#So Do Our Minutes Hasten

[mesaryth]

do you think watching the tide of my curtain counts as media consumption

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader : Happier Than Ever

Summary: Living the life that you had dreamt of having for so long makes you the happiest person ever.

Warnings: Minor argument.

Word Count: 1,836

* * * * * * * *

Two bottles of water and a small package of cubed cheese in hand, you shut the refrigerator and turn back around to the counter. You take a quick second to arrange the items in the already stuffed lunch bag.

Despite the outing ahead being a fairly short one, the snacks were a necessity… and not because of you.

In the midst of taking the lunch bag and your backpack to the front door, you hear the soft thuds of feet on the stairs. Quickly setting your things down, you hasten over to the steps and jog up the first two to reach your wife’s side.

A soft smile forms on her face as you slip a soothing hand around her waist to rest on her lower back, your other hand taking one of hers as you help her down the last few stairs.

When she steps on the ground floor a heavy breath falls from her lips as her free hand rubs over her very swollen belly.“ Thank you, my love.” She tells you with a squeeze to your hand.

“You don’t have to thank me, Wands. I’d do anything for you and our little bean.” You then lean down and press a soft kiss to her belly.

“Y/n,” she groans,“ I told you to stop calling our baby a bean.” She slips away from you to go grab her coat from the hook by the door.

An amused smile forms on your face and you close the space between you two again, this time to slip her scarf around her neck and pass her hat over.“ But when we first met her she was just a little bean.” You once again explain yourself.

“Yes I know, but she is far from being a little bean now.”

Slipping your own winter gear on and grabbing up the bags, you say,“ yeah I know, but calling her my little winter melon isn’t as cute.”

Wanda stops right outside the door you’re holding open, confused eyebrows raised at you.“ A what now?”

“Winter melon.” Shutting and locking the door, you explain,“ the pregnancy book I’ve been reading compares the baby’s growth with the size of fruits and right now at 37 weeks, they’re the size of a winter melon.”

Slipping into the passenger seat of the car, your wife can’t help but roll her eyes good naturedly. Not only is she amused at the comparison of her child to a fruit, she also loves hearing whenever you talk about the baby books you’ve been reading. Since the two of you found out you’d be having this baby you’ve expressed how much you want to prepare, despite Wanda telling you you didn’t need to do so. But your dedication to ensuring that she and the baby are taken care of now and will be later is one of the many reasons she loves you.

“How about you call her by her name?” Wanda suggests in between sighs of exertion.

You don’t close her door until she’s comfortably set in her chair, having laid it almost all the way back in an effort to relieve the tension in her back.

Going around the car, you get in the driver’s seat and snap your seatbelt in before starting the car.

Just as you place your hand on the gearshift, your wife’s hand lands on yours.“ Let the car warm up first.”

“It’ll warm up while we drive, darling. It makes no difference to the vehicle and it’s a waste of time to sit here.”

Her eyebrows furrow at your response and she looks over at you.“ Well it makes a difference to me, so I’d appreciate if you waited for the car to warm up.”

“But Wanda-”

“Why go back and forth with me about this Y/n? It’s a simple thing,” she sighs exasperatedly,“ just wait a few minutes. Which we wouldn’t have to do had you started the car earlier.”

You start to rebuttal, the words on the tip of your tongue. Between helping her shower, preparing breakfast, fixing and packing lunch, you hadn’t had time to go start the car.

But before you do that the thought crosses your mind that little, petty, arguments like this have been a common occurrence since this pregnancy started messing with your wife’s hormones.

It seems that the little things you did seem to bother her more than they used to and while you have had your little spats before, one literally having taken place last night over you not using a coaster, you don’t have it in you to argue with her right now. Quite frankly, you don’t want to anyway.

“Okay.” You concede, raising your hands in surrender, then resting them in your lap.

Silence fills the car as you both wait for the heat to pick up and travel throughout the whole car.

After five or so minutes, you look over to your wife. Ensuring there isn’t an ounce of condescension in your tone, you ask,“ is it warm enough for you, love?”

“Yes, it is.” While you can still hear the irritation in her tone, you remain silent.

Shifting the car in gear, you place a hand on the back of Wanda’s seat and turn to look out the back window, reversing out of the driveway and onto the street.

The quiet between you two isn’t a welcome thing. Unlike the comfortable silences you so greatly cherish, this one comes at the hands of your wife’s irritation with you.

Not wanting this negative energy to continue, you resort to using your secret weapons.

At the next stop light, you scroll through your music app and select a song, the familiar tune of yours and Wanda’s first date song filling the air. You also reach into the back, unzipping the front pocket of the lunch bag and pull out the pack of chocolate covered cranberries.

When you offer them to Wanda, her eyes narrow slightly but she accepts it nonetheless.

“Is this a bribe?” She asks.

An over exaggerated gasp sounds from you.“ A bribe? Of course not. I just thought my lovely wife would like a snack.”

“So how would you explain the choice of song?” She continues but you now hear the amusement slipping into her tone.

“Oh? This? Just so happens to be my favorite song.” With a shrug, and a knowing smile her way, you begin to belt out the lyrics.

So honey now

Take me into your loving arms

Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars

Place your head on my beating heart

I'm thinking out loud

Maybe we found love right where we are

Of the many things the redhead loves about you, your singing voice is not one of them. Your ability to carry a tune isn’t a very good one. Despite that, whenever you sing, it brings a smile to your wife’s face.

Reaching across the middle console, she takes your free hand in hers. The gentle kiss she places on your knuckles and the soft look in her eyes as she watches you solidifies that all is well again.

Thankfully so, as you reach your first destination for the day: Wanda’s OBGYN.

The appointment is much like the ones she’s had before. At 37 weeks, the information you get gears more towards being ready for labor. A few of the decisions regarding the birthing process haven’t been made yet, but you aren’t concerned about that.

For now, you’re more than happy to hear that your wife and daughter are both completely healthy and progressing how they should.

With this pregnancy nearing full term, you leave the doctor’s office feeling incredibly excited and happy.

Said feeling only intensifies as you reach your second destination.

Pulling into the school’s parking lot, you exit the car and help Wanda step out as well. Together the two of you head over to the fenced off playground.

You see them long before they see you. Your beautiful boys.

Smiles light up their faces as they run around and play with their friends. However, after you greet their teacher and she calls their names, they come to a screeching halt.

Just when you thought they couldn’t get any happier, their smiles widen.

“Moms!” Tommy shouts, running over to you full speed, his brother following right behind.

Their little bodies collide with your legs, arms wrapping around you tightly. You reciprocate the hug by leaning down and wrapping and arm around each of them.

“Hi my boys,” you kiss the crowns of their heads,“ I missed you both so much.”

“Missed you too Mama.” Billy replies, his hand squeezing yours after you part.

They then greet Wanda, gently hugging her and accepting the kisses on their cheeks.

“Hi mommy,” Billy mumbles.

Then in a moment of cavity inducing sweetness, both boys press kisses to their mother’s belly.“ Hi baby Iryna,” Billy says as Tommy says,“ hi little bean.”

A sheepish grin forms on your face at the look Wanda gives you.“ I can see how this is my fault.” You admit with raised hands.“ But it was cute and you know it.”

“Whatever.” She looks away in an attempt to hide the smile on her face but you catch it.

Refraining from making a comment, you look to the boys and ask,“ do you have all your things?”

An affirmative nod is given and with that you all say bye and wave to their teacher before you shepherd your family to the car.

The boys clamber into the back, bookbags going on the car floor as they buckle themselves into their booster seats, all while you assist your wife into the vehicle.

It’s not until after you check the boys’ seatbelts that you get in the car yourself.

Before pulling off, you take the lunch bag out and pass snacks off to the boys, also passing some over to Wanda the second she sees the cheese and crackers you packed.

“Alright, everyone good to go?” You ask, partly teasing.

“Wait!” Tommy exclaims, making yours and Wanda’s eyes widen.

Turning slightly, the redhead looks at the boy,“ what is it sweetie? Did you leave something?”

He shakes his head, then grins,“ can we listen to your song?”

You grin widely,“ what a great idea, Tommy.” Giving a pointed look to Wanda, you restart the very song you listened to earlier today.

The boys begin to sing all the lyrics they know, and for the ones they don’t, your voice carries loud enough for it to go unnoticed.

As you drive, and the three of you sing, Wanda can do nothing but give in and sing along as well. Her near angelic voice smoothly glides between the sound of your out of tune voice and the slightly cracky premature voices of the boys.

Despite the imperfect tune of you all singing, you find it perfect all the same simply because it’s your perfectly imperfect family singing it.

Quite frankly, this rendition is your favorite of all.

* * * * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows @blackxwidowsxwife @b-5by5 @lostandsearching @iliketozoneout @alotofpockets @caspianalexander @yeeterthekeeper @ecruzsalaz @natasha-danvers @fayhar

[sibylsleaves]

we’re gonna need some land between our bodies

9k | rated E | read on ao3

“Everything okay?” Eddie asks, rolling onto his side to face him. Buck nods. “Yeah, I just…I think we should talk. Before we do anything else.” All the warmth that has been filling Eddie’s body since he woke up suddenly chills. Buck must read Eddie’s expression, but he hastens to say, “No, no, a good talk! I think. I hope.” He gives him a shy little smile through his lashes. “I just…need to make sure we’re both on the same page. About what this means for…for us.”

or, Buck and Eddie can't fuck yet (four times Buck and Eddie try to define the relationship and the one time they do)

Eddie wakes up to the sound of snoring. Normally, that sound would not make his heart flutter in his chest and his body melt, warm like butter, into the mattress.

But normally, he doesn’t wake up spooning his naked best friend, either.

The light coming through the curtain is the blueish-gray of early morning, and Eddie’s torn between wanting to close his eyes and drift off, or stay awake and savor this—Buck curled on his side, snoring softly into the pillow. Eddie bracketed around him, warm skin to warm skin, flashes of the night before swimming through his head.

Buck in his suit, with his swagger, trouncing everyone at the poker table with ease. The little looks he kept sending Eddie, and the ones Eddie couldn’t help but send back, getting bolder and more heated as the night went on. The drive back to Eddie’s house, smiling, laughing, both of them brimming with delight and anticipation that had spilled over the moment they’d pulled up to Eddie’s house.

The way Buck had slid his hand onto Eddie’s thigh and given him one dark, hungry look before slipping out the passenger-side door of the truck and into the house. And Eddie, stunned and helplessly aroused, scrambling after him.

He’d barely made it through the front door before Buck had him up against it, kissing him like Eddie’s mouth held all the secrets of the universe.

And Eddie had—fuck, he’d wanted it so bad by then, and Buck hadn’t let him hold anything back.

He was half-hard again already just thinking about it. How he’d run his hands and mouth all over Buck’s chest, tasting the dark ink of his tattoos. Buck’s breathy moans and whispered encouragements.

They’d both come twice last night, and Eddie still hadn’t gotten enough of Buck. He doesn’t think he ever will.

Buck’s snores start to quiet into soft, sleepy snuffles.

“Eddie,” he says, and Eddie feels his whole body go warm to hear Buck’s voice, raspy and hoarse from sleep (and certainly from several of the activities they got up to the night before) call out for him first thing. “You awake?”

Eddie kisses the back of his shoulder in reply, reveling in the fact that he can do that now. “S’early. Go back to sleep.”

Buck is silent for a minute. Then he says, “I don’t think I can. I’m too excited to sleep in.”

“Mm,” Eddie murmurs, pressing himself against Buck. “Excited, huh?”

Buck huffs out a laugh. “Not that kind of excited.”

“You sure about that?” Eddie asks, reaching down and brushing a fumbling hand over Buck’s half-hard cock.

Buck’s breath stutters. Eddie grips him loosely, teasing. Buck turns over in his arms and then he’s kissing Eddie, morning breath and all, pressing him back against the pillows.

Eddie spreads his legs to give Buck room and both of them gasp softly as their cocks slide together.

“Buck,” Eddie moans, so fucking desperate from just this, just thirty seconds of kissing and Buck’s body all over his. He’s one dirty grind away from begging for it, and he wonders if Buck even realizes how utterly and completely he’s got Eddie wrapped around his finger.

Or…another part of him, as Eddie hopes will soon be the case.

But then Buck breaks the kiss and rolls back onto his side, so hardly any part of him is touching Eddie.

“Wait, wait,” Buck says breathlessly.

“Everything okay?” Eddie asks, rolling onto his side to face him.

Buck nods. “Yeah, I just…I think we should talk. Before we do anything else.”

All the warmth that has been filling Eddie’s body since he woke up suddenly chills.

(keep reading on ao3)

[cilil]

AO3 recommendations overview

A good chunk of the recommendations I received - thanks again to all those who sent me something! - were from AO3 and I couldn't always find a corresponding Tumblr post to reblog so I decided to make a list for convenience (an attempt at sorting has also been made). Please go show some love, enjoy and happy holidays/happy new year!

₊˚⊹ Ainur

♡ Back In Evernow by @the-red-butterfly (Melkor & Manwë, Gen)

♡ Feathers and Friends by @elennalore (Manwë & Ulmo & Maglor, Gen)

♡ Whenever our paths cross by @thedaughterofshadows (Tilion, Arien & Ilmarë, Gen)

♡ Go Get Him by @glorf1ndel (Eönwë x Arafinwë, T, WoW)

♡ To be Made of Fire by @hirazuki (Mairon & Arien, Gen)

♡ Worth While by @hirazuki (Mairon & Eönwë, T, WoW)

♡ Redeeming graces cast aside by @mirkwood-hr-department (Melkor & Nienna, T, canon divergence)

♡ No Sooner Looked by @verecunda (Melkor x Mairon, Eönwë, T)

♡ When Your Walls Fall by @curufiin (Melkor x Mairon, T, canon divergence)

₊˚⊹ Elves

♡ So do our Minutes Hasten to their End by @maglor-my-beloved (Caranthir x Haleth, Erestor, T)

♡ Anywhere With you by @last-capy-hupping (Maedhros x Fingon, past Melkor x Maedhros, E, modern AU, heed warnings)

♡ What Happens at Camp Eglarest, Stays at Camp Eglarest by @polutrope (Daeron x Maglor, T, modern AU)

♡ of a harsh and caustic nature (the root of hope) by @oopsbirdficced (Caranthir x Finrod, T, soulmate AU)

♡ A Compass Pointing North by @elentarial (Celegorm x multiple, E, modern AU (cam work))

♡ Pour Out A Drink For Me by @nothinghereisworking (Caranthir x Haleth, T)

♡ Star Anise by @maglor-my-beloved (Fëanor & Nerdanel & their children, Gen)

♡ Bureaucratic outcomes & oversights by @sortumavaara (Glorfindel x Erestor, M)

♡ Snow white and the hunts(wo)men by @goschatewabn (Celegorm x Oromë, M, ABO)

♡ Laws and Customers by @z-h-i-e (Glorfindel x Erestor, little Arwen, Gen)

♡ glade-song by @welcomingdisaster (Galadriel x Melian, M)

♡ Slow Flights by @searchingforserendipity25 (Maedhros & Irmo, Gen, coming back to life)

♡ The Seven Trials of Fingon the Valiant by @melestasflight and @polutrope (Fingon, various pairings, T)

♡ My Bones Divide and Shake by @sallysavestheday (Celegorm & Oromë, Gen)

♡ Nothing gold can stay by @mirkwood-hr-department (Thranduil x Glorfindel, E, long fic)

♡ Something in the Darkness by @hirazuki (Eöl x Aredhel, M)

₊˚⊹ Dwarves & Hobbits

♡ You Should Be Safe With Me by @fantasyinallforms (Bilbo x Thorin, E, canon divergent verse)

♡ And I’ll say I love you, and I’ll say that I do by @the-girl-with-the-algebra-book (Bilbo x Thorin, Gen, modern AU)

♡ Flowers that Never Die by @frosticenow (Bilbo x Thorin, T, pre-canon)

♡ Fuck Thy Neighbor by @lordoftherazzles (Bilbo x Thorin, E, modern AU, accidental marriage)

₊˚⊹ For Orc lovers

♡ Scars of Silver and Gold by @niennawept (Adar x OFC, E, ROP verse)

₊˚⊹ Old/older favorites that helped me through difficult times back in the day:

♡ Catechesis by @lvsifer (Melkor x Mairon, E, pope AU my beloved)

♡ the path of ecstasy by @bodhvild (Melkor x Mairon, E, heed warnings)

♡ In Utumno's Deeps by @foxindarkness (Melkor x Mairon, E, heed warnings)

♡ distractions by @tarmairons (Melkor x Mairon, baby dragons, unrated)

♡ Just This Once by @crackinthecup (Melkor x Mairon, E)

♡ ... and I burn for you by @echoesoftheforest (Melkor x Mairon, E)

♡ Desire by @dragonofmordor (Melkor x Mairon, E)

♡ Sacrament by @mayakoroz (Melkor x Mairon, E)

I was a lurker back then and too shy to comment or make myself known, but I saved links to my favorite works and never forgot about them. Better late than never.

₊˚⊹ Gifts for yours truly

♡ His Malicious Majesty by @i-did-not-mean-to (Mairon, various pairings, M)

♡ Where there's smoke, there's a fire by @i-did-not-mean-to (Melkor x Mairon x Gothmog, E, modern AU)

♡ Dog eat dog or something like that by @i-did-not-mean-to (Melkor x Mairon, puppy, gen)

♡ Aber bitte mit Sahne... by @i-did-not-mean-to (Melkor x Mairon, Gothmog x Eönwë, E, coffeeshop AU)

♡ Can't you see that I'm bound in chains? by @i-did-not-mean-to (Melkor x Mairon, Gothmog x Eönwë, E, mafia AU)

♡ Reaching for the stars by @i-did-not-mean-to (Manwë x Varda x Yavanna, T)

♡ The adventures of Crablor by @goschatewabn (Crablor x Faramir, E, heed warnings)

♡ Broken traps by @ruiniel (Andreth & a wolf, T)

₊˚⊹ Art collections (is this cheating? No idea - but this is my event and I loved these so let's put them in as a bonus)

♡ Kinktober by @sortumavaara (various, E)

♡ Kinktober by @elanna-elrondiel (various, E)

[dabiconcordia]

"Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end. Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forward to contend. " By William Shakespeare

[gliphyartfan]

@yanderelinkeduniverse @stars-for-thought @imprisioned-in-the-hole @screaming-until-god-hears-me @crestfallenmermaidan @ice-cream-writes-stuff @linked-heroes @eternadreeblissa @justanerd1

Happy Halloween folks! You know me! Always have to make sure I give you all a treat!

I hope you enjoy! (I accept chocolate and gummies as payment)

------

"Is she still asleep?"

Warriors nodded, "Yes, from what we are seeing, she's mumbling, seems she's dreaming"

"Is that so..."

"At the very least, the Traveler believes she's not distressed, simply in deep sleep."

Time sighed quietly, arms crossed over his chest. "Have we discovered whose blood was covering the area?"

A sigh, "Not yet, though we are hastening our efforts. Wolfie senses bad weather rearing it's head."

"Then let us not wait any longer, for whatever the case, I am worried for her."

With a frown, Time asked, "What do you propose we do? She hasn't shown any signs of waking up since we brought her here."

Warrior simply grimaced, which told highly of how confusing this situation was."

With an irritated sigh, Time rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eye.

Warriors cleared his throat, "Perhaps we can wait until the search group returns, we can discuss out options then."

"...If you insist," Time answered tiredly, opening his eye once more, "We should also see if we are capable of removing her from this place soon, despite her state. Having her in such an open place with limited supplies does not please me in the slightest."

"...Agreed."

With another huff, Time moved to sit next to where (y/n) laid sleeping peacefully on the bedroll in front of them, resting his cheek on his hand as he looked at her.

A few minutes passed without either man speaking or moving, only the sound of her deep breathing could be heard filling the room.

It was all so odd. This whole situation.

Without a care, they had entered the newest town on their travels, finding an inn and deciding who would restore what items.

A small enough town, small enough that they had seen no harm when she announced she was going to wander the markets.

And now… here she was. Deeply asleep after going missing for four days.

They had been fortunate to find her curled up against a tree- luckily there was nothing that indicated she had been injured or sick in any way - and placed her on her bedroll in front of the fireplace, which kept most of the chill off the room while she slept.

Time could still recall the ice that claimed and pulled his heart down to his stomach when he saw the dangerous amount of blood covering not just the area, but also on her.

Hyrule didn't hesitate to drop to his knees and begin scanning her condition as the others surrounded the two and kept alert for any possible dangers.

So far, with immense relief, they had not found any sign of injury on her body. They were soaked with blood, and there was dried blood on her face.

Blood that was clearly not hers, given her unharmed state.

Time wasn't sure whether or not to feel relieved or angry. He was furious she had been taken, Yet utterly relieved that she was safe and unharmed.

"We may not know what the circumstances were," Time spoke up to Warriors, not looking away from (y/n). "But I am dearly grateful for whatever allowed (y/n) to return to us uninjured."

Warriors simply sighed with a weak smirk, nodding in agreement.

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"Get away...Get away..!!" a panicked voice spoke as he ran through the cabin, his right arm bleeding profusely from the opened hole where his hand used to be. He had wrapped it as best as he could while he ran but he was dizzy from the blood he already lost.

He had thought himself fortunate when he spotted the empty cabin, yet it was a trap he foolishly fell into.

There were footsteps following behind the man, fast and heavy.

A shaking hand grabbed hold of the door and pulled, trying to force the door open. However, it wouldn't budge

"Nononono! NO!!!"

High-pitched laughter echoed around him.

"Come onnnnn~!" he heard a woman sing,

"Come herreee~!"

He shook his head furiously. His mind refused to cooperate.

"I said come onnnn~!"

His eyes flew open in panic when there was a sudden yank and something heavy hit him square on the back.

He coughed, gasping desperately as air escaped his lungs as he slammed against the wall from the force of the hit and falls to the floor against it.

As he coughed, something bangs against the wall above him.

Looking up, he sees a large portrait of a young woman.

Specifically the young woman he had planned to hold for ransom.

(She had obviously been a visitor of the town, it made it so easy to catch her off guard. Such unusual skin pattern. She must have been a noble with the quality of her clothes and the guard of armed warriors she had entered town with. He was sure she would fetch a pretty rupee.)

His vision swims, and suddenly pain shoots up his body, making him cry out and want to curl in on himself. It hurt so much. Yet he couldn't look away from the portrait. He felt nauseous and dizzy.

The young woman's portrait only showed her face, but her features were exotic enough to be recognizable, no matter the circumstances.

It was as if the pain coursing through him left him in a trance as he continued to stare at the portrait.

Suddenly, the eyes of the woman widened in surprised as they locked on to his, as if she were alive, than the expression quickly relaxed into a wide smile before laughing.

And suddenly, her image froze into that wide smile, the surface of the painting slowly ripping as if a water droplet had fallen on it's surface.

And slowly, a hand reached out through the rippling surface.

He watched as the hand began to reach forward, extending until the arm was completely through the portrait frame.

Then the hand grasped onto the wall by the side of the frame, elongating fingers digging into the walls surface, another hand clapped the frame beneath it's palm.

Then...a pumpkin with craved eyes and a grin pushed it's way out.

But what caught his attention was that it was attached to the neck and shoulders of the body hanging out of the portrait.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He didn't know if he lost his mind or not.

He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, nor did his gaze leave the figure that was currently emerging from the portrait.

The pumpkin headed...thing, laughed,

"Hello naughty man~!"

His mouth opened but no words came out.

All he could do was gape at the female voice that echoed within the pumpkin.

The monster titled it's head and it's craved smile seemed to grow a bit.

"You tried to take my friiieeend~!" the monster sang playfully, giggles escaping from it's mouth in bursts like a child that had too much energy.

It's voice, despite being soft and friendly, sent shivers down his spine.

"She's quite cute you know? Quite cute~"

The monster said in delight, its head twisted to one side, it's craved grin stretching stretching.

"But you can't take her~ No No No~"

it said, it's head turned to the other side, still smiling.

"Don't worry, you won't die~"

Then, it laughed again,

"But that doesn't mean your fate is to be freed either~!"

Then it raised it's arm upwards and slammed it into his face.

The hit seemed to snap the man out of his trance. He tries to scramble away, but the monster that hit him was quick. It's hand snaps forward and unnaturally long fingers wrap around his wrist as it dragged him towards the portrait.

He tried pulling her hand off, but it's grip was too tight.

"Please!" He begged, digging his other arm, the handless stump press into the floor to get some hold, only to leave a smear of blood as he was slowly pulled in. "I-I'm sorry! I never should have touched her!! I'll never do it again!"

His struggles only made It pull him harder, laughing gleefully.

"That's not what you mean~ You wanted to hurt her, hmm~?"

The naughty man, having covered Silly Home/Friend/Warm's face with a cloth of bad smells.

Silly Home/Friend/Warm was like a doll with no strings! Such a sad state for someone as wonderful as Home/Friend/Warm.

So They decided to follow the man daring to take their precious person.

It's grip on his wrist was getting tighter and tighter as It dragged him across the floor. The nails on his wrist dig in sharply to break skin, tearing flesh and drawing fresh blood.

They knew precious Home/Friend/Warm would be greatly upset if she woke up away from her Silly Sillies.

That's why They made sure to keep her dreaming happily! They knew Wolf Silly would find her, They made sure to leave a long amount of smells for it to find after all!

Precious Home/Friend/Warm's Sillies would take care of precious Home/Friend/Warm.

Which means They were free to take care this Naughty person!

"Naughty Naughty Man~" The monster sang, It's head twitching as the monster's craved eyes began to widen and it's 'pupils' dimming to the point of disappearing. It's grin stretching and it's 'teeth' grew more pronounced.

Naughty Naughty M̶͎̉͛ä̶̺̲͘n̵̘̝͋͘ ̴̗̌̑ͅ" It's voice, still somewhat feminine, sounded raspy, like a rusted saw attempting to cut into cracked glass. It gave a sense of rot as it spoke.

His increased struggles only caused the monster to giggle.

"D̴̘̈ô̷̘n̸̨̿'̷͍̿t̸̖͌ ̸̨̌w̵̰͝ó̷̰ȑ̵̯ȑ̶̭ÿ̶̰ ̶̳̒N̷̰͐a̷̰̚ủ̷͚g̷̙̑h̸̤̒t̶̖͌y̷̰͝ ̵̨̀M̵͉̌a̶̦͝n̷͔͘~̶̺͝ ̴̞̍I̸͉̚'̴͕̓ļ̴̕l̴͉̏l̵̢̔ ̴̲̏m̵̗̿a̶̞̔k̷̮̐e̵̟͊ ̵̞͛s̴̖͐ű̸̼r̸̻͠e̶̹͆ ̸̝̂ȳ̷̯ȏ̵̤ủ̶̱ ̵̮͝w̸̼͆o̸̮͝ṇ̶̐'̶̳̈́t̸͔̆ ̴̌͜d̸̳̒i̸̢̛e̴̥̊~̴̰̈!̸̗͌"

It dragged the flailing man closer until he was mere inches from it's face, the carved expression that now sat on it's face was horrific compared to the rather innocent look it once more.

"I̴͕͆ ̴̯̐à̶̡m̵̗͗ ̸̜͂ă̸͎ ̶̩͂g̶̦̈́ô̴̟ö̸̬d̸̖͊ ̸͖̇f̶̰̐r̸͎̅i̷̥͝e̵͎̍n̵̞̓ḋ̸̠~̴̱̿!̶̦͒ ̴̠͑S̸̳̉o̶̡͊ ̶̧̔y̷̲̓o̴͚͊ū̸͎ ̶̹͂w̷͙͐o̴̦̍ṋ̷̈́'̴̻̾t̵̯́ ̸̫̀ď̶ͅi̴̺͌è̸͍~̶̳̈́!̴̝̒" It cooed excitedly. Its hand tightened even more, forcing him to scream as his wrist snapped under it's strength.

"A̵̲͋t̶͆͜ ̷̖̕l̴̩̒é̵̺a̶͈͛s̵͊ͅt̶̥̚,̴̮͐ ̵̤̍n̵̘̈́o̸̢͛t̶̺͠ ̸̠̓f̶̺̃ǫ̷̒r̷̘͂ ̸̢͋à̸͖ ̴̰̑w̴͍̎h̵̖͒i̷͉͂l̵̒ͅë̸̡́~̷̬̉" It sang.

His screams grew but he wasn't able to do anything to stop the inevitable, the pain coursing through him.

The trees surrounding the area were the only listeners to the sounds that came from the cabin. Screams that would eventually fading away as the cold touch of death eventually wrapped around him.

But not for a long while.

--------

"We found a body. Rancher says the scent matches."

"...Seems someone took care of the problem before we could."

-------

----

--

(y/n) woke up a day later, completely unaware of anything that had happened after she wandered the market.

Everyone was overjoyed.

Oblivious of the figure sitting on a tree branch and humming happily as They stared down at the now re-united group.

"Hee Hee~ I helped!" It mumbled cheerfully, soon gone along with the next brush of wind passing by.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

(The Last Sight a Dead Man Sees Before The Bitter End)

[thebrickinbrick]

Many Interrogation Points Concerning a Certain Le Cabuc Whose Name May Not Have Been Le Cabuc, Part 2

The murderer turned round and saw before him Enjolras' cold white face.

Enjolras held a pistol in his hand. He had hastened up at the sound of the discharge. He had seized Cabuc's collar, blouse, shirt, and suspender with his left hand.

"On your knees!" he repeated. And, with an imperious motion, the frail young man of twenty years bent the thickset and sturdy porter like a reed, and brought him to his knees in the mire.

Le Cabuc attempted to resist, but he seemed to have been seized by a superhuman hand.

Enjolras, pale, with bare neck and dishevelled hair, and his woman's face, had about him at that moment something of the antique Themis. His dilated nostrils, his downcast eyes, gave to his implacable Greek profile that expression of wrath and that expression of Chastity which, as the ancient world viewed the matter, befit Justice.

The whole barricade hastened up, then all ranged themselves in a circle at a distance, feeling that it was impossible to utter a word in the presence of the thing which they were about to behold.

Le Cabuc, vanquished, no longer tried to struggle, and trembled in every limb.

Enjolras released him and drew out his watch.

"Collect yourself," said he. "Think or pray. You have one minute."

Mercy!" murmured the murderer; then he dropped his head and stammered a few inarticulate oaths.

Enjolras never took his eyes off of him; he allowed a minute to pass, then he replaced his watch in his fob. That done, he grasped Le Cabuc by the hair, as the latter coiled himself into a ball at his knees and shrieked, and placed the muzzle of the pistol to his ear. Many of those intrepid men, who had so tranquilly entered upon the most terrible of adventures, turned aside their heads.

An explosion was heard, the assassin fell to the pavement face downwards.

Enjolras straightened himself up, and cast a convinced and severe glance around him. Then he spurned the corpse with his foot and said: "Throw that outside."

Three men raised the body of the unhappy wretch, which was still agitated by the last mechanical convulsions of the life that had fled, and flung it over the little barricade into the Rue Mondétour.

Enjolras was thoughtful. It is impossible to say what grandiɔse shadows slowly spread over his redoubtable serenity. All at once he raised his voice.

A silence fell upon them.

"Citizens," said Enjolras, "what that man did is frightful, what I have done is horrible. He killed, therefore I killed him. I had to do it, because insurrection must have its discipline. Assassination is even more of a crime here than elsewhere; we are under the eyes of the Revolution, we are the priests of the Republic, we are the victims of duty, and must not be possible to slander our combat. I have, therefore, tried that man, and condemned him to death. As for myself, constrained as i am to do what I have done, and yet abhorring it, I have judged myself also, and you shall soon see to what I have condemned myself."

Those who listened to him shuddered. "We will share thy fate," cried Combeferre.

"So be it," replied Enjolras. "One word more. In executing this man, I have obeyed necessity; but necessity is a monster of the old world, necessity's name is Fatality. Now, the law of progress is, that monsters shall disappear before the angels, and that Fatality shall vanish before Fraternity. It is a bad moment to pronounce the word love. No matter, I do pronounce it. And I glorify it. Love, the future is thine. Death, I make use of thee, but I hate thee. Citizens, in the future there will be neither darkness nor thunderbolts; neither ferocious ignorance, nor bloody retaliation. As there will be no more Satan, there will be no more Michael. In the future no one will kill any one else, the earth will beam with radiance, the human race will love. The day will come, citizens, when all will be concord, harmony, light, joy and life; it will come, and it is in order that it may come that we are about to die."

Enjolras ceased. His virgin lips closed; and he remained for some time standing on the spot where he had shed blood, in marble immobility. His staring eye caused those about him to speak in low tones.

Jean Prouvaire and Combeferre pressed each other's hands silently, and, leaning against each other in an angle of the barricade, they watched with an admiration in which there was some compassion, that grave young man, executioner and priest, composed of light, like crystal, and also of rock.

Let us say at once that later on, after the action, when the bodies were taken to the morgue and searched, a police agent's card was found on Le Cabuc. The author of this book had in his hands, in 1848, the special report on this subject made to the Prefect of Police in 1832.

We will add, that if we are to believe a tradition of the police, which is strange but probably well founded, Le Cabuc was Claquesous. The fact is, that dating from the death of Le Cabuc, there was no longer any question of Claquesous. Claquesous had nowhere left any trace of his disappearance; he would seem to have amalgamated himself with the invisible. His life had been all shadows, his end was night.

The whole insurgent group was still under the influence of the emotion of that tragic case which had been so quickly tried and so quickly terminated, when Courfeyrac again beheld on the barricade, the small young man who had inquired of him that morning for Marius.

This lad, who had a bold and reckless air, had come by night to join the insurgents.

[artiststarme]

What If Steve Were To Leave Hawkins? Part 10

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

This part was fun to write! Thank you to everyone for your suggestions, hopefully this meets your expectations. I look forward to seeing what you guys think! As always, if you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know and I give you a tag!

~*~*~*~

Max called a Code Red the second she got back inside her own trailer after trying to catch up to the Beemer. “Mayday! I repeat; Mayday! I just saw Steve and Eddie drive away together. I think Eddie just left too!”

A cacophony of voices exploded over the radio. 

“What? Steve is back in town?” Lucas confusedly asked.

“Steve kidnapped our Dungeon Master?!” Mike’s voice shrieked in appalled horror. “That’s a felony, we have to call the police!” 

“How do you know if it was Steve?” Dustin stammered in confused defense of Steve.

Above all of the other voices, Max started talking again. “I saw the Beemer outside of Eddie’s trailer when I woke up and when I went to investigate, they drove away! It was his car, dipshit. Who else could it be? And we are not calling the police on Steve! Eddie got into the car willingly.”

That fact didn’t seem to deter Mike, “So he was coerced? That’s just as bad! We have to call someone!” 

“Alright, everyone this is a Code Red! Meet in Mike’s basement in T-minus 15 minutes. Let’s move people!” Dustin ordered. While normally they would argue with him taking charge, these were not normal circumstances. Everyone was on edge and they hastened to follow his instructions. 

This was shaping up to be one of the worst days of their lives. 

~*~*~*~

Eddie was having the best day of his life. 

He and Steve were almost to Chicago having just stopped at a gas station on the Indiana-Illinois border. For the past three and a half hours or so, they had been singing (i.e. screaming) along to Eddie’s favorite bands. And Eddie will swear it to anyone that asks, Holy Diver sounds even better when Steve is singing it with a beaming smile on his face further illuminated by the beams of sunlight. Eddie already knew he was an angel but the halo surrounding him cemented the fact in his mind. 

Steve was thrilled as well. He knew some of Eddie’s music from the cassettes he bought to remind him of the man when he first left. As such, he was familiar with some of the songs and was having a grand time singing along. And he got to share something with Eddie, they were able to share an interest in Dio songs. Whenever he glanced at Eddie in his passenger seat, he was greeted with a look of pure happiness and awe. He decided right then that would do anything to keep Eddie smiling like that. 

When they crossed the city limits of Chicago, Eddie’s eyes widened in amazement. It was so different from Hawkins! The buildings stood tall and prominent against the horizon. The old stone buildings mingled with the new glass and steel to create a picturesque scene of architectural innovation. As the car crawled through the crowded streets, Steve turned the volume down and focused on not hitting any pedestrians as they walked across the street without looking both ways. Eddie just stared at all of the passing buildings, the hordes of people walking down the street, the record store with a poster of Metallica in its window. A Metallica poster?!

“Steve! Pull over, stop the car.”

Steve braked harshly before pulling into a parallel parking spot available few stores down. He turned confusedly to Eddie who was already unbuckling his seatbelt. “What the hell, Eddie? What if we had been rear-ended? We could’ve died.”

Eddie flapped his hand around and pointed at the record store, “but look, Steve! They have a poster for Metallica! Do you even understand how metal that is? The store in Hawkins doesn’t even have the new album, I had to drive to Indy to get it. Please, can we go?”

How could Steve say no to his pleading eyes and ridiculous pout? “Fine, but we can only stay in this spot for thirty minutes!”

His words fell on deaf ears as Eddie opened the passenger side door and darted into the record store. Steve locked the car and followed at a more sedate pace. When he walked in, he saw Eddie perusing the cassette tapes in a large bin. They had a large selection of nearly every genre from radio pop to hard rock and metal. Once he was noticed, Eddie quickly piled his arms high with metal cassettes as well as a few rock. Steve raised an eyebrow at the Bowie and Queen tapes amidst the metal bands. Eddie must have noticed his judginess as he said defensively, “It’s for Robin. These tapes are new!”

Steve just shrugged his shoulders and smirked at Eddie as he blushed anew. In the end, Steve bought him three cassettes of albums that had just come out, two for Robin, and a Simon and Garfunkel cassette for himself. That may have been a mistake however because Eddie started ripping on him as soon as he placed the tape on the check-out counter. “What the hell is that, Steve? I just introduced you to Dio and Iron Maiden and you’re still listening to fucking Simon and Garfunkel? Man, this might be where I have to draw the line. I mean, everyone has their faults or whatever but listening to them when you have Black Sabbath? That’s blasphemy, dude.”

The cashier was smirking at them while Eddie continued ranting in his ear about the virtues of metal music while Steve tried to pay for his purchase in peace. When Eddie mentioned how Steve should have a newfound appreciation for metal after hearing Eddie himself play Master of Puppets by Metallica in March, the cashier straightened. “Holy shit, you played Master of Puppets a month after it came out? Dude, that’s one of the hardest riffs to play. You have a perfect ear or something?”

Eddie pulled a chunk of his hair in front of his mouth to hide the twist of a shy smile and shook his head, “nah, I just had a lot of time to practice.”

“Sounds like. You play guitar then?”

Eddie nodded at him as Steve watched the interaction in mild neutrality. “Yeah, guitar and a little bit of vocals.” 

The cashier shook his head. “Well man, sounds like you know a lot about music. We’re hiring right now if you’re interested in working here. And some guys and I get together to play sometimes. We’d love to have another guitar guy in the band, our last one just moved out of state for college.” 

Eddie looked at Steve in wonder. Now it made sense how the charming bastard had gotten a job so quickly. Everyone was hiring in the city! And a band too?! He loved Chicago. In fact, he might never return to Hawkins! 

He told the guy that he would get back to him on the offer and both boys left the shop with their music selections. They were each eager for the best day ever to continue! Next, Steve took him to a little Italian eatery for dinner that had ‘the best pizza I’ve ever had, Eddie. I’m not even kidding’, according to Steve. And Jesus H. Christ was he right. The deep-dish pizza was more of a pie filled with heavenly cheese and topped with a rich and savory marinara sauce. Holy shit, he might never be able to eat regular take-out pizza ever again. Not after consuming his delicacy.

After their glorious cheese-filled dinner, Steve drove down North Clark Street. He had this right hand resting on Eddie’s left knee that was bouncing with pent up excitement. “What’s next, Stevie?”

“I figured we could check out Metro. It’s a concert venue and some guys at the bar last week were talking about seeing a rock band there. It’s worth a look, right?” Steve said, turning to look at Eddie in askance. 

Eddie just gave him a look of adoration in response and squeezed the hand on his knee. “Definitely Stevie, definitely.”

They were in luck tonight. A smaller metal band, of which Steve could not remember the name, was playing and they were able to get tickets on-site before heading into the venue. Eddie was jumping around, bopping his head to the music, and positively beaming at Steve whenever he glanced in his direction. For two hours, they stood there, listening to the band play metal covers and original songs. Steve didn’t necessarily enjoy the music but being able to see Eddie happy was more than enough in exchange for a blooming headache and ringing ears. And the bruising kiss Eddie gave him in the darkness of the empty parking lot at the end of the night helped too.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20: Epilogue

Taglist:@nickavalens@conversesweetheart@themostunoriginalpersonever@swimmingbirdrunningrock@eddiethegreatteddybear @call-me-big-eyes @cornwallisandkerley @moonshadows-13 @glittergluekintsugi @cpidcupk @doubleb11 @mentalcyborg @amoris-no-smut-allowed @purple-lemonade @labels-are-for-the-weak @thebrazilianatheist @rajumat @livelaughlexa @5ammi90 @colorful565 @marvelousforlife @chaoticcoffeequeen @gregre369 @suddenlyinlove@thegreatmistake @stillfullofshit @nburkhardt @batxsignalsx @newunknowns @thosemessyvibes @tailsfromthecrypt@luciana-rowan @bird-with-pencils @adaed5 @lolawon @flustratedcas @iwillfindmyneverland @messrs-weasley @skoomy-doompy @yearningagain @forest-fogg @bitchysunflower @stardust-era@newtstabber@bobatrash-queen @notjasontxdd@ohlook-afrog@00biscuit @grtwdsmwhr @oxidantdreamboat @the-witch-forever-lives @estrellami-1 @whatthemeepever @a-simple-gaywitch @imzadidragonfly@freddykicksasses@krimsonsimp@delta-piscium@anaibis@tinynebula @darkwitchoferie

[doks-aux]

Fic: Dead Men Take No Dares

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death

Characters: Izzy Hands, Edward Teach, Stede Bonnet, Lucius Springs, Ivan, Fang, Nathaniel Buttons, Crew of the Revenge

Relationships: Izzy Hands & Edward Teach, Izzy Hands & Crew of the Revenge, Izzy Hands & Ivan & Fang

Rating: PG-13/Teen

Content/Warnings: Truth or Dare, friendship (existing, mending, and growing), humor, and a callback to one of my favorite jokes from Season 1

Summary: “Fun, huh?” He breathed in and out once very deliberately then opened his eyes to look at Fang, face carefully neutral. “All right. I can do fun.”

--

Izzy is strong-armed into a game of Truth or Dare and decides to play by the rules.

Notes: Written for the zine Above All Else: An Appreciation of Izzy Hands in 2023 and set in a possible post-Season 1 future where everyone is trying to get along and no one is very good at it. (Except Fang, of course.) Written before the premiere of Season 2 and has not been edited to reflect any of that updated canon. The only difference between this text and what appears in the zine is the correction of three minor grammatical errors that will haunt me for the rest of my natural life.

Word Count: 1368

Read on AO3

--

Israel Hands was seven minutes and fifteen seconds into his frantic search for his captains or, indeed, any sign of life on the Revenge, when he finally heard Bonnet's voice ring through the halls of the gundeck.

“All right! Perhaps we ought to revisit and revise our ‘no more than two truths before a dare’ rule to ‘at least two truths before a dare.’”

The conversation was coming from the jam room, and Izzy hastened his steps in that direction, taking note of each voice that joined in.

“But then we’d barely get any dares!” Black Pete whined.

“I’m fine with that.” That was Spriggs, vaguely distressed as always. “I’m great.”

“Uh, it’s not Truth or Dare without any dares.” Black Pete again.

“Maybe that can just be a rule for Captain Ed and Wee John.” Roach then.

“Sorry about that,” Feeney said at the same time that Edward chirped, “Sorry, mate,” neither sounding particularly sorry at all. Was the whole fucking crew in there?

“Now, we don’t want to single anyone out...” Bonnet waffled--prompting a small chorus of “Yes, we do”--just as Izzy stepped through the door.

“Captain... s?” he asked, catching himself before he forgot to pluralize. He looked first to Edward then to Bonnet, taking in the room’s remaining occupants in between. It was, of course, the whole fucking crew. “Wh--?”

“Hey, Iz-dog!” Edward bellowed cheerfully, springing to his feet and barrelling toward Izzy with enthusiasm he had not anticipated.

“Oh, no, Izzy’s here!” Spriggs gasped, also jumping to fling himself at Izzy.

Edward reached him first, gripping his bicep and tugging excitedly. “You’ve gotta get in on this, mate. We’re--”

“I guess we have to stop having fun now,” Spriggs’ exaggerated lamentations rose over the rest of Edward’s sentence. “So sad.” Undermining his words, he grabbed Izzy’s other shoulder and leaned in to hiss, “What took you so long? There’ve been three fires already.”

“Fire?” Izzy darted his eyes between Edward and the boy before scanning the room more thoroughly. “Where is there a fucking fi--?”

“It’s out, Boss,” Ivan announced, and Izzy whipped his head around to see him stomping out the last embers of a fucking fire.

“Why is there--?”

“In my defense,” Edward cut in, snapping Izzy’s attention back to him, bright-eyed and grinning, “I was dared.”

Izzy held Edward’s unwaveringly mischievous gaze for a moment, just in case an explanation would be offered unprompted.

It was not.

“What are you--?” he began, valiantly suppressing most of a weary sigh.

“We’re playing Truth or Dare,” Jim interrupted this time, annoyed, though whether with him or Edward, Izzy wasn’t sure. He was getting whiplash all the same.

“What the fuck is--?” But Izzy cut himself off this time with a frustrated shake of his head, a growl dying in his throat. That one he actually knew, and it wasn’t the point. “Never mind. Edward, wh--?”

“You should play, too, Iz! It’s a blast!” The implish gleam in his captain’s eyes dimmed just slightly, his smile turning sheepish. “Didn’t mean not to invite you. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

That wasn’t the point. It was not within five hundred nautical miles of the fucking point. But the genuine apology in Edward’s tone took Izzy off guard all the same, stayed his tongue while he allowed himself to appreciate it.

“Oh, of course,” Bonnet butted in before Izzy could find his words again, which was marginally better than interrupting him, but that margin was about as thin as Izzy’s patience. “You can squeeze right in, we haven’t been playing long.”

“Three fires,” Spriggs mouthed silently in Izzy’s peripheral vision.

“I don’t care about your fucking game.” It came out with more bite than Izzy meant it to even if it was true. (He was trying to be less of a dick. They all were. They were bad at it, but they were trying. It just was not the point right now.) “Edward, listen. Wh--?”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Iz. Play with us!”

“Edward, I need to--”

“Join the game, and you can ask him anything you like,” Bonnet said, chipper and smug. “When it’s your turn.”

Edward squashed Izzy’s delusions that he might consider reason by immediately nodding along. “There ya go, Iz, just wait your turn.”

On second thought, fuck the both of them.

“That settles it! Have a seat, Izzy,” Bonnet continued like he didn’t even notice Izzy’s heroic attempts to explode him with his mind. “We’ll do a few rounds so you can see how the game is played.”

“I don’t--”

“And then you can have a turn!”

“Captains--”

“Just let it happen, Boss,” Ivan muttered, calm and commiserating, throwing an arm across Izzy’s back. “Come sit with me and Fang.”

Not wanting to fight because they weren’t supposed to be doing that sort of thing anymore (and because Ivan could scruff him like a cat if he chose), Izzy allowed himself to be led to the bit of floor claimed by Fang, who beamed and scooted over to make room for them.

“Hi, Izzy,” Fang greeted as Izzy sat beside him. Izzy grimaced in reply, careful not to shift his weight onto his bad foot as he settled on the floor. Ivan sat on Izzy’s other side, bracketing him between his old colleagues.

“Does anyone remember whose turn we were on?” Bonnet asked, and conversation erupted through the room, everyone talking over each other while Izzy straightened his spine and tried to catch Edward’s attention through the chaos.

“Anyone who doesn’t love arson,” Spriggs groused, flopping in defeat beside Black Pete.

“Seconding no arson,” Boodhari agreed.

Frenchie laughed. “That’s not a big number on this boat, babes.”

“May I have a turn?” The Swede raised his hand. “I will not choose fire.”

And on and on the inane chatter continued, Izzy squirming in impatience as Edward looked everywhere but at him. He was nearly ready to snap when he felt a gentle touch at his back.

“It’s not so bad, Boss,” Fang murmured kindly, giving him that soft-eyed look that Izzy never knew how to respond to since he’d promised to stop yanking his beard. “Give it a chance. Maybe you’ll have fun.”

Izzy bit the inside of his cheek before he could spit something ugly. He clenched his fists until his fingernails dug into his palms, squeezed his eyes shut until he saw stars, and tensed every muscle in his body until he had no choice but to relax.

“Fun, huh?” He breathed in and out once very deliberately then opened his eyes to look at Fang, face carefully neutral. “All right. I can do fun.”

He would wait his turn.

Fang smiled like he was proud of him, and Izzy did not tell him to fuck off. Bonnet got the game started up again, and Izzy observed the proceedings dutifully. There didn’t seem to be any sort of logic to how the turns were taken, the rules were clearly made up as they went, and the truths asked and dares accepted were as ridiculous and reckless as he would have expected. Nevertheless, he was grudgingly impressed that the Swede could contort his limbs into a pretzel with such ease.

Finally, Bonnet looked to Izzy and spread his arms out with his customarily unwarranted pomp. “Now it’s your turn, Izzy. Ask anyone anything you’d like.”

“Fine.” Izzy looked Edward straight in the eye. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth,” Edward answered, still constrained by the new dare limit.

“Who’s steering the fucking ship, Edward?”

“The fuck do you mean? Buttons is. Right, Buttons?”

Izzy watched realization dawn in Edward's eyes, his slow, horrified turn to the wall, where Buttons had been standing the whole time.

Buttons, very much not steering the ship, stared back, unblinking. “Olivia wanted to watch the game,” he said of the seagull perched on his head. “She’s a yen for hot gossip.”

“...SHIT!”

Edward tore out of the jam room, most of the crew stampeding after him. Izzy remained seated, Ivan and Fang still at his side and Buttons still against the wall. Under the thunder of footsteps and bickering and Bonnet shrieking in panic, Izzy smiled.

“You were right, Fang. That was fun.”

[thepaleys]

The Death of Grand Duke Sergei by Marie Pavlovna

Moscow was torn with turmoil and uncertainty, but within the walls of the Kremlin, our life was peaceful. My aunt and uncle rarely went out, and at home received only their closest friends. During the second fortnight in February, however, we all went to the Moscow Opera House to attend a war benefit. The big, old-fashioned closed carriage, cushioned inside in white silk, carried us to the theatre. It was not until some days later that we learned how close we were to death. A band of terrorists who followed all my uncle’s movements had been warned of our going out and knew the route we would take. One of the group, armed with bombs, was posted to destroy us, at a signal from an accomplice. But when this man saw that Dmitri and I were in the carriage, he had not the courage to wave his handkerchief, the signal agreed upon. It was all a matter of a second; the carriage passed; we were saved. Many years later I learned the name of the man who spared our lives. It was Boris Savinkov, who played a prominent part in the revolution of 1917. (...)

Two days passed. The eighteenth of February began like all the previous days. In the course of each afternoon, invariably at the same hour, my uncle would go in a closed brougham to the Governor General’s house to supervise the removal of his belongings. On this particular afternoon he insisted, as he had for some time, on going alone. When lunch ended, he kissed us good-bye as usual. I went to my lessons. My thoughts were not on my work. As the charming old gentleman who taught me mathematics began his instruction, my mind kept turning perversely, I remember, to a mandolin which I wanted to ask my uncle for, and which I was afraid he would refuse me. (...) A beautiful winter’s day was ending; everything was calm, and the noises of the city came to us muffled by the snow. Suddenly, a frightful detonation shook the air and rattled the window-panes. The silence that followed was so crushing that for some seconds we did not stir or look at each other. Fraulein Hase was the first to recover. She dashed to the window. The old professor and I followed. Quick! quick! my thoughts buzzed; ideas hastened, pell-mell, one upon another, through my mind. One of the old towers of the Kremlin collapsed? Sliding snow had crashed into an avalanche, carrying a roof with it? And my uncle… where was he? Dmitri came running from his own study. We looked at each other, not daring to express our thoughts.

We were hurried from the window and hovered in a room at the side, terrified and shaking with sobs. I do not know how long it was before we were told what had happened; I cannot remember. But the facts were these: our uncle had been assassinated, blown to death by a bomb as he drove to the Governor General’s palace. General Laiming was the last one who had talked with him. After lunch, he had asked for a few minutes' interview to speak with my uncle about my mandolin, and had obtained permission to buy it for me. My aunt had hurried, as we had seen, to the corpse in the snow. She had gathered together the fragments of mangled flesh and placed them on an ordinary army stretcher, hastily brought from her workshop nearby. (...) It was only when this had been done that we were fetched. We went down to the first floor and, by a little corridor, gained the inside door that led to the monastery. The church was thronged; all were kneeling; many were weeping. Close to the altar steps, low on the stones, the stretcher had been placed. It could not have contained very much, for the coats covering it formed only a very small pile. At one end, a boot protruded casually from the coverings. Drops of blood fell on the floor, slowly forming a small dark pool.

My aunt was on her knees beside the litter. Her bright dress shone forth grotesquely amid the humble garments surrounding her. I did not dare look at her. (...) Her face was white, her features terrible in their stricken rigidity. She did not weep, but the expression of her eyes made an impression on me I will never forget as long as I live. In time, she lost this strained expression of hallucination, but the depths of her eyes retained forever an infinite sadness. Leaning on the arm of the Governor of the city, my aunt drew near the door slowly, and when she perceived us, she stretched out her arms to us. We ran to her. “He loved you so, he loved you,” she repeated endlessly, pressing our heads against her. We drew her by slow degrees out into the corridor to escape the glances of the curious, who grew in numbers around us. I noticed that, low on her right arm, the sleeve of her gay blue dress was stained with blood. There was blood on her hand too, and under the nails of her fingers, in which she gripped tightly the medals that my uncle always wore on a chain at his neck. Dmitri and I succeeded in leading her back towards her rooms. She let herself fall weakly into an armchair. Her eyes, dry and with the same peculiar fixity of gaze, looked straight into space and said nothing. After a time, she arose and, with feverish need of activity, demanded paper and wrote telegrams to all the family, beginning with the Emperor. Her face, while writing, did not change expression. Now and then she got up, walked tensely about the room, then sat down to her desk again. People came and went. She looked at them without seeming to see them.

"Education of a Princess" - Marie Pavlovna Jr.

[nachosncheezies]

I can't find the post where you've rambled about Kurt Crawford before! Please ramble to me about Kurt Crawford!

Hi hello and thank you for your patience as I answer this one month to the day from when you sent it!!!! 🙈 oops

The Crawfords was my original answer to @perpetually-weirdening's question "what character do you wish we learned more about" but I'm so happy to expand on that, I have a lot of feelings!!! xD

The thing about the Kurt Crawfords is that (unless I'm forgetting something big) they're the first clones we've seen that are explicitly said to be the progeny of abductees/the MUFON women. We've met other clones before including the Samanthas in Colony/End Game but those were rogues trying to figure out how to hybridize themselves into some kind of genetic variability that would let them look different and blend in. (they used discarded tissue from abortion clinics rather than stolen ova) The bounty hunter was after them for simply existing outside The Project.

The Crawfords are different. They're part of The Project. The first one that Mulder and Scully meet is the one they track down after finding someone is remotely copying Betsy Hagopian's computer files. This Crawford claims to be a member of Betsy's MUFON chapter, and he tells them there's a conspiracy to cover up the women's deaths. He leads them to Penny Northern, who (unfortunately) directs Scully to Dr Scanlon and her first attempt at treatment. The bounty hunter comes for Crawford #1 in Betsy's basement the minute Mulder steps away.

Crawford #2 turns up at the fertility clinic where Betsy and some of the others had been treated. This Crawford is dressed differently but Mulder doesn't know yet that there's more than one, and accuses him of having run off with the files they'd been working on in Betsy's basement. Between them and the Gunmen, they track down Scully's name in a research lab directory, which leads them to data on the branched DNA they'd already identified after Scully's abduction. But if someone's looking at this as a possible cause for her illness, maybe they're also looking for a cure, so the Gunmen help Mulder break into the Lombard facility where he finds a whole room of Kurt Crawfords.

And this is where IMO it gets so complicated and so bittersweet and so REAL. We learn very little about the Crawfords in the few minutes Mulder is with them but what we do learn is pretty significant for something that's never really talked about again. They recognize Mulder, they welcome him. They lead him straight to the drawer containing Scully's stolen ova (the first time we learn what the project did to her when she was abducted). They tell him how they were harvested, that the radiation used in that procedure caused her (and the MUFON women's) cancer. They tell him that the men who are claiming to treat this rare cancer are the same ones that caused it, that those men are actually working to hasten the women's deaths.

But!!!! what gets me most is this exchange:

Mulder: You're trying to save them. Crawford: They're our mothers.

What a thing to think, to feel, to say. The Crawfords came from fucked up circumstances and they're not really human. They're complicit in perpetuating it all by making more of themselves, but this is their life cycle, this is their job, this is what they know. From what we're shown we have no reason to believe that any of them has ever experienced what it is to have a mother in any sense other than a genetic donor. They're grown in tanks from tampered genetic material taken from tampered women without either party giving consent.

But they recognize that they owe their existence to these human women, who were violated and now suffer and die for it. And in those very few words he says: they don't want that. They recognize it's wrong. They're trying to stop it. (They are risking their lives; their subversion sends the bounty hunter after them.) It's their chance at redemption for the crime of being alive and that alone is painfully human.

They want Mulder and Scully to know the truth. The fact that they lead Mulder directly to where Scully's stolen ova are kept. That they let him take from that drawer without comment. They let him take the truth in his hand, surely aware that he might return it to her. (I like to think they hoped he would.) Because she, and the other women, are their mothers.

IMO one of the biggest elephants in the room for this whole show, although we don't learn about her until well after this, is Emily. How many others like her might there be? It's fucking TRAGIC to think about. But she's not the only thing to come from those stolen ova. The Crawfords are not the children Scully or any of the other MUFON women wanted. But they exist. They are grateful, in whatever way a hybrid clone can be. They recognize the sacrifice and suffering that brought them to life. They are doing what they can, in their own way, to set it right. Because to them, those are their mothers.

Knowing about the Crawfords and their subversion of The Project could never undo what was done to Scully or the others. But as gross and shocking a revelation it would be to know that inhuman things are being made in place of the children they can never have, what the Crawfords show us is that not everything that came from those violations are tragedies in the way of Emily and any other children like her. I wonder if it might have been a comfort for Scully to know that out of one of the worst things to ever happen to the abducted women, These Men Who Would Create a Life Whose Only Hope Is To Die have also accidentally created lives whose greatest hope is to save people, to save her and others like her. That these inhuman children the women never wanted have somehow grown to have a sense of empathy, a sense of justice, a moral compass, a desire to do what's right. Things a mother would want for her children, things a mother could be proud of. That they may not be human, they may not know what it is to be children, but they know that somewhere out there they have mothers, and they care.

I wonder if Mulder ever told Scully. I hope someday he did.

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

A Shakespeare Sonnet Appropriate for the New Year

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent* toil all forwards do contend. Nativity, once in the main of light, Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd, Crooked elipses 'gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow: And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

Sonnet 60 (I wonder if he knew the order the sonnets would be numbered in, or if he wrote them in order, what with 60 minutes in an hour, and 60 seconds in a minute; I wonder if he did that on purpose)

*"Sequent" = sequential. But in Shakespeare's original pronunciation, the 'qu' made a hard K sound. So it's a pun on "second." Our minutes hastening forward in second toil. I can almost feel him nudging me in the ribs, asking "Get it? huh? huh?"

The man could not stop punning if his life depended on it.

[bodrewritten]

Daughter of Discord Rewritten Chapter 9: Catch & Release

11:20 AM, October 7th

"Is your talent gardening? Cuz that's a weird thing to get goin in the fall." Dinky guessed.

The children were in the schoolyard where Apple Blossom was showing off her new cutie mark: a pink flower floating on wind.

"Nope," she replied. "My talent is perfumes!"

"Huh?" every pony uttered.

"Actually, I have Thunder Dash to thank for my cutie mark. Tell you what, When he told me the other day that I smelled nice, I got an idea!"

Thunder kicked a bit of dirt. "Well- of course! I'm the best crusader we got!"

"I'm glad I did! See, that morning, one'a my Ma's apple pies fell on my head and that's why I had that smell! I figured I could use that smell to make a perfume!"

She opened her saddle bag and withdrew a small spray bottle. She spritzed some at Maple Cinnamon. The earth pony huffed, then took a whiff of himself.

"s-s-smells... Alright." he said bluntly.

"So why is your cutie mark a flower and not a perfume bottle?" Dinky asked.

"guess it's cuz I made the perfume with apple blossoms that I had pressed in my scrapbook," Apple Blossom explained. "They had fallen off the trees before they could turn to apples. Mom says my cutie mark means I can give every pony my apple-y flowery scent!"

While every pony congratulated Apple Blossom, Screwball sat on a bench and doodle in the dirt with a stick.

"did'ja hear how Apple Blossom got her mark?" Taco Grandé said, bouncing with every word.

"Screwball!" The filly jumped and turned to Apple Blossom.

Screwball shook her head. "Sorry, Blossom. Congratulations on your cutie mark!"

Her other friends had gathered round to see what she had been so occupied in.

"Since when did you become so cutesy?" Thunder inquired.

"What do you mean?" Screwball asked.

Lightning pointed to the dirt. It was covered in little hearts and a few big ones with the initials 'SB' and 'MB' written in them. Screwball dropped her stick. She had not realized she had been drawing all that.

"Ooh!" Dinky exclaimed. "Who's MB?"

"ooooh, you wouldn't know him!" Screwball teased, using her magic to make the incriminating doodles disappear.

Apple Blossom scrutinized her face. "Wait a minute." She gasped dramatically. "No way! Screwy's got a coltfriend?"

"well, I wouldn't go that far-" she can't go that far. Nobody can know anything about him

"You so do! You're blushing like crazy!"

Dinky squealed. "Oh my gosh! Who is it?"

"Is he cute?"

"What color is his mane?"

"Spill!" Apple Blossom urged. "Who is it?"

Screwball was literally saved by the bell. As the other foals hastened inside the schoolhouse, she let out a sigh of relief.

Over the past month, she and Prince Mothball have been meeting up frequently. In those meetings, they had played, laughed and confided in each other. It was becoming harder and harder for Screwball to keep the secret from her friends and family. She was so proud to have mothball that it was hard to remember nopony else was.

When she came home with a dreamy look in her eyes, her parents were especially suspicious.

"Tell me, you also think there's something funny about our daughter?" Discord said.

"yeah. Not wrong," Fluttershy replied, resting her head on her hoof. "just peculiar."

"I'll say! You think there's a colt in her life?"

"she hasn't liked any boys at school since she enrolled, and there's no new colt at school as far as-"

"wait-flutters, what if it's a filly?"

She put her hoof to her forehead. "By Jove, I hadn't thought'a that." They looked at eachother for a beat, and giggled.

Slowly slinking towards her husband, Fluttershy stretched her hooves up to his face and from there, planted a neat little kiss on his goatee. Fur nuzzled down onto her face and discord spoke softy to her.

"regardless, should we not talk to her about what's expected of her now that she's dating?"

"we don't even know that she's dating, but yeah. You should be the one to explain the rules. I'm done with that line of work after the oven fiasco." With that, Discord waltzed on over to his daughter's room.

Screwball glanced up from her homework as her dad swung the door open.

"sooooo... Who is it?" He approached her, wrapping his snake body along the air.

The filly blinked. "What are you…?"

She sighed. "Yeah, okay- I get it papa, no there's no colt."

"You mother is on the crazy suspicion that you have a crush, haha.... Not me though. Not that it's a bad thing, just wanna know. I mean, anything. Not like everything but you can tell me an-"

Discord laughed awkwardly and a crooked smile pulled from the corner of his mouth. "Well I mean- doesn't have to be a colt- not that I'm assuming you're not into colts! It wouldn't be wrong either way, but like, if there's anything you need to talk about-"

"Nah. Thanks anyway though."

"What do you call these objects again?" Mothball asked, examining the strange substance in his hooves.

"that would be a bell."

"they sound beautiful."

"I didn't think you'd like em. Most of the time bells sound terrible. Unless it's heart's warming. Bells sound different then."

"I do not know what that is either. Perhaps that is a question for next week."

Mothball tapped his chin. They had been going back and forth with questions ever since their first meeting.

"Your unicorn friend," he said, "the one with the strange eyes? How did that happen? Was it an accident?"

Screwball shook her head. "Dinky's condition is genetic. Her mama, derpy, was top of her flight class until it got worse over time. Oh, dinky and I were actually born on the same day! One year we have the birthday party at my house, the next at Dinky's and then at mine and so on."

He scratched his head. "What is a birthday party?"

She blinked. "Wow. You really need to get out more. A birthday party is a party you have to celebrate the date of your birth."

"I figured. Birthdays would be every day in the hive."

Screwball snickered. "Aunt Pinkie would have a blast!"

"this pinkie, she would be the hyper one?"

"You bet your tail she is! Although she's not really my aunt, she's still one of my favorites! She can turn any bad day around just by being herself. Plus, she gave me this cool hat!"

Mothball sighed. "You have an amazing family, even as most of them are not related to you."

"I don't get it. Aren't there changelings your age for you to play with?"

"our hive learns the necessary skills for the hunt every day, with one day off to rest our muscles. Scouts learn military tactics, as well as our generals and other positions of defense. out even at this, I alone have to learn even more than usual. I am set to be king."

Screwball glanced down and circled her hoof in the ground nervously. "Does it…hurt?"

"Does what hurt?"

"When you feed on ponies' love…do you…hurt them?"

Mothball cringed. "Well…when we drain them of their love, we drain them of their power. They slowly weaken, and weakening hurts. Like starving to death." He paused and backed away from Screwball. "Maybe we shouldn't…"

The filly gasped and pointed to the sky. "Look! A shooting star!"

She closed her eyes and concentrated.

"What are you doing?" the prince asked.

"If you make a wish on a shooting star, it'll come true," she explained.

"What did you wish for?"

She laughed. "Silly! You can't tell your wish, or else it won't come true!"

"I fail to see how a star can possess magical wish-granting abilities."

...

"shut up about it, jeez." Screwball laughed.

"Ooh, there's another one! This one's yours! Go on! Make a wish!"

Mothball glanced at the filly and then at the star. He thought the idea a bit silly, but he did not want to disappoint his friend. Before the star burnt out, he shut his eyes and silently made his wish: I wish I were not a changeling, so I could have a heart.

Mothball was prepared to meet Screwball for a game of beach volleyball. He had made a hole in his wall leading outside, concealed by a beaded cloth, the only decoration he had been allowed. Lifting the cloth, a chill ran up his skull, implanting itself into every cell.

"Going somewhere, Mothball?"

The prince gasped and turned to face his mother. He faked a grin

"W-what are you talking about mother-"

Chrysalis bared her teeth to the boy. " Don't you dare to smile at me! You can cut the charade, boy. I know of your secret exit, and where you've been sneaking off to the past several weeks." She hissed at him and she shrunk down to the corner of his room.

Mothball gulped. There was no use hiding now that he had been caught red hoofed. He heeled and bowed to her.

"I'm prepared for my punishment, Mother," he said, shutting his eyes with a shiver.

"Punishment?" Chrysalis said, raising an eyebrow. "You want me to punish you for doing exactly as I told you?"

He opened his eyes and looked up at her in confusion. "What?"

"I asked you to find out whatever you could about the halfling and you have! The silly filly doesn't suspect a thing! That is, of course, unless you have gone behind me back to do something I ordered you not to do." The queen leaned down to the boy, cramping him. He cringed like she snapped at him as a dog would, when in reality she'd done nothing at all.

"What do you mean?"

The queen smirked as she laid her hoof on the colt's shoulder. "You are doing so well, boy, you are ready for the next level of your training, and it will require long and tedious hours, so your little scheme will have to be put on hold."

Mothball choked at what his mother was saying

She seemed to read his thoughts. "This spawn of Discord could be more useful than I thought. She could be the key to our success! And you, mothball," she lifted his chin towards her, "will be the one to turn that key in the lock. First lesson in your new level of training, son:" she grinned at him evilly, "breaking a heart."

The prince could not speak. His mother chuckled darkly.

"Go," she commanded. "Meet your little friend and inform her you are unable to see her again. But don't just tell her. Break her! Be cruel, be cold, be vicious!"

"You…" Mothball stammered. "You…w-want me to…w-what?"

"Break the filly's fragile heart and enjoy the pleasure you'll get from it!"

"B-b-but…"

His legs quivered. She would know. She had spies everywhere. He had been a fool to think he could sneak out unnoticed! She had only let him go so he could do her dirty work. Now she was asking him to break the beautiful heart he admired and envied and to emotionally hurt the pony it belonged to. He wanted to refuse, but how could he? He could not disobey his mother. He had seen her kill for less.

A bright green flash of light burned itself around Mothball's throat, crushing his windpipe. "If you choose not to do as I say, I will know. I will drag you through hell."

As Mothball approached the chocolate lake, he saw that it was surrounded by sand. Screwball stood by a net, bouncing a volleyball on her head. He smiled at her innocence and then frowned at what he had to do.

When Screwball saw her friend, she caught the ball in her hooves. "What took you so long?"

"I, um…" he stuttered. "I…had trouble sneaking out."

She shrugged. "That's okay. You want to serve first?"

Her swirly eyes sparkled with excitement. He looked away from them, as if they would pull him in and tear him apart. He searched the trees for changeling scouts, but did not expect to find any, for they were masters of camouflage. He would bet his life that they were watching right now and would report to their queen on his actions.

Mothball stepped closer to Screwball, still avoiding her gaze, and took a deep breath. "We can't play volleyball tonight, Screwball."

The filly's grin wavered, but she kept it up. "Okay. We can play something else, if you wanna."

"No, Screwy…I…see…I can't play with you anymore."

This time, her smile vanished completely. "What? Why?"

His mother's words rang through his head: Be cruel, be cold, be vicious!

"I…" He narrowed his eyes and lifted his chin in an uppity fashion. "I don't want to play with you anymore! You've…you've gotten boring!"

Screwball dropped the ball in disbelief. "Mothball, what's going on? Why are you lying to me?"

He winced. He had forgotten that she was a living lie detector. Leave before she could reveal him to the prying ears all about them.

"I'm not lying!" he insisted. "I've grown tired of you! It was fun for a while, but…then it became dull. And to think I risked getting into trouble for you! You're lucky no one caught me!"

Another lie. Screwball understood now. They were being watched, and so he was pretending to be cruel. After a long pause, she realized she had to play along. Even if he couldn't tell.

Screwball's eyes widened in realization. She could sense how untrue every word was, He had been caught, possibly by his mother. But why was he acting like this?

"you mean nothing to me! You're a waste of a good spawn!" Yeah! Keep it familiar!

"Well, fine!" she snapped. "Maybe I'm tired of you too! Hell, I'm downright sick of you!"

Mothball was slightly taken aback, but straightened up. "Well, speaking of hell, if I wasn't so in control of my emotions, I'd be inclined to say that's the sort of place you should consider making a visit...towards!!"

He could not tell if she had gotten his message, but the spies were watching and he had to retain his image. He was sure she could not understand his true intentions.

"You know? You were never my friend, mothy! You're just a dumb- uhhh, critter!"

He felt a pain in his chest, soothed only when he realized she called him mothy... She knew. Of course she did! Do not smile! He then turned on his hoof and took to the skies. As he flew away, another changeling pat his back in second-hand embarrassment.

"it appears that she has completely cooked you, your majesty. I am sorry about that."

Screwball bit her cheeks. It was the best she could do to contain her grin

He had been lying.

[josefavomjaaga]

Yet ANOTHER fiction snippet

But this will be the last, I hope. And it's only because it's the 200. anniversary of Eugène's death today. The text below is in fact translated from my very first story set in the napoleonic era, after hearing about Eugène had sparked my interest. It's the longest story I ever wrote, and one of the few I finished and even self-published. I've also shortened it a bit because I tend to be blabbering too much.

The scene takes place in Milan in early June 1805. Napoleon has turned the Italian republic into the Kingdom of Italy and now is searching a monarch for it. But his brothers, to whom he turns, all refuse. After having discussed his brothers and the reason why they refused at length with Caulaincourt (yes, I know, him of all people. No, I do not know why he would do that other the fact Caulaincourt happened to be in the room. Listen, this was my first story, okay? 😋), he resumes:

"All right, so my brothers are letting me down one by one. I have to take the crown myself, but I can't rule France and Italy at the same time without risking trouble with Austria. I must at least appoint someone to act as my governor in Italy. Any suggestions?" "Well, for the sake of argument, I must point out to Your Majesty that Prince Jérôme was not even asked whether he would accept the kingship of Italy." "I was thinking of serious suggestions, Caulaincourt. Jérôme can't command a rowing boat without help. If he gets his act together for a few months, gives up his American wife and submits to my command, we can consider elevating him to higher honours. Not before that. Who else do we have?"

"The most obvious candidate for the office would be your current Vice President of the Italian Republic, Francesco Melzi d'Eril." "Melzi? No, no. As vice president, he was a simple civil servant. This guy won't go any higher than that. I definitely don't want an Italian as viceroy. Fickle people, only pursuing their own interests. I need someone I can rely on here, a Frenchman, preferably someone from my family." "Well, both Prince Joachim Murat and Her Imperial Highness Princess Caroline Murat have repeatedly expressed their willingness, indeed their hope, to be considered for the posts in Italy."

"Did I not make myself clear, Caulaincourt? I said: I need someone I can rely on. - Murat!" He fervently motioned with his hand through the air. "Have you forgotten the ways he managed here as governor during the revolutionary wars? The Italians haven't, you can bet your life they haven't! [...] Pauline's husband is Italian, so he's out of the question, especially as the Lombards wouldn't accept a Roman as their ruler. And Elisa's Baciocchi? I'd rather pick a random oaf off the street to crown him! - Which reminds me ..." He wheeled round, stormed to the door and tore it open. "Duroc!" he shouted out into the anteroom. "Where's our little cutie?" Grand Court Marshal Duroc, busy sorting through some papers, seemed to have to think for a moment. "He's invited some officers from his chasseurs regiment to breakfast, if I'm informed correctly."

"Get him over here right away! His guests can have their coffee without him." He slammed the door shut again, folded his arms behind his back and continued to walk up and down, trapped in gloomy brooding. Grand Stable Master Caulaincourt, who knew his emperor, was careful not to disturb this contemplation. A few minutes passed in complete silence before the Grand Marshal entered in person to announce Prince Eugène Beauharnais. »At last!" Napoleon hastened across the room towards Eugène. "Listen, Prince, I have a task for you. If you've already packed for your journey back to Paris, go unpack straight away. You will stay in Milan. I hereby appoint you Viceroy of Italy."

"P-Pardon?" stuttered the young man, and both the grand marshal and the grand equerry shouted in disbelief: "Eugène?" "Yes." The emperor beamed and slipped a hand inside his unbuttoned vest. "What's wrong with that, gentlemen? The boy is not stupid and he has been in need of something meaningful to do for a long time. Besides, with him I can be certain that he will at least try to do what I tell him. An ideal solution. I'm very pleased with myself; the best idea I've had for a long time." "But sire," the young man objected. "I'm only twenty-three. And a soldier. I mean, I haven't learnt anything else. I don't speak Italian. I have no idea about portfolios and budgets and taxes and accounts…"

"Well, at least you realise that there are such things. With that, you're probably ahead of quite a few of my civil servants." His tone changed abruptly, he stepped next to his stepson and put his hand on his shoulder. "Listen, my boy, I know I'm throwing you in at the deep end. But you can do it, I'm sure of it. You don't need to worry about important things anyway, I'll decide those myself. What I want you to take care of here is the day-to-day business. Parliamentary sessions, submissions, petitions, promotions. [...] You'll have a lot to do. Italy has almost no army and what it has is in a terrible state. You will have to rebuild everything from scratch; reorganise the existing regiments, streamline the administration, build barracks, bolster fortifications, establish officer schools ... now don't look at me so fearfully. I'll write it all down for you. You'll see, it's not witchcraft. It's important that you don't allow them to steal your thunder. You have to show the Italians who's boss. Don't be too soft, don't be too kind-hearted. [...] Don't let anyone read my letters, not even Méjan or Melzi! Preside over the parliamentary sessions, meet your ministers once a week for reports, and learn Italian. Don't pretend to know more about things than you really do; nobody will believe you anyway. Don't let the Italians fool you and beware of flattery. Don't trust anyone! Above all," he added in a suddenly changed tone, "never sit on my throne! The only exception: you have to represent me in an important matter and I have expressly ordered you to do so. And if you do, hang a picture of me behind the throne so that it is clear that you are only representing me and speaking on my behalf. Otherwise, you are to sit on a chair next to or in front of the throne. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sire." Eugène nodded, having grown increasingly pale over the course of the speech. "At your command, Sire." "Very well. Then I will shortly present you to the parliament. Go and say goodbye to your mother in time; I think the Empress and I will return to France soon." "The Empress won't be at all pleased to see her son stay behind in Italy," Grand Court Marshal Duroc dared to remark. Napoleon dismissed the objection. "She will have to get used to the fact that he can no longer cling to her apron-strings all the time. And you, Caulaincourt, why are you looking so gloomy?" "If I may be so bold as to say so, Sire: the appointment of Prince Beauharnais will undoubtedly cause discord in the imperial family." "Yes," Napoleon Bonaparte beamed. "That's what I like best about my plan. I can't wait to see which of my dear siblings will be most annoyed."

[skzinka]

“ MUSEUM ” ft. hwang hyunjin

timeline : may, 2022

summary : instead of being bored in their own corner, why not have fun together?

word count : 0.9k

« what are you doing? » hyunjin's voice caught inka's attention, who was lying peacefully on the sofa. not bothering to raise her head towards her interlocutor, the girl continued to observe the ceiling while sighing, « nothing. i'm bored. » closing her eyes for a few seconds, she brought her legs up against her chest, to leave a place on the sofa for her friend, « and you? »

hyunjin sighed as he sat down beside her, nonchalantly laying the back of his head against the sofa, « me too. i'm bored. »

the two friends remained, for a moment, in the same position, in an almost crushing death silence. then suddenly, inka stood up, finding herself sitting cross-legged next to the boy, « let's go to the museum together. » she proposed by tapping his arm at full speed, excited to get out after such a boring morning, « our schedule is empty this afternoon. plus, no one is here. let's go out and have fun together instead of being bored each in our own corner. »

a smile appeared on the young man's lips who nodded, ready to put his nose outside with his friend. on top of that, it had been a while since they had spent time together in an environment they both love. after a few minutes of preparation, the two friends found themselves outside, driving to the museum.

covered from head to toe to be as inconspicuous as possible, they rushed to buy their tickets to sneak in. walking next to each other, inka mechanically hooked her hand on hyunjin's bag so as not to lose him in the crowd, even though, surprisingly, it was not too crowded for a weekday.

after a few minutes of wandering through the corridors while admiring the many works of art decorating the walls, and the room had emptied of other people, inka turned her face towards hyunjin who seemed concentrated. « so.. it was a good idea, right? » — she said with a big smile, continuing to move forward to focus on another painting, particularly interesting.

a smile appeared on hyunjin's lips behind his mask, he nodded his head and patted the girl on the head, « yes, of course. i like to come to the museum with you. » inka hummed softly, moving closer to the wall to admire the details of the painting, « i know. we have this common point which brings us closer to each other. »

hyunjin could only confirm her words, inka was right on this point : despite their differences, art was the subject that brought them closer than ever. they loved to talk about painting and paint together for hours, it was their escape when they felt stressed. even though hyunjin did not hold back from telling inka (all the time) that she was much less talented than him.

« even if you remain an idiot. an educated idiot. » — she continued by sticking out her tongue, hurrying to join the next room, ignoring hyunjin who rolled his eyes, pretending to be offended by her words. their laughter echoed against the walls of the museum, making the room much more alive and vibrant than before.

inka was suddenly drawn in a painting, and seemed to focus more on every details and messages hidden behind it. hyunjin hurriedly took out his phone to take a picture of her, wanting to immortalize this moment. even if the memories of this day will remain in his memory, a small snapshot was always good.

and it seemed that inka had the same idea a few minutes later, because she hastily grabbed her phone from her bag while speaking : « don't move, i'll take a picture of you. i'll upload it later on instagram. » a chuckle escaped from hyunjin's mouth, who tried not to make any sudden moves for his friend's picture, « why you and not me? i can post it myself. »

the brunette did not seem to hesitate for a second before answering, « because you're my work of art. »

a slight blush appeared on hyunjin's cheekbones, who hastened to hide it under his mask. then he looked at inka, out of the corner of his eye, stopping at the flamboyant smile that adorned her face. and he thought, that she was really a ray of sunshine in their group. for nothing in the world he would wish that this beautiful smile would disappear.

« do you know who's my favorite artist? » she asked suddenly, raising an eyebrow as she looked at the pictures taken on her phone. hyunjin seemed surprised by her sudden question, but he didn't hesitate a bit about his answer, « alfons mucha. »

inka was suddenly taken aback, because she did not expect hyunjin to give her the right answer directly. then with one hand placed over her heart, and the other pretending to wipe the fake tears flowing from her eyes, she spoke dramatically : « wow. im quite surprised that you actually pay attention to what i say. »

a mocking laugh left hyunjin's mouth, who pushed her slightly to make her lose her balance. to which inka replied by (gently) hitting his arm. then their escapade to the museum ended in joy and good mood, lulled by their laughter and their long artistic discussions, without thinking about the stress of their career or the hours that passed too quickly.

✧⠁taglist : @kurosism @writerblock-sucks @mynameisnotlaura @g4m3girl @felixsbrat

[vickyvicarious]

It was in the latter end of August that I departed, to pass two years of exile. Elizabeth approved of the reasons of my departure, and only regretted that she had not the same opportunities of enlarging her experience, and cultivating her understanding. She wept, however, as she bade me farewell, and entreated me to return happy and tranquil. "We all," said she, "depend upon you; and if you are miserable, what must be our feelings?"

1818

It was in the latter end of September that I again quitted my native country. My journey had been my own suggestion, and Elizabeth, therefore, acquiesced: but she was filled with disquiet at the idea of my suffering, away from her, the inroads of misery and grief. It had been her care which provided me a companion in Clerval—and yet a man is blind to a thousand minute circumstances, which call forth a woman's sedulous attention. She longed to bid me hasten my return,—a thousand conflicting emotions rendered her mute as she bade me a tearful silent farewell.

1831

One last comparison from today's chapter - and it's another 'let's remove nuance from Elizabeth to make her more of a caring/supportive woman figure' change!

In 1818, when Victor leaves, she thinks he has a good idea (remember his reasoning was to see more of the world before settling down to married life) and wishes she could do the same. A small moment, but one that ties into feminist themes regarding the difference between treatment of/expectations for men and women. This also reminds me of Safie and Felix; she was quite well traveled, but when moving about under her own power could only go straight to seek a man who would offer her refuge. She also needed to be taught by Felix, including geography which definitely struck me as pretty condescending given her background and a clunky way of ensuring the Creature would know where he was going. Finally, Elizabeth ends by crying and worrying about Victor, leaving him on a question. Not only does that emphasize the uncertainty surrounding his own actions, and even the entire narrative of the novel - it also is phrased in a way to exacerbate his feelings of responsibility towards his family. And of course, thus his failures to meet said responsibilities. If he is miserable, what must be their feelings = their feelings depend upon him, and his failure to be happy/finish things with the Creature manifestly makes life worse for them. Not that I'm saying Elizabeth is intending anything but to express concern, but the way she does so ties in well with ongoing themes and weights on Victor's mind.

In 1831, Elizabeth's reaction is changed dramatically. It might not seem so at first, given that she worries about him in both versions, but let me explain. Rather than considering his reasoning and deeming it worthwhile, this Elizabeth simply agrees to the trip because Victor chose it himself. In 1818 Victor that would have been more of a sign of him coming out of his shell and taking charge or his own life, but since 1831 Victor has already been more consistently doing so, this reaction doesn't read that way. Instead it gives a more passive "well, I trust you, dear" kind of meek wife vibe to me. Similarly, this Elizabeth doesn't spare a single thought for her own desires outside of worrying for Victor; in losing that we lose the feminist angle. She is worried about him suffering away from her, and so provides him another companion, but even then worries because Clerval as a man could never be as dedicated to Victor's needs as she is as a woman. Elizabeth has nothing on her mind but taking care of Victor. She still cried this time, but instead of asking Victor to take care of himself, she instead begs him to return to her soon. This also emphasizes the romantic relationship between them, especially given that in 1818 she doesn't seem to mind him being gone multiple years, while in 1831 she's much more concerned about a trip planned to be less than a year. Finally, by losing Elizabeth's parting question we not only lose how it ties into all those themes of family/duty/failure... she also is literally silenced. She doesn't get a speaking line at all, doesn't get to wish she could travel too, doesn't do anything but worry over Victor and hope he comes home soon.

Not huge changes to the text, but I think it's a pretty decent impact on Elizabeth's character.