6 Works by historynut101
Listing Works
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set me as a seal upon your heart by historynut101
Fandoms: Interview with the Vampire (TV 2022)
10 Jul 2024
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Summary
Because une goule, that is what she is. A ghoul, a spirit, a mouth. This word's meanings come from Old French, old fears, but Claudia wears them anew on her fresh, American, ever-young face. She is le vampire, the creature here to eat the night. She is la mademoiselle, the maiden that can never grow old, the death stopped in its tracks that yet still hungers, thunders. She is contradiction entire. She is the easiest thing in the world to love, to learn, to seek. As Madeleine realizes this, the force of her affection nearly bowls her over. It is dangerous. It will likely kill her.
Claudia looks up from her nails, casts her eyes slowly across a passing riverboat.
Who cares about dangerous? She’s done that kind of love before. Now she’ll do it again. This is her life, and she’s never felt more alive.
(or: Louis gave Madeleine Catholic guilt when he made her and that might change things or it might not)
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Sometimes, Ling Yi's mind feels as wide as an ocean whose waves traverse the whole world over. Her demons wear the faces of continents; her mistakes are monsters swimming in the depths, rising to crush whole ships in their maws. The currents move with her mother's downcast eyes. The roar of the tide is the same as Mei Mei's cries as she fell to the ground. Now that their world has come to make no sense at all, her mind can add to the torrent the image of her mother jumping away from her into the sea. And as she watches that loss happen again and again in her mind's eye, the coldest, loneliest feeling that she's ever had spreads from her fingers to her toes. On this cursed ship, it truly feels like she has become an ocean, restless and violent.
But here too is Olek with his head pressed close to hers, his touch comforting, his words unknown but gentle all the same.
(Or: a character study of Ling Yi and her feelings towards her situation as a whole and Olek specifically)
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“Write like this,” Madoc had adjured. Calliope scoffs. She cannot give him the erosion that whittled Sappho's poetic fragments down to a fine point anymore than she can turn back the clock to pull the poetry's full form from Helicon’s seams.
The Muses are of time and of power, but Calliope is just a fragment. She is not a whole but a one. To give Fry what he wanted, to give Madoc what he wants, she has to be wrung out, squeezed. It is torture, trying to create an entire call by herself when there used to be eight others, when there should be eight, when she can sometimes feel them shrieking into the dark for her.
(Or: what if the Muses were symbiotic?)
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Quynh’s eyes snap up to meet a collision of phenomena so strong it nearly blinds her, brightly wild and loving for eternity and heartbreaking in its loveliness and endlessly forgiving and deathless inky black. The full force of it pulls her in, like gravity.
It is quê hương, the home of her heart, her soul.
More than anything, Quynh wants to reach out her fingers to trace the edges of Andromache’s face, but something raw and red and raging instead commands them to lie still, so there they sit, not touching, not breathing, barely even being. Call it cowardice. Call it the anxiety of being harmed. Call it heady memory that sticks in the now. Whatever it is, it seizes her whole against her will.
Quynh wishes she could do more, but that’s not in her nature right now.
(Or: Quynh and the intersection of her past and future)
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Somewhere along the long journey, Yusuf had found a copy of the Aeneid. When they sit on bleached sand, resting their bones from travel and war and the perils of never aging, Yusuf pulls it from his bag and presses it into Nicoló’s palms.
Nicoló stares at it; he hasn't held a copy since he was young and in grammar school, tracing the words and worlds in his mind. He had whispered some of his favorites in his lover's ear when they were pressed tightly together over the years, decades sewn together by images of a Trojan’s wanderings and a Latin princess’ war torn country.
Then, Nicoló looks into Yusuf’s eyes, his own tongue bursting with thought but struck silent by the surety of love he feels rising in his skin. When he meets dark eyes, he sees a hint of trepidation and question, the sight of uncertainty thickening Nicoló’s blood to a roar. He catches Yusuf's chin and pulls it forward so he can whisper in his ear, “Amore sum viro mirabili.”
(Basically: what if Nicoló liked the Aeneid?)
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forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit by historynut101
Fandoms: The Old Guard (Movie 2020), The Old Guard (Comics)
26 Jul 2020
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Summary
Nicoló glares at the man across the sand, its golden luster stained by blood and shit and God knows what else. He gasps out, “Cessa, daemon,” as he keels over, “Cease, demon.”
The man, himself brought to his knees by another deep swipe of Nicoló’s sword, says in stilted syllables, “Daemon? No, you.”
Nicoló's eyes widen as he realizes that not only does this man know the barest hint of Latin, but he sees Nicoló as a monster. Funny, that these are the first words they speak to each other. Demons, they are. Daemones.