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endless-ineffabilities · 1 year

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MORE MARQUIS MOREEEEEEE I LOOOOOOVED IT, L - O - V - E - D ITTT!!!!!!!

le marquis et le moineau - (ill)fated

Marquis de Gramont x f!reader

synopsis: one of several short stories, set up as a prequel to this oneshot of le marquis et le moineau. This is set in the early days, depicting the beginning of what would turn into a dangerous mutual infatuation.

more of moineau: le marquis et le moineau ▪︎ first dance ▪︎ other works

word count: 2.5k ▪︎ themes/warnings: slow burn, mentions of violence (it's the John Wick universe ofc), language

"Welcome to the New York Continental. How may I be of service?" Charon asks in his flawless genial manner.

You stand behind him, his shadow in training. After only 3 short months as the 'Assistant to the Concierge' - (a title you picked over 'Assistant Concierge', in reference to a certain beloved TV series) - you've come to learn the ins and outs of the Continental.

What makes it tick. The demands of its peculiar crowd of usual guests. What is required to keep such an establishment up and running.

In truth, it takes a lot of fucking work. Much and more need to be swept under the rug so as to not attract attention. Guests need to be kept satisfied, their particular requests adhered to. As long as it is well within the rules of the High Table, of course.

The only thing separating you from the animals.

As if everyone in this sort of life has not already become animal. Well, isn't ignorance such bliss.

The man who introduced himself as Chidi says, "I have come ahead of my superior, the Marquis de Gramont. Needless to say, we must ensure that everything is well-prepared for his stay here in New York. Wouldn't you agree, Charon?"

"Of course, sir." Charon tilts his head. "I will personally see to that, don't you worry. Is he still set to arrive tonight at the planned hour?"

"He should be here at 6 this evening. I trust that the... agitator is being dealt with?"

Charon walks in front of the counter, taking a parcel from a bellhop. He keeps his gaze trained on Chidi. "With compliments of the Continental, sir. The proprietor has ensured that the liability will be brought to the penthouse of the Marquis."

"Very good." Chidi taps Charon on the shoulder once, before walking away, a satisfied sneer on his face.

"Just remember, sir," Charon calls out to him, making his stop in his tracks, "that no business may be conducted on Continental grounds."

"Hmm."

After a moment, you move to stand beside Charon.

"So, sir, what was that all about?"

He turns his head towards you fondly. "I'm sure you've heard of Marquis Vincent de Gramont."

"Well, I've heard that he comes across as a pompous ass, if that's what you mean."

Charon simply raises his eyebrows at you, already accustomed to your blunt, sarcastic manner of speaking. "Well, he will be staying with us for a couple of days, as he has some... business to deal with."

"I won't even ask."

He moves to stand in front of you, finding your eyes. "Dear child, might I suggest steering clear of the Marquis and his associates whilst he is in residence with us here? It would simply be for the best. His reputation does preceed him."

You can't help but smile at Charon's nickname for you, one that heralds back to when your family first moved across the hall from him in one of the High Table sponsored apartment buildings in downtown Manhattan.

You had been only 12, but you were already well aware of your father's line of work. One that required him to be away on business to faraway cities each month, and caused him to rub elbows with the dregs of the underworld.

Not all of them were bad though. You grew fond of some of his associates, namely Charon, of course. And the one they called the Baba Yaga, but to you he was just Johnny.

John Wick hated the name, but he liked you, so the name stayed. Him and his then wife somehow became your second set of parents, with your dad never around and your mother usually drowning in her fancy liquor.

More than a decade later, your father met his end on one of his jobs. One that was only supposed to be "quick and easy". He promised he would be back to you in no time, with a box of your favourite chocolates from Paris.

But he never came. And neither did the fucking chocolates, which truthfully, you now hated. Your father lost his life in that city, so you grew to loathe everything about it.

And now comes the Marquis, the man practically in charge of all of Paris. Not to the public eye, of course.

If Charon asks you to steer clear of him, it must be for good reason.

But you've never been good at following orders. Or staying out of trouble. Or keeping your mouth shut.

"Whoever this Marquis is, I can handle him," you say determinedly. "I'll just act normal, do my job, go about business as usual."

Charon takes a deep breath, resigning himself. "Very well. Just try not to catch his eye." A tenant raises her hand, demanding his attention, so he starts to head her way.

"You know me," you call after him, an impish grin on your face. "I'm only a shadow."

The Marquis de Gramont stands in the ornate lobby of the Continental, surrounded by his posse. Clad in an impeccable three-piece cream suit, his hair perfectly coiffed, his polished shoes gleaming to the naked eye.

He is never beating those pompous ass allegations. You can't help but smirk from your post behind the concierge desk.

You look down briefly, smoothing out invisible creases on your black button-up shirt. Don't laugh. You roll out your shoulders. Compose yourself.

Winston and Charon had greeted his entourage upon entering, and they've been hashing out the details of his stay for the last minute or two. Apparently, the Marquis has some very specific demands. Of course he does.

Those in the group exchange some final words, nodding to each other, seemingly satisfied. Charon raises his arm, directing the Marquis. "Right this way, if you please."

Hands on his hips, the Marquis makes his way over to the private elevator. Which only means that he will have to pass by your post.

You try to keep your head down, as a practiced sign of cordiality. Also, so that you don't let out an impromptu sneer. But you can't help it. Right when he passes by, you raise your head.

And he is already looking straight at you.

The corner of his lips is in a downturn, as if he is judging you where you stand. Pompous prick.

You don't let it faze you. "Welcome to the Continental. We hope you enjoy your stay," you greet him, eyes not leaving his in some sort of defiance.

"Hmm." He walks by, slowly, and you only want to urge him on. But just when he is clear of the reception desk, he turns on his heel.

"What is your name?" He asks, a perfect brow raised in anticipation.

You answer him, keeping your voice steady. You've learned a long time ago not to allow men like him the chance to intimidate you.

A momentary pause, before he repeats your name. You want to hate the way he says it, as if he testing it on his tongue, seeing how it tastes.

But hell, that French accent can make anything sound heavenly.

"Is there a problem, monsieur?" Charon has moved to your side, wary of the attention from the marquis.

Marquis de Gramont barely acknowledges Charon with a sideways glance, before looking back to you. "Non, no problem at all."

He finally walks away. But of course, of course he has to drive a chill up your spine as he calls over his shoulder, "Have her come up to me in twenty minutes."

You grit your teeth in an attempt to maintain cordiality. "Excuse me, sir?" He could have at least addressed me himself.

Nothing. He doesn't even look back at you as he enters the elevator, head dipped in hushed whispers to his security team.

"So much for your being 'only a shadow', hmm?" Charon echoes your sentiment, which has just been apparently disproven.

Winston draws closer, worried look on his face as he says, "Quite a conundrum, dear one. I'm considering sending someone else in your place, however, he did ask for you markedly."

Your stomach churned. "Maybe he just needs some attending? Room service? Basic cleanup? I don't know..." Basic cleanup being clearing the blood of the surfaces of his penthouse, especially after he deals with the man the establishment had caught and presented to him.

Deals with. But not kill. Never that. Not whilst on Continental grounds, that is.

Winston responds, "Perhaps so. I trust that you will handle it? I know you can, child."

You straighten yourself. "Of course I can. He's just some overgrown French brat."

But what the fuck does he want?

"If anything," Winston adds calmly, "and worst comes to worst, your dear Uncle Johnny would surely be happy to lend a hand."

Of course he will. Feeling much lighter, you shoot a smile at Charon and Winston, before returning to your post behind the desk.

18 more minutes.

The Marquis stays in the biggest penthouse of the Continental. The most exclusive part of the property, made even more opulent per his request.

New pieces of artwork are hung on the walls, requested from some New York Baron's private collection. Not that he had a choice.

The man - the traitor - known as Laurent had been staying at the Continental in the week prior, stupidly believing that he is free of the Marquis.

It only took one phone call, and of course, Winston had to relent. They kept Laurent in one of their best suites, lulling him into a false sense of security, all while preparing for the Marquis' arrival.

Then Laurent's room was filled with nitrous oxide, and he was tied up and taken to the Marquis' penthouse.

Laurent sits in a lone wooden chair, nearly unconscious in the middle of the drawing room as you enter, a gash of deep red on his temple.

Chidi sits directly in front of him, seemingly carrying out the interrogation. His superior, on the other hand, lazily sits on the plush couch on the far side of the room. Looking as if he'd rather be anywhere but here. As if there isn't a man being tortured right in front of his eyes.

One of his men announces your arrival, but you sense the Marquis has already noticed your presence.

You clear your throat. "You asked for me, sir?"

"Mmm," he hums, and tilts his head. "Tell me, what was so funny?"

"I'm sorry?"

"When you first saw me in the lobby," he stands, stalking over to you, "you smirked. I wish to know what it was that brought you to react in such a manner."

This is why he asked for me? Because I smirked? Oh, for fuck's -

He steps forward, closer. "Cat got your tongue?"

"No, sir, I... I must admit, I don't quite remember what you speak of. I smirk to myself all the time. I've got plenty of inside jokes and all that."

"To yourself?"

"Yes."

"Are you... well in the head?" He twirls his fingers beside his temple. The bastard.

"Yes, Marquis." You take a deep breath, but you can't help yourself. "But I assure you I'm just as demented as you are."

A gloom falls over his face, and you sense his security team tense up. Preparing for him to say the word.

Your eyes trail around the room, and continue, "And everyone else in this world of ours."

The Marquis stares at you. Half-indignant, and dare you think it, half-amused.

His lips twitch, fighting back a smirk of his own, and his eyes rake your figure. From your uniform shoes to your hands to your lips. Then back to your gaze.

"Fair point." He shrugs, and the room settles once again. His men look away from the pair of you.

He turns, beckoning you to follow. A few feet in front of Laurent, he asks, "What do you make of this?"

Of this? You mean of him? The way the Marquis speaks, as if Laurent is merely a thing to be dealt with and not a person, bothers you. But such is the way of your world.

"Laurent Castillon. French-Italian sommelier. If I understand correctly, he cheated you out of what would have been successful dinner plans."

Sommelier, an arms dealer. Dinner plans, whatever you can concoct with the use of guns. You're more than accustomed to the language, having picked it up over the years.

"Excellent." The Marquis clasps his hands, pleased. "Now, what do you make of this? What would you do, if you were in my shoes?"

He is testing you, prodding you on. Seeing if you would curl back in your shell or flinch.

Is there a wrong answer here, or is this all just some game?

"I would set things right, I suppose."

"You suppose?" He repeats, dissatisfied. "We don't deal in half measures."

"I would - ," you look him directly in his eyes, "I would make him pay."

Something sparks in Marquis de Gramont's eyes. Recognition? Appreciation? Excitement?

"Won't that be a waste?" He takes a step closer, eliminating the space between you.

Stand your ground.

You shrug, "Such is life."

He smiles, "Indeed, petit moineau."

In a flash, without breaking your gaze, he takes a handgun from the inner lining of his jacket and shoots Laurent in the knee. He keels over, screaming.

The familiar sound rings in your ears, making you dig your nails in the flesh of your palm.

The Marquis does not even flinch, does not even look at Laurent who is writhing on the floor in pain.

"And what now?" He rubs an eyebrow with his thumb, still holding his gun carelessly with that hand.

"That depends." What the fuck did he call me? Moineau? "How gracious do you feel tonight?"

"Why?"

"Well," you say carefully, knowing the wrong word might set him off, "you could let the fool go. You've already taught him a lesson."

A long, torturous pause. He does not seem to like that suggestion.

"Take him away." He gives a sudden order, and all his men rush to obey. Seconds pass, and Laurent is out of your sight. Only Chidi and two other men are left hovering in the corner.

"Leave us," the Marquis finally says. Well, shit.

The door shuts behind the men, and you are left alone, with one of the most notorious men in the city. Perhaps the world.

"What's going to happen to him?" You find yourself asking, to fill the silence and also because you're genuinely curious.

He looks at you in confusion, as if the answer is the most obvious thing. "He dies, of course."

You swallow, a picture of forced composure. "Of course."

He rolls his eyes. "Sure, not here on the Continental and all that nonsense. But it does not matter. He dies anyway."

He dies. He says that so easily, like a life means nothing. It probably means nothing to him. Your father would probably have only been another life to spend, just another one in the roster, in his eyes.

"I hope you aren't busy," he says, walking to the other room.

"What did you have in mind?" Why can't he just send me away already?

"We shall dine together. I could use the company."

You grumble under your breath, "So much for being a shadow."

"Pardon?" He asks, just before reaching the archway to the dining room.

"I said, it would be my pleasure."

"Hmm."

Two can play at this game, Marquis.

And even more to come - taglist open!

Next in moineau...

More Marquis, just as it should be.

My HotD series works are not going to be discontinued. The next part to fire like yours will be up next, but don't hold me to it 🖤😉

#marquis de gramont #marquis de gramont imagine #marquis de gramont x reader #marquis vincent de gramont #marquis vincent de gramont x reader #marquis vincent de gramont imagine #john wick 4 #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgard imagine #vincent de gramont #vincent de gramont x reader #vincent de gramont imagine

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choiceofgames · 26 days

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New game! “Werewolf: The Apocalypse — The Book of Hungry Names” — Unleash Rage and wield spirit to heal the land and rebuild your fallen pack

Werewolf: The Apocalypse — The Book of Hungry Names is now available on Steam, iOS, and Android!

It’s 25% off until May 2nd! Furthermore, as a special offer, if you purchase "Werewolf: The Apocalypse — The Book of Hungry Names" by 11:59pm PDT on April 26th, we'll give away the "Wardens and Furies" DLC, featuring the options to play as a member of the Black Fury tribe or the Hart Warden tribe, for free.

You and your shattered werewolf pack must save the living Earth with Rage and spirit! In this interactive novel with hundreds of choices, can you defeat a Wyrm Spirit who manifests as a lie that you want to believe?

Werewolf: The Apocalypse — The Book of Hungry Names is an interactive novel by Kyle Marquis set in the World of Darkness. It's entirely text-based—1.8 million words, without graphics or sound effects—and fueled by the vast, unstoppable power of your imagination.

Shapeshifter. Mystic. Hero. Monster. You are a werewolf, and you are all these things. Werewolves are the living earth's last guardians, created by Gaia, given the gift of shifting between human and wolf forms, and called to stop humanity from destroying the world.

But you have failed.

Three years ago, packs of werewolves worked together as a Sept in Broad Brook, Massachusetts, battling the Wyrm, the enemy of Gaia. While other Septs fell to the Wyrm or tore themselves apart with fratricidal Rage, Broad Brook thrived. Some said they would be the ones to stop the Apocalypse.

But in one night, a Wyrm Spirit called "the Answering Tiger" destroyed the Broad Brook Sept and defiled its caern. In fact, Broad Brook had never been thriving at all. The Tiger had deceived their senses, disordered their thoughts, and turned them against one another. Where the different tribes saw trust, in truth there was resentment and growing Rage. Where the different packs saw safety, there were security flaws that could be exploited. Where they saw the Wyrm, there were innocents that they massacred, before reporting to other Septs about another glorious victory.

Their cruel pride allowed the Wyrm Spirit to deceive them, and they mostly destroyed themselves. The Answering Tiger had servants, too, monstrous Banes and fomori, and even werewolves sworn to the Wyrm. But they were only there to pick off whoever was left.

Now, the Stormcat, once the Patron Spirit of the Broad Brook Sept, has called upon you to rebuild a pack from the survivors and fight back against the Answering Tiger. In the savage woods and decaying towns of New England, you will forge your own legend.

Build Your Pack. Human and werewolf survivors haunt the woods and hide in the cities: find them to learn what happened and to rebuild the werewolf nation. But not all werewolves can be trusted: shun those wolves consumed by Rage, and pity those who have lost the Wolf and become empty shells.

Survive the Wilds. A desperate exile, shunned by those of your old pack who have abandoned their oaths to Gaia, you'll have to survive by your wits. A winter night can kill as surely as any monster: find shelter, seek allies among spirits and humans, and learn how far you'll go to survive.

Unleash Your Rage. You are one of Gaia's monsters, a living weapon, herald of horror and death. Now the Apocalypse is here: wield your Rage with savage cunning and keen discretion, or it will swallow you whole.

• Play as male, female, or nonbinary; befriend or romance werewolves and humans of all genders.

• Shapeshift among five forms to slaughter your enemies, or outwit them to take what you need.

• Choose your auspice (moon-sign) and your werewolf tribe: Bone Gnawer, Child of Gaia, Glass Walker, Shadow Lord, or Silver Fang

• Claim your territory and heal the spirits there to unlock Gifts that let you summon animals, see into the past, or enter the spirit world.

Buy it now!

#choiceofgames #choice of games #interactive fiction

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twistedbloodstain · 1 year

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vincent de gramont x assistant!reader: if my wishes came true it would've been you | a glimpse of the marquis.

plot: the one where the marquis isn’t so sure about you.

warnings: stalking, slight mention of violence, more stalking, staring, soft ooc marquis, invasion of privacy

masterlist

vincent de gramont. the marquis. unforgiving. determined. capable.

he is a man that exudes power by simply waving his hand or by the snap of his fingers. he does not need anyone. not when he has all the power and influence of an entire country. all he needs is himself, no one else. people are a liability, because of what we can feel for them. the moment you let them in. you start to do things that you shouldn’t, but you do it anyway for the mercurial high of their company. but in fact they don’t bring you up, they bring you down. of course, the marquis doesn’t do such practices, he can’t risk such vulnerability, if he is vulnerable then he is weak and the world be fucking damned before he let’s what he feel for someone tear him down.

a pessimist mindset. yes but why does it matter? he can’t even name someone who cares for him, at least someone who isn’t paid to do it. they don’t want his company, they want his money and power that he exercises over this world. the men want his coin and the women want the same or a night of pleasure, he might welcome that invitation if he isn’t busy enough.

there are three kinds of people in the world. those who have something to live for, those who have something to die for, and those who have something to kill for.

“oh, oh…poor vincent de gramont. who would search for him if he went missing? who would mourn his rotting corpse as it’s buried six feet underground?”

a mockery and threat of a rising drug lord when he had refused the terms of a deal. it annoyed him, as much as he didn’t expect it to get into his head. because why would he need to have that? soon he had the fool’s tongue pulled out by one of his men, he doesn’t let such insignificant things occupy his mind. but to answer his question there is one who would.

his assistant. that’s who, mildly amused with that thought. if i paid her more than enough my procession would be like the queen of fucking england. ironically, because his assistant falls into the three kinds of people and wants his money. at least she actually works for it. for once, the wages he’d given were actually worth her value, they weigh the same in a scale and he doesn’t feel forced to pay her that much because she gets the job done with exquisiteness.

when he’d first hired her, he thought she might be too good to be true. either she was a bragging and incompetent woman or a vying fusspot whose words are truthful. he doesn’t mind a perfectionist as long as she gets the job done. however good she might portray her character to him, he was still cautious around her.

this could be a calculated spy sent out take everything from me. if so, she might as well bloody think again. no one can rob me of what’s mine.

possible threats imagined or real must be carefully and quickly dealt with. so the first two months she works for him, he keeps his eyes on her. he has her followed to her home, which isn’t so bad but not really to his taste. but since she rarely gets home to manage personal matters with the endless pile of work he’s tasked her with there’s not much to be reported to him. just the mundane life of his assistant and her cat. he also has her background checked and it’s nothing malicious, truly just someone whose motives are sincere and harmless.

but it’s not enough. there has to be something. when she isn’t in her home, she’s in his mansion. the lavish and spacious place that always seems to awe her.

2:00 AM

a pair of guards open the large decorated chunky door for him, he struts through. quite exhausted from his previous affair that took several hours, something about an assassin getting out of the fold. he checks his watch and a slight scowl appears on his face, annoyed that meeting has taken too long for a good night’s sleep. he had a big day tomorrow, hordes of meetings and an opera in the afternoon. he’ll have to get up early if he wants to witness the entire spectacle.

“bring the car tomorrow around 6 AM and move the meeting with Allaire around-” vincent orders but pauses when he realizes the click of your heels were no longer heard in his ears.

he turns around and sees you motionless. you were occupied with gazing at the new painting that had arrived earlier that morning. he could sense the gears in your head turning, taking in the artistic beauty of the masterpiece. he wonders if just like him you appreciate historic works of art that preside in The Louvre or perhaps you like a more architect approach-

christ. what is he thinking, he’s not even sure of who they are and he’s interested in a pastime she might have? he swallows that thought down and buries it behind his mind.

by the sudden snap of his fingers, he snaps you out of your gaze. you face him rattled and a slight worry occupies your face when you realize you’ve been caught slacking.

“i’m so sorry sir. that won’t happen again, what time did you want the car brought?” you immediately apologize, saving your excuses from him. still bashful from the ogling you’ve done, you don’t meet his stare.

he knows you’re just as tired as him, you’ve been stuck with him for the entire day, organizing his schedule and arranging appointments. he decides to not chastise her for the momentary indolence and let it pass. although he is partly pleased you still try to keep your wits sharp and alert. christ, what in the world is he saying? it must be the lack of sleep, yes that’s it.

“bring the car tomorrow around 6 AM and move the meeting with Allaire around 7:30 AM. lastly, get up early. i have an important matter for you to attend to.” vincent says again, much more firmly this time with a harsh tone, a slightly futile attempt since his voice partly falls flat from fatigue.

“yes sir.” you answer straight away, jotting down what he just said into that little purple notebook.

he turns away from you and walks away to his room.

he has her spied in the mansion. every movement she makes in his home is reported by the guards and staff. rather unfortunate with the latter, since you’ve grown close with some of the staff and half of them inform you of your activities. what they’d reported was not what he was looking for. just filled with casual personal stuff and ventures he’d ordered you to do.

with all that extensive efforts settled, he feels somewhat assured that she won’t turn against him. now he just needs to keep her on his side, and to sense any form of betrayal that might cook while she’s in his employ. he instructs his men to halt from following her home but still let’s the staff inform him of her bustle from time to time. how does he keep her on his side? pressure and observation.

he gives her labors that are sometimes beyond her pay grade and leaves her alone to do it. it confounds her, very much. they both know this is not what they’d agreed to but surprise, surprise. she delivers as ordered, little to no flaws. he observes her reactions, to see if a recipe of hatred was cooking in the cauldron.

he keeps his eyes on you. the both of you just got out from a meeting with a drug lord that had rather difficult terms and conditions he wouldn’t agree to but he entertained them nonetheless for the sake of testing you. since the job fell on you to deliver those terms and conditions.

you keep writing down notes on that journal, he reads some of what you’ve written which are familiar to him.

“huh. still not faltering are you? i wonder when you might raise this matter.” he thought.

your posture is not as perfect as it had been when you greeted him earlier in the morning. the late night seems enough explanation for that. the inside of the car is quiet except for the engine of the car and the rustling of your pencil on paper.

ever since he started giving them to you he hadn’t heard a word of complaint. he’s not really sure what he expected. a bitch fit about how you can’t do it? a conversation about raising your salary? a rant about how he’s being unfair? he’s dubious about the result he was searching for but he should know. he is the marquis. everything must have a reason, had he expected all three so he might have a reason to fire you? maybe. but why would he fire you? you’ve proven yourself capable and competitive. there is almost no one to your like, only a fool would do that. why does he want to get rid of you for no reason?

perhaps it’s because of what you do for him. he knows you’re in it for the money but…but that unwavering loyalty you’ve offered up to him. does it mean more? or is it just something he’s paying for? an even exchange for the both of you. god, prostitutes seemed easier to handle than this, at least with them he knew their motives but with you…he can’t. you’re background is as pristine as water and everything you’ve done is to further his power. what had he done to deserve it? maybe it is true, maybe. there is no amount of money that can give that level of loyalty, even his highest paid employees and previous assistants weren’t even that good. oh, why? why,why,why,why-

why do you look at him as if he’s the rarest thing on earth? why do you follow him blindly with no hesitation? why do you listen to his words clinging to them as if it’s good as gospel?

he snaps out of his inner turmoil and notices that you’ve looked up at him. you’ve caught him staring, he’s slightly abashed because he’d been vulnerable with himself for a moment, and it’s because of you. for a minute he thought you might’ve been genuine to him, that everything you do is because you want to, not for any materialistic gain. he doesn’t show his disappointment. he keeps his face plain and cold and turns away from you, facing the window. he can see the glass pyramid from The Louvre, his mind begins to drift.

you gullible fool, there is no one in this world that can give you that. you know this-you know this. why do you still yearn for that? there are three kinds of people in the world. those who have something to live for, those who have something to die for, and those who have something to kill for and you are not one of them. no matter how much you want it you cannot be one of them. you are the marquis. you are the marquis. you must be untouchable. what you feel cannot be weaponized against you. do you understand? she does not feel anything for you. there is nothing but you and yourself. in the long run, she won’t matter. when you’ve grown more powerful than today what she’s given to you will be nothing but specks of dust.

that’s how he viewed you. after those two months, he treats you the same with no efforts that may seem arbitrary an attempt to veil what he’s felt for you. keeping it professional you might say, he screws it through his head, that he doesn’t matter to you, that it doesn’t mean more.

one day it changes.

almost two years after that car ride to The Louvre.

you take a bullet for him.

but you take much more than that.

author’s note: welp, that’s part three! i found it difficult to choose which pov for part two, idk if I should keep the marquis’ thoughts ambiguous or just throw this in. I had this dilemma in class and decided to go for reader’s pov, it turned out nice anyways feel free to share your thoughts!

taglist: @dcgoddess @1mawh0re @davvydobrik

part one part two part four part five

#vincent de gramont #marquis de gramont #vincent de gramont x reader #marquis de gramont x reader #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgård #fanfiction #one shot #john wick #john wick 4 #keanu reeves #fanfic #obsessive #yandere #bill skarsgard gif #bill skarsgard imagine

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coralinnii · 2 years

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being reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy

feat. Riddle, Leona

note: this is kinda a long post, can be interpreted as gn!reader, reader is different for each character, I might write blurbs cuz I like the villain/ess genre

part 2 part 3

series masterlist

For heroes to succeed, a villain must fall. Novels, films, and games taught generations to never pity the wicked who stands in the heroine’s way, but you couldn’t bring yourself to follow these sentiments. Your heart goes out to the villains and villainess who drowned in their grief, trapped in a heartless situation, and abandoned by their beloved. Why is it their fault they fell in love with someone who doesn’t love them back? Could their lives be different if given the choice?

“Why couldn’t they be loved too?” You had your final thoughts as you drifted to sleep, only to wake in a startling new yet familiar reality.

Where is this and why do they keep calling you by the villain’s name?

You woke up in your favourite tragic romance drama as an antagonist after you were apparently hit by a croquet ball during a match with your fiancé-to-be, the son and future heir to the Rosehearts empire. Seeing as your family was prominent in high society, you were given the title as a queen candidate despite the young age of both you and Riddle. Feeling guilty over your accident and obedient to his mother, Riddle agreed to the engagement and your family agreed "on your behalf"

The two of you were only children when your engagement was announced but the queen was already adamant in molding Riddle into the perfect monarch, which would result in a volatile tyrant who would be tragically taken down by his true love, the heroine, and her group of rebels. Not that you as his partner would ever see it anyway as Riddle ended up sending you to jail for breaking one of his many rules and eventually perished in your cell.

You thought of two ways to avoid your pitiful death. You would either find a way to break your engagement with Riddle and leave the empire or work to avoid his fate as a tyrant. Seeing as how your family would rather let you die than annul the engagement and feeling bad to leave Riddle to his doomed future, you began your work to befriend and "un-tyrant" him.

You started by inviting the red-haired heir to your home under the guise of royal studies but really you were making play dates with Riddle and his friends that his mother despised, the marquis’ son Trey and the mischievous son of a merchant Chenya. You were delighted to see Riddle enjoying the moments of childish bliss and how beat red he would get when you held his hands before pulling him around the hallways with Trey and Chenya chuckling ahead of you two.

“Riddy, why won’t you give me a nickname?” You teased the redhead but he took your words seriously, as he always does with you.

“I-I wouldn’t know what to call you”

“Mine isn’t very creative either, you know” You giggled at the blooming red hue on your betrothed. “Anything will do. Something that you think would suit me or reminds you of me”

“…Then how about…”

As joyous as your time was, you kept track of impending events that may trigger Riddle’s descent into his tyrannical path.

Then you remembered. One day, the queen found out about his visits to the village with his friends and soon forbade her son to interact with anyone without her supervision, using you as her spy.

When Trey suggested a specific market festival happening at the village, you lied to Riddle and chose to stay behind in your mansion as the boys went off to the village. As you expected, this was the fateful event as the queen came by your home to inspect her son’s study progress.

Though you feared his mother, you kept your doors shut and refused to let her into the room until Riddle managed to climb back through the window. Outraged by your insubordination, his mother immediately annulled your engagement, stripped off your status, and demanded for your imprisonment. At Riddle’s tearful begging however, you were instead sent to a tower not to be seen by the royal family or your own, not that they wanted anything to do with you after this incident.

Years passed and you were unaware of how the story progressed now that you were out of the picture. Occasionally, Chenya would sneak to your tower and tell you of the outside world and bring you letters from Riddle, who blamed himself for your predicament. You may dislike the unreasonable queen, but you could never hate the sweet boy you had the pleasure to have known.

You failed to change the story and now you couldn’t even see the boy you came to cherish. Chenya offered to help you fake your death and escape but ultimately you shook your head.

“I can’t do that to him. I can't leave him like that.”

Although, the letters you used to receive were dwindling as Chenya told you that Riddle was getting too busy and the queen kept strengthening her reigns on Riddle’s actions. Based on the last letter and Chenya’s implications, you surmised Riddle was to inherit the crown soon and he have forgotten about you or have just abandoned the burdensome prisoner. So, with a bittersweet smile, all you could do now was ask Chenya to deliver your last letter.

“This will be my last letter, Riddy. I know you will lead this kingdom with benevolence. All I hope is that you find someone who loves you dearly as I did”

Believing you have failed, you decided with a heavy heart to escape your prison and leave the empire forever. However, before you could...

“We’re here to bring you to the imperial palace” the blue-haired knight explained as he and his red-haired colleague made way for you to exit your prison. Confused, you were forced to follow them as they led you out of your tower. You tried to ask the knights, but all the messy-haired knight could say was “no one can figure out what that crazy king is thinking”

You rode off in an extravagant carriage away from the tower you've spent your adolescence in. Nerves were getting to you as the carriage brought you closer to the capital. Did Riddle call for you or was it really the queen? With a sinking feeling, you wondered if Riddle call you to finish what his mother started all those years ago?

"No, it can't be. Right?"

Without a chance to tidy yourself, you were rushed to the throne room where sitting proudly at the king’s seat was your childhood friend, already a king at the age of 17.

Before you could decide how to conduct yourself, Riddle was already making strides to you, everyone watched with bated breath as their strict monarch now stood face to face with you.

“Rosie…” he whispered your old nickname and you immediately responded.

“Riddy- I mean Riddle- I mean your majesty!” You fumble with your words as Riddle’s piercing grey eyes looked into yours, who chuckled as he gently took your hands in his, the same way you used to with him as children. You grew flustered over the attention, a warm glow was blooming in your heart.

However, that feeling dissipated when his expression steeled itself and he waved his hand to his knights and attendants.

“Well, what are you all waiting for? Kneel!”

Within seconds, everyone in the room fell to their knees and lowered their heads as they greeted their kingdom’s newest royal addition, you. With your hands still cradled by your apparent husband, you realized the story may have changed slightly but your king was the same. You still have to help your red-headed companion from his fate as the tragic tyrant.

It’s still not too late, right?

The novel was really well-received by female audience because it was set in a woman-dominated kingdom where the female lead learns to fight and lead as the future queen. Her biggest obstacles were dismantling the rebellious antagonist group led by her husband’s uncle and the second prince, Leona Kingscholar who was now your arranged husband.

Thankfully, you reincarnated a decade before the heroine was to debut so you could assess your predicament before the story could begin. Leona, despite his portrayal in the series as an irredeemable villain, was your favourite and you were determined to change the story for his sake. You were his partner, right? Why wouldn’t you want your husband to be happy?

What confused you was that your grumpy husband was so different from the story. His nephew Cheka, who was said to fear his uncle, adored him. Clinging to his leg, begging him to play for hours of the day.

For as much as Leona grumbled and complained, he gave into his nephew’s pleas and played with him, which was really just pushing the more rigorous play activities onto you or his closest attendant Ruggie while he naps nearby.

Things started to click when you returned to your personal quarters after playing chess with Leona who refuses to hold back (not because he finds your frustrated expressions adorable as you rack your brain to one-up him, of course). You overheard the servants badmouthing your husband, giving false comments of sympathy. “He’s so smart but sadly he’s just the second prince”, “he has such potential but alas he’s only a title with no power in the palace”.

You told him about this but to your horror, Leona told you he knew about how the people of the kingdom sees him. He broke your heart when he told you as told he was telling himself

“It’s true, isn’t it? I’m nothing to this kingdom. The pitiful prince”

Screw your husband. You weren’t going to let this continue in your mansion. With Ruggie’s help as well as the assistance of a new knight named Jack, you gathered all the servants who ever dared to speak ill of the second prince. With hidden (and albeit sadistic) delight, you fired every single one of them without giving them a chance to explain themselves with only your last words to them.

“Your words were an insult to a member of the royal family and worse, to my husband. Leona may have let this insolence be, but I’m far less forgiving”

The servants were quick to run to the current king and queen, thinking their king would reprimand your “power-crazed rampage”. However, the royal couple was quicker to banish them from the palace.

Leona cornered you in the bedroom you two shared (for appearance's sake), demanding why you would go such lengths for someone like him. His intimidating figure and glare may scare many but not you as you locked your eyes and unhesitatingly replied

“No one belittles the prince who is beloved and respected”

Although, those who sing praises to your husband are not safe from your scrutiny. You remember the names of the aristocrats from the rebellion group who dare think to use Leona as a puppet and you weren’t having that.

#protectivepartnermode

Sick of your stubbornness, the traitorous aristocrats went behind your back to speak to Leona, hoping to entice him to betray his family and spouse in favor of immense power and a harem of beautiful women and men at his feet. Afterall, you two were bound only in political marriage.

Hah, wrong move

Leona was growing more irritated as the aristocrats cried and begged for his forgiveness as they were pinned down by the royal guards. Where did they find the galls to disturb him with worthless notions of their utopia. He was supposed to be heading to the garden to start his teatime with you. As amusing as it was to him to imagine your pout as you impatiently waited for him, he knew not to let his beloved wait too long.

“That herbivore can hold a grudge” he mused.

To his annoyance, one of the traitors still thought he had the upper hand, pulling himself from the guard's grip to hold onto Leona. He thought he could change the mind of the once hopeless prince. He pleaded, surely a powerless outsider couldn’t be worth giving up the throne?!

His thoughts were cut off with a crunch and a scream, his. He looked to his hand that was reaching out to Leona, seeing it bend painfully under the heel of the prince's foot. Did the lazy prince just break his hand? With his growl and a nod of his head, the blabbermouth ex-aristocrat was pulled away by the guards.

“Make sure his tongue is cut”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #villainess au

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anotherhumaninthisworld · 2 months

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I understand the story of marat and his assassination event

But who is lepeletier?

Because I saw a drawing for him by louis David and I learned about his death which happen to be the same as Marat so yeah .. I wanna know about him.

According to the biography Michel Lepeletier de Saint-Fargeau, 1760-1793 (1913), its subject of study was born on 29 May 1760, in his family home on rue Culture-Sainte-Catherine, a building which today is the Bibliothèque Historique de la Ville de Paris. His family belonged to the distinguished part of the robe nobility. At the death of his father in 1769, Lepeletier was both Count of Saint-Fargeau, Marquis of Montjeu, Baron of Peneuze, Grand Bailiff of Gien as well as the owner of 400,000 livres de rente. For five years he worked as avocat du roi at Châtelet, before becoming councilor in Parliament in 1783, general counsel in 1784 and finally taking over the prestigious position of président à mortier at the Parlement of Paris from his father in 1785. On May 16 1789, Lepeletier was elected to represent the nobility at the Estates General. On June 25 the same year he was one of the 47 nobles to join the newly declared National Assembly, two days before the king called on the rest of the first two estates to do so as well. A month later, during the night of August 4 1789, he was in the forefront of those who proposed the suppression of feudalism, even if, for his part, this meant losing 80 000 livres de rente. Four days later he wrote a letter to the priest of Saint-Fargeau, renouncing his rights to both mills, furnaces, dovecote, exclusive hunting and fishing, insence and holy water, butchery and haulage (the last four things the Assembly hadn’t ruled on yet). When the Assembly on June 19 1790 abolished titles, orders, and other privileges of the hereditary nobility, Lepeletier made the motion that all citizens could only bear their real family name — ”The tree of aristocracy still has a branch that you forgot to cut..., I want to talk about these usurper names, this right that the nobles have arrogated to themselves exclusively to call themselves by the name of the place where they were lords. I propose that every individual must bear his last name and consequently I sign my motion: Michel Lepeletier” — and the same year he also, in the name of the Criminal Jurisprudence Committee, presented a report on the supression of the penal code and argued for the abolition of the death penalty. After the closing of the National Assembly in 1791, Lepeletier settled in Auxerre to take on the functions of president of the directory of Yonne, a position to which he had been nominated the previous year. He did however soon thereafter return to Paris, as he, following the overthrow of the monarchy, was one of few former nobles elected to the National Convention, where he was also one of even fewer former nobles to sit together with the Mountain. In December 1792 he started working on a public education plan. On January 20 1793, he voted for death without a reprieve and against an appeal to the people during the trial of Louis XVI (Opinion de L.M. Lepeletier, sur le jugement de Louis XVI, ci-devant roi des François: imprimée par ordre de la Convention nationale). After the session was over, Lepeletier went over to Palais-Égalité (former Palais-Royal) where he dined everyday. The next day, his friend and fellow deputy Nicolas Maure could report the following to the Convention:

Citizens, it is with the deepest affection and resentment of my heart that I announce to you the assassination of a representative of the people, of my dear colleague and friend Lepelletier, deputy of Yonne; committed by an infamous royalist, yesterday, at five o'clock, at the restaurateur Fevrier, in the Jardin de l'Égalité. This good citizen was accustomed to dining there (and often, after our work, we enjoyed a gentle and friendly conversation there) by a very unfortunate fate, I did not find myself there; for perhaps I could have saved his life, or shared his fate. Barely had he started his dinner when six individuals, coming out of a neighboring room, presented themselves to him. One of them, said to be Pâris, a former bodyguard, said to the others: There's that rascal Lepeletier. He answered him, with his usual gentleness: I am Lepeletier, but I am not a rascal. Paris replied: Scoundrel, did you not vote for the death of the king? Lepelletier replied: That is true, because my confidence commanded me to do so.Instantly, the assassin pulled a saber, called a lighter, from under his coat and plunged it furiously into his left side, his lower abdomen; it created a wound four inches deep and four fingers wide. The assassin escaped with the help of his accomplices. Lepeletier still had the gentleness to forgive him, to pray that no further action would be taken; his strength allowed him to make his declaration to the public officer, and to sign it. He was placed in the hands of the surgeons who took him to his brother, at Place Vendôme. I went there immediately, led by my tender friendship, and my reverence for the virtues which he practiced without ostentation: I found him on his death bed, unconscious. When he showed me his wound, he uttered only these two words: I'm cold. He died this morning, at half past one, saying that he was happy to shed his blood for the homeland; that he hoped that the sacrifice of his life would consolidate Liberty; that he died satisfied with having fulfilled his oaths.

This was the first time a Convention deputy had gotten murdered, and it naturally caused strong reactions. Already the same session when Maure had announced Lepeletier’s death, the Convention ordered the following:

There are grounds for indictment against Pâris, former king's guard, accused of the assassination of the person of Michel Lepelletier, one of the representatives of the French people, committed yesterday.

[The Convention] instructs the Provisional Executive Council to prosecute and punish the culprit and his accomplices by the most prompt measures, and to without delay hand over to its committee of decrees the copies of the minutes from the justice of the peace and the other acts containing information relating to this attack.

The Decrees and Legislation Committees will present, in tomorrow's session, the drafting of the indictment.

An address will be written to the French people, which will be sent to the 84 departments and the armies, by extraordinary couriers, to inform them of the crime against the Nation which has just been committed against the person of Michel Lepelletier, of the measures that the National Convention has taken for the punishment for this attack, to invite the citizens to peace and tranquility, and the constituted authorities to the most exact surveillance.

The entire National Convention will attend the funeral of Michel Lepelletier, assassinated for having voted for the death of the tyrant.

The honors of the French Pantheon are awarded to Michel Lepelletier, and his body will be placed there.

The president is responsible for writing, on behalf of the National Convention, to the department of Yonne, and to the family of Lepelletier.

The next day, January 22, further instructions were given regarding Lepeletier’s funeral:

On Thursday January 24, Year 2 of the Republic, at eight o'clock in the morning, will be celebrated, at the expense of the Nation, the funeral of Michel Lepeletier, deputy of the department of Yonne to the National Convention.

The National Convention will attend the funeral of Michel Lepeletier in its entirety. The executive council, the administrative and judicial bodies will attend it as well.

The executive council and the department of Paris will consult with the Committee of Public Instruction regarding the details of the funeral ceremony.

The last words spoken by Michel Lepeletier will be engraved on his tomb, they are as follows: “I am happy to shed my blood for the homeland; I hope that it will serve to consolidate Liberty and Equality; and to make their enemies recognized.”

In number 27 (January 27 1793) of Gazette Nationale ou Le Moniteur Universel, the following long description was given over Lepeletier’s funeral, held three days earlier:

The funeral of Lepeletier Saint-Fargeau was celebrated on Thursday 24 with all the splendor that the severity of the weather and the season allowed, but with such a crowd that it could have been the most beautiful day of the year. At ten o'clock in the morning his deathbed was placed on the pedestal where the equestrian statue of Louis XVI previously stood, on Place Vendôme, today Place des Piques. One went up to the pedestal by two staircases, on the banisters of which were antique candelabras. The body was lying on the bed with the bloody sheets and the sword with which he had been struck. He was naked to the waist, and his large and deep wound could be seen exposed. These were the mournful and most endearing part of this great spectacle. All that was missing was the author of the crime, chained, and beginning his torture by witnessing the sight of the triumph of Saint-Fargeau. As soon as the National Convention and all the bodies that were to form courage were assembled in the square, mournful music was played. It was, like almost all those which has embellished our revolutionary festivals, the composition of citizen Gossec. The Convention was ranged around the pedestal. The citizen in charge of the ceremonies presented the President of the Convention with a wreath of oak and flowers; then the president, preceded by the ushers of the Convention and the national music, went around the monument, and went up to the pedestal to place the civic crown on Lepeletier's head: during this time, a federate gave a speech; the president dismounted, the procession set out in the following order: A detachment of cavalry preceded by trumpets with fourdincs. Sappers. Cannoneers without cannons. Detachment of veiled drummers. Declaration of the rights of man carried by citizens. Volunteers of the six legions, and 24 flags. Drum detachment. A banner on which was written the decree of the Convention which ordered the transport of Lepeletier's body to the Pantheon. Students of the homeland. Police commissioners. The conciliation office. Justices of the peace. Section presidents and commissioners. The commercial court. The provisional criminal court. The department’s fix courts. The electorate. The provisional criminal court. The department's criminal courts fix. The municipality of Paris. The districts of Saint-Denis and the village of L’Égalité. The Department. Drum detachment. The seal of the 84, worn by Federates. The provisional executive council. National Convention Guard Detachment. The court of cassation. Figure of Liberty carried by citizens. The bloody clothes worn at the end of a national pike, deputies marching in two columns. In the middle of the deputies was a banner where Lepeletier's last words were written: "I am happy to shed my blood for my homeland, I hope that it will serve to consolidate Liberty and Equality, and to make their enemies known.”

The body carried by citizens, as it was exhibited on the Place des Piques. Around the body, gunners, sabers in hand, accompanied by an equal number of Veterans. Music from the National Guard, who performed funeral tunes during the march. Family of the dead. Group of mothers with children. Detachment of the Convention Guard. Veiled drums. Volunteers of the six legions and 24 flags. Veiled drums. Volunteers of the six legions and 24 flags. Veiled drums. Volunteers of the six legions and 24 flags. Veiled drums. Armed federations. Popular societies. Cavalry and trumpets with fourdines. On each side, citizens, armed with pikes, formed a barrier and supported the columns. These citizens held their pikes horizontally, at hip height, from hand to hand. The procession left in this order from the Place des Piques, and passed through the streets St-Honoré, du Roule, the Pont-Neuf, the streets Thionville (former Dauphine), Fossés Saint-Germain, Liberté (former Fossés M. le Prince), Place Saint-Michel and Rue d'Enfer, Saint-Thomas, Saint-Jacques and Place du Panthéon. It stopped front of the meeting room of the Friends of Liberty and Equality; opposite the Oratory, on the Pont-Neuf, opposite the Samaritaine; in front of the meeting room of the Friends of the Rights of Man; at the intersection of Rue de la Liberté; Place Saint-Michel and the Pantheon. Arriving at the Pantheon, the body was placed on the platform prepared for it. The National Convention lined up around it; the band, placed in the rostrum, performed a superb religious choir; Lepeletier's brother then gave a speech, in which he announced that his brother had left a work, almost completed, on national education, which will soon be made public; he ended with these words: I vote, like my brother, for the death of tyrants. The representatives of the people, brought closer to the body, promised each other union, and swore on the salvation of the homeland. A big chorus to Liberty ended the ceremony.

According to Michel Lepeletier de Saint-Fargeau, 1760-1793 (1913), civic festivals in honor of Lepeletier were celebrated in all sections of Paris, as well as the towns of Arras, Toulouse, Chaumont, Valenciennes, Dijon, Abbeville and Huningue. Lepeletier’s body did however only get to rest in the Panthéon for a little more than a year, as on February 15 1795, the Convention ordered it exhumed, at the same time as that of Marat. It was instead buried in the park surrounding Château de Ménilmontant, the properly of which the ancestor Lepeletier de Souzy had purchased in the 17th century and that still remained in the family.

One day after the funeral, January 25, Lepeletier’s only child, the ten and a half year old Susanne, who had already lost her mother ten years before the murder of her father, was brought before the Convention by her step-mother and two paternal uncles Amédée and Félix. It was Félix who had held a speech during the funeral and he would continue to work for his seven years older brother’s memory afterwards too, offering a bust of him to the Convention on February 21 1793, (on the proposal of David, it was placed next to the one of Brutus), reading his posthumous work on public education to the Jacobins on July 19 1793, and even writing a whole biography over his life in 1794 (Vie de Michel Lepeletier, représentant du peuple français, assassiné à Paris le 20 janvier 1793 : faite et présentée a la Société des Jacobins).

The president announces that the widow of Michel Lepelletier, his two brothers and his daughter, request to be admitted to the bar, to testify to the Convention their recognition of the honors that they have decreed in memory of their relative. It is decreed that they will be admitted immediately.

One of Michel Lepeletier’s brothers: Citizens, allow me to introduce my niece, the daughter of Michel Lepelletier; she comes to offer you and the French people her recognition of the eternity of glory to which you have dedicated her father... He takes the young citoyenne Lepelletier in his arms, and makes her look at the president of the Convention... My niece, this is now your father... Then, addressing the members of the Convention, and the citizens present at the session: People, here is your child... Lepelletier pronounces these last words in an altered voice: silence reigns throughout the room, with exception for a couple of sobs.

The President: Citizens, the martyr of Liberty has received the just tribute of tears owed to him by the National Convention, and the just honor that his cold skin has received invites us to imitate his example and to avenge his death. But the name of Lepelletier, immortal from now on, will be dear to the French Nation. The National Convention, which needs to be consoled, finds relief to its pain in expressing to his family the just regrets of its members and the recognition of the great Nation of which it is the organ. The Nation will undoubtedly ratify the adoption of Michel Lepelletier's daughter that is currently being carried out by the National Convention.

Barère: The emotion that the sight of Michel Lepeletier's only daughter has just communicated to your souls must not be infertile for the homeland. Susanne Lepelletier lost her father; she must find now find one in the French people. Its representatives must consecrate this moment of all-too-just felicity to a law that can bring happiness to several citizens and hope to several families. The errors of nature, the illusions of paternity, the stability of morals, have long demanded this beautiful institution of the Romans. What more touching time could present itself at the National Convention to pass into French legislation the principle of adoption, than that when the last crimes of expiring tyranny deprived the homeland of one of its ardent defenders and Susanne Lepelletier of a dear father! Let the National Convention therefore give today the first example of adoption by decreeing it for the only offspring of Lepelletier; let it instruct the Legislation Committee to immediately present the bill on this interesting subject. I ask that the homeland adopt through your organ Susanne Lepelletier, daughter of Michel Lepelletier, who died for his country; that it decrees that adoption will be part of French legislation, and instructs its Legislation Committee to immediately present the draft decree on adoption.

This proposal is unanimously approved.

Susanne being adopted by the state would however lead to a fierce debate when, in 1797, this ”daughter of the nation” wished to marry a foreigner. For this affair, see the article Adopted Daughter of the French People: Suzanne Lepeletier and Her Father, the National Assembly (1999)

Right after Barère’s intervention, David took to the rostrum:

David: Still filled with the pain that we felt, while attending the funeral procession with which we honored the inanimate remains of our colleagues, I ask that a marble monument be made, which transmits to posterity the figure of Lepelletier , as you clearly saw, when it was brought to the Pantheon. I ask that this work be put into competition.

Saint-André: I ask that this figure be placed on the pedestal which is in the middle of Place Vendôme... (A few murmurs arise)

Jullien: I ask that the Convention adopt in advance, in the name of the homeland, the children of the defenders of Liberty, who, for similar reasons, could be immolated in the vengeance of the royalists.

All these proposals are referred to the Legislation and Public Instruction Committees.

On Maure's proposal, the Assembly orders the printing of the speeches delivered yesterday at the Panthéon, by one of Michel Lepelletier's brothers, Barère and Vergniaux.

If it would appear David never got to make a marble monument of Lepeletier, on March 28 1793, he could nevertheless present the following painting of his to the Convention, which isn’t just a little similar to his La Mort de Marat.

(This image is an engraving of the actual painting, which has gone missing)

After Marat on July 13 1793 (on the very same day the plan for public education Lepeletier had been working on was read to the Convention by Robespierre) became the second assassinated Convention deputy, we find several engravings etc, depicting the two ”martyrs of liberty” side by side.

In the following months, even more people would be join the two, such as Joseph Chalier, a lyonnais politician executed on July 17 1794 and Joseph Bara, a fourteen year old republican drummer boy killed in the Vendée by the pro-Monarchist forces.

Lepeletier’s murderer, 27 year old Philippe Nicolas Marie de Pâris, a man who the minister of justice described as "former king's guard, height five pieds, five pouces, barbe bleue, and black hair; swarthy complexion, fine teeth, dressed in a gray cloak, green lapels and a round hat” on January 21, went into hiding right after his deed. In spite of his description being published in the papers and a considerable sum of money being promised to whoever caught him, Pâris managed to flee Paris and settled for a country house of an acquaintance near Bourget. He there ran into a cousin of one of the owners. When Pâris asked for food and a bed, he was refused and instead disappeared into the night again. In the evening of January 28 he arrived in Forges-les-Eaux and stopped at an inn, where he came under suspicion once he started cutting his bread with a dagger after which he locked himself into his room. The following morning he woke up with a start as five municipal gendarmes came bursting into his room and told him to come with them. Pâris responded that he would, but in the next second he had picked up his hidden pistol, placed it into his mouth, and pulled the trigger. Searching the dead body, the gendarmes found Pâris’ baptism record (dated November 12 1765) and dismissal from the king's guard (dated June 1 1792), on the latter of which had been written the following:

My certificate of honor. Do not trouble anyone. No one was my accomplice in the fortunate death of the scoundrel de Saint-Fargeau. Had I not run into him, I would have carried out a more beautiful action: I would have purged France of the patricide, regicide and parricide d’Orléans. The French are cowards to whom I say: Peuple dont les forfaits jettent partout l'effroi, Avec calme et plaisir j'abandonne la vie. Ce n'est que par la mort qu'on peut fuir l'infamie Qu'imprime sur nos fronts le sang de notre roi. Signed by Paris the older, guard of the king, assassinated by the French.

Learning about what had happened, the Convention tasked Tallien and Legrand with going to Forges-les-Eaux and making sure the dead man really was Pânis. Having come to the conclusion that this was indeed the case, the deputies briefly discussed whether the body ought to be brought back to Paris, but it was decided it would be better if it was just buried "with ignominy.” It was therefore instead taken into the nearby forest in a wheelbarrow and thrown into a six feet deep hole.

Finally, here are some other revolutionaries simping for honoring Lepeletier’s memory just because I can:

…a tragic event took place the day before the execution [of the king]. Pelletier, one of the most patriotic deputies, and who had voted for death, was assassinated. A king's guard made a wound three fingers wide with a saber: he died this morning. You must judge the effect that such a crime has had on the friends of liberty. Pelletier had an income of six hundred thousand livres; he had been président à mortier in the Parliament of Paris; he was barely thirty years old; to many talents, he added the most estimable of virtues. He died happy, he took to his grave the idea, consoling for a patriot, that his death would serve the public good. Here then is one of these beings whom the infamous cabal who, in the Convention, wanted to save Louis and bring back slavery, designated to the departments as a Maratist, a factious, a disorganizer... But the reign of these political rascals is finished. You will see the measures that the Assembly took both to avenge the national majesty and to pay homage to a generous martyr of liberty. Philippe Lebas in a letter to his father, January 21 1793

Ah! if it is true that man does not die entirely and that the noblest part of himself survives beyond the grave and is still interested in the things of life, come then, dear and sacred shadow, sometimes to hover above the Senate of the nation that you adorned with your virtues; come and contemplate your work, come and see your united brothers contributing to the happiness of the homeland, to the happiness of humanity. Marat in number 105 (January 23 1793) of Journal de la République Française

O Lepeletier! Your death will serve the Republic: I envy your death. You ask for the honors of the Pantheon for him, but he has already collected the prize of martyrdom of Liberty. The way to honor his memory is to swear that we will not leave each other without having given a constitution to the Republic. Danton at the Convention, January 21 1793

O Le Peletier, you were worthy to die for your homeland under the blows of its assassins! Dear and sacred shadow, receive our wishes and our oaths! Generous citizen, incorruptible friend of the truth, we swear by your virtues, we swear by your fatal and glorious death to defend against you the holy cause of which you were the apostle; we swear eternal war against the crime of which you were the eternal enemy, against the tyranny and treason of which you were the victim. We envy your death and we will know how to imitate your life. They will remain forever engraved in our hearts, these last words where you showed us your entire soul; ”May my death,” you said, “be useful to the homeland, may it will serve to make known the true and false friends of liberty, and I die content.” Robespierre at the Jacobins, January 23

Wednesday 23 [sic] — We went to Madame Boyer’s to see the procession. I saw the poor Saint-Fargeau. We all burst into tears when the body passed by, we threw a wreath on it. After the ceremony, we returned to my house. Ricord and Forestier had arrived. I was unable to stop my tears for some time. F(réron), La P(oype), Po, R(obert) and others came to dinner. The dinner was quite fun and cheerful. Afterwards they went to the Jacobins, Maman and I stayed by the fire and, our imaginations struck by what we had seen, we talked about it for a while. She wanted to leave, I felt that I could not be alone and bear the horrible thoughts that were going to besiege me. I ran to D(anton’s). He was moved to see me still pale and defeated. We drank tea, I supped there. Lucile Desmoulins in her diary, January 24 1793

…Pelletier's funeral took place this Thursday as I informed you in my last letter (this letter has gone missing). The procession was immense; it seemed that the population of Paris had doubled, to honor the memory of this virtuous citizen. The mourning of the soul was painted on all the faces: it was especially noticed that the people were extremely affected, which proves that they keenly felt the price of the friend they had lost. Arriving at the Pantheon, Lepelletier's body was placed on the platform prepared for it; his brother delivered a speech which was applauded with tears; Barère succeeded him. Then the members of the Convention, crowding around the body of their colleague, promised union among themselves, and took an oath to save the country. God grant that we have not sworn in vain, that we finally know the full extent of our duties, and that we only occupy ourselves with fulfilling them! In yesterday's session, Pelletier's daughter, aged eight [sic], was presented to the National Convention, which immediately adopted her as a child of the homeland. Georges Couthon in a letter written January 26 1793

How could I be so base as to abandon myself to criminal connections, I who, in the world, have never had more than one close friend since the age of six? (he gestures towards David's painting). Here he is! Michel Lepeletier, oh you from whom I have never parted, you whose virtue was my model, you who like me was the target of parliamentary hatred, happy martyr! I envy your glory. I, like you, will rush for my country in the face of liberticidal daggers; but did I have to be assassinated by the dagger of a republican! Hérault de Sechelles at the Convention, December 29 1793

For a collection of Lepeletier’s works, see Oeuvres de Michel Lepeletier Saint-Fargeau, député aux assemblées constituante et conventionnelle, assassiné le 20 janvier 1793, par Paris, garde du roi (1826)

#hérault and lepeletier being bff’s since age six was new information for me #also i think Augustin just found a rival in ”most loyal little bro in the revolution”#frev #michel lepeletier #lepeletier de saint-fargeau #french revolution #ask #long post

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komorezuki · 5 months

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Unnamed Duke of the Hell, part 1

"You're demons. Junior bottom of the barrel demons, practically the damned"

Obviously he humiliates them because he is just a piece of shit (lovingly). But as a great fan of goth background characters and Hell i can give at least one supernatural entity who is not as much of a loser as Crowley is saying.

We can see among this crowd three demons near the elevator.

I suggest you to focus on middle demoness with a headdress. Lets try to brighten image:

Beautiful Infernal Lady. Look at you, darling, you are gorgeous. I really would like to see her outfit and examine all details but the actress hasn't posted pictures :c

Now return to 1942. Furfur is staying in front of the Dark Council. There are three demons: Dagon (who is certainly high-ranked archidemon and apparently she is the leader), a unknown male-shaped demon (probably Ligur) and... familiar to us the "junior bottom of the barrel" demoness.

Furfur is using plural "your maleficences" talking to them. Three tables are no different as well. I think it means that probably-Ligur and Infernal Lady must be in the council as powerful members, not servants or assistants.

I want you to take a closer look at her:

She is definitely not just some misfit.

I think her black crown-like crest upon her head might point to her name. Most likely she might be a demon from Goetia. If so, there are three matches. First is King Paimon, who described as a man sitting upon a camel with a crown most glorious upon his head.

"There goeth before him also an Host of Spirits, like Men with Trumpets and well sounding Cymbals, and all other sorts of Musical Instruments. He hath a great Voice, and roareth at his first coming, and his speech is such that the Magician cannot well understand unless he can compel him. This Spirit can teach all Arts and Sciences, and other secret things. He can discover unto thee what the Earth is, and what holdeth it up in the Waters; and what Mind is, and where it is; or any other thing thou mayest desire to know. He giveth Dignity, and confirmeth the same. He bindeth or maketh any man subject unto the Magician if he so desire it. He giveth good Familiars, and such as can teach all Arts. He is to be observed towards the West. He is of the Order of Dominations. 1 He hath under him 200 Legions of Spirits, and part of them are of the Order of Angels, and the other part of Potentates."

Second one is Duke Gemory (or Gremory) who is appearing in the form of a beautiful woman wearing a duchess's crown and riding a camel, ascribed with the power of revealing hidden treasures and answering questions about the past, present, and future. Female-shaped entity seems more appropriate for Infernal Lady.

Both of them point to a camel as a spirit animal. But nothing in our Lady's appearance confirms that.

Now the third version. Mighty Marquis Androalphus who is appearing as a peacock. I think Lady's crown is most similar to a peacock's tail.

Androalphus can teach astronomy and geometry perfectly. He is also described as ruling over thirty legions and as having the ability to turn any man into a bird. I bet on third name and i hope that we will see the Lady in s3 more. As a duke of the hell she must participate in mess. Part 2

#good omens #good omens demons #good omens 2 #dagon #dark council #good omens meta #good omens hell #go2 #good omens headcanon #ars goetia #lord dagon #crowley #demon #demons

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fandomnerd9602 · 1 year

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Fate Intervenes

Akira x Wick!Reader

For @morbiusmarauder

The Osaka Continental was under siege. You and your father John Wick, in one of the rare instances, were in the same place at the same time. You were just hoping for a moment of peace with your father but of course, there's no peace with being a Wick.

You and John separated during the fight. You stayed with Akira and Shimazu. You shared little looks of concern with Akira as Shimazu hobbled along.

You exchanged fire with a couple more thugs from the High Table. Akira pulled along her father, "Father we must go"

Shimazu, a man who had been like family to you, clutched his side and shown red on his palm. Akira's eyes locked with yours, pleading.

"We'll get you out of here, sir" you promised as you began the trek down the back way of the Continental.

"Where did he go?" the blind assassin asks the three of you as he blocks the way.

"Caine" you huff, "Shimazu's wounded. Let us pass"

"I can't do that" Caine answers back, "do you know the price of family?"

"They threaten your daughter?" You ask. Akira looks to you and then to Caine in shock.

"Yes." Caine remarks, tapping his sword on the ground. "The one good thing in my life."

"Such is life" you huff. Shizamu takes a stand and readies his sword.

"Let the young ones pass" the older man begs his former friend. "I only speak as a father to another father"

"Please don't do this" Caine's mouth shows a deep frown, one that's bathed in regret as he readies his own sword.

"Sir" you approach Shizamu, "please we'll find another-"

"Protect your family...and mine" Shizamu looks to you, begging you to guide Akira to safety. A little more blood leaks from his wound.

"I am" you answer back before raising your side arm and shooting Caine in the neck. A small dart hits him a split second later.

"They can't hold that against your daughter, Caine." you smirk.

"Be seeing you" Caine smiles as he collapses to the asphalt.

'Be seeing you" you answer back as you grab ahold of Shizamu and limp past the knocked out Caine.

"You keep tranquilizer darts on you?" Akira looks at you concerned.

"Figured they send Caine after my Dad," you admit, "always be prepared for little to no collateral damage"

You load Shizamu into a jeep, Akira jumps in the passenger seat, "I owe you"

"You owe me nothing." you state as you speed out of the Continental. "Gotta get your father some place safe."

"Not that I am not grateful, young Wick" Shizamu winces from the pain, "but that was not exactly honorable."

"I don't think the Marquis de Gramont cares about honor, sir" you answer back as you hold up one of his goon's pins.

"High Table?" Akira readies her own gun

"Some french stooge trying to make a name for himself within the ranks of it." you retort.

"Your father will need your aid." Shizamu speaks up, "both of you" he gestures to you and Akira.

"What do you say, ma'am?" you smile at Akira, "truce?"

"Truce" she smiles back. A small smile made it's way across Shizamu's face.

You'd eventually get Shizamu to the medical attention that he needed. As for you and Akira, the two of you set out to locate Jonathan Wick. The Baba Yaga was going to need all the help he could get.

#john wick chapter 4 #john wick #john wick imagine #john wick x reader #akira x reader #akira imagine #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves #rina sawayama #the continental #assassin #assassin reader #john wick akira #shizamu #hiroyuki sanada #caine #caine john wick #donnie yen

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hpowellsmith · 2 months

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Werewolf: The Apocalypse—The Book of Hungry Names will be out April 25!

There's a free demo up now!

youtube

Werewolf: The Apocalypse — The Book of Hungry Names is an interactive novel by Kyle Marquis set in the World of Darkness. It's entirely text-based, without graphics or sound effects, and fueled by the vast, unstoppable power of your imagination.

But you have failed.

Play as male, female, or nonbinary; befriend or romance werewolves and humans of all genders.

Shapeshift among five forms to slaughter your enemies, or outwit them to take what you need.

Choose your auspice (moon-sign) and your werewolf tribe to learn what sort of monster you are. Play as a Bone Gnawer, Child of Gaia, Glass Walker, Shadow Lord, or Silver Fang.

Claim your territory and heal the spirits there to unlock Gifts that let you summon animals, see into the past, or enter the spirit world.

Play free demo

Wishlist on Steam

Preregister on Google Play

Preorder on iOS

#werewolf: the apocalypse #kyle marquis #world of darkness #choice of games #interactive fiction #if wip #interactive novel wip #choicescript game #text game #horror if #Youtube

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forbidden-sunlight · 2 years

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I’m not seducing the female lead’s obsessive father!

[yandere!regis floyen x agent!reader headcanons]

PART ONE: A NEW DAY, A NEW LIFE

warning: spoilers from the manhwa, obsessive behavior, implied violence. Please take caution.

Note: this is a work of fiction with the intention of entertainment purposes only. The behavior exhibited here is inappropriate and unhealthy, hence it should not be encouraged. Special thanks to @soleilician, @d10nsaint, @lyomeii and @justleisha-deniyor for all of their help with creating this masterpiece!

Give these lovely authors a round of applause guys, I seriously wouldn’t have done without them.

As you can see, this will be a multi-chaptered series, shouldn’t be longer than three parts (hopefully). This will also be part of an entwining series called The Chapter Chronicles, where secrets agents travel to various worlds and tasked with protecting them from destruction.

So without that being said guys, sit back, relax, and let’s dive into a world of love and madness ~.

Gyeong-Ja could say that she is a normal person and led a daily normal life. Life was challenging, even messy, and sad. Nonetheless, despite these unfortunate events that have happened and being a stressed company worker, she found comfort in reading a manhwa or a similar novel that allowed her to escape reality for a few hours until she went to bed, and the day repeated itself. The concepts were unique, but she especially enjoyed the reincarnating-in-another-world troupe.

She never believed in such a thing happening in reality, but that did not stop her from imaging a luxurious and carefree life. At least, until that day happened when Gyeong-Ja’s life turned upside down. Within the blink of an eye, she found herself in a fancy European style bedroom, standing in front of a mirror with a face that wasn’t her own.

In all honesty, she was terrified. Fear had forced her to become a more intelligent individual once she was aware that the world she is in is none other than the setting of Father, I Don't Want To Get Married. If the fact that she was a marquis’ daughter did not startle her enough, it was that Gyeong-Ja’s new body bore a striking resemblance to Duke Regis’ late wife, Amelia. So, why not use it?

She was now a beautiful woman named Louise de LaRue, who must find a match and be married off soon to a good family. In her mind, no one would fit the role of a perfect husband than the Empire’s greatest swordsman. Of course, it was dangerous and risky to influence the course of the story, but it was for her own good.

Besides, shouldn’t she be rewarded for being a law-abiding citizen after working herself to the bone as she had done? What’s wrong with being selfish once in a while, hm?

Gyeong-Ja, now fully accepted her new identity as Louise, really tried to gain the duke’s attention. She had memorized Duke Regis' schedule, tried to calculate the balls he was going to, and searched everywhere she saw him for an excuse to go with him, but despite all her efforts, everything she did was fruitless.

Her new father supported her ambitions and promised to help his daughter anyway he could. After all, it would bring their family to the peak of high society if she took the vacant position of the Floyen duchy as its duchess. Duchess Louise Floyen. That had a nice ring to it, didn’t it?

But, back to the matter at hand. She still couldn’t get close to the Duke!

Ah, if she’d studied for her university exam with the effort you put into conquering that goddamn man, she’d be a professor now! She reprimanded herself before forcing her aggravated mind to calm down. It wasn’t the end of the world. She simply had to change her tactics. If she couldn’t approach the Duke, then the best person to ensure a romance with him was to get close to his daughter, Jubelian.

Once he realizes how kind, honest, and intelligent she is compared to the other high society rats, he’ll definitely fall in love with her. Yes, this was the way towards a happy life~!

A person’s own world could take on the shape of entertainment for other individuals.

These worlds are crafted from authors. When the world is in the incomplete drafting phase, they are in control of it. However, once the author writes the final sentence of their work, the world becomes independent from its creator. It cannot be touched by any outsiders, nor will it collapse unless something happens to the male protagonist, the female lead, or deuteragonist.

Every world has its own set of rules and genres. If an outsider intervenes with the novel’s plot on the pretense of conquering a character or to shape it into their own world, that’s where you come in.

Under the name “Sheila”, you worked as an agent for The Chapter, one of three organizations tasked with monitoring these worlds and fixing them before they are destroyed.

Although you were vacationing on an off-world designated for relaxation, your contract as an S-ranked agent did require you to be ready for an emergency mission. So, when you heard the shrill alarm emitting from your system, you automatically knew it was time to clock back in.

The system provided the intel via a web file: the world you were assigned to was based on a best-selling novel and manhwa adaptation; Father I Don’t Want to Get Married. Everything was running its course until an outsider showed up. A transmigrator who is reborn in this world as an extra side character and decides to find her own happy ending.

Basically, an idiot who wants to screw up the world’s order so she can get herself a hot (and preferably rich) man who just happened to be the female lead’s father.

Ugh, why can’t people enjoy a romance with deep feelings instead of sexual attraction? But that was just your logical opinion. Agents weren’t allowed to get attached to anyone. Shaking your head, you continued to read the file.

This world has a high ranking on novel websites, classifying it as forbidden. Once you were there, all connection to The Chapter’s main system would be cut off. You would be alone with limited access to tools and emerge in the world in your original physical body instead of the spiritual one that allows you to possess a person.

There were just as many pros as there were cons if you accepted this mission. However, you didn’t obtain a perfect streak of SS-scored missions within the last quarter by being meek. So what’s one more forbidden world to add to your mission record or another person who will hate you for messing up their ‘genius’ plans?

Seeing them crumble in despair or screaming your name in anger as karmic retribution kicked their ass made this job all the more fun, anyway~!

Grinning, you pressed the ACCEPT button on the screen, immediately teleporting to the novel world. Upon the completed migration process, you woke up in a lovely bedroom with cream-colored walls and another screen hovering in front of you.

Your new identity was Sheila Griddlebone, the only child of Marquis Griddlebone and trusted advisor on the Emperor’s council. Starting today, you would be shadowing your father in the imperial palace as you have recently been declared the heir to the household. Your older brother was too incompetent to run things.

Sadly, the intruder was part of the neutral political faction and not the loyalists, so you couldn’t see firsthand what this flea looked like. But you did get a name: Louise LaRue. Least that some form of identification to the outsider you were tasked with apprehending while not exposing yourself as an agent.

Rumors around high society gossiped about her relentless pursuit of the novel’s deuteragonist. In all honesty, you kinda expected the flea to possess a cheat system that allowed her to be in this world or to collect enough affection to conquer the aloof man. But you certainly did not think she would sink this low to not only possess a physical resemblance to his late wife, but also act like her. And she’s supposed to be a marquis’ daughter too? How shameless.

But that was all right, all good things would come to those who waited. And all the more anticipation to see her squirming before the emperor once she was exposed as a fraud.

Ah, you seriously loved this job~!

#forbidden-sunlight #x reader #yandere #yandere manhwa x reader #the chapter chronicles #yandere manhwa au #father i dont want to get married #regis floyen #yandere regis floyen x reader #regis floyen x reader #acuriousmoon #ns.fw

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vizkopa · 1 year

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Damned if you Do (Devil!Doflamingo x Reader) Part 1

Oops, my hand slipped >.> Warning for blood/gore, religious themes, strong language and LOTS of smut in future chapters!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 1: City of Angels?

“Forgive me father for I have sinned,” you said, sliding into the confession booth at the Church of St Mjosgard. “It’s been about…” you checked your phone screen, “…three hours since my last confession.”

There came a sigh from behind the screen. “[Name], I’ve told you, you don’t have to say that every time.”

You smirked. “Would you prefer ‘sorry Daddy, I’ve been naughty’?”

Father Rosinante choked, which he elegantly turned into a cough. “No! No, that’s quite alright. How did it go?”

You sat back with a huff, folding your arms across your chest. “He didn’t know anything. Must have been a bad lead.”

“Are you sure?”

“I was very persuasive.”

“Spare me the details.”

You sighed. “I’m running out of time, Father.”

“I know. Have faith, [Name].”

“Easy for you to say, you’re a priest,” you muttered.

“I know things might seem hopeless, but we can’t give in yet. I’ll keep digging. In the meantime, you should go home and get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah,” you said, though you hadn’t slept properly in nearly a decade. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

You stood to leave and as you exited the booth, you felt Rosinante’s reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll keep praying for you.” He squeezed lightly and then dropped his hand.

“I appreciate the gesture, Father,” you said over your shoulder, “but God gave up on me a long time ago.”

It was raining when you left the church. You pulled your hood up over your head and shoved your hands deep into your pockets, shoulders hunched against the downpour as you hurried across the street. It was just your luck, you thought. The last few weeks of your life and it looked like it was going to rain the whole time. You had moved to LA to escape the cold and the wet (among other things), but just like said other things, it too had followed you across the country, it seemed.

As you made your way down the street, you got the distinct feeling you were being watched. Your fingers closed around the consecrated knife in your pocket, senses on high alert. From a dark alleyway somewhere ahead of you, two yellow eyes peered out of the darkness. You felt a small thrill of fear before you realised who it was and relaxed.

“Hello, Law,” you sighed.

A man stepped out of the shadows. Except he wasn’t a man—not really. His eyes, though grey now he was in full view, still held a glint of something unnatural, and his canines seemed longer and sharper than any human’s.

“Are you hungry?” you asked him.

He shook his head. “I have information.”

“Let’s hear it then.”

“I found him.”

Your heart quickened at those words, but Law seemed reluctant to say more. “Well?” you prompted, growing impatient.

“[Name]… I don’t think it’s a good idea to go after him.”

You frowned. “Why?”

Law hesitated. “He’s… dangerous. Incredibly so.”

“So, what, I should just wait for my timer to run out and skip on down to Hell without putting up a fight?”

“I’m not saying that. I just… He’s powerful, [Name]. Way more powerful than me or any demon you’ve encountered before. You can’t win.”

“How do you know that?” You folded your arms.

“Listen,” Law took a step closer. “I don’t know his name, but I do know he’s high up the ladder. Perhaps a Marquis or a Lord. Maybe even a Prince. You can’t beat him.”

You sighed. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll see you around, Law.”

“Wait!” He hesitated. “If you… if you still want to find him despite what I told you… There’s a demon called Bellamy. He frequents a demon bar called Corrida. He might know more. But be careful.”

“I know the place. I’ll check it out. Thanks.”

Law melted back into the darkness without another word, and you continued on your way through the rain, contemplating the newly acquired information. Having a demon informant was certainly useful.

Law was an incubus, a demon that fed on sexual energy. In exchange for inside information into the inner workings of Hell, you would keep him ‘fed’, so to speak. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement and nothing more. Rosinante had never approved of the arrangement, but even he had to admit, the incubus had been invaluable thus far.

It only took a few seconds to make your decision. Ignoring your promise to Rosi that you would go home and get some sleep, you changed direction, offering a silent apology to the Father, and going in search of the bar Law had mentioned.

The street was little more than an alley, tucked between a dilapidated office building and a crumbling warehouse. A few loiterers smoking beneath the eaves of a closed club across the street wolf whistled as you passed, but you ignored them. Mortal men were hardly a threat to you these days. Not when your very soul was on the line.

A few patrons looked up as you entered the dark tavern. You ignored them as you made your way to a seat at the bar, gathering more stares as you went. By the time you had sat down, every pair of eyes in the room were fixed on you. You ordered a shot of vodka, which the bartender slammed down in front of you, sloshing liquor over the sides of the glass. You winced as the burning liquid spilled down your throat but ordered a second shot all the same. A demon in the corner stood up.

“You’re not welcome here, Hunter,” he growled.

You held your hands up. “I’m not here to cause trouble. Just looking for a drink and some answers.”

“You’ve had your drink and you’ll get no answers. Leave.”

“Well, that’s rather rude,” you said with mock hurt. “I’m just looking for a guy by the name of Bellamy. Anyone know him?”

A second demon stood up. Horns curled outward from amongst blonde hair and a long, forked tongue lolled out from between pointed teeth. “What’s it to you, Princess? Getting tired of your incubus friend? Fixin’ for some real demon cock?”

The bar patrons chuckled.

You sighed. “Listen, I’ve had a long day of beating up your hellish buddies and I’m real tired. If you could just direct me to your boss, I’ll be happy to get out of your way.”

Bellamy stalked up to you. “So, it was you who killed Caesar today,” he growled. The bar fell silent, and you felt the wave of disbelief and rage that rolled over the crowd. “You made a mistake walking in here, little girl.”

You cursed under your breath, hand slipping into your pocket to close around your knife. You felt the movement of air behind you, and you whirled, knife swinging in a wide arc. The demon who had been sneaking up to grab you from behind reeled backward, his throat gaping and spurting black blood. He fell to the ground and moved no more. There was silence for a beat, before all hell broke loose.

Ragged claws raked at your arm, tearing your sleeve to ribbons and you retaliated with a stab through the offending demon’s eye. You wrenched it out just in time to duck beneath another blow aimed at your head and lunged upwards, feeling the knife sink deep into the space between two ribs and the imminent weight of a body as it grew slack against you. Hot, black ichor poured over your hands and the knife slipped from your hold as the demon went down. You lunged after it, just narrowly avoiding yet another swipe of dagger-sharp claws from a third attacker.

Swearing like a sailor, you retrieved the knife and straightened to find yourself backed against the bar, a wall of bloodthirsty demons between you and the door. Bellamy had slunk away somewhere through the crowd, content to let the lesser demons do his dirty work. Well, there went your one and only lead.

“Enough.”

Though it wasn’t a shout, the word seemed to cut through the chaos like a blade, stilling everyone in their tracks. The dim gloom of the tavern was suddenly cleaved by a shaft of daylight, motes of dust dancing in the air. Some of the demons hissed and shrank away from the light.

A man stood in the doorway. Except that you knew as soon as you laid eyes on him that he was no ordinary man. An oppressive aura seemed to worm its way into the bar, seizing your heart with a cold fear that rendered you motionless. The demons around you all sank to their knees and bowed their horned heads in submission.

He stepped forward and without the halo of light from outside, you could finally see his face. He was beautiful—it was the only way you describe him. High cheekbones, a chiseled jaw, flawless tanned skin. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of white-rimmed sunglasses, but you could tell they were fixed on you. He grinned.

“I was wondering when we would finally meet, my dear,” he purred. An involuntary shudder ran through you and you held the blood-stained knife a little higher.

He stepped forward, the demons parting for him, until there was barely a foot of space between you. He was so tall, you had to crane your neck to look up into his face. His unnerving grin never faltered as he said: “kneel.”

You felt your body obey his command as if you were just a puppet and he your master. You sank to the floor at his feet, every muscle in your body tense as you tried to fight for control, but it was futile. The knife clattered to the floor as your fingers grew numb and heavy. The man reached out and cradled your chin in one large hand. His touch was like fire. You were sure he could see the fear in your eyes.

“You will make a fine Queen,” he said.

Finally, you were able to exercise enough control over your own body to wrench your face out of his hold.

“What?”

“I’ve been watching you a long time. So determined, so driven. Just what I need in a ruler to stand at my side.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you hissed.

He grinned. “There’s that fighting spirit I can’t wait to break.” He smoothed a hand over your hair, tucking the strands behind one ear. You cringed away from his touch. “You resist me now, but it won’t be long before you seek me out. I know your very soul, what you desire more than anything else in this world.”

“The only thing I want is to kill you.”

The demon king chuckled and a few of the demons in the room snickered along with him. You bared your teeth at them, but it was an empty threat. That all-encompassing power still held you tightly in its fist.

“My, my, what a temper. Will you hurt me, [Name]? Torture me like you tortured my underlings while they begged for death? Or will it be quick and clean so you can get back to your incubus whore?”

You could feel your pulse throbbing in your temples, muscles and tendons straining as you raged against your invisible bonds. Words would not come to you.

“I look forward to finding out.” He bent and pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek, your skin burning at the touch of his lips. “I’ll be waiting, my Queen.”

With that he was gone, and the invisible weight lifted from your limbs. You snatched up your knife and staggered to your feet and were out the door before any of the demons could react. As soon as you were outside, you vomited into the gutter.

It was him. The demon you’d been hunting all this time. The demon who held your contract.

Shuddering and heaving, you straightened, rain and bile and demon blood dripping off you onto the street, and you sprinted all the way home.

#one piece #doflamingo #donquixote doflamingo #trafalgar law #doflamingo x reader #trafalgar law x reader #donquixote rocinante #rocinante x reader #one piece fanfic #one piece fan fiction #one piece x reader

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nordleuchten · 1 year

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Heyy, have you ever wrote about Lafayette and Napoleon's feelings/contact with each other?

'cause even knowing some stuff about them, i think that there might be more for it than I know

Thankss <3

Dear Anon,

the relationship between La Fayette and Napoléon was a very complex and layered one, but I will try to give you detailed summary.

The first link between La Fayette and Napoléon was in January of 1791 when a young Napoléon mentioned La Fayette in a letter to his friend Matteo Buttafoco. The letter and commentary on it can be found in this post here.

The next serious connection between these two man came when Napoléon defeated the Austrians and the Treaty of Campo Formio was signed, thus freeing La Fayette and his fellow prisoners from Olmütz. La Fayette, duly thankful to Napoléon, wrote the General a note of thanks. Again, the letter itself and commentary can be found in this post here.

La Fayette spend the next years in exile and he and Napoléon had next to no real connection at the time. This all changed when La Fayette, due to the brilliant work of Adrienne, returned to France during Napoléon’s Coup d’État in 1799.

His name and the names of many of his family members were still on the list of émigrés so legally they could not return to France. When La Fayette did so anyway, Napoléon was not amused. He was eventually consoled by Adrienne and Napoléon eventually restored La Fayette’s citizenship in March of 1800.

La Fayette was banned from attending the memorial service for the American General George Washington who died on December 14, 1799. George Washington had been a close friend, confident and father figure for La Fayette. Despite all this, La Fayette’s and Napoléon’s relationship still was rather friendly. They actually had a certain respect for each other as Generals but especially Napoléon was from the start quite wary around the Marquis. La Fayette had been vastly popular in France and still was. His popularity had greatly suffered during the second half of the French Revolution but his time in prison and the actions of his wife had partly helped to restore it. La Fayette had no political ambitions when he returned to France and his popularity was still tarnished but he nevertheless could have posed a threat to Napoléon if he really, really would have wanted that. The two of them met a few times at social functions and also exchanged letters but their relationship deteriorated more and more with time. They were similar in one aspect though, they both longed for glory – but their approach was different.

Napoléon hoped to gain La Fayette’s support for his government but La Fayette refused to serve in the Senate and to become the French ambassador to his beloved America, although both positions were suggested to him through different sources. La Fayette was also offered to be made a member of the Legion of Honour. He again refused. He had no interest of being overly entangled with Napoléon. Although not being outspoken in public La Fayette would not keep his opinions for himself if somebody asked him about his opinions. Actually, there was no need asking him about his opinions, La Fayette was one of the most well-known men in France, everybody even remotely interested in politics knew his stance. There is a passage from a conversation Napoléon and La Fayette had in the summer of 1802:

‘I [Napoléon] must tell you, General Lafayette, and I see with regret that, by your manner of expressing yourself on the acts of the government you give to its enemies the weight of your name.’ Lafayette replied, ‘What better can I do? I live in retirement in the country, I avoid occasions for speaking; but whenever anyone comes to ask me whether your regime conforms to my ideas of liberty, I shall answer that it does not; for, General, I certainly wish to be prudent, but I shall not be false.’

Bayard Tuckermann, Life of General Lafayette; with a critical estimate of his character and public acts, Vol. 2, Low, London, 1889, p. 158.

La Fayette did not trust Napoléon and did not wish to be part of his government. La Fayette voted against the consulship for life and this decision was at least from Napoléon’s point of view the final nail in the coffin of their relationship. La Fayette explained to Napoléon himself in a letter from May 20, 1802:

General – When a man who is deeply impressed with a sense of the gratitude he owes you, and who is too ardent a lover of glory to be wholly indifferent to yours, connects his suffrage with conditional restrictions, those restrictions not only secure him from suspicion, but prove amply that no one will more gladly than himself behold in you the chief magistrate for life, of a free and independent republic.

Life of Lafayette: Including an Account of the Memorable Revolution of the Memorable Revolution of the Three Days of 1830, Light & Horton, Boston, 1835, pp. 1.

But La Fayette was still somewhat out of Napoléon’s reach. But his son, who joined the military in 1800, and his son-in-law, Louis de Lasteyrie, were not. Although both of them and especially Georges, distinguished themselves in battles, they were not promoted. Whenever a promotion for one of them was up for debate, it never came to pass. La Fayette’s son and son-in-law therefor left the army in September of 1807 – there was just no point in serving any longer.

During the 100 Days, Napoléon’s brief return to power after his exile on St. Helena and prior to his exile on Elba, La Fayette became outspoken once again. He had been elected to the Chamber of Representatives (not to be confused with the Chamber of Deputies; both were the lower chambers of the French Parliament but the Chamber of Deputies was active during the Bourbon Restoration, the Chamber of Representatives was only active during The Hundred Days) in 1814. He had previously argued that too little people in France were eligible to vote the members of the Chamber of Deputies that such a political body could never represent France. Anyway, La Fayette was pretty silent as a Representative until June 21, 1815, after Napoléon’s defeat at Waterloo. The Chamber meet early that day to discuss the general state of affairs. La Fayette rose and proposed the following:

Representatives! For the first time during many years you hear a voice, which the old friends of liberty will yet recognize. I rise to address you concerning the dangers to which the country is exposed. The sinister reports which have been circulated during the last two days, are unhappily confirmed. This is the moment to rally round the national colours—the Tricoloured Standard of 1788—the standard of liberty, equality, and public order. It is you alone who can now protect the country from foreign attacks, and internal dissensions. It is you alone who can secure the independence and the honour of France.

Permit a veteran in the sacred cause of liberty, in all times a stranger to the spirit of faction, to submit to you some resolutions which appear to him to be demanded by a sense of the public danger, and by the love of our country. They are such as, I feel persuaded, you will see the necessity of adopting:

I. The Chamber of Deputies declares that the independence of the nation is menaced.

II. The Chamber declares its sittings permanent. Any attempt to dissolve it, shall be considered high treason. Whosoever shall render himself culpable of such an attempt shall be considered a traitor to his country, and immediately treated as such.

III. The Army of the Line, and the National Guards, who have fought, and still fight, for the liberty, the independence, and the territory of France, have merited well of the country.

IV. The Minister of the Interior is invited to assemble the principal officers of the Parisian national Guard, in order to consult on the means of providing it with arms, and of completing this corps of citizens, whose tried patriotism and zeal offer a sure guarantee for the liberty, prosperity, and tranquillity of the capital, and for the inviolability of the national representatives.

V. The Ministers of War, of Foreign Affairs, of Police, and of the Interior are invited to repair immediately to the sittings of the Chamber.

Bayard Tuckermann, Life of General Lafayette; with a critical estimate of his character and public acts, Vol. 2, Low, London, 1889, pp. 190-193.

The resolution was soon adopted with the exception of the fourth paragraph. Please note that the exact wording of La Fayette’s little speech differs a little bit from translation to translation, but the gist is always the same. La Fayette more or less openly called for the abdication of the Emperor Napoléon. When Napoléon’s brother urged the Chamber to reconsider La Fayette answered him that (again, different sources translate slightly different):

Who shall dare to accuse the French nation of inconstancy to the Emperor Napoleon? That nation has followed his bloody footsteps through the sands of Egypt and through the wastes of Russia; over fifty fields of battle; in disaster as faithfully as victory; and it is for having thus devotedly followed him that we now mourn the blood of three millions of Frenchmen.

Life of Lafayette: Including an Account of the Memorable Revolution of the Memorable Revolution of the Three Days of 1830, Light & Horton, Boston, 1835, p. 114.

Yes, la Fayette could give quite a speech - if he wanted to. Other the next days, Napoléon was urged to abdicate (June 22, 1815) with the threat that the Chamber would otherwise abdicate for him. The Chamber selected a committee of fife men to meet with delegates of the allied forces for the allies had promised peace negotiations, provided Napoléon was not longer in power. One of these fife men was La Fayette. There are not too many letters from La Fayette about these events that I can show you, but here is an excerpt from a letter to Thomas Jefferson from October 10, 1815:

In your Letters of Last year, anterior to the first Abdication of Bonaparte, you Had Expressed a due Sense of that Character who Having it in His Power to Be a Blessing did prefer to Become a Curse to Mankind. His despotism and His follies Had made the Restoration of the Bourbons, notwithstanding foreign invasion, a popular Event—They Returned the Compliment. Their prejudiced mismanagement, the more Glaring improprieties of Privilege-men Gave Napoleon the Opportunity to Reappear as a Representative of the Revolution. Whatever may Have Been a few Subaltern Intrigues, the Great, the Efficacious Conspiracy in His Behalf may Be attributed to the Counter Revl[uti]onary party.

in those transactions I took No part altho’ I would Have Readily assisted in Opposing Napoleon Had Not the patriotic System me[t] the Same objections which Had Ruined the Constitutional throne of 92.

We then Have Seen the Imperial destroyer of french Liberty Reassuming a Republican Language, Bowing to [na]tional Sovereignty, allowing a free press, and altho’ Vindictive or Arbitrary acts too often Betray’d old Habits, persuading many patriots to Rejoice at His Conversion—Not So did I—But While I Shunned personal Communication with Him, I declared that, if a free Representation was Convened, I would Stand a Candidate—we were, my Son and myself elected.

at the Same time a million of foreign invaders were, in Concert with Lewis the 18t and the elder Branch of His family, Led Against Bonaparte, was it Said, against what and whom the Event Has proved—the defense of national independance and territory Became, of Course, our principal object. it was my opinion that Unanimity and vigor Could Better Be Roused By a popular than By the Imperial Government—The Majority of the Assembly and Army depended more on the General Ship of Napoleon altho’ His whole troops did little Exceed two Hundred thousand. So we all joined on that Line of Resistance. No impediment was thrown, Every Assistance was Given. Never did our Heroïc Army fight Better than at waterloo. a Stubborn Mistake of Bonaparte Lost the day. He deserted His Soldiers, and Determined to dissolve our Assembly, usurp dictatorial powers, prefering the chances of Confusion and involving destruction to those of firmness and patriotism. That part of the impending Evils was timely prevented. it might Have Been the Case with the other part, altho’ Coming upon us in a Storm, Had Not the old diplomacy in poland, Napoleon’s policy in Spain, the Spirit of pilnitz in 91, and of the Last Congress at vienna Been far Surpassed By the present Coalition.

inclosed you will find a few pieces Relative to our Late House of Representatives. their declaration of the 5t July 1815 Congenial with the principles of 1789 are an additional proof that if the french people Have deplorably Erred in the means they Have Steadily persevered in the primary object of the Revolution.

“Lafayette to Thomas Jefferson, 10 October 1815,” Founders Online, National Archives, [Original source: The Papers of Thomas Jefferson, Retirement Series, vol. 9, September 1815 to April 1816, ed. J. Jefferson Looney. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2012, pp. 67–69.] (05/22/2023)

After Napoléon’s abdication, the relationship between him and La Fayette effectively ended safe for one important letter that I would like to show you. La Fayette had himself been a prisoner of war for several years and he had suffered under the conditions imposed upon him. When there was talk that the British mistreated Napoléon on Saint Helena, La Fayette wrote a letter to the American Secretary of the Treasury William H. Crawford in 1819 – and as before, the letter can be found in this post here.

I hope this answer is helpful to you and I hope you have/had a wonderful day!

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ihateliterature · 1 year

Text

Things that (as far as I'm aware) were not included in the main game (and probably never will) (currently playing Yves, the only one yet untouched is Leon) and I think that's a damn shame

SPOILERS

obv

1. The backstories of the mothers

First of all, I want their names, ALL of their names. Isn't it crazy how we only know the full names of Anita and Leticia?

As such I will give them the next nicknames:

Jin:Belle

Chevalier:The Queen

Leon:Lady Dompteur

Yves: Princess Kloss

Luke:Mrs. Randolph

Clear? Clear

We know about Leyla and that Luke took his stepfather's family name but we don't know his mom's?

Unacceptable

I want to know everything about these women

I want to know exactly how the Queen's mental health went down the drain and the Marquis' perspective on it

I want to know Leticia's childhood and why she killed herself

I want to know exactly what were the motivations behind Lady Dompteur's actions. Her family circumstances. Her perspective on the situation, what she felt when she realised her son couldn't be saved and where she went after he died

I want to know where Belle came from. If she had any family in Rhodolite, what did they think when she was exiled? What country did she run to? How was her life there until she got sick?

I want to know why Princess Kloss was the one sent to Rhodolite. Her opinion of her husband. How she felt about Yves. How she planned to raise him. If she saw the writing on the wall before she died

I want to know about Anita's life with the troupe. The countries she's been to, the people she met, the performances she held. If she loved the King and their first meeting

I want to know how Mrs. Randolph got to the palace. How she dealt with what happened to her, how she really felt about Luke. How she met her husband and what she felt when Layla was born. Whether she thought about Luke before she died

I want more of these women and I'm tempted to write it myself

2. Related to the last point, the relationship between the Queen and Leticia

They are described to have had a really beautiful friendship and I want to know more

3. Chevalier's early life and his relationship with his mother

Nuff, said, have another post about it

4. Yves first blunders in the kitchen

You can't became that good without lots of failures (unless you're Chevalier) I want to know about all the disasters he caused

5. The beginning of Jin and Nokto's whoring behavior. When did they start and why?

Headcanon time!

I like to believe that none of them started out good or really all that consensual

My headcanon for Jin is that he got picked up by a woman while he was drunk and woke up the next day confused and slightly regretting what he did

The one for Nokto is that he got groomed by an older noblewoman into becoming her secret lover

6. The previous selection

WTH happened? There was a Belle so there must have been more princes, where are they? I think they're confirmed dead but what happened to them after the selection?

7. The King, we know jack shit about this guy

We don't even his name. The fandom has to debate on whether his name was Grandet or Klein

We know about his first love, shitty behavior and decaying physical and mental health, but that's it

He was described as being well loved once upon a time. Why? What were his good qualities? Was he a military leader? A negotiator? A charismatic leader? What did he want to do with the kingdom? What ambitions did he have? What was his relationship with his own father? His mother? His brothers? Were there any sisters in the picture?

8. The 4th Prince

How was he like? Was he similar to our Leon in personality? What was he thinking while he was on his deathbed, with his only companion being the boy who will secretly replace him after death? Did he resent his mother for it? Did he understand her reasons? Was he bitter? Peaceful? I. Need. To. Know

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikeprince #chevalier michel #jin grandet #clavis lelouch #leticia lelouch #leon dompteur #yves kloss #licht klein #nokto klein #anita klein #luke randolph

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choiceofgames · 1 year

Text

More “World of Darkness” Games!

Choice of Games, in partnership with World of Darkness and Paradox Interactive, today announced that they would produce ten more interactive novels set in the World of Darkness shared story universe through 2027.

Choice of Games’ interactive novels have received critical and popular acclaim, with Vampire: The Masquerade — Sins of the Sires standing as a finalist for the Game Writing Award in the annual Nebula awards this weekend. Choice of Games and World of Darkness congratulate Natalia Theodoridou on this achievement.

Choice of Games' next two upcoming titles in the World of Darkness, Werewolf: The Apocalypse — The Book of Hungry Names and Hunter: The Reckoning — Beast of Glenkildove are now available to wishlist on Steam.

* * * * *

Save the living earth with Rage and spirit! Awaken ancient mysteries, rebuild your fallen pack, and unleash your fearsome might to heal a shattered land.

Werewolf: The Apocalypse — The Book of Hungry Names is an interactive novel set in the World of Darkness by Kyle Marquis, author of the 2020 smash hit Vampire: The Masquerade — Night Road. It's entirely text-based, without graphics or sound effects, and fueled by the vast, unstoppable power of your imagination.

Yet you have failed. Pollution chokes the cities and mad spirits rampage through the wild places. You swore to protect Gaia, but the werewolves turned on each other, slaughtered their allies, fell into despair or mad Rage.

You are one of the few who remember the oaths you swore to the living earth - which has made you an exile. But rather than surrender to despair, you have sworn to uncover the secrets of a defiled land and fight the Apocalypse. Stormcat, once the Spirit of a thriving community of werewolves, has called upon you to rebuild that shattered pack. In the savage woods and decaying cities of New England, you will forge your own legend.

Survive the Wilds. A desperate exile, shunned by those who have abandoned their oaths to Gaia, you'll have to survive by your wits. A winter night can kill as surely as any monster: find shelter, seek allies among spirits and humans, and learn how far you'll go to survive.

Unleash Your Rage. You are one of Gaia's monsters, a living weapon, herald of vengeance and death. Now the Apocalypse is here: wield your Rage with savage cunning and keen discretion, or it will swallow you whole.

Play as male, female, or nonbinary; befriend or romance werewolves and humans of all genders.

Shapeshift among five forms to slaughter your enemies, or outwit them to take what you need.

Choose your auspice (moon-sign) and your werewolf tribe to learn what sort of monster you are.

Claim your territory and heal the spirits there to unlock Gifts that let you summon animals, control the elements, or enter the spirit world.

Face mutated monsters and corrupt spirits in the dark woods and decaying factory towns of rural New England.

About Kyle Marquis

This is Kyle Marquis's eighth game with Choice of Games; his previous titles include the dieselpunk flying-ace game Empyrean, the time-traveling alternate-history Byzantine mystery Silverworld, and the apotheosis-seeking magical adventure Tower Behind the Moon.

* * * * *

Full moon. Cold night. Dark shadow. Warm gun. The Beast of Glenkildove has stalked Ireland for centuries. Now, you must hunt it.

Hunter: The Reckoning — The Beast of Glenkildove is an interactive novel by William Brown, set in the World of Darkness shared story universe. It's entirely text-based, without graphics or sound effects, and fueled by the vast, unstoppable power of your imagination

Eight years ago, when you were eighteen, the Beast of Glenkildove killed one of your closest friends. You've never returned to Ireland since that day.

It's difficult to remember what happened. As you'll soon learn, the human mind blots out the traumatic memories of facing a werewolf.

Now, you must stalk that werewolf across the shadowed glens and fogbound mountains of Ireland, hunting a shapeshifting killing machine with your friends, your wits, and a shotgun.

But you and your friends are not alone. You have entered a world of Hunters, humans who dare to challenge the dominion of the monsters who rule over them. Can you trust the fanatics of the Society of Leopold, the scholars and savants of the Arcanum, the ruthless Duffy crime family, or the enigmatic biotech company Fada?

Can you even trust your oldest friends?

Redemption for some. Retribution for others. A reckoning for all.

Play as male, female, or nonbinary; befriend or romance humans and supernaturals of any gender

Kill, study, capture, document or negotiate with the creatures you hunt

Craft your own traps, gear, and weapons to take the Hunt to the enemy

Find camaraderie and romance with the only people in the world that you can trust to fight alongside you

Adopt and train your own wolfhound to assist you in the Hunt

Build and maintain your own safehouse at the Wolf’s Head Inn in the Wicklow Mountains

Become the thing that even nightmares fear.

About William Brown

William Brown was born in Ireland. He is the author of two previous Choice of Games titles: The Mysteries of Baroque, a Gothic horror story, and Cliffhanger: Challenger of Tomorrow, a pulp adventure yarn. He studied theology and Biblical studies at Trinity College Dublin, did a Master’s at Oxford University, and a PhD at Edinburgh University. He now teaches at a college in London.

* * * * *

About Choice of Games

Choice of Games LLC is dedicated to producing high-quality, text-based, multiple-choice games. Since 2009 they have produced over one hundred titles in-house, including Choice of the Dragon and Choice of Robots. Six of their recent titles have been nominated for the Nebula Award for Game Writing. They have also developed a simple scripting language for writing text-based games, ChoiceScript, which they make available to others for use in their projects, and they host games produced by other designers using ChoiceScript on their website. All of their games are available on the web at choiceofgames.com and on Steam. They also produce mobile versions of their games that can be played on iPhones, Android phones, and other smartphones.

About Paradox Interactive

The Paradox Interactive group includes development, publishing, and licensing of games and brands, consisting of a portfolio of more than 100 titles created both internally and by independent studios. Paradox owns an array of award-winning and top-selling brands including Cities: Skylines, Stellaris, Crusader Kings, Age of Wonders, and many more games available on PC and console platforms. Paradox is the owner of the World of Darkness IPs and is publishing Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines 2 on PC and consoles soon.

From the company’s start in 2004, Paradox has published its games worldwide, with top markets including the USA, UK, China, Germany, France, and Russia. Today, over four million gamers play a Paradox game each month with a global community reaching over ten million registered Paradox users. Paradox Interactive AB (publ)’s shares are listed on Nasdaq Stockholm First North Premier under ticker PDX. FNCA Sweden AB is the company’s Certified Adviser. For more information, please visit www.paradoxinteractive.com.

#vamily #worldofdarkness #vampire the masquerade #choice of games #choiceofgames #werewolftheapocalypse #hunterthereckoning

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moriartyluver · 10 months

Text

FALSE LOVERS CHAPTER XV

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

"I invited your parents." Albert said as he sipped on his wine "They are our family, after all."

(Name) looked at him ,dumbfounded, then sat down with her head in her hands.

Her parents were to visit the UK for political reasons, as usual, and Albert had foolishly invited them to stay at their London manor for a day or two without consulting either her or William, who was sat beside (name), rubbing her shoulder sympathetically.

'It's as if he wants us to get found out..' (name) thought with a sigh

"When are they due to arrive?" William asked. He had no issue with (name)'s parents, in fact he was rather fond of them, but this was all so sudden..

Albert took another sip of his wine "Friday..they'll probably only be here for two days and one night, don't fret."

"Well you clearly have no worries regarding anything," (name) sweat dropped. "You do understand that there's a possibility our schemes will be unearthed..I suspect mother is already on to me regarding the contract marriage..father is still blinded by the fact he has the perfect 'son-in-law' and an excellent heir to the title of Grand Duke.."

In 19th century Britain, if you were the 'spare' child in the nobility who wouldn't inherit a proper title (such as Duke, Marquis, Earl, Viscount, Baron etc.) the most suitable option to secure a good status would be to marry someone with one of those titles, or an heir to one. This applied especially for spare sons who usually would marry female heirs to titles in order to easily gain a title. This would mean that his bloodline would then become one with a higher title, the main issue was, however, that some of these women could be especially picky when choosing their husbands.

When the marriage between (name) and William was first announced, many had assumed that William was simply securing himself, not one, but two titles. (Name) was the only eligible heir to her Uncle ,the Marquis and her parent's grand dukedom. If William were to marry her, he would secure two titles for his future offspring.

Of course, we all know William was not interested in these titles at all. If he had to inherit them, he would, but he would much rather not. Titles meant nothing to him, the aristocracy was what he was fighting against.

In order to prevent people from suspecting this was a contract marriage, (name), Albert and William all sought to fuel gossip of the two being in a romantic affair prior to their marriage (not one of scandal though, despite the rumours that some nobles had scene (name) and William engaging in intimate acts in various balconies or empty rooms at balls) and it had surprisingly worked

Before (name) was engaged, she had suffered at the hands of many of these unfortunate 'spares' who all wanted to claim the title of future Marquis and Grand Duke. Thankfully, her marriage to William had temporarily shook them off for a while. She still had noblemen acting flirtatiously with her, in fact, while on the Noahatic, she had almost fought a nobleman who was flirting with her whilst yelling that she was married in her drunken state. That was why Albert had to be rid of her and hand her over to poor William, who was still not recovered.

"We must prepare swiftly then." Louis chimed in "we only have a couple of days."

She trailed off as she puts finger to her chin in deep thought "In that case..I'll have to borrow some staff from one of the Marquis's estates..preferably one that isn't used frequently...and we will have to pause any missions for a while..thankfully my parents aren't incredibly full of themselves like most aristocrats, but they aren't exactly friendly with servants either.." she sighed and threw her head back against her chair "this is going to be exhausting.."

"How was your trip for your anniversary marking two years of marriage?" The grand duchess asked politely.

'What anniversary-' (name) thought 'oh'

William and (name) had gotten married on the 25th of august two years ago. The Noahatic trip was only a couple of weeks before that. She had wrote in her letters to her parents, who found it odd that she even wanted to go on a ship considering how seasick she could get, that it was an early anniversary celebration. That way, she wouldn't have to celebrate their wedding anniversary when it would come around next week. Was she a bad wife for forgetting, she wondered.

Friday had arrived quickly and (name) was currently sat in the lounge, opposite the grand duke and duchess, having tea with her parents who had just arrived at the London manor. William was currently at Durham for a lecture and shortly would be back. Louis was overseeing the work of the servants that (name) had had transferred to their manor and Albert was currently working too.

(Name) looked over to Moran, who was acting as a head butler, stood by the side. She called for him to pour more tea as she tried to come up with a response.

She put on a smile "It was wonderful—"

"Even after the tragedy that had occurred?" (Mother's name) asked skeptically.

(Name) wanted to answer that it had made the cruise trip even better, but of course, that was out of the question.

She smiled, although it seemed to be one of irritation. "Oh, that was rather unfortunate. The poor commoner.." she trailed off

She could practically feel her mothers curious gaze pierce through her. (Name) had never wanted William to be more at her side than right that moment. Her father took a sip of tea with a smile as Moran disappeared elsewhere.

"Commoner? That's quite the demeaning term. I had thought I nurtured you with greater refinement than to employ such language," The grand duchess frowned as (name) felt fear course through her. There was not a single person on earth this killer was afraid off apart from her overly intelligent mother "As far as I'm aware, he was an innocent man who didn't deserve for his life to be taken"

(Name) internally cursed herself. She had gotten so nervous about being found out that she had started mixing her up her various personas.

'Please William, save me from mother's perceptiveness.'

"R-Right...he was an innocent man.." the (hair colour)-ette said with a nervous smile

"His lordship has arrived," Moran said as he entered the room with William.

(Name) could've sworn she shed a tear of joy. She had never been more happy to see him. If anyone could distract her parents, he could.

"Welcome back, my dear." (Name) smiled as if she was being held hostage. William returned her panicked smile with a genuine one and greeted her parents

"It's an honour to see you again, your graces." He bowed his head before he was interrupted by a hearty laugh.

"William, you are our son in law, please drop the formalities." The grand duke had finally said after his uncharacteristic smile. He stood up to squeeze the professor in a hug while (name) couldn't tell whether she was concerned or amused. "Speaking off, didn't we get them a few gifts for their anniversary?"

"A few..?" (Name) raised a brow. She was certainly skeptical of that. They were her parents, and the tendency to give extravagant gifts seemed to run in the family.

The grand duchess clapped her hands as if prompting something. "We understand your anniversary will be next week, but unfortunately we won't be there to attend, forgive us." One of the servants that the grand duke and duchess had brought with them held a basket and handed it to (name) and William (who eventually escaped the grand dukes grasp) it had holes on the lid and (name) could hear breathing inside.

'Don't tell me—'

"We decided it would be a nice idea to get you this particular present, along with a few other gifts," the grand duke grinned as (name) deadpanned.

"A..A cat...?" (Name) said as William opened the basket and peered inside. There was a sleeping kitten inside with the softest looking white fur. It slowly woke up and opened its eyes to reveal the prettiest blue eyes.

"Considering an heir has yet to be produced," The grand duchess said as she sipper her tea "We thought it would be best if we give you a kitten to treat as a though it were your own child. Perhaps it will prepare you for parenthood"

Ah, the reminder of an heir had come again. It was her responsibility to produce one by the time she became the grand duchess, but it was still a strange responsibility to bare. She wasn't even raised to be a grand duchess as a child. The grand dukedom wasn't initially meant to go to her before she was nine years of age, and then that happened and here she was. The only daughter and heir to the prestigious grand dukedom of the (last name) family.

(Name) picked up the kitten and placed it on her lap as she stroked it. "It's beautiful, thank you."

"He"

"I beg your pardon?"

"The cat. It's a male. We had in checked in advance to avoid any confusion." The grand duchess explained. "We have other gifts but they can be dealt with later on."

The day had went on and night had fallen, just in time for a family dinner with the three Moriarty brothers, (name) and her parents. The servants had been doing a surprisingly good job and thanks to Louis overlooking everything, it was all well.

"Has (name) been treating you well, William? We like to think we raised her well but I'm afraid she can be rather occupied with other matters." The grand duke asked William who was sat beside his wife

The grand duchess nodded in agreement "She's always been quite work oriented and ambitious."

"Indeed she has.." he trailed off with a polite smile. He could feel (name) kick him in the shin from beneath the table "But it's quite an endearing quality. After all, we wouldn't have been as close if she wasn't as competitive or ambitious—"

(Name) scowled at him then put on an amused expression "I fear you may be overestimating me, dear. You were equally as competitive."

"Only because I desired your attention so desperately~" he smirked back as he held her hand in his own "You, on the other hand, we're glad to have someone with the capability to rival your intelligence."

"And yet you still were second to me on multiple occasions."

"I could say the exact same to you, darling."

Albert and Louis exchanged a knowing look with a frustrated sigh. Yes, they were both the perfect partners in crime but acting as romantic partners amongst others seemed to be difficult for both (name) and William. (Fathers name) smiled at his wife like a teenager in awe of the fondness his daughter and son in law shared.

"Young love is like a breath of fresh air, isn't it (mothers name)" he said. His wife nodded then looked as if she had just remembered something

"Father has a hidden interest for romance novels." (Name) laughed as the rest of the table did the same.

"Speaking of," (mothers name) started "When we went to visit Marquis (last name), he had said something rather strange.."

(Name) looked at her mother in surprise "you visited uncle?"

"Only briefly. He is my younger brother after all, so it's only natural we visit," her father explained.

"He mentioned something about you courting someone," The grand duchess said as their dinner plates were taken away " to quote, he had said 'I'm glad she has finally rid herself of her feelings for that Theodore Arden boy.'"

William's red eyes widened as his grip on his wife's hand tightened. He had heard the name once although it didn't seem to connect well to the current scenario.

"Were you courting him, (name)?" Her father asked "Forgive me if this seems tactless—"

"We were only courting for a short while. No longer than four months when I first arrived in England. I believe I was nearly seventeen years of age at the time." (Name) said. Her expression had darkened yet she still kept up her smiling facade. "He had done me a favour once and then after a while, we parted ways."

"Did you meet him in university?"

The three Moriarty brothers remained silent. They could feel the tone in her voice instantly shift and her eyes seemed to lose their shine.

"Only briefly. He was quite a bit older than I and .." she paused "I believe we didn't work well together. We weren't a match. I would've informed you had the courtship been promising and the possibility of engagement was there."

"How much older?" The duchess asked with concern. Despite wanting her daughter to be able to settle down, yet remain an intelligent individual, she would never wish her daughter to marry someone generations older than her.

"When we had first met, he was 20 years old but not in any of my classes despite me having a head start." (Name) said nonchalantly "I think I didn't like him nearly as much he liked me. We met outside of school but I grew tired of him rather quickly."

"That's is quite older...is he faring well today?" (Fathers name) asked "From the way (uncles name) spoke of him, he didn't seem pleasant and that is certainly saying something."

"He..he..Um..he passed away," The room instantly went quiet. Josephine, who was taking plates away, nearly dropped them in surprise "A few days following our courtship, he died.." (name) stood up, removing her hand from William's "Please excuse me."

She had left out of the door and disappeared elsewhere into the night whilst the others tried to change the subject. That didn't seem to work though, so the grand duchess finally addressed the situation.

"Well that was tactless of us, (fathers name). We're (home country)'s greatest strategists and we couldn't even speak to our own daughter." She said as she looked at him. The man seemed to be looking quite guilty and regretful "She seemed upset despite not showing it...she's been like that for god knows how long since (brothers name)'s passing."

"(Brothers name)?" William repeated. He had heard that name before when (name) was drunk.

"She didn't tell you...?" The grand duchess raised a brow in surprise "My apologies, I seem to have said too much. (Name) will tell you when she's ready to"

Later that evening, the grand duke and duchess as well as Louis and Albert had all retired to their bedchambers and William had left to his bedroom where (name) would also be sleeping with him in during her parents' visit. The ruling between them was the same as usual. William on the left side and (name) on the right with pillows between them as a barrier, although each time they had tried to, their entanglement in the mornings seemed to cause issues.

As William entered the room, he saw (name) lying on her stomach atop of the bed, reading a book with their new kitten sleeping in a basket beside the bed. Her face was the same as it was at dinner and in h the cans light, he noticed subtle bags under her eyes paired with dark circles.

"Good evening," (name) greeted, her eyes still fixated on the enticing pages.

William frowned and kneeled at her side, looking at the book she was reading. Pride and prejudice

"Don't judge me for my shift in tastes," (name) looked at William, sensing he was about to make some remark in regards to the book "Lady Sinclair recommended it to me."

"How did he die?" William asked abruptly

"Pardon…?"

"How did Theodore Arden die? I had seen you with him a few times but I hadn't acknowledged it properly," He was lying. He had seen the older man with (name) multiple times after the two first met. He hadn't really considered himself her friend at that point though so he didn't think he had the right to say anything. The pair were always socialising with people much older than them due to their advanced knowledge. "Although it does explain the multiple occasions you had left me suddenly in the middle of study sessions or chess matches."

"It's none of your concern." (Name) muttered "please don't inquire further."

William took the novel from her hand and shut it, placing it aside "We are meant to share our worries with one another, aren't we?" He said, taking her now empty hands to cup his cheeks "You told me that. Even if we do not harbour romantic feelings for one another, I am your husband and your are my wife. Lessen your burdens by sharing them with me."

(Name) didn't move her hands "I'm finding it very difficult to hate you right now." She smiled "You can be too nice to me for your own good...it's irritating."

"I'm sure your hatred for me is still intact, (name). And besides," he rested his own hands against hers, still holding his face in her hands. "What's more important is that you are well. Let me help you.."

His words hung in the air, full of unspoken emotions and undeniable tension.

She brought his face closer to hers, her thumb running against his cheek "Then rid me of my suffering, even for a moment..." she whispered against his lips "Allow me to be distracted.."

"Give me a chance to distract you.." William said, leaning closer towards her.

Their lips hovered, teasingly close, a magnetic pull urging them to bridge the gap and feel the temptation of the moment. The space between the closed, each heartbeat echoing the pulsating desire that drew them closer.

A satisfied hum reverberated against (name)'s lips, feeling William place his hands against her waist, causing her breath to hitch as she ran her fingers through his blond hair. He pressed his hand against the plush mattress of the bed before climbing onto it, deepening the kiss while (name) pulled him closer to her and rested her back onto the bed.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, desperately bringing him closer, ignoring the tears threatening to spill from her (eye colour) eyes.

William was always attentive though. He brought his hand away from the side of her hip, slowly parting from the kiss with a soft groan as he wiped her tears away with a finger.

"You.." he spoke down to her. His face was flushed and his heart was still racing. "You didn't answer my question..."

(Name) averted her embarrassed gaze, then rubbed her eyes with her sleeve, growing damp with tears.

"I killed him."

A/N: didn't really like the pacing for this chapter tbh. It felt all over the place but imma blame my writers block. Also side note, she wasn't crying over Arden. She didn't like that mf at all and probably had no regrets about killing him and his family lol. More on her backstory next chapter because this whole chapter actually had me wanting to die. Also sorry about the crappy kiss scene. I cant write anything remotely romantic because I've never been in a relationship before lol

#moriarty the patriot #william james moriarty #william moriarty #william moriarty x reader #—false lovers 💋#mtp william #yuukoku no moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader

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