#st sebastian and st sebastian adjacent

[artthatremindsmeofhannibalnbc]

Danylo Movchan, Saint Sebastian Painting, 2018 Watercolor on Paper

https://www.saatchiart.com/movchan

[ardazek]

Basilica of St. Sebastian

(CC List and download link are below)

Hello simmers

For my conversion of Willowcreek I made a baroque church.

I used TOOL mod intensively to create all the baroque elements.

I created multiple aedecules for shrines and also confessional boxes.

Adjacent buildings will be a library and a rental apartment. Those will have some extensions to create patio and bell towers for this church. so stay tuned :)

Early Acces on Patreon

until 08/01/2024

CC LIST

all CC's of @felixandresims

all CC's of @thejim07

all CC's of @pierisim

all CC's of @itskingfalcon

Dessus porte of @themarblemortal

Get to Church Stuff pack of @pandorasimbox

Shrine set and Baroque Alter set of @artyssims

[peasantexchangeprogram]

helloo since we're on the topic: top historical fiction (or adjacent) ? can be any time period I just really love your taste in shows/games/etc and am always on the lookout for history inspired media !

thank you!!! im rly glad im like. inspiring other ppl to engage w things im insane abt hudofajsdfdassfsad. anyways. i will probably expand that list bc i literally forgot every single thing i ever read. also i havent watched that many movies so far

ancient times: i havent really watched a lot of movies/series set in ancient times so far :(

rome HBO (2005-2007) (tv series) - OF COURSE. i personally think its one of the best series ever made. they combine political, miliatry history with the lives of every day people in an incredible way. they never let you once engage with the series through modern lenses. according to my teacher (a historian, archeologist & self described 'romaphile') its incredibly historically accurate, mostly the clothing, set designs, characterization, military practices, etc. except for the things they straight up made up, of course.

i really enjoyed gladiator (2000), i think its a masterpiece.

prince of egypt (1998) i guess?

all the asterix movies of course, all the animated ones and most of the live actions. but i wouldnt really call it historical fiction

ok i havent actually finished watching it for now but sebastiane (1976) - an erotic, x rated, gay interpretation of the martyrdom of st sebastian. its in latin also.

wait i cant believe i forgor about assassin's creed odyssey - so far the only one ive played. its so fun and incredibly immersive visually. especially pour moi who cries into the pillow about how ill never experience the ancient world. also you can b a faggot which is always fun. i have things to say about their portrayal of same-sex sexuality and slavery in classical greece but i get why they did that considering its supposed to like. appeal to a lot of people, and a more "historically accurate" portrayal (for example of pederasty or how common slavery was etc.) would b v difficult for a lot of their target audience. alas.

medieval and early modern era:

the name of the rose (1986) - my medieval history teacher literally showed us bits of this movie to teach us about monasteries and monks fhdosiasdjasd.

the borgias (2011-2013) - incredibly messy, lots of political intrigue, and so so fun to watch. about the history of the borgia family. filled to the brim with drama.

the three musketeers (1993) - my favorite adaptation, also coincidentally the one i grew up on. casting tim curry as richelieu was genius. he slays so hard.

i also like bbc's the musketeers (2014-2016) - a neat little series. very fun and entertaining to watch.

outlaw king (2018) - like i dont think most ppl heard of this movie. its about robert the bruce's fight to reclaim the throne of scotland. starring chris pine

vikings (2013-2020) - its fun. i havent watched the entire series tho. dont expect anything resembling historical accuracy

the northman (2022) - you will see something resembling historical accuracy

mihai viteazul (michael the brave) (1971) - a fun movie. very much romanian propaganda tho.

1670 (2023-) - such a fun series!!! incredible cast, shows respect to the actual history and the lives of historical people. really cute and funny.

caravaggio (1986) - a biopic about caravaggio.

wait i also forgor about pentiment - an intriguing, immersive, and incredibly beautiful video game! it has a lot of 'the name of the rose' vibes, with it being a medieval murder mystery taking place in a monastery. its incredibly touching and made me cry, and in the last few years i very rarely cry. also im 99% sure its an indie game? go support the creators!

vaguely-medieval/early modern fantasy:

mirror mirror (2012) - a retelling of snow white. a very fun movie imo, with incredible costume design. julia roberts plays the evil queen and she SLAYS. armie hammer is unfortunately in that movie.

stardust (2007) - one of my fave movies growing up. more modern-inspired but still.

the green knight (2021) - controversial i know but i actually loved this movie! i liked it both as a standalone movie but moreso as a 21st century adaptation to sir gawain and the green knight.

galavant (2015-2016) - !!!!!!! one of the most series ever! they manage to tackle such difficult concepts and conversations with a hilarious wit. so fun to watch. i listen to a lot of the songs still, and rewatch every once in a while.

disenchantment (2018-2023) - very fun to watch, especially the first season.

i also really liked the novel uprooted by naomi novik. its a polish-inspired fantasy.

modern era:

killers of the flower moon (2023) - of course. a masterpiece

aferim! (2015) - a romanian movie set in 19th century wallachia, about two officers, a father and son, who were sent by a nobleman to retrieve an escaped enslaved romani man. a lot of the people in the comments were calling the movie humorous and funny, maybe im missing smth (as im watching with subtitles n dont understand the original language) but it was a very difficult watch for me??

the handmaiden (2016) - need i say more

black sails (2014-2017) - a prequel to the famous novel 'treasure island'. not an easy series to watch. incredibly good.

the favourite (2018) - need i say more pt 2

the rabbi's cat (le chat du rabbin) (2011) - animated movie set in early 20th century algeria. a rabbi's cat learns to talk overnight.

the nice guys (2016) - a fun murder mystery set in the 1970s

o brother, where art thou (2000) - a retelling of the odyssey set in the southern us in the 1930s

victor/victoria (1982) - set in early 20th century paris. julie andrews pretends to be a man and takes on a job as a drag queen. extremely fun, extremely gay movie.

lady chatterley's lover (2022) - very much porn for moms but it was a nice watch imo

amulet (2020) - set in like. idk. sometime in the 20th century. this is a horror movie, deals a lot with misogyny, sa, and so on. i really like it, personally. a lot of people, mostly weird men, dont tho.

the great (2020-2023) - i have mixed feelings about this show. on the one hand, its really fun to watch. on the other hand, its basically ofmd for girls who have public mental breakdowns whenever someone claims corsets were oppressive. and theyre so weird about russians, jesus christ.

disses:

domina (2021-) - i just couldnt get into it, esp since i tried right after finishing rome hbo. it was kind of silly, and not in a good way. takes itself wayyyy to seriously.

i didnt like spartacus (2010-2013) - the dialogue was almost grotesque and the editing, especially the transitions, straight up killed me

damsel (2024) - holy fuck what a trainwreck of a movie. absolute waste of angela basset and robin wright. the only good thing were the costumes.

lancelot du lac (1974) - i just didnt like it at all. couldnt get into it. i guess it was way too french and artsy fartsy for me. a movie that was trying to say both too little and too much at the same time.

i didnt rly like bram stoker's dracula (1992) - i mean. it was a fine movie. it was definitely not the godfather. the movie itself was meh. the visuals tho? absolutely stunning

[chalkrevelations]

So, I'm just going to say it: Bible does not look hot in those Elle shots. He looks like a cry for help and like he needs about three months off, doing nothing but resting.

Given some of his other recent material, I was wondering when heroin chic was going to be back in fashion, but I guess Elle's going to go the victim of violence route instead. Maybe the full spread will provide some context that makes their supposed "Rocky" vibe plausible (doubtful), but I'm not seeing that kind of energy in what we've seen so far. This shoot isn't a guy who's got back up no matter how many times he was hit. This is a guy who's been dragged up by a goon on either side, so somebody else could take another swing at him. They've also missed - or avoided, depending on intention - the St Sebastian style eroticization often given to brutalized male bodies, because desaturated grimdark might be edgy, but it's antithetical to the surface beauty that shines against the surrounding brutality and creates the implicit conflict necessary for that vibe. This is the flat grey of a dreary winter day. Or a mugshot. Or depression.

Needless to say - or maybe not so needless - this shoot is also in questionable taste, given developments Bible's been adjacent to in recent months, and I ... am avoiding thinking about what kind of insinuations Elle might be playing around with, like a 4-year-old with a loaded gun. I also have to wonder how potentially triggering some of these photos of Bible looking like an ad for a domestic violence hotline might be for some people.

I would be extremely interested to know the extent of Bible's input on this concept, if any. But honestly, if I wanted to see him looking miserable and beaten down, I could just look at that candid of him sleeping in the van he posted recently to IG, looking like he'd been dragged out of a swamp. That wasn't hot, either, and I certainly don't need it glossy between the pages of a magazine in an attempt to flog fashion.

I'm not immune to the appeal of Bible playing sadboy hours. I'm certainly not immune to the appeal of him looking roughed-up, given my reaction to the Unique spread back in the day. This isn't that. It's either a poorly thought-out, badly designed, uncreative, badly lit shoot on what barely qualifies as a set that wastes Bible's talent and would have been deadass boring if they hadn't gone for shock value - and he deserves better than those kinds of cheap tricks. Or, if I give it the extreme benefit of the doubt, because not all fashion shoots are actually about looking attractive and some are pretentious enough to have a Vision, it's trying to say something (with varying levels of success) - something very different from "look how hot I am in these cool clothes."

In neither case is it hot.

[wedonthaveawhile]

The Serpents Hold // Chapter Three

Summary: When Sebastian turns to dark magic to cure his sister, Nova and Ominis find themselves reluctantly thrust into a partnership to aid him. Amid the disapproval of Ominis' family, Nova wrestles with her growing feelings for him and also with the nagging suspicion that Ominis knows more about Anne's condition than he's letting on.

AO3 // Masterlist

Nova gathered the fabric of her sleeve around her frozen fingers to stave off the cold. October nights had descended on the Scottish Highlands, and the warming charms woven into the castle walls were evidently neglected at this late hour.

A puff of mist escaped her lips, dissipating as quickly as it formed, though not without drawing irritated tutting from the portraits gracing the walls.

"Disillusionment charm," a handsome knight sneered, "how infantile."

She assumed herself undetectable to their synthetic eyes, but they stalked her every move. Her paranoid steps accelerated through the darkness until she collided headlong with an invisible barrier.

"If you do that one more fucking time…," she hissed, shoving the obstruction aside as she navigated around it.

An ornamental table creaked beneath Sebastian's weight as he steadied himself, giggling. "Your vulgar language is going to get us caught."

The crack of a door colliding with a wall as it flung open had panic shooting up Nova's spine. The oblivious Gryffindor prefect crossed the hallway infront of them and slipped into an adjacent corridor.

Nova released her breath via a relieved sigh, while Sebastian's was a scoff.

"Prick. Let's get moving."

Nova's rage towards her dormmates' actions had subsided into more of a simmering frustration in the recesses of her mind. It had been replaced by a mounting fear as she moved towards violating one of Hogwarts' most fundamental rules.

"Sebastian, maybe this isn't the best idea. I don't think getting myself expelled is the revenge I'm aiming for.

"I've been caught several times, and I'm still here; you'll be fine."

"I don't think I want to escalate things any further."

"Ominis isn't always going to be around to save the day. You need to protect yourself."

Sebastian's steps began to fade as he marched ahead to cut off the conversation. Nova had pieced together enough context clues to label him a troublemaker. Still, his relentless pursuit of this book started churning up a growing sense of unease.

"Why are you so insistent on this? Why do you need this spell," she asked, hastening her pace to match his.

"I don't need it. The spell is for your benefit. It's just connected to the magic I'm searching for."

"Well, what are you searching for?"

His heavy exhalation scattered into the air. "I need to find something to help my sister. Her illness is more than just a bout of sickness, and everyone else has given up."

"Have you taken her to St Mungo's?"

"She was admitted to the fourth floor for a time, but they discharged her when they couldn't identify the curse."

"Curse?" She peered over the railings to ensure the hall below them was devoid of wandering faculty, "Who would curse a student?"

"We don't know. Someone was practising magic in the castle ruins near Feldcroft, and Anne wandered too close. She had a thing for sneaking out at night; she loved exploring." His voice dropped to a whisper as they began to descend the staircase. "All she remembers is hearing someone tell her children should be seen and not heard, and then she passed out. I found her the next morning."

Nova felt a flicker of solidarity. His activities may be dubious, but his intentions were pure. If there were a cure stashed away in the restricted section to save her father, she'd storm in without hesitation.

"Talk me through the plan," Sebastian's voice cut through her tangled thoughts, "It might help settle your nerves."

"We camp out in the library until Scribner conjures her keys." She began, "You make some Sebastian noises; draw her away."

"Correct. I'm excellent at those."

"I'll use her keys to open the desk drawer, grab the restricted section key, and unlock the gate—"

"Wrong." Sebastian interrupted, "Don't forget to lock the draw behind you."

"I won't forget to lock the drawer behind me," she shot back, casting an agitated glance toward where she assumed his face was.

"You just did. Walk me through the plan again. Properly."

Nova recited the plan another four times before they reached the library's entrance, deliberately omitting a crucial step each time to irritate him. It took him until the third recital to realise it was intentional.

Sebastian played Scribner like a fiddle, his flawless execution leading Nova to the threshold of the restricted section. She traced a finger through the thick dust coating the bannister. Apparently, not even the house elves were permitted down here. She stilled near the black abyss at the stairwell's base, where ambiguous voices whispered in the dark—a chorus of lonely mumbles from hidden portraits.

Intensified by her fear of the dark, Nova's heartbeat thundered in her ears with such force that she failed to detect the soft footsteps drawing nearer.

"You can drop the disillusionment now," Sebastian's voice startled her. "This way."

Sebastian guided Nova through the passages with dim lumos, shadows contorting across the worn stone walls like fingers clawing at the edges of her vision.

"I hate how quiet it is down here," Nova murmured as her eyes fell upon what could only be described as a shrivelled Grindylow mounted at the centre of an ornate table.

"So, talk about something," Sebastian responded vaguely, perusing the contents of a bowed shelf. His fingertip traced along the spines before he carefully selected a handful and dumped them unceremoniously onto a desk.

Nova thumped her fingernails along the expansive row of leather-bound books, "Why did we have to lie to Ominis?"

"He doesn't understand this type of magic," he shrugged, crumpling a useless scrap parchment into a tight ball.

"He just saved me from humiliation. It didn't feel right to immediately turn around and lie to his face."

"Don't beat yourself up over it. His actions were probably fuelled by his own grievances than anything to do with you. Alice used to torture him when they were kids."

Nova halted her scrutiny of the grotesque tapestries, "Oh, please don't tell me they're related."

"You didn't hear this from me, but it's way worse than that," he said, tearing his eyes from the scattered papers on the desk to meet hers. "They're betrothed."

"You fucking WHAT?"

The wad of paper clenched in his fist was promptly hurled at her face, "Keep your voice down."

"You can't drop a bomb like that when we're supposed to be keeping quiet!" she hissed. "Fucking betrothed? Are you kidding me?"

"It's normal for families like his. They're obsessed with keeping their bloodline pure, so they pair their kids with other purebloods to guarantee it." With a huff of frustration, Sebastian pushed the useless pile of manuscripts to the floor and began to descend the staircase leading deeper into the library. "The Gaunt's are the highest commodity: The main ingredient in making little heirs of Slytherin."

Nova followed obediently, "They can't keep it within those… sacred families though, that's... I mean, eventually, they'll all be related."

"Why do you think Ominis was born blind?"

Nova felt her dinner churn in her stomach. Ominis' rejection of muggle prejudice was rare among purebloods, but given his background, it made sense. Why these families believed they were superior for marrying their relatives, as opposed to those with traces of muggle blood was beyond her.

"Is Alice happy with this arrangement?

"Not particularly. She's been chasing after his brother for years—always snitching on Ominis to him…" Sebastian explained, infusing more magic into his lumos as they entered the lower chamber of the library. "But he's pretty much emancipated himself at this point, so I suppose the arrangement is null and void."

"Oh... so does he stay at Hogwarts over the holidays?" Nova asked hopefully.

"No, he's been living with me and Anne since he went no contact."

Nova's shoulders sagged with a dejected huff. She had been looking forward to a week of respite from classes until finding out it was rare for any Slytherins to remain at Hogwarts during holidays. While she enjoyed her own company, the prospect of complete isolation was just depressing.

"You should come visit us in Feldcroft next week. I'd love for you to meet Anne, and I know she'd be thrilled to meet you."

"I would love that," her expression immediately brightened. "Do you think your uncle would mind?"

"There's not much that man doesn't mind," he grumbled, sweeping away some dust from a book nestled among splintering shelves. "Ah, now this is what I'm talking about!" His face lit up as he gathered up an armful of tomes.

They hunched over the decrepit writing desk at the heart of the room. Sebastian pored over each page, occasionally shoving aside a book with a grunt before conjuring the next. Nova slumped her head on crossed arms, repeatedly on the cusp of sleep before each jarring slam of heavy manuscript shattered her peace.

She tuned in to the delicate rustle of pages and hypnotic ticks of the grandfather clock, her eyelids growing heavy. A third sound intruded and her brow furrowed as she tried to identify it.

She shot to her feet so abruptly that darkness clouded the edges of her vision.

"Hide," Sebastian commanded as the harsh clack of heels closed in.

"Where?"

A disillusionment charm wouldn't be of much use if Scribner already knew someone was down here. The tables were too small to conceal anyone, and there were no freestanding bookshelves to dive behind.

Sebastian snatched the hefty leather-bound book from the table and thrust it into Nova's arms. Her protest was choked off as he aimed the tip of his wand at her skull. It felt as though a thick liquid was oozing from his wand's tip, slithering down her face and body.

"Keep quiet," he hissed as he backed away.

Nova glanced at the book in her arms, readying to hurl it back at him, but it had vanished—her arms were gone, too. Once again, her entire body had seamlessly blended into its surroundings.

"Caught sneaking into the restricted section—again!" Madame Scribner's voice sliced through the air as she rounded the corner. Her gaze swept the room before locking onto the habitual offender. "I thought we were past this!"

Flecks of spittle sprayed from her enraged mouth as she strode toward Sebastian, whose face had contorted into a twisted scowl.

"Go to hell, Scribner."

Crimson sparks crackled from the librarian's brandished wand, and for a fleeting moment, Nova thought she might witness a murder. Instead, she seized Sebastian's sleeve and dragged him along as she stormed out of the room, "We're taking this straight to the headmaster."

Sebastian writhed, complained, and hurled profanities with such dedication that Nova thought it was obvious he was masking the presence of an accomplice. Scribner seemed too consumed by rage to notice the blatant cues.

As Sebastian was hauled out of the library and towards Black's office, Nova returned to the desk and deposited the restricted section key into Scribner's coffee mug.

Nova darted down the corridors, her heart hammering against her ribcage and barely drawing breath until she found refuge in the Slytherin common room. She discarded the charm at the top of the staircase and, releasing a shaky breath, glanced down at the book. Her momentary respite was cut short.

Secrets of the Darkest Arts

Panic lodged itself in her throat. Trespassing into the restricted section after curfew might not cause immediate expulsion, but being caught in possession of such a book certainly would be.

"Ominis?"

Nova hissed his name repeatedly, rapping her knuckles against his dormitory door. She wasn't sure if the shuffling behind it was real or a product of her thundering heartbeat. Finally, it eased open to reveal Ominis clad in linen pyjamas, the tip of his wand illuminating the dark corridor with a intermittent red hue.

"Sebastian?" he whispered, "Where have you been?"

"Ominis, it's me. I'm sorry to bother you, but can I come in?"

"Nova?" The door swung almost shut, leaving only a narrow crack for communication. "Can this wait? Where's Sebastian?"

"He's at the headmaster's office. I just need to do him a quick favour. I promise it'll be quick."

Ominis let out an irritated exhale. "One moment," he muttered before shutting the door. He reappeared shortly after, robes haphazardly draped over his body, and gestured for her to come inside. "What's happened?"

Nova's mind went blank. She lacked the finesse required to be an effective liar, but Sebastian's instructions had been clear.

Ominis can't know.

"Sebastian... he was caught breaking curfew," she explained carefully.

The bed groaned beneath Ominis' weight as he slumped on the edge and raked his fingers through his hair. "Right, how did you find out about this?

"… because I was with him."

He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation, "So, you two weren't going to Sharp for a dorm transfer?"

Nova's lips pressed into a tight line. "It... was my fault," she began. "A stupid impulse after what happened earlier. I'm just dropping something off for him, and I'll be out of your hair."

"What is it?"

Nova clutched the book with such force that the binding left indentations on her sternum. "…What?"

"What are you leaving for him?"

 "Just… some study assignments."

Ominis' eyes narrowed, his silence thick with suspicion. "You were out after curfew... to steal assignments?"

"Old ones," Nova blurted out, "Sebastian... he's going to... use them to cheat in his O.W.L.S."

Ominis slowly rose to his feet, "Sebastian consistently ranks at the top of most of his classes."

"Well... now we know why."

"Let me see," Ominis demanded, his words sounding more like a challenge than a request.

Nova's eyes flickered down, relieved to find the title wasn't embossed, which alleviated the risk of him being able to read it. "Careful, it's in a heavy binder," she cautioned as she handed it over.

Ominis withdrew his wand from his cloak pocket and swiped it across the title. The muscles in his jaw clenched as his wand turned from the decrepit leather to Nova, the threatening crimson glow distorting her vision. "You helped him get into the restricted section, didn't you?"

Shit.

"I don't want this filth anywhere near me or Sebastian," he snarled, thrusting the book at her with such force she nearly toppled over. "Take it and get out."

"I'm leaving it with Sebastian," she insisted, her nails steadily cutting into the flesh of her palms as she fisted them tighter. "You think I want anything to do with this?"

"You told me this was your idea," he pointed out, stiffening his posture as he towered over her. "So, deal with the consequences and don't even think about trying to shift the liability onto Sebastian."

A stifled gasp slipped from behind curtains, prompting Ominis to shoot two muffliato charms to halt the eavesdropping, earning irritated grumbles from both roommates.

"I'm giving you one last warning before I turn you in myself," he turned his wand towards Nova, pushing the tip against her chest. "Get out."

"We were just trying to find something to help Sebastian's sister, I didn't know it was anything dark," she withdrew her own wand and drove it against his stomach; he didn't flinch. "That, and a spell he said I could use to protect myself."

"What spell?"

"I don't know." Her palms were slick with sweat, threatening her grasp on her wand. "He just said we could find it in the restricted section."

Ominis scoffed, "In that case, you deserve expulsion for being so easily manipulated."

Nova fought back the urge to cast bombarda right into his abdomen.

"It was… if I could use it, I'd be able to control their actions," Nova stuttered, a fiery blush staining her cheeks as she struggled to articulate her words. She was immensely relieved that Ominis couldn't witness the angry tears he was coaxing from her. "Sebastian said if Alice tried to humiliate me, I could use it to retaliate or march them out the door."

Ominis' intimidating expression melted into one of shock.

Nova tried to exploit his hesitation and snatch his wand from under his vacant stare but was immobilised when his fingers clamped down on her wrist.

"How the fuck-"

"Expelliarmus," he sent her wand hurtling across the room, his grip constricting as she fought against him. "Are you talking about the Imperius Curse?"

"Let go of me," she spat, yanking her wrist from his bony grasp. "I told you, I don't know what it is."

"Are you even aware of the Unforgivable Curses?"

He was belittling her, and a seething rage began to cloud her rationale. Grinding her teeth, she marched over to Sebastian's wardrobe and flung it open.

"What do you think you're doing?" he scoffed, unimpressed with such a disastrous hiding place.

She ignored him, focused on stashing Sebastian's ill-gotten gains and distancing herself from this insufferable prick. Said prick cocked an eyebrow upon realising he was on the receiving end of the silent treatment.

"The Unforgivable Curses. They're the darkest of magic. Casting them will send you straight to Azkaban. Do you know what Azkaban is?"

"Yes, I know what Azkaban is," she spat at him. "I'm not an idiot."

"Well..." he shrugged, implying otherwise.

Her temper boiled over, and she hurled the manuscript at him. He countered her attack with infuriating ease. A casual flick of leviosa and the book was hovering effortlessly in front of him.

"Return to your dorm, and stay away from Sebastian. He doesn't need someone like you clinging to him."

He cloaked himself in the disillusionment charm and stormed out of the room, slamming the door in his wake.

An oppressive silence descended as the ringing in her ears subsided. Assuming he wouldn't return tonight, she climbed into Sebastian's bed, drew the curtains and tried to find some semblance of sleep.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

SAINT OF THE DAY (June 12)

St. Gasper Bertoni was born on 9 October 1777 in Verona, Italy. He was baptized the day after.

He belonged to an affluent family and that his family's faith-life was also quite notable.

Gasper was an only child as his baby sister passed away. He had the benefit of an excellent education, both at home and at St. Sebastian's school, which was run by Jesuits.

From the grace of his first Holy Communion at age 11, Gaspar Bertoni was called to a life of mystical union.

His vocation to the priesthood matured. At the age of 18, he entered the seminary.

In frequenting the theological course as an extern student, he found in his professor of moral theology, Fr. Nicholas Galvani, an excellent spiritual director.

He was known to have helped the sick and hurt during the invasion of French armies in 1796, the beginning of a 20-year period of upheaval during which he tended to those in need.

He took over the spiritual direction of a community founded then by St. Magdalena of Canossa at St. Joseph's Convent in May 1808.

On 4 November 1816, with two companions, he moved into a small house, adjacent to a suppressed Church that bore the title of the "Sacred Stigmata of St. Francis.

(From this, the name of his community was eventually adapted; in this small church, he also worked to spread the devotion to the Passion and the wounds of Christ).

In a very unostentatious manner, the new community opened a tuition-free school, offering this and other gratuitous services to the Church and society.

The men lived together a common life of strict observance and penance.

An intense life of contemplation was joined to a broad apostolate, including the Christian education of the youth and the formation of the clergy and missionary preaching, in perfect availability to the requests of the bishop.

Right after an ecstasy that he experienced praying before a Crucifix on 30 May 1812, he suffered a first attack of "miliary fever" that brought him to the very threshold of death.

Almost miraculously, he did recover.

However, for the rest of his 41 years of life, he remained in poor health, all this while giving a wonderful example of patience and heroic confident abandonment to God.

Even from his sick-bed, suffering indescribable discomfort, he became the "angel of counsel" for countless persons who sought him out.

He died on 12 June 1853.

He was beatified by Pope Paul VI on 1 November 1975. He was canonized by Pope John Paul II on 1 November 1989.

His Congregation of the Sacred Stigmata of Our Lord Jesus Christ, enriched by so many sufferings, gradually spread beyond Verona — to other cities in Italy, United States, Brazil (where it presently has 6 Bishops), Chile, Philippines, and to mission territories: South Africa, the Ivory Coast, Tanzania, Thailand.

[undercat-overdog]

So I’m rereading A Long-Expected Climax and I was wondering about the revenge for Celebrimbor manipulating Annatar into re-enacting torture scenes in bed part. Like he literally gets him to pretend as though they are the One Ring Sauron torturing Celebrimbor into revealing the location of the rings, as in the past? Is it some kind of weird quasi-revenge on Celebrimbor’s part or does he actually really get off on it?

I don’t think they reenact actual scenes that happened in their past, no, rather some generic “captive and dark lord” ones, neither of them playing their past selves exactly but rather a more idealized roleplay form. It also took them quite a while to get to that point and involved some very poorly negotiated scenes, including ones that Sauron stopped mid-scene because he just could not and ones that Celebrimbor tried to power through because he’d decided he wanted it and a minor panic attack is no reason to stop (I’m half-thinking of writing that - I have a bunch of Bones-adjacent smutty side-stories). But while my Celebrimbor is a masochist and gets off on both the sensations and the roleplay, he enjoys the quasi-revenge aspect a lot too. (He’s also purchased one of the sexier St Sebastian-style paintings or statues of his own martyrdom and displays it in a prominent place in their house.)

(Need more Elven roleplay generally! @i-am-a-lonely-visitor is doing great work in this area that everyone should read and there is so much potential.)

Thank you for the ask!!

[bookbaran]

Alright, if you're looking for something queer to read this pride month, here is my list of LGBT+ book recommendations:

The Masterpieces:

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

The Magic Fish by Trung Le Nguyen

(These are so good! Please read them! They are as close to perfect as it is humanly possible to get. I'm serious. If you only read one book this month, make it one of these! I promise they're not boring or depressing like a lot of books that are considered works of art.)

The Good:

Winter's Orbit by Everina Maxwell

Less by Andrew Sean Greer

Everything Leads to You by Nina LaCour

Ivy Aberdeen's Letter to the World by Ashley Herring Blake

The Mighty Heart of Sunny St James by Ashley Herring Blake

P.S. I Miss You by Jen Pedro-Roy

Liquor by Poppy Z. Brite

Gives Light by Rose Christo

The Marvels by Brian Selznick

Nimona by Noelle Stevenson

The Wonders of the Invisible World by Christopher Barzak

The Sky Blues by Robbie Couch

(These don't have the combination of artistry and perfection that make them a masterpiece, but are still very, very good and well worth your time.)

The If you Haven't Read These by Now, You Must Have Chosen Not to, but I Still Feel Compelled to Mention Them:

Red White and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

The House in the Cerulean Sea by T.J. Klune

(Yes, I already know about these. You already know about these. Almost everyone already knows about these. There's a reason for that and the reason is they're very good.)

The Just Plain Fun:

Camp by L.C. Rosen

Check, Please by Ngozi Ukazu

Lumberjanes by Noelle Stevenson et al.

Fence by C.S. Pacat

Death Prefers Blondes by Caleb Roehrig

Spellbound by Allie Therin

Any book by Cat Sebastian

The Gentle Art of Fortune Hunting by K.J. Charles

Point of Hopes by Melissa Scott and Lisa A. Barnett

The Rules and Regulations for Mediating Myths & Magic by F.T. Lukens

Not My Problem by Ciara Smyth

Super Adjacent by Crystal Cestari

(These are all just fun reads.)

The Audiobooks:

Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall, narrated by Joe Jameson

Only Mostly Devastated by Sophie Gonzales, narrated by Mark Sanderlin

The Ballad of Ami Miles by Kristy Dallas Alley, narrated by Brittni Pope

(Yes, I did create this whole section just to talk about Joe Jameson and the Boyfriend Material Audiobook. Even if you read the book and didn't care for it, you should still listen to the audiobook because wow.)

I promise all of these end happily and nothing too bad happens to any queer people because I haven't had the mental or emotional energy to deal with downer books for years now. If you have your own pride month recs, feel free to add them.

[e-b-reads]

Library readathon 2022 update: Here’s the library books I’ve finished so far this month! Some I read and have nothing in particular to say about them; some I do have little comments on, so those titles are bolded and comments are under the cut.  (Whether I had something to say doesn’t really correlate to how much I liked the book.)

Detransition, Baby, Torrey Peters

Striding Folly, Dorothy Sayers

What Angels Fear, C.S. Harris (Sebastian St. Cyr #1)

Skinwalker, Faith Hunter (Jane Yellowrock #1)

Loot, Jude Watson

The Witness for the Dead, Katherine Addison

Death Comes to the Village, Catherine Lloyd (Kurland St. Mary #1)

When Gods Die, C.S. Harris (Sebastian St. Cyr #2)

Whisper Down the Lane, Clay McLeod Chapman

Sting, Jude Watson (sequel to Loot)

OK, and some musings:

What Angels Fear, C.S. Harris (Sebastian St. Cyr #1) - was amused by the intro of the main character as, basically, “this is my detective, he can see in the dark and hear better than anyone and has yellow eyes like a wolf. also he has trauma.” but the author’s note does list a possibly plausible genetic reason for the eyes/seeing/hearing, so there’s that!

Skinwalker, Faith Hunter (Jane Yellowrock #1) - OK the weird thing is, the author’s note on the book above said that the seeing well/yellow eyes thing is also something that crops up in mixed Cherokee/Welsh populations in the US, and the main character of this book is a Cherokee skinwalker, so has preternatural abilities and yellow eyes (!). Obviously in this book the reason is magic, and I have done no other research on this connection yet, but I found it interesting!

Loot, Jude Watson - I liked that the thieves never had a moral panic over being thieves. (As far as I can tell, the only reason they consider not doing it is to avoid being caught.)  There’s enough other conflict; doing successful jewel heists is mostly just cool. And though I picked this one up randomly, I requested the sequel, so you can tell I liked it!

The Witness for the Dead, Katherine Addison - I did adore this gentle book, and look forward to the sequel! Reminded me in some ways of a Tamora Pierce, like her Terrier, possibly because of the solid plot and intense worldbuilding behind it.

Death Comes to the Village, Catherine Lloyd (Kurland St. Mary #1) - I liked this better than the other regency-era mysteries I read this month. Some slightly annoying but plausible for the setting “oh it’s because she is female”...“men are so bad at emotions”- type binary thoughts; but the MC guy (as opposed to the MC woman) is currently an “invalid,” literally not walking, b/c of the Battle of Waterloo, so he is unable to throw himself around heroically in the way other male protags of mysteries sometimes do (incl. St. Cyr, above). A nice change.  Requested the next one, we’ll see if it holds up.

Whisper Down the Lane, Clay McLeod Chapman - not a bad thriller, I just felt like everything that was supposed to be a twist was unsurprising? I think it’s reasonable that the MC/narrator is surprised, but I also think the reader is supposed to be sometimes, and I mostly wasn’t.  Could be because of reading a lot of mysteries/mystery-adjacent things and being aware of genre conventions, but idk. I usually don’t mind being able to predict twists, but this time instead of feeling like “I knew it!” (triumphant!) I felt more like “I knew it” (duh?).

[dom-bastiansmythe]

ACTIVITIES LIST FOR SEBASTIAN AND ELLIOT’S PARTY/ORGY:

Poker Table: 

Doms, Dommes and Switches: You’re invited to enjoy a range of canapés and a fully stocked complimentary bar, as you're served BELOW the table while you play. 

Submissives who wish to serve domestically or sexually, please refer to the rules, in my previous post 

Playroom Fully stocked for your pleasure: 

Sex swing, St Andrews Cross, ropes for Shibari, full range of cuffs, crops, floggers, canes and spreader bars. Variety of flavoured condoms, edible lube and massage oils. 

Extensive range of toys, including dildos, anal plugs, nipple clamps, blindfolds, electro-stimulation devices, needles and cock rings. 

Please note! My Playroom is monitored by Archer Clarington. Should any Dom, Domme or Switch require a little more privacy, there are three private rooms adjacent to my Playroom, and Archer Clarington will allocate 60 minute sessions for those wishing to take advantage. First come, first served! 

Sensory Play: 

Ice Machine and range of fragranced and unfragranced candles, feathers and ticklers, for maximum pleasure 

Fully stocked complimentary bar for everyone of legal drinking age to enjoy, including submissives. Alcoholic and non-alcoholic options available. 

Submissives who wish to tend the bar, please let Sir Sebastian know by Thursday 7th April. 

Please note; Those opting to bartend are obviously not permitted to drink alcohol while serving. 

Variety of pizzas, snacks, canapés etc and authentic French confectionery for everyone.  

While nobody will be turned away for not dressing in Bridgerton-themed costumes, peeling away all those layers is half the fun, so you're encouraged to do so!

[artthatremindsmeofhannibalnbc]

Gerard van Honthorst, Saint Sebastian, 1623 Oil on canvas

[ardazek]

St. Lucia Apartment

Hello Simmers

As my willowcreek conversion continues, I did an apartment building

This building in someways mimicks my previous build St. Stephes Library and adjacent to my St. Sebastian Basilica

The Building consists of 2 furnished apartments, 2 empty apartments, a lounge, a café, an empty store and a patio that connects directly to the basilica.

With these three buildings willowcreek has a huge building complex

EARLY ACCES ON PATREON

until 07/04/2024

CC LIST

all CC's of @felixandresims

all CC's of @thejim07

all CC's of @pierisim

all CC's of @harrie-cc

all CC's of @itskingfalcon

Intarsia set of @lilis-palace

Important note: You'll see another lot named PATIO. Turn on the deletation protection, the place the lot. Using TOOL MOD move it by (5,0) to place it. Place the apartment and turn off the deletation protection

[crimsoncityhq]

Depending on where you are in the hotel, you’ve either had a night of quickly mounting tension or a night of … relative relaxation. The blizzard still mourns outside, howling through the blanketed streets and hurling its flurries at the hotel which sways beneath your feet if you stand still for long enough. The patrons locked in their quarters can do nothing but let the rocking lull them to sleep in hopes they’ll find their ways home by daybreak. Of course, there are still plenty of winter hours to get through before the sun can peel away the darkness, and just as sleep filters in through your lashes, you hear a ‘ click. ’ Everyone around you hears it, too, and for once there’s unity in the room as the group decides as a unit to investigate. Well, save for one, who is well aware of what that click means. It comes from the bathroom, so you all venture in, and the locked door stationed by the sink swings open. Standing on the other side of the threshold—and looking just as befuddled—are your neighbors, those five in the adjacent room who look just as cold and hungry as you do. It’s a good and bad thing; you’ll have more company, more snacks to go around courtesy of the minibar and, with any luck, more friends than enemies in one place, though you still find a few idle pairs of steely eyes narrowing on you. 

In short, there’s a bright side and a not-so-bright side: each room has opened up via the bathroom to allow a bigger expanse for you and your fellow patrons to explore, though the possibility of it all leading to even more tension is too high for comfort. Still, it’s better to cozy up with nine other bodies than only four … right ? 

PART II of the Lights Out event has begun ! This part will conclude on TUESDAY, DECEMBER 8TH at 9 P.M. EST. For this part of the event, your characters’ rooms have opened, allowing muses to move between the room they’ve been assigned to and the adjacent one. 

EX: Room 1 and Room 2 are now conjoined, and any character in Room 1 can interact with any character in Room 2 and vice versa. 

As a reminder, your groups are under the cut. If you have any questions, feel free to reach out to Admin J or Admin Amy for clarification ! ( And don’t be afraid to get some good plots cookin’—now is the time for drama ! )

ROOM #1 & ROOM #2: Arlo Flores, Fletcher Hargrave, Ira Evans, Jesse Valencia, Theodore “Teddy” Cohen, Anastasia Sahin, Billie Washington, Josephine “Josie” Leon, Mathias Attano, Taron Lynch

ROOM #3 & ROOM #4: Andrea “Andy” Perez, Asli Demir, Blythe Sweetwine, Braden Kahale, Margeaux Saint Claire, Alejandra Ruiz, Armande Ivashkov, Harlow Dumas,Jackson Marston, Lev Vasile

ROOM #5 & ROOM #6: Gwen Arnolds, Hana Faust,Jean-Jacques Baptiste De Romanet, Jessika Delmonica, Oisin Donnelly, David Sharpe, Juno Song, Layla Jiminez, Nadia James, Nicola Faust, Peyton Bridges

ROOM #7 & ROOM #8: Callan Quinn, Effie Faust, Igor Vasile, Letitia “Tia” Valentine, Rosalie Halliday, Sutton James, Addison Mckinley, Anton Volkov, Aries “Rhys” Rigsby, Cecilia Cavendish, Esmeray Demir, Lucian Faust

ROOM #9 & ROOM #10: Aslyn Walsh, Catriona O'Shea, Oliver Faust, Tulsa Jane Honey, Genevieve Bisset, Lee Malkovich, Levi Bohan, Maisie Kane, Saskia Vasile, Allison Lynch-Demir

ROOM #11 & ROOM #12: Amara Ricci, Auron Wright, Christine Li, Holden Mercer, Sloan Washington, Stefano Vitorri, Edith Cohen, Ellis Rowe, Lavrenti “Lav” Vasile, Lincoln Dawson, Silas Hale

ROOM #13 & ROOM #14: Fabian Drake Kalashnyk, Carrigan Connolly, Cassidy Faust, Monika Adler, Nicholas Krieger, Erin Cerci, Lada Antonovna, Leonid “Leo” Vasile, Rahi Kumar, Zoe Washington

ROOM #15 & ROOM #16: Abel Washington, Dominika Romanov, Faith Williams, Olivia Madden, Rosalia Leon, Cassandra Conally, Atticus Mercer, Diamond Washington, Killian Walsh, Lorelai Faust, Oakley Butler

ROOM #17 & ROOM #18: Audric Noire, Mikhail Morosov, Noah Etkin, Nova Deveraux, Viktoriya Vasile, Anatalya Vasile, Darren Murphy, Julia Faust, Konstantin Vasile, Violet Madden

ROOM #19 & ROOM #20: Davut Demir, Katarina Vasile, Veronica Pierce, Vincent St James, Zane Washington, Beauregard “Beau” Griveaud, Blair Faust, Caoilainn “Callie” Walsh, Milo Arrington, Zedekiah Vasile

ROOM #21 & ROOM #22: Dante “Sebastian” Faust, Liam Walsh, Marissa Atkinson Orion Anderson, Vitomir Kipriyanov, Andrew “Drew” Whittmore, Callum James, Ivy Ivashkov, Marie-Anne Beaulieu,  Nikolai Volkov

ROOM #23 & ROOM #24: Audrey Rousseau, Barnaby Eaton, Constansia Fournier, Edie James, Birdie Mendoza, Eleanor “Elle” Eaton, Joanna “Joey” O'Shea, Katya Ivanova, Wyatt Leon, Amelia Wolfe

[seeroftodayandtomorrow]

A Musical Affair

Chapter 10

Read on AO3

It was a good thing he had asked Lady St. James for her help, Blaine decided, despite the awkwardness on his side that had persisted for a good while of their otherwise enjoyable and productive meeting. She had been moved into society so recently that she remembered all the rules, and was free-spirited enough to be willing to bend them on occasion.

"I am a married woman," she said, "that means I am an acceptable chaperone for any unmarried young lady we will want to attend. It will be respectable enough at least for anyone you might want to invite."

After a minute or so, Blaine just left the whole thing to her, merely nodding and offering the occasional remark, silently impressed by how quickly she was grasping the essence of his plan, even if he didn't have the courage to name it.

"Your—former—estate is quite close to the town Mr. and Mrs. Evans moved to. We will invite them. It will be nice to see them again."

Blaine nodded gladly. He remembered he had gotten along quite well with Mr. Evans.

"Now," Rachel continued, looking up from the notes she had made. "You will want to invite Kurt."

Blaine nodded sheepishly. Inviting Kurt—possibly spending time with Kurt, in an environment where he would feel safe—was his main objective for the house party, in addition to helping Sebastian. Not that he'd admit that.

"You will have to give him a reason to be there, except for you," Rachel said bluntly.

Blaine was hurt by that, but he knew she was right. Kurt would never leave the city, possibly missing any paid performances, just to spend time with him.

"We could make it a musical party," he suggested hesitantly. "Sebastian enjoys music as well. We could find a way for Kurt to earn some money, some way he would accept.  Maybe....we could teach Sebastian how to dance. Can Kurt...can he play the piano?"

"Not as well as you," she answered. "But if you are the dance teacher, you can't very well provide the music as well. It might suffice. We could also rehearse for a little concert we could give at the end of the week, for the local gentry and the tenants. It would serve to make the new Earl of Dalton known to them."

"We could pay him to sing," Blaine said, excited. "Well. Sebastian could." And Sebastian would. Kurt's fee would be a mere trifle to him, and Blaine knew he had more or less free hand when it meant he could accompany Sebastian to Dalton.

In the end, they wrote invitations to the most consistent of Lady St. James's guests, who they also thought could serve some purpose at Dalton.  Those were, in addition to Mr. and Mrs. Evans, whom they invited just for the pleasure of their company, Miss Pierce, who was a very good dancer, and her house guest and constant companion Miss Lopez. The two were inseparable, and Miss Lopez had a sharp tongue that fit Sebastian's. They might match or clash horribly, there was no way to tell—but Blaine decided it would do Sebastian some good to meet someone who gave as good as she got.

That, they decided, would have to suffice, as Miss Cohen-Chang's protective parents would never let her go to the country on her own, and Mr Puckerman's presence would disturb their dynamic too much.

That left Kurt. Blaine didn't quite know how to invite him, since they would make it a business thing, but Lady St. James wrote a short note, to be copied by Sebastian or his secretary, requesting Mr. Hummel's services as pianist and singer for a small house party and concert, for the fee of twenty pounds. Another invitation to Blaine himself, to show to his grandmother, and they were done for the day.

He had to count it as success, Blaine decided, that Kurt had deigned to accept sharing a carriage with him. Kurt had agreed to come to Dalton, though he had quickly deduced that the whole thing had been Blaine and Rachel's idea.  He had not been too happy about that, but Blaine thought (well, hoped, really), that it had nothing to do with Kurt not wanting to see him, but rather the fact that Kurt had Principles, with capital P, that would usually not allow him to mix business with pleasure.

Blaine's grandmother, as predicted, had been torn between not wanting Blaine to go with such disreputable company, to the estate that should have been his, and realizing that the disreputable company was too rich and important to slight. Blaine's mother had barely managed to conceal her delight with Blaine's luck in making such friends, and also her own good fortune in visiting several balls and parties on her own.

The only flaw in his current situation, Blaine thought guiltily, was that Lady St. James was to travel with them in the carriage, at least until it was time to change to the post. It was just it was so cozy in the carriage, with the curtains drawn closed, Kurt sitting across him on the bench, his long legs occasionally brushing his own. He longed to change his seat to beside Kurt, under some pretext or none, and pull him into his arms. If it wasn't for Lady St. James, they would have complete privacy for two hours at least, and after their too-long separation, that was something Blaine wished for very much.

They talked little as the carriage made its way through town to the St. James's house, and suddenly Blaine was afraid.

They had never talked about...about what they were. He had no idea what Kurt felt for him, if anything. He had no idea what Kurt wanted from him, if—his thoughts were interrupted when Kurt's long legs tangled with his. At the same moment, he realized they had passed Rachel's townhouse without stopping.

"What-" he said as he looked to Kurt and saw his grin that could be called nothing less than mischievous.

"I thought it would be nice to have some time alone," Kurt said. "So I arranged for Rachel to have urgent things to talk about with Miss Lopez and Miss Pierce."

Blaine couldn't help it then—he stumbled over to Kurt's side just as the carriage hit a hole in the road, so he landed almost in Kurt's lap. He took just the time to arrange himself a little more comfortable, and then finally, finally kissed Kurt with all the pent-up longing of the last few weeks.

He had no idea how much time had passed or where they were on their journey when they finally stopped kissing. At some point, he had loosened Kurt's cravat in order to have better access to his neck, and Kurt had pushed his hands under Blaine's shirt to clutch at the naked skin of his back, so his shirt was pulled partway out of his breeches.

Kurt pulled away from him. "No more of that," he said. "I'd like to get myself back together before we stop for lunch and to change to the post. It must be time for that soon."

Blaine nodded reluctantly and tried to dress as best he could in the close confinements of the carriage. His shirt was crumpled, he found, but fortunately, nobody expected of travelers to look impeccable, and Sebastian was sure to loan him a valet. He snuck a glance at Kurt and was surprised to see him smiling at him.

"You now," Kurt said, "I cannot approve of your scheming to get me to come to Dalton with you....but I'm glad you did."

"In my defense, you are really there to do a job. We all are, more or less. But—I won't deny a big part of the idea was to get to be with you, where we'll be safe."

"Safe? It will be such a small group, much harder to hide -"

"Sebastian—Lord Dalton—he's like us. In that regard. He's very open about it. I had to teach him about caution."

"You taught someone about caution."

"Well, it's not like I dragged to somewhere into an alley. I can be cautious. Anyway, he—he won't mind. And he won't tell. Well, and Lady St. James knows anyway, so that only leaves the others, and the servants. But if, for example, our rooms where adjacent which I'm sure I could arrange..."

"You are even more deviant than I expected." It sounded like a rebuke, but Kurt was smiling.  "So if, say, you were to visit me in my room for a nightcap, and then happened to...stay a little longer than planned...."

"As long as I took care to be back in my own bed before sunrise, nobody would be the wiser."

They looked at each other and smiled, but in a few moments, Blaine was serious again. "We can have this, Kurt. Will you let us have it?"

Before Kurt could answer, the carriage came to a halt, and a look out of the little window proved it was time to them to break for lunch, and afterwards change to the post.

Lunch was simple fare, and there was no opportunity to continue talking, because shortly after them, the ladies arrived and sat with them. Afterwards, in the post, all of them squeezed together in the carriage to avoid having to sit with strangers. They did have a good time, but for Blaine at least, the unique pleasure this journey had brought was over for now. Still, he did have a smile fixed on his face that came from the knowledge that Kurt wanted to be with him.

When they finally arrived at Dalton, they were as tired and malcontent as any traveler, but their short ride to the house in a carriage sent by Sebastian that was much better sprung than the post, and the prospect of a good dinner soon made them smile again. Although, if Blaine was honest, he was especially looking forward to that point some time after dinner, when everyone would retire. That point might not come until late—even in the country, Sebastian would probably not keep country hours—but however late it would be, and even if they were too tired for anything else, he would sleep in Kurt's arms tonight.

It was strange, standing in front of the house he had loved so much as a child, with the knowledge it was not his anymore and would never be his again. For a moment, he had the distinct feeling he should be the one welcoming his guests – but then he looked at the guests and again, relished the freedom he would never have as an earl. A short moment of awkwardness arose when the butler opened the door and it was his own butler. He remembered Sebastian saying he had not replaced any of the staff—but somehow, he had not thought so far as to realize that would mean he knew them all.

"Figgins," he said, still startled, and the butler allowed himself a rare smile.

"Master Blaine. Mr. Anderson, I mean. Please come in. His lordship awaits you."

Sebastian, when he arrived a moment later, was at his most correct, Blaine felt. His smile was more stiff than welcoming, his posture so upright it seemed unnatural, his speech stilted. Blaine hoped dearly that that would change, or else his first house party would go down in history as the most dull affair ever given.

Fortunately, there was Miss Pierce. In her unique way, she asked Sebastian a lot of questions that were intrusive, but asked too innocently to be considered offensive. Sebastian was bemused at first, but by the time they were called to dinner, he had given up any attempt at formality. When, over dessert, he and Miss Lopez began insulting each other with enthusiasm, Blaine felt one of the things he'd have to teach Sebastian was to find a middle ground.

First, though, there was another thing he had to talk about. As soon as the ladies retreated after dinner and Kurt went to the restroom, he approached Sebastian to ask him for adjacent rooms for himself and Kurt. Sebastian, however, started talking first. "Well, what delightful people you have brought me, brother. Especially that Mr. Hummel. He is very attractive, if a bit taciturn. But to be honest, it's not conversation I want from him."

[grandhotelabyss]

Where the corporations fail literature, little magazines and small presses will emerge to fill in the gaps. Things may start to look a bit like they did one hundred years ago, and the time will be ripe for another aesthetic revolution.

Christian Lorentzen, “Literature”

(Is this true? My impression is that modernism’s small presses and little magazines were founded by eccentric independently wealthy people who had an actual interest in the arts for their own sake. I am not a sociologist of literature, though, so my cursory scan of Margaret Anderson’s and James Laughlin’s Wikipedia pages could be inadequate to the task. The “little” magazines and “small” presses that came later—see Juliana Spahr’s Du Bois’s Telegram for details—were and are funded by universities and/or by foundations that are often little better than intelligence cutouts. So the level of true independence is not going to be the same as it was in the days of Joyce and Stein.

Which leads me to a question: what are eccentric rich people doing with their money these days that they can’t throw me a few crumbs? Not that I am experimental in the requisite sense—this is the other problem with the dream of the modernist revival. Lorentzen rightly complains about Netflix-ready corporate-monopoly realist novels, but all the most strenuous gestures for resisting the realist novel—most of them born with the realist novel in the 18th century or even before—have hardened into a body of convention as rigid as such realism itself. Oh, your novel set inside the unraveling consciousness of a man without a memory wandering a nameless country that vaguely resembles Franco’s Spain doesn’t have paragraph breaks? How utterly utter. I prefer in my own fiction to present a surface you could almost think at first was conventional realism—not only do I use paragraph breaks, but I even notate dialogue with quotation marks—and then slowly unveil to you that you are in a dream or a nightmare, as fiction indeed should be, but not in a literal-minded way. Dreams and nightmares work because no matter how strange they get they feel real. 

Two stray comments on the rest of the piece, for which please click.

First—pedantry alert!—but Lorentzen oddly doesn’t mention the most famous early-20th-century novel to have been touched by the 1918-19 flu pandemic, Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway, in which eponymous Clarissa’s heart was “affected, they said, by influenza,” presumably four to five years before the narrative proper, which mirrors her cross-gender, cross-class day-double Septimus Warren Smith’s traumatic time in the trenches.

Second, I enjoyed the suggestive remarks about how much of “online” to incorporate into fiction. [What’s the point? To repeat my thesis, “online” will probably be gone in some number of centuries or even decades, so we had better get onto paper whatever we want to remember. I still have a comic book I drew on loose-leaf paper when I was seven; I don’t have my college essays, which are on some floppy disk somewhere, maybe in a dump, that no machine in my possession could access even if I had them, and only about half of my 2002-2006 livejournal still lives on archive.org., not that these are items of any value.] I don’t recommend imitation—Tweeted novels and the like. We can’t reproduce the suspense of doomscrolling in fiction, because the lure of the feed is precisely that it refers to reality. Direct competition with new media never works—Updike writing “cinematically” in the present tense now seems forced and silly and generally at odds with what was valuable in his sensibility—though neither does paranoia about not being influenced by new media, as if fiction had to be punitively interior or linguistically self-involved to avoid being too flashy or fun. As long as we’re doing something interesting with language or structure, our books will probably not be wholly reducible to TV or Twitter. And if our fiction is at least realist-adjacent, as in set in the present, it’s enough to write directly about characters’ interactions with the online world and how it affects their lives offline. This changes the content, but a change in content is a change in form: now we have a different kind of narrative interest. 

For example, if you’ll indulge me, in my Quarantine of St. Sebastian House, the nameless narrator meets one of his neighbors for the first time, and she alludes by way of consolation to the relatively recent death of his mother, which she’d learned about by googling him before she knocked on his door. Later, another neighbor discloses that whatever she’d found out about the mother’s death on a local newspaper’s website was a planted official cover story concealing a much more nightmarish set of facts. This second neighbor discovered these facts almost by accident through chatter on 4chan about a secret video, intolerable to watch, that surfaces briefly from time to time on various sites before being quickly removed. In other words, what used to be a fictional character’s interior secrets are now exteriorized and discoverable by a dogged enough sleuth. Characters are built not on the old model of social facades concealing hidden depths; now they are—and experience one another as—layers upon layers of searchable data that less conceal than embody some mysterious, unreachable inner core paradoxically distributed over the network. The online world has pulled us inside out like a glove. In showing us this, fiction remains itself—usually at its best when investigating character, which it does better than rival art forms older and younger—but changed from what it was by new technology, alive to its time.)

[crazyfreckledginger]

Leonardo Da Vinci x Reader x Comte De St Germain - “Between Old Friends” [Part 1]

After someone tried to kill the Comte, and his old friend gets in the crossfire as well, you thoroughly worry them during their painfully slow recovery. When you understand that Rouge isn’t helping enough and there is a chance the attempted murderer comes back to finish the job, you take the matter into your own hands, and you’re not taking no for an answer.

A/N: This wasn’t requested but I started writing it when I didn’t have internet connection to know what my requests were, sorry to anyone who requested anything, I’m trying to get to it!

Warning: poison, can come out as violence? Don’t take the title literally, take it literally in the second one ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 

“How long do we have to be here?” (Y/N) murmured, gazing around the hall.

“I don’t know.” Vincent voiced.

“Are you complaining Hondje?” Theo’s sharp gaze landed on you.

“I know I don’t usually, but this dress and these heels aren’t comfortable at all.” A sigh escaped her lips before their conversation was interrupted by le Comte.

“Come dance with me, mon amour,” he smiled, shifting beside her.

“Huh? Oh, no no, that’s okay you don’t need to-”

“I insist,” he interjected, arm sliding around her waist and the other grasped her fingertips lightly before she was whisked off to the middle of the room.

(Y/N) shot Theo a pleading look, who only smirked back at her in amusement.

Cruel sadist.

“You seem troubled,” the man spoke, dipping closer to her face as he guided her movements.

“It’s nothing, really,” she blushed from the proximity.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” His serious look never left hers. It melted her heart how much he cared.

“It’s just my outfit isn’t the most comfortable.” Her eyes glanced down to her shoes, which were digging into the soft skin of her ankles.

“Oh,” he stopped dancing immediately, carefully guiding her to the adjacent room before scooping her in his arms and placing her on a seat, “then please rest, I’ll come to get you when it’s time for dinner.” Kneeling down St Germain slipped her feet out her shoes and placed them beside the furniture.

“Thank you,” she gave him a grateful smile.

He headed out.

“Tired of the commotion hmm?” The voice broke the silence, nearly making her jump out of her seat.

He reached to turn on the lamp and smirked at her.

“N-not as tired as you, I’m sure,” she breathed out when distinguishing Leonardo leaning back in the chair. The vampire chuckled.

“Let me see where it hurts,” he stood up, walking to the end of the chaise long and watching as she tilted her ankle to the side, displaying the slightly bloody and damaged skin.

His fingers trailed up her foot before nudging himself closer, pulling her foot to his lips and kissing around the bruised tissue.

Her cheeks flushed aggressively as he licked the still slightly fresh wound, pecking it once it was clean.

His eyes were slightly darker than before as he licked his lips, her cheeks hadn’t changed colour in the slightest.

“My my, making a move on (Y/N) I see,” a british accent teased. The pair turned around and Arthur chuckled.

“What?” Leonardo grumbled.

“Everyone is getting seated.” He patiently waited as (Y/N) sat up, delicately slipping back in her shoes before standing up. Awkwardly, she followed Conan Doyle to her chair, between him and Theo as Da Vinci went to his place beside le Comte.

The host, who was placed beside latter, poked his glass with a spoon to get everyone’s attention. All heads turned to him and on queue, he stood up, grasping his glass and starting to voice his speech. It was decently long, despite it being rather interesting, before she knew it, they were already ready to toast. Glasses hitting each other told her that it was time to drink. Le Comte and Leonardo gulped the beverage down and, as the girl was ready to take a sip, screams tore tore through the hall. The two friends, along with a number of other people, cough viciously and spat blood.

“H-huh?” The woman’s eyes widened in horror.

“Don’t drink that!” Arthur slapped the glass out of her hand and it broke upon contact with the floor. He grasped her wrist and pulled her against his chest in protection.

The Van Gogh brothers raced towards their fellow vampires to check how they were.

****

It had been just over a week since the incident and despite their slow recovery, (Y/N) was nowhere near less worried about them.

“That face doesn’t look good on you, cara mia,” he cupped her cheek.

“Well get used to it because until you are both completely healthy, it’s going to stay like this!” She slapped his hand away and glared half affectionately at him.

“We can walk just fine,” le Comte interjected.

“Yes but you have to go easy on stomachs and throats, which is why I’m babysitting you.”

“You can at least make it sound like you enjoy it,” the inventor chuckled at her.

“We can take care of ourselves,” the pureblood agreed.

“And that is exactly why I’m taking care of you, I’ll be right back with some more Rouge.”

“Thank you, my darling.” The pureblood smiled, sitting at his desk.

The girl slowly closed the door behind her and scurried to the kitchen.

Pulling the tray out of it’s cupboard, she delicately gripped the two flasks of rouge and placed them beside two clean glasses.

“Oh, Sebastian, I didn’t see you there.” She jumped, thankful that her voice didn’t waver so much, the girl was only slowly getting used to a whole household of vampires sneaking up on her when they required anything, especially coffee.

He didn’t reply.

“What’s wrong?” She inquired.

“Nothing, I’m just trying to find a solution to something.”

Her eyebrows knitted together, it wasn’t like him to be so vague.

“Tell me, I might help.” (Y/N) turned towards him.

“Rouge isn’t speeding their recovery fast enough. Whoever poisoned them will only try to go back at it as soon as word gets out that the poison didn’t kill them.”

“Which means Leonardo and Comte need to heal faster so they’ll be able to resist if a threat arises.” She concluded. The butler only nodded. That’s why the both of them seemed so tense lately, they knew that the attempted murder would weaken them enough – if it didn’t kill them – to higher the chances of finishing off the job.

Briskly, she turned on her heels and headed for the Comte’s office.

When the woman returned without the tray of rouge, the pureblood frowned.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She stood her ground in front of his desk, Leonardo sitting on a couch on her left.

“Because I know what you would do.”

“What?”

“Worry.” Da Vinci answered for him.

“I want you to drink my blood instead of the Rouge.”

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