#but also he is determined to stop Napoleon

[werewolves-are-real]

Time Travel Temeraire snippet

At first, Laurence assumes he's dead.

It's a natural conclusion. He remembers dying, after all.

He and Tenzing were at a function hosted by Wellesley. They were mostly there to support the dragons. Temeraire had long abandoned them to quarrel with Perscitia in the courtyard, with half a dozen ferals watching like it were a jousting match. Wellesley had laid out his grounds to allow room for dragons and men to mingle, but a good portion of the guests retreated inside to avoid the raised voices of the dragons.

Laurence wonders how Temeraire felt about that, later. About not seeing.

He was stabbed. He barely remembers it – just a quick pulse of pain in his chest, looking down. Red blooming over his coat.

Then he was on the floor. People screamed. Tenzing appeared, grappling with a tall and finely-dressed man; he used a dinner-knife to punch a hole in the stranger's throat, in a fantastic spray of blood, and dropped the body at once to kneel by Laurence's side.

He remembers Wellesley barking orders – bandages, water, a hot knife. Have to cauterize it, he'd shouted. Keep pressure -

But Tenzing never spoke. Just pressed down on Laurence's chest, over the wound, without particular panic. Laurence still remembers the grim resignation on his face; Tenzing knew what was coming. Laurence was glad to have him there when he died.

Then Laurence woke up.

The world sways in a familiar way, a rhythmic motion that Laurence registers on a soul-deep level. He's on a ship. But why? Where is Tenzing, Temeraire? Why would they put him on a ship?

“I think the fever's breaking,” says a voice. A naval doctor, disheveled and salt-stained, with long scars down his bared arms. “Oh, and awake too!”

“Well thank Christ,” says another man. One Laurence recognizes.

It's Captain Gerry Stuart – but he looks different, younger than the last time Laurence saw him, with smooth skin and dark curly hair.

Gerry died two years ago.

“Well, Lieutenant! You gave us a scare – how are you feeling?” Gerry asks.

“It's Admiral,” Laurence corrects rather than all the other things he does not dare ask. He hates the title foisted upon him; but it's at least more comprehensible than Lieutenant, and he clings to that rather than demand where did you come from.

Stuart throws back his head to cackle, though the concern doesn't leave his face. “Still perhaps a bit feverish, I think!”

“That might be the laudanum,” says the doctor, also amused. “Why don't you sleep a bit more, Lieutenant?”

“But where is Temeraire? Or Tenzing?”

“I can only assume you had some very vivid dreams,” Stuart chuckles. “You were babbling and babbling for Temeraire – isn't that a ship?”

“Perhaps the flagship of his fleet,” suggests the doctor, and Stuart laughs again. “Get some rest, Mr. Laurence. Holler if you need me.”

They both exit the sick-berth. Laurence stares blankly at the door.

What?

Laurence pats his chest. No wound. He looks down, startled by the pale thinness of his fingers, his youth-soft skin.

Well; not soft. Callouses cover his hands. But even these patterns are different – hard skin in places where he would hold a sword, or pulls ropes. His hands should be more wrinkled, yes; but these callouses faded years ago.

“Where am I?” he asks when the doctor returns. “And what is the year?”

“The year? 1793. You don't remember?”

1793. Laurence was 19 in 1793. A lieutenant for two years, on the Shorewise.

The doctor narrows his eyes. “What's my name, lad?”

Laurence swallows. His stomach churns; for the life of him he can't remember.

The doctor rushes off to retrieve the captain.

_____________________________

Laurence is diagnosed with brain fever, and partial amnesia. Gerry is horribly guilty about laughing, earlier; Laurence could not care less. He is given strict orders to stay on bed-rest for another week, in hope his strength will recover – and his mind.

Laurence doesn't think he'll have any issues working – he's forgotten many of the people around him, true, but he may never forget the way to run a ship. He's far more concerned with learning what happened.

From all appearances, it is indeed 1793. France is undergoing riots, and declared war against Britain in February. Temeraire has not hatched. Napoleon is probably a corporal or general himself, at this point. If he exists at all. God knows, perhaps Laurence is only mad.

But he doesn't feel mad. His memories are too vivid to be mere fever-dreams. A man cannot dream up twenty years of life!

But neither can a man go back to his youth, and live it all again.

I have a dragon, he thinks of saying. There is no war, because I captured Napoleon – an unknown man who makes himself emperor.

Mad. It sounds mad even to Laurence himself. But to imagine that Temeraire was a fever-ridden dream... Tenzing and Granby and China, all of it...

Laurence doesn't share his turmoil with anyone – not even with Gerry, who checks on him fretfully. After a week the doctor declares him well enough, physically. He's paired always with another lieutenant for the first few days on duty, and his shipmates watch him carefully for signs of permanent debilitation; but aside from a moment or two of hesitance, Laurence competently resumes his duties. The oversight lessens.

Laurence thinks about writing letters.

He thinks about writing to Tharkay's late father, who ought to still be alive, inquiring after his son. He thinks of writing to Prince Mianning, asking about the health of Lung Tien Qian. He thinks of writing to young Midshipman Granby, his unwed brother, his dead father...

Not all of them would reply. But he could ask questions. Could verify the truth of things. Unless this, instead, is the delusion.

Is he in 1793, imagining the future? Is he in the future, imagining the past? Or maybe he is already dead, and this is the reality of hell. He came here burning with fever, and now he burns with fear. Surely that is it's own form of torture.

Laurence is ironically given the task of tutoring the midshipman and lieutenant-hopefuls more than any other duty as the weeks pass; his crewmates still look askance, and the more eager of the midshipman become protective. Laurence remains perfectly capable of command; it is only that he can't help but be absent-minded, sometimes, staring at all the crewmen that pass him like they are nothing but moving paintings. Images of a world that no longer matters.

One evening the midshipmen drag him away to a meal with the other officers. It's a noisy crowd; Laurence would find the friendly bustle comforting in another life.

One of the senior officers, Lieutenant Moore, waves him down as Laurence enters. Evidently they used to be friends, given his notably concerned behavior of late. Laurence can't remember the man, and has a sneaking suspicion he died too soon to make a lasting impression.Moore jostles him when Laurence sits at the long table. “Will! Did you get any letters with the last batch?”

A patrolling gunboat brought a satchel of letters just this morning. “I did not,” Laurence says. He's grateful for the fact. He'd found a few pieces of correspondence in his quarters that he dutifully sent on; he cannot imagine writing a letter now, in this confused state.

“Then you've had no news! Robespierre has gone mad. Madder than before, I suppose.”

“Robespierre?” asks Laurence blankly.

Lieutenant Moore double-takes, as does everyone else around them. “Good lord, Will, please tell me you remember Robespierre?”

Right... Robespierre's reign was brief, but this is when he led France. Some of the things the papers published...

Well, at least Laurence has a well-worn excuse for his ignorance. He plays up his malady: “Yes. I think I recall he was... French?”

Groans of horror mixed with amusement echo around the table. “...Well you aren't wrong,” says Moore, looking pained. “He has styled himself the 'President' of their Assembly, which is some stupid way of being king; the French are all mad about removing and adding words right now. I don't know how they expect anyone to hold a conversation.”

“We should... probably educate Mr. Laurence about the war at some point,” some midshipman mutters. Laurence doesn't recall his name.

Moore sighs again. “Anyway. Robespierre is a tyrant, of course. But he's elected someone else to rule France! Barely more than a boy, too.”

Laurence frowns; he doesn't remember what Moore's talking about. “Why would he do that? Did they capture one of the Bourbons?” Declaring himself regent of a child-prince would at least make sense.

“Well, at least you remember them. No; it is some nobody, a young soldier. Not even French! I cannot fathom it.”

It feels like Laurence has been dunked in ice.

For a moment he can't respond. “What was his name? The soldier.”

“Napoleon Bonaparte. He has been chosen as head of their new heresy, the 'Cult of the Supreme Being,' they're calling it; and now de facto head of the government, too. Must be a priest? I don't know, nothing the French are doing makes sense. I expect his little group will be as short-lived as everything else about these riots.”

But Laurence doesn't think so. “...Excuse me; I'm feeling a bit poorly,” he says, rising on wavering legs.

“Yes, you look it! Go on, we'll tell you about the war later...”

Laurence flees.

#posting bc i have no idea where this is going or if I'll do anything with it #it's just a funny stupid idea #Laurence travelling in time: I have gone mad. I am plagued by visions. God is punishing me for my Sins. This is purgatory. #Why is this happening? What moral course of action can I take under these circumstances? #Napoleon travelling through time: No idea how this happened. Neat. Time to hijack a cult and rule my country even earlier. #basic concept is Laurence has an ongoing existential crisis about his Place In The Universe #but also he is determined to stop Napoleon #who is delighted and fascinated they BOTH came back and sort of indulgently lets him try #basically resulting in Laurence becoming Napoleon's unwilling advisor frantically trying to do damage control in between bouts #of philosophical dread and despair #“Poor Mr Laurence was loyal before the brain fever we swear” #meanwhile Laurence is in France just trying desperately to make Napoleon Stop #etc etc #Temeraire

[doctorprofessorsong]

Destiel Fic Recs

Sorry it's been a moment. I was finishing up my Moulin Rouge vibes monsterfucking Taylor Swift inspired extravaganza fic featuring blood freak Sammy, a touch of horror and a huge cast of characters for @dcbtv . (Read it here!)

But fear not! I have a fresh list of fics recs just for you. <3

The Trouble with Blue Eyes by FriendofCarlotta @friendofcarlotta (Explicit, 14k)

A film noir pulp fiction detective story so atmospheric you will feel like you are seconds from a mysterious dame busting into your office.

Dean and Cas are detectives in the same town. When they happen to meet on competing cases, things heat up. They become friends with benefits, but over the years they both catch feelings and neither one of them knows how to handle it. Will they be able to solve the Case of We Suck at Communication? More importantly, how do I marry this version of Charlie?

Frisky Business by imogenbynight @imogenbynight (Explicit, 13k)

A fun little Cas fic slash smutty one shot, this one is just immensely readable. When Dean and Cas find themselves hunting an apparently horny wraith, things get a bit complicated. Come for the fun wraith lore, stay for the smut!! It's a fun read with flustered Dean and soft dom Cas and a really fun case. What else could you want?

Of Lords and Letters by MalMuses @malmuses (Explicit, 14k)

Epistolary romance and Regency era Destiel? Catnip for me personally.

When Dean receives notice of his father’s death and his inheritance of the family's estate, he finds himself in a dilemma. He doesn’t want to abandon his regiment in the war, but someone needs to look after Winchester Hall. Luckily, a friend of Sam's, Castiel, is looking for employment and would be more than happy to serve as steward. 

But as their correspondence becomes increasingly intimate, Dean finds himself fighting not only Napoleon, but also his feelings. What will he find when he returns home?

creation myth by howldean @howldean (Teen, 5k)

This is a shorter fic for me to rec, but it manages to pack so much into it. The fic is an absolutely stunning examination of Cas and his relationship with his vessel when he's forced to leave it behind. It has all these beautiful gender feels. I am always a sucker for trueform Cas as well. 

But most of all, it's just deeply poetic. There are so many staggeringly beautiful lines as Cas grapples with who he is and where he fits. It's just absolutely gorgeous.

Devotion by FriendofCarlotta @friendofcarlotta (Explicit, 29k)

A Terminator AU. 

That's enough to make the list already, but also a full on delight of a fic. The angels, desperate to stop Dean Winchester, send one of their own back in time to kill him before he can become a threat.

But Dean sends his own rebellious angel back. Even though his grace is faltering, Cas is determined to keep Dean safe, but can he keep his heart safe?

doors unlocked and open by sidewinder @hawkland (Teen, 12k)

This one’s absolutely packed with amazing concepts. A post-Winchesters Destiel fix-it, Jack finds himself at a loss when he realizes that despite his best efforts, Dean can't seem to find peace in Heaven. He says he's looking for his family, but it's becoming increasingly clear he's specifically looking for one family member: Cas.

But Cas hasn't seen Dean since his big confession and he's not sure what reuniting will bring. Can Cas find the key to Dean’s peace?

Paper Moon by robotsnchicks @robotsnchicks (Explicit, 43k)

Life doesn't get any better than this. Dean's married to the love of his life and they've just put an offer down on their dream home. Everything is perfect. 

A little too perfect as it turns out when Dean wakes up to discover the last 4 years of his life were actually a simulation over the course of a week. He's devastated, most of all because he lost Cas. He can’t believe his husband isn't real. Refuses to believe it. He has to be out there somewhere and Dean is going to find him.

This concept could be extremely angsty, and make no mistake it does have some, but its surprisingly soft. A chance to find each other again, to start back at the beginning for Dean, to fall in love. 

Check out my other rec lists at @riversrecs

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic rec #deancas fic rec

[natimiles]

Hellooo it’s the same anon from before :)

I was wondering if you could write (only if you want to! No pressure whatsoever :D) platonic headcanons or scenarios for your favourite IkemenVampire boys with a gn!reader (age is up to you). I feel like our vampire men, however handsome they are, would also be great older brothers (albeit a bit outdated on technology ahaha)

Again, please don’t write this if you don’t want to :) it was just a thought in my head and I really enjoyed your work of the IkemenVampire characters with the reader that has a tattoo, but you take priority :D

-🥀 anon (if you allow it ofc)

Hii, dear 🥀

Sorry, I’m a slow writer haha. I was finishing another fanfic, but here we go!

Sometimes I feel they have a brotherly relationship when we’re not in their routes, so I really liked it! It's my first request, so that adds to the excitement, hahaha.

I wrote them separately, I hope it's how you wanted it (:

A gn!reader with a sibling-like relationship with them | Isaac, Mozart, Jean, Arthur, Theo and Vincent, and Napoleon

Tags: gn!reader; minor spoilers from their routes.

Isaac

He accepted Comte’s offer to have some alone time for peaceful work. With the little school he and Napoleon had set up, he didn't want any more responsibilities in his life. However, as always, things never seemed to go his way.

You’re stubborn and clumsy, and he can’t make sense of half the things you do. However, for some inexplicable reason, he’s intrigued by the challenge of understanding you. Before he knows it, you’ve become a part of his daily life.

You make sure he has all his meals and encourage him to leave his room sometimes, at least to go to the garden and get some sun on his skin. You even took care of him when he was sick, never leaving his side until he was better. You talk about what you remember studying about him in school and how he should consider being a professor here. You pester him until he does what you want and pretend to cry when he runs out of patience, just to make him feel bad for the outburst; but you’re also there when he needs to talk and always defend him from others (you’re the only one allowed to tease him about the apples).

“Hey, Newt, fancy a slice of apple pie?” You managed to get Arthur to stop calling him that. You might’ve even threatened him.

He always looks for you now, whether he needs advice about his new job, has a problem, or wants to grab a meal at that downtown cafeteria. He’s happy when you seek him out for advice or to hang out on a day off. Having you around is comforting; he’s no longer alone. You’re the family he’s always wanted, and he’ll protect you with everything he has, which mainly involves glaring at others while blushing (this man is not a fighter). He still enjoys spending time alone, working. He’s aware that you’ll come looking for him if he spends too much time locked in his room.

He probably won’t say much if you meet someone you like; he’s not overprotective. However, he’ll attempt to meet them to determine if they’re a good person (he might even call Napoleon to help him with this).

Mozart

When you arrived at the mansion, things were lively, and he despised it. You’re a troublemaker; it’s obvious. Comte once warned them about how dangerous it could be to cross the door without him because they could get lost. Yet, you managed to cross it by accident! Looking back, that was a red flag already, but you keep doing stupid things every time, so it’s hard to say which one really is the red flag. He should stay away, but for some reason, he feels an urge to protect you.

As time passes, and he grows accustomed to your presence (and your chocolates, ahem), he realizes that you’re not only his new best friend but also family. In his first life, he was the youngest son and was very close to his sister, so he finds solace in your company and the new sibling-like relationship you share. 

You two are joined at the hip in no time. You’re definitely his favorite person in the world now. Congrats, you got yourself an overprotective brother — but he means well. Arthur touches you? Mozart’s there in a second with a handkerchief in hand, ready to clean you of those scoundrel’s germs. You cut your finger? He helps you bandage it. Are you taking care of the violets in the garden? He’s there beside you, keeping you company while he composes a new piece.

He loves playing for you and always shows you his new pieces first. Your opinion means a lot to him, even though you may not be as versed in music as he is. If you encourage him to play and attend more aristocratic parties, he might even give it a shot. His trips downtown have become easier since you helped him overcome his fear of carriages, so he’s gradually getting used to them.

He might even teach you a thing or two on the piano if you’re interested, so you two can play together for the residents, just as he used to do with his sister. He’s a surprisingly patient and kind teacher. It’s a side he only reveals to you and Jean, and even the soldier never sees his friend smile fondly at anyone else.

God help the person that falls in love with you. He won’t be creepy about it, but he’ll be condescending until he’s certain they deserve you and his trust. The two of you now understand Theo and Vincent a little bit better.

Jean

He’s confused about why you want to be friends with him. He doesn’t think he deserves it, yet you persist, and something inside him just allows it. As you start teaching him how to write and read, he notices how patient and kind you are.

He’s the sweetest brother you could get. He feels like you’re his older sibling (and probably is, considering how young he died). He will protect you whenever you need, after all he’s a trained soldier. He shows you his diary and everything he writes. He asks for advice and always listens intently to what you have to tell him, because you don’t judge him even when he’s having a bad day. He’s interested in your stories about the future, he can’t understand how there’s such technology (the poor guy lived in a century that didn’t even have electricity yet).

You help in his shop when you can and you take care of him. You’re the only person who can actually make him eat/drink something, at least some blanc so he doesn’t starve himself again. He doesn’t want to disappoint you. He doesn’t want you to leave him and lose another family, so he makes an effort to care at least a little bit about himself, and you praise him every time you notice it.

A customer asks for something he doesn’t know how to write yet? “Wait a minute, please, I’ll ask my sibling how to write it.” And the customer is confused, because he didn’t know Jean had a sibling.

If you fall in love, he’ll be so happy for you! Obviously, he’ll be wary of them at first, but he’s such a chill brother. He’ll miss spending more time with you, but he’ll be happy to know you’re happy.

Arthur

Chaos. That’s what happened ever since you two met. Comte might have lots of gray hair now, because of you.

He tries to scare you out of the mansion, but you laugh. He hits on you, you yawns. He threatens to bite you, you bite him first and he yelps so loud, everybody came to see what happened. And when you challenge him to a game, he doesn’t lose but it’s really close.

He is observant and really smart, so he notices fast that he really enjoys your company and wants to hang out with you more, even though he doesn’t see you in a romantic way. You make him feel confident about himself again, like his own writing, and even consider being a doctor once more. He protects you from the idiots and teaches you all he knows about card games, and you actually win twice. That’s his sibling!

You become his partner in crime, but don’t think he lets you do everything you want. He’s actually really responsible when it comes to you. He locks himself in his room sometimes, but when you do it he drags you out and makes you eat something. If you’re sick, he takes care of you and sleeps on the floor beside your bed until you’re good again. Once Isaac tried to bite you when you cut your hand, and he just put his hand in front of Isaac’s mouth to protect you. When you go out to the pub with him and Theo, no one dares coming close to you, they know your brother can be scary when he wants.

You’re going out with someone? He won’t pry much, but he wants to know if you need some advice or if something happens. He knows very well how people can be with their desires, and he just wants you to be ok. Don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t want you to keep your chastity nor anything like that, he just wants to make sure it’s all consented and protected. Are you in love with them? Oh, that’s nice! He can’t wait to meet them! 

Theo and Vincent

First of all, you can’t become a sibling to just one of them. Theo would be devastated and Vincent would certainly miss his brother. That’d end up with the three of you as a family anyway, so…

Vincent’s been nice to you since the first moment, so it’s not hard to befriend him. But Theo is a different story. He actually just starts to try being nice to you when he sees you defending and helping Vincent with his emotions. You also help him with his work and some problems from his previous life, and he ends up grateful. And the three of you are inseparable now.

Theo likes to hear you talk about the arts from the future, Vincent hears your ideas for painting and likes to use you as a model, and you make sure they’re healthy and eating while working. They have a strong protector feeling towards you, you’re their youngest sibling. 

You're really proud of your new family. The first art exposition you help with is actually a success because you talked so much about your brothers that everybody got curious. You protect them with everything you have. Theo still calls you hondje, but you can’t blame him. You bark and bite anyone who tries to mess with them, and he says he can almost see a wagging tail when they come home, and you greet them.

You start painting, even if you don’t know how to do it. Vincent is patient enough to guide you and teach you the basics. Theo tries to be supportive, but what the hell is that paint supposed to be? If you look upset about his comments, he’ll apologize and give you a stack of pancakes to cheer you up.

May the lord have mercy from the person that falls for you. Vincent is an angel, but he doesn’t want you getting hurt, so he’ll find out if they’re trustworthy before being too nice. Theo is savage from the first moment he meets them. You’re upset with him and he can’t stand it, so he’ll try to be a little nice. Keyword: try.

Napoleon (I already see him as an older brother)

He tried to help you from the first second you passed the door, so you bonded quickly. He has the urge to protect you since you seem pretty reckless on your own. He likes taking care of others; he already has Isaac as a younger sibling, so he certainly doesn't mind having you too.

He helps you get used to this new century, giving you a tour through the city and assisting you with some chores. You help with his and Isaac's school; the kids love you so much that he can't help but find it endearing. You quickly come to rely on him, as it's really easy to trust him. You ask for his help whenever you need it, even if it's as simple as teaching you how to dance so you can go to a ball, and he gladly helps you.

He’s not overprotective; he offers his advice and trusts you’ll make good decisions on your own. However, he makes sure to draw the line for Arthur, he doesn’t want you getting hurt or bitten… Ok, he might want to overprotect you sometimes. He’ll teach you self defense, just in case.

He’ll try not to pry too much if you fall in love with someone, you’re a nunuche but you’re trustworthy. He knows you’ll come to him if you need something or if your heart gets broken — and may the Lord have mercy if it actually happens.

Masterlists

#🥀 anon #request #platonic #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp jean #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp theo #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp hc #ikevamp request #ask me #ikevamp x reader #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevamp requests

[theresattrpgforthat]

this might be a big ask, but do you know of any fantasy adventure RPGs that does idk fantasy napolionics, not nesesarily actual napolionics with fantasy elements, but sorta 18th very early 19th century tech + magic and other fantasy stuff, pre/peri-industrial but only just, whfrpg leans (allover the place but) earlier, and a lot of other fantasy stuff with guns leans eather Piracy, or steapunk?

THEME: Fantasy Napoleonics.

Hello friend, there's a lot of different elements going on here, so I"m casting a pretty wide net to show you what's out there. I hope something in here strikes your fancy! I primarily looked for games that felt like they fell within the right time frame, but I also threw in some games that maybe fall just outside your parameters in the hopes they spark something for you.

Castle Falkenstein, by R. Talsorian Games.

When computer game designer Tom Olam found himself sorcerously shanghaied by a rogue Wizard and a Faerie Lord, little did he suspect that he would soon become the pivotal force in the struggle to control an alternate Victorian Universe. But before the deadly game could end, he would first have to battle gigantic Landfortresses, outwit Dragons, romance a beautiful Adventuress, and defeat the Evil legions of a Dark Court determined to destroy him at all costs.  Then maybe, just maybe, he could find a way home again …

Originally published in 1994, Castle Falkenstein is set in the Victorian era, but with a magical twist. This is a world of swashbuckling and adventure, complete with elves, dwarves and magic - but also submarines, Sherlock Holmes, and England’s courtly sensibilities.

There’s going to be many different kinds of roleplaying options in this kind of game, including combat, feats of derring-do, and diplomacy! The thing that possibly makes this game a bit far from what you’re looking for is the ruleset. Rather than using dice, this game uses a deck of cards, with different suits being suitable for different tasks, while card value determines skill or difficulty.

When it comes to setting, however, you’re going to have a lot of great things to look at. The supplements for this game include The Lost Notebooks of Leonardo da Vinci, Curious Creatures, Steam Age, and more!

17th Century Minimalist, by Games Omnivorous.

Welcome to the 17th century minimalist.

This is a fast-paced and highly-deadly game with a pinch of black humour that puts characters as wanderers in 17th century Europe. You will play as tricksters, thieves, former soldiers, bankrupt swashbucklers and petty physicians, roaming the Old Continent in search of coin and glory. The system is designed to allow fast character creation, compatibility with other games (mostly in the OSR community) and a reckless style of play. 

The closest thing to magic in this game is an illusionist, but that doesn't stop this game from pushing your imagination. Games Omnivorous is pretty well-regarded in the OSR community. 17th Century Minimalist is meant to be simplified, fast-paced, and deadly, with technology like flintlock fire-arms, and goals like searching for treasure and glory. If you want to see a fuller review of this game, I’d recommend looking at Questing Beast’s video that covers the rules and the layout of the game.

A Guide to Casting Phantoms in the Revolution, by World Champ Games Co.

A Guide to Casting Phantoms in the Revolution is a single-session roleplaying game, in which players work together to summon specters to fight the aristocracy during the French Revolution. Featuring the pentacrawl system, Guide is different every time you play. Played on a story map in the shape of a pentagram, create a cast of characters, interpret symbols to create unique moments, and have the phantoms do you bidding—or you’ll do theirs!

This is a game with a number of physical, in-person components required to play. However, if you just have the pdf, the creator also directs you to online resources that you can print for the full experience. You are members of a secret cabal, casting phantoms to help you fight. This is a game that evokes the feeling of a ritual, and might feel magical or personal depending on how you play. It’s a strange mix of thematic storytelling and complex mechanics, so it might not be for everyone, but if you want to feel like a cult enacting revenge through eldritch rituals, I’d recommend checking this out!

Tales from the Aerosphere, by EfanGamez.

Tales from the Aerosphere is an original steampunk TTRPG that is powered by the Neon Nights system, a system that prioritizes seemingly limitless character creation freedom. From medics, to assassins, to mechanics, to a literal barbarian, there are THOUSANDS of character combinations you can play in Tales from the Aerosphere.

This game has its own setting, but all of the set pieces could be dropped, altered or changed if you like. The focus on this game is on character creation: the creator has outlined a number of discrete parts that you can use to not just put a unique character together, but tell you something about the world you’re in. If you’re a Spy, then there’s some kind of international conflict that hasn’t blown open into full-out war yet - perhaps there’s technology being developed that some nations don’t want others to learn about.

The game is extremely steampunk, with airships, CogWare that gives you exceptional abilities, and Tesla technology. It’s going to be on the more fantastical side of things, so if you really want to immerse yourself in another world, why not give it a go?

Shot & Splinters, by Tom Mecredy.

Shot & Splinters is a tabletop roleplaying game of naval adventure, inspired by Horatio Hornblower, Aubrey & Maturin, and Richard Sharpe. Drawing on history but not beholden to it, the game is set against the backdrop of the Napoleonic Wars, thrusting your characters into the heart of the conflict. 

If you want seafaring and piracy, this is probably the game for you. It’s set in a napoleonic time frame, but it has strange creatures located upon uncharted waters. The mechanics are OSR, so expect simple stats, tables upon tables of gear, and a hex crawl map of the uncharted seas. If you want more adventure in this world, you can also check out Beneath the Battlements, a city crawl that brings your characters through a city under invasion. Honestly, I think this game might be the closest on the list of what you're looking for in terms of technology level, and possibly theme.

Games I’ve Recommended in the Past

Lady Blackbird, by John Harper.

#dnd #historical games #steampunk #game recommendations #indie ttrpgs #tabletop games #asks #there's a lot of wide-reaching stuff here

[dolphin1812]

Mabeuf!!!

Mabeuf is hilarious. He's apolitical, although he respects those who are not, but he also happens to be growing the most political fruit in 1830s France: the pear. Although the connection to Louis-Philippe isn't made here, it does suggest that as much as one may want to remain distanced from politics, circumstances determine how much a person is able to maintain that distance, not the person themself. Mabeuf may have no political opinions, but that doesn't mean that politics don't affect him, or that others can't read politics into his actions (as I just did; he doesn't mean anything with those pears, but I can't see a pear without thinking of Louis-Philippe). More importantly to Mabeuf, only the truly fortunate can really escape politics:

"The Revolution of July brought a crisis to publishing. In a period of embarrassment, the first thing which does not sell is a Flora. The Flora of the Environs of Cauteretz stopped short. Weeks passed by without a single purchaser."

Mabeuf is poor in a similar way to Marius, where he's able to get by and even pay for some "luxuries" (as in, some simple enjoyments and/or a hobby), but his financial stability could disappear very quickly. The publishing crisis after the July Revolution caused just that. Without income from publishing, his situation became much more precarious, and while he still seems content and didn't suddenly become political, the consequences of politics on his life demonstrate the challenges of that position. It's nice that he's not prejudiced in the way Gillenormand is because of his "neutrality," but he's also not advocating for himself when these changes really do affect him. In a way, he's similar to Bishop Myriel, whose community efforts were great in every respect except the political. Mabeuf doesn't have that level of authority, but he shares many sentiments with the bishop: love of people (it's why he goes to church), respect for nature and knowledge, and a generally kind attitude. His lack of political beliefs hurts him more than it hurts his community, but it's still interesting to see this "flaw" repeated in a different way.

It's intriguing how Mabeuf's apolitical stance is linked to his distaste for violence as well. For instance, while he's friendly with several Bonapartists because he won't condemn their opinions, he's also extremely uncomfortable living at "Austerlitz," which shares the name of a famous battle during the Napoleonic Wars. Additionally, he flinches at all violence, with the example given being linked to the French Revolution. Weapons from the Invalides were used to storm the Bastille, so while Mabeuf is just avoiding a place because he dislikes cannons, he's also overlooking the way that politics is all around him because he detests violence. His stance on violence isn't wrong - we see a variety of justifiable positions on violence in the novel, with Valjean falling in the "no violence at all" camp as well - but the (a)political framing of his nonviolence is telling. It may be that he dislikes politics because he sees it as inherently violent (which is fair, given that he's lived through many violent moments in French history), which says as much about his experiences with politics as it does his personal feelings.

Even though Mabeuf's avoidance of politics is definitely a bad thing in a book with a very political message, I really love his character. He just loves books and plants! That's great for him, and it would be a pretty ideal way of life if he lived in a system that didn't place his livelihood at constant risk. He also has what is probably the best response to being asked about relationships that I've read:

"However, he had never succeeded in loving any woman as much as a tulip bulb, nor any man as much as an Elzevir. He had long passed sixty, when, one day, some one asked him: “Have you never been married?” “I have forgotten,” said he. When it sometimes happened to him—and to whom does it not happen?—to say: “Oh! if I were only rich!” it was not when ogling a pretty girl, as was the case with Father Gillenormand, but when contemplating an old book."

"I've forgotten" is definitely the funniest way to answer that question, and I love that books are his main motivation in everything. Hugo's a bit crueler about Mother Plutarque's similar avoidance of relationships, saying "None of her dreams had ever proceeded as far as man. She had never been able to get further than her cat." "Proceeded" implies that love of a man would be better than love for her cat, which also suggests that she should have gotten married. Granted, this is only implied here, but it does seem to be another instance of the strange tension between there being a lot of unmarried, somewhat sympathetic women in this book and Hugo thinking that marriage/motherhood is the ultimate goal for women. Mother Plutarque seems quite content with her cat, though, so if it weren't for the issue of poverty, she and Mabeuf would have been pretty happy with their very bookish lives.

#les mis letters #lm 3.5.4 #mabeuf #mother plutarque #I think that Mabeuf and Mother Plutarque basically reached the pinnacle of the convent gardener lifestyle #before poverty caught up to them #and I really wish that he'd been able to keep being a bibliophile in peace #his story always makes me so sad #even if his words and his pears make me laugh

[fang-and-feather]

Bloom

Ikemen Vampire: Napoleon/Reader - Family fic

Prompt: Flower Crowns, from the spring showers spring flowers event hosted by @aquagirl1978 and @violettduchess and Peace, from Year of the OTP April by @yearoftheotpevent

also @kissmetwicekissmedeadly

AO3 Link / IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

You laid on the blanketed area, watching with a smile as Napoleon carefully taught fencing to your little daughter. She had been insisting for a few days and he had finally given in.

While watching, you had the idea and started making a flower crown for each of them.

Sometimes you wondered if it was okay for her to learn. It wasn’t much of a feminine skill. Personally, you didn’t mind, of course, but questioned if it would affect her ability to socialize when she grew up.

No. It wouldn’t. Or you would make sure it didn’t. Let your little girl be who she wanted to be. Besides, she was too young for anyone to know if she wouldn’t change her mind. And then there were other things that would make her different from other people, things beyond your control. Things you wished you were better prepared to deal with.

For now, though, you just enjoyed the scene before you.

You always knew Napoleon was good with children as he taught a group in the city. None quite this young, though. And your daughter looked so focused and determined, but she was having fun. Whenever she did something wrong, she just giggled as Napoleon gently corrected her, then she went to try again.

You loved seeing father and daughter bonding.

You noticed her movements slowing down. Napoleon also noticed, but instead of calling the training out, he simply didn’t dodge the girl’s next attack, falling dramatically to the ground as the tip of the toy sword touched him.

Your daughter giggled and waits for him to get up, but when he didn’t, she dropped the sword and walked up to him, pulling at his arm.

“Come on, papa, you’re not dead.” Her initial laugh turned into a surprised yelp as Napoleon pulled her into his arms instead, and again into laughter as he tickled her. “Papa. Not fair.”

He laughed too, hugged the still laughing girl and picked her up. Still laughing, they returned to you.

“Mama!" the girl squirmed in her father’s arms, and Napoleon set her down so she could run to you. “Did you watch me?”

“Of course I did, little princess.” You kissed her forehead as she hugged you and settled one of the flower crowns over her head. “You will grow very strong, like your father.” You placed the bigger crown on Napoleon’s head while giving him a chaste kiss that made your daughter giggle and snuggle against you, hiding her face.

“Like her mother too.” Napoleon kissed you back. “Beautiful, strong, smart, and hardworking. Like you already are and more each day, right, princesse?” She didn’t answer, only looked up, seeming very pensive. “What is the problem?”

“Papa... can I still be a princess if I know how to fight?”

Napoleon laughed, but when the girl frowned, he tried to stop and patted her head.

“Of course you can. You will always be our little princess. Who said you can’t?”

“The princesses in the stories don’t know how. Only princes and knights fight.”

It was an interesting observation for her age. Children were so surprising sometimes.

“I think it’s about time we change that, then. Princesses should be able to defend themselves and the things they love.”

“Your father is right. Every girl is a princess, no matter what they’re like or what they do. And you’ll always be ours.” You both hugged her, and she laughed. “Besides, I know a story about a princess that knows how to fight and is very strong.”

“Yay! Story time!”

Napoleon sat by your side and the girl settled on her father’s lap, staring at you with these big jade eyes.

Story time was always fun for your family, although Napoleon was usually the one who insisted on reading for your daughter.

Was it right for you to tell a story from your time, though? But you did. Just between your family, it was fine, right?

Before the story even ended, your daughter was already asleep. You and Napoleon exchanged a look and a smile.

“Ready to go back, nunuche?”

“Seems like you really tired her.” You chuckled and stood up, starting to gather the things from the picnic.

Although he was already carrying your daughter, Napoleon insisted on carrying your things but, when you resisted, he let you do it and you two laughed about the situation.

Back home, Napoleon picked the flower crown from your daughter’s head and tucked her in bed.

While he did that, you hung both your crown and your daughter’s on the hooks in the wall. It was almost a tradition at this point, to make these crowns whenever the field was blooming and hang them until they dried.

“One more peaceful day.” Napoleon commented, hanging his own crown next to the others. “Thank you for being a part of this.” He kissed you.

“Save this for later.” You pretend yo complain, both of you smiling at each other. “But I should be the one thanking you. I never expected such a peaceful life, and you’re the one who makes me this happy.”

“That’s my line, nunuche.” Napoleon ruffled your hair and kissed your cheek this time. “I never knew I wanted a life like this, let alone that I would have it. Thank you.”

You two shared another kiss, longer and deeper and, this time, you didn’t even pretend to protest.

“And I’ll make you even happier.” You told him when you broke apart, reaching into the picnic basket you had left in a corner, to pick out a smaller flower crown you’d made while your husband and daughter were training.

Napoleon looked at you with confusion for a moment, then surprise and finally the smile you were expecting to see before he drew you into a hug. By the way he whispered your name, he sounded like he was about to cry.

You two stood there in each other’s arms for a while before Napoleon pulled away enough to look at you and, while still holding you in one arm, caressed your face with the other hand.

“You are the best thing that happened in my life, and that you are willing to grow this family with me is the best gift I could have. Thank you, mon amour.”

Chuckling, you leaned in to kiss him this time.

“You’re welcome, my prince.”

You knew that normal, peaceful life was exactly what made Napoleon happy, and you would make sure that happiness would continue to grow while you could, knowing he would do the same for you and both would make your growing family happy together, because that’s part of being a family, taking care of each other.

“How would you like to celebrate the occasion?” Napoleon asked, parting from you only to hang the new flower crown next to the other ones.

“I was thinking of a family trip tomorrow.” You approached and hugged him from behind, snuggling into his back. “But for today, why don’t you surprise me?”

Finding the will to write was difficult, but its not like I had many other things to do while recovering from my surgery... that may be the reason if anything feels off...

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

#spring showers spring flowers ccc #YOTP 2023 #ikemen vampire #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp #fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic #fang's writing

[cadmusfly]

oops more pokemon au

-

Two young men walk down the riverbank. Some would say that they are full of vim and vigor, but I would say that they are full of zeal and the flashing momentum of light and delight that right now is youthful defiance but later will be the steel determination of blade and shot.

The taller one is animated, black curly locks bouncing as he extols whatever virtue or lack of it he wishes today. The other has fastidiously styled his hair even on such a casual day, powdered locks framing a contemplative expression.

Beside them gambol new companions; two brown furred foxes peeking out over the voluminous tan fluff that serves as natural collars. They are a popular Pokémon as of late, symbolic of the potential and change of what is brewing in the air.

(And this was a time when there were only believed to be three paths for an Eevee to take; that of graceful water, zealous lightning or dancing flame.)

"I believe," says young Joachim Murat - and this is a scant few years before he decides to sign his name as a much more admired 'Marat', before that lands him in hotter water - "that my Eevee shall be elegant and beautiful as a Vaporeon- I will not pressure him to evolve before he is ready, of course! But if I do happen to find a Water Stone, then I will not profess to believe in fate- but would that not be quite lovely?"

Jean-Baptiste Bessières answers with a soft laugh, "You and I both, my friend. And all of France- I daresay Vaporeon is the most beloved, after Eevee itself."

"But we cannot both bear Vaporeons!" cries Murat. "If you were to stake your claim, I will begrudgingly let you do so, for that is the depths of my friendship towards you."

"Your desire- it is simply to catch the eyes of the ladies of France, no?"

"I cannot deny that a woman's delight at seeing the acrobatics of a Vaporeon is a charming sight," Murat says, "and one that I would not mind seeing again- and again and again! Ah, but they do also appreciate the fluff and the warmth of a Flareon- perhaps a Flareon would match the flames of my Ponyta, do you think?"

"But you do not consider Jolteon?" Bessières asks.

"It has its charms. White and yellow, a dazzling choice!"

"And fierce," Bessières says. "And bold. I have decided: You may have water, Joachim, and I will take lightning."

Murat stops in his tracks. He raises an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting that you wish to be the better of me, my dear friend?" His tone is teasing but not so light, probing at something unspoken but not unacknowledged.

Quietly but no less firmly, Bessières replies, "I do not know if there is a soul who could best you."

The two Eevees are not paying attention to this conversation, not at all, and so with the timing of a dramatic comedian-

plop!

One falls in the water.

"Ee-v-oi, ee-v-oi!" the other cries out, before jumping in as well.

They cannot swim! They are not imbued with the elemental energy of water that is collected in the miraculous Water Stone yet. Perhaps they could be taught to swim, but not yet, not yet.

And so the two men dash over to save their wayward pups, much to Bessieres' consternation as the powder in his hair soaks with water and powdered "snow" collects on his shoulders.

"Perhaps if there was an Ice Stone, that would suit you quite well!" Murat says with a laugh, later, as the two men sit on the edge of the river and dry off, Murat's Eevee shivering close to him, Bessières' shaking itself off quite nonchalantly.

"So you may retain your claim over water? That would suit me fine; unless it is discovered a path for Eevee that is more elegant and beautiful than Vaporeon, then I shall pursue that- if only to best you, Joachim."

"I look forward to the attempt!" Murat says.

And he truly does.

-

michel ney and a balloon

my thoughts on assigning pokemon teams to some of napoleon’s marshals

i don't actually know if bessieres would have powdered his hair at that point or much of the historical context here, this is vaguely set at some point In Cahors when these two were young men, the only accuracy i provide here is in respect to pokemon

#bessimu #cadmus writes #napoleonic rpf #cad rambles about dead frenchmen on main #napoleonic pokemon au

[ikeepwatchinghelicopters]

I obviously have to ask about Illya a pallas cat loool, but also the friendly fire one? I have no idea what fandom that's for but I'm curious anyway <3

Thank you very much for the ask!!

Lol, Illya as a pallas cat is pretty self-explanatory, I think. The basic idea is that Illya gets mysteriously transformed into a pallas cat and Napoleon and Gaby have to deal with the strangely friendly animal while also being worried sick about Illya, who they think is missing. There are lots of possibilities as to what exactly can happen while he is a cat and I haven't decided yet whether I should take the more angsty road or the more fluffy road. I have just the beginning written and I didn't even get to the part where he gets transformed yet. Here, enjoy this snippet and appreciate it, because I actually really dislike the movie Illya mentions and I had to rewatch parts of it to write those three sentences:

'It’s hard to determine how long he’s been walking before he stumbles upon a small house. It’s more of a hut, really. That means Illya must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere, because he definitely did not pass any civilisation while his snowmobile was still doing its job.

As he walks towards the hut, he feels like Ivan in Морозко. At least this hut has no chicken legs and hopefully any potential inhabitants will be more pleasant than a Baba Yaga. The trees around him don’t look particularly sentient either.'

The friendly fire one is a fic inspired by the Loki series. I think I started to write it for Febuwhump 2022 and it was supposed to be an exploration about what would happen to Casey if he got pruned and sent to the void in episode 1. The idea was that he would meet President Loki.

This snippet is the very end of what I have written because I didn't figure out how exactly the relationship between Casey and President Loki would look like, lol:

'“This is so messed up,” Casey whispered. He managed to stand up, which made his headache a bit worse, but at least the twitching has already stopped. The shivering continued, but Casey suspected it was more due to the cold now. He spotted some movement in his peripheral vision and turned towards it. He was suddenly looking at the face of the variant with the blue box. His clothes were different, and he wore some kind of horns around his head. Casey thought it looked rather tacky. “Hello!” the man leered at him. “Who are you?”'

#my fics #tmfu #loki

[violettduchess]

Napoleon Week 2022 ⚜️

A/N: This is for Napoleon Week 2022 hosted by the incredibly talented @kissmetwicekissmedeadly and @batteryrose

Today's prompt: scar/ "I can't call this beautiful" is worked into an idea I had for Napoleon hand-holding headcanons, since hand-holding is a really big part of his route.

I also wanted to dedicate this to @kissmetwicekissmedeadly as a very belated birthday present ✨

Writing after the jump!

WC: 1035

The air outside stings the bare skin of your hands like tiny needles, each one a cursed reminder of why one wears gloves in winter. You rush into the mansion, out of the cold, seeking warmth, and literally run right into the man you love. His Northern-light eyes take in your cheeks, the wringing of your hands, both red with winter’s burn. He reaches down, taking your hands in his, his smile as warm as summer sunshine as he rubs them gently, bringing life back into them, his first thought to care for you.

In a ballroom full of candlelight and glittering gowns and white-toothed smiles it is easy to feel disorientated, to spin and spin without a sense of direction in the midst of all that brightness. But Napoleon saves you from the arms of other men, pulling you to him, where you belong. One hand settles firmly on your waist, steadying you. The other takes yours, his gloves soft against your skin. He lifts your joined hands, his lips curving into a smile meant only for you. As the music changes and the new dance begins, you feel his grip tighten, reassurance flowing from him to you, a river of safety and security. His touch is your landmark, always enabling you to find your way back home.

Arthur knows your heart belongs to Napoleon but it doesn’t stop him from using his smooth words, his churning ocean eyes to try and capture your smile while lingering after breakfast. You evade him, his words breezing past you, as transparent as the wind. But Napoleon does not appreciate any of Arthur's flirting. He slides down into the chair next to you, his hand reaching for yours on top of the dining room table. His long fingers curl around your hand slowly, demonstratively, his eyes resting heavily on Arthur, hard as jade. Mine, they say. Elle est à moi.

Your heart races, your skin is on fire. Napoleon is lifting you higher and higher with each kiss of his mouth, each roll of his hips. You swear this is as close to flying as you will ever get, buffeted by fiery wings of want and need. You gasp out his name as the sky grows wider, brighter, all encompassing, and then his hands find yours, fingers interlocking, knuckles white as you both leap at the same time, holding onto each other as you reach the sun and then burn, lighting up the night, together.

Your boots pick their way carefully along the top of the small wall that separates the rolling green fields from the shadowy forest. The stones are mottled gray and white, veined with green moss. Carefully you place one foot in front of the other, determined to make it to the end. Napoleon walks alongside you, his arm lifted, his hand gripping yours. It doesn’t matter that the wall only reaches your knees. Or that you are certain you could manage it without his help. He insists, in the name of your safety. His hand holds you like a lifeline and you know should your ego be wrong, should you slip and fall, he will be there. He will catch you. He will keep you safe, always. 

Although your dream has broken and its pieces scatter like torn photographs in the wind, you can feel that the night is not over. In that liminal space between sleep and wakefulness, you stretch out your hand and find his. He is asleep, still wandering the corridors of dreaming, but his body knows. His fingers move, intertwining with yours, a reflex as fundamental as breathing. You sigh softly and your body grows heavy as you reach for your dreams again, Napoleon’s touch as soothing as a lullaby.

You stand in the gallery of Theo’s latest exhibit, in front of one of Vincent’s newest paintings. It is a field of wildflowers, swirling with bright, vibrant colors. Colors that reach into your heart and lift it, fill it with hope, with an appreciation for the beauty in the world that often goes unnoticed. You whisper to Napoleon how striking it is, how you can feel the heart of the painting reaching out from the canvas and touching your very soul. He remarks how he has never seen anything quite so enchanting. At the softness in his voice you turn to see his eyes are not on the painting but on you, on the effect it has on you. You smile, feeling a little silly that you should be moved to actual tears, but he lifts your joined hands, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. It is not silly to him. It is as exquisite as the painting itself.

One moment of distraction while slicing vegetables. That's all it takes for the knife to slip, bare its teeth and bite into the delicate skin on top of your hand. Weeks later you trace the line of the pink scar tissue, your trembling lip caught between your teeth. It's not so bad, the residents say. You're lucky you have all your fingers. But you feel marred, ugly, by something so trivial, so banal, as a kitchen knife. He comes into the darkened bedroom where you sit, watching you a moment. He then moves to where you are sitting on the edge of the bed, cradling your blemished hand. He kneels down slowly in front of you, his eyes like pools of glowing jade, the cosmos in miniature. He takes your hand, ugly and marked as it is, and lifts it to his cheek. He closes his eyes as he rubs his skin against yours, then turns his head to trace the long line with his lips. You are beautiful, he says in a whisper soft as silk. You can’t call this beautiful, you answer. There is no healing in the world that can compete with the light in his eyes when he opens them again. I am Napoleon Bonaparte, he says as he gathers your hands in his and rises, pulling you along with him. I can do whatever I want. And if I must spend the rest of our lives convincing you that you are beautiful to me, with scars or without, then it is my honor to do so.

*

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed

#napoleon week 2022 #ikemen vamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen napoleon #ikevamp napoleon #napoleon bonaparte #ikemen headcanons #violettwrites

[toodleroo]

Of Lice and Men: Raskolnikov’s Schism Between Humanity and the Extraordinary

“But why must they love me so much if I don’t deserve it? Oh, if only I’d been on my own and no one had loved me and I’d never loved anyone! None of this would have happened!”

posting this for the crime and punishment stans 😍😩 it was a close-reading assignment, where we took a passage and analyzed it in the broader context of the book. full essay under the cut!

Russian readers of Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment will immediately note the heavy-handed symbolism in the main character’s name. Raskol (раскол), meaning “schism,” reflects the two sides of Raskolnikov: his intellectualizing alter-ego and his own heart. Directly tied to this inner schism is Raskolnikov’s ideology of the “extraordinary,” which drives his actions throughout the novel. While it is most obviously related to Raskolnikov’s murders and his debatable sense of guilt, the “extraordinary” argument also demonstrates to the reader the schism in Raskolnikov’s sense of self: his concept of what defines a ‘human being’ and whether or not he falls into that category. In fact, it is his staunch determination to become a human being that causes him to attempt to break all bonds and emotional attachments. 

First, it is necessary to understand exactly what Raskolnikov’s “theory of the extraordinary” is. The initial instance where it comes up is during Raskolnikov and Porfiry’s intellectual battle of wits, wherein a horrified Razumikhin hears Raskolnikov explain that “people, by a law of nature, are divided in general into two categories: the lower one (the ordinary) … and actual people, i.e., those with the gift or the talent to utter … a new word” (242). This is the first time the reader sees that Raskolnikov distinguishes between “actual people” and the “lower,” the “ordinary.” Further, in his article “On Crime,” Raskolnikov “hints” (in his own words) that “an ‘extraordinary’ person has the right… not an official right, that is, but a personal one, to permit his conscience to step over… certain obstacles” (241). Raskolnikov gives the examples of Lycurgus, Solon, Muhammad, and Napoleon: all “criminals to a man” only for violating “the ancient law held sacred by society” (241). So in summary, an “extraordinary” is a person who is permitted to supersede their own conscience to affect some sort of greatness. Often, the extraordinary goes against societal values—the status quo—to do so.

Since Raskolnikov’s conception of an “actual” human is connected to his theory of the extraordinary, he enters a cycle of seeking and rejecting human contact throughout the book as he grapples with the realization that he himself is not an extraordinary. Early on, it is established that Raskolnikov unconsciously seeks out human connection: in Part II, after wandering around St. Petersburg in a fevered, delirious haze the day after the murders, Raskolnikov finds himself at Razumikhin’s apartment (104). After chiding himself for winding up there, Raskolnikov ends up following through (“What’s to stop me…?”) and goes to see his friend. However, after Razumikhin expresses concern at his sickly state, Raskolnikov instantly regrets the visit: “In a flash, he has seen for himself that the very last thing he felt like doing … was to come face to face with anyone at all in the whole world” (105). He even “all but choked with self-loathing the second he crossed Razumikhin’s threshold” (105), which implies that Raskolnikov viewed the act of seeking out a friend as a weakness. Before the reader even knows the extent to which Raskolnikov has intellectualized himself away from culpability, they see early on this schism between what his subconsciousness wants to do and what he tells himself he should be feeling. 

Despite the fact that he hates himself for it, Raskolnikov ends up seeking human connection again very soon after this—but from strangers this time, so as to not have to confront the concern of a friend. He goes on a walk to Haymarket and starts conversation with two strangers he comes across, who look upon him and his sickly appearance with “wild astonishment” and disdain, respectfully (146). Following these failed attempts, Raskolnikov sees a throng of people across the street and has “a strange urge to talk to everyone he met” (146). His desperation for emotional connection is obvious here, but as it grows more intense throughout the novel, so do Raskolnikov’s attempts to suppress it—which is in tandem with his orbiting closer and closer to Sonya. 

Even as he finds himself incapable of staying away from Sonya and incapable of holding himself back from confessing to her, due to his desire to be an independent entity unbothered by emotional attachment, Raskolnikov revolts against himself even in the last instant before his confession. After he tells Sonya that, despite his intentions to do the opposite, he ended up coming to her asking for forgiveness, he feels “a strange, unexpected sensation of almost caustic hatred” towards her. Surprised by this feeling, he lifts his gaze to Sonya, only to see that “there was love” in her expression. His hatred vanishes “like a phantom,” and he realizes that “he’d got it wrong; mistaken one feeling for another” (383). Echoing the scene in Razumikhin’s apartment, Raskolnikov, when confronted by the concern of the people who love him, labels this cornered, overwhelmed feeling as “hatred,” an emotion that pushes others away instead of inviting them closer. However, the astute self-awareness that he is cursed with overtakes his initial pushback.

Indeed, Raskolnikov’s awareness that he is not an extraordinary sets the framework for his own internal crisis, as he cannot himself satisfy the definition of a true human that he came up with. When he confesses to Sonya, he goes on about how he knew that he was not an extraordinary—“…that if I asked, ‘Is a human being a louse?’, then man was certainly no louse for me, only for someone to whom the question never occurs…” (393). Going into the murder having already realized this, he then tells her, “I just killed. I killed for myself, for myself alone” (393). Raskolnikov is desperately willing himself to be an independent force in the world, untethered by social law and rational thought. He “needed to find out … whether [he] was a louse, like everyone else, or a human being” (393). He once again confirms that it is the “extraordinaries” whom he considers to be truly human; “everyone else” is a louse and does not qualify. By this definition, in order to be a completely independent extraordinary, one must reject all human attachment—in fact, human attachment must never have been valued by them in the first place. Thus Raskolnikov’s frustration: “If only I’d been on my own and no one had loved me and I’d never loved anyone!” He wishes he could have been on his own, he wishes no one had loved him, and more than any of that, he wishes he had the ability to never have loved anyone, for this would have vaulted him to the level of extraordinary.

Such cognizance applies to Raskolnikov’s moral conscience, also, when he asks himself, “Why must they love me so much if I don’t deserve it?” He’s already admitted that an extraordinary would not have been concerned with whether they had the right to kill or not (393), so the same logic applies to the question of whether or not they would deserve love. For an extraordinary, the thought would never have even crossed their mind—they don’t need love. In fact, according to Raskolnikov’s understanding of an extraordinary, they must rebuff love from others in order to be a true human being. Raskolnikov, on the other hand, is tearing himself up about the fact that he does not deserve the love of his family and friends, thereby proving once more that he is not an extraordinary. 

If Raskolnikov had been an extraordinary, then “none of this would have happened”; were he completely able to separate himself as a step above everyone else, then he would not have to turn himself in. In the following paragraph, he goes on about how the experience of being incarcerated will do nothing to humble him (489), thereby proving that at this point, the reason he will go to the police bureau is not a desire to repent for the murders. He’s furious that his family and friends care so much about him that they urge him to turn himself in, he’s furious that he will lose them all if he doesn’t, and most of all, he’s furious that he won’t be able to take that: complete isolation from the people who love him. So, he is trapped—not only by Porfiry, but by his own humanness, which he has tried to bury for the entire novel. In submitting to his loved ones’ hope that he will repent and turning himself in, he will officially be—by his own definition—no longer human, only a louse. In the end, though, as Raskolnikov accepts that others care for him, and that he cares that they care, he actually confirms his humanity. 

The reason for which Raskolnikov is drawn to Sonya exemplifies the root of his internal conflict: Sonya is the least extraordinary person in his life and therefore the most “louse”-like—or, the most human. Dunya articulates this in expressing relief that her brother “sought out a human being [in Sonya] when a human being was what he needed” (489). While Raskolnikov would consider Sonya “a louse,” the narrator calls her a “human being,” negating the ideology that Raskolnikov has attempted to adhere to throughout the novel. Therefore, Raskolnikov’s circling around Sonya to the end of the novel—even into the epilogue, where he spurns her in prison but then finds himself weeping at her feet (516)—is the epitome of his pattern of embracing and resisting human connection. Raskolnikov’s theory of the extraordinary, and his attempts to resist being a louse, are an overlooked link to the internal schism that compels all of his actions.

#crime and punishment #crime&punishment #dostoevsky #fyodor dostoevsky #dostoyevsky #classic lit #russian lit #dark academia #lol #if you think i'm projecting about sasuke uchiha in this a little bit it's because i am! <3 #i speak

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Ikevamp Act 2.5

Chapter 17 Romantic

I'll find Halil's missing sister and clear the suspicion put on their family.

And if Vlad tries to punish the traffickers, I will definitely stop him.

With this determination, we planned our next move.

Comte: "I've identified the showmen, suppliers, and nobles who are deeply involved in the World Fair."

Comte: "I also found traces of some suspicious transactions."

We all look through the bundle of documents that Comte has brought.

Sebastian: "That's a very detailed information. As expected of you, Comte."

Comte: "I've been helping the organizers a bit."

Comte: "Plus, Theo and Will helped me out. They're very open-minded because of their work."

Shakespeare: "Fufu, it was fun listening in with you. Little brother."

Theo: "Tch. You were just covering your favored clients."

Vincent: "I see you two were playing detective together. Thanks for your hard work."

Shakespeare chuckles at Theo as he asks him bitterly to stop.

Arthur: "I also looked into the weird movements of showmen and aristocrats, leading me to a certain black organization."

Putting together what everyone had found out, the showman who brought Halil and his family had ties to a black market group, and Halil's sister, Ulfa, may have been sold to that organization.

Arthur: "In addition to that, I got this information."

Arthur pulled out a letter of invitation.

It was an ominous-looking black envelope with a bright red wax seal.

Mitsuki: "Let's see. On a moonlit night, we will hold our meeting."

Mitsuki: "Does that mean something will happen on the night of the full moon?"

Isaac: "There's some cryptic writing on it that probably indicates a location within Paris."

Arthur: "Mitsuki and Newt are both right on the money. A shady black organization is planning to hold a meeting."

Isaac: "How did you even get an invitation like this, Arthur?"

Arthur: "Hm? Well, I had to sweet-talk a maid who works for an aristocrat and ask her to do all sorts of things."

Isaac: "What do you mean by that?"

Theo: "I guess being a flirty writer in heat can come in handy sometimes."

Arthur: "If you're going to compliment me, you could do a little better than that, Theo."

Arthur: "And Mitsuki, this is just for research. I didn't really hit on her, okay?"

Mitsuki: "Hm? Yeah, sure. It's something you can only do. Good job!"

Arthur: "Wow. You don't even care at all."

As I tilted my head at Arthur's reaction, Comte put his finger to his chin and muttered.

Comte: "Dark gathering, huh? Sometimes, people buy and sell illegally obtained goods, slaves, and perform satanic rituals in those venues."

Sebastian: "Does that mean there's a good chance that Halil's sister will be brought there?"

Shakespeare: "If the nobles are involved, they may be colluding with the police. It's better to move with caution."

Napoleon: "If we call the police, they will escape before we even get there. They'll be on the lookout."

We should probably figure out how to move on from here.

Mitsuki: "I have a plan."

A few days later, on the night of the full moon, we visited the place mentioned in the invitation.

Nobleman: "Oh? If it isn't the Count of Saint Germain? I didn't expect to see you here."

Comte: "I've heard rumors of an intriguing gathering. When you get tired of living out in the open, there's always a lot to be curious about."

Comte: "Mitsuki, you should say hello too."

Mitsuki: "Good day to you. Let's have some fun tonight."

Comte and I linked arms as I lifted my dress lightly and did a curtsy.

Tonight, Comte and I are infiltrating the gathering as invited guests.

(Great. Looks like everyone got into the venue safely.)

I quickly look around and see Mozart playing the piano in the hall.

Jean, on the other hand, is mixed in with the guards deployed for security.

Dazai and Shakespeare also followed us right along as invited guests.

(Leonardo said he would sneak in from the back, but... he'll be fine, right?)

The other members are supposed to stay outside the venue, and if anything goes wrong, they will call the police or help us.

Comte: "Chérie, whatever happens, you have to stay with someone. Is that clear?"

Mitsuki: "Yes. Let's trust everyone that it will work out."

Comte: "Yeah, I believe in them. I have you and everyone.”

I was the one who suggested that we infiltrate the gathering.

Despite their objections, I begged them to let me join the undercover team.

As we were casually conversing, I heard the voices of the invited guests around us.

Guest 1: "I hear tonight's ritual involves a special sacrifice."

Guest 2: "They say it's going to be a child of a foreign tribe."

(Foreign tribe? Are they talking about Ulfa?)

(It looks like the guests are looking forward to the sacrifice thing.)

Apparently, this organization performs human sacrifices under the guise of rituals to pray to the gods.

Dazai: "It looks like an elegant party, but it's actually a horrifying one."

Dazai: "For Vlad, both the organizers of this group and the invited guests are likely to be purged."

Mitsuki: "Will he come tonight?"

Shakespeare: "It would be easy for that man to use his brainwashing powers to obtain information about the gathering."

(If Vlad tries to harm someone, I'll stop him.)

(But I don't know if I can really change his mind even if this whole thing settles down.)

(What can I tell Vlad...?)

Just as I was pondering this, the place started to buzz.

A man who looked like the organizer of the group appeared in the center of the hall and smiled.

Organizer: "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this gathering. Tonight is the night of the full moon, a time when the power of the devil rises. Let us drink together!"

As the guests raise their glasses high in unison, a large cloth-covered crate is brought in.

Organizer: "Ladies and gentlemen, here is tonight's sacrifice."

Organizer: "She is the daughter of an aberrant race of vampires―monsters that sip the blood of humans!"

As the organizer signaled the cloth to be removed, a frightened-looking girl appeared trapped in a cage.

(He looks like Halil. That's Ulfa!)

Guest 1: "Oh, so this is the vampire. How dare you deceive us by looking like a human!"

Just the presence of one little girl makes the invited guests weep and lament, filling the air with an odd atmosphere.

Ulfa: "Where am I? H-Help!"

Several hooded men drag the unwilling Ulfa out and force her to lie on a prepared pedestal.

I couldn't help but grab Comte's coat, seeing her being forced like that.

Comte: "Bear with it. It's going to be okay."

Mitsuki: "Okay."

As I watched with bated breath, one of the hooded men took a dagger.

Ulfa: "!!"

Organizer: "Let's now sacrifice this girl and praise our God!"

He raises the dagger above Ulfa's head and lowers it.

(----!)

The next thing I heard was a man moaning.

Hooded man: "Guh!?"

The hooded man next to him squeezes the arm of the man holding the dagger.

Organizer: "H-Hey you, what are you doing!?"

???: "Sacrificing and praising God, you say? More like a satanic ritual to me."

The man who took off his hood was...

Leonardo: "Well, this is as far as you go."

(Leonardo!)

Leonardo drags the man and thrusts the dagger into the floor.

His charming, confident smile is still very encouraging at a time like this.

Comte: "As expected of Leonardo. Just as planned."

Comte: "We'll attract the guards. Will, take care of Mitsuki."

Shakespeare: "Yes. Let your instincts, hidden under a mask of elegance, run wild."

Mitsuki: "Comte, be careful!"

Comte smiled and flipped his coat.

Organizer: "Intruder! Guards, get them!"

The armed guards attack Leonardo while protecting Ulfa behind him.

As he dodged them effortlessly, one guard came up behind him and tried to knock him down.

But Comte knocked him over before he could even land a punch.

Leonardo: "Oh, you're joining in?"

Comte: "Yeah. I can't let you have the floor all to yourself... Right?"

Guard: "Agh!"

While chatting, Comte knocked one of the guards.

Their sudden appearance, standing shoulder to shoulder, without even using weapons, is enough to make the guards flinch.

Comte: "Okay, who's next?"

Leonardo: "Come on, I'll go easy on you."

The two men overwhelmed the guards with their inhuman presence.

While the purebloods show their hidden strength, the invited guests panic and rush toward the entrance.

But the door didn't open, and the pianist, who had just been playing, said these in a cold, icy voice.

Mozart: "Don't even try. By now, my friends waiting outside had probably called the police."

Mozart: "Too bad you're all caught red-handed here."

Guest 1: "Are you one of the intruders? Open the door!"

Dazai: "If the door won't open, why don't you just go out the window?"

Dazai: "I've closed that one too, though. Ahaha."

Dazai laughs as he swings a bundle of keys in his hand.

Mozart: "Looks like it worked. Dazai, when did you get the keys?"

Dazai: "Well, I just borrowed it from one of the vips."

The guests, realizing that there’s no way out, kneel on the spot in horror.

Guest 1: "Damn it! If we get caught like this, it will be the end of my family's reputation."

One of the desperate guests attacked Mozart, but a shadowy figure between them knocked him off his feet.

Jean: "It's not something an aristocrat would do recklessly."

Dazai: "Jeanie, you look so dashing and handsome.”

Mozart: "Dazai, stop talking nonsense, and help me find the other captives."

Dazai: "Got it."

Mozart: "Jean, I'll leave this to you."

After making sure Jean nodded, Mozart and Dazai ran out of the place.

While Leonardo and Comte distracted the guards, Shakespeare and I headed to Ulfa.

Mitsuki: "You're Ulfa, right? Don't worry. We talked to Halil, and we're here to help.”

Ulfa: "My brother is safe? Thank God...!"

Shakespeare: "Napoleon and the others should be waiting outside. Come on, let's hurry."

Mitsuki: "Gotcha!"

Shakespeare picked up Ulfa and ran to the escape route he surveyed beforehand.

As I tried to follow, the organizer behind me shouted angrily.

Organizer: "Our precious sacrifice! Don't think I'll let you leave after ruining our gathering!"

He picked up the fallen dagger and stared at me, sending chills down my spine.

(It's okay. I've got enough distance. If I keep running, I can―)

Mitsuki: "Kyaah!?"

I was in such a hurry that I didn't watch my step.

Seconds after my foot stumbled over a knocked down guard and fell, the man who was closing in on me swung the dagger over my head.

Shakespeare: "Mitsuki!!"

(I can't dodge it!)

The moment I closed my eyes and prepared for the pain, I felt a slight breeze and smelled the scent of roses.

(Right now...)

I opened my eyes fearfully and saw...

Vlad: "..............."

Mitsuki: "Vlad!?"

The sound of swords clashing echoes high in the air.

Jean lets out a small gasp as he knocks down the guards, trying not to hurt them more than necessary.

Jean: "Guh! One after another. Looks like the odds are against us."

The sword's tip closed in on him just as he was thinking of taking up a stance with Comte and Leonardo.

Guard: "I got you, intruder!"

Jean: "----!"

Immediately afterward, however, the guard who attacked him jumped and fell on the spot.

With a syringe in hand, the man behind him looked down at the twitching guard.

Faust: "Looks like the sedative I gave him is a little strong."

Jean: "You―no. I'll thank you later."

They glance at the guards surrounding them and put their backs against each other.

Faust: "There are a lot of guinea pigs here. How would you guys like me to experiment on you? Cutting you up with a scalpel or drugging you?"

Jean: "Hmph. Just don't kill them, Father."

Jean readies his sword again, and Faust pulls out a silver scalpel.

Their piercing look and smile are enough to scare the guards away.

As I looked up from my tumble to the floor, I saw a jet-black cloak and silver hair reflecting the light.

I have no doubt that he showed up to cover for me...

Mitsuki: "Vlad..."

Just then, another figure rushes to my side.

Charles: "Mitsuki, are you hurt?"

Mitsuki: "Charles. I'm fine, but..."

Leonardo & Comte: "Vlad!"

Shakespeare: "My Lord..."

As they all lock gazes, Vlad grabs the organizer's wrist with one hand and grips the blade of the dagger with his other.

The blade dug into his skin, but he didn't even care about the blood trickling down.

Organizer: "Eeek!"

Vlad: "You're using this stuff to glorify God?"

(He's angry.)

His usual soft voice sounds horrifyingly cold.

Vlad, obviously mad, threw down the dagger and immediately grabbed the man by the neck.

Vlad: "What will your God grant you for sacrificing this poor soul?"

Organizer: "Guh! You're hurting me. Let go!"

Vlad: "This world is rotting ugly because of stupid and wicked people like you."

Vlad continues to squeeze the man even tighter.

(He's going to die at this rate!)

Shakespeare: "Wait, my lord."

Leonardo & Comte: "Vlad, stop!"

Vlad: "I don't want flowers that do bad things to this world or humans."

Mitsuki: "Stop, Vlad!"

Previous Part╏Next Part

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp act 2.5 #ikevamp 2.5 #ikevamp jp #ikevamp #ikevamp translations #cybird #ikemen series

[squeakyfir]

A small hostage (A night at the museum 2 X Child! Reader Fanfiction)

Description:

You, an eight year old child who was left behind on a school field trip gets locked inside the Smithsonian and are held hostage by wax figures of historical figures. Though one was cruel, the other's were a bit mean but they showed a bit of care. So much for being evil. There were questions that needed answers.

Will you live?

Will you die?

Will you see your family again?

Will you even remember this night?

Enjoy!

*I do not own the night at the museum movies. All rights to the characters and storylines belong to 20th Century Studios ™*

Chapter 3

Previous ~ Next

"YOU GOT THIS"!

Kahmunrah returned to his throne and Capone sat you down but this time, on a box that was in front of him. "You asked me a question. What was it again"?

"Nothing" you said in a quiet tone of voice and you also felt tears forming in your eyes. You didn't want to tell them, but you didn't want to die. Kahmunrah didn't seem to care about you and would most likely have no problem killing you. A tear fell from your eye and Capone quickly noticed. "Hey, come on. Don't start that. Don't-"

You started to quietly sob and had more tears fall. Capone stood up and bent down in front of you. "Hey, look at me". You looked up and he saw your slightly red and watery eyes. "Come on, tell me. What's wrong"?

You quietly said, "I don't want to die". Capone's heart fell apart... well... if he had a heart. He was made of wax but he felt as if his non existent heart fell apart. Napoleon and Ivan also heard your plea and felt extreme pain and sadness. Kahmunrah also heard but he didn't care one bit. In fact, he found it a bit amusing. Capone had an instinct overwhelm him. He quickly picked you up and sat down on your box with you on his lap.

You were surprised by this action but Capone was beyond surprised he was doing this. It was weird at first but you felt more relaxed and rested your head on his shoulder. Capone felt a bit embarrassed with all eyes on him but he didn't care anymore. Kahmunrah then stood up and went down. "I'll return in a moment".

Capone then said, "I remember doing this, with my son".

"You had a son" you asked.

"Yeah. His name was Albert but we mostly called him Sonny. You remind me of him". You had a small smile on your face and Capone was still wondering how he reacted so caring to you. It caught him and the other men by complete surprise. He felt as if Sonny was right there with him. Just a different gender is all. Kahmurah then came back and looked excited. "Gentlemen, I have something for us to do".

Capone put you down and walked off. You tried following him but one of Napoleon's men took you by the arm to stop you. The solider took you and then Napoleon made you stand in between two guards. You looked up and saw Kahmunrah giving you a look of disgust but he then said, "Gentlemen, I have thought long and hard to determine how I should split up my new realm amongst you so I have come up with a solution". Kahmunrah then lifted up a twister board.

"Prepare yourselves". He flicked the board and said, "This is going to be fun. Right foot, BLUE". Napoleon and Ivan were on the world map with North America as blue, south America as yellow, Africa as red, Europe as Green. They both took their right foot and put it on North America. "Excellent. Left foot, RED". The two men then put their left foot on Africa. As Kahmunrah was about to flick the spinner, he said, "Where's Mr. Capone? Doesn't he want to play"?

"YEAH, I AIN'T PLAYING NO GAME'S". You all looked towards the sound of his voice and he looked pissed off. "You know about this"? Ivan shrugged and said, "I had heard a rumor".

Capone looked back at what he was looking at and said, "I'm gonna be fat! And locked up for 'tax evasion'... 'tax evasion'..." Capone threw his hat down and yelled, "WHAT KIND OF PUNK GETS PINCHED FOR TAX EVASION"!? You didn't know why adults got so angry with taxes or why gas was only two dollars and fifty cents. What's the big deal? You wanted to ask but given as to how mad Capone was, you just kept quiet.

"We'll have to continue some other time" said Kahmunrah as he put the twister board aside. As Kahmunrah walked down the marble steps, he said, "Now, will one of you get this little creature out of my sight". One of Capone's men took you by your arm and pulled you along. There was a small round table and while two of Capone's men stood at it doing whatever, you stood off to the side and sat down with your back against the wall.

Capone started heading over to the table and started to talk. You didn't know how much more of this you could take. Dang it, are they going to kill you or not!? Capone was the only one you trusted this far. Napoleon and Ivan needed more time to earn your trust. But Kahmunrah... there was no doubt that he hates you. The only reason why he hasn't killed you yet is because he's bound by the agreement that he made with Mr. Daley. If Mr. Daley doesn't return in an hour, then he'll kill you and his friends.

You didn't want to die. You're too young. At least Capone and Napoleon both agreed to say that they don't kill children. That was a relief. But when Ivan said if there was a reason as to why then he might. That wasn't very comforting. You sighed and held your knees close to you. Capone looked over at you and saw a small tear fall from your eye. "Kid, you ok"?

You looked up and saw him looking at you. You rubbed your eye and said, "Yeah. I'm fine". Capone didn't believe you so he then said, "Your not good at lying, kid. What's wrong"? Before you spoke, you felt your stomach grumble. You then remembered you had food in your back pack. "I'm just hungry". Capone then looked confused and lost. "I don't know what to feed you".

"I have food, but am I allowed to eat it"?

Capone looked around to see if Kahmunrah would at least allow this but he wasn't around. "Where is he"?

"He went to try something on. It looks a bit strange to be honest" said Ivan. Capone then looked back at you and said, "Go ahead". You took your backpack off and started eating what was left of your lunch. While eating, you were able to to take a look at your phone to realize it was dead. That's why no called you. You must've used up the vast majority of the battery during the tour and when you set that one hour timer.

Kahmunrah was then seen coming back in the room and you quickly put it away so he wouldn't see you eating. Kahmunrah was wearing Muhammad Ali's boxing robe. "You know I... I do sorta feel like a floating butterfly" he said.

"You are crazier than a road lizard" said the man in the hour glass. You laughed at that comment and then Ivan said, "Mr. Egypt. These two had heard that were taking over the world and they want in. I don't know who they are, but they, they're on exhibit here to apparently". You looked over and couldn't believe what you saw.

Darth Vader and Oscar the grouch.

You quickly stood up and Kahmunrah went over and said, "I don't even know what they are. Uhm, I'm sorry but were all full up on our axis of evil today. Sorry".

"Oh, come on. But I'm bad, I'm bad. Hey, I can show you how bad I am. Arr-rr, fear me, aah... uhh". You tried walking over to them but one of Capone's men stopped you. "Don't go over there" he said firmly.

"I'm sorry, I'm just not buying it. You don't seem very bad, you just seem sort of... vaguely grouchy to me" said Kahmunrah. Capone then whispered to you, "Do you know who those two freaks are"?

"Mm-hmm. That's Darth Vader and Oscar the grouch. Darth Vader is evil and Oscar is... just grouchy". Capone had a small grin appear since he found your response to be... cute.

Wait?

Cute!

Yep, you heard that right. Al Capone, one of the most notorious criminals and deadly gangster found an eight year olds response... cute. He felt surprised as well but he figured it had something to with the memory of his son. But since he's made of wax and ever since you became 'a hostage', he felt his paternal instincts kick in. He couldn't explain why. It was most likely stemmed to the fact that he wasn't exactly a good father.

At least, that's what he felt.

"What are you doing"? You and Capone looked and saw Darth Vader trying to use the force with his hand. "What is that? What is this? Is that you breathing? Because I can't hear myself think. Can I just make a suggestion to you, just simplify, there's too much going on here. Your evil, your asthmatic, your a robot, and what is the cape for? Are we going to the opera? I don't think so. Sorry". Darth Vader then shut the lid on Oscar's trashcan. "Goodbye".

"Attention!He's leaving with the tablet" yelled Napoleon from where he was watching by the window with his scope. "Where" asked Kahmunrah as he went towards him. He took the scope from him and looked out the window. "He's not trying to figure the combination, he's trying to escape. GO! GO! ALL OF YOU! KILL HIM! BRING ME THAT TABLET"!

Capone and his men started to head out but you then saw Kahmunrah coming towards you. You got scared, thinking he was going hurt you, but he grabbed you by the arm and said, "Mr. Capone". Capone looked back and saw the strong grip on your arm and instantly looked mad. "Take this brat with you", he then shoved you forward and you fell to the floor. Capone looked even more angrier but you quickly got up and ran to hide behind him. Napoleon even looked upset by that action and, surprisingly, so did Ivan.

"COME ON PEOPLE, LET'S GO! WITHOUT THAT TABLET, WE'RE NOTHING"!

"Strellsty! Go"! Ivan's men then ran out to get Mr. Daley and Capone then said, "Come on kid". You followed after Capone and his men only to feel confused and relieved to finally get away from Kahmunrah. Capone quickly took your hand and still pressed on. His grip was firm and strong. But if Capone would've known better, it reminded you of someone. Someone... horrible.

It made you want to run away and get somewhere safer but Capone's grip proved it was impossible to escape and it also told you that he wouldn't hurt you. One word... confusion.

Do you run?

Or...

Do you except this and keep going?

Let's find out...

#will add more tags later

[perssuassive]

( mason gooding; genderfluid ; he/they ; got my mind set on you by sharaya summers ) hey, look! isn’t that MARCEAU BOUCHER? the 26/207 year old VAMPIRE is known to be DYNAMIC and OBSESSIVE. they’ve been in town for TWO WEEKS and always remind me of a party that’s gone on a little too long, crumpled up and discarded love poems, sharp teeth skating along a bottom lip, feelings gone unspoken. let’s hope they survive what’s to come. ( @ashwickstarters )

this is my newest son marceau (mars) and let’s say... he’s also messy JHDBJHD CW: CAR CRASH, HISTORICAL TREATMENT OF BIPOC (neither discussed in great detail!!)

STATISTICS

NAME. marceau boucher NICKNAME. mars GENDER  /  PRONOUNS. genderfluid  /  he & they SEXUALITY. bisexual FACECLAIM. mason gooding AGE. two-hundred seven PLACE OF BIRTH. french louisiana (new france) DATE  OF  BIRTH.  november 20th ZODIAC. scorpio HAIR  COLOR. dark brown EYE  COLOR. brown HEIGHT. 6′2 + TRAITS. dynamic, magnetic, gregarious, extroverted, adventurous, determined - TRAITS. obsessive, jealous, impulsive, secretive, stubborn, dramatic, codependent

HISTORY

marceau boucher’s story started before he was even a thought in his mother’s head. marceau’s maternal grandfather was a freedman who had moved his family to new france, where they acquired a farm to sustain themselves. their mother grew up entrenched in cajun culture, learning french before the english her father spoke. life was never perfect, but it was better than others had. that was—until the year of 1803. she was only thirteen when napoleon bonaparte sold all of the louisiana territory to the united states, the same country her father had fled all those years before. 

once again, they would flee, only this time across oceans. paris, france had been heralded as a safe haven for african americans. it was in paris, for the first time in his long life, that marceau’s grandfather stopped looking over his shoulder every other second. it was in paris that marceau’s father would meet their mother, where the two would have a quiet wedding and a child. paris shaped marceau—the first fifteen years of his life were chaotic, the monarchy desperately fighting for its crown back. once they did claim the crown, life in the eastern district grew even more chaotic, as famously described by victor hugo. 

at twenty-five years old, spurned by the city that had so lovingly welcomed his mother thirty years before, marceau took up arms. it was during an early revolutionary riot that marceau was nearly trampled and saved by a mysterious stranger. long since disenchanted with their life, it took very little for them to be swept up in the romance of this stranger. see, they lived the life of le bohéme, of art and poetry and love. not only had this stranger saved marceau’s life, but they showed them an entirely new one. marceau didn’t even flinch when the stranger revealed their true nature and offered him a piece of it. 

of course, as it seemed to be so common then, not long after marceau’s change did their sire disappear. lucky for marceau, they could fit in anywhere, and soon they were living the life they’d once wished for. still, they swore they would never do what their sire had done to them. no, he would be loyal to his sirelings for life.

once the americas were more welcoming to folks like him, he found himself drawn back to the place his mother had come from. they traveled from place to place, too restless to stay anywhere for too long. it was during this listless travel that marceau (now going by mars in the modern age) met oz. to this day, mars insists that meeting was their third birth (first, human. second, vampire. third, oz’s). they kept their nature a secret, growing infatuated with the delicate human with strange sensibilities and even stranger acquaintences. of course, they planned to turn ozwalt sooner rather than later, but the choice was taken out of their hands when oz got into a fatal car crash. since then, oz has insisted he hates mars for everything between them, but mars is still convinced they’re soulmates. recently, mars has come to ashwick not only interested in the invincibility promised, but to once again be close to oz.

mars is far from the “appropriate” vampire one might expect from today’s media. they frequently indulge themselves in supernatural delights—expect no “vegetarian” vampire here.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

vampires he met throughout history!! esp french ones (maybe they know his sire?)  a witch they met for daytime enchantments and liked enough to stick around party friends!! an old fling they dropped to chase oz (bitter exes maybe?) a friend that just doesn’t understand mars’s continued interest in oz (a realist, trying to help mars to see oz hates them maybe???) someone who can see past mars’s immatureness and wants to help him with the trauma he still carries from his time as human and many many more !!!

#intro #ashwickintro

[waifu-napoleon]

I’m glad to see that I’m not the only one who thinks that the pool table scene in this documentary got some... let’s call it “tension”. The giggling, the intense staring, the whispering, the choice of words. That scene could be taken out of context easily.

For context (and to translate): During the pool table scene, Luise and Alexander are, well, playing pool in a dimly lit room. Luise mentions how much she missed Alexander, reading all of the letters he sent her multiple times, to which he responds with “I’ve also been thinking about you a lot.” They keep playing and Alex compliments Luise, mentioning how everything she does is full of grace and determination. Luise responds by giggling and asking him if he’s noticed all the people who came to see and admire him, to which he replies that they surely weren’t there just for him. He moves around the table and closer to her, both of them staring into each others eyes for so long that the staff around them start raising an eyebrow at them. Luise notices and turns away, saying that she wants to beat him at the game first. “With great pleasure,” Alexander smiles. They both start giggling again when suddenly a door opens in the background, Frederick walking in. He stops at the sight and Alexander loudly proclaims “Thank goodness, you’re here my friend! Help me out, or the queen might get me into a predicament.” while approaching the king, Luise’s eyes following the Russian. Frederick hesitantly walks closer, a somewhat confused or shocked expression (hard to read tbh, might as well be awe or sexual confusion at this point) and stutters “... I don’t want to disappoint you...” Alexander walks towards Frederick with an intense glare. Cue the political talk about war and Napoleon, both men whispering while doing so btw for absolutely no reason, and intense staring. Like, they stare at each other in the eyes. It’s not normal eye contact, they stare into each others souls the entire time, even when drinking, without stopping (except for one or two times when Frederick got nervous). Luise is walking back and forth in the background, looking at them with great interest.

I have watched this documentary with a handful of people now and most of them said that they thought that scene would lead to a different kind of situation. Like, the adult kind. One of my friends even asked (ironically) what kind of predicament Alex was talking about and I felt the need to explain that he was talking about the game of pool.

Like what even-

#history meme #history post #long post #mod post #I don't even know what to tag this #I'm just ranting #even my mom made jokes about 'adult fun times with three people' #wat

[wahwealth]

Lucky Ghost (1942) | NonStop Comedy Film | Mantan Moreland | F.E. Miller...

Lucky Ghost is a 1942 American movie directed by William Beaudine. The film is a sequel to the 1941 film Mr. Washington Goes to Town. The movie is also known as Lady Luck.   Washington Delaware Jones has never done much for his town, and ultimately he is ordered by a judge to leave permanently. In complying with the court's order he brings his pal and partner Jefferson, and the two guys go on  a journey  to look for a brand-new area to live. Both lack specialist experience and start considering what kind of jobs they could get. Considering that they both agree on the taste of food, they decide to become food tasters. When they come to the very first destination on the road, they pretend to be food inspectoes and start stealing chickens from a farm, but the farmer shoots at them. They come upon a man named Brown, whose car has stopped running, and his close friend Dawson. While Brown's chauffeur goes to find gas, the 4 remaining males begin throwing dice. Washington and Jefferson win all the other 2 have, including the auto, and they are driven by the chauffeur to a nearby country club run by Dr. Brutus Blake. Blake is a trickster, and when he sees both males arrive in their stylish car, he determines to take all they have. Blake arranges a crap game where the result is fixed to his benefit. Given that Blake's companion Blackstone does not approve of his methods,  Blackstone threatens to expose to the visitors what Blake is up to. Cast Mantan Moreland as Washington F.E. Miller as Jefferson Maceo Bruce Sheffield as Dr. Brutus Blake Arthur Ray as Blackstone Florence O'Brien as Hostess Harold Garrison as Brown Jessie Cryer as Dawson Napoleon Whiting as Chauffeur Jess Lee Brooks as Door Man Ida Coffin as Hat Check Girl Nathan Curry as Farmer Millie Monroe as First Waitress Louise Franklin as Second Waitress Lucille Battle as Third Waitress Never Miss An Upload, Join the channel. https://www.youtube.com/@nrpsmovieclassics

#youtube

[themovieblogonline]

Review: Disney Continues The Hot Streak With 'Zootopia'

Synopsis: In a city of anthropomorphic animals, a fugitive con artist fox and a rookie bunny cop must work together to uncover a conspiracy. (Imdb) Over the last couple of years we've been treated to some really good animated movies such as Up, Frozen, Big Hero 6, Inside Out and now with Zootopia. The selling point is already build it--furry animals. What kid, or for that matter adult, wouldn't want to see a movie with cute, furry animals. What makes Zootopia a hit is that these animals are given distinctive personalities and backstories and placed into a visually alluring futuristic-looking animal paradise. Judy Hopps (Ginnifer Goodwin) is a bunny that is an overly ambitious rabbit who wants to make a change, defy the odds, and become the first bunny to be a cop. Good luck. Hopps (fitting cutesy name) finally gets her chance in Zootopia. There just has to be something that gets in the way of her new dream career, and that thing is Nick Wilde (Jason Bateman). Wild (another fitting cutesy name) is a wildly sly fox. Ok, I'll just stop with the puns. Hopps being the determined bunny she is (with an apparent Napoleon complex), gets wind of Wild's hustler business and attempts to bring him to Zootopian justice. A case of a missing otter forces Hopps to enlist Wilde to help her with the search. THE GOOD: Zootopia is a really fun and engaging movie. There is a plethora of animals, all with some human characteristics, yet have the cute appeal. In Zootopia everyone comes together from all walks of animal life. It's the NYC-LA with a touch of Dubai and Siberia. Point being that it's an elaborate magical looking world. When Hopps sets out to move to Zootopia on one of those jet fast electric trains, she passes through all sorts of regions and climates. She goes through a desert, a place resembling Antarctica, a rainforest, and then ends up at the combination of all those places--Zootopia. The characters have a personality that's distinguishable. As mentioned Hopps is a go-getter, eager, perfectionist try-hard. Wilde is the scheming, charismatic, arrogant, and sly. He's also a character you can't fully dislike, he's likable douchy fox. Other characters that make notable appearances are Gazelle (Shakira) the iconic Zootopian Shakira. Chief Bogo (Idres Elba) is the bullish police chief. The best use of character should go to the sloth Flash (Raymond S. Persi) who steals the movie with his lightning--slow checkout at the DMV. Probably the funnies scene of the movie, though previews have given it away. The animals are all size-appropriate which is important to have distinguished. Hopps is tiny compared to all her animal counterparts, yet she looks like a giant when she visits the mouse town. Each animal has a city section for their kind.  THE BAD: This is a hard movie to find negatives on. If I were to nitpick I'd say that it would be the highly predictable relationship outcome between Hopps and Wilde. I mean who doesn't see that coming? The plot has a lot of mystery to it. The search for Mr. Otterton is an elaborate scramble filled with twists and turns, the only reason why this could be a negative is that the smaller kids might not be able to keep up and follow, or be interested in following this clever cat and-mouse chase that Hopps and Wilde are on. OVERALL: There is no denying that Zootopia should be a hit. It has all the elements you'd want in an animated movie. Fun and colorful characters with big personalities and some depth. The visuals are uniquely exhilarating. It's a fantasy world I'd want to visit. I liked the fact that the filmmakers fine tuned all sorts of details like signs that say "Just Zoo It" or "Preyda" instead of Prada. That's a clever touch to a film that enhances the reality of their world, yet provides us with a chuckle. This is the kinda film where the adults might appreciate the nuances and enjoy the movie just as much if not more than the kids. That continues the trend of recent years of having animated movies appealing to adults and kids. Zootopia is funny and timely, you can't go wrong with animals, it's a formula that works, but Disney takes it to another level. As an avid rabbit (I have a pet rabbit named BUNNY) and animal lover, this was an easy sell from the start, but ended up impressing me twice as much. Rating: PG Runtime: 1hr 48min  Release Date: Friday March 4, 2016.  For more movie news follow me on Twitter @JimRko Read the full article