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hope-and-roll · 9 months

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Tom Ruewen

"The measure of intelligence is the ability to change." _ Albert Einstein

- Tom Terry Oliver Ruewen - Né le 10 mars 2032 - Next-Gen - Anglais, avec des origines américaines et françaises - Sang-Pur - Hétérosexuel - Serdaigle, Poudlard - Histomage - Né-Animagus renard des neiges, possède le Don d'Envoûtement mais n'en aura jamais conscience, ce qui limitera son charmspeak à l'influence innée - Dylan Sprayberry. ~ Fils d'Oliver Ruewen et d'Aurélie Becker ~ Frère aîné d'Aislinn Ruewen ~ Petit-fils d'Arthur et Grace Ruewen (née Underwood) et de Tom Skyberry et Anna Becker ~ Arrière-petit-fils d'Emmett et Jane Ruewen (née Baker), Allison Underwood, Joshua et Scarlett Skyberry (née Merigold) et de Liam et Amalia Becker (née Stevenson) ~ Père de Jack et Calypso Ruewen * Meilleur ami de Jonathan Ames, Ariane Smith, Clem Amsel-McAnner et Evan Richards (formaient un groupe à Poudlard) * Ex de Dalia Scamander, avec qui il est sorti de ses 14 à ses 17 ans * Ami d'Ariane Hollister à Poudlard, sera son petit-ami (et mari) de ses 22 à 33 ans * Ami proche de Rhéane Petrova-Woodley depuis Poudlard, a eu des sentiments pour elle plusieurs fois au cours de sa vie, sera son mari de ses 37 ans à sa mort Trivia : - Patronus : renard - Epouvantard : l'eau - Meilleur élève de sa promotion, très ambitieux et perfectionniste, bourreau du travail - Jaloux de sa petite soeur Aislinn, qui a une mémoire photographique - A commencé à dessiner à l'âge de 6 ans, dans une tentative d'être meilleur qu'Aislinn dans un domaine - Se compare toujours aux autres - Ne suit que les règles qu'il trouve légitime, en héritage de sa mère - Adore les archives de la bibliothèque, a trouvé un moyen de s'y glisser sans demander d'autorisation au bibliothécaire - A l'âge de 8 ans, alors que la famille Ruewen était en vacances à la mer, il a énervé sa soeur pour une bêtise. Aislinn a alors involontairement utilisé son charmspeak sur lui en lui intimant d'"aller se noyer". Tom ne put pas résister à sa voix, et nagea au loin. Il fut sauvé par ses parents, mais souffrit d'un stress post-traumatique qui dura plusieurs années. Depuis, il a rationalisé et s'est dit que c'était juste la manifestation des pouvoirs de sorcière de sa soeur. Cet épisode les a éloignés. - Phobie de l'eau, ne sait pas nager - Déteste les surnoms, même si tout le monde l'appelle Tommy - A appris l'Occlumancie à l'âge de 18 ans - Ne saura jamais qu'il possède le pouvoir du charmspeak - Très romantique et fleur-bleue - A souffert d'une longue dépression après sa relation toxique avec Dalia Scamander - Addict au café et au chocolat - Déteste les mensonges et manipulations, est lui-même très honnête - Déteste les jeux vidéo, contrairement à Aislinn - Adore la science moldue - Végétarien depuis l'âge de 14 ans - Se parle souvent à lui-même, et même dans son sommeil - Dort très mal, a toujours un rythme de sommeil très décalé - Parle espagnol (14 ans), italien, français (20 ans) et grec (26 ans) + notions de latin (dès 12 ans, passionné par cette langue) - Peut se révéler très cynique, juge beaucoup les autres - Tient à sa routine - Passionné d'histoire antique

Playlist : Tom à environ 23 ans, après sa dépression : Achilles come down - Gang of youths Cross you out - Charli XCX & Sky Ferreira

Théane (Tom Ruewen x Rhéane Petrova-Woodley) Do I wanna know - Arctic Monkeys Tom à Rhéane : I wanna be yours - Arctic Monkeys Ariam (Ariane Smith x Tom Ruewen) : Do me a favour - Arctic Monkeys Tom à Ariane : Find my way back - Eric Arjes It won't work - Gracie Adams Ariane à Tom : Lost on you - LP Tom à Dalia :

Alrighty Aphrodite - Peach pit Cherry Wine - Hozier Fight or flight - Conan Gray Cellophane - fka twigs

#Ruewen #Becker #Next-Gen #Poudlard #Serdaigle #2031-2032 #Skyberry

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austennerdita2533 · 6 years

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A/N: Okay, so...I'm not entirely sure what this is?? haha. I was hit with a truckload of Kalijah nostalgia during Katherine Pierce Appreciation Week recently and this 3k more or less tumbled out of me without much provocation, steamrolling into a lot of Elijah POV and prose I never thought I'd think about let alone expected to write?

As a result, I don’t know how I feel about it. But I hope you like it, anyway! *prayer hands*

xx Ashlee Bree

Summary: Elijah ends things between them abruptly in Mystic Falls. Katherine clings and chases him to New Orleans, refusing to let him off the hook without a fight because she's learned something that's changed the game. It's changed everything. Now, if only Elijah would get out of his own head long enough to listen...

(Canon Divergence + post-s4 of TVD + Mates)

(FF.net) (A03)

There Are Girls Who Will Tear You Apart With Their Lips

who put this brain inside of me?

it cries it demands it says that there is a chance.

it will not say “no.” —Love is a Dog from Hell, Charles Bukowski

Tantalized.

It’s what Elijah feels. It’s the first thing he thinks the moment he perceives her standing in the middle of the foyer, ensconced in lamplight, with her hip cocked to the left and her expression calculating, a little nefarious, an expensive bottle of Bordeaux peeking out of her handbag. Chestnut curls cascade down her back to bounce against the intricate lace of that little black dress she wears. It’s tapered slightly above the knee to hug her thighs, accentuating her lithe curves perfectly. Sinfully.

She’s the devil in kitten heels and Dior perfume, and she knows it. Flaunts it. She brandishes it at him like a whip that's headed straight for his Achilles heel.

Five hundred years of reserve, and constraint, and pain, fade away with the flicker of her curled black lashes to his face, her pert simper widening as imaginary strings pluck in time to the sashay of her hips when she glides past him into the sitting room; heels clicking against the hardwood. Brushing against his shoulder, she precedes to strut through the room with a newly-acquired familiarity. She allows her gaze to catalogue everything. As if she’s resorting it to memory.

Next, she pulls back the light feathery curtains to toss a perfunctory nod of approval at the streets below, humming something to herself unintelligibly. Then, after another moment, she opens the doors so the French Quarter humidity and musical commotion can billow in through from the courtyard. It seems she’s making herself at home—like she owns it. Or, like avarice is nothing to her but a wieldable commodity for him to nurture.

Elijah forgets to move.

The house somehow grows smaller with her in it. More claustrophobic.

It’s far too snug with these used bricks and cherry bookshelves caging them in on all sides, at every angle. It feels like the ceiling’s about to descend to crush every last gear still churning inside his head. What if it does? How will this chess game finally end?

The available space between their two bodies shrinks and shrinks until she’s a magnified map of history, half truths, and conflicting body language expanding before his eyes. She’s in every room or hallway, lurking around every corner; and before he knows it, he’s unable to look away from the tome of her he doesn’t want to read.

The sun trickles in from outside like yellow fire droplets. It sizzles against Elijah’s back so heat snakes down his spine like burnt cigarettes and nearly causes him to fall to his knees.

His whole body tingles and itches until everything around him blazes as red as that profane mark on his wrist, sucking out his well-preserved faculties like blood because he knows when he permits himself to move closer, he’ll be too weak to locate the door he needs. He knows he’ll never be able to sneak back behind it. No. He’ll never be able to find the strength to slam it shut between them again.

Also, were he to endeavor such an escape now, she’d never hesitate to strike from behind with her talons extended. She’d never pause to claim him like the prey he often was around her, and perhaps still could be—so he remains still. As formidable as stone.

“Good evening, Katerina,” he says stiffly, addressing her with a curt appraising nod. “To what do I owe this intrusion?”

“Missed me bad, have you?” she replies with a smirk.

“Not quite the phrasing I’d choose, no.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“And why’s that?”

She twines hair around her finger and says, “Because I’ve missed you terribly, ma chérie, and I’m here to collect what’s owed to me. What’s owed to us. Time’s up for you, I’m afraid. No more charades.”

Katherine’s an entire dictionary of words: a little bit of everything convoluted and picante:

Coquettish.

Possessive.

Calculating.

Indulgent.

Dangerous.

Stylish.

Sexy.

Lovely.

Too lovely.

The adjectives burn like cognac on Elijah’s tongue and he knows he needs to bury them. He needs to stop all those inexcusable words from flashing through his head, from sliding across his suddenly blunted teeth in want of describing her. But they’re delectable in all their disaster. Perfect in their crunch. Like blood dipped in roses or Debussy. Like a lovebite scarred on his neck in shades of faded red lipstick. Like hands leashed around his wrists. Like…

Clearly he’s tantalized by her yet.

The thought makes him want to crack her open like a book spine to study the language of her entrails, to find out where the pentameter cuts off and where the free verse of hell begins. The face of Athena, Aphrodite, and Hecate—her face—wears an underworld of dark and delicious secrets this spring evening; and they pulsate like veins beneath her hungry, inscrutable eyes like they always have. Like they probably always will.

Changed and unchanged in a multitude of ways, Katherine’s a chameleon with fangs who prowls from century to century. Haunting him. Seducing him with fingernails that claw into his back to mark love there, against his skin. Torturing him with too many questions he’ll never be able to answer: like why their hearts are forever tangled in manipulation, and lies, and ‘almosts’ that never come to fruition.

She’s a one-headed Medusa whose name still purrs in the reticent bones of his mind—Katerina, Katerina—and he cannot stop hearing it like a refrain. He knows he cannot. He knows because he’s covered his ears; he’s shut down his own heart too many times to count.

And tried.

“I’m disappointed. You don’t seem happy to see me,” Katherine says, breaking the ice with a tut and a pout.

“No,” Elijah replies as he glances at his Rolex. “No, I’d say I’m more surprised than anything.”

The smile she offers in return is thin. Terse.

“By the way you keep checking your watch, I’d wager you’re expecting a visitor of the female variety.”

“I am.”

It’s a lie. He’s not expecting anyone. Hayley’s long gone; he and his siblings ushered her out of the city after her wild, elaborate tales regarding Klaus and a magical child proved to be as fallacious as she was.

“Who is she?” Katherine demands tartly, swallowing back a snarl.

His answer is impassive. Stoic. “I fear that’s none of your concern.”

“You really believe that, don’t you?”

He dignifies this with nothing but silence.

“Okay. Have it your way, Elijah,” Katherine purrs. Her movements a little too casual and nonchalant, she waves him off only to pivot back around like a black swan ballerina. “But I bet she’s not as hot for you as I am.”

“In fact,” her teeth widen in smile; her voice sharpens, “I’d bet my heart on it.”

Elijah folds his hands. The barest hint of courtesy levels his voice into something flat and steady, “What do you want, Katerina?”

“You.”

“And how can I be of service?” he says with a blink.

Angling closer, Katherine narrows her eyes then unloads,

“Did you think you could get rid of me that easily? Me? A Petrova?” she laughs, but it comes out cutting. Sardonic. “Let me let you in on a little secret, baby: I survive; I never say die. So don’t you dare believe for one second there’s a world for you out there without me in it, because there’s not, because there never will be. Do you understand me?”

Elijah’s jaw ticks and he frowns, offering her a look ripe with skepticism.

“No, no,” she wiggles her finger at him as a wicked glint transforms her features, “you can’t run from this any longer. You’re done locking yourself off from me.”

Circling him in those tall, fancy heels, trailing a finger down his shirt almost like she’s marking territory or preparing to fillet her prey, Katherine stops to spread both hands against his chest before pulling him to her by the lapels. She pulls him until their faces are only inches apart. Until Elijah’s close enough to smell her last kill (a vodka-drinking attorney) on her breath.

“Did you really think I’d let you go after some vile, half-assed goodbye? Or that I wouldn’t follow you after I learned the truth? After I felt it literally brand into me, burning my muscles and bones?” she snickers again.

“In the five hundred years you’ve known me, have I once struck you as the kind of lover who wouldn’t scratch, fight, or scheme until the man I desired conceded? Until he swore he was mine?”

“It makes no difference. The point is settled. Moot.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Katherine spits out cruelly, challenging him. “It makes all the difference.”

A lump forms in his throat at her words, but he bites it back, too self-controlled for his own good. In any case, hope for them is gone. Dead. So he answers her cooly instead,

“I don’t care.”

“What a fool you are, Elijah,” Katherine sneers, malicious humor dripping from the edges of her mouth like rubies. “I warned you I wouldn’t let you off the hook again, and I won’t…now stop pushing me the hell out, you insufferable, pretentious ass!”

“No. You must stop pulling me in,” he fires back.

Zeal mixed with anger and perseverance turns her pupils into flames. It accentuates her Hadean beauty; it heightens her severity enough to strengthen it into something fixed and implacable, something almost ruthless.

“Sorry,” Katherine says without a hint of remorse, “but you should know this by now: I do as I damn well please.”

“This is madness!” Shaking, he grasps her by the shoulders and flashes them into the library. Pressing her hard against the nearest bookcase. “Desist with this nonsense, immediately! I beg of you.”

“No.”

“Why are you doing this? What for!?”

“I think you already know the answer to that,” Katherine whispers like a caress.

She simpers up at him knowingly when his sleeve slips up his wrist to expose the intricate ‘KP’ calligraphy engraved into the skin of his left hand. Which, despite being slightly obscured by his watch, looks as if it were elegantly cat-scratched against his veins—only it wasn’t.

“It was foolish of you to come here, Katerina,” Elijah says, drawing out a sigh. “This little act of yours will not alter my decision. I meant what I said to you before I left Mystic Falls. You and I have come to an impasse—we are not…I fear we cannot seem to…”

He clears his throat.

“This—this thing carved into my flesh is nothing but a superstitious trap, a compulsive trick of the mind some vengeful witch devised so that I would…so as to suggest that we are somehow…”

“Yes?”

He steps back. Hardening, he drags a hands down his face and clenches his jaw to add, “It’s not real, you understand. I’m certain it’s not real.”

“Liar,” she growls. There’s hunger in Katherine’s eyes now, and something else, too—something prickly and unnerving as hell because it crackles in the air around her like lightning: certainty. “Coward.”

“You feel the tug; you hear the call in the howl of your bones just as I do,” she says, “except you’re too afraid to let it course through you. You’re as stuck inside your own head as you ever were, Elijah, but I swear on my my precious-and-padded, about me life I won’t move until you let the only truth that matters consume you.”

She’s not entirely mistaken. He’s terrified.

Elijah’s terrified because they both know precisely what being ‘marked’ means…what it entails…how choice and providence each play a part in the official elevation from being ‘intended’ to ‘knotted.’ Soulmarks are embedded in any number of the myths and whisperings they’ve encountered throughout the centuries, and some offer convincing proof of their existence despite the proclaimed rareness among the Originals. And, yet…how many grimoire’s in his family’s possession state that perhaps—perhaps—

Elijah’s mind is so bleary all of a sudden. His heart is so thunderous and unrelenting against his ribcage, so burdensome with all these wretched, blaring sensations it thrums whenever it’s within her proximity, that he struggles for purchase. He feels himself spiraling and unraveling to the point that a door squeaks open inside of his head, just an inch, and that’s when the intolerable buzzing begins.

In an effort to compensate and correct, he stands taller and firmer. He pinches the bridge of his nose, more fatigued than he’s felt in a thousand years, and says,

“Please. Please, I can’t do this now.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You won’t do it to me now,” Katherine says with a curl of her red mouth, “or ever again.”

“It’s over between us, Katerina.”

“The hell it is! I always get what I want, and I want you to let me in.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head and pushing her away with closed eyes and balled fists which he shoves into his pockets. “I-I won’t.”

“Fine then,” Katherine relents, but only for a second. “If that’s how you want to play it—” She rakes him over with a predatory gleam in her eyes, “Kiss me like it’s over and maybe I’ll believe you.”

“This isn’t a game, Katerina!”

“Maybe it is, E. Maybe it is. This could be the universe’s Most Dangerous Game, or perhaps you’ve failed to consider that?”

“I said no. It’s not real!”

“Yes. It is!” she hisses back with resolve heavy on her black lashes. “Believe.”

“You’re…you’re being impossible. This is indecent! Asinine! Absolute lunacy!”

She rolls her eyes.

“Like I want a vocabulary lesson when I know you want this, too.”

Suddenly, she’s tugging on his lapels again, and her hands are diving beneath his tailored jacket to tear at the designer fabric until it’s ripped from his shoulders, shimmied down his elbows, and discarded from his wrists into a ball behind his feet.

Katherine’s all around him in seconds. Visions, dreams, memories, flesh—she’s everywhere:

Her tiger-doe eyes…

That blood-and-Dior scent on her clothes, against her lips…

Those soft brown tresses falling to brush her chin, framing her face until they’re wreathed around his fingertips like a web, trapped and tangled as they tug along the back of her scalp, never to free themselves again…

The way she laughs, screams his name…

How the air bends into heat, and lust, and skin, as she bites into his neck to free him of constraint…

Her meowing heartbeat…

The perfect swivel of her hips when she wraps her limber legs around his waist and smashes back against the shelves, straddling him as if she’d ride him through every page of history only to proceed across the blankness of forever; determined to write their lovemaking across the epochs of eternity…

How she ties his intestines into knots with a look, with a single touch…

‘Mine, mine, mine’ kissing along each one of his ribs…

The feel of her teasing, scratching, goosebump-eliciting fingernails drawing initials into his back so they’ll never heal, never fade…

She’s everywhere—in everything. And there’s no way in hell to tell what’s real or how it’ll end. All he knows, all he feels, is this tantalizing magnetism in his veins pulling him forward. Into her arms.

“Sue me, but I told you this was the only way to call your bluff, Elijah. Kiss me more. Again,” Katherine both demands and pleads.

There’s a clock tick-ticking somewhere inside his head now, counting down the seconds until he’s entirely unlocked by the key of her mouth.

“Come on. Kiss me harder, ma chérie.”

Elijah gulps and steps back, but not far.

He barely smothers the temptation to lurch forward to take her—blood and lips, skin and sin, love so volcanic it could erupt—by reinforcing the knot of his tie and smoothing down his Armani sleeves until they’re as stiff as armor: determined to keep the world out. He’s resolved to knight himself up from head-to-toe to keep fate from bounding in. It shall not overtake him; it will not win. He’ll do almost anything to keep that word from snaking and coiling itself all the way through him like that soulmark on his wrist, like this girl with the pomegranate poison on her tongue, if he can.

If he can.

“Give me your mouthful of forevers,” she says. “Let me suck them from your lips.”

Katherine’s smile unravels into something sharp and cunning as she runs her thumb across his chin, teasing him by leaning in to nibble her way along the edge of his jaw and closed mouth until he’s forced to give up, give in. She’s daring him to try and resist the sweet and sour taste of her tongue—which he doesn’t because he never has. He never can. And now he never will again because the little minx has whittled him down until he’s transformed into the one thing he swore did not exist: Mate.

Elijah’s heart and mind sigh in conjunction with this epiphany. This is it. The end. He’s let her all the way in. The last walls of resistance wobble then crumble, receding into corners that fill him with a permanent sense of acceptance and warmth. Something akin to…well, heaven if it weren’t a myth.

“I don’t know about you,” Katherine purrs against his mouth, “but I say we continue this conversation upstairs. Yes?”

He cups her face in both hands.

“And, if I don’t care to venture that far? What then, hm?” he trails off with a pursed look. But it abruptly unwinds into a small smile.

Pulling back, Katherine considers him with a grin before she rips his shirt down the middle to send buttons skating across the floor and to pepper his exposed chest with kisses. The promise of more is eminent when she crashes them both atop a mountain of books and reaches for his belt, sliding it free with a deft tug,

“Then I suppose the desk will have to do,” she says.

#kalijah #kalijah drabbles #kalijah fanfiction #also @ my title: i am forever t r a s h for f scott fitzgerald #and his marvelous batch of perfect quotes #i mean; i diiiiiie #(just in case you wanted to know)#*okay; carry on*#*ignore me; honestly*#ashlee bree's writing endeavors

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savehannibal-william · 7 years

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First Date: Hannigram

Dr.Lecter's office- Evening “Before you leave Will,” Hannibal taped Will's shoulder as he exited his office. Will stopped and turned holding his coat over his arm. Hannibal froze unsure if he should do this or not. “Yes, Dr. Lecter?” Will stood awkwardly waiting for what Hannibal had to say. “I was wondering what you are doing tomorrow night?” Hannibal beathed. “Well,” he thought, “tomorrow is friday so, I think I have a morning lecture, but nothing tomorrow night, why?” Will tilted his head to the side. “I have an extra ticket to the opera, if you would like to join me?” Will took a moment too think. “It's alright if not,” Hannibal assured, “it's just that the tickets were expensive and I wouldn't like to waste them.” “Okay, uh, sure, sure i'll go,” will smiled, “I don't really listen to opera often, i'm more into Chamber music but i'm sure i'll enjoy it just as well.” “Shall I pick you up? Say, 5 O'clock?”Hannibal beamed back at him. “Sure,” Will kept smiling, “is there a dress code or anything?” “Uh, yes. Just wear the nicest thing you have.” “Alright, I think I Have a three piece? Would that suffice?” “That would be perfect?” “Alright i'll see you tomorrow at five O’Clock Dr. Lecter,” Will flashed a smile and waved a hand s he turned to walk out. “Five O’Clock,” Hannibal said as he watched Will exit his office waiting room. Opera House - Next Evening “You clean up rather nicely Will,” Hannibal admirers Will from the side as they enter the theater. Will smirked, “you've been saying that the hold way hear,” he chuckled, “what? Did you assume i could not live up to your promonet elegance?” “I’m just making sure you understand that you look very handsome in a suit,” Hannibal looked over at Will as they walked through the halls of the theater. “Thank you Dr. Lecter,” Will accepts his compliment with pink cheeks. “Oh come now Will,” Hannibal teased bumping Will with his elbow, “we have been friends long enough to be on a first time basis.” Will chuckles lightly, “alright Hannibal.” “Much better,” Hannibal puts his long hand on the small of Wills back as they walk through the crowds of people. Will flinched at first but accepted the touch going along with it, Hannibal's hand was the least of his problems. Will begin to feel His anxiety build. There were at least two hundred people in the hall. “Hannibal Lecter!” an older gentleman waves trying to catch their attention. Will feels his nerves floating even higher as Hannibal smiles and begins to talk toward the man still leading Will with his hand. “Good evening Mr. Petrova,” Hannibal removes his hand from Wills back to shake the older mans hand. “Nice to see you again Hannibal,” the woman next the man puts her hand out in front of him. “You as well Mrs. Petrova,” Hannibal grabs her hand and places a gentle kiss over top of her hand. “And who is this?” the woman turns to Will looking him up and down like a hot school girl admiring fresh meat in her hallways. Hannibal turns to Will and gestures with a hand, “this is Will Graham, he is a friend of mine.” Will puts a hand out to the man whose hand was already extended and shook it sternly. Mr.petrova extends his hand to will, will shakes it cautiously. The women put out her hand to will, he hesitated but then bend down and kissed it just as Hannibal had done. The woman grabbed Wills hand and began to found over his good looks. Wills hair was slicked back and was dressed in the only suit he owned, it was a nice suit. Nothing like anything of Hannibal's suits but well tailored and no stains. Hannibal and Will were practically matching in fact, black suit, white undershirts. The only difference was Hannibal sported a black bowtie, and Will Wear a black long tie and his suit was a slightly different style. Will turned to Hannibal as the woman talked up a storm in his ear. His face screamed ‘HELP’ toward Hannibal, he was very uncomfortable in a room full of so many people. Hannibal chuckled to himself. Hannibal waited for Mrs. Petrova to take a small break from talking and took his opportunity to steal Will back. “Well, I believe the performance is about to begin,” Hannibal said aloud to the group. Hannibal gestured Will to come with him and Will followed waving to the Petrova’s as they made their way to the auditorium. They were seated in one of the single upper balconies. They had the hold balcony to themselves. Will had to admit they weren't bad sets at all, no one else around. Hannibal probably wasn't lying when he said they were expensive. The show was about the the tragic tale of Achilles and Patroclus. Once thru the show Willed over to see Hannibal’s eyes full of tears, this was a side of hannibal he had never seen before. Without thinking Will placed a hand on Hannibal’s knee making Hannibal jump slightly his sight fixing onto wills gentle gesture. His eyes made there way to wills and he smiled wiping his eyes dry. Will smiled sympathetically as hannibal took will’s hand in his. (Hope you liked it!)

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #hannibal loves will #will graham #will loves hannibal #fanfic #hannigram fanfiction #first date #hannibal nbc #fannibals #hugh dancy #mads mikkelsen #madancy

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nemzetinet · 5 years

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Máramarosi példamutatás – „forradalmi” választ adtak a petrovaiak 1989-ben Ceaușescunak

Éppen harminc éve annak, hogy az 1989-es temesvári forradalom előszele megcsapta a máramarosi Petrova lakosait, akik fellázadtak a kommunista diktatúra falurombolásban kimerülő területrendezési és szisztematizálási terve ellen. Az 1989-es újév sem kezdődhetett mással, mint Nicolae Ceaușescu pártfőtitkár televíziós beszédével. Ami viszont csak mostanában került fel a YouTube videómegosztóra, az a beszéd nyers, vágatlan, szerkesztetlen változata. Amelynek már a második mondatában elcsuklott a szónok hangja, valahogy úgy, mint az esztendő végén, abban a híres erkélyjelenetben… De mindenfajta kozmetikázás után is maradt a beszédben egy hivatkozás az „áprilisi tézisek átfogó társadalmi vitájára”, természetesen mint egyike a lecsengő esztendő nagy sikereinek.

Akik azokat az időket átélték, azok persze tudták, hogy az áprilisi tézisekről, az ott meghirdetett területrendezési és szisztematizálási terv kapcsán átfogó társadalmi vitáról szó sem lehetett, ha csak a tervezett falurombolások kiváltotta nemzetközi felháborodást és tiltakozási hullámot nem tekintjük annak. Minden eddigit meghaladó felháborodás hullámai kavarogtak óceánon innen és túl, de kavarogtak határon belül is becsületesen.

Hogy csak egyetlen példát említsünk, 1988. szeptember elején

Tőkés László kezdeményezésére 12 fiatal református lelkész intézett levelet a nagyváradi püspökhöz a veszélyeztetett templomok, egyházi javak védelmében.

A röviden és velősen falurombolásnak nevezett akció a belső ellenzék egyik kristályosodási pontjává, a bukaresti rezsim Achilles-sarkává változott, Ceaușescu amúgy is felduzzadt bűnlajstromának a listavezetője lett.

A bukaresti hatóságok persze igyekeztek csillapítani a felszított kedélyeket. Külföldi megfigyelőket hívtak meg, hadd tanúsítsák, hogy a buldózerek pihennek, dózerolásról szó sincs, ami nagy vonalakban meg is felelt a valóságnak. Amit viszont gondosan eltitkoltak, hogy a megyékben zavartalanul folytak az előkészületek, készültek a listák a felszámolásra kerülő helységekről. Először csak a térképről szerették volna eltüntetni őket, adminisztratív összevonások, egyesítések révén, remélve, hogy az elemi szolgáltatások leállítása nyomán a kisebb falvak maguktól is elsorvadnak.

A közelgő egyesítésről szóló riasztó hírek a máramarosi Visó-völgy egyik nagyközségébe, a több mint háromezer lakosú Petrovába is eljutottak.

A szomszédos, de elég távoli Leordina lett volna az új községközpont, ide kellett volna a petrovaiaknak minden apró-cseprő ügyben ilyen-olyan papírokért feljárniuk.

A megyei szervek egyedül csak a községi néptanács elnökét – aminek akkoriban a polgármestert nevezték – avatták be a tervekbe, hasonló tisztséget ajánlva fel neki. A többi elöljárót és közalkalmazottat csak ’89 január közepén értesítették, hogy ideje lenne új munkahelyet keresniük… A felháborodás óriási volt, és amikor január 15-én, vasárnap a Mihai Eminescu költő születésnapját köszöntő ünnepi műsorra összegyűlt Petrova apraja-nagyja, hát bizony nem a költészet, hanem a másnapi tömegtüntetés szervezése került a napirendre…

Másnap, hétfő délelőtt

két-háromszáz dühös ember zajongott a néptanács előtt.

Amikor a kiszálló Szekuritáte ezredes az összegyűlt embereknek azt találta mondani: „akarjátok, vagy nem akarjátok, az egyesülés úgyis megtörténik”, elszakadt a cérna, elszabadultak az indulatok. Ablakok csörömpöltek, ajtókat rúgtak be, telefondrótokat téptek ki a falból, s a megrökönyödött megyei propagandatitkárhoz mindenfajta tárgyat kezdtek hozzávágni. Az menekülésre fogta a dolgot, s egy szomszédos szoba szekrényében barikádozta el magát. A szekustiszt nála is rosszabbul járt. Kilökdösték az udvarra, hamut szórtak a fejére, és vízzel leöntötték. A fellázadt tömeget, már délután a megyei első titkárnak sikerült lecsillapítania.

Mindenki szeme láttára írásba kellett adnia, hogy elállnak a terveiktől,

sőt a falustársait cserben hagyó polgármestert is leváltotta. Magyarán szólva: kapitulált a felajzott néptömeg előtt. De kapituláltak a karhatalom képviselői is. Kihallgatások csak ímmel-ámmal, a látszat kedvéért folytak, felelősségre végül is senkit sem vontak. Szégyenüket, tehetetlenségüket, megaláztatásukat botorság lett volna nagydobra verni, a történteket jobbnak látták inkább eltussolni. Harminc évvel ezelőtt így kezdődött a sorsfordító 1989-es esztendő Máramarosban. Az országban pedig hamarosan folytatódott.

Krajnik-Nagy Károly

Máramarosi példamutatás – „forradalmi” választ adtak a petrovaiak 1989-ben Ceaușescunak a Nemzeti.net-en jelent meg,

#karhatalom #költészet

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likeafairytale · 2 months

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She said 'you look crazy' thank you baby, I owe it all to you.

#achilles petrova #achilles x anastasia #ashtya #otp: you are loved fully #mine #this part of the song is made for them idc #their love is dangerous and toxic #but i love it #(am i toxic???)#maybe #they're truly comfort otp

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likeafairytale · 3 months

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Beau Taplin • I n t i m a c y

#achilles petrova #achilles x anastasia #ashtya #otp: you are loved fully #mine #this poem made me think of them #i love them so damn much #i will never get enough of them #comfort otp

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likeafairytale · 2 months

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(insp.)

#achilles petrova #achilles x anastasia #ashtya #otp: you are loved fully #mine #i love them sm #my babies #this is so true #and so sad too

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likeafairytale · 2 months

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANASTASIA & ACHILLES PETROVA

"Now whatever way our stories end I know you have rewritten mine by being my friend."

#achilles petrova #achilles x anastasia #ashtya #otp: you are loved fully #mine #that's their birthday #the day of love #that's so cute #i love them so so so much #comfort otp #i can't express how much i love them #they are just perfect #best bff ever

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likeafairytale · 4 months

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You will always be fully loved by me, Anastasia.

#achilles petrova #achilles x anastasia #ashtya #mine #look at them #how not be obsessed??#they are so perfect #i love them sm #such the most perfect unhealthy obsession ever #i think they are becoming my comfort otp #i couldn't wait to have more ic to do the edit #i needed it post now #ic #otp: you are loved fully

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likeafairytale · 3 months

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(insp)

#achilles petrova #achilles x anastasia #ashtya #otp: you are loved fully #mine #this quote is made for them #that's something achilles told to the gods for sure #that's true obsession #i love them sm #comfort otp

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likeafairytale · 4 months

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"I heard you could help me?" - Nathaniel showing up with a huge sword wound to Achilles' door

When Achilles opened the door, at almost 2 am, the first thing he saw was Nathaniel's vibrant blue eyes, and he couldn't help but smile –he did not know why, but seeing him at his doorstep made his heart beat a little faster. But that smile was swiped quite quickly when he heard his words and saw the huge wound he had on the shoulder. Without a word, he let the siren come inside the little room that had been accommodated for him, here at the Seelie Court. Achilles indicated him a chair to sit on, which the prince obeyed. Like a professional, the young man looked at the wound closely, before putting his surgical material on the table next to them, with a few phials.

❛What happened?❜

❛I was just training a-❜

❛In the middle of the night?❜

❛There is not really a time to train.❜

❛Should have.❜ Achilles shrugged, and right now, he forgot he was talking to a prince and his words could be seen as impertinent. It could often happen when he was deep into his thoughts or, like right now, was about to perform something. Nathaniel did not care, he smiled with amusement and looked at the demigod working. ❛I need you to take off your shirt, please.❜

❛Wh- my... my shirt?❜ Nathaniel repeated, with a mixture of surprise and shyness.

❛Well, I can't do anything if your clothe is preventing me to see the wound more clearly.❜

❛Right, right.❜

Nathaniel took a deep breath while unbuttoning each one of his buttons slowly. He did not know why he was so slow, maybe he was just shy, which was weird, but Achilles had this effect on him. Even though the young man did not remember who he was, Nathaniel couldn't help but have all those feelings, and the fact that now he was supposed to be shirtless wasn't helping him. Seeing how slow he was, Achilles sighed and rolled his eyes. Letting go of the phial he had, he came closer to the Prince and, without a warning, without asking first, he simply ripped his shirt open, before looking the Blackwater in the eyes; both of them were now blushing.

❛I'm sorry, but you were taking way too long, and I still have to stop the blood.❜ Achilles explained while all Nathaniel did was nodded and completely taking off his bloody shirt. The surgeon then use a rag and dropped this one into a strong liquid. Before doing whatever, he looked at the siren, sighing a bit: ❛I'm sorry, your Highness, but that's going to burn for a while, here, you can bite into this wooden spoon.❜

❛What?❜

He didn't have time to ask more, that the tissue was in contact with his wound, and it hurt like hell. Thankfully for him, he did not need the wooden spoon –even if he hurt so much, he didn't want to embarrass himself once again. Daring a look at his wound, he saw Achilles thoughtfully cleaning it with what was, now Nathaniel knew, to be alcohol. The wound was clean, no more blood. After a moment, Achilles went back to his material.

❛Do you need your arms, Prince Nathaniel?❜

❛I... Strange question, but it happens that yes, I do need it. Both arms. Why?❜ He asked a bis suspicious.

Before Achilles turned around to face him with what Nathaniel would describe like a saw miniature, a surgical one. Seeing that, he had hard time to swallow, and couldn't imagine that this wound was enough for him to be amputated. Achilles, as for him, said nothing. He came closer, and the closer he came, the paler Nathaniel was, and, after a moment, the surgeon couldn't help it. He laughed. Now, Nathaniel was confused when he saw the man putting down the saw in favourof a simple needle and thread.

❛What was that?!❜

❛I'm sorry, it was too tempted to scare you.❜ Achilles said, an amused smile on his face, while he came closer to stitch Nathaniel's injure. ❛Don't worry, it's just superficial. But one inches more, and I would have to amputated, unfortunately. You're a lucky man, Nathaniel Blackwater.❜

Achilles smiled and winked, making Nathaniel smile in return. A comfortable silence followed, and none of them wanted to break it, for it was peaceful. Nathaniel looked at him and how fast he was with a needle and a thread, and he wasn't sure now he ever saw him do before. Maybe it was the first time... Their face were so close to each other that Achilles could feel Nathaniel's breath on his neck, and each time that happened, he closed his eyes to appreciate it. The demigod did not know why, but he loved this contact... Achilles turned his face briefly, to see what Nathaniel was doing, and their face was so close that they noses were touching each other. For a few seconds, none of them wanted to break this, but the demigod had to go back to work, and his heart broke a little.

Shaking his head to think of something else, Achilles had now finished with the stitches, and clean it one more time. Observing his work with proud, he was finally cleaning his hands, who were full of Nathaniel's blood, and came back closer to the siren.

❛You know... If I... If I ate the way sirens are supposed to, I could heal on my own. But I'm trying to quit.❜

❛May I ask... Why are you trying to quit, if that sufficient? It would have been probably better, now, you will surely have a scar.❜

❛I don't want to hurt people just for my benefit.❜ Nathaniel said, and Achilles nodded. He smiled a little, as happy by this answer. ❛So, good thing you're here then, right?❜ Nathaniel confessed, slightly flirty, which he realized too late.

❛Yes, good thing I'm here. It's always a pleasure.❜ Achilles answered, a smirk on his face, with the same flirty tone, without even realizing it. ❛You know, it's been three day I am at the Castle, and I seem to see you more often than the High Queen herself. Is that on purpose?❜

❛... Maybe it is.❜

❛Well, I'm flattered, really, but next time, maybe you should avoid anything that make you bleed.❜

❛I'll keep that in mind.❜ Nathaniel said with amusement, and he hoped he did not mistake that fact that they were flirting now.

Achilles laughed a little before taking his pocket watch and checking Nathaniel's pulse, making sure everything was already. This proximity, once again, did not bother the young man, and, without even noticing, his eyes were lingering on Nathaniel's shirtless body. His heart beat faster, for no reason, and when the Blackwater raised his head to look at him, Achilles quickly looked away, hoping every gods that he wasn't caught staring at the prince.

❛You seem to be alright. But you lost a lot of blood, so I suggest that you'll stay here for the rest of the evening. Just in case.❜

❛Oh...❜

❛I know it's nothing to compare to the luxury of your room, but y-❜

❛No, that's not!❜ Nathaniel cut Achilles, realizing that his answer sounded quite condescending.

❛It's fine, do not worry. But you do need to stay here, you could faint at any moment with the among of blood you lost. It's better if someone qualified stayed with you tonight. You can take the bed, and I'll take the couch.❜

Achilles explained and, deep down, wasn't it a simple ruse to spend time with Nathaniel? He wasn't sure. It is true that since their first meeting in the ballroom, and their second in the garden, Nathaniel intrigued the young man. He felt familiar to him. Like an old friend. Or maybe more? Everything was blurry now, he couldn't tell. Just as he couldn't explain his dreams more and more frequent about Nathaniel, or another young lady. Of course, he couldn't talk about it, to whom anyway? He had no one. And if he did, he would be qualified to be crazy for sure.

After a moment he opened his luggage and offered one of his shirt to a still shirtless Nathaniel, who accepted it. With no shame, Achilles looked at the prince putting the clothe one, and only once done he looked away, blushing hard. He was ready to take the couch when Nathaniel always run for it, making Achilles frowned.

❛What are you doing?❜

❛This is your room. You should take the bed, and I take the couch.❜

❛No way, your Highness. I can't let a prince sleep in a couch when the bed is perfectly fine. Trust me, I slept in worse thing that a couch, I can handle it.❜

Nathaniel wanted to argue, but arguing with Achilles was pointless, he knew that, even if Achilles didn't remember. The Prince sighed and when to the bed. A part of him was tempted to invite him in bed with him. Not as a sexual favour, obviously not! But the bed was big enough for two people, surely it could be alright for them both. But this time, he thought because talking. This time, he realized how inappropriate that could be seen and the power imbalance here. He shook his head and lay down. He wished he remembered. If he did, the bed would be full of laughter and kisses, he knew it. But now the bed was just cold.

Achilles, as for him, took place on the couch, silently, after he cleaned the room. At first his eyes were locked on the ceiling, but with time it wasn't interesting anymore. The silence in the room made him think that Nathaniel was already asleep, which wouldn't be surprising after what just happened. But when he turned his head to look at the prince in his bed, he was a bit startled to see Nathaniel looking at him too. No words were exchanged. Just the two of them, looking at the other in silence, smiling from time to time, until Achilles fell asleep.

#achilles petrova #achilles x nate #nakiel #writing prompt #achilles writing prompt #i am not totally proud #but some part made me laugh #and some part are sweet af #they are so cute #can't wait for achilles to remember #but before more weird encounter lmao #also i suck at endings ugh #icanbeyourgenie

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likeafairytale · 4 months

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"No... I don't want to do it, not again... Please don't let me..." - a crying Anastasia to Achilles the night she has to kill him

Achilles said nothing, he simply took the young girl's face between his hands, wiping the tears that were falling down her cheeks with his thumbs. For a few minutes, he looked at her, while she tried her best to stop weeping, which was hard for her. She shook her head, to make understand her displeasure over the situation, but Achilles was firm and motionless. Not that he did not care, not that he wasn't moved by his best friend's sadness, but because he knew that nothing could be done differently. It was a curse after all, and such thing could not be avoided.

❛It's alright, Nastya.❜ He said with such softness that you wouldn't believe he was talking about his death.

❛No, no it's not! Fight back.❜ Anastasia said, moving to get free of his hands. ❛Fight me this time. Make it harder, maybe if you do, I won't have to!❜

❛You know it does not work that way. The Gods we-❜

❛Fuck the Gods! Fuck them all!❜ As in answer to her words, they both heard thunder in the distance, but they decided to ignore it. ❛Please, don't let me do...❜

The young man was now heartbroken. He knew his fate, although it will be painful, won't be long. He'll die, as usual, and come back later. Achilles did not know when, but he will. As usual. Alone, for he will forever be an orphan, with no memories of all his past lives, until one day when memory will come back, little by little. Thanks to a word, or a scent, or a familiar face, he did not know how it worked to be honest, but he simply knew it will happen, like always. And as usual, the moment he will remember entirely, she will hunt him. Like one's hunt a wounded animal. Was he mad about it? No, not at all. Anastasia had no other choice after all, if his curse was to be amnesic and to die, over and over, hers was to change every full moon into a beast, and once time comes, to kill her best friend. For the Gods were merciless in their punishment. Sometimes, Achilles wondered if he wouldn't have preferred to have his liver eating by birds, instead of seeing the pain and suffering into Anastasia's eyes every time she had to kill him...

After a while, he looked up, which she did too. The dark sky was clear, and they could see the full moon shiny in the middle of the stars. The night was beautiful, what a perfect night to die, he thought, but he did not dare saying this out loud though, for he knew it will anger his friend any further. Coming closer, he kissed her forehead, keeping her face between his hands, a sad smile on his face.

❛You'll be alright, Nastya, and I will be too, I promise.❜ He whispered, as if he did not want the Gods to hear him.

❛I am so sorry, Ash...❜ She cried, and he shook his head.

❛I hold no grudge against you, and you know it.❜ Achilles finally let go of her, stepping back a little. ❛Now, just one favour, please.❜

❛Whatever you want.❜

❛Make it quick, please. I remember last time, and it took me half an hour to die, that wasn't really pleasant.❜

He tried humour, thinking, maybe for once, she'd laugh. She did. A small giggle, but it was enough to make him smile in return. The moon was at it's highest, meaning it was time for Anastasia to turn into the werewolf she was doomed to be each mouth. Achilles couldn't help but found her marvellous right now, for never he saw such beautiful creature in his life, and yet, the man saw a lot of creatures. Saying that he wasn't scared was a lie. Of course, in front of Anastasia, he kept face, he did not want her to worry about him, but Achilles was afraid now, knowing what was about to befall him. Closing his eyes, for he did not want to see the massacre, he felt the werewolf's claws on his throat. He held his neck, as to prevent the bleeding, before falling on the ground, next to Anastasia, who, still under her werewolf form, was looking at him, and he swore he could see sadness in them. He tried to breathe, to move, but he couldn't. Achilles was cold now. He stopped moving, stop resisting, and suddenly, he felt at peace. Death wasn't this scary, after all. Not when you're used to it.

#achilles petrova #achilles x anastasia #achilles writing prompt #writing prompt #i love him already #their story is so damn sad #i so wanted to start writing for him #it's short but i'm still figuring out his personality #icanbeyourgenie

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