#its really only a 4-5 year plan

[treestargarden]

theres a grief that comes with realizing past severe mental illness that held u back from living ur life n learning things on the "age appropriate" timeline.

in my late 20s n im just now realizing like, what i actually wanna do. like this is this the first time in my life i have a "life" plan that extends past "get thru this day".

[welcometoteyvat]

jing yuan and yanqing are giving zhongli and xiao if the latter’s canon relationship was Actually fanon’s made up father figure/adopted child dynamic

[woodfrogs]

fellas im gonna be honest idk how many more 11 hour days i have left in me

[darabeatha]

/ ITS FINALLY HAPPENING FOLKS- c.onstantine is coming s o o n

[selfconsumerofmywoes]

my only two holiday conditions: not in april, and not over 750 quid

every holiday my mate sends me: april, £850+

[the-microphone-explodes]

Well for one thing, you (or the West for that matter) didn’t create the word genocide, it was coined by a Polish-Jewish lawyer named Raphael Lemkin. In his book, the Axis Rule in Occupied Europe he showed his research of the way the Nazi occupied Europe and narrated how he thought the crimes the Nazi committed against the Polish during their occupation came down to 5 main policies that displayed their will to completely destroy the Polish nation which included:

1) The mass killings of Poles

2) Bringing “serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group”,

3) Planned deterioration of living conditions "calculated to bring about their destruction

4) Implementation of various "measures intended to to prevent births within the group" such as promotion of abortions, burdening pregnant women, etc.

5) Forced transfer of Polish children to German families

He used these instances as proof for the Nazi plan to completely terminate the Polish identity and these markers are still used by the Genocide Convention as proof of genocidal intentions. He also used this word to describe the atrocities that Nazi committed against the Jewish people during the Holocaust. Lemkin also spent the rest of his time advocating for an international convention to stop the rise of “future Hitlers”, and on December 9, 1948 the U.N. authorized the Genocide Convention, which had many of its clauses based on Lemkin’s own research and proposals.

Also this is a very narrow idea of racism and discrimination. Anti-semitism was rampant in American and Western society years before Hitler came into power. I mean in 1942, American literally turned away a boat load of Jewish people seeking refuge. People didn’t look at Jews and think “Oh man they look just like us, so their murders must be important and we have to create a word that describes their condition and the crimes being committed against because we care sooooo much about them”. In reality, most people didn’t really given a shit about all of the Jews being murdered, only when America and the West was being directly threatened by war did they retaliate.

So no, the West didn’t coin the word Genocide to describe the atrocities that Nazi Germany inflicted because the victims looked like them or whatever, the word was created by Polish-Jewish lawyer to describe the oppression that his people were put under.

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (again, if you look extra closely), a lot of cussing (are we still surprised)

masterlist | part 1 (although ig this makes sense on its own), part 3 (i didn't plan this), part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

“What.”

It’s less of a question and more of a statement—a statement sputtered in the typically demanding way characteristic of the one and only Bakugou Katsuki.

The Bakugou Katsuki who happens to be your boss for a good (debatable) three and a half years now, who you also have to spend overtime with until who knows what time to discuss what’s become rocky employee relations in the Ground Riot agency.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion or irrational annoyance—both, really—before you quickly school your expression into a neutral one. You riffle through the documents rather absentmindedly, avoiding his gaze before shooting back with: “What do you mean what?”

“I meant,” he leans back on his office chair that you know he singlehandedly picked out for its superior ergonomic design because he’s meticulous like that, “what the fuck is wrong with your face.”

“Excuse me?”

Your retort is laced with more indignant anger than intended, but at this point in the night, you cannot for the life of you bring yourself to care about your tone. It’s been a long day, and you weren’t about to let your stupid boss make fun of your appearance, of all things.

Bakugou probably senses the significant change in your demeanor, because his eyes widen in surprise ever so slightly before he sits up and opens his mouth to explain himself.

“You’ve been looking like you accidentally drank spoiled milk for the past hour and the shit aftertaste isn’t going away.” He haughtily shakes his head, and it takes everything in you not to jump him and choke your boss.

To your disdain, however, he continues.

“It’s either you spit it out or I’m going to have to force you to tell me what’s wrong.”

You gape at him. Whatever you expected him to say, it wasn’t that.

As quickly as you can, however, you attempt to regain your bearings and at least try to seem nonchalant, clearing your throat as unbothered as possible to top it all off. “Well, working overtime to iron out office squabbles isn’t exactly my idea of a relaxing Friday night, thank you very much.”

He scoffs. “Bullshit.”

You almost get whiplash from how quickly you look at him. His brazen rudeness—which, right now, is worse than usual which is saying something, mind you—renders you incapable of saying anything aside from another winded: “Excuse me?”

He rolls his eyes. “Miss me with that bullshit, dumbass.”

You feel yourself heat up in irritation. “I thought I told you to stop calling me dumbass.”

“You’d rather I call you princess?”

At that, you break eye contact despite yourself, choosing to stare at his forehead instead. It’s still unnerving—looking at any part of his body, really—but it’s better than looking at him squarely and witnessing the smirk you know has taken over his unfairly handsome features.

Your voice is small, to your chagrin, when you reply. “That’s actually a lot worse.”

The man dares to bark out a laugh.

You continue to metaphorically choke him in your head.

“Okay then, dumbass,” he emphasizes the nickname and you are about 99% sure a pained expression is dancing across your face because Bakugou is observing you with even more amusement before his features settle into a look of seriousness.

“As I was saying before you missed the point entirely—I highly doubt you’re this bothered because of fucking overtime,” he eyes you cautiously before pressing on. “Something’s wrong.”

You don’t know if it’s the exhaustion of the week filled with workplace conflict, or the crushing news you received this morning in the mail, or the very fact that Bakugou, despite his roughness and the annoyingly persistent way he’s been poking at your mood like it’s an itchy scab, is looking at you with genuine concern—but you end up doing it.

You give in.

You feel the tears welling up in your eyes before you even get the chance to deny them permission to, and at the sight of them Bakugou sits up even straighter in alarm—and you don’t know what comes over you because you start laughing so hard, your hand shoots up to your stomach in an attempt to keep it from cramping.

“Oi.”

The expression on his face is so unbelievably baffled that you only end up cackling to yourself more.

It takes a few more minutes before the sillies are fully flushed out of your system and really, it only took you a glance at Bakugou to realize you probably looked demented just now.

Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, you quickly wipe away the tears in your eyes and muster enough courage to flash him a genuine smile.

To your delight, he flashes you one right back, albeit tentatively—one that is boyish and charming under the rather dim lights of his corner office.

Although he seemingly reboots to his default state because it’s immediately replaced by a frown and followed by: “You’re so weird, you know that?”

You snort and, before you can stop yourself: “Not as weird as my ex.”

At that, Bakugou’s entire countenance changes—he visibly stiffens in his seat and his eyebrows furrow in what you believe is confusion at the sudden mention of your past lover.

Bakugou says nothing, however, and so you take that as a sign to continue.

“Remember that meeting we had last March with Chef Asahi about our collaboration with his restaurant where I was late and you gave me shit for it? And when you asked I told you it was because I just got dumped over the phone?”

He gives you a curt nod, lips tight.

“Well,” you chuckle nervously, feeling embarrassed at your upcoming revelation, “I just found out that that ex is getting married in two months, and I’m invited.”

Neither of you says anything for the next—what feels like—hour.

Until Bakugou takes a sharp inhale, leans forward on his desk, and stares you down straight in the eyes: “I’ll do it.”

“What?”

He scowls at you like you’ve got a pea for a brain. “Don’t make me say it twice, dumbass.”

You frown at his hostility, your own bewilderment chipping away at your already thinning patience. “You’re not saying anything.”

Bakugou sighs, and he looks like what he is about to say next physically pains him.

“I’ll be your fucking date to the wedding.”

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik

special shoutout to @he3v4n for reading the prequel to this and following thereafter--inadvertently making me check out past writing and get inspired to write this <3

[unacknowledgeable]

Serial killer reader x yan!Batfam (bc who doesn’t like seeing reader finally go batshit crazy?)

This idea has been bouncing around my head for a while, so Imma toss it out here. A slim layout of it and testing the waters ig lol

 WARNING for disturbing imagery, animal abuse, broken bones, mentions of child neglect (obviously)

Reader arrives at the manor at the ripe ol’ age of 8, near fresh off the crime scene of their mothers murder

None of the transition is handled well, which, its Gotham so what do you expect really, so no real systems are put in place to help this child not only deal with a brand new environment, but also having just watched your mom brutally murdered in front of you

Bruce is already  5 years deep into batmanning shenanigans, with Dick 4 years into being robin

Since you weren't as obviously volatile as Dick was when his parents were murdered, Bruce didn't really see letting you in on the nightly activities as necessary

You never really pushed hard for a relationship with Bruce, believing that he was distant because you were not a choice, unlike Dick.

Your mom used to get like that, sometimes. she’d always been truthful about you being an accident, would close herself off for awhile, but at least she always came back, or she use too

You had Alfred, sure, but his experience with grieving children mostly involved allowing them to swear vengeance on all crime sooo, he’s more of a “I'll try to solve your problem, even though what you're needing is someone to comfort and listen to you” 

But you can't really fix the problem of a very dead mother

So you’re never really given a space to process, and it definitely festers

So what is a small child left to do with no real outlet for the terrible things they've witnessed? Well… recreation is a start.

You were left to your own devices quite often, and the manors grounds are so so big, so it's easy to see how you got away with your… activities, for awhile

Squirrels, birds, frogs, any animal small enough to fit into your tiny little hands, all met their end by them

It isn't until you’re a few years into your new school, that you catch a bird and show your classmates just how fragile and “cute” its bones were, and the funny little tweets it made when you snapped them

And your friends try to stop you, saying its wrong and mean, that the tight grip you have on the bird is "hurting” it, that you’re crazy and horrible

So you decide to just show your friends how wrong they are, that it's just a game

Soon, the teacher comes running over at the sounds of shouts and screaming, and finds a child with a broken arm, and a robin with a broken neck

With the reader stood above them, yelling that their friends aren't playing the game right

……………………………………

Alfred is the one who comes to get you, as Bruce is busy with something and he’s just absolutely beside himself, how did this happen? How hadn't he noticed anything?

He rushes through the necessities, assuring that all damages will be paid for, agrees to have you transferred to a different class then the boys whose arm you broke instead of being expelled (the wonders of unimaginable wealth)

The drive back to the manor (manor, not home, never home) is quiet, the silence is suffocating, for both of you, 

You’re mostly confused, you never really hid your “games” while at the manor, at least not on purpose, you'd just always wash up before going inside, not wanting to get anything dirty

And Alfred is angry, mostly at himself, he prided himself on his ability to see everything, to always know, but this? He was completely blindsided.

So yes he's angry, not really at you, but you don't know that, you can only see the slight shake of his shoulders, the white knuckled grip on the wheel, the frown pulling his wrinkled face and the furrow of his brow

And all you hear is the quiet, ”Never do such a thing again”, as the car pulled up the driveway to the manor

That very night, Bruce brings Jason to the manor

And the urgent conversation Alfred planned on having with Bruce fell to the wayside

That's some of what I’ve got so far lol, there's… a lot more honestly. The brain worms are hard at work. Hope you enjoyed!

[fairytaleendingss]

Room for One More?

Chapter 9

Summary: Secrets are revealed on New Years Eve.

CW: Alcohol consumption, sexual references, mention of cigarettes, swearing, lots of drama.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

--

"YOU SLEPT WITH SIRIUS?!"

"Shh! Mary keep your voice down," you uttered, looking around to see how many of your coworker's heads had swivelled towards you in response to Mary's loud exclamation.

"Sorry," she grimaced. "I'm just.. I'm in shock."

You sighed and leaned back where you were perched on the corner of her desk. "I think I am a bit as well."

There was a pause.

"Well, was it good?"

"Mary! Oh my god!" you groaned and threw a hand over your face to hide your mortification.

"What? I'm just asking. I can't say that I haven't imagined it once or twice myself-"

You slapped her gently across the shoulder with the back of your hand. "You're distrubed. You know that?"

She smirked. "You know you love me."

You rolled your eyes affectionately at your friend. "Anyway, we'd been drinking and it was Christmas and we were having such a wonderful time. I think we just got swept up in it all and now I don't know what to do. Things have been kind of... weird between us."

"Well have you guys talked about it?" Mary inquired.

"That's the thing. Afterwards he just kind of moved on like it never happened. I don't know if he thinks it was a mistake or something but it's stressing me out."

"Hmm," a thoughtful look crossed Mary's face as she took everything in. "Well how are you feeling about it? Do you think it was a mistake?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. "No? I-I don't think so. I dont know."

A look of realisation washed over Mary's face. "Do you like him??"

"I mean, of course I like him. I'm just not sure I like like him."

Your friend sighed exasperatedly. "Oh my god! We're not in Primary School, just answer the damn question!"

"Fine! I guess the answer is... yes?" you sighed. "But whatever! Does it even make a difference? He's made it exceptionally clear that he doesn't feel the same way."

"Look," Mary huffed, her expression growing sincere. "Sirius is great. He's fun and friendly and a total flirt but he's also been known to be a little emotionally constipated. Just be honest with him. Talk to him about it. He's not going to be able to pick up on any signals you're trying to send him."

You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a breath throught your nose. "Ugh fine."

"Good girl," Mary smiled. "Now go away. I actually have some work to get done today."

"Oh fine. I suppose I know when I'm not wanted," you teased, getting up and walking back towards your desk.

"Love you!" Mary called lightheartedly as you walked away.

"Yeah, yeah," you joked in response.

As you arrived back at your desk and slumped down in your chair, prepared to get back to work, a head peaked down at you over the cubical.

"Oh, you're back, I see."

You jumped slightly at the unexpected voice and looked up to see its perpertrator.

"Yes, Glenn. Hi. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Glenn was a new employee in your office and he sat in the cubical opposite yours. He was only a few years older than you and he was tall and fit with short blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. In the few weeks you'd known him for, he'd been particularly friendly towards you and recently you'd been getting the idea that he had taken a liking to you.

You weren't interested of course. He was an attractive guy but not really your type. And with everything going on with Sirius over the last week, you'd been making a effort to put some distance between you. You definitely weren't looking for anything of that nature right now and you didn't want to give him the wrong impression. However, Glenn was nothing if not persistant.

"Actually, I was just wondering if you had any plans for new years tonight? A few of my mates are throwing a party and you're welcome to join us if you're interested."

You sent him you're most empathetic smile. "That sounds lovely but unfortunately I already have some plans with my friends."

He sighed, flashing you a grin that looked suspiciously rehearsed. "Oh well. No problem. It was worth a shot. You have fun tonight."

"You too, Glenn."

As the man dissapeared back over the divider, you let out a heafty sigh. Tonight was surely going to be interesting.

--

The view was impeccable from the bar where your friends had gathered to spend New Years. In fact, seated beside a huge floor to ceiling window, you suspected you'd have a clear view of the New Years fireworks.

It was a classy joint, one that Dorcas had managed to get you access to through one of her fancy lawyer contacts.

Everyone was assembled on stools around a table, looking out over the London skyline. It was about four hours until midnight and the group was chatting excitedly in the lead up.

"I've got shots!" Mary called out and everyone cheered as she returned to the table with a tray.

She passed the drinks around and then took her seat beside you.

"Well, I suggest a toast!" James called out, grabbing the attention of the group. "To a wonderful year ahead, and many more memories with old, and new, friends!"

He emphasised the last line with a pointed look in your direction and you felt your cheeks growing hot.

"Cheers!" Marlene shouted enthusiastically and the others echoed her sentiments, clinking glasses and swallowing their drinks.

The burning of the liquor was welcomed as the drink ran down your throat. You'd been thinking a lot about what Mary had said to you in regards to your situation with Sirius. And as he sat beside you, laughing animatedly at one of Peter's stories, it only confirmed your worst fears. Maybe you were starting to develop feelings for your roommate. You grimaced at the thought. Things were bound to get messy in situations like this.

"So guys," Sybil piped up from across the table. "Let's all go around and say our New Years resolutions."

"Oh, I'll go first!" James volunteered. "I hope my team continues to play a great season annnddd... I want to work out more."

There was a collective groan.

"Come on, James. That's not a real one!" Mary complained.

Sirius chuckled, taking a pointed sip of his drink. "Yeah! You already work out like 7 times a day!"

"Ugh, okay fine!" James responded with groan. He thought for a moment. "How about this one. I'd like to fall in love this year."

You didn't miss the way his eyes flickered across the table towards Lily and you felt your heart sink. Lily seemed to take notice a well as she averted her eyes, taking a heafty gulp of the drink in her hand.

"Aww, James. Always the romantic, aren't you?" Marlene chuckled.

"Shut up." James rolled his eyes playfully. "Your turn then, Marls."

"Okay," She took a deep breath. "My goal this year is to become super rich and famous and sucessful."

"I second that!" Mary called across the table and you giggled as they clinked their glasses.

"Y/n. Your turn," Dorcas announced.

"Oh okay, um..." you thought for a moment, your gaze flashing to James and Remus across the table, then over to Sirius, who was watching you expectanly, a playlful glimmer in his stormy eyes.

You then looked back towards the rest of the group. "This year, I'd like to spend some more time with you lovely people."

A round of cooing echoed across the table and Mary threw her arms around you.

"Well aren't you just the sweetest!"

"Oh, and I'd like to work more on my novel," you added.

"Alright, alright. Sirius, you're up!" Marlene chimed.

The boy beside you pursed his lips, looking off into the distance as if deep in thought. Then, after a long moment, he turned back to all of you with a mischievous smirk on his lips.

"This year, I want to have lots of amazing sex!"

"Ew. Sirius, you're so foul," Lily exclaimed, followed by a symphany of similar sentiments from the other members of the group.

While everyone else was distracted, grumbling and groaning about Sirius' bluntness, the man leaned down towards you.

"You look great tonight, by the way." He whispered into your hair.

You gulped thickly, not quite sure what to do with yourself. You opted for downing the remainder of your Vodka, Lime and Soda.

--

As the evening drew on, you found yourself growing more anxious in Sirius' presence. You weren't quite sure what his game was, whether it was the alcohol or he was just feeling extra bold tonight, but he'd been suspiciously flirtatious.

You didn't know how to respond. Part of you wanted to let him. To let him woo you and go crawling back for more of what you'd had together on Christmas Night. However, the other, more logical part of you, told you that was a terrible idea. He was your roommate afterall. The last thing you wanted was to start some complicated friends-with-benefits situation with a guy you lived with, especially one that you had sort of, maybe, possibly had caught feelings for.

You downed another drink, feeling the alcohol grip you and hoped it would help to ease the nerves ever so slightly. You realised then, that you were staring.

Sirius had gone to the bar to order another round of drinks and you'd been watching with bated breath as he sent his signature smile to a girl wearing an explicitly tight black dress. You noticed the way she leaned forward, pressing her cleavage up against the bar as she spoke to him. God, could she be anymore obvious?

"Calm the hell down, y/n!" You thought to yourself. "It's not like you guys are together. He can flirt with whoever he wants."

"Hey, are you okay?" you raked your eyes away from the scene as a voice came from beside you.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine," You muttered absently, too distracted to notice that it was Remus who asked the question.

"Okay, never have I ever... made out with more than one person on the same night!" Mary's voice rang out and you forced your attention back to the group.

You weren't sure when this game had begun but you suspected it was suggested by one of the girls (likely Mary or Marlene) as a way to pass the final hour until midnight. You hadn't participated in this game since probably highschool, but you were all a few drinks in at this point so you figured, what the hell?

You watched as Marlene, James and Dorcas all took a sip. Then Lily sent Mary a pointed look.

"Come on, Mary. That's not how the game works. You have to say something you haven't done."

"I haven't!" Mary responded. Then she paused. "Oh wait, yeah I definitely have."

Everyone chuckled as she took a drink.

"Alright! Dorcas! Your turn." Mary nudged the girl in the side.

Dorcas rolled her eyes. "For the record, I just want to say, I think this game is stupid."

"Come on babe. Don't be a party pooper!" Marlene exclaimed, leaning in towards her girlfriend. "How else are we supposed to learn everyone's deepest darkest secrets."

Dorcas sighed and shook her head but there was a hint of a smile on her face. She really could never say no to Marlene.

"Ugh, fine. Never have I ever stolen something."

"Well that's a hard one," Mary muttered. "What do we count as stealing? Because I've stolen stuff from James a ton of times."

"Oi!" James shouted, looking positively affronted. Mary sent him an apologetic smile.

"No, not like that," Dorcas clarified. "It had to have been from an actual shop."

You all sat up straight for a moment, curiously looking around the group to see if anyone had. Hesitantly, Peter lifted his glass to his lips.

"Pete! What the hell!" James exclaimed.

"I don't know, I went through a phase in highschool!"

"What sort of stuff did you take?" Marlene pressed.

Peter shrugged. "Chocolate and ciggarettes, mostly."

There was an eruption of laughter that rippled across the table at Peter's revelation.

"Wow, I didn't know there was a degenerate among us," Lily teased, watching Peter's face flush bright red.

"Okay, okay. My turn!" Marlene said, once the laughter died down. "Never have I ever... gotten really sloshed and fallen down the stairs at my 18th birthday party"

"Hey! That's not fair!" James moaned, taking a sip of his beer. "You can't do targeted ones!"

Marlene just shrugged. "Sorry, but I don't think that was established in the rules."

James smirked. "Fine then! Never have I ever had sex with someone at this table."

Your blood ran cold for a moment as you glanced back towards the bar. You sighed in relief when you saw that Sirius was still over there. In that case, you technically hadn't slept with anyone at the table. You were off the hook for now.

Marlene rolled her eyes at James and took a drink, as well as Dorcas, Peter and Sybil, however, you watched James' eyes widen as Mary also took a long sip.

"Mary!" Lily hissed across the table. Your heart plummeted.

"What?" Mary shrugged, the alcohol clearly having gone to her head. "We have to! It's the rules."

"Wait! Hold on," Marlene murmered, her eyes drifting between the two girls. "Did you guys..."

There was a heavy anticipatory silence that hung over the table as you all awaited Lily's response. The girl grimaced, as she tried to muster some kind of explanation.

It was then that her eyes drifted up to meet James' pleading ones.

"Lily?" the boy asked softly. Your heart broke for him.

"So I guess the cat's out of the bag huh?" the girl sighed. "Mary and I have sort of been seeing each other. Romantically."

"Holy shit!" Marlene shouted, candid and straight to the point as she usually was in these situations.

"How long has this been going on?" Dorcas questioned.

"It's still really new," Lily explained.

"We were just trying to figure out the right time to tell you guys," Mary added.

"So you're the one Mary has been seeing?" James murmered.

"Yes," Lily responded. "I'm sorry James but you had to know it was never going to work out between us."

The boy sighed, running a hand through his unruly curls. "Yeah, I know."

Then he started to stand. "I think I just need some air for a minute."

"James, wait-" Remus reached out to grab his arm but James shook him off.

"I just need minute," he repeated, grabbing his coat from the back of his chair and hurrying towards the exit. Part of you wanted to go after him but the other part recognised that he probably needed some space to process things.

"Sorry, everyone. I didn't mean to ruin the night," Mary murmered folornly.

"No hun! you didn't ruin anything," you comforted.

"Yeah, we're really happy for you two," Dorcas added.

"Really?"

Everyone nodded.

"Absolutely. You both deserve to be happy," Remus confirmed.

Wide smiles crossed over the girls' faces.

--

It was two minutes until midnight and Sirius was nowhere to be seen. Despite your better judgement, you couldn't help but feel slightly disapointed. You supposed that there was some small aspect of your mind that hoped Sirius would be your New Years kiss.

You knew it was wishful thinking, especially when you hadn't even spoken about what happened between you, but with how he'd been acting towards you throughout the night, you'd allowed yourself to nurture that flicker of hope.

As people crowded around the window and the countdown began, you found your eyes searching the room for the dark haired man, wondering if just maybe, he'd make a last minute appearance.

"Five, four, three, two..."

You scanned the space one last time.

"One!"

You're last flicker of hope died out as your eyes finally landed on his form.

"Happy New Year!"

The shouts and cheers faded into the background as you watched Sirius press his lips to those of the boob-y blonde you'd seen him flirting with before.

The moment seemed to go in slow motion. You watched from afar as he tangled his hand in her hair, just as he'd done in yours only a week prior.

"Of course," you thought. "Typical"

It was Sirius Black you were talking about. You were stupid to think you meant anything more to him than a casual night of fun.

In an instant, you turned on your heel and walked towards the door, the sounds of the party fading into the background. You decided, instead of bumming around waiting for Sirius to notice you, you'd go look for James, just as you should've done much earlier.

The cold hit you like a block of cement as you stepped outside onto the street. It didn't take you long to find him.

He was sitting on the curb, outside of he bar, arms resting on his knees as he looked up towards the sky. Another explosion sounded and a flash of colour filled the air. In the distance, you could hear the cheers of excited people all around as they celebrated.

"Happy New Year, James."

He turned to look at you and in the flash of light, as another firework flickered across the sky, you were able to notice the faint tear tracks that lined his cheeks.

"Oh hey." he sniffled, rubbing a hand beneath his glasses and trying to regain a semblance of composure.

BANG!

You flopped unceremoniously onto the ground beside him as another flash filled the sky. You gave him a sympathetic smile. Funnily enough, in that moment, you knew exactly how he felt.

"Are you okay?" You asked him gently.

He let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah. I will be."

BANG!

"Good."

You both turned your gazes back to the display, taking in the beautiful array of colours filling the air. It wasn't quite the view you'd expected for the night, but somehow, that didn't seem to matter.

As you continued to watch the fireworks, you felt the gentle touch of a hand wrapping around your own. You smiled slightly as your fingers intertwined.

BANG!

Slowly, you shuffled closer and leaned into him, gently resting your head on James broad shoulder.

You stayed like that a while, just taking in the show, and each other's company.

--

Taglist:

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[bigwishes]

Big Man on Campus

(a trade with @alphajocklover)

Trent had been going to college for almost 4 years at this point, he was 21 and steadily approaching his 22nd birthday and approaching his graduation even faster. He had spent most of his time inside, working on his computer engineering degree or gaming. He didn't really care for the college party scene, he'd much rather stay in his tidy little single all weekend until monday classes.

but when it finally sank in how close it was to being over Trent couldn't help but have a little bit of regret, should he have hit the gym with the other guys on his floor? should he have joined the casual rowing team just for some fun and exercise? was computer science really what he wanted a degree in? Senior doubt and regret flooded his mind, but there was still an upside. 4 months were left, 4 months he'd make the most of.

Trent went on the college forums looking for something to do, he thought about a few of the options but found two that he really liked. The first was a dungeons and dragons club the second was listen as an exercise club but it also seemed to be a project for two sport science students.

Transformation Experiment Ground: "Our names are Brody and Clark, we are looking for young males on campus who are out of shape looking to get in shape and help with our experiment. Come form a sense of community, get the body you desire and help us with our research!" Monday came and classes went. Normally Trent would go home and smash out a few ours gaming but it was time for his clubs to start. First he had the sport experiment thing, the only issue was he only had a few minutes to get to the dnd club across campus, but he wasn't sure how sweaty he'd get or if he'd need a shower. He just had to hope there was a shower at the campus gym.

Trent checked his phone, he thought he was going to the campus gym but the address was for a room in the athlete scholarship dorms. Trent walked passed the gym and into the building next to it. The halls had photos of previous college athletes plastered up between the doors.

Finally he arrived, right on time, room 223. Trent raised his hand to knock when the door suddenly swung open. Standing before him was a jacked guy with spiked blonde hair in a black tank and grey sweat pants and standing next to him just slightly down the hall was an equally jacked dude with shaggy brown hair in the same outfit.

"hey bro what's up I'm Brody and just over there is Clark"

Brody stuck out his hand but when Trent went to shake it he realised Brody was waiting for a fist bump not a hand shake, Trent awkwardly closed up his hand and bumped Brody's fist. Clark let out a douchey laugh that echoed out the door.

"Come in man, come in"

"You are, the only one comin" Clark sighed

"oh, was I the only one who signed up?"

Trent started to get anxious, guys who looked like this normally bullied him and now he was going to be on his own with them for an hour. Trent made his way into the room, following Brody and Clark.

The athlete dorms were so much bigger than the other rooms he'd been in. There was a large lounge space with a small kitchen, a door to a private bathroom and two bedrooms either side of the lounge.

In the corner of the lounge there was a small fold out chair and table. On the table were 5 green vials and what looked to be an oculus rift stripped down to its basic components.

"so ummm, where do we start with like a workout plan?"

"nah dude, I mean I can totally write you one but this is a bit more of a series of practice experiments" Brody said as he walked over to the small table

"get him hooked up man, I'm gonna grab my laptop with the video"

Trent followed Brody over to the small fold out chair

"its nothing too fancy but our class mates got the actual sports lab, apparently our experiment is pseudo-science"

"what exactly are you guys studying?"

"we are trying to see if active suggestion and nutrients redirection can get people to actively pursue fitness"

"oh damn, I just thought this was like, a workout class" Trent sat down as Brody began setting up the make shift visor. "if you don't mind me asking, what are you guys majoring in?"

"well I'm getting a double major in bio-chemistry and psychology"

"and I'm getting a double major in computer engineering and software development" Clark said as he walked back in carrying an open laptop

Trent's jaw almost dropped to the floor, he'd come here thinking he was going to be made to workout by two dumb jocks who were just going to scribble times on a napkin, but instead he's participating in a proper experiment designed by two people probably leagues smarter than him.

"okay man its real easy, we are gonna hook up an image display for a few minutes and you'll take a shot of this" Clark said as he handed over one of the small green vials.

"errrr, is it safe?"

Clark burst out laughing and Brody couldn't help but crack a smile.

"yeah man, its just a diet supplement you can get offline, fda approved, basically it tells your muscles they want to hold water and your fat cells to burn"

Trent downed the green liquid as Clark flicked the visor down over his eyes. There was a short beep sound before images began to flash on the visor. Flashes of guys working out, of dumbbells and the words you are a jock and you love working out and muscle.

Trent couldn't help it, he burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry guys this is so corny" He laughed.

The other two began to chuckle as well as the room filled with laughter.

"Look dude, Its the closest thing I could find on YouTube, its about the suggestions" Clark laughed

Suddenly the lights in the room began to flicker and all 3 globes in the lounge burnt out at once.

"what the-" Brody and Clark said in unison, but they were interrupted when sparks began to fly off the oculus. They rushed to try and take it off Trent but were shocked by the electricity. Sparks shout out of the power point in the wall and the two boys watched helplessly as Trent began to convulse in his seat.

Trent let out a painful and stalled out moan as the electricity travelled over the oculus and shocked his temples.

The room was dark was illuminated every few seconds by a shock or spark and the two boys could swear they could see something, something happening to Trent's body. A few more seconds passed before it finally stopped.

Brody and Clark stood there stunned, the sound of beeping could be heard from the kitchen as the oven entered safety mode, but a more concerning noise echoed in the boys ears. The sound of sizzling. Clark carefully walked over to the curtains and opened them, the room filling with light and showing them what had happened to Trent.

He sat in the chair with his head slumped forward, his chin hitting his chest as smoke was rising off the device on his head and all over his body. But what the two saw in the dark wasn't a trick of the light, Trent had indeed gotten bigger. His skinny fat body had expanded, he'd become more lean, his muscles more pronounced and most of the fat on his body had melted away.

Trent let out a moan as a string of drool fell from his mouth

"OH THANK FUCK HE'S ALIVE" Clark cried out with a sigh of relief.

The two rushed over and pulled the device off his head. Trent's eyes instantly responded as he looked up at the two of them.

"wooahh bro, huhu, that was intence" Trent mumbled

"yeah, thank god you're okay" said Brody.

Trent lifted his arm to the side and flexed his bicep and let out a dumb chuckle.

"errr, dude, real quick, what's your name?"

"Trent, duuuhuhuhu, you fuckin forgetful bro?"

Trent seemed okay but something was wrong, even with the short interaction the three of them had, Clark and Brody knew something had happened to him.

"hey Trent, what are you" Brody asked

Trent smirked as he lifted his other arm, completing a double bicep pose.

"a jock, duuuhuhuhu"

Trent stood up and effortlessly pushed passed the two as he started heading towards the door.

"well at least we know his motor functions weren't damaged"

Clark and Brody quickly followed him

"Dude, I really think you should go to the medical centre"

"Nah bro, I got dnd like NOW I gotta boost"

"wait Trent!" Clark yelled out "err, dnd thats an interesting hobbie for a jock, what else are you into"

Trent spun around on the spot with a big smirk on his face

"glad you asked dude, I love three things, gymmin, gamin, dndenin..dndin.....dndining....." Trent's voice trailed off as he tried to finish forming his catchy sentence

"and, what about your major? what are you studying?" Brody asked

"errr huhuhu, like, what's a major?" Trent said turning around to leave again

"FUCK DUDE I THINK WE ACTUALLY FRIED HIS BRAIN" Clark started to panic

"I mean, yeah, but it seems like his core interests and that jock hypno video have combined into a new personality, I dunno if we friend his brain more, re-wrote it"

"DUDE NOW IS NOT THE FUCKING TIME FOR YOUR INTEREST IN THE HUMAN BRAIN WE FUCKING CREATED GYM BRO FRANKENSTIEN"

Trent walked out the door into the crowded hallway. Students were all talking over the top of each other in front of their dorm rooms trying to work out what was going on. The two boys raced out to follow Trent.

"Trent dude wait!, errr, tell me about your dnd character" Brody called out desperately trying to stop him from leaving

Trent continued to power forward through the crowd, pushing through them like water with his new powerful body.

"well bro, I was gonna play some like, lil spell caster dude, but like, i dunno bro, numbers are hard, so like, I think I'm just gonna play, like, some sick fucking, roided out minotaur with a huge axe"

Brody was struggling to keep up with Trent, they both had already lost Clark to the sea of students. Brody grabbed onto the back of Trent's shirt which caused him to stop and turn around.

"woah lil dude, if you wanted some action all you had to do was ask, I got an 8 inch python with your na-"

"WHAT!, ha, oh, no dude, errr, that's" Brody's face turned bright red as he got flustered.

"no? damn too bad, you lil fuckin, science dudes are kinda cute"

Brody was stunned, some how all this muscle and new persona had also added a level of charm to Trent that dug right through to his core. But it was too late to grab his attention again. Trent had already pulled away and gone off out of Brody's sight...

One week had passed since the extreme power surge that had hit the Athlete Scholarship Dorms. There almost wasn't a single incident other than a few blown light bulbs and some damaged electronics....almost. The college had found out about Trent, no matter how hard Brody and Clark tried to hide it. However the two got off lucky. Both the College and the investigation into what happened deemed it was an accident that unfortunately resulted in what was being called "Personality Death". Trent had an entirely healthy body and brain with no signs of damages, but something had happen to completely re-write who and what he was.

The college couldn't let Trent graduate, he couldn't even remember what he had enrolled for, but the college still found a purpose for him. The hid the extreme and sudden body transformation from the investigation and gave Trent a 'job'. His official title was research assistant but he was too stupid for any serious work. His real job was to sit there and be injected with experimental steroids. Forced to grow like some roided out lab rat. Not that he cared, every time Trent put on even an ounce of muscle he'd spend hours in the mirror flexing. He was the biggest guy on campus.

[6 years later]

"okay babe, just hold still"

"aahhh, fuck, it feels so good when it goes in"

"you are so weird, I hate getting injections"

"well huhuhu, when you got a sexy lil piece of meat to do em, its a huge fuckin turn on dude"

Brody stood up from the kitchen table and began to clean up the injection kit, chuckling as he did it.

"Trent, that's so cheesy"

Trent stood up, the sound of wood scraping against the floor filled the room as he effortlessly and accidentally moved the entire dining table.

"will it make me look like Captain America huhuhu?"

"babe...seriously, I think we passed the Captain America stage about 150 pounds ago"

"then hit me with all 6 and make me the hulk" Trent pressed his body against Brody and the table.

Brody was no stranger to 300+ pounds pressing against him "I said no Trent" a slight grin cracked across Brody's face, 'besides, for all I know that one shot will add another 50 pounds, we gotta wait and see."

Trent stood there staring into Brody's eyes with an expression that could only be described as a computer failing to load a basic program 10 times in a row.

"Then jab me with all 6 and give me" Trent stopped to count on his fingers, "120 pounds of muscle" a large smirk crept across his face, proud he was able to do the math in his head.

Brody rolled his eyes and chuckled

"that'd be 300 pounds babe" Brody packed up the rest of the kit and left the kitchen.

Trent went to follow after him, he had hit the gym already today so no other thoughts existed in his mind other than getting attention for how big he was from Brody, but as he walked out the kitchen he caught a glimpse of himself and began flexing in the lounge room mirror, completely forgetting what he had been doing just 2 seconds again...

He was so proud of the roided lab rat he had become...

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny is the son of Mr Freeze

So! Danny was adopted as a Kid.

It was never really that big of a thing to him, just a small footnote in his life. He never really cared about finding his Bio Family, or even looking into it at all. His new Family was enough for him, no need to complicate it all that much.

But then, the Accident happened.

After he got shocked by the Portal and passed out, his parents had rushed him to the hospital. Apparently his Heart had been pulsing irregularly, so they had decided to not take any chances.

While at the Hospital, the Doctors noticed a particularly strange result in his blood tests. So, a few months after he had been discharged (it took a while for the blood work to come back), they asked him to come back in for further testing.

At first, Danny was scared that they had found out about his Powers. But when he walked into the Room, they had other news.

He had been diagnosed with Huntingtons Disease, a rare neurological condition that apparently had no known cure. The only possible way to contract the Disease was to have inherited it from one of his parents.

They said it was in its early stages at the moment, but as time passed he would become weaker and weaker, and he would become more sickly. They diagnosed that he had just over 5 years left before he died, and there were no treatments or cures that could save him.

Danny got a second opinion with Frostbite, since he knew more about Ghost Biology and might know if it was truly a fatal Disease for a Halfa.

And yeah, it was. No matter how much of him is Ghostly, he is still half Human, and the Human Disease in his body can and will kill him. And there's no guarantee that he will become a full Ghost upon death. For all he knows it will just End him.

So, Danny had a time limit to find a way to cure himself. He didn't have much time to study, what with the constant Ghost Attacks, his School Work, and keeping his parents from attacking innocent Ghosts, but he managed where he could.

Speaking of his parents, they had been looking into the disease as well. But they seemed convinced that they could find a way to save him by simply dissecting a Ghost to study its biology. (It was as if this was just a convenient excuse to dive deeper into their obsession)

After a while, he mamaged to resolve the Ghost Attack stuff and got his grades under control, but he was still making little progress on finding a Cure.

So, he looked into other people who might be studying the same Disease, to see if he could look I to their research. But that search came up empty.

There was nobody who wanted to fund research into such a rare disease, so nobody was studying it. There was one man who was studying it, but he was a convicted Supervillain. Danny decided that he would be his backup plan, since he wasn't sure how Jazz would react if he teamed up with a known Villain.

He just kept on studying his condition.

...

It had been about 4 years since his initial diagnosis, and Danny was 18. And he needed help.

He had made no progress in developing a Cure, and his condition had worsened. He could barely walk without a limp anymore, and his limbs felt weaker by the day.

He did manage to get some luck when he found out that lowering his Body Temperature would slow the progress of the Disease. He was never more thankful for his Ice Powers than on the day he figured that out.

But he had hit a roadblock. He needed help, and unfortunately there was only one place he could go to get it. The Supervillain he had read about all that time ago, Mr Freeze.

Now he was headed to Gotham City to seek his help, even if it meant becoming a Villlain himself.

[reputationolivia]

try again?

would anyone be interested in this, i thought of this plot awhile back and started working on it recently but i feel like its just gotten long and idk i feel like it might be a bit boring? so idk if anyone would be up for reading this! but i put a little snippet of it here so if anyone sees this please share your thoughts! :)

18+ minors dni

warnings: none for this one yet.

summary: you and harry dated for almost 5 years but you ended things, only problem? you got a cat together three years ago that you co-parent.

wc: 1.8k

I glanced around in search for opal as I tied the laces on my shoes. She’s always been good at hiding when she sees her crate out and ready for her, but i was ready for her today with her favorite treat in hand. "Opal, where are you baby?” I called for her. pacing through the living room I heard a faint meow coming from the kitchen, and i sighed, already knowing where she would be - the narrow gap between the counter and the fridge. I bend down and waved her treat in front of her little face to get her interested in it. “Come on out sweetie,” i coaxed, slowly her fluffy face popped out of the gap and she began licking the treat. I took this as my opportunity and gently tugged her out and scooped her up, letting her have the entire treat now as I walked over to her crate.

As I helped opal get settles into her crate I tried not to think too much about the trip ahead and what’s to come. The keys jingled in my hands as i snatched them from there small side table near the front door creating a slight sound of normalcy between all of the craziness my life has been lately. I slung my headphones around my neck, and with opal securely inside her carrier i finally stepped out into the bright, sunlit street. I caught my reflection in a car window and felt a bit ridiculous - sunglasses on, headphones dangling, and cat in tow - i shrugged it off and began my journey to the subway station.

The subway ride was pretty uneventful, at least it was at first. Opal was sitting quietly in her crate beside me as she watched the window in front of us, watching the city blur through the window. I put my headphones on and mindlessly browsed through Apple Music, i eventually decided on just playing “my station” after not being able to settle on any of my existing playlists. I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular really, i mean besides the fact that I was currently on my way to meet my ex boyfriend of 4 1/2 years. As if my phone knew what was on my mind a familiar melody began playing, i felt my body tense as i recognized it immediately, my chest tightened and the air suddenly became too thick to breathe. I reached for my phone to skip to the next song. It was his song, of course it’d be my luck that’s the song that starts playing as I’m on my way to see him again. Of course, skipping it didn’t help, the damage was done.

Moving on has been hard, actually it’s been more than hard, it’s been hell, absolutely brutal. We were together for so long, four and a half years. That’s a long time to share a life with someone, it wasn’t just the memories that lingered though - it was our plans, the dreams we shared that we’d stay up all night talking about, when the world felt ours. Marriage, kids, a beautiful house with a garden, i thought it was all within reach, that it was just a matter of time. But now? Just the sound of his voice in a song sends me spiraling. It’s only been a couple months since we broke up, and seeing him as often as I do doesn’t exactly help with the whole “moving on” thing.

But now, all we have left is opal.

Opal. Our little baby. She wasn’t quite a child, but the closest thing we had. We adopted her when she was just a baby, three months old. After we broke up neither of us could bear to part with her. we had gotten her together so in the end we decided on co-parenting opal, which isn’t ideal but at the very least she had two people who loved her, and despite our failed relationship i knew she was safe with him. Even if seeing him every time i dropped her off still hurt.

The familiar ding of the subway pulled me out of my thoughts and i realized we were at our stop. I pulled my headphones back down to the back of my neck as i stood up, then grabbed opals crate and hopped off the subway. I felt like the subway ride ended far too quickly, and before i realized it i was walking up the now somewhat familiar street towards his apartment. as i got closer and closer each step i took felt heavier than the last. It felt like i was dragging the weight of everything we left unsaid, unresolved. I tightened my grip on opals crate, her quiet purring served as a reminder that despite everything, some things hadn’t changed.

But most things had.

I wasn’t the same person who used to walk the streets of New York with him by my side, laughing at the stupidest things, talking absentmindedly about everything, and nothing at all. Yet now it feels like that was a lifetime ago when in reality it was just a few short months ago. And now here i was, walking the streets of the city we once shared, alone. Having to act normal in front of the man i loved, love but trying not to as I’m about to hand over our cat like it was just some business transaction, something normal.

Ahead i spotted him standing in front of his building. He was leaning against the wall near the doors to the lobby, looking down at his phone, a casual stance that didn’t betray any of the turmoil i was feeling. Typical harry, i thought. Always composed, always calm. I wished i could say the same for myself. I reached up with my free hand to adjust my sunglasses, hoping they hid more than just the sun from my eyes. As i approached his eyes were still glues to his phone, did he even notice i was walking up to him? Now a few feet away from him, i clear my throat in hopes of catching his attention, hoping to get this over with as soon as possible.

He finally looks up, his green eyes meeting mine, and though he couldn’t see mine due to my sunglasses i swore i could see something flash in his - recognition? Annoyance? Regret? I couldn’t quite place it. Maybe I’m just imagining things. “Hey,” he said, finally pushing off the wall and sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Hey,” i replied, keeping my voice as steady as i could even though every bit of me felt like breaking and like my voice was shaking with the tension of being this close to him. We walk into the lobby and i crouch down to let opal out. Immediately, she dashed out of her crate, and toward him, brushing against him with a happy meow. I couldn’t help the slight pang of jealousy i felt at how easily she seemed to adjust to this life of back and forth we’d created for her. I wish it was that easy for me.

“It’s been a while, nice shoes by the way.” Harry said as he crouched down, scratching opal behind her ears. He didn’t look at me when. He said it, instead keeping his eyes on opal. I couldn’t tell if it was a statement or a subtle dig when he said it’s been a while. “Yeah works been a bit hectic, and thanks.” I responded as i stood there awkwardly and hugged my arms to myself. Suddenly the distance between us felt a lot larger than just a few feet.

He stood up slowly, his gaze finally meeting mine, and i just wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. “How’ve you been?” He asked, for a moment i almost believed he actually wanted to know.

Good. You?”

“Same.” he said, glancing down at opal again.

The conversation stalled, i could feel the silence expanding between us, this is all we had now — awkward exchanges, empty words just to fill the space where something real used to be. I wanted so badly just to say something, anything that could break through the surface. I didn’t even know where to start, everything felt too different, too fragile and close to breaking. Opal meowed again, winding between our legs, completely oblivious to the tension hanging in the air between us.

I sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “She’s been eating normally. Likes to hide under the bed more often lately but that’s probably because of all the travel recently.” Harrys eyes softened a little. “Yeah, she’s always liked her hiding spots huh.” He paused, then added, “I’ve missed her.” His words hung there, suspended in the air between us for a while and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if he was just talking about opal. I nodded at his words, something about the way he said it lingered longer than it should have, i tried to push it aside, maybe I’m just reading too much into his words. Looking down at opal again i sighed, “i’ll uh, see you later.” I mumbled, now just wanting to get out and as far away from this awkward situation as possible. I turned to walk away before he could say anything, i felt his eyes on me as i made my way towards the lobby door. His gaze was sticking with me more than i wanted it to.

As i exited the building, i felt my footsteps heavy on the ground again. I took a deep breath, taking in the fresh air and trying to clear my head. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the what-ifs. How i wish i could be done with all this. I couldn’t afford to keep dwelling on our past, especially not with everything going on. At least through all this change i still had my job, and im fortunate enough to really love my job. My job has always been my escape, allowing be to take a break from my real life and everything i had going on. I could create stories outside my own, i could be in control, or at the very least, i could pretend to be. But in moments like this, i was just me - and I couldn’t pretend to be anyone else. I had no script or direction, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

The months after the breakup have been such a blur, it’s like I’ve been moving on autopilot. Filming, press events, and trying to keep it together in front of the cameras. I was good at that. I’ve played so many different roles, performed rehearsed lines perfectly, but none of that could’ve prepared me for the messy reality of seeing him. Missing him.

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 1)

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

​GIF: Originally posted by @tavners

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Home invasion. Voyeurism. Implied masturbation. Dream manipulation.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Wow, this took way longer to finish than I had originally planned. My head's been all over the place with trying (and thus far failing) to find a new job. The themes are very different to what I've written before; I hope it reads okay. Please let me know what you think. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

---------------------------------------------

Fate.

A phenomenon that governed every particle of matter within the known universe and even those beyond.

Some considered it a comforting concept that excused them from the burden of decision making, citing: "I'll leave it up to fate." For others the phrase was a cursory, throw-away comment or a romantic line they heard in the lyrics of a song.

The real truth of the matter was that Fate was a trio of immortal beings, goddesses, with sight so potent that they knew the past, present and future of every individual to have lived. The mythology of the Greeks, Romans and Norse hadn't been too far off with their stories of the Moirai, Parcae and Norns but of course, no humans really believed there to be any realism in myths. They were just stories. It didn't matter either way; they existed and had influence regardless of what the majority believed.

For beings such as The Endless siblings, the presence of Fate in the cosmos was not only real, but also something that affected even themselves.

For the King of Dreams, an eventuality had been prophesised long ago by The Kindly Ones that spoke of a bond that was to be forged between himself and a mortal.

Lord Morpheus, in his pride, had tried to be above such a foretelling, even questioning its validity because the notion of a mortal accepting his version of the universe seemed wholly implausible.

But he could not truly stop himself from wondering about you, reaching out to see if he could feel your presence in the minds of the dreamers he hosted.

It wasn't something he indulged in with frequency. More of a once-in a-decade interval. Enough to appease his curiosity.

Of course, this was put on hold during his imprisonment at Fawney Rig.

Morpheus had had much to contemplate during this period. The damage his absence caused to the collective subconscious, the decay of his realm, the loss of freedom and dignity. There was also a chance that you had been born and died in the 106 years he spent in captivity.

What if he was too late and had lost the chance of discovering who you were?

It was a nauseating prospect that scraped and scratched a space deep within his being; bleeding him of his remaining stores of hope that were so significantly depleted after the death of beloved Jessamy.

Despite the nasty emotional wound, finding you was a charge that he assigned at the end of his priorities after his escape.

Recovering his scattered tools, restoring the Dreaming, locating his absent creations, unravelling the mystery of Rose Walker and confronting Desire all had needed to come first.

The latter interaction had left Morpheus with a seething rage that was currently propelling him down the boards of the dock that sit above the Ocean of Dreams.

The dense mist in the air is buffeted by his movements and the only sounds are the tread of boots, the creak of wooden slats and the lap of water.

With each step, the liquid becomes choppier as it reacts to its master's mood and by the time he has reached the end of the dock, the surface of the water roils fervorously, completely in line with Morpheus' dangerous temperament.

The words of Desire's final silken-toned taunt echo in his mind with grating persistence.

"Oh, poor Dream. I really got under your skin this time, didn't I?"

He is loathe to admit there is truth in the question.

There are moments where Morpheus ponders the turn that the relationship between them has taken. How Desire went from being his favourite sibling to someone one shade shy of an adversary. Their faultless adeptness at provoking his temper and manipulating the events that encircle him would be impressive if not for the danger posed to humanity.

The agitated water eventually draws focus to how out of control he and his emotions have become. Morpheus knows he must get them in check, and quickly, for he knows the consequences all too well should he ignore it.

He clenches his fist and swallows it all down, pushing it deep inside his belly until the crackling entropy of the anger is fully dispelled.

Morpheus then sweeps his coat out behind him as he sinks lithely into a crouch. Trepidation nips at his heart and tugs his attention to a sobering thought.

This foray into the water may be fruitless.

You may be long gone and there would be no way of ever knowing you.

His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath; he has run out of excuses to not look, even if he is afraid of the outcome.

Long, delicate fingers dapple the surface of the inky ocean. The waves still at the touch, obedient to him with instancy.

He repositions to full height and reaches into his coat to find the pouch of sand stashed in the pocket. A handful of twinkling grains slip off his palm into the ocean, lighting the water it touches to a luminous green.

"Find my soulmate," Morpheus commands silently.

The intention is set. He steps off the dock into the water.

At first, like every other prior attempt, there is no sign of you. Morpheus floats submerged in the tepid liquid, filtering through the hubbub of countless other dreams and nightmares.

Then there is a pull.

It is faint yet indisputable. Warmth explodes in his chest and he groans inwardly from the delicious sensation of relief.

You are alive, and you are dreaming.

A path of radiance appears in the water, a line that shows your connection, and provides a location for him to hone in on.

Morpheus dives deeper without hesitation.

As he reaches the edge of your subconscious, he rejoices that he got a handle on his emotions. He wouldn't want your first perception of him to be one tinged with rage, however unaware you were of him, with your soulmate being the source.

He hesitates for a moment before entering the dream you are in and is somewhat taken aback by what he finds.

A room comprising of four blank walls, a floor, a ceiling and a door. There is but one other feature; a window, and its view is as non-descript and inoffensive as the internal space.

You stand by said window, head turned from him.

Despite being unable to see your face, he sees your anxiety with immediacy. It is an aura hovering about your body, being sucked into your lungs with every fast-paced breath.

You begin to throw glances towards the door. Morpheus filters through the layers of the dream. No one is scheduled to come across the threshold.

The more he observes, the more questions arise in Morpheus' mind.

What was making you so affected? What were you expecting to happen?

There's nothing in the scene that is intended to be unpleasant yet you are reacting in a way that most observers would characterise as unsettled.

Morpheus, despite not yet knowing you, doesn't like to see you this way. His dominant instinct is to end the dream but he quashes the desire to review the bigger picture.

The empty room dream was symbolic of a beginning.

It clicks into place.

What you were feeling, even if on a purely instinctual level, was the anticipation of meeting your soulmate and starting your new life.

Morpheus steps into the frame, just a couple of paces behind you.

You feel his presence instantly, eyes full to the brim with tears as you whirl around with a soft gasp.

You see him.

The tears spill and patter onto the white floor.

Morpheus reaches out, overcome by his need to provide comfort.

You disappear.

-------------------------------------

Morpheus is sat on his throne. He pores over the book he had located in the Dreaming's library a little over a week ago that contains the details of your life. It is something he has taken to doing when the impatience of waiting for you to fall asleep becomes too keen.

Your subconscious has him enraptured, watching it every night as if it is a stage show. Each dream he delves into is like the tug of fingers on a loose thread, your psyche has begun to unravel before him.

Everything from whims to cravings, hopes to fears. Your temperament, the things that delight and irk you. What drives you and demotivates you. He consumes it all with an insatiable hunger.

Based on the projection of yourself that he sees, there is no doubt that he is attracted to you.

All that prior haughty disregard for the Fates' prophecy has been cast aside like a negative thought in a meditation session. Morpheus is a romantic. A believer. He is ashamed to have even doubted your coming.

He wonders if it would vex Desire to learn of him finding his soulmate and by extension, the prospect of companionship, perhaps even physical intimacy or love.

It is all too easy to imagine the sickly sweet grin they would smile at him, shown to be fake by the almost imperceptible contempt glinting in their golden eyes.

Would his triumph drive them to distraction?

It is this smug sentiment that spurs his next decision. He wants more. The next logical step is to find you in the waking world.

He rises from his throne, a sure hand ready to bring forth his pouch of sand when he falters.

Tears pool in his eyes.

His mind is suddenly marred with the memories of what happened in 1916. The agony, mortification and rage that followed. He couldn't go through that kind of treatment ever again and the waking world expanded the risk of it transpiring.

"No," he says resolutely. His sadness turns to resolve, the hard line of his grimace matching those set in his brows.

He will not let the actions of a group of mortals dissuade him from going to you. And besides, he has researched everything he can about you from within the safety of the Dreaming.

He takes a measure of sand and uses it to materialise within your bedroom.

It is obvious from a quick scan of it that deliberate attempts have been made to ensure the space is cosy and calming.

Two marshmallowy pillows support your head. The cotton sheets have been meticulously tucked to avoid drafts. A lavender reed diffuser fragrances the air with a subtle scent. There are no devices or screens visible.

Everything has its place. A coaster supported glass of water within reaching distance. Touch activated lamp in case of emergency. The diary lined up with the back left corner of the bedside table, pen placed parallel in the spine dent. All clothes are in the wardrobe or stashed in the laundry basket.

Morpheus moves to the curtain-shrouded window and delicately moves the dark, heavy fabric to catch a glimpse of the outside world.

The scene is sepia stained from an old streetlight positioned right outside your home. It explained the choice of curtains.

You stir slightly from the change in environment and Morpheus allows the curtain to fall back in place. He remains stationary until your breathing returns to its previous pace. It is imperative that his presence remains undisclosed. He knows that mortals do not take well to home invasion.

Then, your right hand slips out from the duvet cocoon revealing a cushion cut ruby ring on your middle finger.

He smiles exultantly. The similarity between the jewel and his own now-destroyed dreamstone was undeniable.

The Fates were making it transparent.

You were the one.

Morpheus approaches the side of your bed now. In your momentary discomfort, you had moved your head, making your whole face visible to your uninvited guest.

He bends gracefully so his face is closer to yours and observes you with an intent fascination.

Even in the gloom, Morpheus asserts that your features are even more captivating now that he is able to look upon them in person and is certain that if he could guarantee an absence of fear then he would fall to knees and worship you right there.

Fingers stroke a lock of hair splayed across the pillow and his thoughts turn darker still, imagining what he would do with you if he could get you alone in the Dreaming. How he would seduce you with words, and then pleasure your body with his own until you were senseless.

Getting you there would be so easy, all he needed to do was move his hand up and touch your skin and -

Morpheus stops himself, deciding that now is not the time for an introduction. He will wait until tomorrow. You need to rest. It will be quite the revelation for your sweet mortal heart.

Morpheus whispers a promise, "We will be together soon, my precious soulmate."

He leaves after taking one last look at your peaceful form.

When he returns to the Dreaming, Morpheus discovers that the visit has riled him way beyond what he thought possible.

It was supposed to sate his curiosity and answer some questions.

It has done the opposite.

His craving for you is sublimely intense, opiate-like in its ensnarement.

He needs to possess you. To have you all to himself. Everything would fall into place. Loneliness, disillusionment, jealousy; they would never darken his outlook again. You would heal him, he is certain of it.

He paces restlessly in the low light of his private chambers as heat ripples beneath the surface of his being, charging him with pure sexual lust.

He hungers for the moment when you feel the same about him.

For now, all he can do is stand and touch himself while thinking of your face, an act that has been carried out repeatedly in the days since he found you in the Ocean of Dreams.

An erotic idea enters his mind.

Your subconscious is still in the Dreaming; he knows the feeling of it intimately.

Perhaps he could bring you a dream mirroring his own current fantasy.

To give you a taste of what was to come.

A gift that only he could bestow.

The mere thought of it turns him on even more. His back arches and his eyes roll back as he choses the words through which he would deliver the offering.

"Dream of me," Morpheus murmurs breathlessly. "Dream of me."

He repeats the phrase until he is unable to continue, moans taking over the darkened space around him.

-------------------------------------

It is dusk the next day when Morpheus returns to the waking world.

The instant he touches down on the Earth's surface, he knows exactly where to go. The metaphysical connection between you is as strong as the energy pulsing through a ley line.

The city he is directed to is thrumming with life but the side street he stands in has been spared from the furore.

It is fortuitous that he is permitted to be unobserved for Morpheus is struggling now with the urge to get closer.

Providence is pulling him in and also locking him out.

He walks up to the door and then an invisible force makes him back away.

He doesn't even try to fight it.

The Fates hold all the cards. Morpheus is beholden to their each and every whim.

It is surprisingly liberating.

He is dancing in the cross hairs. Blinkered by the tie the universe has fashioned for you.

All he has to do is wait.

The door to the building is pushed open.

-------------------------------------

Taglist: @herfantasyworldd

"Fate. Up against your will. Through the thick and thin. He will wait until you give yourself to him."

[amateurvoltaire]

Exhibition 1793-1794 at the Carnavalet Museum (Part I)

For anyone interested in the French Revolution, a visit to the Carnavalet Museum is essential. Though the museum covers the history of Paris from its very beginnings to the present, it’s also home to the world’s largest collection of revolutionary artefacts. Which makes sense, given that Paris was the epicentre of it all.

Frankly, if you plan to explore it all, you’ll want to set aside a good 3–4 hours. For those focused solely on the French Revolution, head straight to the second floor, where you can get through the collection in under an hour. Best of all, the permanent collection is free, making it a brilliant way to spend an afternoon in the city on a budget.

Currently, though, there’s a special treat on offer. Running from 16 October 2024 to 16 February 2025, the museum is hosting an exhibition dedicated to my favourite (and arguably the most chaotic) year of the revolution: Year II (1).

Now, since the family and I were in Reims for a long weekend, I somehow managed (possibly after too much Champagne) to convince my husband to drive 150 kilometres to Paris just so I could see Robespierre’s unfinished signature. It helped that the kids were on board, too. Yes, the four-year-old fully recognises Robespierre by portrait. The one-year-old is, predictably, indifferent.

So, slightly worse for wear after a ridiculous amount of Champagne tastings, off we went to the museum.

1. Why Year II?

Because it was a catastrophe. No. Really.  Let me explain, in a very overly-simplified summary:

In Year II, France was plunged into an unparalleled storm of internal and external crises that would define the Revolution’s most radical year and ultimately mark its turning point.

Internally, the government was riven by factional divides, economic collapse, and civil war. The Jacobins (2) took control of the Convention, sidelining the federalist Girondins (3), aligning themselves with the sans-culottes (4), and arguing that only extreme measures could preserve the Revolution. Meanwhile, the more radical Enragés (5) demanded harsh economic policies to shield the poor from spiralling inflation and food shortages. The Convention introduced the Maximum Général (6) to placate them, which capped essential prices; however, enforcement was haphazard, fuelling discontent across the country. At the same time, the Indulgents (7) called for a reduction in violence and a return to clemency.

Externally, France’s situation was equally dire, encircled by the First Coalition—a formidable alliance of Britain, Austria, Prussia, Spain, and the Dutch Republic, all intent on crushing the Revolution before it spread further. With the execution of Louis XVI, France found itself diplomatically isolated, and the army was, frankly, a shambles. Most officers were either nobles or incompetent (8), and the soldiers were inadequately trained and equipped. In a desperate bid to defend the Republic, the Convention issued the Levée en Masse (9) in August 1793, sparking revolts in many cities and outright civil war in the West.

Confronted with this barrage of existential threats, the Convention dialled up its response in spectacular fashion, unleashing what we now know as the Terror—a period of sweeping repression backed by some rather questionable legislation. As you can likely guess from the name alone, this was a brilliant idea…

Put simply: by the end of Year II, nearly all the key figures who had spearheaded the Revolution up to that point were dead. And no, they didn’t slip away peacefully in their sleep from some ordinary epidemic. They met their end at the guillotine.

In short, Year II wasn’t just the Revolution's most radical and defining phase—it was also the year the Revolution itself died. Yes, the Revolution, in its truest, purest, most uncompromising form, met its end the moment the guillotine's blade struck Robespierre’s neck.

2. Overview of the exhibition

The visit  opens with the destruction of the 1791 Constitution and closes with Liberty, an allegorical figure of the Republic depicted as a woman holding the Declaration of the Rights of Man in her right hand. In between, the experience is structured around five main themes:

A New Regime: The Republic

Paris: Revolution in Daily Life

Justice: From Ordinary to Exceptional

Prisons and Execution Sites

Beyond Legends

More than 250 artefacts are featured, including paintings, sculptures, decorative arts, historical items, wallpapers, posters, and furniture. The layout is carefully structured around these themes, with a distinct use of colour to set the tone: the first three sections have a neutral palette, while the final two glow in vivid red, creating a very nice change in atmosphere.

What I appreciated most was how the descriptions handle the messy legacy of Year II. The texts actually admit that, while some Parisians saw this year as a bold step towards equality and utopia, for others it was an absolute nightmare. This balance is refreshing, even if things are a bit simplified (because how could they not be?), and it gives a well-rounded view of a wildly complicated time.

In this first part, I'll focus on the first two sections, as the latter three fit together neatly and deserve a deep dive of their own. Besides, there's so much to unpack that I'll likely exceed Tumblr's word limit (and the patience of anyone reading this).

3. A New Regime: The Republic

The first section covers the shift from the Ancien Régime to the First Republic, and, fittingly, it starts with a smashed relic of the old order: the Constitution of 1791. After the monarchy’s fall and the republic’s proclamation in September 1792, the old constitution was meaningless. Though it technically remained in force for a few months, it was replaced by the Constitution of Year I in 1793, marking the end of France’s brief experiment with a constitutional monarchy. In May 1793, the old document was ceremonially obliterated with the “national sledgehammer”—a bit dramatic, perhaps, but Year II was nothing if not dramatic.

This section zeroes in on the governance of the new republic, featuring the Constitution of Year I, portraits of convention members, objects from the Committee of Public Safety and the National Convention (including a folder for Robespierre’s correspondence), and national holiday memorabilia. There’s even a nice nod to Hérault de Séchelles (10) as a principal author of the republican constitution.

3.1 Martyrdom as a political tool

Interestingly, the exhibition places a heavy emphasis on the concept of martyrdom. A significant portion of this first area is dedicated to the Death of Marat (11) and, to a lesser extent, the assassination of Le Peletier (12). It’s a clever angle since martyrs—whether well-known figures or nameless soldiers—have always been handy for rallying public opinion. The revolutionary government of Year II understood this all too well and wielded the concept to its full advantage.

In this spirit, the middle of this section features a reproduction of David’s Death of Marat, several drawings from Marat’s funeral, Marat’s mortuary mask, a supposed piece of his jaw, and more. Notably absent are any issues of L’Ami du Peuple, as though the display suggests Marat’s death was more impactful to the Republic’s narrative than his actual writings. I’d agree with that—the moment he died, he was elevated to a mythic status, and his legacy as a martyr of Year II took on a life of its own.

4. Paris: Revolution in Daily Life

While the first section focuses on the workings of governance, this part delves into Year II’s impact on ordinary Parisians. This period stands out for two reasons: France was in economic and political turmoil (wars, both internal and external, aren’t exactly budget-friendly), yet it also managed to introduce some remarkably forward-thinking legislation aimed at improving the lives of the common people.

4.1 The Paris Commune & Paranoia

To understand life in Paris during Year II, we can’t overlook the role of the Paris Commune (13). Rooted in the revolutionary spirit of the Estates General of 1789 and officially formalised by the law of 19 October 1792, the Commune was the governing body responsible for Paris. Divided into forty-eight sections, each with its own assembly, it gave citizens a strong voice in electing representatives and local officials. Led by a mayor, a general council, and a municipal body, the Commune handled essential civic matters like public works, subsistence, and policing.

From 2 June 1793 to 27 July 1794 (the height of Year II), the Commune implemented the policies of the Montagnard (14) Convention, which aimed to build a social structure grounded in the natural rights of man and citizen, reaffirmed on 24 June 1793. This social programme sought to guarantee basic rights such as subsistence (covering food, lighting, heating, clothing, and shelter), work (including access to tools, raw materials, and goods), assistance (support for children, the elderly, and the sick; rights to housing and healthcare), and education (fostering knowledge and preserving arts and sciences).

All this unfolded in an atmosphere thick with paranoia and intense policing; enemies were believed to lurk everywhere. The display does a solid job of capturing this side of the Paris Commune, featuring various illustrations that urged people to conform to new revolutionary norms—wear the cockade, play your part in the social order, fight for and celebrate the motherland, and so on.

One of my favourite pieces was the record of cartes de sûreté (safety cards) from one of the 48 Parisian sections. Made compulsory for Parisians in April 1793, these cards were meant to confirm that their holders weren’t considered “suspects” in a climate thick with paranoia. This small, seemingly random document—issued or revoked at the discretion of an equally random Revolutionary Committee—had the power to decide a person’s freedom or the lack of it.

At the risk of sounding sentimental, in the study of history, we often focus on broad events and overlook the "little guy" who lived through them. But here, this record reminds us that behind each document was, in fact, a real person. And that this very real person was trying to make their way through a reality that, 230 years ago, must have felt stifling and, at times, terrifying.

4.2 Education

A significant spotlight is rightly placed on education in this exhibition section, given the sweeping changes it underwent during the Revolution.

Before 1789, Paris was well-supplied with educational institutions. Eleven historic colleges and a semi-subsidised university offered prestigious studies in theology, law, medicine, and the arts, drawing students from across France. Inspired by Enlightenment ideals, boarding schools and specialised courses in subjects like science and mathematics had sprung up, mainly catering to the middle class, while working-class children attended charity schools. Private adult education also provided technical and scientific training. The catch? Most of these were church-operated.

Revolutionary policies targeting the Church caused a mass departure of teachers, financial difficulties, and restrictions on hiring unsalaried educators. Military demands, economic turmoil, and protests added to the strain on schools. Even the Sorbonne (15) was shut down in 1792, and by late 1793, nearly all Parisian colleges were closed except for Louis-le-Grand (16), which was renamed École Égalité. With the teacher shortage and soaring inflation, a handful of institutions struggled on.

This left the Convention and the Paris Commune scrambling to find new ways to educate the young, and they rose (or at least attempted to rise) to the occasion. On 19 December 1793, the Bouquier Decree aimed to establish free, secular, and mandatory primary education—a remarkable move, though it never fully materialised due to lack of funding.

With France at war, the Convention turned public education towards the needs of a nation in crisis. Throughout 1793 and 1794, new scientific and technical programmes sprang up to meet urgent demands, combat food shortages, and push social progress. Thousands of students were trained in saltpetre refinement (vital for gunpowder), and scientific knowledge spread beyond chemists to artisans and tin workers. In the final months of Year II, a saltpetre refinement zone was set up, the École de Mars was founded to rapidly train young men in military techniques, and the École Centrale des Travaux Publics (future École Polytechnique) was established to develop engineers in military-technical fields.

The education display features a fascinating array of educational degrees, lists of primary school students, and instructor rosters. Although a bit more context on the educational upheaval would have been helpful, the artefacts themselves are intriguing. Placed in the context of the rest of the exhibit, it’s clear that the new educational system wasn’t just about breaking away from the Ancien Régime; it was also very deliberately and openly crafted to instil republican ideals. Nothing illustrates this better than the way Joseph Barra(17) was promoted as a model for students at the École de Mars.

And, of course, this section also showcases one of the most enduring legacies of the Revolution: the introduction of the metric system and modern standardised measurements.

4.3 The (lack of) Women in Year II

The women of Year II were not real women. They were symbols—or so the imagery from the era would have us believe. There is shockingly little about the actual experiences of women in the collective memory of Year II.

Women played active roles in the Revolution. They filled the Assembly’s tribunes as spectators, mobilised in the sections, founded clubs, joined public debates, signed petitions, and even participated in mixed societies. In many cases, they worked side by side with men to bring about the Republic of Year II. So where are they?

Well, they’re certainly not prominent in this exhibition—but that’s not the fault of the organisers. It’s a reflection of how the time chose to represent them. In revolutionary imagery, women became allegories: symbols of Liberty, wisdom, the Republic, or the ideal mother raising citizens for the state, often reduced to stereotypes and caricatures. Rarely were they depicted as part of the public sphere.

The absence of a serious discourse on women’s rights in this part of the exhibition speaks volumes and is true to the period itself. At the time, there was no cohesive movement for women’s rights, and while specific individuals pushed for aspects of female citizenship, these efforts lacked unity or a common cause. Eventually, being perceived as too radical, all women's clubs were closed in 1973.

4.4 Dechristianisation

In my view, dechristianisation was perhaps the greatest misstep of the various governments from 1789 onwards. Not because I think religion should be central to people’s lives—not at all—but because, in 18th-century France, it simply was essential for most. The reasoning behind this attack on religion was sound enough: no government wants to be beholden to a pope in Rome who had heavily supported the deposed king. But in practice, the application of this principle was far from effective.

By Year II, Parisian authorities were still grappling with the fallout from the Civil Constitution of the Clergy (1790), which had left Catholics split between two competing churches: the constitutional church, loyal to the Revolution, and the refractory church, loyal to Rome. Patriotic priests suspected refractory priests of using their influence to fuel counter-revolutionary sentiment—a suspicion that only intensified the general atmosphere of paranoia.

As tension mounted, it devolved, as these things often do, into outright destruction. On 23 October 1793, the Commune of Paris ordered the removal of all monuments that "encouraged religious superstitions or reminded the public of past kings." Religious statues were removed, replaced by images of revolutionary martyrs like Le Peletier, Marat, and Chalier (19), in an effort to supplant the cult of saints with the cult of republican heroes.

The exhibition presents this wave of destruction with artefacts from ruined religious statues, the most striking being the head of one of the Kings of Judah from Notre-Dame’s facade. These 28 statues were dragged down and mutilated in a frenzy against royalist symbols in 1793. . Ironically, they weren’t even French kings; they were Old Testament kings, supposedly ancestors of Christ—a fact that most people at the time were probably blissfully unaware of. But hey, destruction in the name of ignorance is nothing new, is it?

Many in the Convention and the Commune were atheists and enthusiastically supported the secularisation of public life. Unfortunately, they didn’t represent the majority of the French population. To bridge this gap, Robespierre proposed a "moral religion" without clergy, a way for citizens to unite and celebrate a shared, secularised liberty. In December 1793, the Convention passed a decree granting "unlimited liberty of worship," leading to the Festival of the Supreme Being, held in Paris and throughout France on 8 June 1794.

As with so much in Year II, the "Supreme Being" affair was a logical solution to a pressing problem that ended up blowing up in Robespierre’s face—by now, you might detect a pattern. But that’s a story for Part II of this already very long post.

5. Conclusion to Part 1

Overall, the exhibition presents the first two themes—A New Regime: The Republic and Paris: Revolution in Daily Life—in a balanced way, which I really appreciate. I was expecting a bit more sensationalism, given that Year II is known for its brutality, but instead, it provides a thoughtful overview of how the Republic was structured and the impact this had on Parisians.

The range of media and text offers a good dive into key points, especially on everyday life during the period. I didn’t listen to everything, but from what I saw, the explanations were well done. Naturally, since the exhibition is aimed at the general public, many aspects are simplified.

For younger audiences (pre-teens, perhaps?), the exhibit includes 11 watercolour illustrations by Florent Grouazel and Younn Locard. These two artists attempt to fill the gaps by depicting events from the period that lack contemporary representation (like the destruction of the Constitution with the “national sledgehammer” on 5 May 1793—an event documented but unillustrated at the time). For each scene, they created a young character as an actor or observer, sometimes just a witness to history, to make the scene more immersive. It’s a nice touch, though easy to overlook if you’re not paying close attention.

In Part II, I’ll share my thoughts on the remaining themes: Justice, Prisons and Execution Sites, and Beyond Legends. And yes, a lot of that will involve Thermidor—how could it not?

In the meantime, if you made it this far… well, I’m impressed!

Notes

(1) Year II: Refers to the period from 22 September 1793 to 21 September 1794 in the French Revolutionary calendar.

(2) Jacobins: A political group advocating social reform and, by 1793, strongly promoting Republican ideals. Most revolutionaries were, or had once been, members of the Jacobin club, though by Year II, Robespierre stood out as its most prominent figure.

(3) Girondins: A conservative faction within the National Convention, representing provincial interests and, to some extent, supporting constitutional monarchy. Key figures included Brissot and Roland.

(4) Sans-culottes: Working-class Parisians who championed radical changes and economic reforms to support the poor. The name “sans-culottes” (meaning "without knee breeches") symbolised their rejection of aristocratic dress in favour of working-class trousers.

(5) Enragés: An ultra-radical group demanding strict economic controls, such as price caps on essentials, to benefit the poor. Led by figures like Jacques Roux and, to some extent, Jacques Hébert, the Enragés urged the Convention to fully break from the Ancien Régime.

(6) Maximum Général: A 1793 law imposing price caps on essential goods to curb inflation and aid the poor. Though well-intended, it was difficult to enforce and stirred resentment among merchants.

(7) Indulgents: A faction led by Danton and Desmoulins advocating a relaxation of the severe repressive measures introduced in Year II, calling instead for clemency and a return to more moderate governance.

(8) Incompetence: At the Revolution’s outset, military positions were primarily held by nobles. By Year II, these noble officers were often dismissed due to mistrust, and their replacements—particularly in the civil conflict in the West—were frequently inexperienced, and some, quite frankly, incompetent.

(9) Levée en Masse: A mass conscription decree of 1793 requiring all able-bodied, unmarried men aged 18 to 25 to enlist. This unprecedented mobilisation extended to the wider population, with men of other ages filling support roles, women making uniforms and tending to the wounded, and children gathering supplies.

(10) Hérault de Séchelles: A lawyer, politician, and member of the Committee of Public Safety during Year II, known primarily for helping to draft the Constitution of 1793.

(11) Jean-Paul Marat: A radical journalist and politician, fiercely supportive of the sans-culottes and advocating revolutionary violence in his publication L’Ami du Peuple. Assassinated in 1793, he became the Revolution’s most famous martyr.

(12) Louis-Michel Le Peletier de Saint-Fargeau: A politician and revolutionary who voted in favour of the king’s execution and was assassinated in 1793 shortly after casting his vote, becoming a symbol of revolutionary sacrifice.

(13) Paris Commune: Not to be confused with the better-known Paris Commune of 1871, this Commune was the governing body of Paris during the Revolution, responsible for administering the city and playing a key role in revolutionary events.

(14) Montagnard Convention: The left-wing faction of the National Convention, dominated by Jacobins, which held power during the Revolution’s most radical phase and implemented the Reign of Terror.

(15) Sorbonne: Founded in the 13th century by Robert de Sorbon as a theological college, the Sorbonne evolved into one of Europe’s most respected centres for higher learning, particularly known for theology, philosophy, and the liberal arts. It was closed during the Revolution due to anti-clerical reforms.

(16) Louis-Le-Grand: A prestigious secondary school in Paris, temporarily renamed École Égalité during the Revolution. Notable alumni include Maximilien Robespierre and Camille Desmoulins.

(17) Joseph Barra: A young soldier killed in 1793 during the War in the Vendée, whose death was used as revolutionary propaganda to inspire loyalty and martyrdom among French youth.

(18) Civil Constitution of the Clergy: A 1790 law that brought the Catholic Church in France under state control, requiring clergy to swear allegiance to the government. This split Catholics between “constitutional” and “refractory” priests, heightening religious tensions.

(19) Joseph Chalier: A revolutionary leader in Lyon who supported radical policies. He was executed in 1793 after attempting to enforce these policies, later becoming a martyr for the revolutionary cause.

[abrillustrated]

hi my name is august and for the past week or so i have become so consumed by thoughts of avatar the last airbender that it is actually ruining my life and relationships.

yeah so unfortunately i can only be completely insane about this so i have to stop before it consumes me or at least manage the fixation i have for this early 20s zutara au

+ mai bc its really a shame that they didn't resolve her story outside of her relationship to zuko. so i think she starts fight club. which gradually turns into a gladiatorial ring

edit: im typing up everything that i wrote in the drawing bc it just occured to me that not only is my handwriting a mess, but it's also cursive

Image 1

katara: How do you live in this hot ass country.

zuko: What about that literal glacier you live on, hm? Do you see me complaining?

Image 2

Zuko: my plan right now is to soft launch democracy for the Fire Nation. like, i don't think we can do that now because we're so weak, but 10-20 years down the line?

Image 3

Zuko: Honestly, my plan right now is to rule for a couple generations and fix everything that my father and my grandfather did , and then establish a democracy.

Katara: why not a democracy now?

Zuko: because the people of the Fire Nation don't know the truth about their own history. they've been fed propaganda for a hundred years. they need to be able to make informed decisions before i can do that.

Katara: and after that?

Zuko: after that im fucking off to the earth kingdom to take over my uncle's tea house and you will literally never hear from me again

Image 4

from left to right "katara" "need to redo the face" "this is chief katara to me. this is her at around 19/20 to me" "Anime katara. this anime shit is easy" "fire nation katara. putting her at about 14 y/o" "this is a screencap redraw"

Image 5

me: hello greenpeace

katara: after my mother died i had a lot of unchecked rage for the world, so my dad signed me up for tai chi classes to, like, calm me down but i ended up still angry but also really good at tai chi

katara: i feel like im doing well all things considered

me: katara is so special to me. she is a fully realized creation to me. so casual. so passionate about the world. one thing about her is that she is an activist. she has a strong sense of justice. fuck. the train jumped lol

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mai: zuko, im starting a gladitorial ring and i don't know the legality of it so if you could just change the laws as i go that'd be great

zuko: yeah sure that sounds great

zuko, but smaller: wait what.

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mai: REF, ARE YOU BLIND?! WHAT KIND OF CALL IS THAT!

background guy: woah holy shit

captioned: "Mai starts a gladiatorial fight club

[amirasainz]

can you do more of baby!sainz crushing on lando and lando really likes it and flirt with her any time ++ carlos’s reaction

Of coure I can. This is a Part 2 story, so I would recommend reading the first part. My stories are usually seperate stories, however it was quiet fitting in this case. Btw, Carlos ec gf is mentioned, Isa I love writing requests for you guys and hope you enjoy reading my work. Let me know if you have any whishes! -XoXo

Three times when....Part 2

4. The Quadrant video

Ah, the delicate dance of family dynamics and romantic getaways—the kind that unfolds against the backdrop of sun-kissed beaches and whispered secrets. Carlos Sainz, the Ferrari sensation, had planned a romantic vacation with his girlfriend, seeking moments of stolen kisses and moonlit walks. And what better place than Bali to weave their love story?

But life, ever the mischievous storyteller, had other plans. A new Quadrant video emerged, casting its spotlight on the youngest Sainz sister. There stood Amira, flanked by Lando’s friends, Max and Keegan, her eyes fixed on Lando as he explained the rules of their karting challenge. Karting—a miniature ballet of speed and precision—would be their canvas.

Lando, the showman, draped his arm over Amira’s shoulder. His friend Keegan would take the wheel, aiming to beat Lando’s time. But first, Lando had to set the benchmark. As he zipped around the track, Amira’s gaze never wavered. Her words flowed like a river of admiration: “He is an amazing driver. It won’t take long before he takes his first win. Look how easy he makes it look.” Her grin was infectious, like a sunbeam breaking through the clouds.

And then, in a hushed whisper, she added, “Como un profesional.” Keegan and Max exchanged puzzled glances, their linguistic compass spinning in confusion. But Amira knew. She’d witnessed her friends’s journey—the sweat, the sacrifice, the hunger for victory. In that quiet moment, she held a secret: Lando Norris, the boy who’d captured her heart, was destined for greatness.

When Lando finally finished his run, he sprinted toward her. “And, what do you think, darling?" he teased. “Maybe I’ll be able to take you on a ride one day.” His flirtatious tone hung in the air, and apparently, it was working—because Amira was giggling.

Throughout the video, Lando would sweetly explain things to her while she had her whole attention on him. At the end, Max had to do the outro, because Lando was sitting in a kart with Amira on his lap. He clearly showed her things on the wheel, so he moved her hair aside and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"What the fuck did I just watch" thought Carlos to himself

5. The Spa crash

Carlos Sainz found himself in the midst of an interview when his eyes caught sight of his friend sliding across the treacherous Spa track. The Belgian circuit had claimed its share of lives over the years, and the rain only intensified its danger.

In that heart-stopping moment, Carlos’s mind painted worst-case scenarios. But then, relief flooded through him as Lando Norris responded to Sebastian Vettel’s thumbs-up signal and was soon escorted back to the safety of the team garages. Carlos wasted no time, ending the interview abruptly to ensure Lando’s well-being.

Yet, what awaited him upon his arrival was unexpected—a scene that tugged at his heartstrings. Lando stood in the rain, his little sister, Amira, by his side. Tears streamed down her face, and Carlos heard Lando’s soothing words: “I’m fine, darling. Nothing happened. It was just a little jump-scare. I promise, I’ll always come back to you.”

But Amira’s worry persisted. “How can you be so sure about that, Lando? What if—” she began, her voice trembling. Lando cut her off, determination in his eyes. “Hey, none of that, okay? It will take a thousand armies to keep me away from you, okay?” He waited for her nod, their bond unbreakable.

Carlos watched the scene unfold, touched by the depth of their friendship. He approached them, pulling them into a group hug, seeking solace in their shared connection. Together, they retreated into the warmth of the Ferrari garage, a sanctuary against the rain-soaked night.

Later, as Carlos settled into bed with his girlfriend, Isa, he recounted the events. “I didn’t know the two of them were such good friends,”he mused. Isa sighed, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. “You truly know nothing, Carlos Sainz.”

6. DJ Lando

Ah, the nightlife—the pulsing heartbeat of music, neon lights, and secrets whispered in the dark. Lando Norris, the McLaren sensation, was no stranger to the DJ booth, spinning beats that made the crowd sway and lose themselves. Clubs welcomed him like an old friend, and this weekend was no exception.

But amidst the thumping bass and swirling lights, something shifted. A new presence graced the scene: Amira, Carlos little sister. Her usual decline to join club outings had become a predictable pattern, making Carlos’s job as the protective older brother straightforward. Yet this time, she stood there, defying expectations.

And what a sight she was—dressed in a short dress, high heels elongating her legs. Lando kept her close, his arm around her waist or fingers tucked under her hairtie. Carlos’s attention zeroed in on them—the way Lando leaned in, whispering things in Amira’s ear. Her cheeks flushed crimson, embarrassment or amusement dancing across her face. What secrets did they share? Carlos couldn’t fathom, and it gnawed at him.

Lando’s proximity to his sister grated on Carlos’s nerves. Why was he so close? What did he want from Amira? The frustration simmered, and Carlos’s annoyance grew. Why hadn’t anyone clued him in? The club’s rhythm pulsed around them, but Carlos’s mind spun with questions. Perhaps it was time to confront Lando, to unravel the mystery that danced between them.