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#brothers of the palazzo

empirearchives · 29 days

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Jérôme all grown up during his Italy years

Portrait of Girolamo Bonaparte, by Pietro Benvenuti

The last of Napoleon’s brothers, born in [1784], Girolamo was a carefree and frivolous young man, often lacking prudence and moderation, who led a life of entertainment. In 1807 he married Catherine, daughter of King Frederick I of Württemberg, and was made king of Westphalia by his brother. After the fall of Napoleon, he left France to reside first in Vienna then in Trieste, Rome and Porto San Giorgio in the Marche. A widower since 1835, in 1840 he secretly married an Italian noblewoman, Giustina Pecori-Suárez (1811–1903), in Florence. Returning to Paris in 1848, he was appointed governor general of the Hôtel des Invalides, then Marshal of France in 1850, president of the Senate in 1851 and was reinstated with the title and honors of Imperial Prince in 1852. He died in 1860; his tomb is located in the cathedral of Saint Louis des Invalides next to Napoleon’s large sarcophagus.

(Source)

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ladystarksneedle · 21 days

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Do you have any art/painting recommendation which are very teen aegon coded

From top left: (descriptions are from left to right side)

Detail of frescoes in the Hall of the Months, Palazzo Schifanoia,

Portrait of Guiliano De Medici by Benozzo di Lese di Sandro Gozzoli

Carlo Crivelli catalogue raisonné, 1975 Bovero

Portrait of a Young Man Cosmè Tura (Cosimo di Domenico di Bonaventura)

Boy with Wine Glass and Flute Jacob Gerritszoon[a] Cuyp or Cuijp 1652

Rembrandt van Rijn, Man with a Hawk, 1643

A late portrait of the two sons of the 3rd Duke of Lennox, Lord John Stuart and his Brother, Lord Bernard Stuart; Anthony van Dyck.

Portrait of two brothers by Henri Gascar (1635 –1701)

#the greens as art #aegon ii targaryen #aegon as art #aegon and aemond #the targtowers #asks

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volterran-wine · 7 months

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Are the Romanians the ones who spread the rumour about the Queens being stuck in the tower?

𝐂𝐚𝐢𝐮𝐬: ... Oh I have not forgot how it was our dear guests who started the rumours about how me and Aro treat our spouses. Personally, I believe The Whore and The Oaf has taken advantage of our hospitality for long enough.

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬: Caius,-

𝐂𝐚𝐢𝐮𝐬: Marcus,-

𝐕𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐫: Seeing sweet Athenodora out and about nearly makes my stone cold heart beat once more, you must be doing something correctly after millennia of chasing shadowy beasts up the wall.

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐟𝐚𝐧: As if he can keep his wife happy.

𝐂𝐚𝐢𝐮𝐬: ... ... ...

𝐀𝐫𝐨: Seeing as though my brother has now chased our dear Romanian neighbours out of the palazzo, it it is time for this little event to come to an end. I entrust you all into Nathalie's capable hands once more.

— 𝐶𝑎𝑖𝑢𝑠, 𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑐𝑢𝑠, 𝑆𝑡𝑒𝑓𝑎𝑛, 𝑉𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑟 & 𝐴𝑟𝑜

#1500 Years with VolterranWine #Caius Volturi #Marcus Volturi #Vladimir Al Daci #Stefan Al Daci #Aro Volturi #In true Caius fashion he ends another VolterranWine event

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copperbadge · 10 months

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In Re: Carlo and Pride, I imagine Caleb's reaction to Galia's Big Shiny Parade will be something along the lines of "Good for them! Still not going!!!!!!!" ?

AHAHAHA yeah, I mean -- I think Caleb is softening a little towards Galia, because he's reached a point where he kind of knows who he is and who he wants to be, and he's comfortable with that, has a strong support network, a loving partner, social capital. But Fons-Askaz is his home, and if anything his conversation with Michaelis, where Michaelis is like "But you live, eat, teach, pay taxes here...you are Shivadh in any way that matters" affirmed that Galia is not somewhere he particularly wants or needs to return to.

There is a short story, not completed yet because I'm not sure where all it's going, where Caleb writes a song about Duke Tomas and drops it on Photogram, and it goes viral:

The app popped up the Photogram account of the Duchessa's younger brother, Lord Milo Ansevali, secretary to the duchy. His latest post was a video titled Reaction To 'Punching Down' by Caleb Canto.

Ah, shit.

Caleb sighed and clicked on it.

Ansevali had an earbud in one ear, and a mug of steaming tea in one hand, the teabag's tag dangling visibly. As the intro to Caleb's latest song came on over the video, he nodded his head in time, then set down the mug to start shoulder-dancing to it; when Caleb hit the first chorus, where the song got pretty intense pretty quickly, the camera began to shake wildly as Lord Milo enthusiastically rocked out. Caleb watched, fascinated, as one of the most powerful men in Galia began to headbang blurrily.

The chorus came to an end and the camera went still; Ansevali, visibly breathing heavily, went still again as well, only nodding his head gently. As the song hit the line Even his kids don't want his job, he delicately lifted his mug to his mouth and sipped, and the screen went black.

In the notes, he'd pinned a comment by the official Photogram of the Duchess of the Horse of the House of Galia, his older sister, Duchessa Ofelia. In Italian, it read How much would we need to pay Caleb Canto to move back to Galia?

Lord Milo had replied, Why pay him to move back? He's making our point for us from the Ask.

Caleb, who was not especially good at Photogram but was constantly around people who were, considered what Noah or Jerry would say if they were pretending to be him on his Photogram, as they sometimes had in the past. Then he opened the reply thread and tapped out, With affection for the Duchess from an Abdicaristo, I can't leave Askazer-Shivadlakia. My first love is the sea.

("Abdicaristo/a/e" is the term for a supporter of the political movement to democratize Galia and for Ofelia to abdicate the throne in favor of a parliamentary government. Ofelia is the head of the movement, which Caleb speculates makes life in the Palazzo Cavallo very exciting.)

#shivadhverse

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shripscapi · 6 months

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oc lore? :)

hii um I do not talk abt them very publicly so I do not really know where to start but that being said I will try and share some basic info <3

here is an incomplete family tree. I’m so sane I’m so normal.

the house of farona is the ruling family of a fictional duchy in northern italy in the early 16th century. after the duke niccolò ii dies, his son francesco takes over which is where the conflicts start.

the only characters that I have posted on this account are andrea and lucia (who is not in this tree bc she is unrelated). but I will share a little abt some others too…

Andrea is the second son of his household, and nephew of the duke. he was fostered alongside his cousins at a fairly young age so they very much see each other as brothers. he is away in spain when his uncle dies, and returns at francesco’s behest to help him get things under control early in his reign. his hobbies include physical violence and making the women in his life miserable. he also likes math.

Antonia is the duke’s eldest daughter and already a widow. her marriage was short-lived and she does not talk about it. as soon as her husband died she packed her things and moved back home. she is not very personable and does not often leave her rooms but she enjoys more freedoms than her sisters as a widow. she (correctly) suspects that Francesco and Andrea are looking to (re-)marry her and her sisters off to shore up political alliances. She went quietly when her dad did it, but she is not planning on doing so for her brother. Lucia is primarily her maid.

Francesco is pretty charismatic, but as far as ruling he is mostly just superficially trying to impersonate his father. he relies heavily on Andrea’s advice (which is not bad advice, IF your goal is to be a tyrant). He does not really enjoy ruling, and is happy to leave the boring stuff to others when he can.

Isabella is the fun one <3 a little too fun for the catholic church. She is very extroverted and sweet. Andrea murders her boytoy and afterward things are not looking good for her.

Lucia is the other one I have posted art of. here is a sketch of her and her mother <3 she has her own extended supporting cast but they are not all drawn. she is my angle she can do no wrong despite all the wrongdoings

Lucia was raised in the palazzo kitchens and basements. the safest place for a baby to be… near open flames :) her mother was Antonia’s nursemaid as a babby, and when she grew up, Lucia became Antonia’s maidservant. She is a bit of a sneak and a gossip, but for her it’s just entertainment. She has a bit of history with Andrea from before he left for Spain, and when he comes back it is a very hard lesson that he is not the same person he was when he left. Antonia uses her to hear about the goings on in the palazzo. she does NOT support women she is in it for herself first and foremost.

sorry this was long! I tried and failed to keep it very concise. and double sorry if I get embarrassed and delete this <3

#my ocs #asks

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teecupangel · 11 months

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What if Desmond was a bunny? And he met his ancestors when they were just kids, what do you think would happen?

Bunnies for reference

Me: Look at all the cute bunnies aaawwww. Look how cute they are and so precious.

Also me: Let’s add angst into this. 𓁹‿𓁹

Altaïr:

This would be quite similar to Pigeon!Desmond set up where Altaïr finds a dirty and maybe limping bunny as an eleven year old who just lost his father.

Al Mualim lets him keep the bunny because he’s not heartless but tells Altaïr that the bunny would be his responsibility.

Desmond grows up being spoiled rotten by Altaïr and Al Mualim thinks Altaïr is trying to ignore his grief by focusing on caring for something that is wholly dependent on him. Desmond also thinks that but he’s okay with it because it makes Altaïr happy.

Desmond never liked Abbas even when he and Altaïr were friends so after their falling out, Abbas usually threatens to skin and cook Desmond.

Desmond knows he’s weak and couldn’t really be all that helpful but he still makes a fuss until Altaïr takes him to wherever his mission takes him. He usually just makes Desmond stay in the bureau though and Desmond is fine with that compromise.

Malik hides it but he gives Desmond too much food whenever he’s left in the bureau as well.

Ezio:

Ezio finds him and helps him when he was about to drown and he takes him back to the Palazzo where Maria fusses over how dirty and wet he was.

Desmond wanted to stay with Ezio but Ezio actually gave him to Petruccio as a gift. Desmond never tried to run away from Petruccio because Ezio told his little brother “This way you’ll always have a friend with you”

Because Desmond is just a bunny, he couldn’t do anything to protect Petruccio when the guards came. He tried to get in the way but he was simply kicked and he hit his back against the wall. Ezio was the one who finds him when he returned home.

When Ezio returned after failing to save his father and brothers, Desmond was waiting by the doorway for Ezio. Ezio sees him and assumes he was waiting for Petruccio, making him fall to his knees and finally cry as he begged Desmond to forgive him for being weak. Desmond knows that Ezio isn’t really talking to him, that he’s trying to beg forgiveness from his father and brothers so he just rubs his head against Ezio’s hand to try and comfort him.

Ratonhnhaké:ton:

Ratonhnhaké:ton finds Desmond the bunny while he’s stuck in a trap. For a few brief seconds, he was afraid that Ratonhnhaké:ton would take him and cook him because he was a hunter but Ratonhnhaké:ton just helped him out of the trap and let him go.

Afterward, Desmond follows Ratonhnhaké:ton but always tries to hide whenever Ratonhnhaké:ton looks in his direction. It doesn’t really do anything and Ratonhnhaké:ton ends up grabbing him and bringing him to the village.

He asked his mother if they could keep Desmond as a pet and Kaniehtí:io is amused but agrees.

The day the village is burned down, Desmond tries to stay behind to find a way to help Kaniehtí:io. In the end, he failed and all he could do was watch as Ratonhnhaké:ton hold him tightly as they both watch the village burn.

Desmond is usually left in the homestead and Achilles always looked at him with a frown but Desmond knew that the old man was a softie because he always gives Desmond the freshest vegetables for him to eat.

#i mean #it’s not as angsty as usual #but it’s still pretty angsty #i guess #desmond as a bunny #ask and answer #assassin's creed #desmond miles #altaïr ibn la'ahad #ezio auditore #ratonhnhaké:ton #connor kenway #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed

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mortaltempless · 3 months

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ours never knew peace, haladriel, soft-r

Artanis and Mairon meet in Valinor. Some things change, others...don't.

She was sat, a lock of her hair twirled around a pale finger, on a chair next to the fading embers of the fireplace. Her thin shift was translucent in the fading light, and her face was serious in a way that Mairon had become accustomed to of late.

“You look like you’re deciding the fate of nations,” he prodded from the doorway. Artanis looked up at him and smiled weakly.

“It has been a long day.”

He hummed in agreement as he came into her chamber and sat in the opposite chair. They had hardly seen each other for weeks, Artanis occupied with affairs far from Tirion. Even before that, his lover had been distant, less present than what he was used to.

Mairon had spent her absence, not stewing, exactly, but rather contemplating.

Artanis did not make a habit of involving him in her family affairs, so yes.

It had taken him a while to understand.

“I saw your uncle today,” he told her, his voice filled with irony. Artanis played it off, offering a polite hum before turning her eyes rapidly to the fireplace.

Mairon snorted.

“Did he look well?”

If he did not know his lover as well as he did, he would assume she was sincere in her question--a dutiful niece, asking after her brilliant uncle to the maia who perhaps saw him the most.

Mairon raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“He was considerably more talkative than you,” he replied. Artanis looked away again, staring once more into the remnants of her fireplace.

He sighed.

Of course he knew of Artanis’ enmity towards Feänor. Every soul in Valinor was aware of the dissent in the Noldorian ranks, and they had all long since made their decisions on who was the wronged party.

Few sided with the prideful princess.

“Aren’t you going to ask what he had to say?” he asked pleasantly. Finally, her eyes narrowed at him. Good, she was unwilling to be goaded.

He had missed her suspicion of him. He might love her cries of pleasure, relish in her confidence in him, but part of Mairon missed the way she saw so little value in Aulë’s favourite servant. Getting under her skin was fun.

He leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees. With a small flick of his wrist, the fire returned to life again. He grinned at her, but Artanis simply rolled her eyes at his theatricality.

“Apparently he has renovation plans for your family’s beach palazzo,” he prodded. “New wing to the main building, perhaps a new lick of paint…”

He paused for dramatic effect.

“A new name on the deed,” he finished. Artanis stretched her legs before her in a feigned comfort.

Yes, it had taken him a while to ascertain why, exactly, she had been so distracted lately. Why she insisted on being away so often, refusing to let him in to see her even in the dead of night when he knew no spying eyes were watching him enter her chamber.

But he knew now.

Fe��nor cared little for leisure, but he loved reminding his brother who their family’s legacy belonged to.

Mairon knew and cared little about how the elf-smith had teased the title for the palazzo from Finarfin’s grip, but he was aware the home held considerable value for Artanis.

Aegnor taught me to swim there. It holds good memories, and I want to go, she told him years ago on a night much like this one. Except, then she’d been naked and curled into his shoulder, her lips on his neck promising she’d return from the palazzo to him following her family’s absurd festival.

“You could have told me,” he said softly. Artanis sighed, standing and moving gracefully towards him. She draped herself in his lap, her legs softly bracketing his as his arms came around her.

“It would have done little. My uncle is…a unique figure among our people,” she replied, a carefully hidden hurt creeping into her voice. Mairon’s hand smoothed down her back. He did not enjoy seeing her dejected.

Artanis was not meant to live in her uncle’s shadow. Not when her mind was as sharp, and her spirit so much lighter than the smith’s.

But she was right, Feänor was untouchable.

“Perhaps,” the maia began, but then caught himself. Artanis was not the only one who kept secrets, and he knew her enough to understand why she would never consent to even listen to the one who called to him in the shadows.

Still, his lover prodded his shoulder.

“What?”

“Perhaps there are other ways to destroy an elf without a physical harm coming to him,” he finished.

The words between them were barely spoken now, just filaments of language lying between their bodies like sticky spider webs.

Artanis considered.

“What do you mean?” she asked softly, her lips careful on his ear and his thumbs rubbing circles into her thigh.

“Well, what makes your uncle great?”

Artanis paused and thought, her brow furrowing. Mairon pressed a light kiss to her jaw before her blue eyes flicked to his.

“His influence with grandfather,” she began and wound her arms around his neck, adjusting their bodies so their hips were flushed together. “and his genius.”

Mairon nodded, moving his hand under her shift so he could feel the bare skin of her back. He kissed her, opening her lips softly with his tongue.

“What else?” he whispered against her once they parted. Artanis’ nimble fingers untied his own breeches, her soft hand reaching for his hardness as a small smirk appeared on her face.

“His skill as a smith,” she said, giving his cock a gentle pump. Mairon squinted at her teasing. She let out a breathy chuckle, putting her open mouth to the pulse point on his neck. “Well, you asked.”

Mairon patted her thigh, encouraging her to lift herself onto his cock. She let out a soft sigh as he entered her.

“You don’t need to kinslay to deprive him of that,” he told her as he rocked her forward, her nails entering his shoulder as she gripped him with a pleasurable hum.

“And then?” she whispered, her lips ghosting over his as she canted her hips in just the way he liked.

“He won’t have a thing left to his name,” Mairon promised. Artanis gasped in pleasure. “He will be no more than a man.”

She rode him more forcefully, her blindingly bright hair clasped between his fingers to steady her as she reached between her own legs.

“We will do this together?” she asked, her eyes pleading. He nodded silently.

“I will make enquiries,” he stuttered out, bucking his hips harshly up, causing Artanis to lose her rhythm. Her hiss was pleased, and she kissed him roughly, her hand spanning the front of his throat. “You are not the only one who would see the end of Feänor.”

#trop fic #galadriel x sauron #haladriel #my fic #corrupted in valinor au #i posted this on ao3 and then almost immediately deleted it #this is an experiment to see if tumblr will be more preferrable for my mental health lol #otp: bind yourself to me

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cadmusfly · 24 days

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Non Comprehensive List of the Nice Spanish Paintings That Mysteriously Ended Up in Marshal Soult's Collection

Sourced from the essay Seville's Artistic Heritage during the French Occupation in the book Manet/Velázquez: The French Taste for Spanish Painting, which can be downloaded for free on the Met's website which is frankly awesome but i wish someone OCRed their book

In 1852 at the sale of his collection, there were 109 paintings up for sale - 78 from the Seville School, including 15 Murillos and 15 Zurbaráns.

It's interesting that Soult wanted to legitimize his ownership of these paintings via receipts and official documentation - the biography of him I was machine translating talks about the king questioning his collection and him pulling out receipts for each painting. But, well, the essay puts it like this: "The existence of an official letter can be explained by Soult's desire to dress up in legal or formal terms what was in reality theft or extortion."

I might put excerpts from the essay in a different post, but for now, let's look at the list! Modern locations of the paintings are in parentheses, and I must say, for an essay critical of historical reappropriation of artwork, a lot of these artworks are still extant. Not a dig or anything, just an observation.

I do not condone extorting or stealing priceless Spanish artworks anyway

On with the show!

Murillo The Immaculate Conception (Museo Nacional del Prado, Madrid) Virgin and Child (Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool) Saint Elizabeth of Hungary Nursing the Sick (Church of the Hospital de la Caridad, Seville) Christ Healing the Paralytic at the Pool of Bethesda (National Gallery, London) The Return of the Prodigal Son (National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.) Abraham and the Three Angels (National Gallery Of Canada, Ottawa) The Liberation of Saint Peter (State Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg) Saint Junipero and the Pauper (Musée du Louvre, Paris) Saint Salvador de Horta and the Inquisitor Of Aragon (Musée Bonnat, Bayonne) Brother Julián de Alcalá and the Soul of Philip II (Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute, Williamstown, Mass.) The Angels' Kitchen (Musée du Louvre, Paris) The Dream Of the Patrician (Museo Nacional del Prado, Madrid) The Patrician John and His Wife (Museo Nacional del Prado, Madrid) The Triumph of the Eucharist (Lord Farringdon Collection, Buscot Park, Farringdon, England) Saint Augustine in Ecstasy [Not sourced from the above book, from a Christies auction actually]

Herrera the Elder The Israelites Receiving Manna (unknown/destroyed?) Moses Striking the Rock (unknown/destroyed?) The Marriage at Cana (unknown/destroyed?) The Multiplication of the Loaves and Fishes (Musée d'Amiens, destroyed in 1918) Last Communion of Saint Bonaventure (Musée du Louvre, Paris) Saint Basil Dictating His Doctrine (Musée du Louvre, Paris)

Zurbarán Saint Apollonia (Musée du Louvre, Paris) Saint Lucy Musée des Beaux-Arts, Chartres Saint Anthony Abbot (private collection, Madrid) Saint Lawrence (State Hermitage, St. Petersburg) Saint Bonaventure at the Council of Lyon (Musée du Louvre, Paris) Saint Bonaventure on His Bier (Musée du Louvre, Paris) The Apotheosis of Saint Thomas Aquinas (Museo de Bellas Artes, Seville) Saints Romanus and Barulas (Art Institute of Chicago) paintings of the archangel Gabriel and Saint Agatha (both Musée de Montpellier)

Cano Saint John with the Poisoned Chalice and Saint James the Apostle (both Musée du Louvre, Paris) Saint John Giving Communion to the Virgin (Palazzo Bianco, Genoa) Saint John's Vision Of God (John and Mable Ringling Museum Of Art, Sarasota) Charity and Faith (present location unknown; 1852 Soult sale) Saint Agnes (destroyed in fire in the Staatliche Museen, Berlin)

Uncertain source, thought to be Murillo at the time A Resting Virgin (usually identified as The Holy Family with the Infant Saint John the Baptist, Wallace Collection London) The Death Of Abel Saint Peter Saint Paul

Other artists in his collection whose specific works weren't named Sebastiån de Llanos Valdés Pedro de Camprobin José Antolinez Sebastiån Gomez

#jean-de-dieu soult #jean de dieu soult #napoleon's marshals #napoleonic wars #napoleonic era #cad rambles about dead frenchmen on main #cadmus rambles

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8iunie · 1 year

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Damiano with his brother, Jacopo | Mårried in a RUSH! | Palazzo Brancaccio | Rome, Italy | 19.01.2023

📸 Jacopo David (poppodium)

#måneskin #maneskin #damiano david #jacopo david #family #gucciano #black & white #married in a rush!#january 2023 #italy: rome #my posts 💫

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wilygryphon · 8 months

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#kh4challenge Day 2: A Character You'd Want to Cameo

Oswald the Lucky Rabbit would be a great inclusion to the KH series. He could serve as an interesting foil to his "brother" Mickey. He could even partner with Sora in a way that parallels Mickey's relationship with Riku (sunshine and gloom/cynic but reversed between the pairs) while Sora is separated from his friends.

I thought about creating a Keyblade that would parallel the Star Seeker before I realized that Shooting Star works well for that.

Other characters I would like to see appear: Lilo Pelekai; Lightning Farron; Noctis (possibly with his retinue); Sion Barzahd would be a fun nod; Kefka Palazzo; Della Duck; Rumplestiltskin (Once Upon a Time).

#kh4challenge #kingdom hearts #kh #oswald the lucky rabbit #i have one more drawn but i have yet to go into it on illustrator #the rest i would probably do write-ups for #my art

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allegra-writes · 10 months

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"Of Love and Other (over the counter) Drugs"

Armand x Daniel Molloy

General audiences

Warnings: Non graphic mention of child death. The rest is just fluff and Armand being weird (and we love him for it).

Daniel catches the flu. Armand freaks out... And then discovers the wonders of modern medicine.

MY MASTERLIST

Armand knew something was wrong as soon as he entered the building. It wasn’t abnormal for him to find his Daniel unconscious, these days he was often still asleep when Armand showed up and it fell on the vampire the task to wake his mortal lover up and get him ready for the night. But tonight, Daniel’s dreams felt disjointed and turbulent. Something wasn’t quite right with his human, and it made him uneasy. He didn’t bother with the elevator -fascinating contraption, really- choosing instead to take to the stairs at full vampire speed, arriving at his beloved’s door between one of his precious, if too rapid, heartbeats and the next. He made quick work of the lock, he had no time or patience for keys and even less to use his gift on it, sheer brute vampire strength was faster, he could have it replaced later. Or move his lover to another apartment, that was of no consequence to him, no, what mattered was getting to his Daniel on time.

He did, of course, and his worriment was proved well-founded, even if the usual culprits were not at fault this time, Daniel was not lying on his bed in a drunken stupor or in a poodle of his own vomit after overindulging in the psychotropic and stimulating substances he enjoyed so much. Armand wished that were the case, as he examined his lover’s body, checked and double-checked his labored breathing, his accelerated pulse, his overheated skin, and his reddened, dry cheeks.

Daniel was sick. Daniel was sick, and feverish, and Armand was trying with everything he had not to lose his composure, as his darling boy’s eyes, those stunning violet eyes he found himself, without meaning to, unable to live without opened and tried to fix on him through the haze of his febrile disease.

“Adhmand?"

"Daniel" Armand hoped his face reflected none of the turmoil he was feeling, "You are ill, but don't you worry. I will find you the best physician in the city and bring him over. You shall want for nothing, everything you need to make a haste recovery-"

"Waith, waith" Daniel interrupted, frowning, "Physician? You mean a doctor?"

"Yes, Daniel, a doctor" Armand replied a little impatiently, already far away. Like, two miles away, at the highly interesting medical research facility all made of glass and metal, undoubtedly crawling with men of science, a couple of which were bound to be useful for his beloved’s predicament. "Fret not, my love, I will fetch you one right now"

"I don'th need a doctodh, boss" The boy insisted, not particularly convincingly, given the fact he was trying and failing to sit up on the messy bed, "Idh's justh the flu. Nothing sedhious"

Was the boy lying to him? Trying to comfort him ? He knew for a fact the flu was serious, and could still remember back when he was human, how the flu had killed two of the boys, two of his brothers at the palazzo. Boys that were well cared for, healthier, and stronger than Daniel probably was. The disease had consumed the youngling in a week, he dreaded to think what it could do to his fragile Daniel.

But no, Armand could find no sign of deception inside Daniel’s mind, only vague childhood recollections of a foul-tasting green liquid and warm hugs.

“You need medicine” Armand correctly concluded. His sick human tried to nod, a bad idea that prompted a new wave of dizziness to topple him over.

“I need Nyquil” He moaned from the pitiful heap he fell on the bed, “and soup. Chicken soup. Take out” He added before Armand could open his mouth, “I wanth take out. You’th still banned fhom the kidchen”

Armand wasn’t pouting, he was much too dignified for that, when he turned around and left without a word to do his lover’s bidding. He did not understand why Daniel was being so precious, anyway, it wasn’t like Armand was suggesting making the medicine himself. He was not delusional, he knew his education was lacking in that regard: Venice had been a paradise, a luminary for the arts, but not for the sciences. And yes, he might have had chefs making all of his meals back then but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be able to cook. Probably. He preferred to be, as Daniel so delightfully had put it, a free spirit in the kitchen, but he could follow a recipe well enough. If he tried. Presumably.

He was still ruminating about these things when he spotted a store emblazoned with two snakes entwined around a wand inside a green cross, a symbol he recognized as belonging to pharmacies, this century's version of the apothecary’s. With a faint sensation of pride in himself for having located it so easily, he entered.

It was nothing like an apothecary’s shop.

Inside the brightly lit - with those ghastly fluorescents that made him look like the animated corpse he was- store there were corridors with rows upon rows of multicolored boxes, bottles, and packages, filled with mysterious substances. He could smell the stench of chemicals even through their containers. The various goods were apparently organized by function in a practical if most unaesthetic way, the signs hanging above each island indicating what could be found on those shelves. He was most intrigued by the islands labeled as “Sleeping aid” and “Sexual health” but he could not dwell, he was a man on a mission. It wasn’t hard to locate the blue box with a picture of a green bottle that announced in big white letters the name of the medicine he was looking for, but doubt crept in. Yes, NyQuill was the medicine Daniel had requested, and his memories had indicated the green one was the one he was thinking of, but there was a red cherry-flavored one on display as a brand new improved version. He took one of those as well, if only to give his lover the choice. He knew from the memories the green one tasted absolutely disgusting. There were also several other brands, particularly that of the Benydil one, the smiling faces that undoubtedly represented a happy family on the box catching Armand’s attention. Daniel craved that, the comfort of his mother's tender caring, Armand could see as much in his mind. He decided to grab that one too.

And the pills and gelatin capsules too, if only to take home and take them apart, he was curious to see if the innards were made of liquid or if the capsules were made of gelatin through and through. Truly, human ingenuity had no limits, such novel ways to ingest the unpleasant remedies in less troublesome ways to make the experience as bearable as possible. Surely Daniel would be amenable to try the different substances in order to find the one that worked best in terms of both convenience and results.

Checking out was an experience of it’s own, the cashier, a bitter middle-aged man, disliked his skin color and was suspicious of the amount of medicines he was buying. That was usually the way with people like that, even when he had Daniel accompanying him, maybe especially then. They always assumed Armand was the one abusing substances instead of him. He didn’t care enough to do anything about it most the times, the occasional exception was made for feeding when he was feeling particularly uncharitable or hungry. This time, however, the man was keeping him from getting to Daniel, so Armand got inside his mind and endeared the man to him, using his most innocent, most human closed-lipped smile to him.

“My spouse is ill for the first time. I might be a little…”

“Anxious?” The cashier finished for him. Armand was going to go for overzealous but he accepted it. “I understand, it can be scary when the missus gets sick” There was an image in his mind of a sink full of dirty dishes, an untidy house and screaming children as some poor woman languished in the background. Armand decided maybe he was a little hungry after all. “You will need something to check her temperature. Do you have a thermometer?”

By the time he was done, Armand had a variety of thermometers, the most interesting one being the brand-new, high-tech infrared ear thermometer, a room humidifier device, and a state-of-the-art nebulizer. The cashier thought he had pretty much scammed him, little did he know if it wasn’t for his lack of time, Armand would have bought the entire drugstore simply to satisfy his curiosity. But alas, Daniel was in a much too delicate state for him to feel comfortable leaving him alone for such a long period of time, so it could not be.

Next stop was the restaurant, so he could get Daniel his chicken soup, and he knew exactly where to go to get it. His Daniel was a creature of habit, and in the three months they had lived in Brooklyn so far, there was one place Daniel had eaten at more than everywhere else combined: A little hole in the wall, Chinese-american restaurant called The Dumpling Den. Armand couldn’t say he got the appeal, the place was gaudy, the wooden furniture worn out, the cutlery tarnished and the salon badly lit, the only sources of light being the hundreds upon hundreds of fairy lights wrapped inside tiny fake red paper lanterns. However, Daniel thought the place was charming, and the greasy food, delicious, and whatever Daniel wanted, no matter how absurd, Armand got it for him, so into the small venue he went, straight to the counter behind which, as always, a pretty girl with dark hair and almond eyes awaited to greet the costumers with a wide, white teethed smile.

“Oh, hi! Good evening Armand!” Startled a little at his sudden appearance in front of her, the girl scrambled her welcome. Her brain quickly dismissed it as her being tired and distracted, but Armand made a mental note at moving a little more slowly and make sure his pace was human. “No Daniel today?”

“Good evening, Jessie” He smiled sincerely, pleased at her mention of his lover. The girl had quickly figured out they were more than just roommates, but instead of being judgmental of their relationship, she thought they were the cutest couple she had ever seen.

Armand enjoyed to watch himself with Daniel through her eyes, liked to see the way Daniel zeroed all of his attention on him whenever he spoke as if Armand was the only being in the world. He liked to see the way his own face softened minutely, involuntarily, whenever his eyes fell on Daniel, as if just by gazing at him, Daniel could turn Armand a little more human. He liked to watch the way they mirrored each other, like two celestial bodies tidally locked, whenever one moved, the other spontaneously adjusted his position.

“Sadly, no. Daniel is ill at home, he seems to have caught the flu that’s been going around.”

Jessie nodded in understanding,

“That explains the ransacking of that poor drugstore” she joked, ponting at Armand’s numerous bags.

“I may have overreacted” He admitted, far from regretting it. “But that is the reason why I’m here, actually. Daniel wants some soup, and I remembered how much he loves your jīdàn yùmǐ gēng ” The immortal pronounced perfectly, making Jessie’s eyes widen in surprise.

“I’ll get some to go for you right away! But, if what you want is for him to get better and fast, what you need is our garlic ginger soup. Trust me, a couple bowls of that, and he’ll be up and about in no time”

Armand was only allowed to leave the restaurant once he was stocked with enough soup to feed to people for two days. The trip back home was a little troublesome thanks to all the stuff he was carrying. It would probably have been impossible to make altogether for someone who didn’t possess vampire strength. As it was, when Armand entered the apartment, Daniel was awake, sitting in a miserable mess on the couch.

“Whad thook you so long?”

Had Armand been a less dignified vampire, he would have rolled his eyes. Instead, he simply walked into the kitchen where he set his bags on the counter, took one of the soup containers and, for the first time ever, used the microwave oven for its intended purpose and warmed Daniel’s meal up. If a slight smell of burnt hair permeated the kitchen, well, Daniel’s nose was too stuffed for him to notice anyway.

“I’m not really that hungry” Daniel tried to excuse himself when Armand brought the soup to him, “Can I just get the NyQill?”

“The drugstore clerk I ate believed meds should not be taken with an empty stomach” The vampire declared. Daniel simply blinked, too dizzy and febrile to process everything in that sentence. Armand almost sighed, sitting down next to Daniel. Raising a spoon full of broth, he brought it to his lover’s face. “Open up” He commanded.

“You- you’dhe nod sedhious” Daniel sputtered. Armand simply stared at him, unblinking and unmoving, spoon still high in the air. Daniel did roll his eyes, but conceded with a reluctant “fine” before opening his mouth for Armand to drop the contents of the spoon inside.

With his cheeks burning with something else than the fever, he admitted,

“Hmm… this is acdually pwetthy good”

“Your friend Jessie suggested this particular dish when I told her you were sick. I’m glad I heeded her advice” And Armand really was, enjoying knowing that the rich flavors of the soup were managing to break through Daniel’s blocked sinuses. “You know, back when I was human in Venice, eastern medicine was far more advanced than European medicine?”

Daniel made an interested little hum as he swallowed the new spoonful Armand was feeding him, previous embarrassment already forgotten. Armand rarely talked about the past, and Daniel cherished every bit of information shared during those coveted moments jealously, that was the reason Armand brought this little fact up in the first place. He didn’t know when it had happened exactly, but Daniel’s happiness and well-being had become of the utmost importance to him.

“By 1564, Jiang was already well-known and its medicinal properties were heralded amongst the men of science of the time. I remember the time almost half of my brothers at the palazzo fell ill, and a doctor was called. A German man he was, so smart and mysterious. The younger kids were convinced he was a sorcerer…”

“Were you?” Daniel asked, eyes shining with something other than the fever. So eager his boy, so innocent. Armand decided to spare him the, more tragic, ending of his tale. He grinned, showing Daniel all his teeth, nothing innocent about that smile.

“No, not me. I had already seen the truly mysterious and unnatural, and I knew this man wasn’t it”

Before Daniel could question him some more, Armand put the plate aside and started unpacking the remaining bags under his lovingly exasperated stare.

“I rweally seth myself up, didn’d I?”

“That you did, my beloved” Confirmed the vampire, but selected only the NyQuill bottles for Daniel to choose from. Sensing the human’s hesitation, he delved into his mind to see the cause, finding himself rather touched when he realized the reason: Daniel didn’t want to take the medicine because it would make him sleep, and he didn’t want to waste the limited hours he could share with Armand.

“You seriously underestimate me, lover mine” Armand reassured him, “if you think something as inconsequential as human sleep can keep you from me”

Daniel shuddered at the possessiveness in Armand’s voice. The boy had always had too little self-preservation instinct for his own good.

“Now be good for me, and drink your medicine”

Making a conscious effort not to squirm, Daniel obeyed. He always did obey Armand in the end, would probably do anything his monster asked of him, as long as he used that low, dominant voice that never failed to make his knees tremble. Feeling the laser focus of Armand's crimson stare on the taut column of his neck as he threw his head back to swallow the cloyingly sweet syrup, Daniel wondered if he might have a medical kink and if Armand would be willing to explore the answer with him. After one look at the number of medical supplies his undead boyfriend had gotten, he decided his odds were pretty good.

Reading the direction Daniel’s thoughts had taken, Armand leaned in to place a frustratingly chaste kiss under the human's ear, on the spot where his jaw met his neck.

“Tomorrow, when you’re stronger, we’ll play. But for now, go to sleep, my beloved, resting assured I will be waiting for you on the other side”

Daniel, already drowsy, let himself be guided and manhandled until his head was resting on Armand’s lap, where he was lulled to sleep by Armand running his fingers through his curls, imitating perfectly the way her mother used to comfort him.

“Y’know” he somehow managed to get out between yawns, “I wanna thank you. I know justd… feedin’me youd blood would be easieth than taking cawe of me. But you didn’th. So thanks”

Armand froze. Daniel was right, a few drops of Armand’s blood would have been more than enough to heal Daniel in an instant, all the hustle and messiness of the night and of a snotty, febrile human easily avoidable. But Daniel was trying to get clean, refusing to even drink or consume any of the substances we liked to use for amusement, and it hadn’t even crossed Armand’s mind not to respect his will. This fragile, beautiful, brilliant, painfully candid boy whose life was but a fleeting, dazzling moment in the long, desolated night of eternity had somehow managed to wrap this wraith, this terrible, perverted creature that was Armand, tightly around his dainty little finger.

And he wasn’t even aware of it.

“Well, of course,” Armand finally whispered his reply to the already asleep human resting, so trusting, in his cold, dead arms, “I am your slave, Daniel”

And what a worthy master this love of him was…

Even as he started snoring and drooling all over his designer pants.

#armand x daniel molloy #the vampire armand #fluff #sick fic #fanfiction #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #the devil's minion #armandaniel

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the-apostates-martyr · 9 months

Text

"Oh, Amadeo, what a fright," sighed Marius that evening as he returned to his rooms. It was a cool, rainy winters night and he'd left Amadeo the morning before with trepidation. He'd been feeling poorly. A little cold, Marius knew, nothing more. Just the result of rambunctious boys who were out in the cold and drinking too much. A sniffle, and he had made sure Amadeo would spend the day in bed under Vincenzo's care. Tea, soup, sleep. He would be fine, yet Marius still felt a deep anxiety as he'd had to leave him, and that had carried over to the moment he woke. He was at his side back at his grand palazzo the moment he could be, to find Amadeo still pink-cheeked from a slight fever, a sniffle every other breath, and his hair damp from sleep sweat.

"You left me the whole day, Master, that's the true fright," said Amadeo with a whine to his voice, but it was a half hearted wine. He knew Marius couldn't help to be away. He didn't get out a word to what his beloved God was, but he'd learned that nothing could be done about their separation. Still, it didn't make the seperation any easier. He hated every moment Marius was taken from him, to the point where were it not for his brothers, he could come to hate the sun.

Amadeo raised himself up to sit in bed as Marius approached, his white night shirt slipping down one broadening shoulder and his hair sticking up in 20 different directions. Marius laughed, crouching to sit on the edge of his bed beside him, the thick winter covers plush beneath him. "Well at least I know you obeyed me, and stayed in bed," said Marius as he reached out to give a fond tug on Amadeo's frizzy curls. Amadeo gave a sour look and shook his head, before reaching up and cupping Marius' hand to his cheek. He frowned at the warmth he felt, but determined it was less than it had been before. He was already getting better.

"Have I ever disobeyed you, Maestro?"

"More times in the last year than I can count on both hands," Marius supplied. He stroked his thumb over Amadeo's soft cheek, and bent to kiss him. He felt just as warm to his lips. "Naughty thing."

"As though you would have me any other way," countered Amadeo. Marius could tell he was tired and wondered how long he had been up. Well, he would sleep more. A wash to his face and neck would help him feel better, to start.

"Hmm." He gave a noncommittal hum, not wanting to encourage that sassiness and yet not wanting to stifle it at all either. He found it equal parts infuriating and endearing and even nearly a year into their affair he wasn't sure how to manage both warring feelings. So he did what he always did, and ignored them. Instead he held out a hand, a brush from across the room on his desk slipping into his hand. He'd long ago stopped hiding his "magic" from Amadeo.

"You should tie back your hair while you sleep," said Marius gently as he adjusted where he sat, slipping behind Amadeo and bringing his mess of curls over his shoulders. He started at the end, using his fingers and the bristles of the brush to begin gently undoing all the knots and tangles.

"I did," he argued with a pout to his voice. "But I kept tossing about all day and it came undone. Then I couldn't find the ribbon and I was too tired to get up and find another."

This was an acceptable excuse to Marius, and he kissed Amadeo's cheek so the boy would know he was not being scolded in the least. Working through a particularly tough knot, he kept the loc of hair carefully, not wanting to hurt Amadeo at all. Quietly they say the next ten minutes as he brushed out his hair, the curls now rather bushy and frizzy but that was fine. When he felt better, they would have a bath together as was their way, and he would wash and oil his hair for him. For now, though, he simply wound it back into a neat, tight braid, fishing the errant ribbon from the folds in the sheets to tie off the end.

"There," he murmured as he laid the braid over Amadeo's shoulder, and then eased the boy back to lay with him among the sheets. "My beautiful boy, my love. Rest now." And Amadeo closed his eyes, sleeping better then than he had the entire day.

#marius/armand appreciation week

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volterran-wine · 3 months

Note

POV inspired by these headcanons you did for me (which I adored, and often reread, thank you very much!)

You’re a poor Victorian Artist/Writer/Musician trying to make your way in a cutthroat world, you finished a humble showing of your work when you meet a (terribly handsome) stranger who is oh so supportive of you and shows so much interest in you your work.

Cut to approx. 100 years later, you’re happily mates to said handsome stranger, you continue to create, you’ve well outlived your contemporary rivals and critics, and you’re loving life when you hear a new book about you is being released.

Imagine your horror when you find out some pesky human historian discovered either letters written by you, sent to a trusted friend who apparently kept them after your ‘mysterious disappearance’ or worse yet, your own diary, which was tossed carelessly into the back of an antique wardrobe or under a floorboard in your haste to leave that life behind to start your new one.

While thankfully nothing supernatural was ever mention, the whole world, including but not limited to all those in the Palazzo, your in-laws and your now-husband get to read you gushing like a besotted teenager about how handsome and eloquent you thought he was upon your very first meeting, all the lovely things he said, and all you wild human feelings. No matter how cool you played it face-to-face, it’s clear you were smitten from the start. (You also may or may not have confessed to using them as a muse before being properly acquainted, someone’s likeness may have appeared in a sketch, someone’s words may appear in a poem, someone’s voice may have inspired a small composition, etc)

While most of the guard won’t see it as their place to speak on it (except maybe Corin, whether she is now your niece or step-daughter you won’t get past her unscathed) your brothers and sister(s)-in-law are more than happy to tease you, and your mate walks around with a hint more smugness than usual. Maybe you can all laugh at the authors seemingly wild theory that you did not, in fact, ‘die mysteriously’ but ran off with your ‘Italian Lover’ and changed your name being surprisingly accurate, tho thankfully missing any supernatural elements.

My reaction, personally? “I’m gonna go find my empty grave a roll around in it for a bit if it’s all the same to you,”

Well friend, I find this scenario highly plausible.

Seeing as though The Volturi are patrons of the arts they must have had a hand in a lot of creative ventures through the ages. I fully believe the royals have sponsored many an artist, probably has invited them to Volterra back in the day as well. These days they can operate more comfortably in the shadows, but back then? They had to have some interactions with the humans.

Honestly? I can only imagine how many poems, paintings and compositions are dedicated to Demetri at this point in time; with or without a mate to call his own.

#Other Peoples Amazing Ideas

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