pop quizzes.

most of the time only by one point, but still. beating jameson hawthorne is something you relish in. its not often that the only hawthorne brother that attends mightwood academy shows weakness.

and ever since the time you beat him on your first day and first pop quiz he's been out to win back the coveted spot at the top of the class.

so what started as a petty competition has now grown into the largest rivalry on campus. everybody knows about it. its gotten to the point where if people see you walking towards your room with a frown etched onto your face, they know to get out of the way. or the same way if they see jameson sauntering towards you with a smirk on his face, they know to lean in to watch.

most of them can't tell if you're about to rip each others throats out or starting making out. it could go either way honestly.

and right now as you watch jameson idly walk over to your desk - the teacher not even bothering to tell him off; he's the jameson hawthorne, why would she tell him off? - you decide you want to rip his throat out.

"well, well, mea vita-" the stupid nickname he calls you grates on your nerves. he won't tell you what it means and apparently latin is the one language you have a personal problem with and refuse to learn it. or maybe you just don't want to know what stupid insult he's calling you.

"what did you score?" he asks placing his test paper on the table, the red one hundred at the top a taunt left for you.

"an ehjdfnphs," you mumble.

"a what-y what what?"

"an eighty-six," you snap at him. shoving your paper down onto the desk, grabbing your bag and storming out of the classroom, ignoring the teachers calls.

maybe it was the fact that you had had a fight with your mother that morning, because she wasn't letting you come home for the holidays and demanding you stay during the schools winter break. or maybe it was the fact that jameson was acting like and ass and you finally had enough.

which ever it was, it doesn't matter. you lost your shit in class so thats going to be a detention on your record and thats going to be another week of tormenting from jameson.

you exhale when you swing the door to your room open and launch your bag onto your bed. sitting down in your desk chair and shoving your head in your hands.

a sigh leaves your lips and instead of wallowing in your idiotic decisions you decide to throw yourself into the one thing you're actually good at. studying - and sending an apology email to the teacher which will hopefully decrease your detention time.

time passes fast while you're buried in your books, words and notes fly past you as you read over the material you seemingly failed at learning well enough to score an eighty-six.

a knock at the door has you jolting awake - you don't even recall when you fall asleep but judging by your dry mouth and patch of drool on the desk you did.

yawning you get up and open to door surprised when you see a dishevelled hawthorne standing there.

"jameson?" you look over at your alarm clock on your desk. "it's eleven pm, what are you doing here?"

his words are soft, "i don't know." but he holds out a bowl candy in offering. "you missed dinner though i thought i would come and make sure you ate."

it must be the sleep deprivedness acting on your behalf, because you actually step back and let him in with a soft smile. his eyes widen in surprise as if he was expecting you to take the bowl and slam the door in his face - which if you weren't hungry or tired you probably would've done.

"so this is what your room looks like huh?" jameson's question is quiet. he scans the room as is he's remembering every detail about it. which you really wish you had time to clean up now that you think about it; the dirty dishes stolen from the kitchen, the scattered homework and the unfolded laundry piled on your bed doesn't exactly scream responsible.

"mea vita, have you even left your room to eat today?" he asks concern clouding his eyes.

"jameson. why are you here?"

he's quiet for a moment. "... i'm sorry about the way i acted earlier, it was a dick move to do that in class when i could already see you were in a bad mood."

"it was- wait how did you know i was in a bad mood?"

"i could just tell," he shrugs and sits on your bed. "but i really am sorry, i let the stupid feud get into my head."

it must be the fact that he brought your favorite candies in the bowl, or the gentle look on his face that makes you move towards him and sit down next to him.

"i'm going to win next time." why did you say that?

and just like that the calm in the room evaporates and jameson's devastating smile returns. "or so you think mea vita."

"I will, today was just a fluke."

challenge sparks in his eyes. "oh really?"

you inch closer getting in his face, "oh yes, i will. you're going to watch me win jameson hawthorne."

his eyes drop to your lips and your stomach drops - why is one look making you feel this way? this can't be good. "it would be an honor to watch you win, mea vita."

he bends down in a question and you nod letting him.

kissing jameson feels like falling. it feels like winning and losing at the same time. your breath hitches and you feel your composure about to come undone.

kissing jameson feels freeing. like you'll never have to pass another test as long as he there.

it feels like victory.

a/npt2: guys its 1am and i'm struggling to keep my eyes open so if that ending isn't good enough just let me know and i'll add a second part :))

[spinningwebsandtales]

Vita Nova

Orm Marius X FemReader

Rating: T

Warnings: Spoilers, mentions of death, crying, hurt/comfort, reader has some trauma, suggestive themes, angst, and fluff

Word Count: 4.2k

Fic Swap with @the-marshals-wife

(A/N:) Happy (belated) New Year everyone! And my first fic of 2024 and it turned out to be a whopper! My lovely best friend and I just adore the Aquaman movies and in light of the new movie that dropped around Christmas we decided to do a ficswap together! This bad boy is my contribution and you lucky readers get to read it! I hope I can make the other Orm fangirls happy with this as I honestly had way too much fun writing it as you can see! Over 4,000 words of just Orm goodness! I look forward of sharing more writings in this new year and I'm glad I could open up with this! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Reader's POV is in italics.

SPOILERS FOR AQUAMAN AND THE LOST KINGDOM BELOW

DO NOT CONTINUE AHEAD IF YOU HAVE YET TO SEE THE MOVIE!

Orm stood upon the beach, his toes buried in the warm sand as the setting sun painted his features in orange and pink hues. His heart longed for Atlantis once more as homesickness always reared it's ugly head when he was feeling alone. While tension still remained between him and his older brother, deep down he was grateful for Arthur, giving him a new chance at life. With Atlantis finally revealing themselves to the people of the land, he no longer had to be so secretive about himself, except when it came to Atlanteans. He had burned too many bridges that most likely would never have the chance to be rebuilt. He sighed deeply as the warm salty foam washed over his feet.

Orm turned, leaving his regrets and longing to drown in the crashing waves. While he could see why his brother loved the land dwelling humans, Orm normally avoided them as much as he could. Especially when it came to his time on the beach, he rather not be bothered. And despite the world knowing, he still swam in deserted parts of the beaches he visited. His favorite places were around the docks where the shade kept him cool and various sea creatures stuck around. The fish and small crabs made him feel a little less lonely and made everything feel more like home.

Orm's bare feet padded against the planks of the dock as he tugged his shirt over his head. The breeze rippled his blond locks and whispered promises of a good evening swim. His vision staying straight ahead, Orm was preparing to run and dive into the bright blue water when a yelp caused him to stumble and he fell to the dock. He almost slid off when a slender hand caught his wrist and kept him from rolling off and slamming into a boat.

"Are you okay?!"

A feminine voice had him blinking against the pain in his skull before he finally got his eyes to focus. Orm sat up quickly, backing away from the woman looking at him with genuine concern. It was an emotion Orm was unacquainted with.

"I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention," the woman blushed getting to her feet and brushing the front of her shirt and shorts off. A quick flash of annoyance had him glaring before Orm sucked in a deep breath and calmed the raging tide threatening to overtake him. She offered him a hand up and old him would have swatted it away with a snarl, but new him remembered his older brother and took her offered hand. She shuffled her feet before him awkwardly, refusing to look up in embarrassment. Though Orm was worried he was intimidating her, though he wasn't trying at the moment.

"Sorry again," she apologized once more only to break the silent tension between them.

"I wasn't paying attention," it was the most polite thing he could say. "Though I can't help but ask. Why were you laying across the dock?"

Her cheeks flushed bright crimson, a pretty red color, and now she really refused to look up at him, more interested in her bare feet. This in turn made Orm feel more awkward, like he had pushed across some threshold that he should have never even touched.

"You'll laugh," she mumbled. Her gaze quickly darting up towards him before once again looking away. When she noticed that he wasn't going to say anything else her shoulders sagged in defeat.

"I like watching the fish. They feel like they're my friends and they're so peaceful living their lives without a care in the world," she whispered. "I've also always dreamed about Atlantis and going there and now that it is truly real I can't help but long for it even more. Silly huh?"

Orm shook his head and smiled remembering his home fondly, "No it's not. I think it's a wonderful dream."

Though home always brought a smile to his face, in this moment of his life it brought a pang of sadness with it. One mistake had taken his chance of ever seeing that beautiful city ever again. And here he just met a mere human upon an empty dock longing for the same as him. Maybe he had more in common with the humans of this side of the world than he had first realized. She smiled and nodded, happy to have someone not laugh at her for a change. She walked away moments later leaving him to ponder upon the dock as the waves whispered softly against the sand. Then Orm dived in.

Usually Orm moved around a lot. If he liked a place more than others he'd normally stay for a few days. But for reasons he didn't want to know he had stayed in this particular spot for weeks. And it wasn't because the food was anything extraordinary nor was the beach one of the most beautiful he's seen. If he dug down deep inside he knew it was because of that one moment, where he had seen a glimpse of that beautiful humanity that Arthur was always talking about to him. So Orm did what every normal man would do, he kept his distance and watched her from afar. She visited the dock he had found her at nightly, just to talk to the fish and to watch the sun set behind the horizon of the ocean. She would hum tunes, almost stroking the water with her gentle hands. She would hide sometimes as people would come to the beach calling out a name he had never heard. What would shatter his heart more than anything was when she would come some nights crying. His heart would clench as her salty tears dropped into the ocean. He shook his head fighting the urge to go towards her. But she was different, she wanted to know his world, that she had no idea he was from. That he had once been a prince, let alone a king of that world but it didn't matter, not anymore. He was dead to that world and he had to find his place in this one.

It didn't take many times of him watching the lone girl sob on the dock before Orm concocted a plan. Atlantean technology to help humans make the trip undersea had yet to be brought to them. Except for the scuba gear the humans already had invented, but Orm wanted his plan to be perfect. So he would do something that would make his older brother proud and possibly bring an end to his life. To get what he needed he would have to venture back to the Sunken Citadel and hope that the pirates that still lived didn't kill him at first glance.

You didn't know what kept bringing you back to this particular beach, though you had a inkling that it was in false hope of finding that same blond haired man that you had tripped. He was a complete stranger and yet you found yourself hoping to see him once more. So every night you came, no matter how bad things got at home you escaped bringing yourself to this little place of serenity, hoping, waiting, that you would see him again. But every night became a disappointment, though you enjoyed seeing the fish. The sun quickly set seeping the warmth from the Earth but the ocean water still held those waning rays of warmth. The lights of the dock quickly blinked on illuminating the surrounding water so you could still watch the fish swim peacefully by. You hummed a quiet tune as the waves lapped against the barnacle crusted wooden posts. A shadow darted by causing you to suck in a quick breath. Sharks would sometimes come up or a curious dolphin but this creature was too fast to be one of them. Your heartbeat quickened but against your better judgement you stuck your hand back down along with your head, trying to find this mystery that had suddenly come upon you.

Orm had a difficult time in the Sunken Citadel and he had gotten into a few brawls, but he did get what he searched for. It had cost him, but if his well thought out plan worked as well as he hoped, it would all be worth it. He made his way back to the normal spot and he had timed his return just right. As his mystery woman he had begun to adore made her way out onto the normal dock. She was light on her feet and she greeted some of the boatmen, who were leaving, politely before going to her same spot Orm could always find her. She stuck a hand in the water tracing the patterns of the fish below as they swam close to the surface. She had a small content grin on her face as she enjoyed the creatures below the surface. Orm moved his arms slower, trying to keep from interrupting this moment as he was more than happy to watch her for a little while. She hummed a tune while tucking strands of untamable hair behind her ear, only for a breeze to send them back to fluttering. He sucked in a breath letting the peace of her presence wash over him. And then he went under the surface and swam close by and quickly. He heard her gasp and he grinned to himself. He could have a moments fun at her expense, especially with the gift he was bringing her. Despite not knowing what he was she braved the unknown and he had to admire that about her. She was proving his theory of humans being a cowardly race wrong every moment he watched her.

You searched timidly for any sign of the shadow you had seen. Your eyes darting across the eerily still waters. You were about to pull yourself back up onto the dock when an arm breached the water and grabbed onto your wrist. You screamed yanking yourself backwards and the person attached to the hand around you came up with your panicked movements.

Orm laughed loudly at your terrified face while he treaded the water. He had never been one to play tricks as he had been trained as a prince of Atlantis, but he found it quite fun. The woman he had yet to put a name to a face laid on her back panting, trying to regain some form of control.

"Why did you do that," she screeched once she finally found her breath.

"Think of it as payback for making me fall on my face the first time we met," Orm smirked as he lifted himself from the water easily.

She took in the fact quickly that his upper torso was bare and the form fitting pants only seemed tighter by the fact that they were dripping water everywhere. She looked away, pink coming to her cheeks.

"You come out here every night," Orm said after a few moments of awkward silence.

Her head whipped around and her eyes widened in surprise.

"How did you know that? I never see you around!" Those moments of wishing to see him again, hoping he'd be around, and he had been hidden from her the entire time.

"I was," Orm paused. He knew he couldn't just tell her that he had been watching her from afar. But he didn't want to lie. "I was swimming."

"Swimming?" Now she was suspicious of him. As she rightly should, though they had already met once he was still a stranger.

"I'm a decent swimmer." Understatement of the century Orm thought to himself.

"I can see that," she gestured towards him before darting her gaze away once more.

Orm chuckled. He liked that little of color that would pop up in her skin. He found it endearing and despite himself his heart began to pick up speed. He offered out a hand and she glanced at it warily.

"I'm Orm," he offered in greeting. "Orm Marius. I should have introduced myself that first day we met."

She laughed, taking his offered hand. "(Y/N). And I should have thought of it too. But I did almost make you faceplant into the water. Though it seems like it wouldn't have bothered you so bad if you had."

Orm shook her hand, reveling in how smaller it was compared to his. "Do you mean to tell me that you wish you had let me fallen into the water now? Instead of rescuing me?"

"Well after you just basically scared the daylights out of me, yes."

Orm pouted playfully, "And here I brought you a gift."

"A gift?!" Once again those beautiful colored eyes glowed in delight. It sent his heart a flutter and he could have sworn it skipped a beat. Is this what his mother had possibly felt when she looked upon the man that fathered Arthur?

"I think I am rather partial to it now," he teased. "Maybe I will just keep it for myself."

"You can't just say that you brought me a gift and then keep it for yourself. That's mean," she whined.

Orm couldn't keep stringing her along though he was finding it fun just to get a rise out of her. He brought the gift from behind his back and he wasn't expecting her to jump up and down. Her confusion was to be expected and he found himself grinning once more. She was so expressive, he found it endearing.

"Your dream of seeing Atlantis stuck out to me and their technology is above what your people have. I wanted to show you a part of that life even if it is just a small glimpse."

He was revealing himself. His heart was almost leaping out of his chest. He had kept his identity a secret, revealing nothing to the humans he had contact with. She would be the first and he didn't know what to do if she didn't accept. She placed her hands on the oxygen helmet, a question on her lips. But without a word he once more grabbed onto her wrist and lead her to the end of the dock. She wordlessly tugged the pirated good on her head and with no hesitation followed Orm into the water.

Orm dived down, keeping a good grasp on her hand, their fingers interlaced as he didn't want to hurt her by tugging on her joints by the speed he could swim at. The oxygen mask was working like a dream and despite the time of the evening the moon was doing a good job of lighting the sea life below the ocean. She gasped in awe at the sea creatures and plant life below. But mostly she gaped at him.

"You are," she hesitated saying the word.

Orm nodded. "I am."

You absolutely couldn't believe your eyes. A true Atlantean. It was everything that you could have ever dreamed of and as he kept you from floating away this moment was more than you could have ever dreamed of.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before," Orm didn't want anything left unsaid. This was his chance. His chance to be himself and to stop being so alone in this world that he was learning more about every day. His time in Atlantis was done and now he was going to have to start anew. Maybe you were that new chance that he had been needing for a long time.

"It's okay," she answered. Her voice muffled in the helmet. Fish swam by coming near to Orm, pecking at his arm. He shooed them away gently causing her to laugh. "You don't have to explain yourself. We had just met that day and even at this moment we are still basically strangers. But I'm glad I met you Orm and your secret is safe with me."

"Thank you," he choked. Gratitude had been lost on him long ago but as he looked at this young woman, so genuine and beautiful in his eyes, that feeling was no longer a stranger. "Would you like to see more of my world?"

"Absolutely!" No hesitation and no fear. Orm kept her close, keeping her safe as he swam them further out into the sea.

Back on dry land you couldn't believe what your eyes had beheld. The world under was far beyond anything you could have ever imagined as Orm helped steady you. Spending that much time in the water had left your legs a little wobbly and you glared at Orm walking perfectly though he did have to take a moment to cough up water. You held out the helmet towards him but he shook his head pushing it back into your chest.

"Keep it," Orm insisted. "I want to take you out more now that you have it. There's so much more I wish to show and tell you. I hope that you don't mind."

She shook her head, stepping towards him. "I would like that so much."

Without a second thought she embraced him, squeezing Orm tightly before backing away, that familiar blush coming back to her cheeks. Reaching out Orm brushed a stray droplet of sea water off her cheek.

"Until tomorrow," he whispered and she nodded quickly.

Days had followed that moment before it had turned into weeks. Orm met with her daily, the helmet in tow every time as they explored together. She the underwater world he had grew up in and him emotions never before explored. Orm knew he couldn't take her far below the surface as he wished. He was trying his best to get a suit that would keep her from being crushed by the water pressure or freezing from the depths, but it would take some time. The helmet was easy to obtain, well easier than the suit. But she didn't complain nor did she beg him for more. Always content with their outings he began to realize that he looked forward to every second they spent together every day. It didn't take Orm long to figure out the emotions he was feeling and everything seemed to fall into place. She was beginning to swim closer to him as every day passed. Gentle touches and encounters that would leave her in awe and him trying to not overstep his bounds.

She swam closer keeping to his side as the day began to wan and like everything good in life their time together was ending that day. Orm always took his time bringing them both back to shore whenever it was time to head back in. She never seemed to be in a hurry herself and it had Orm wondering on things that he couldn't ask her when they first me. He wondered why she came by herself every day and those moments she had hid on the dock as several people had come searching, yelling her name. He wondered at the days that she had came crying as if she could no longer smile. And now that he had gotten to know her more it was something he could no longer keep himself from asking about.

Back on shore she removed the helmet and rung the sea water from her hair. Orm stayed near as he gathered up the courage to ask her. He was about to ask her about something she had yet to give up willingly and he didn't want to cause her to shut him out. He honestly didn't know if he could take losing her. He breathed in deeply gathering up all his courage, he stepped closer and grasped onto her shoulder to gain her attention and steady himself. She grinned up at him before it fell at the seriousness in his blue eyes.

"What is it," she asked covering his hand with hers that still laid upon her shoulder.

"Why do you come to the docks every day? And why do you hide from the people that call out to you and cry on some days?"

There he asked and he felt faint as she looked down at the waves lapping at their bare feet.

"You saw those moments too?" She whispered.

"I did," Orm confessed. " I've come to care for you these past few weeks and I can't help my curiosity getting the best of me. Knowing that you hurt or have any reason to hide is too much for me to bear."

She paused for a moment, gathering her strength. "I was in a bad relationship. I got out of it but the pain is still there and some days are worse than others. I find peace out here and that's why I always come and then I met you. And despite me telling you why that day, you didn't laugh at me like he and several other people did. I was really glad. You made me happy. Part of me was hoping that I'd get to see you again and yet I was afraid of getting hurt again too."

"That was brave," Orm cooed bringing her into his arms. He was warm despite the lack of shirt and all the time spent in the water. She shook from the cold and from telling things that had been hard on her. "You're the bravest and kindest person I have ever met."

"I'm not really," she answered.

"You really are," Orm breathed. "I'm the coward. I didn't like this part of the world at all. I tried to destroy it because of my older brother. I blamed him for a lot of things and I hated him. I still don't love him as a little brother should but my hatred cost me. I was prince of Atlantis once and I was even it's king for a short spell. But that was taken from me and now I am thought of as dead. I cannot go back there because I have officially been killed in action." Orm sucked in a deep breath as he feared what you would do now that you knew about his darkness, though he kept going. "This is both my punishment and my new life. This is both my brother's way of blessing me and cursing me. But I don't see it as a curse anymore, not that I know you now."

"Orm," she sniffled.

He tugged her in, her trembling body pressed to his as he tried to will any form of comfort into her smaller body. He felt lighter and more at peace than he had ever felt and while she held onto him tightly, Orm lost the battle on his emotional restraints. Holding her out he took in the sight of her, clearly seeing everything about her for the first time. And for the first time in his life, he felt truly loved. Not for being royalty of Atlantis or because they had to. Genuine love that asked for nothing in return. He leaned down towards her his stature always towering over her and it wasn't until his lips met her warmer ones did the fireworks start shooting off in his head. She didn't shove him away and she didn't protest so Orm pulled her closer. Deepening the kiss as he could taste the salty water still on her mouth and the scent of the ocean breeze on her skin. In that moment she was everything to him and he could want for nothing else as long as she stayed. She cupped his cheek, stroking his skin before Orm finally pulled away. His chest heaved and he couldn't bring himself to give her up just yet. He continued to hold her against his chest, not ever wanting this moment to end.

"Is it okay that we start a new life together," her voice quivered in uncertainty. She felt like she was going too fast or overstepping her bounds.

"I think I would like that more than you know," he agreed. This was when his life started. That new beginning he wanted for so long, that he dreamed about in that prison cell. This was the moment he longed for and had no idea. That moment he met her had been fate and had lead him to this moment. Their days together didn't have to end when their feet touched the shore, it was only the start of something on the shore. While he was her guide in the water, here on the land and in the midst of people it was her turn to guide him. She took his hand, taking the responsibility for teaching and leading in stride. They would learn together what this life meant and what it meant to know each other and keep together through thick and thin. Orm had baggage and come to find out she did too. But Orm didn't see that, he saw a woman who could light his way. She saw a man that had found redemption and was looking for a way to claim it. The sun had set behind them on the beach but the dawn was rising before them as they left hand in hand towards the life they would find together. Like two ships destined for each other, a new life was just beginning.

[perfectwitchcrown]

Allusions in Make the Exorcist Fall in Love

So far in Make the Exorcist Fall in Love there’s been a lot of allusions to various texts. I thought it might be fun to compile all the ones people have noticed so far as far as I've seen. Some of these are more speculative than others and I will update as I go along. Also, I read Ekuoto as free first read chapters on Mangaplus so unfortunately I can’t go back and check much so this is largely through memory, so if anyone has anything else to add I would greatly appreciate it! All I’ve got is a few screenshots and a dream. If I get anything wrong feel free to correct me! I’ve organized this in order of allusions I’m confident about to allusions I’m less so confident about.

CW: reference to sexual violence

Dante's Divine Comedy and Vita Nuova: Dante Alighieri

This one is pretty obvious since there are characters directly named after the characters figured in Dante’s Inferno. It’s been a long time since I read it, but other details are also taken from the text, such as the frozen center of hell where Satan is located.

Lmao Leah from the Bible (who is probably Leah’s namesake) also shows up in Dante’s Divine Comedy apparently in Purgatorio.

Ok also super important to Dante retellings r Beatrice, who’s used as a symbol of divine love and is instrumental to Dante's journey through hell, purgatory, and paradise, so of course Ekuoto Dante advises Priest to fall in love lmao. So far though there hasn’t been a direct Beatrice in narrative (which there might never be one since the text has already made the Dante-Virgil connection an active choice of Virgilius's to reference the Divine Comedy rather than just an allusion by the author).

To be so real though I figure that Vergilius is probably also intended to be the Beatrice in this narrative.

The points I would draw attention in support of this would be these: 1. Beatrice is the woman who Dante has been in love with since early childhood but unable to ever be with because they both married others. Ekuoto Virgilius and Dante have known each other since childhood, and have something going on. 2. Beatrice is, like Virgil, one of Dante’s guides (through part of purgatorio and paradiso) 3. We still don’t know what Virgilius’s name was before he took that one on. Beatrice does not have a masculine form in current use and I tried finding some sort of nickname that would work and was unable to do so. However. Beatrice’s name is rendered in Japanese as ベアトリーチェ, and Beato is at least a surname. Then again, I’m not sure anyone has both a first name and last name except for Imuri so far???

"Book of Tobit"

I wasn’t familiar w this one so I didn’t notice it until I saw posts pointing it out, but the Asmodeus flashback was a retelling of the book of Tobit. Other people have already done analysis of this so I’d recommend checking other’s out. Unfortunately I failed to save the link to any of them so I can’t pass any along :’) Belfagor arcidiavolo: Machiavelli

Another one that I wasn’t familiar with but have seen people referencing. As above, I recommend checking out other’s analysis. "Those Who Walk Away from Omelas": Ursula K. Le Guin

The Brothers Karamazov: Fyodor Dostoevsky

Ok major spoilers and I also highly recommend this book, but also, its super long so I don’t blame anyone who chooses not to read. This book is about the most disgusting father alive and his three, maybe four, sons: Dimitri, Ivan, Alyosha, and maybe Smerdyakov (rumored to be an illegitimate son). Most of the action follows Alyosha, who is the youngest and probably the most idealistic character in the novel, at least in the beginning. Alyosha starts out as a novice in the local Russian Orthodox monastery under the purview of Father Zossima, an elder who really emphasizes love in religious practice. There's a series of chapters that cover a theological debate between Ivan and Alyosha.

In this theological debate, Ivan is arguing not that God doesn’t exist, but that the foundation of the world as understood by Christianity is something he fundamentally rejects.

Quotations from the Signet Classics edition:

“I don’t accept this world of God’s. Although I know it exists, I don’t accept it at all. It’s not that I don’t accept God, you must understand, it’s the world created by Him I don’t and cannot accept” (Dostoevsky 266) - “If all must suffer to pay for eternal harmony, what have children to do with it?....I understand solidarity in sin among men. I understand solidarity in retribution too; but there can be no such solidarity with children. And if it is really true that they must share responsibility for all their father’s crimes, such a truth is not of this world and is beyond my comprehension” (Dostoevsky 276)

“Imagine that you are creating a fabric of human destiny with the object of making men happy in the end, giving them peace and rest at last. Imagine you are doing this but that it is essential and inevitable to torture to death only one tiny creature—that child beating its breast with its fist, for instance—in order to found that edifice on its unavenged tears. Would you consent to be the architect on those conditions?” (This quotation, although from a different translation, is the one that inspired Omelas - I think the bowling alley theological discussion between Virgilius and Priest bears some similarities to this conversation. Its not a debate about the existence of god, but rather a debate whether or not the world envisioned by Christianity is inherently unjust or not. Demian: Hermann Hesse

“The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born must first destroy a world. The bird flies to God. That God's name is Abraxas”

Potential references but tbh they’re a bit of a stretch:

“Book of Martha”: Octavia Butler

"Book of Martha" is an Octavia Butler short story in the Bloodchild collection about an ordinary woman who is visited by god one day who tells her to choose one thing to change about people to try and make the world a better place. It’s a very short read and I’d recommend reading it before you read the next sentence where I’ll spoil the end.

She eventually decides that the thing to focus on is people’s dreams. Specifically, to give them the things they desire most within their dreams, in the hope that people will be less violent to each other in real life. A stretch, but Octavia Butler comes from similar recommendation circles as Ursula K. Le Guin (feminist science fiction authors with overlapping periods of activity) so I don’t think it’s impossible for the most recent chapters' use of dreams to hold some sort of inspiration from this short story. Again, this one is a pretty big stretch, as the idea of dreams to escape reality is pretty common.

The Monk: Matthew Lewis

Ok! So! Demon seduces a person is like not at all an original story (The Daemon Lover, Cazotte’s The Devil in Love, etc etc). BUT! The Monk is specifically a story that’s like. What if there was this extremely virtuous young man who has never lived in the outside world ever because he was raised in the church as an orphan and then the devil sent a demon girl to seduce him.

I have not finished the book yet so I can’t comment in depth on it other than to say the concept is similar but the execution so far is very different (It's a fairly misogynistic text. Ambrosio turns evil in ways that I doubt Priest will because thematically they’d go completely against the story. Also, The Monk is veryyy lurid in terms of Lust is Evil!!! And will turn you into a murdering maniac!!!! Because evil women are out there seducing you!!! Whereas so far sexual desire in Ekuoto has been handled as a perfectly natural thing, but complicated by religion, patriarchy, trauma, etc.)

This is all I have so far but I'd be interested to see if anyone else has any other ideas!

[gladiatorcunt]

RASPBERRY - CORIOLANUS SNOW

summary: the apparent end of an era

cw: implication of infant death, canon typical violence and canon major character death (if that’s how you read it), unnecessary oc children (mention of pregnancy), reader’s in lucy grays place (chosen to be in the games and etc. not as a substitute for coryo) but if she went back to capitol with him, old man snow loses his marbles, open to interpretation ending, canon typical district citizens slander (and katniss slander but it’s snow’s pov), og timeline reader in this story died in between thg and catching fire, treating this as dark content due to vagueness regarding how willing the reader is

wc: 1.3k

requests are open (read the rules first <3)

block & move on if uncomfortable

do not repost or translate!!

“Boys, workin' on empty

Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat?

I just think about my baby

I'm so full of love I could barely eat

There's nothing sweeter than my baby

I'd never want once from the cherry tree

'Cause my baby's sweet as can be

She give me toothaches just from kissin' me.”

- Work Song // Hozier

Caecilia Snow can hardly stomach what she is about to witness. Her oldest sister, Iovita, stands stoned faced behind her. One of her svelte hands clasped around her left shoulder. A mask, she’s sure. Vita always did have troubles with expressing her emotions. The middle sister, Agrippina, is a complicated mix of both. Her hand is warmer on Caecilia’s right shoulder, but the blisters make it uncomfortable. Cato, the steadfast and tough oldest son, does not look at all. One can only wonder how he felt about that tribute from two, poor souls. Little Ignacius (she will always see him as such even though he's grown a head taller than her) brow is furrowed so terribly, she fears it might get stuck.

And strange Silvanus, the second son, he isn’t even on the balcony with his beloved siblings. Perhaps he is lost in his thoughts again. He wonders now if when his father smells the wood of the gallows, he thinks of a forest out in twelve that he haunted decades ago. The handkercheif he uses to hastily wipe his tears before he can gather the courage to join his family possess drops of blood every time he pulls it away. From his nose or drug up from his lungs, who can say? The wall outside the library his father had made especially for their mother on their wedding anniversary takes several blows from his aching clenched fist. So much blood, like father like son. Silvanus feels comforted by the persistent thought.

Ignacius eyes his brother with open concern as he saunters into view beside him. He barely manages to hide his wobble and his rush to stuff a stained cloth into his pocket does nothing to ease Ignacius’s worries. Silvanus has been one of the more sensitive ones in their parade, though that has never meant that he has not fought for his family. It is because of that that when Silvanus relents to the beseeching stare of his younger brother, Ignacius nods with utmost determination. The second son softens minutely and eventually returns it.

“Snow lands on top.” Six voices whisper in chorus.

Somewhere in an alabaster mausoleum, resides an ornate urn containing what would have been a seventh voice.

At the end of it all, President Coriolanus Snow smiles and he laughs with his entire chest like you’ve told him your funniest joke. Blood pours from his mouth like hot wax. His forked tongue doggy paddles in the little sea of crimson. A weathered hand with hard to spot cracks in the skin and light purple spots clasps itself firmly around the rose pinned to his suit. The wind seems to circle around Coriolanus Snow and he heaves a hearty chuckle when it ruffles through his hair. You’re with him even now as the foundations of your dynasty crumble and scatter over a stormy cliffside. A most welcomed and yearned for torment. His dearest specter.

Finally.

It seems even a Mockingjay’s tiny brain can manage.

It brings to mind the memory of another unfortunate like her. An Angel of Death from 11, tall and hunkered over. A flag being ripped from its rightful place and being pulled over rotting corpses. They were laid so closely together, they might as well have been a pack of sardines. There was ample meaning in his rustic burial, and there were snakes that suffocated it in their multicolored den. A precious rainbow after a great flood.

He’s not the only boy she reminds him of, but he’s unable to recall the second one’s name. A ghost that hovers on the edge of his mind.

Nevermind how useless her brief moment of assumed triumph will be. The games may be locked in a box in the minds of Panem and shoved away so they can be blissfully ignorant, but there will always be those in favor of them. What they represent will remain just as their purpose will prove itself once again when the people are governed by the rabid cannibals that ate them. Dogs can’t be trusted to be left to their own devices and off their leashes. Such deranged creatures were far better suited for being submerged in the violence of their own making.

Panem today. Panem tomorrow. Panem forever.

The soft dulcet tones of silenced voices ring out, something he once knew about a man who murdered three. The white fog fades away and Coriolanus wakes with a muffled shout to find himself in a raggedy bunk in an all too familiar building. his hands tremble but they look no different. with a disbelieving laugh he realizes that nothing has changed yet, that he has been rewarded for decades of dedication and devotion to Panem. That his herculean task others once thought of as sisyphean had been irrevocably realized.

3 daughters, 3 sons. Countless grandchildren. A legacy that will no doubt be remembered no matter the connotations associated with it.

Coryo’s heart is thundering like it did back then on that fateful day, and it does not slow by the time he’s shoved his things into a sack and hidden in the back of a truck. He could sway from the dizziness of deja vu. The truck soon comes to a stop and he clamors out of it, jumping out and racing however many yards he has to until he can spot his heart doing a terrible job of hiding behind a pillar. Anyone with a working set of eyes could discern the scarlet edges of your skirt swishing from side to side. They would have an unchallenging time seeing you suppress the urge to pick at the skin around your nails.

For the first time in over a year, Coriolanus Snow is utterly consumed by the urge to burst into tears. His beautiful beautiful dryad. The blood red dress he had ran himself ragged to buy clung to you like a lover as you twirled around nervously looking for him. Never in his life had a decision been so easy, so with a grateful chuckle and an embarrassingly giddy grin he bounds over to you. The light splintered through the trees nearby, the way it raked through your eyes and made them sparkle brought him fantastic grief. To him, they have never once lost that illustrious shine.

“I thought you’d never show up, Coryo. I was startin’ to worry a bit.”

Your hand feels like a delicious brand when it slips into his, impossibly soft and his cock throbs in his pants at the countless memories it elicits. In an apparent recreation of Pygmalion gazing upon the stone turned flesh form of Galatea, his love spills from him like a reopened wound. his Aphrodite on earth, his goddess with a never-ending number of rose petals in her hair.

“Not even a bullet in my back could keep me from you, dove.”

A garter snake slithers by between the two of you and before you can notice, Coryo swiftly crushes its head under the heel of his boot. The forest is blessedly silent. His world is kept from cleaving in two by the invisible string you’ve looped around his neck.

The putrid smell of the woods around you forces you to attempt to hide yourself gagging behind your hand. His lips twitch but he suppresses the urge to smile in that smug but infuriatingly hot way he knows you secretly love.

You’d better make quick work of getting over the mountains, you’re pregnant after all.

a/n: I’m sick and on bed rest (the cold is kicking my immune system’s ass) so wip progress has stopped but I had this in the drafts. call me Suzanne Collins because I tried with the naming symbolism. Please reblog if you liked it and yell at me about him if you want <3

[darklydeliciousdesires]

La Dolce Vita - John Shelby/Cosima Changretta (OFC).

So, I decided to begin this new little series of mine, besties. It shan't be delivered in regular chapter form, but a series of one-shot parts that will tell the story of John and Cosima's marriage, beginning from their wedding day. I hope you enjoy it :)

Words - 3,682

Warnings - Each part will be adult only content, from swearing to eventual smut and violence. Minors DNI.

Part I - Inferno

The blood of a thousand men could stain a thousand streets, cold, hard warfare spinning out of control in a haze of spatter and gunpowder, yet sometimes all it took was the presence of a woman to end it all. 

And it had.  

It didn’t mean the woman in question had to like it, though. 

“No.” The word fell from his lips with mild irritation as he took in the sight before him. “You will not wear black.” 

Cosima didn’t even attempt to hide her distain. “Why not? This is a death, after all.” 

Luca couldn’t help but feel entertained by her words, even though she was rapidly whittling him down to his very last nerve. “You are so dramatic, la mia sorellina.” She always had been. “It’s about time you were somebody’s wife, and you will make a good wife, too. Every man betrothed to an Italian woman should recognise how damned lucky he is.”  

“And me?” Her cadence rose sharply, her voice bordering on shrill. “What about me, Luca?” 

9:23am and already, he wished he’d had the sense to bring some aspirin with him. “You will do as you are told, Sima. And wear white while you do it.”  

The silky drawl of her brother never rose beyond the smooth hush he spoke with, but his words packed the same punch as they would have had he yelled them. He was also the only person alive who she allowed to shorten her name. People had called her Cos in school, swiftly ending up with a slapped face for it. Her Italian fire had been lit pretty much since the day she’d been born. “I wish I’d brought mama with me now.” 

His lip curled, a soft rumble of a laugh echoing his throat, sucking on the matchstick he pulled from between his lips as he pointed it at her. “We both know why you didn’t.” 

“Yes,” she chirped, admiring her reflection in the mirror, “you’re paying.”  

Again, she prompted his smile. Few did, really, save Anna Maria, his wife, as well as his sons, Joey and Guiseppe. “I am, cara mia. Listen, if you want the black dress, I’ll buy it for you. You won’t be married in it, though. Imagine if mama was here, eh? She’d be, ah, much more vocal than I about it.” 

This was true. Audrey would have taken over rather than sitting quietly like Luca. “I’m beginning to think she’d fuss much less than you.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Try on the next dress, for the love of god.”  

Huffing and cussing in their native tongue, Cosima flounced back behind the privacy screen, getting herself out of the dress, the nearby assistant helping her into the white lace gown. Her face was a picture of utter contempt upon emerging, raising her middle finger when Luca quietly applauded her appearance. 

“Perfect.” 

“I fucking hate it,” she sneered, the assistant’s eyes bulging a little at her coarse language. 

“Cosima, you would hate even the most exquisite of gowns, crafted by the finest of designers,” he pointed out, standing and walking to her slowly. He reached beneath her chin, raising it up, placing a little kiss upon her forehead. “You look beautiful. La belladonna. It is done.”  

His word was final, and she knew this well. It did not mean she had to be quiet or graceful in her compliance, though. Being wed to a Shelby, after all they had done, the war that had seen the deaths of both her treasured brother and beloved papa, was not a fate she relished in.  

Negotiations in order to cease the bloodshed and forge ahead in a new bond, running Shelby gin into New York with the assistance of her family and their connections had been sealed by a proposed joining of their families through marriage. Her marriage, to John Shelby.  

How she had screamed and complained when Luca had informed her of this truce sealing union. Glasses and ornaments had been smashed in tempestuous fury, Cosima’s ire reaching the kind of decibels that had taken Luca and Audrey much effort and nips of gin to quieten, the youngest of the Changretta clan storming from her mother’s home, walking the streets, chain smoking in blind fury.  

The only silver lining? At least Luca had not decreed that she marry the man who had killed her father, not that she actually could. For his sins, Arthur Shelby breathed no longer. Neither did Grace Shelby, nor Esme Shelby, the late wife of the man soon to be her husband, the gypsy beauty getting in the way of a hit meant for John on Christmas Day and lamentably not surviving it.  

And Cosima thought her hand dealt was bad. For John, it was decidedly bleaker by far.  

His brother was gone, his wife was gone, his sister-in-law was gone, and his fate was now bound to a person belonging to a family whom he couldn’t stand with any ounce of tolerance. Tolerance was what he had to show, though, in order to keep relations smoothed over, before anybody else ended up dead.  

“It’s a fresh start for us all, John boy,” Tommy began, standing in front of his brother, straightening his tie. “I don’t expect you to be happy about it, but...” 

“Good, ‘cos I ain’t,” he cut in with, his jaw tightening, refusing to meet his brother’s eye. “Esme is barely fucking cold, and you’ve got me marrying some wop bitch. Trust me, Tom. I ain’t fucking happy in the slightest.”   

The elder Shelby truly had no comeback for that. He knew his actions were a slap in the face to John, to Arthur, to Esme and to the love of his life, but there was no other way around it. He didn’t plan on losing anybody else to a war that could be negotiated through. It had been tough to bargain, but peace had been restored finally, Tommy reasoning that scores had been settled upon both sides of the divide.  

They were more than even. In fact, they truly weren’t, two lives on the Changretta side, three on the Shelby, two innocent women coming into the crossfire and dying because of it. He was not prepared to lose more. If he could also turn a very tidy profit while not losing more, then so be it.  

Finally, he managed to catch the icy stare of his brother, Tommy squeezing his shoulders. “Give it time. At least you’re getting wed to an attractive woman. Could have matched you to a right scrag, but I didn’t.” 

She could have been the queen of fucking Sheba for all John cared. Her beauty or lack thereof was neither here nor there. She wasn’t Esme, and that was all there was to it. “Gotta habit of this, you have, marrying me off to some bird I ain’t ever clapped eyes on until I get to the altar, all for the sake of keeping the peace.”  

There hadn’t been an actual altar at his wedding to Esme, but this time there was no room for negotiation. The priest local to the district Cosima Changretta lived in had been given a hefty bung to marry them, regardless of the fact that John was a non-practising Catholic. Usually, Father David would have required he at least attend weekly mass for a few months prior to the wedding, but this wasn’t possible when the union had been set up to take place within the space of a week from its original incarnation. 

Through his disesteem, John wasn’t blind to see the benefits of joining the families in order to broker peace, though. He just wished there was some other way, one that didn’t involve him forsaking his late wife’s memory, or literally getting into bed with a member of the very family who had taken three members of his. 

With a red rose buttonhole pinned to his charcoal suit – those specific flowers at Cosima’s request – they headed out to the waiting car, ready to be ferried across Birmingham to the district of Bournville, to St Francis of Assisi. 

“Holy shit, the waft of that bloody chocolate," Polly spoke from the back of the car, the famous Cadbury factory emitting the heady scent of it’s delicious confectionary. “Making my mouth water, it is.” 

“Well, as long as the air smells like Dairy fucking Milk, all’s right as rain, ain’t it, Pol?” John muttered, watching the little black and white houses dotted along the main road pass them by. It was such a different landscape than the one he was used to, the village of Bournville so very picturesque and quaint.  

Polly tutted. “Oi, less of your fucking lip, our John. Don’t make today any harder than it has to be by being a surly shit about it.”  

“Yeah, but...”  

She cut his protests dead with her usual blunt retort. “We know, for the love of god! You’ve vented your spleen so hard at this, I’m surprised you have one left! This isn’t ideal, but it’ll bring us peace and let me rest my fucking head easy at night, not worrying when the next of my fucking nephew’s is going to end up riddled with bullet holes. Now, put your fucking face straight. We’re nearly there.”  

He could have begun his protests once more, vented at how it wasn’t right that he was being thrown into wedlock again just four months after his second wife had died, how at thirty years old, he shouldn’t have already had to attend the funerals of two Mrs. Shelby’s, but he knew it would serve him little good.  

Arriving at the church, they made their way inside, John surprised to be greeted kindly by Audrey Changretta, who was standing talking to the verger.  

“A lot of water has gone under the bridge, John. All I want going forward is for you to be a good man to my Cosima. Can you do that for me, love?” 

His heartstrings were yanked upon hard, knowing how much his actions had devastated her. She looked weary from it all, the sparkle in her eyes non-existent. He’d never wanted her to be hurt in all of this, the teacher he held so many fond memories of, the woman he had steadfastly refused to murder in cold blood. “I can. I promise I will.”  

She patted his cheek, smiling thinly. That smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and for that he couldn’t blame her. “Thank you.” She exchanged nods with Polly and Tommy, the Shelby’s moving into the church, smiling to their family and friends as they passed the pews, the Changretta presence outnumbering them by about two to one.  

He and Tommy stood to the side of the altar, Polly taking a seat at the first pew between Finn and Ada, the latter giving the groom-to-be a bolstering smile. It had little of its desired effect, John feeling a cold swirl of discomfort growing chillier by the moment. “Forgive me, Esme. I fucking wish this weren’t happening just as much as I wish you were still here, love.”  

His deeply lamenting thoughts were banished by the sound of the organ keys pressed upon, the church filling with music as the congregation stood, Father David quickly shaking both his and Tommy’s hands before his focus shifted towards the doors, beaming as he watched Cosima escorted in by her brother. The bride looked exquisite in her white lace gown, her cascading veil shrouding her face, the dress very quintessentially Italian in fashion. 

John didn’t dare turn around and watch her walk to him, only aware of her arrival at his side from the strong plume of Chanel perfume entering his nose, finally turning to see Luca gently lift her veil, kissing her cheek and whispering a few words in Italian to her. He then moved to John, surprising him by offering his hand.  

“To famiglia, eh?” 

“Yeah,” he coughed, shaking it. The Italian’s grip was like Iron, his face unflinching. There was no true warmth there. “To family.”  

Luca moved to sit at his mother’s side, John finally letting his eyes fall to his left, taking her in for the first time. His throat tightened in an instant. He’d thought Esme to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, the guilt of the fact that Cosima Changretta was the biggest knockout he’d ever witnessed hitting him hard.  

As for his soon to be wife, when her piercing blue eyes found his, the sensation of her heart skipping on three consecutive beats made her feel a little nauseous for a moment.  

He was gorgeous.  

Why did he have to be gorgeous? It would have made hating him so much easier if he’d been ugly.  

“At least I will have something nice to look at, while I’m throwing plates at his head.” She thought, turning to the priest and smiling as best she could, given the circumstances.  

The ceremony was a long, tedious affair, the bride wishing for a traditional mass that bored the balls off John. He did well to hide it, though. What he failed miserably at was looking in any way, shape or form happy when they were pronounced man and wife, offering her a chaste kiss to the cheek, a speedy peck of non-affection. Cosima was relieved he hadn’t leaned to her mouth. She wasn’t ready for that yet.  

Taking his arm, she walked back down the aisle as the newest member of the Shelby family, her eyes sad as she looked at her mother and brother. They smiled at her with loving pride, Cosima dropping her chin, lest they see the tears in her eyes as she walked alongside her new husband, a man she couldn’t stand. True, she knew nothing of John Shelby, other than what he’d had a hand in taking from her.  

With every step, she had to physically prevent herself from gathering the bridal lace swathing her slender curves and running, back to Acacia Road, back to the family home. This was where she desired to be, out in the flower filled back garden tending to her roses, taking cuttings of herbs ready to be brought into the kitchen and tutored by her darling mother in everything from Carbonara to baked Ziti. 

She longed for the scents of her mother’s pasta, to hear her father’s key in the door, his whistled tunes filling the homestead as she’d wipe her hands upon her apron and run to greet him. Her papa, the man she loved and respected the very most. Gone.  

“You erm, you look beautiful, Cosima.”  

His face did not match his compliment, Cosima looking up at her new husband, her face stony. “I know. Shame my dream wedding didn’t come with the dream groom, though.”  

John sniffed, his eyebrow tilting a fraction. “Ahh, you might still get it yet. We can get divorced and give it another go with other people. Who knows? I could nail it lucky the fourth time around.” 

Her eyes widened. “You’ve been married twice before?”  

“Ar.” 

“And what the blinking hell happened to them?” she demanded, wondering just what her brother had gotten her into, marrying her off to a man who was on his third wife. 

“They died, if you must know,” he frowned, reaching the end of the aisle, the door opening, a cascade of confetti hurled at them from the throng of guests exiting behind them. 

“Lucky them.” Her mutter was drowned out by the sound of happy cheers, or at least she thought it had been. Her new husband had heard it, though, wanting nothing more than to slap her in her rude mouth for her coldly delivered statement. 

“Great, got myself hitched to a stunner and she’s a right nasty little mare.” he spoke, certainly loud enough for her to hear, releasing the hold upon her arm and moving to receive congratulations from his family. Cosima narrowed her eyes at him in his wake, turning to smile brightly at her friends, her hands taken in theirs, cheeks kissed, her heart thrumming with waves of sadness. A right nasty little mare. That’s what he thought of her, Cosima’s indignance burning brightly for a while, not able to reflect upon the fact that what she’d said had indeed been very spiteful.  

At twenty-three, she truly should have known better. With two dead wives behind him and a bitterness that still lingered beneath the surface between the two families, she guessed he was likely as thrilled to be married to her as she was to him. An apology perhaps wouldn’t go amiss.  

Once they’d posed for a few photographs, the bride and groom were shown to the waiting Rolls Royce Silver Cloud, John holding the door open for her, following her in and staring stonily out of the window as they pulled away from the church.  

She felt awkward and ashamed of her words, moving her thumb back and forth over one of the large thorns the florist had neglected to remove from the bouquet of red roses. “John, I apologise for what I said, about your late wives being lucky. I only meant that... I don’t know what I meant, actually.” 

She was met by a cold, two worded statement. “Fuck off.”  

Deserved, to be fair. Predictably, Cosima let it spark at her kindling rather than rushing for water, though. “That’s impossible, now I’m your wife. Don’t bloody pout at me. I said something regrettable, but because of your family I don’t have Angel or my father any longer. You yourself are directly responsible for the former. If you hadn’t beaten him within an inch of his life, he wouldn’t have lay vulnerable in hospital, ripe for the plucking. And let’s not forget that scumbag of a brother of yours, who killed my papa.” 

He tutted, chewing his toothpick with hostility. “Don’t act like you’re the only one who lost somebody you loved. Fucking gone right over your head, ain’t it? Because of your family, I lost me wife, brother and sister-in-law. We’re in the same boat, Cosima.” 

“You started all of this. You could have just let Lizzie be happy with Angel, but no! You had to burn his restaurant to the fucking ground. What is it you dumb Shelby fucks say, hmm? By order of the Peaky Blinders, that’s it! Your way or the highway!” 

Bile began licking at his insides. “Your brother weren’t good enough for Lizzie. She’s a good woman, and he was a fucking duplicitous shit. Didn’t even have the balls to use his real name for half his dealings. At least we stand by who we fucking are.” 

Her rage escalated by the second, staring at him incredulously. “My brother had the sense to be clandestine, and you will not speak of him like you knew him! So, he partnered with your enemies, so fucking what? The way you Shelby’s conduct yourself, you make enemies left and fucking right! You took my family away from me for nothing. Nothing!” 

John eyed her viciously, his eyes losing any trace of warmth. “They fucking deserved it, and you, you spoiled little wop bitch? You deserve nothing less than every fucking ounce of my contempt. We’re married in name only, believe me. Ain’t no way I’m gonna be a good husband to you, no matter what I promised your mom.” 

“Fine by me!”  

The air virtually crackled with their mutual distain, Cosima shuffling as far as she could get away from him, muttering cusses in Italian. 

“I know what testa di cazzo means,” he spat. 

“Good!” she fumed, “I want you to know I think you’re a dickhead!” 

The reception was being held at a small hotel local to the church, Cosima storming out of the car and not looking back, fixing a huge, fake smile to her face as she was welcomed by the staff. Immediately, her eyes locked onto a waiter carrying a tray of champagne filled flutes, taking one and knocking it back. A second was reached for, John arriving at her side.  

“Whiskey please, mate. Fucking large one.” 

The waiter nodded. “At once, sir.”  

They stood together to welcome their guests, both repelled by one another’s presence, going through the motions of everything. Cake cutting, first dance, spending as much time as they could away from one another. It was while John was seeking the solace of quiet and fresh night air much later that evening, standing on the rear patio of the hotel smoking a cigar, that he found himself joined by the last person he expected. 

“Can I give you some advice, John?” 

Turning to Luca, he raised an eyebrow, the tall Italian continuing. “If you want a quiet life with my sister, you need to keep her in the lifestyle she’s become accustomed to. I love that girl to her bones, but she’s a fucking spoiled princess.” 

His eyes widened. “You can say that again.” 

Luca’s mouth twitched, removing the toothpick he’d been idly chewing on. “My father bent to her every whim, being his only daughter. She was daddy’s little girl. Roses, diamonds, furs, French perfume, she loves all of that. You treat her good and she’ll be sweet with you. And make sure she has a garden. That kid lives for horticulture.” 

Luckily, he was wealthy enough to provide such luxuries for his new bride, not that he wanted to. Not that she deserved even one of them. “Noted.”  

He nodded, turning to leave his new brother-in-law to it, pausing suddenly as he pointed the toothpick in his grasp at him. “Oh, and John? She’s got a thing for hurling plates. Learn to duck.” Laughing to himself, he carried on back into the hotel, while John felt a prickle of annoyance at his statement, or rather how much pleasure he’d derived from delivering the news that Cosima was nothing short of a bad-tempered handful.  

Standing out there alone, he did hope that one day he might see her as something different. Whether that day would come swiftly or not was anybody’s guess, though. 

[blueberri-blu]

Ch.5 Mea Vita ∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡

[rise]Future!Donnie x Future!Reader & Donnie x Reader (Post Krang Invasion)

Warnings: Angst, Character Death, gore, injuries, may add more

Please heed the warnings

←Previous Next→

∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

Previously...

However, as Deadpool once said, life is full of commercials of happiness, and now, you were back to your regularly scheduled program.

But of course, it was never that easy.

It was a simple gathering mission, get in, grab the stuff, get out.In fact, it was what you could only describe as, the absolute worst day of your life.

∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

You wished you had never come here. All of those small, happy moments with Older Donnie could never compare to the pain you were feeling right now.

You, Older Donnie, and Older Mikey had all gone on a gathering mission. Older Donnie needed some new tech to help things in the med bay, and Older Mikey was going to look for food. You had come along to help them both, since it was supposed to be a safe area.

It, as you soon discovered, most definitely was not.

Oh dear

There was so much blood

It all happened so fast.

One second you and Older Donnie were playfully bantering with each other as you grabbed some medical supplies.

And the next you saw a Krang Tendril

How could someone bleed so much

Your hands... Oh gosh, they were completely covered in the red cells

You felt dizzy, cold, and pale

It was as if your heart had stopped, and so did time

All you could hear was ringing

And all you could feel was the warm red substance all over you

You tried to focus, you really did

But all you could focus on was what was in front of you

"y/n!" "Donnie!"

You were drowning, drowning in the warm blood you were covered in

How could you let this happen?

Three fingers came up to cup your face

"My dear, All I want you to know- ugh, is that I Love You, so much more than I let on, so much more than you could ever imagine"

The 2 ringed necklace was placed in your hands

And then it was all gone.

You tried to look in his eyes, to find anything, any sign of life

Yet there wasn't any.

His battle shell laid in pieces around you

The krang Tendril had gone right. Through. Him.

As if he was nothing.

Older Donnie was laying in your lap, lifeless, full of blood, and here you were

Just holding him

He was gone. Forever. He was never coming back.

You saw Red.

You grabbed his tech bo he carried, just in case

And just lost it.

Older Leo had arrived, since Older Mikey pressed his panic button.

Both he and Older Mikey were stunned

There you were, Donnie's sweet s/o, you were their healer, you were sweet, and kind.

Yet.. here you were

Stabbing, kicking, punching, just absolutely destroying the Krang that had killed their brother.

They had never seen such pure rage, not like this at least.

It got to the point where Older Mikey took Older Donnie's corpse back to the base for a proper burial while Older Leo tried to pry you off the very very dead Krang.

Older Leo ended up having to sedate you just to get you off the Krangs' corpse.

When you woke, you were in Med Bay. You frantically looked around for Older Donnie, much to your dismay, he wasn't there.

You couldn't speak. How could you? Your love, your don, your tech genius, had died right in front of you.

You saw Older Leo talking to you, but you couldn't focus.

Oh no...

Everything was fading away, as if you were underwater.

Older Leo knew this was bad. He knew this would stay with you forever. He was regretting his decision to bring you here.

Between him and Older Mikey, they decided it was best to take you back home.

You couldn't feel anything.

Yet, you could feel everything.

It's as if you were still soaked in his blood, oh, wait, you were.

Suddenly, you were in the lair. You don't know when you went from standing to on your knees, still staring at your hands.

Oh no.

And that's when your brain started to play tricks on you.

You could still feel him, see the huge hole in his stomach.

And that's when you let go. You just couldn't take this anymore.

And the scream that came from you was heart shattering. It was raw and painful. And you just couldn't stop.

You were grateful when you started to see those familiar black dots in your vision.

Finally, you thought, some rest.

∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

Donnie heard that familiar orange portal open. Finally! Youre back!

However, when he went running into the common area, you were on your knees, covered in blood.

Oh no oh no oh no oh no

He was already scanning you, checking your watch, everything.

But you weren't injured, then who's blood was this?

That's when you let it out.

The blood curdling scream.

And it wouldn't stop. Donnie finally had to sedate you, you were going to scream your throat raw

He carried you to his lab, cleaned you up with a rag, and changed your clothes.

He left you laying on his bed, hoping you'd get some rest.

And now? Oh, he didn't care if that was his brother from an alternate universe. He was going to get answers.

Before Donnie could even think, he had Older Leo's neck in his hands.

All of his brothers had to restrain him just so that he'd let go.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO THEM!? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!"

∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

You slept 13 hours straight.

Donnie had started to worry that he used too much sedative.

Thankfully, you awoke from your much needed rest, nice and clean.

Looking around, you realized you were back in your Donnie's room, you were in one of his big T-shirts and sweatpants, and... Damn why did your throat hurt so much?

At first, you thought, hoped, the whole ordeal was a dream.

But as you looked on Donnie's nightstand, and saw the bloodied necklace with the 2 wedding bands, you came to the painful reality that

It wasn't a dream, and you had watched your beloved die in your arms.

Not just die,

But suffer a slow, painful, and agonizing death

All while you did nothing

Nothing but shake, sob and scream.

Then your violent acts came back to you.

How you had killed off the Krangs' short, square brother all on your own, fueled by pure rage.

The door creaked. And you could make out your Donnie form in the door.

"How're you, my love? Are you feeling well rested? Nothing hurts right? I've brought hot tea for your throat, dearest"

"he-hey Donnie" ouch- you winced, your throat hurt, and your voice was cracked, like a teenage boy

"sh sh sh, my apologies, I shouldn't have asked questions, you shouldn't speak, your throat is very irritated."

Donnie quietly helped you drink your tea, and once you were finished, he massaged your back, shoulders, legs, and arms.

It was a nice moment, yet you couldn't help but think.

How were you going to keep living your dandy, happy life, knowing a version of your beloved, had died so horribly, and in your arms?

∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°♡∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

Wait what? 2 chapters in one day? Yey ^^

[your-favorite-god]

Vita nostra aeterna pt 1

Wednesday's child is full of woe, ep 1

I’m not sure whose twisted idea it was to put hundreds of adolescents in underfunded schools run by people whose dreams were crushed years ago… but I admire the sadism. 

A monochromatic girl walked the halls of a seemingly normal high school, walking swiftly when she turned and pulled open a locker. Out falls her younger brother, Pugsley.

 “ I want names.”

‘I don't know who they were, honest! It happened so fast…”, the boy panics. He didn't want to witness the outcome of whatever his sister did. 

“Pugsley, emotion equals weakness. Pull yourself together.” As her brother continued to squirm and whimper Wednesday tried to start a sentence but was rudely interrupted. Images of what had happened before, her head thrown back as she saw the horrid jocks jeering at her little brother while they tormented him. “Wednesday?”

I’m not about to confess to my brother that I’ve recently been plagued by visions. They come on without warning and feel like electroshock therapy, but without the satisfying afterburn. 

“Leave this to me”,  Wednesday says as she promptly walks away. “Wednesday? What are you gonna do?” Pugsley questions, now free from his restraints. 

“What I do best.”

Endears POV:

“Wednesday, you know I always love your company. But is now the time? I was just about to tell Christina what happened at that gathering her precious Jonathan attended before class started”

She stares at me with a bag of piranhas in hand,” Cara, do you still have the peroxyacetic acid you made?” I look at her with a raised brow, “Of course I do, why?”. “Those fools hog-tied Pugsley and shoved him in his locker. I intend to teach them a lesson.” 

I can see how this might be confusing for you, allow me to briefly explain. Wednesday Addams is what most would call my best friend. 

Soulmate.

Shush ma morelle, anyways, we met a decade ago in the woods. She intruded upon my home and I found her very cute. So I decided to stay with her, my adorable little human. I came with her to her home and have continued to live with her family. I've even joined her in this boring little hovel named school. Or Should I say schools, we’ve been to many. Wednesday has this horrible habit of getting caught. 

It’s more satisfying to watch the looks on my victims' faces. 

As you can see, Wednesday has no appreciation for subtlety. But we’re just getting to the fun part, so let us get back to it. 

“Well then, allow me to raise you a better idea. Thallium in the principal's coffee. I’d prefer to avoid life on the run for now.” Wednesday pauses for a second, then looks at me with her version of loving eyes. “Brilliant mi vida, as always.” 

And off we went.

Non, Je ne regrette rien - Edith Piaf | Wednesday Soundtrack | Wednesday drops piranhas in the pool

We had stepped through the doors of the practice room as I heard the jocks mutter to themselves, 

“ Yo Dalton look, pigsleys sister and her weird ass friend. Hey, freaks! This is a closed practice!” 

Wednesday leveled them with her usual murderous stare as she spoke,” The only person that gets to torture my brother is me.” 

Nothing delighted me more than the fear on everyone's faces as she dropped the bag of piranhas into the pool, blood seeping into the normally crystal-blue chlorine-filled water. And that is how we landed ourselves here. In the Addams family car with Wednesday's parents, Morticia and Gomez. They were singing In Dreams as they doted on one another, Wednesday was brooding next to me. Unsatisfied with being shipped away to her parents' former school. “Darling, how long do you intend on giving us the cold shoulder?” Morticia spoke as Gomez continued to kiss her arm and neck. 

“Lurch, please remind my parents that I’m no longer speaking to them,” Wednesday replies, making me grin. I love it when she's like this, all petulant and ruffled, most of the time it means I’ll get to play around while she's busy thinking and sulking.  Her mother hums as her father tries to persuade his daughter,” I promise you, my little viper, you will love Nevermore. Won’t she, Tish?”  “Of course. It’s the perfect school for her. For them both really.” This irks Wednesday as she replies, “ Why? Because it was the perfect school for you? I have no interest in following in your footsteps. Becoming captain of the fencing team, Queen of the dark prom, president of the seance society.” Morticia looks at Wednesday with a serene face, always ever so calm and poised. “I merely meant that finally, you will be among peers who understand you. Maybe you’ll even make some friends.” Gomez looks at Wednesday with his signature grin,” Nevermore is like no other boarding school. It’s a magical place. It’s where I met your mother.” “and we fell in love.” They look at each other with this mutually infatuated gaze and sigh. Wednesday's eyes darken, if that's possible,” You guys are making me nauseous. And not in a good way.” They looked at her again” Darling, we aren’t the ones who got you expelled. That boy’s family was going to file attempted murder charges. How would that have looked on your record?” Wednesday looked off as her eyes widened slightly,” terrible. Everyone would know I failed to get the job done.” At that I couldn't keep it in, I chuckled as the little family smirked at me. Save for Wednesday of course who was still very occupied with her brooding. 

My my, this was going to be a fun new adventure. I can feel it. 

As we drove through the strong… iron… gates of this new school, morticia made mention od the weather. An admirable attempt at small talk through the thick silence, normally i would be the one to break it but wednesday specifically told me to give her parents the cold shoulder. If I’m being honest i dont entirely understand why but she looked so cutr and annoyed when she asked in her own way. How did she word it again? Oh yes, i was to be silent or else she would lock me in a tower and take all my jewelry. And my tongue. 

3rd POV

Finally the small family unit had made it to the principals office, greeted by Larissa weems.

“Wednesday is certainly a unique name, i'm guessing it was the day you were born?” she spoke with a grin, after everyone had taken their appropriate seat. Save of course for endeara, she preferred to stand. Tall in her red bottom pumps and silk blouse, she had taken her place behind wednesday, gazing at her new principle with a veiled look of boredom and small smile.

“I was born on friday the 13th.” wednesday quickly rectified, as morticia followed, “Her name comes from a line from my favorite nursery rhyme, Wednesdays child is full of woe.” 

“You always had a unique perspective on the world morticia, did your mother tell you we used to be roomates?” Principle weems said  fondly, her welcoming facade staying strong through the addam’s penetrating gazes. 

“And you graduated with your sanity intact? Impressive.” wednesday spoke again. The topic quickly changed as the principle spoke of her and endearas “interesting educational journey.” 

“Eight schools in five years?” Weems questioned,” They havent built one strong enough to hold us. I’m sure this one wont be any different.” wednesday replied with her same bluntness.  Endeara simply smiled as her parents bristled and were about to reply,” Thats just wednesdays way of trying to say she is very excited for this new opportunity. As am i, and thank you for giving us such a gift.” their new principle seemed to fully take in endeara then, all elegance and playful smiles as she dressed in her small red bottomed pumps and silk black blouse. 

“Nevermore doesn’t usually accept students mid-term, but given their perfect grades and your family’s long history with the school, I’ve spoken with the board and we’ve made an exception.” Weems said simply as the addams parents joined hands in satisfaction, “what about their um,... therapy sessions? The court ordered them.” morticia eyed her daughter as she spoke, hesitant to ask. “The school school has a relationship with a therapist in jericho, she can meet twice a week.” they all looked to wednesday as gomez spoke,” did you hear that my little storm cloud? Youre in excellent hands.” 

“We’ll see if she survives the first session” wednesday quipped back, her gaze unwavering to the woman in front of her as mortica and endeara grinned at her as well. 

The principle resumed again, unbothered. Truly impressing endeara as she spoke again,” ive assigned wednesday to her mothers old dorm. Ophelia hall.” morticia gasps and chuckles excitedly as wednesday turns to her and says,” refresh my memory. Ophelia’s the one who kills herself after being driven mad by her family, correct?” morticia nods happily as the principle leans forward with a plastered grin 

“Shall we go meet your new roommate?’

Endearas POV

We go to wednesdays new dorm and its… something. The family is stunned as morticia speaks,” its so… vivid.” The girl, the new roommate, looks at me and gasps excitedly “Howdy roomie!” and i have to bite my lips from cackling. I mean this is just beautiful, but our principle steals all the fun and introduces wednesday. “wednesday , this is enid sinclair.” Enid looks to from me to wednesday confused, maybe even disappointed, as she asks,” are you okay? You look a little pale.” and mortica smiles as she explains,”wednesday always looks half dead.” “its genetic” i whisper, smiling at the girl. Enid goes in for a hug from wednesday as we both step back, she looks disheartened as she mumbles,” not a hugger. Got it.” morticia pipes up again,”please excuse wednesday. She’s allergic to color.” enid looks shocked,” oh wow. What happens to you?”

“I break out in hives and then the flesh peels from my bones.” this is when our principle speaks again,” luckily weve special ordered your and endears new uniforms. Enid, please take them to the registrar’s office to pick it up along with her schedule, and give them a tour along the way.”

I whisper quietly to Wednesday, ”If they dare put me in cheap, scratchy, suffocating material…i will raze this school to the ground.” Wednesday almost smirks as the Addams look at me in pride and the other two look at me in horror. This tour better be good. 

[lonelychicago]

tagged by the lovelies @wikiangela @jamespearce9-1-1 @daffi-990 @gayedmundodiaz 🩷

here's some more of the tbosas au <333

He remembers during the first Games, Eddie was in his Abuela's lap, watching the TV with some kind of twisted fascination and fear and his Abuela brushing his hair and shushing him, telling him it wasn't real. Telling him it was like a movie— like one of those old things that used to exist before Panem, when their lands were called 'North America' and they would put make believe stories on the TV. (Eddie might have been a kid but he wasn't stupid. A part of him knew that his Avuela was probably trying to shelter him from the worst, but at the time he didn't grasp what she was trying to protect him from. Death had been a strange, surreal concept.)

During the second Hunger Games, despite the viewing being mandatory, Adriana grabbed him by the arm on one hand and Sophia on the other and basically pushed them inside her room, locking the room behind her. They played checkers and Adriana read them stories for days, refusing to let them leave until the games were over.

When Eddie turned eleven, he locked himself with Adriana and Sophia in Adriana's room but u like Sophia, he couldn't hide behind blissful ignorance anymore. He knew what was going on now on every TV screen and why it was happening. That's when the guilt started to consume him from inside out. When Eddie stopped being a kid, figuratively speaking, and became another pawn in his dad's games. By the fourth hunger games, Eddie started what he cañls the memory journal. He writes down every tribute that dies in the games— Vita Chigwell (Her brother was the victor of the second games), Ash Heathgwell, Amaryllis Jones, Ayzalea Gonzalez, Moss Bates, Fayalie Washington, Barley Everdeen (She was from District 12, just twelve years old and had died in the most violent way. Eddie thinks about her all the time, about the life she could've had if the Games didn't exist), Bracken Perez, Darius Langwell (He had been from district one, the same age as Eddie at the time and it hit him hard how if one thing had been different, Eddie could have as well been in his place— that night he didn't sleep a blink), America Valley, and so many more. Over 140 kids. Every single name, written down in Eddie's scrawny and messy handwriting along with a small detail he managed to find out about them. He forces himself to memorize them, to burn their names on his brain so their deaths mean something, anything.

Adriana found out what he was doing and even got a few small pictures of every tribute, helped Eddie glued them on the hournla next to every name.

He wonders if they'll have to do the same for Evan Buckley this year.

tagging (no pressure): @buddierights @monsterrae1 @hoodie-buck @eddiebabygirldiaz @exhuastedpigeon @maygrantgf @hippolotamus @rainbow-nerdss @giddyupbuck @the-likesofus @spaceprincessem @spotsandsocks @wildlife4life @athenagranted @evanbegins @kingbuckley @malewifediaz @jeeyuns @housewifebuck @911-on-abc @honestlydarkprincess @bigfootsmom @devirnis @buckaroosheart

[dracocheesecake]

Wondla Theory: Infected Redimus

Redimus is asymptomatic of the Vitae Virus- or it infected him at some point, but he somehow "recovered" and so didn't get the cool powers Eva did- but he was still mutated, to a far lesser extent.

How so?- Let's see:

Redimus is far more empathetic than most of his people, to the point that he cannot kill prey for sport like the rest of his kind. Even Rovender and Antiquus find that somewhat shocking behavior for a Dorcean, and it's not too far out to assume that other races might find the idea shocking as well:

In fact, Redimus was so empathetic towards his prey that his own father labeled him as a disgrace and an embarrassment to the entirety of their people:

Judging from this text, I don't think Reddie's dad was just entirely exaggerating: Redimus actively paused to consider the motivations of this extremely dangerous animal he was supposed to kill- instead of callously doing what needed to be done- and that moment of empathy cost his eye, but he doesn't even seem to be bitter about it. He understood that it was just trying to survive. We can assume that this wasn't the only time that he hesitated to act in such a manner.

He even considered his brother a monster for killing for sport, and himself even worse for what he did in the menagerie- Besteel (and maybe any other Dorcean) would have felt no such shame or horror- but Redimus did, and sought forgiveness for his actions.

There's even a few hints that Redimus has some of the ability- the "feeling really hard" that Eva described. Look here:

"Oooh but those are just his naturally sharp Dorcean senses!"

Is that so? We know Dorceans can sense heat, that they have a good sense of smell, maybe even sharp hearing- but not that sharp. Now, this could be a bit of a reach- but Redimus is able to sense things others cannot- he can read people and animals well.

...Maybe something about Eva felt familiar to him?

Besteel may not have felt it just because he was wild and reckless...or maybe because he didn't have the ability to. He would have been more careful, otherwise (but then again, this is the same guy who somehow nabbed a giant sandsniper, who did a bunch of other stupid stuff just to have a chance at getting Eva, so who knows?).

And here's another kicker:

Concept art of Eva Nine:

"Leaf symbol of peace tattooed on forehead"

...Look at Redimus' forehead:

Where did Redimus say he grew up?

"The forest north of Lake Concors. The woods there are wild and untamed, full of beasts unlike any you will ever see."

You mean like the Heart of the Forest? Full of strange, new beings no one can imagine?!! Because of the Vitae Virus generator mutating everything?!!

Alright, again, that part could be a bit of a stretch, because it's not that north of Lake Concors, but this is the Wandering Forest, and this is just a fun theory so bear with me a bit: obviously because of The Mother they weren't born/raised there, there- but probably close enough to it to matter. Close enough to it for it to have some sort of effect, for the virus to spread.

Perhaps even to infect a young Dorcean? If it could somewhat infect Eva Nine when she was still an embryo, is it all that improbable to believe that the virus has infected much of the water supply throughout the forest? Or maybe it was even being carried by some of those creatures that Redimus' family were hunting and eating. Redimus, for whatever reason, was just more susceptible- but not enough for it to change him in a major way. He hasn't been "purified", but only partially mutated- enough for him to have a heaping helping of empathy.

And that's my crack theory that I came up with with only a scrap of supporting evidence to stretch paper thin over an expansive imagination.

Mind you I've barely read the books yet so bare with me a bit.

[mitamicah]

I would like to ask for your guidance as someone with a degree in Joker Out!

Of course I know about our boys, but I don't know anything about the people surrounding them, like Kiki. Could you enlighten me, maybe?

Hi there - I can try my best but disclaimer out of the way, I don't know a lot either :'D (so if anybody else have something to add or if I have misunderstood/made an error somewhere please let me know :'D)

Okay so as far as I know these are (some of) the people around Joker Out

Kristjan aka Kiki is a stage person (I believe?) - good friend of the band and seems very funny and nice to hang around with. (fun fact: he gave me a setlist in Malmö :3)

Sergej is another recognisable stage person - he often sits by the side controlling the sound/lights if I am not mistaken? Bigger guy with buzz cut- seems pretty nice as well ^V^

Vita Orehek is a friend and photographer of the band - often seen touring with the boys as one of if not single lady (if the videos is something to go by) more fun facts: At Ruisrock Vita would interview us in the crowd about our feelings towards Sta Bih Ja - I didn't get interviewed but my friend did (I was too busy trying my best getting over my hate of sparkling water so to actually drink the water Vita had brought me to help me from fainting).

Mark Pirc is another photographer closely connected to Joker Out - he is the one filming most of Joker Out's music videos and the docomentaries Carpe Diem and Welcome to Backstage. You can find little clips of people saying 'hi Mark' in said documentaries which I find quite adorable :3

Dean Grainger is yet another photographer that is often taking pictures of the boys. He has been following the boys around for about a year (posted a series of anniversary posts on IG recently)

Maks is Kris' younger brother and helped as a stage person for a little while (he is now off to college if I remember correctly). He looks more like his mother than Kris does.

Karlo Kirri is a designer that makes most of Joker Out's stage outfits using traditional slovenian embroidery. Really cool, really awesome! Love the pride the guys have in their heritage like this!!

Yeah that was my very brief and probably very chaotic guide xD hopefully it is helpful and that I didn't make too many mistakes :'D

[eresia-catara]

wait so I'm new here...why exactly did Guido and Dante have a fight?

oh anon, why indeed?? why??

Seriously though, we don't know! We have some remaining poems that suggest an argument together with the political events of the 1290s, but the reason behind it is usually attributed to poetical, political or philosophical reasons. I will explain under the cut!

Simply put, the story goes this way: Guido was a knight, a nobleman, his family was one of the richest inside of Florence. Dante was eh...let's say burgeois? He wasn't filthy rich like Guido but he got by better than most, in fact Dante's father had been a moneylender and the family owned some lands which were managed by Francesco, Dante's brother; furthermore, Dante dedicated himself to poetry and philosophy meaning he was rich enough to not have to work. In the 1280s, thanks to a poem, he befriended Guido, who was also considered the best poet inside of Florence, which, as a consequence, introduced him into the circles of intellectuals and noblemen. Basically, Dante felt he was more noble than burgeois. These years were the period of harmony and happiness between the two and, presumably, between their poetical beliefs.

What happened in the 1290s though? Beatrice Portinari, Dante's muse, dies (if we want to believe she existed, as there are debates on this topic too). This causes a radical change in Dante's way of writing poetry. The proof of this is his libello, Vita Nova, in which he re-interprets some chosen poems of his into a mystical, catholic, new key. Paradoxically, it was dedicated to Guido, who was close to (if not fully) atheist, or at least he was surely not a regular catholic if we consider that a poet (forgive me but right now I cannot remember for the life of me the name) advised readers to do the sign of the cross before reading his poems. Now, now, you will say 'okay but where's the fight?' the fight is in Donna me prega and I' vegno il giorno a te infinite volte, by Guido, and in Dante approving of new political reforms that prohibited noblemen from participating in politics, becoming prior in june 1300 and exiling Guido thus bringing him to his death in august. It's a lot, but the key to it all is here.

Going in order, Donna me prega expresses the exact. opposite. beliefs. of Vita Nova. It's a long, intricate, extremely refined and complex philosophical poem that, if closely analyzed, will bring you to the conclusion that this man does not believe in the immortality of the soul, does not believe in God, does not believe love to be a positive force (and I would add the observation that, with a catholic view, God=Love). So, this is a first point of possible attrition, but one could say 'maybe they had different views but were still friends'. True. However, let us go further.

I' vegno il giorno a te infinite volte. This poem is addressed directly to Dante, as suggests the rhyme scheme of ABBA ABBA CDE EDC which he always used when writing to him. This poem has been interpreted in many different ways, but one thing is sure, the composition is reprimanding Dante of some kind of vileness. THIS. IS. IT. what is he talking about? What did Dante do? What did he not do, maybe? Is it vileness due to unacceptable beliefs? Unacceptable political decisions? Unacceptable behaviour Something completely different of which we have no record whatsoever? Something completely personal?

This brings us to a final observation regarding Dante's life after Guido, which seems to at least confirm that there was something unresolved between the two at the time of Guido's death. Dante's works become haunted by Guido's presence, whether it be through a direct quotation, a subtle wink to the reader, or worse and more importantly, through the desperate attempt to not have him weaved inside the fabric of his works. I am not trying to psychoanalyse a man who died 703 years ago, but really if a thought keeps occuring in your mind, it is a sign that it needs to be listened, and Dante spent the rest of his life avoiding that. I have said this before, somewhere, but I'll say it again: no one reaches the age of 56 and is still this troubled by a friend (ex-friend?) who died 21 years ago.

I will leave to you, anon, the duty to decide for yourself what the answer to all of this is. I hope it was clear enough! At any rate, it's always a pleasure to ramble on about these two :') (also my followers by now know everything about them so it's refreshing to have a new victi- ahem, a new audience :))

[askrobouteguilliman40k]

An ancient recorder seems to have made it into your mailbox. On the metal surface is a bleeding heart that’s been crudely painted on. There’s a note on torn parchment that’s been taped onto the device, It plays: “Have mercy on me, O Emperor,

Forgive me for my transgressions. From my blood flows the vitae of Sanguinius, yet it has been wasted.

Forgive me, O Emperor, that my faith was lacking. So many of my brothers lie dead

Forgive me, O Emperor, for I come to you in my darkest hour.”

On the note: “I am concerned about the Reclusiarch. He does not tell me why, but from what little I can glean from him tells me that hes turned to faith to mend his broken spirit.”

“I hope you can give me some counsel as to how i should approach him about this. Brother-Taharaen has seen a lot, and I fear the cracks in his spirit run far deeper than he would like to admit.He was one of the few survivors of our penitent crusade.”

All the best.

(That’s all I can think of right now sorry. Hopefully I’ll can draw upon more inspiration tomorrow.)

He looks at it.

"The Lamenters..... Such loyal, long suffering sons.... From their penitent crusade? I thought all recordings where lost, along with most of the chapter?"

[spinningwebsandtales]

Vita Nova Epilogue

Orm Marius X FemReader

Rating: T

Warnings: Suggestive themes but pure fluff

Word Count: 850

Part 1: here

(A/N:) Vita Nova was supposed to be just one part but a little domestic fluff seemed to be on the menu as this idea wouldn't leave me alone. So just enjoy this little extra that goes along with the first part! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Time had passed after that fateful day on the beach and now you had an ex-king of Atlantis living with you. That encounter had turned your life upside down, in a way that you would have never dreamed. And now that you got to wake up every day by the man that had once only existed for you in books and daydreams, life was more hectic but filled with special moments. The kiss you both had shared on the beach only opened a world you never before experienced. Orm was a perfect gentleman and helped around the house. He had lots of things to learn and you found the patience to help him through all those moments of confusion.

Like the time you had to explain to him that restaurants didn't serve cockroaches as a side or entree. Or the fact that most people weren't interested in conversing about the mating cycles of fish. But he was perfect in his own way. Now as you both lounged on the couch watching a movie it didn't take long before you were beginning to nod off. Orm focused upon the screen, found himself stroking your back and running his fingers through your hair. You slipped further into the lull of sleep as he worked wonders to relax you. It wasn't until the credits started rolling did Orm notice that you had fallen asleep on his chest. Your head resting against his warm skin while your hands tangled in his hair.

He watched you for a few moments, shallow breaths passing between your parted plush lips, before he began to trace your features with a soft finger. You stirred just a little before settling back down. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, Orm contemplated trying to get up without waking you and carrying you to the bedroom. But he didn't want to chance disturbing you, so he eased the remote from the table beside the couch and turned the TV off before wrapping you up tightly in his arms and fell asleep with you moments later.

You didn't wake until the morning, when the sun peeking through the curtains haloed Orm in golden light, causing his light hair to glow and paint his features in beautiful light. You stared, breathless, as he slept. Orm knew that you loved him, but deep down it scared you that he didn't realize just how much of a hold he had on you. But if you asked Orm, he loves you just as much if not more. As a prince and king, everything was handed to him on a silver platter. If he wanted it, others would obtain it for him, he never had a chance to find something he wanted. So that day on the beach had been the first time he really fought for something he truly wanted. He thought he wanted to be king but when he saw the potential in his older brother, after the hate had drained away, any wants of the crown and throne melted away.

Lost in thought you didn't shake yourself from them until Orm grumbled in his sleep. Sheepishly you realized the position you were in, still pressed against him, one leg resting between his legs, while you held tightly to his waist. He didn't seem to mind as he gave you a sleepy grin.

"Sleep well," he asked stretching a little but trying not to buck you off.

"Like the dead," you teased causing him to raise an eyebrow. "It's an expression. How about you?"

"Also like a carcass," Orm replied and you laughed. He seemed confused at first, until he too began to laugh along.

"Not exactly the right expression but good enough." You untangled yourself from him. "How about some breakfast?"

"Only if I can help you cook."

"The last time I let you help me cook, you almost burned our kitchen down," you retorted, hands on your hips.

"I'll be more careful this time," Orm promised while kissing your cheek. He always knew the best way to make you melt and give in.

"Fine but you're only on egg cracking duty and anything else that doesn't involve fire," you relented.

"Deal." Orm watched you walk away, his heart swelling in joy as he finally felt like he had found the place he belonged. Though no part of him was from this world, he could finally see what his brother and mother saw in the people on the surface. All it took was a moment to see one human woman on a single beach out of thousands. He couldn't help but think fate had a hand in this meeting. He breathed deep, glad to have such clarity before he followed you into the kitchen. You were already grabbing everything you both would need to cook. You smiled at him, stealing the air from his lungs. This life was one he would never tire of as he started to crack eggs into a bowl. His world didn't involve Atlantis, though it created him, his world was you. And he couldn't think of anything better than that.

[queenmarytudor]

Mary I's Fight For The Throne

28th June 1553 - Mary deceives the Duke

Now Mary has decided to push her claim to the throne and contact her friends for help, she enacts the first step of her plan. Claiming she intends "to change her residence for the summer" 1, she leaves her household at Beaulieu and relocates to Hunsdon, closer to London.

This move not only gives her quicker access to news from court, but it also gives the appearance of her being oblivious to the plot against her. On the 15th June, Imperial ambassador Jehan Scheyfve reported "It is thought the Princess may also be summoned with the pretext of a visit to her brother" 2 and Mary appears to go with this rumour, as Northumberland writes later "we rather did think it likely that her grace would have come to see his majesty." 3

It is at Hunsdon Robert Wingfield, a man who later joined Mary at Framlingham, claims Mary "very shrewdly got wind of the aristocratic conspiracy aimed at her destruction, and being secretly informed by those most loyal to her of how near her brother was to his end, she took counsel for herself as wisely as she could."4

She successfully "made all her preparations in secret, and succeeded in lulling the Duke to such good effect that he really believed her to be so good and simple that he would be able to seize her person whenever he might care to do so." 5

As one can see by contemporary documents, Mary had at least some idea of a plot against her, later stating to the Council "we are not ignorant of your consultations and provisions forcible, there with assembled and prepared – by whom and to what end God and you know, and nature can but fear some evil." 6

Meanwhile...

On the 26th June at 9pm, the Duke of Northumberland visits the French ambassador. 7

King Edward shows himself at a window at Greenwich, "where many saw him, but so thin and wasted that all men said he was doomed." 8

Sources:

1. Spanish State Papers, 20th July 1553

2. Spanish State Papers, 15th June 1553

3. A Collection of State Papers Relating to Affairs In the Reigns of King Henry VIII, King Edward VI, Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth From the year 1542 to 1570

4. Vita Mariae Angliae Reginae of Robert Wingfield

5. Spanish State Papers, 20th July 1553

6. The Reign of Mary I, Robert Tittler

7. Spanish State Papers, 27th June 1553

8. Spanish State Papers, 4th July 1553

[josefavomjaaga]

Are there multiple versions or confusion over how Napoleon Bonaparte and Josephine de Beauharnais first met each other? Is Eugène de Beauharnais the only who told the story about them first meeting because of his request for his late father's saber (or sword)?

Oh no, there's actually (at least) four French sources for this and two in English - it's just not clear to me in how far they depend on each other.

I've written a bit about it and cited the most important different versions verbally here.

In short: The oldest mention I could find is in a British source, in Warden's "Letters written on board HMS Northumberland" of 1816.

Then we have Napoleon's own account in Las Cases' original "Memorial" script, that was seized by the British, and the somewhat changed version that Las Cases rewrote back in Europe and that was published in 1823.

Also in 1823, one year before his death, Eugène put down his version of what had happened.

In addition, there is O'Meara's book of 1822 (I think) that has Napoleon tell a similar version as in Warden's book, and then the versions in Hortense's and in Lavalette's respective memoirs that I translated in the post I linked to above.

While it looks like a well-documented and thus corroborated story, I assume for historians it's actually not that easy 😊. Because when you look a little closer, you'll find that the first three sources all go back to one and the same story told by Napoleon on Saint Helena. And as these accounts were published, and as Napoleon's family probably read everything related to the First Empire, it is very likely that the three other people who wrote about this event, Eugène, Hortense and Lavalette, had read them and could adapt their own stories accordingly.

As a matter of fact, we can confirm that Eugène knew about what Las Cases was going to write because he met with him. And we know that he had knowledge of Warden's book even before an official French translation appeared, because among his papers there are several booklets with a handwritten translation into French. Obviously he had somebody translate it for him as soon as the book came out. - Hortense, as to her, surely had read her brother's memoir fragment at some point (because she takes an anecdote from it for her own memoirs) and she also was in contact with Las Cases as on her request he changed an expression in a comment Napoleon made about her. Finally, Lavalette stayed first with Eugène, then with Hortense during his exile from France.

Sorry for detailing this at such length. I must admit that I find the way these different memoirs were created and speculations about their interdependece almost more interesting than finding out what actually happened. I feel like everybody was trying to control the narrative. I'm still not over Joseph sending documents - including a highly polished curriculum vitae - to Belliard (who had not even asked for any) all the way from America just in case Belliard would publish his memoirs.

In any case, thanks for the Ask!, once again! 💝