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codmw2019-2022 · 3 months

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Modern Warfare Character Ages [2019 + 22]

Preface: Just wanted to add before getting into this that this is my interpretation of the character ages based on information from the games, confirmed information, research into the military/CIA and collage/university course information. This is by no means meant to be a definite statement about character ages, I'm happy to discuss or change any of the information here within reason.

I would also like to credit @sleepyconfusedpotato and @oleworldblues posts with their own opinions on the character ages. Which helped base my own thoughts and provided some good information that they had found. You can find Sleepy's post here and Blue's here they are really good posts and they both explain their own reasons for how they perceive the main cast of modern warfare's ages.

Farah & Hadir Karim : 30 & 32 [2022]

Both Farah and Hadir's ages have been confirmed by Taylor Kurosaki who is one of the writers from Modern Warfare 2019. This was confirmed when a fan ask him via twitter/X about how old Farah was during the Barkov invasion.

This means in 1999 when Barkov invaded Farah was 7 and Hadir was 9. In 2009 when they escaped they are 17 and 19 respectively and in 2019 they are 27 and 29. Hadir dies in December of 2022 as discovered in the Atomgrad raids at the age of 32.

John Price : 37 [2022]

Using the information provided from his original operator bio we find that "John Price joined the infantry at the age of sixteen and has served the British Army for 18 years." and that "he was ‘Badged’ a member of SAS in 2005, spending the next ten years in the Middle East, the horn of Africa.".

With this Price's age works out to be about 34 years old, but since it only mentions serving the British army. I added 4 years for him to be able to complete basic training which is roughly 18 weeks basic training.* Followed by Special Air Service (SAS) training with is roughly a couple months, but you must serve at least 18 months in the military to be selected**, and finally his training at the Royal Military Academy to become a Lieutenant and then Captain which is 44 weeks with 2-3 weeks of leave.***

So Price would join the British army at 16 in 2001, be badged a member of SAS at 20 in 2005, become Captain at 25 in 2010. In 2019 he would be 34 and finally 37 in 2022, which to me makes the most sense based on other character's ages.

*[army.mod.uk solider training] **[eliteukforces.info SAS] [eliteukforces.info SBS&SAS] ***[army.mod.uk officer training]

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick : 32 [2022]

We can do the same process as we did with Price for Gaz, his operator bio says "Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, enlisted in the British Army in 2008. Within four years, he passed selection for Her Majesty’s elite Special Air Service where he is currently rounding out a decade of service."

Since his bio never mentions what age he joins like with Price and Soap I'm going to assume he finished school and joined the military at 18. So Gaz is 18 in 2008, 29 in 2019 when he meets Price for the first time and 32 in 2022. I am not taking into consideration the archived Activision blog posts, which say he joined in 2014 because of them being archived. I do use it for some other characters but for Gaz it changed the date he joined not just giving extra information.

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish : 26 [2022]

You can blame Activision for why Soap is so young compared to the others. So according to his updated operator bio, "Soap has spent the last seven years carrying out both covert and overt operations around the world." this with the contents of his old operator bio before MW3 "At 16, too young to sign up, but lying about his age, MacTavish enrolled in the Special Air Service…"

Means that Soap would be 23 in 2022, which doesn't make the most sense especially considering he is a Sergeant in 2019 meaning he would be 20 in the MW3 flashback. So I gave him the same treatment as Price and added 3 years, to make up for basic and SAS training. So he would be 16 in 2012 joining the British Army have to wait 18 months to apply for SAS, be roughly 18 when he starts SAS training and finish it at 19 in 2015.*

So making him now 23 in 2019, 26 in 2022 but since he lied about his age TF 141 would think he's 28 during MW2 or 25 during 2019.

*[jobs.army.mod.uk SAS reserve]

Alex Keller : 35 [2022]

Alex is one of the last characters who have dates or years of service in their information. From his Campaign Biography it says he was a part of, "CIA's Special Activities Division," and also has surrendered "his former rank and history of special ops military service with Army Delta, Alex sacrificed traditional contact and association with family to join the SAD. He has spent the last six years living a series of assumed identities to achieve “sensitive” objectives wherever he is needed."

There's also, "Through 2017, Alex’s units played a key role in ensuring definitive victories against emerging terrorist networks." So we know Alex has been working in the military before 2017, now most SAD members are former Delta operators. There's also some reports of SAD members having Master's and law degrees.* So with that we can add roughly 6 years to his age to complete a master's degree in law.**

Now Delta force has some requirements like being over 21 to join and having two and a half years of service remaining, so if Alex joined the US military at 18 after finishing High School and getting his diploma.*** In a couple years he could join Delta Force, so by 26 he would be able to be apart of CIA's SAD. (If studying part time while in Delta Force) Then adding the another six years which is when he is apart of SAD, which is mention in his biography as the last six years. The bio is published late 2019 so Alex would be 32 years old.

So Alex would join the Military at 18 in 2005, would be 32 in 2019 when he loses the lower half of one of his legs and 35 in 2022.

*[CIA SAD] **[coursera.org law school] ***[Delta Force] [US Military Requirements]

Now for the Characters with little infomation

Alejandro & Rodolfo : both 37

We find out they've known each other for 20 years and signed up together. So they are both younger than 38 but older than 30 since Alejandro is a Colonel. Looking at Wikipedia you can/have to join 18 the Mexican military for at least 3 years, this gives them about maybe two years to get to know each other before joining together.

Ghost : 35 [2022]

Honestly just pick an age between Price and Gaz, I personally like the idea of him being the same age as Alex and having them know each other previously. Maybe even before Ghost starts wearing the skull mask.

Laswell & Nikolai : 52 & 45 [2022]

No older that 52 and 45 if we go based on their actors ages, which personally makes the most sense to me. Laswell's Campaign biography mentions her supervising a SAD program in 2008, and her having studied a Master's degree in strategic intelligence analysis and having a BA in International Affairs. This doesn't help much though with figuring out her age.

AN: Hopefully this very long post is some what helpful or at least has some good resources that people can check out, especially fanfic writers or people making their own OCs.

I'm also going to repeat what I put at the top the end here. But what I've written down is not a definitive answer for their ages (minus Farah & Hadir) it's just what I personally think makes the most sense.

Don't let my own opinions/conclusions about their ages get in the way of you having fun with how you view/interpret these characters.

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choochooboss · 5 months

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November Magma "1st Anniversary" results!!

Main event: Anniversary Party!

It's already been a year since I started running these monthly events, would you believe that!! For this special occassion we invited Pokémon characters for a big party in the Battle Subway, and it turned out fantastic!! Check it out!!

There are many cool references to our previous Magma events in these scenes! Can you spot them all? Two of the amazing backgrounds (the train entrance) contributed by @beastkonohaworld and the plushie showcase is by @fishmanfishman3 (on Twitter)! The other half of the event is under the cut!

Mini-event: Zoroark Party!

This lovely forest party venue was made by @wafflecat2!

Mini-event: Chemmet's 1st Birthday Party!

This cute little guy @beastkonohaworld created has appeared in every single doodle session since the very beginning and has been bringing cheer and love for numerous artists and their works!! Likes and comments are always very much appreciated, but it's really something else when someone actually interacts with your art! Chemmet has given so much for us, so now it's his turn to receive all the love!

And finally: November free doodle session results!

So much wonderful art here!! Some folks did something really cool and redrew their earliest Magma pieces here!! To see the improvement so concretely is very exciting and rewarding to see, you've all worked really hard on your art throughout the year!!

I am proud of these results, I'm proud of your hard work, and I'm proud to have been your monthly event host for 13 months straight! It has been quite the personal challenge but it has also been a great pleasure: seeing you all draw, connect, have fun and create amazing things together has very much been worth the effort!! Once again:

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR JOINING MY MAGMA EVENTS!!! I hope to see you all in our next event on December 25-30th!

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reasonsforhope · 4 months

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"The New York City Council voted to ban most uses of solitary confinement in city jails Wednesday [December 20, 2023], passing the measure with enough votes to override a veto from Mayor Eric Adams.

The measure would ban the use of solitary confinement beyond four hours and during certain emergencies. That four hour period would be for "de-escalation" in situations where a detainee has caused someone else physical harm or risks doing so. The resolution would also require the city's jails to allow every person detained to spend at least 14 hours outside of their cells each day.

The bill, which had 38 co-sponsors, was passed 39 to 7. It will now go to the mayor, who can sign the bill or veto it within 30 days. If Mayor Adams vetoes the bill, it will get sent back to the council, which can override the veto with a vote from two-thirds of the members. The 39 votes for the bill today make up 76% of the 51-member council. At a press conference ahead of the vote today [December 20, 2023], Council speaker Adrienne Adams indicated the council would seek [a veto] override if necessary.

For his part, Mayor Adams has signaled he is indeed considering vetoing the bill...

The United Nations has said solitary confinement can amount to torture, and multiple studies suggest its use can have serious consequences on a person's physical and mental health, including an increased risk of PTSD, dying by suicide, and having high blood pressure.

One 2019 study found people who had spent time in solitary confinement in prison were more likely to die in the first year after their release than people who had not spent time in solitary confinement. They were especially likely to die from suicide, homicide and opioid overdose.

Black and Hispanic men have been found to be overrepresented among those placed in solitary confinement – as have gay, lesbian and bisexual people.

The resolution in New York comes amid scrutiny over deaths in the jail complex on Rikers Island. Last month, the federal government joined efforts to wrest control of the facility from the mayor, and give it to an outside authority.

In August 2021, 25-year-old Brandon Rodriguez died while in solitary confinement at Rikers. He had been in pre-trial detention at the jail for less than a week. His mother, Tamara Carter, says his death was ruled a suicide and that he was in a mental health crisis at the time of his confinement.

"I know for Brandon, he should have been put in the infirmary. He should have been seeing a psychiatrist. He should have been being watched," she said.

She says the passage of the bill feels like a form of justice for her.

"Brandon wasn't nothing. He was my son. He was an uncle. A brother. A grandson. And he's very, very missed," she told NPR. "I couldn't save my son. But if I joined this fight, maybe I could save somebody else's son." ...

New York City is not the first U.S. city to limit the use of solitary confinement in its jails, though it is the largest. In 2021, voters in Pennsylvania's Allegheny County, which includes Pittsburgh, passed a measure to restrict solitary confinement except in cases of lockdowns and emergencies. The sheriff in Illinois' Cook County, which includes Chicago, has said the Cook County jail – one of the country's largest – has also stopped using solitary confinement...

Naila Awan, the interim co-director of policy at the New York Civil Liberties Union, says that New York making this change could have larger influence across the country.

"As folks look at what New York has done, other larger jails that are not quite the size of Rikers will be able to say, 'If New York City is able to do this, then we too can implement similar programs here, that it's within our capacity and capabilities," Awan says. "And to the extent that we are able to get this implemented and folks see the success, I think we could see a real shift in the way that individuals are treated behind bars.""

-via NPR, December 20, 2023

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shadowtriovibes · 4 months

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mind if i move in closer?

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Word Count: 2.8k

Rating: PG

Summary: sickeningly sweet christmas fic, loosely a continuation of the potioneer's apprentice (not necessary to have read to read this!)

“Do you want to borrow my scarf?” you ask him, teasingly preening as he glances over his shoulder at your new accessory. “It’s charmed to keep you warm.” Sebastian frowns. “Who sent you that? Ominis?” “No,” you say, throwing one of the scarf’s long ends across your shoulder. “Just this handsome fellow in Hogsmeade who’s grown quite fond of me.”

December 25, 1891

Christmas morning at Hogwarts is a surprisingly quiet affair.

Having spent many of your formative Christmas mornings in a Muggle boarding school before arriving at Hogwarts, you’ve grown accustomed to waking up to the sounds of eager whispers and excited squeals as the handful of holiday holdovers awoke to find a small array of presents laid out for them. Gifts were usually provided by the kindly heads of house who’d remained at the school during the break – many of whom were just as lonely as the children they watched.

A few oranges and sweets here and there, some secondhand books, perhaps a wooden puzzle for them all to share… It was always lovely, even during leaner years.

Of course, Christmas at Hogwarts was spectacular – massive fir trees decorated with floating baubles and shining ribbons lined the corridors, beautiful music drifted down from the Bell Tower, and the annual feast on Christmas Eve teemed with seemingly endless platters of food.

Your first holiday season at Hogwarts hadn’t been lonely at all. With Ranrok still at large and dozens of poacher camps causing trouble throughout the Highlands, many students chose to spend their Christmas at Hogwarts rather than risking the lengthy train ride back to London or hiking out to their family homes in nearby hamlets.

This year, however, there were only two Slytherins who remained in the castle over the winter break: you and Sebastian.

While the two of you had each been quietly pleased to learn that the other would be staying, you’d both been surprised to learn that even Ominis would be departing to spend Christmas with his family, per their demand. Before he left, he’d darkly insisted that he’d bet a fistful of Galleons that he’d be back before New Year’s Day if his brothers had anything to say about it.

While Ominis sulked, Sebastian had been the one to explain to you that the older pure blood families, many of whom shared your house, are especially traditional during the holidays.

Or, as he’d so bluntly put it, “All the posh ones will be traveling somewhere warmer, and even the snooty half-bloods don’t want to leave their little sprogs here with all the orphans and the impoverished.”

“That’s lovely,” you grumbled.

He’d merely shrugged and smirked, “At least we’ll have the run of the place.”

Christmas Eve dinner, at least, had been fairly lively thanks to a handful of younger Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors who delighted in joining hands and pulling open wizard crackers. Sebastian had insisted you keep the wizard’s chess set he’d received, as yours had contained a live turtle dove that had promptly flown off to roost in the rafters.

(Professor Black, who had also stayed over the holidays, declined Professor Weasley’s invitation to join the holdovers in the Great Hall, which Sebastian insists was the best gift he could have possibly received.)

The pair of you spent the rest of the evening in the common room, taking turns sipping from a bottle of spiced apple brandy Sebastian had managed to charm out of Sirona’s hands during your last trip to Hogsmeade. By the time you’d wobbled up the stairs to the seventh-year dormitories, you’d been unable to stop giggling while Sebastian walked you to your door.

“Get some rest,” he’d laughed, his cheeks flushed red from the alcohol. “Father Christmas can’t bring you presents if you’re still awake, can he?”

“Father Christmas, hm?” you ask, rolling your eyes. “It’s just the two of us, Sebastian. I think he’ll pass over the Slytherin common room this year.”

Something secret sparkled in his eyes, but he said nothing as you opened the door to your room.

Just as you’d turned around to say goodnight, Sebastian leaned in close and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Happy Christmas,” he mumbled. “See you in the morning.”

Before you could even exhale, he’d quickly made his way up the opposite steps to his room and firmly shut his door behind him. You felt warm all over as you’d changed into your nightwear and climbed into bed – not just from the brandy, you’re sure.

But when you wake up… There’s nothing but silence.

The fire across the room is muted with its usual silencing charms, the popping and cracking of the firewood kept quiet while you slept. There are no roommates eager to open gifts, no smells of Christmas treats like roasted ham or cinnamon pastries cooking in the dormitory kitchens down the hall, which you’d cherished in your old schools.

…But at the foot of your bed, you find a small pile of presents.

You smile to yourself as you sit up and rub your eyes, half expecting the delicate boxes wrapped in bright paper and gently curling ribbons to dissolve away as your vision comes into focus. When they remain, you dare to gingerly pull one into your lap, tracing your fingertips over the crisp paper wrappings.

The first parcel is from Augustus Hill, who’d sent over a fine woolen scarf charmed to remain warm and dry even if it collects falling snowflakes that melt against its magical heat. It’s a deep forest green and is wonderfully soft, and you can’t resist wrapping it across your shoulders as you reach for a second gift.

From your potions master Parry Pippin, you receive a fine set of measuring spoons made of polished copper – much more attractive and precise than the brushed pewter spoons you’d ordered from a supply shop in Diagon Alley.

Professor Weasley had even gifted you a box of stationery supplies that contained a set of quills, a few rolls of parchment, and even a pot of ink. A practical gift to be sure, but thoughtful (and quite generous, you think).

Your favorite gift is from Ominis, who’d sent a box of French candies with magical molten centers from a wizarding confectionary shop in Paris, where his family always visits for the holidays. Inside he’d tucked a note insisting that Sebastian had been sent his own box as well and you were not to let him coax you into sharing yours. You’d fondly rolled your eyes before pinning it to your ever-growing collection of correspondences affixed to the wall beside your bed.

Of course, you can’t resist treating yourself to a piece of candy or two while you change into a simple dressing robe and freshen yourself in the wash basin beside the fireplace. One tastes like cherries and brings a delightful pink flush to your cheeks and lips, and the other tastes like nougat and makes you whistle like a songbird while you pull back your hair into a loose braid.

By the time you wander downstairs, Sebastian is already poking at the common room fireplace, cursing under his breath.

“Happy Christmas, Seb,” you call out, tucking your dressing robe tighter around your waist.

“Happy Christmas,” he mumbles distractedly. “It’s bloody freezing in here.”

You smile to yourself as you take a seat on the cozy settee across from the fireplace. Sebastian has managed to rustle up some extra firewood, undoubtedly from one of the empty boys’ dormitories, to ward off the chill of the common room.

“Do you want to borrow my scarf?” you ask him, teasingly preening as he glances over his shoulder at your new accessory. “It’s charmed to keep you warm.”

Sebastian frowns. “Who sent you that? Ominis?”

“No,” you say, throwing one of the scarf’s long ends across your shoulder. “Just this handsome fellow in Hogsmeade who’s grown quite fond of me.”

To your delight, Sebastian’s frown deepens. “What? Who?”

“Oh, you’ve met him,” you answer, feigning indifference. “He’s rather posh, very stylish, always dressed impeccably… You and I saved him from a troll once, if you recall.”

Sebastian bites the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning when he finally catches wind of your little ruse. “Ah, I see. Just playing one of your little games with me.”

“You make it far too easy,” you tease him, unraveling your scarf and gently draping it across his broad shoulders. “There, that ought to warm you up.”

(Immediately your mind starts to wander off as it conjures up images of how else you might warm up your unfairly handsome friend, but you’re quick to chastise it into silence.)

“You’re too kind, love,” he says, that ever-present smirk still on his lips.

Both of you are silent for several long moments while you hang on to the ends of the scarf, staring up into his warm brown eyes. His gaze dips down to your mouth when you bite your lip, and just as you’re about to ask him if he’d like to walk you to the Great Hall for breakfast, he blurts out, “I have a gift for you.”

“You – a gift?” you ask dumbly. “For me?”

“Of course,” he says softly. “Er, I should warn you that it’s nothing big, but… I wanted you to have it, so…”

He trails off quietly, fidgeting with the sleeve of his robe.

“I have a gift for you too,” you admit. “I left it upstairs. Can I go get it for you?”

“S-sure,” he stutters. “You bought me a gift?”

“Don’t be daft, Sallow,” you tease him. “I made you a gift.”

With that you turn on your heel and march back up the stairs to your dormitory, snagging the delicate potion bottle shaped like a cloud with an indigo ribbon wrapped around its neck. You gingerly turn it over in your hands, watching as the light purple draught inside swirls around languidly.

Downstairs, Sebastian waits for you with a small box tucked behind his back. He looks slightly nervous, you think, so you decide to offer him your gift first.

“Alright,” you say as you take a seat. “First, let me just say that I had Mister Pippin check this to make sure I did everything right, and he said it’s perfectly fine.”

(In fact, Pippin had said you’d done a brilliant job, but you don’t want to oversell yourself before Sebastian has had a chance to try your brew.)

Sebastian eyes the glass bottle as you offer it to him, gently turning it over in his hands.

“You made this?” he asks softly, and then he grins and asks, “Did Weasley help you at all? Because I already learned my lesson with his ‘Fizzing Whizzbeer,’ thank you very much.”

“No,” you insist, biting back a laugh as you remember Sebastian chugging a bottle of Garreth’s experimental brew and being stuck levitating a few feet above the ground for an entire afternoon. “No, I made this just for you.”

“What’s it do?” he asks curiously.

“Well, it’s… it’s a sleeping draught, sort of,” you say softly. “It’s got lavender for comfort, and valerian springs for restful sleep, but I added cinnamon and a bit of shrivelfig to create peaceful dreams.”

Sebastian slowly tips the bottle back and forth, watching the thin liquid dance around the bottle. “Peaceful, hm?”

You’ve known about his nightmares for a while now. He doesn’t like to talk about them often, but he’s admitted that since that day in the Catacombs, he’s hardly slept a full night without being plagued by visions of those damned Inferi, of his uncle’s limp body, of Anne’s face…

The bleary eyes and wan expression he sometimes wears to breakfast after a particularly hard night tell you everything you needed to know, and you’ve spent the last several weeks visiting Hogsmeade after class to work with Mister Pippin to create your own special draught. Not dreamless sleep, but better sleep.

“I just thought… that you deserve to have some good dreams,” you mumble.

The corner of Sebastian’s mouth quirks up. “I do have good dreams, sometimes.”

(You miss the way he glances over at you, raking his gaze down the length of your body. You miss how it lingers where your dressing robe has fallen open a bit, showing off the delicate neckline of the thin chemise you’re wearing underneath.)

“O-oh,” you stammer. “W-well, I suppose now you can… have more.”

You frown disappointedly until Sebastian rests his warm hand on your knee, gently holding the bottle against his chest with his other.

“Thank you,” he says. “Really, I can’t believe you made this just for me. Merlin, it’s… it’s a perfect gift.”

His gaze is heated, and intense, and something about it makes you want to squirm, so instead you breathily ask, “May I have my gift?”

Sebastian holds your gaze as he slowly nods, only letting it break it when he turns to grab the box he’d hidden behind himself. With trembling hands you lift the lid to find a small silver badge inside, reverently tucked inside a nest of tissue paper.

Your hands go still.

“Sebastian, is – is this…?” you whisper.

“My family’s crest,” he murmurs. “You’ve seen it once before, in our fifth year.”

Gently, you lift the crest out of the box and cradle it in your hands. The heat from your skin quickly starts to warm the cool metal, and you trace your fingertips over the “S” hammered into the center of the badge.

“What – how–” you stutter.

“Earlier this year, Anne sent it back to me,” he explains softly, watching with dark eyes as you pour over the symbols that adorn the crest: a cauldron, a flowering tree, a pair of crossed daggers, and a crescent moon.

“Why?” you whisper.

“I’m still not sure,” Sebastian says hollowly. “She just sent the crest, with no letter. But if I had to guess, I think… I think she wanted me to know that she’s safe, but not where she is. Not yet.”

You clutch the crest against your breast. “Oh, Sebastian…”

“It’s okay,” he says, his voice going rough. “It’s – that’s what it’s for, the crest. I gave it to her to keep her safe, and she gave it back to… to tell me that she’s alright. If that’s all she wants me to know, then… then it’s enough.”

You shift closer to him on the couch, the flickering fire casting dancing shadows along the side of his face.

“Why are you giving it to me?” you ask him curiously. “It’s beautiful, Sebastian, but – isn’t it important to you? To your family?”

He swallows nervously. “I don’t… have a family anymore. Not really. Anne is out there somewhere, safe without me, but… you and Ominis, you’re my only family now.”

You let the crest fall to your lap before you throw your arms around Sebastian, burying your face against that warm scarf of yours he’s still wearing. You don’t have the words to say how much this gift means to you, but you think he understands when he wraps his arms around you, skimming one of his large palms up and down the length of your back.

“It kept Anne safe, and – and now it will keep you safe,” he murmurs. “I don’t… I’m not sure you understand how much you mean to me. I need you to be safe.”

“S’bst’n,” you mumble into his shoulder. “Y’re m’vry’th’n.”

He laughs softly and asks, “Sorry, what was that?”

You pull back just enough to press your lips against the shell of his ear, knowing that if you meet his eyes you’ll never have the courage to tell him how you’ve truly felt about him since your fifth year.

“I said, ‘Sebastian, you’re my everything.’”

Then the hand he’d cupped around the back of your head slides down, down, until he nudges his thumb along your jaw to coax you out of your little hiding place. His eyes are so dark, and the soft whine he lets out before he crushes his lips to yours is all the warning you get, but then… then he’s kissing you.

“Seb,” you gasp into his mouth, and then he lightly tugs on the tie around your waist until you shift yourself halfway onto his lap. It feels like hours go by just like that, just the two of you alternating between lazy, curious kisses and frantic, needy surges every time one of you lets slip another heated confession.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”“You taste incredible.”“I don’t ever want to stop doing this.”

Eventually, you let your head rest on Sebastian’s shoulder while he trails soft kisses from the hinge of your jaw down to your shoulder and back. He’s ravenous, he’d told you himself, but it’s not until his stomach growls loudly between your bodies that you even remember that other type of hunger.

“We’ll miss breakfast if we don’t leave soon,” you whine.

“Let’s stay here,” he murmurs against your neck. “We can eat those chocolates you got from Ominis for breakfast.”

“That’s… tempting,” you sigh distractedly, and then you pause.

Leaning back, you quirk a brow and ask, “Sorry, the chocolates I got from Ominis?”

“Well, sure,” Sebastian says smoothly. “He sent me a book on cursebreaking, but I can taste fancy chocolate on your lips, so I assumed…”

“You filthy liar, Sebastian Sallow,” you laugh, throwing your head back. “He warned me you’d try to talk me out of my sweets!”

“To be fair, that’s hardly the only thing I’ll try to talk you out of,” he drawls, sliding his hands down to your hips. “Namely this robe of yours…”

“Scoundrel,” you croon, leaning down for another hungry kiss.

(Ominis’ chocolates make a decent breakfast, even if half of them melt by the fire, ignored entirely while Sebastian makes good on his suggestion regarding your robe.)

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian x mc #sebastian x you #sebastian x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #my fic #HEY GUESS WHO WROTE SOMETHING!!!#THE EVIL [my anxiety] IS DEFEATED [for now]

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majorhortonisonleaveinlondon · 1 month

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If you’re wanting to watch Band of Brothers/The Pacific/Masters of the Air in chronological order with BoB 1st Currahee episode split up in the dates on screen I made a list

(Updated: April 12, 2014 7:58pm pst)

July, 10 1942 Easy Company Trains in Camp Tocca (Band of Brothers Ep. 1 Currahee 2001) August 7, 1942, Allied forces land on Guadalcanal (The Pacific Ep. 1 Guadalcanal/Leckie 2010) September 18, 1942, 7th Marines Land on Guadalcanal (The Pacific Ep. 2 Basilone 2010) December 1942 The 1st Marine Division on Guadalcanal is relieved (The Pacific Ep. 3 Melbourne 2010) *June 23, 1943, Easy Company Trains in Camp Mackall N.C. (Band of Brothers Ep. 1 Currahee) * June 25, 1943, 100th Bomb Group flew its first 8th Air Force combat mission (Master of the Air Ep. 1 2024)

July 16, 1943 the 100th Bomb Group bombed U-Boats in Tronbhdim (Masters of the Air Ep.2 2024) August 17, 1943 the 4th Bomb Wing of the 100th Bomb Group bombed Regenberg (Masters of the Air Ep. 3 2024) *September 6, 1943, Easy Company Boards transport ship in Brooklyn Naval Yard (Band of Brothers Ep. 1 Currahee)* September 16, 1943, William Quinn and Charles Bailey leave Belgium (Masters of the Air Ep.4 2024) September 18, 1943 -*East Company trains in Aldbourne, England (Band of Brothers Ep. 1 Currahee)* -John 'Bucky' Egan returns from leave to join the mission to bomb Munster (Master of the Air Ep.5 2024) October 14, 1943, John ‘Bucky’ Egan interrogated at Dulag Lut, Frankfurt Germany (Masters of the Air Ep. 6 2024) December 26, 1943, 1st Marine Division lands on Cape Gloucester (The Pacific Ep. 4 Gloucester/Pavuvu/Banika 2010) March 7, 1944, Stalag Luft III Sagan, Germany, Germans find the concealed radio Bucky was using to learn news of the War (Master of the Air Ep.7 2024) *June 4, 1944, D-Day Invasion postponed (Band of Brothers Ep. 1 Currahee)* *June 5, 1944 Easy Company Boards air transport planes bound for Normandy (Band of Brothers Ep. 1 Currahee)* June 6, 1944, 00:48 & 01:40 First airborne troops begin to land on Normandy (Band of Brothers Ep. 2 Day of Days 2001)

June, 7 1944 Easy Company Takes Carentan (Band of Brothers 3x10 Carentan)

August 12, 1944, The 332nd Fighter Group attack Radar stations in Southern France (Masters of the Air Ep.8 2024)  September 15, 1944 U.S. Marines landed on Peleliu at 08:32, on September 15, 1944 (the Pacific Part Five: Peleliu Landing)

September 16, 1944 Marines take Peleliu airfield (the Pacific Part Six: Airfield)

September, 17 1944 Operation Market Garden -(Band of Brothers 4x10 Replacements)

October 22/23, 1944, 2100 – 0200 Operation Pegasus (Band of Brothers 5x10 Crossroads)

October, 1944 Battle of Peleliu continues (the Pacific Part Seven: Peleliu Hills)

December 16, 1944 Battle of the Bulge (Band of Brothers 6x10 Bastogne) 

January, 1945 Battle of Foy (Band of Brothers 7x10 The Breaking Point) 

February 14, 1945 David Webb rejoins the 506th in Haguenau (Band of Brothers 8x10 The Last Patrol)

April 5, 1945 506th Finds abandoned Concentration Camp (Band of Brothers 9x10 Why We Fight 2001)

April 1-June 22, 1945 Battle of Okinawa (The Pacific Part Nine: Okinawa) 

May 7, 1945, Germany Surrenders V-E Day - (Master of the Air Ep. 9 2024) - (Band of Brothers 10x10 Points 2001)

August 15 The Empire of Japan surrenders end of the War (The Pacific Part Ten: Home)

#band of brothers #the pacific #masters of the air #HBO War Fandom

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hsllfirescoopsreblogs · 10 days

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˚.✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.✦

「 ✦ joel miller 2 ✦ 」

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all joel miller stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

MASTERLIST ✿ PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTERS ✿ 4/25/24

✿ joel miller 1

✿ @tightjeansjavi

➥ who do you belong to mr. miller?

»You get jealous seeing the women in Jackson throw themselves at Joel. You decide to give him a gentle reminder of who he belongs to.

➥ the feel of coldness only water brings

»you convince Joel to join you for a swim in a lake while on patrol despite his insecurities

✿ @egcdeath

➥ how the cookie crumbles

»when you come back home to austin to help your sister with her bakery, you end up in an arrangement with your high school crush that ends up being far more than you bargained for.

✿ @punkshort

➥ i’ll be home for christmas

»Having just caught your fiancé cheating on you, you decide to come back home from the big city to Austin for the month of December to try to figure out your next step. You had no idea you would be getting more than you bargained for with the handsome single dad who built your parents' house.

➥ i know who you are

»A fall on patrol causes you to lose your long term memory, forgetting the identities of your friends and loved ones. You have to learn all over again how to survive in a post-apocalyptic world, and you learn things about yourself along the way.

✿ @auteurdelabre

➥ something to fight for

»After a disastrous blind date you decide to stay away from the miserable Joel Miller forever. The only problem is your best friend Maria is dating his brother and their construction company has been hired to renovate where you work. In an effort to support your friend, you’re thrust into the unwanted job of babysitting Joel’s young daughter one night. As time goes on you’re not expecting to find a confidant in Joel Miller but when you do, you wonder how you ever survived without him.

✿ @joelscurls

➥ best kept secret

»In an attempt to keep your relationship secret, Joel agrees to a blind date set up by his best friend / your father. You don't take it well.

✿ @alrightieaphroditie

➥ sweet creature

»an anthology of those little moments within your relationship with joel miller.

✿ @undercoverpena

➥ be good, be quiet

»bill tells you both you're sleeping in separate rooms when a thunderstorm doesn't allow you to leave. but joel isn't planning on getting any sleep.

✿ @dancingtotuyo

➥ high infidelity

»Tommy gets himself into more trouble than he can get out of.

✿ @chaotic-iguana

➥ borrowed time

»Reader gets hurt, and Joel doesn’t know how to deal with it. (no-outbreak! au)

✿ @palioom

➥ toolbox

»when joel comes back home from work to pick up the toolbox he forgot, he finds a surprise in the form of you in bed with a vibrator and just cannot tear his eyes away from you.

✿ @fooled-around-and-fell

➥ pretty like this

»you found a dress in a cabin during patrol and brought it back home. joel doesn't know why you're suddenly acting odd around him, then he sees you wearing the dress.. and fuck you look beautiful.

✿ @strang3lov3

➥ brain scramblies pt2

»Bubbly and sweet Reader slips and falls at Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party, hitting her head hard on the floor. Tommy tasks Joel, her grumpy patrol partner, with getting her home safe. In her dazed state, she spills to Joel how she really feels about him! Basically two idiots dancing around their feelings for each other.

✿ @endlessthxxghts

➥ dr. miller

➥ best i ever had

»Someone tries to hit on you on your night out with Joel, insulting your man in the process, and oh you don't like that. You blow off some steam in more ways than one.

✿ @penvisions

➥ by the grit of sandpaper

»Joel Miller is a gruff as they come, the world having changed him for the worst. But settling in Jackson with his brother changed him for the better. He's known around town as someone to help, whether it be with home repairs, construction, and hand carved trinkets. An offhand comment from you inspires him to branch out and create helpful kitchen wares. And it seems everyone has been gifted one from him, except for you. It makes you rethink the casual friendship you had developed with the man that had just begun to expand beyond patrols.

✿ @yeollie-plz

➥ light the flame pt2

»Your mom moves the two of you back to Texas and attempts to reignite an old flame. What will happen when she learns his candle now burns for you?

✿ @jobean12-blog

➥ slow ride

»Joel picks you up (sorta rescues you) and your attraction to him is instant even with the state of the world, but does he feel the same?

✿ @alt-vera

➥ text me texas

»joel miller worries that the girl he’s been seeing is holding out on him on purpose. she definitely isn’t.

✿ @gutsby

➥ die hard

»Joel tries Viagra for the very first time.

✿ @freelancearsonist

➥ the only heaven i’ll be sent to

»Joel finds a familiar face while out on a smuggling run.

✿ @nexusnyx

➥ keep close

» It takes you six months to break. You thought you'd last longer. Tried convincing yourself that everything in your head was because he saved you, not because of real attraction. One night, Joel proves that to be wrong.

✿ @mothandpidgeon

➥ stiff

»As Joel's getting older, his body isn't working the way it used to. Luckily, you're happy to help him out.

✿ @storiesforallfandoms

➥ too sweet

»in which his friend's daughter comes on to him and he tries to convince her that they can't be together...tries

✿ @theidiotwhowritesthings

➥ request

✿ @wheresarizona

➥ but i would die for you in a secret

»The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated, and you’re not entirely sure what to even call it. There’s the fact no one can know, so his kid doesn’t find out, and you’re pretty sure he’s ashamed of your age difference—he’s not your boyfriend, but you only fuck each other; this thing started months ago, and Joel does not like it when men give you attention, because he wants you all to himself. But again, he’s not your sexy, older boyfriend.

✿ @alwaysmicado

➥ you wanted this

✿ @hr43s

➥ government hooker

»Joel miller, your dad’s best friend is a security guard for celebrities. He takes you to one of his jobs as part of a university homework you need to do, but he let his guard down.

✿ @schnarfer

➥ the kindness of strangers

»Let's fall madly in love with neighbour!Joel

✿ @headkiss

➥ request

✿ @ozarkthedog

➥ a glimpse of heaven

»joel secretly watches you shower.

✿ @bits-and-babs

➥ play boy

»ellie steals one of bills magazines and you and joel decide to see what the fuss is about.

✿ @oliviajdjarin

➥ stay down

»Joel thought he had grown accustomed to fear until he finds you covered in blood

hopefully all links work, let me know if not <3

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller series #joel miller oneshot #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou x reader #the last of us #joel miller fic recs #joel miller masterlist

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dirtyvulture · 2 months

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Dear Diary

*Set in the Darkest Knight AU*

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Mutant!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 4459

Summary: Natasha embraces her new life as an X-Men.

AN: I'm back with a little one shot. :) Enjoy!

December 6, 2023

Dear Diary,

Is that an appropriate way to start one of these? I’ve never kept a diary or a journal before. But Marie gave me this cute little notebook and said writing stuff down helps clear her mind, so I don’t think there’s any harm in giving it a shot. They would never let us have something like this in the Red Room. Too much evidence lying around for someone to stumble upon. Should I put a lock on this? Y/N wouldn’t snoop around to read this, would she? Well, I guess if she is–leave my diary alone, you big dummy!

The professor said the Red Room soldiers and Widows are coming tomorrow. This is all my fault. I’ve put these good people and innocent children in danger. Earlier, we went to help the kids pack their bags and board the buses. I’m not sure if Y/N has any kids of her own (or ever did at all), but I can tell she really cares about them. Although she was not happy with some of the excessive luggage some of them were bringing. No one would tell me where they’re sending the kids, but I overheard Ororo mention something about a private resort they had to buy out.

I still don’t quite understand why these people are willing to sacrifice so much for me. I’m basically a stranger to them. I have nothing to give them in return if they ask. Maybe they’ll finally throw me out when they realize how worthless I am. That’s what I really deserve. Not these warm clothes, the home-cooked meals, and this roof over my head. And I definitely don’t deserve the kindness and care Y/N has shown me. I really like her, but I’m afraid she’ll leave me when she realizes how boring and inexperienced I am.

Oh, I think she’s coming out of the shower now. I’ll continue this later.

Love,

Nat

***********************************************************************

December 15, 2023

Dear Diary,

It’s weird how life goes back to normal so fast here. The Red Room soldiers and Widows were here not even a week ago, tearing down doors and blasting out windows, and everything is already repaired and the students are back at it like nothing happened.

A lot of them are excited to go back to their homes and families for the holiday. But a lot of them will also be staying at the mansion, because their families won’t accept them or they just don’t have any home to go back to. The professor asked Y/N to help plan some holiday games so the kids staying don’t get too bored or lonely. She’s acting like it’s the dumbest assignment he’s ever given her, but I’ve seen her spending all her free time ordering presents and decorations (with the professor’s credit card, of course), so I know she takes it very seriously and the kids are going to love whatever she comes up with.

I’m really glad I get to spend Christmas here. It’s been a long time since I’ve actually been able to celebrate it with people I love. I feel so welcomed here and no one looks at me like I’m any different, when I come from a past where there’s red all over my ledger. Sometimes I’m surprised anyone even lets me be around these kids alone, but some of them have powers that even make Y/N nervous, and I think they know they can trust me.

It’ll take some more time before I can be fully comfortable here, but it’s really starting to grow on me and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Love,

Nat

***********************************************************************

December 25, 2023

Natasha wakes up alone. She looks around the bedroom, in case you might be on the floor doing push-ups or in the bathroom showering, but the room is completely empty. Her heartbeat picks up as she jumps out of bed, afraid that you’ve left her, when she notices a note on the desk.

Downstairs making breakfast. Come join when you’re up - Y/N

She relaxes immediately, touched how you made sure to let her know in advance where you would be. She quickly washes up and puts on a robe, then hurries downstairs to a chaotic mess of torn gift wrapping, screaming children, and flashing new toys. She steps into the kitchen, where you are wearing a flowered apron and are threatening Marie with a spatula.

“Stop, those aren’t ready–Marie!” You swat at her hands as she swipes for a pancake.

“Merry Christmas, Miss Nat!” Marie says, moving your attention away from her as your girlfriend appears.

“Merry Christmas, Marie.” Natasha gives the girl a hug, not missing the folded pancake in her hand.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” you say next, waiting for her to come over. “I made a special plate for you. It’s over here so the kids don’t get into it.” You point to a foil-covered plate off to the side of the stove. Natasha goes to investigate, peeling back the foil to find the plate fully-loaded with two different types of pancakes, one next to a little container of jam and honey, and the other still steaming and garnished with flecks of green onion. There’s even a bowl of grainy buckwheat porridge. Her heart soars at the sight of her favorite native breakfast. With a delighted squeal, she throws herself into your arms.

“Thankyou thankyou thankyou,” she choruses, squeezing you tightly as you rub her back.

“You’re welcome, darling.”

At this point, you shoo everyone out of the kitchen to finish the preparations. Natasha joins Marie in the dining hall, helping set up the plates and silverware. She watches with great curiosity as Kitty tries getting Peter to step under the mistletoe she hung above the doorway, and then is distracted when Jean and Scott come down for breakfast.

“Y/N cooks Christmas breakfast for us every year,” Jean explains to Natasha. “The kids always look forward to it.”

“Hey, Y/N!” Scott yells into the kitchen. “Keep the walnuts away from my food, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Natasha hears you dismissively respond.

“Scott’s allergic,” Jean whispers to her. “Now there’s no proof how, but he ended up with a plateful of them last year and I almost had to take him to the hospital. Needless to say, it was an eventful Christmas.”

Natasha giggles to herself, already having a feeling she knows exactly how those walnuts got on Scott’s plate.

Everyone finds a seat at the table, the empty one next to Natasha reserved for you. You finally emerge from the kitchen, no longer in the flowered apron but one of your classic checkerboard flannels. You’re carrying an impressive tower of pancakes in one hand and a pan filled half and half with bacon and sausage in the other. The students break out in appreciation and applause as Bobby scoots aside some dishes to make room for the last trays.

“Don’t take more than you can finish,” you remind the kids, going around the table to sit next to Natasha and presenting her with her special plate. “And uh, Merry Christmas, happy holidays, and all that other stuff.” You raise your apple cider in a toast and everyone follows your lead.

“Thanks for breakfast, Y/N,” Ororo says, clinking her glass to yours. The students erupt with more thanks before they start reaching for the food, passing around the mountainous plate of pancakes, scooping whole fried eggs onto each other’s plates.

“Thanks again, babe,” Natasha says, putting her hand on your thigh as she leans over to kiss you on the cheek.

“You should try it first before thanking me,” you tease, still not used to all the praise. You were just trying to be a good partner, and it was somewhat of a Christmas tradition for you to cook breakfast for all the students who stayed at the mansion over break. You didn’t mind it at all, in fact you really did enjoy spending time in the kitchen and it made you feel good to take care of others.

Natasha leaves her hand on your knee as she eats, and eventually you put your hand on top of hers comfortingly. Neither of you engage much in conversation as you eat and listen, happy with the company. Once all of the food has been finished, Ororo rounds up the students to help clean everything before they can continue opening presents.

Kitty gets you a Johnny Cash vinyl record. Marie and Bobby got you a variety pack of exotic flavors of jerky, including alligator, ostrich, and buffalo. Storm gives you and Natasha tickets to a weekend getaway at a Canadian resort. Jean and Scott also throw in a joint gift of a new set of winter bedsheets. You are very thankful for the presents and pile them neatly by your feet, when Natasha pulls out a box and puts it on your lap. Inside is a familiar-looking flannel shirt.

“It’s a brand new one,” Natasha says. “To replace all the ones I steal from your closet,” Natasha says.

“Thanks,” you say, putting your arm around her to pull her closer so you can kiss her cheek. “This one is from me.” You hand her a very small box.

Natasha opens it delicately and gasps when she sees what you’ve given her. It’s a wooden ring, carved a little roughly around the edges with little turquoise-colored gems pressed into the outside.

“Did you make this?” Natasha asks, running her finger over the gems.

“Uh, yeah.” You’re suddenly nervous that she doesn’t like it. Woodworking was not your finest hobby, despite your decades to fine-tune the skill, but you preferred to build vast structures and furniture. Tiny little pieces of jewelry were extremely difficult to handle, but hopefully it was worth the numerous cuts and splinters you gave yourself.

Natasha slips it on her right ring finger–a perfect fit. Maybe you needed to give yourself more credit for your handiwork.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, holding her hand up to admire the ring. “I love it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Natasha snuggles closer to you and rests her head on your shoulder while you sit back and watch everyone else finish opening their gifts.

***********************************************************************

The rest of the day is busy but productive. Natasha has never felt happier watching the students competitively decorate gingerbread houses, then go outside and play in the snow. You don’t join in anymore, preferring to watch from the side. You’re already wearing the flannel Natasha got for you and Natasha gazes at you adoringly from afar. Despite the differences the two of you had from time to time, she hasn’t loved another person the way she loves you. But sometimes she worries that you don’t feel the same way.

You still don’t talk very much, hardly opening up about your past the way Natasha has spilled about hers. Although you seem mostly content at the mansion, Natasha can tell you’re still adjusting to being around so many people. The life of solitude in the cabin in the woods had clearly been more your style, and she feels guilty for dragging you away from that. But as much as she would love to spend all day with you cozied up in a cabin you built with your own hands, it wasn’t a realistic option. Not with all the threats and dangers that could come her way.

Which is why it was so important to Natasha that the Red Room be dealt with, as soon as possible.

She didn’t like how dismissive you got every time she brought it up, but she understood why. You had found your domestic bliss and didn’t want to let it go anytime soon. She wasn’t going to blame you. But she wished you would actually listen to her instead of shutting her down all the time. She would figure out how to broach the topic with you eventually, but today was not that day.

After a quiet dinner, which is basically just warmed up leftovers from breakfast, Natasha finds you sitting by yourself on the couch in front of a dying fire. Most of the students had retired to their rooms, exhausted by the day’s festivities. Natasha sits next to you, leaning her shoulder against yours.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hi.” You offer her your hand and she clasps onto it, threading her fingers with yours. You smile when you see the wooden ring on her finger. It looks perfect on her. “Did you have fun today?” you ask.

“It was the best Christmas I ever had,” she replies. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course.”

Natasha is tired, but there’s still one more thing she wants to do with you. She rests her hand on your thigh, subtly at first, then she slowly starts to stroke your leg, her fingers barely perceptible through your jeans. You ignore her and her movements become bolder, creeping towards the inside of your thigh now and squeezing it lightly.

“Can I help you with something?” you finally ask. Natasha has always been a little more shy when it comes to asking for intimacy with you. But you were patient with her and never pressured her, and that encouraged her to have the confidence to ask if you were in the mood–even if she didn’t always do it with words.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” she says, leaning forward until her lips almost touch yours. “I still have one more present to give you.”

“Oh, do you now?” you ask, trying to kiss her but she pulls away.

“You have to come upstairs,” she repeats, offering you her hand as she stands up.

“All right, all right.” Your knees creak as you push off the couch, taking Natasha’s hand and following her upstairs. You can hear her heartbeat pounding with excitement or maybe that’s…yours? You hope everyone else has gone to sleep by now, otherwise they wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon.

Back in the privacy of the bedroom, you let Natasha lead you to the bed and you sit down on the edge with her climbing onto your lap.

“Is this okay?” she asks, her hands locking around the back of your neck.

“Of course,” you whisper, leaning in until your foreheads touch. Your arms circle her waist to hold her securely in place. Her breath fans over your face and her heartbeat pumps at an almost alarmingly quick rate.

“I want you,” she says, rocking her hips against your thighs. “I want you to take me.”

“How do you want me?” you ask, before she presses her lips roughly to yours, her fingers digging into your neck. Her arousal spikes and so does yours. You open your mouth when she licks your lips to deepen the kiss. She tastes like vanilla and cookies and you instinctively pull her closer to you, wanting to devour her until the morning.

Natasha grabs the collar of your flannel, pulling apart the top buttons and running her hands down your chest and abs. Your skin burns where she touches you and you nip lightly on her bottom lip when she rests her hands on the buckle of your belt.

“I want to taste you,” you pant, hoping your request doesn’t come across as too greedy. Natasha has to fight down her thrill of excitement at your suggestion, wondering how you knew exactly what she wanted. She doesn’t even take the time to agree with you, instead hurriedly stripping off her clothes to show you how eager she is. You take off the flannel, setting it aside with reverence, then removing your undershirt and jeans. Natasha tackles you back on the bed, your thigh fitting between her legs and you feel the heat from her center rubbing against you.

“You’re so wet for me,” you say, holding her hips again and guiding her up until she’s hovering over your chest. “My good girl.”

“Your good girl,” Natasha reiterates, grabbing onto the headboard for support before she positions herself over your face. The scent of her arousal is almost overwhelming to you, and you waste no time bringing your arms over her thighs to pull her down. Natasha whines when your mouth makes contact with her slick center, your tongue slipping into her and coating with her juices.

Natasha moans, grinding down so you can enter her deeper. Your arms tighten to prevent her from moving too much; you want to do things at your own pace. Her taste is so intoxicating and addictive, you could lie here forever eating her out. Natasha grips the headboard tighter, struggling to rock against your face for more friction, but you won’t let her. She whines in desperation, the noises music to your ears. Your tongue dips into her again before tracing up to her clit, flicking against it and Natasha grinds down harder on your chin, gasping and moaning.

“Y/N,” she begs. “Y/N, please.”

You stop, pulling away from her far enough to say, “What do you want, baby?”

“I want you,” she repeats, her voice breaking. “I need you.”

“I know, baby. I got you.” As much as you love teasing her, this is not the time. You knew Natasha could sometimes be insecure about your relationship with her. But you had no regrets in choosing to be with her and loved her so much. You would never miss an opportunity to show her, either.

You loosen your arms around her so she has some freedom to move and Natasha quickly adjusts herself until she’s comfortable. When she settles back down on your face again, you find her clit and wrap your lips around it, rewarded with a long, drawn-out moan. Natasha rolls her hips to help you find a good rhythm. You feel her thighs tremble and more of her slick spills onto your tongue.

“Oh, god. Oh fuck, Y/N,” she whimpers, the headboard flexing dangerously from how hard she’s holding onto it.

Your stomach practically burns from how aroused you are with Natasha riding your face, and you’re hoping she’ll help you relieve some of the tension once you make her finish. You’ve held out as long as you could, and you can tell Natasha is ready to fall over the edge. Your tongue rests on her clit again, swiping upwards in a straight line, then dragging down at a diagonal angle, then going back up.

Your tongue moves in an inverted V next, drawing an imaginary bar between them.

You lick down her clit once more, then swipe perpendicular.

Natasha is panting and shaking, completely unaware that you’re trying to spell her name on her with your tongue. One of her hands has left the headboard and is holding tightly onto your hair in an attempt to guide you, but your own plan is already in action.

She doesn’t make it the next A, her back arching and thighs clamping around your head as she finally cums. You don’t let a drop of it go to waste, lapping at her sensitive folds until she’s whimpering and trying to pull your head away. Natasha lifts herself off your face with a contented sigh, turning herself away from the headboard now, but you’re not quite done with her yet.

You pull her back down on your face and she falls forward with her hands on your chest.

“Did I say you could go anywhere?” you grumble playfully.

“Y/N,” Natasha giggles.

“Can I have one more, darling?” you ask, and she responds by sitting back on your face. But now Natasha is the one with other ideas, as she eyes the veins on your flexing abdomen that disappear behind the band of your underwear. You feel her hands run across your stomach and your breath hitches when she tugs down your underwear.

“Nat, what are you–oh, shit.” Now it’s your turn to gasp and moan when Natasha leans over and places her mouth on your dripping center. You completely lose focus of what you were doing, instinctively spreading your legs open further to give her better access. “Fuck baby, oh fuck,” you whine, your head dropping back on the pillow.

“Did I say you could stop?” Natasha teases, turning your own words back against you. It takes a monumental effort, but you calm yourself enough to put your mouth to work again. Natasha almost soaks herself when she realizes how turned on you’ve gotten just from eating her out. Now she has only one mission in mind: make you cum before she does a second time. But you’re refusing to make it easy for her, and Natasha is already dangerously close despite having finished mere minutes ago. She knows she has to hurry, but judging from the tremble in your thighs, you’re closer than you’re letting on.

Natasha’s tongue circles your clit and she can feel you panting against her, your own efforts faltering in their rhythm. She pushes back against your face to remind you of what you promised her. Your fingers dig into the curve of her ass and you feel her breasts rubbing against your abs. Her mouth is so hot and wet and perfect on you, making you lose your breath every time her tongue touches you.

“Fuck, Nat,” you whimper, feeling like you’re losing control of yourself. You’re not even sure if what you’re doing to her anymore is working because all you can think about is the throbbing in your lower stomach that begs to be released. Your back arches off the bed when her tongue lashes at your clit and she struggles and fails to push down on your thighs to keep you grounded. “Nat, I can’t,” you warn, a little embarrassed at how fast you’re ready to release.

“It’s okay,” you hear Natasha say, “Cum for me, baby.”

White floods your vision and all the muscles in your body tighten as you spill into her mouth, a moan catching in your throat. Your head spins in a rush of endorphins and you’re practically convulsing underneath Natasha when you finally come down from your high. She purrs in delight at her success, gently squeezing at your thighs. And as much as you want to flip her around and press her head against your chest, you still do owe her.

Natasha’s second orgasm is a little more subdued but just as pleasurable. She bites the inside of your thigh to quiet the noise of her moan and you almost cum again. But once she finds the strength to move, Natasha crawls back up to you, nuzzling the side of your head and kissing you. Normally, you could go several rounds without even stopping for a break, but you’re unusually exhausted today. Maybe it was from waking up at four o’clock to work on breakfast for everyone or making sure that the Christmas activities throughout the day ran smoothly.

Natasha rests her head on your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat and you rub her shoulder, tilting your head down to breathe in the faded scent of her shampoo.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” she whispers.

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

***********************************************************************

January 2, 2024

Dear Diary,

Professor Xavier called me personally to his office today. I was really nervous that I was in trouble for something. I’m still not sure how I feel about his mind-reading thing. I try to keep my thoughts in check when he’s around, but I think that makes it seem like I’m hiding something. But other than that, he’s only ever been polite and respectful to me, and I can tell Y/N really looks up to him as a mentor and father figure.

He told me he has a lead on where the Red Room could be and asked if I still want to pursue them. Of course I do, but I know Y/N isn’t happy about it. I thought she would understand more. I know she’s got her own past that she hasn’t told me the entirety of yet (not that she’s required to), but she’s told a few stories so I know her situation is similar enough to mine. I wish she was more supportive instead of trying to talk me out of it, but I know she’s worried too. She doesn’t want me rushing back into danger and I totally get that. But I just…I can’t stay here and be cared for and protected and loved when there are so many of my sisters still being held against their will and forced into doing horrible things.

Luckily, the professor seems more understanding of things. But I don’t want him or anyone else here risking their lives for me. If I have to go alone, I will. I don’t know if I can do it alone, though. I’m sure Y/N will insist on tagging along no matter what. I just hope she doesn’t get too grumpy about the whole thing.

Love,

Nat

***********************************************************************

January 4, 2024

Dear Diary,

I still haven’t told Y/N what the professor told me 2 days ago (assuming she hasn’t already gone through my diary and read about it here). I tried to mention it after dinner, but I could tell as soon as I let the “R” word slip she was not paying attention to the conversation anymore. I don’t want my frustration to build up, so I’ll probably have to be straightforward about it, which isn’t easy.

I know the professor can hear all of my thoughts, so I wonder if he’s going to get tired of them and just talk to Y/N himself. But probably not. This is my problem to handle. I’ll find the courage somehow to deal with it.

I just hope it doesn’t cause Y/N to look down on me for this. I’m already nervous that I’m constantly annoying her, and if she gets fed up enough and kicks me out I will literally have nowhere to go and at that point, I’d welcome back the Red Room with open arms. That probably seems a little dramatic, but I really don’t want to risk losing the best person that ever came into my life. I have Y/N to thank for everything I have here, and I think most people in my position would call me crazy for trying to make any changes to my situation.

But I’m not like most people. And I have to do what I think is right, even if others try to stop me.

I’ll bring it up to Y/N later again. Maybe if I catch her in a good mood she’ll be more receptive to the idea. Wishing luck to my future self.

Love,

Nat

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

AN: Please leave likes, comments, and reblog! Follow for more content. 🥰

Multipart sequel in the works!

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader

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allophonicmess · 5 months

Text

Time and Time again - Part 2

14th Doctor x reader / mentioned 15th x reader

Masterlist

Full version cross-posted on Ao3

The Doctor is struggling after the Bi-regeneration. It only seems logical for you to move on with the next version of him. So why do you stay?

Established relationship

Timelord!wife reader

Mostly jealous 14th! Doctor and angst but balanced out with fluff.

The 25 of December 2023, Christmas day

"Okay, but I have to ask. Why two wedding bands?" Rose leaned over to you, eyes moving between your wedding rings and your face. On your left ring finger was a thin, twisted band adorned with a clear gem. On the right a wider band decorated in fine Gallifreyan symbols.

"It's an old tradition." You chuckled. "Two rings-"

"For two hearts?" She finished for you, smiling softly at the idea of the intricate gesture.

"Yep, exactly." You laughed softly, squeezing her hand under the table. The Doctor sat opposite you, next to Donna and Shaun. The table was set beautifully with Christmas decorations, lights and candles. The new Doctor had been right about the roast, complementing the Noble-Temple household for their magnificent cooking.

"Aww, that's so sweet!" Rose marvelled, gasping at Doctor. He blushed softly, suddenly very interested in the bits of carrots on his plate.

"One for each heart? I thought that whole ring to the heart idea is an American thing?" Shaun wondered, looking between you two and the others at the table.

"Well, actually-"The Doctor started, setting his cutlery in an attempt to create a rhetorical pause. You chuckled at his antics. You loved his storytelling. His expressiveness and capturing performance. You leaned back a little, watching the family around you, focusing on him with curious expressions.

"Many human cultural practices are adopted from alien contact." He casually crossed his arms, basking in the attention like a cat in warm sunlight. "Weddings themselves. Imported from the Bisianth. Inquisitive creatures, birdlike, like um-"

He went on with his tale, pretending to think about the proper expression.

"Like ostriches." You offered, leaning your elbow on the table to cover your grin. He loved it even more when you joined in. A team effort at wowing the company.

"Yes! Ostriches! Thank you, love." He laughed.

Rose smirked at you suggestively. She had grown close to you and your partner over the last few weeks. She loved each and every story about your adventures, fascinated by what is out there. She felt connected to you in a way that only the Doctor was. She was so much wiser and grown than her age allowed for.

"And what about them? You were explaining about the rings," Sylvia interjected. She was quick to notice the Doctor drifting off from his original story.

"Hm? Oh well, they bond for life. Ostriches, I mean. And Bisianth-"

He was lost in thought for a moment. Eyebrows furrowed, and gaze focused on the light of one of the candles. He remained silent for another moment. The humans at the table became slightly concerned at his sudden stop and change in demeanour.

He blinked a few times, shaking his head slightly. He seemed to have lost the plot, so you stepped in.

"They bond for life as do timelords. But our culture does so at a deeper level since death is a more, let's say, abstract concept." You explained simply, sipping from your glass and gently smiling at the others.

"And on that note, we'll ask you to excuse us. Someone here is still woozy from their Bi-regeneration and needs to sleep." You explained, finishing your drink and smiling at Donna.

"I thought timelords don't sleep…" Donna explained, looking at you and the Doctor quizzingly.

"I don't need sleep" The Doctor replied with a scoff. "Just a little bit for regeneration sickness, but I'm fine, so-"

He stopped talking when he saw your and Donna's doubtful expressions.

Rose spoke up after a moment of awkward silence, "Looks like that's something you can work on." she joked, getting up to help the others gather the plates and cutlery. You gave a soft laugh, sharing a knowing look until she rounded the corner to the kitchen. You also got up, pushing your chair to the table and walking around to meet the Doctor.

"As I said, Dinner was fantastic. Thank you so much, Donna, all of you." You called a little louder to make sure that all of them heard.

They had taken you in without any questions. You instantly became family and integrated with them as if it had been like this from the beginning. You were happy to have helped them when UNIT came in to fix the Noble-Temple's house after what happened with the Meep. The house had to be cleared and empty for repairs, so the whole family moved in with you. They spend 2 weeks living with you in the Tardis. It was a delight, the fascination they felt, and it finally gave you a chance to organize and relocate the rooms. In the end, you finally had a functioning kitchen, a proper bedroom for you and enough set guestrooms for a full-on family trip. The Doctor also enjoyed the new proper setup, even though he tried not to show it.

"Of course, darling. "Donna smiled, watching happily as you sneaked an arm around the Doctor's waist. His reaction was instantaneous, leaning into you and placing his arm around you, smoothing his thumb over your arm. You were good for him. Always have been. But your relatively stationary position on earth only allowed for a few visits and meetings between you and the Doctor. You had travelled with him every once and again but mainly took care of earth, protecting it when he was gone.

"Now get this one to bed. He's losing focus again, and I'm not going to let him sleep on the couch again. Not after all that complaining last time." She replied, pretending to sound strict and fed up. The Doctor had tried to sit through a binge-watching session with Rose, trying to build that proper Uncle-Niece relationship early on. But even a timelord has no chance against the hyperfocus and messed up sleep schedule of a 15-year-old. So he spent the night sleeping on the couch in an almost impossible position and proceeded to complain about his back for the next week.

"Eh, I'm fine. And I didn't complain." He scoffed, "But I won't fight with this one here." He pecked a kiss on your head, pulling you into his side.

"So, have a good night!" He called into the house, smiling softly at the "thank-you!"' s and "you-too!"' s that came from the kitchen and hallway.

He took in the moment, that easy joy he felt. He was surprised at how happy these small things made him. Dinner with the family, a game of cards, gardening, or simply watching the others with a cuppa in hand. It felt good, a joy that didn't need a grand entrance or having to save a civilization. Just life.

He took your hand and gently led you out towards the terrace, the garden, and into the blue box you called home. He opened the door for you, letting you inside while smiling at you with soft admiration. You thanked him, listening to his soft-soled steps as he followed you inside. You threw your jacket over one of the railings and approached the upper level.

But you paused at the door when you noticed he didn't follow.

"Are you coming?" You leaned onto the upper railing, watching him flip a few switches at the controls and studying one of the screens intensely. It took him a moment to answer, looking up at you. "Yeah, I'll be there in a second. Get settled already."

His focus shifted back towards the controls. He even took out his glasses, all attention on the screen.

You smiled at him and made your way towards the bedroom. You changed into your nightwear, brushed your teeth and settled under the soft duvet. With closed eyes, you focused on the steady hum of the Tardis. It was like breathing, a soft whining that sounded like home to you.

Soft rustling and a gentle tug on the duvet made you open your eyes again. The Doctor slipped under the covers next to you. He laid on his back and immediately lifted his arm to let you rest your head on his chest. He let out a long sigh, lowering his arm as your head came down over his right heart and gently running his fingers over your back and arm. You closed your eyes, letting out a sigh of your own and relaxing as the sound of his heartbeats drew you in. You hummed softly, just enjoying the moment and running your hand over the cotton of his shirt. Your hand consistently over his other heart.

"Why did you stay?" He whispered, almost as if too afraid to ask you out loud. Ever since that kiss with the new version, he had been thinking about it. It only seemed logical for you to keep going and settling in with the new Doctor. Especially since that one seemed to do so much better than he did.

You slowly lifted your head and turned to look at him properly. The lines on his face seemed more prominent in the soft orange light of the Tardis night setting.

"Why wouldn't I stay?" you ask, your hand gently smoothed through his hair. You felt him relax under you. Melt into your touch like candle wax.

He remained silent, eyes closed and quietly enjoying your touch. Then he breathed in deeply, licking his lower lip before focusing on your eyes with a stern look.

"He is better than me. In so many ways." He gently shook his head. "A younger body, the charisma, that smile. Oh, that damned grin. How dare he-"He gritted his teeth, his eyes moving away from you to focus on some random spot in the room. Anywhere, really, he regretted starting the conversation. He knew it was silly, but he needed to know.

"And he seems to be so much better. Lighter…”

"Healed." You interjected. Holding his chin to bring his attention back to you. You knew that you two would have this talk. You always had these types of discussions after he met other versions of himself. Especially the younger ones. Being with 12 had been a real challenge in that sense.

"He is healed. Because he stopped running." You smooth over the lines on his forehead. Caused by so much thinking and worrying.

"He stopped and faced his past. And that hurts, but it's the only way to keep going." You kissed his eyebrow that dared to lower in confusion to your statement.

"He stopped and reflected, spending his time with life's little joys. And over time, it helped him to become better. To lose that baggage." You saw the tears starting to well up in his eyes. He tried to look away again, but you kept your eyes on him.

"It's okay, Doctor. Let it out. You don't have to keep your emotions shut away." You encouraged him softly, feeling your own tears welling. It felt like a relief to feel his tears soak into your shirt. It was a first step.

He sat up slightly, pulling into a tight embrace and burying his face in your neck. You just held him, both of you letting your tears flow.

After a moment, you laugh softly, "See, this is what made you become him." Turning your head to kiss his cheek.

He sniffed softly, "Yeah?" "Yeah. And I'll be here for it. Every step of the way." You gently pushed him back onto the bed, resting on his chest again, both hands placed on his cheeks.

"And when this run ends, I'll be there for the next chapter." You kissed him slowly, feeling his desperation as he kissed you back. His lips moved softly against yours, and he moved his hands to hold your face like you had his.

"Hopefully, with this face, but who knows. Maybe I'll have a new face by then, and you'll have to be clever to find me in the crowd. No, wait-" You stopped to think about the exact workings of time in your situation. "You'll know the new face 'cause you were here before. Oh, I wanted to have you work for it. At least once." You sighed dramatically before going for another kiss.

He chuckled softly. "What are you on about?" the Doctor said, shaking his head softly. "We split. It's me and him from the point of Bi-Regeneration and onwards."

You stared at him momentarily, dumbfounded that he hadn't figured it out. You laughed, sitting up and looking at him with mischief.

"Is that how you think Bi-Regeneration works?" You giggled, watching his confused face.

"Well... Yeah! What else should be happening? It's two time-strands opening. I've got this once, and he's off doing new version things!" His hasty and offended answers made you laugh even harder.

"See, that is why I was at the academy and learned the proper stuff while you just went and stole a Tardis." You calmed down, still giggling but moving back towards him.

"This here is a time loop, silly." You peck a kiss on his nose. "You remain in this form till you regenerate, and then it's back to the rooftop, love." You grinned, watching gleefully as his 'Oh, now I understand' – expression took over his face.

He blinked, thinking for a moment, and you watched him quietly, a knowing smile on your lips.

"That's where he took off to. That's why he was in a hurry to leave!" He grinned triumphantly. He pulled you into a deep kiss, holding you close as he celebrated his achievement. You pushed yourself off him slowly," Now you have got to remember the date, Kensington Park, the 12 of June 2023. Italian Gardens."

"And bring some Ice cream?"

You held his cheek, gently smoothing over his skin.

"You know it, darling."

Thanks for reading! Feel free to send requests or promts if you would like to see more stories like this one :)

#doctor who x reader #doctor who #fourteenth doctor #the doctor x reader #reader insert #fifteenth doctor #14th doctor #60th anniversary #fourteenth doctor x fem! reader #14th doctor x reader #dw specials #timelord!reader

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ramonag-if · 4 months

Text

Chapter 8 Release Dates

I hope everyone is having a lovely Christmas Eve 🎄 Testing is quickly drawing to a close in Chapter 8, so I wanted to let you know the release dates in advance.

25 December 2023: Patrons of Cyre Tier and up;

28 December 2023: Patrons of the Nomad Tier;

1 January 2024: Public Release.

Please note that Chapter 8 will be the last chapter update for the public demo. Further chapters will be released only to my Patrons and the full game will be for sale on Steam and itch.io when it is completed.

If you would like to support me, consider joining my Patreon for early access to chapters, sneak peeks of scenes and upcoming chapters, bonus side stories and the ocassional smutty side story as voted for by Patrons.

I hope you have a wonderful and joyous holiday and if you're a Scrooge like me, I hope you get to stuff your dislike of Christmas with lots of good food instead 😄

#crown of exile #update schedule #chapter 8 #december 2023

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starry-hughes · 4 months

Text

christmas wrapping (quinn hughes)

day 25 of star’s ficmas

quinn hughes x reader

note: merry christmas! after posting fics for 25 days straight, i’m extremely proud of myself. i had a lot going on during these 25 days and i was convinced that i was going to give up but it made me have a goal for every day.

with that being said, welcome to the final fic. if you don’t understand the title, please refer to my FAVORITE christmas song by the waitresses christmas wrapping, in which this entire fic is based off of. i’ve been working on this for a while.

thank you for sticking around for 25 days!

It didn’t feel like Christmas. You were in a humbug spirit all month long, despite it being your absolute favorite holiday. Typically, by the month of December, you had presents bought and wrapped before the first week of the month ended.

You didn’t have somewhere to be on the holiday. Last year at Christmas, you were in a ski shop. Your friends had planned a whole ski trip which is where you met Quinn Hughes. Quinn had struck up the conversation and you both discovered you were living in Vancouver. At the end of the conversation, Quinn was giving you his phone number.

You fully intended on calling Quinn. But there was never the time. Between your work and own things, and his busy schedule, it was never lining up. When the season in the spring was picking up for Quinn, it was the time that you just so happened to reach out to him. You asked if lunch was something possible.

Quinn was all for lunch. He wanted to see you. The alluring individual he met in a ski shop when avoiding his brothers’ antics out in the snow. You suggested the first date, he was in Carolina that day. The date he suggested, you were on a work trip in Montreal. After the back and forth and exchange of at least ten different days in the spring, nothing was working out. Both of you laughed it off, promising to keep in touch for when schedules got light and times would match up better.

The next time you would hear from Quinn would be the summertime. You were returning from a weekend trip with some friends to the beach, but on your trip, you had forgotten an important item. Sunscreen. You had horrible sun blisters and it hurt to even lay in bed. Quinn normally didn’t spend the summer in Vancouver but he was there briefly for a little, visiting some friends, when he invited you to a boat day on the lake. You wanted to attend so bad, you were still wanting to meet with Quinn again, see if the spark was still there from December of last year. Sadly, you had to decline, sending him a picture of you with aloe slathered on your face, telling him it was sunburn in the third degree keeping you from joining him.

Quinn understood, no one would ever want to sit under the scorching sun after getting severe sunburn. There were no hard feelings but he was wishing he could see you.

You finally took the time to call all your friends who had invited you over for Christmas. Declining all the invites, making phone calls to all the parties you were asked to RSVP to. It had been a crazy year and you had decided it would be your first Christmas alone. It was a hard decision but it was needed.

You thought back to Halloween. Quinn had invited you to the Canucks Halloween party at Brock Boeser’s house. He was supposed to pick you up. You were sitting in your apartment for a while, costume on, handing out candy to the few kids who knocked on your door. Quinn was exasperated when he called. Of course this would be the night his car battery died. His friends were already all at the party and there was no one to help him. He promised he wasn’t bailing on purpose and you told him it was okay and believed his word. Guess another time would have to do.

You had grocery shopped for your small Christmas dinner days in advance. The moment you decided to eat and celebrate alone, you picked up everything. A small turkey was in the oven, resting, while you put together other items. You cursed to yourself, of course you’d forget cranberry sauce. And it was Christmas Eve, meaning all the last minute shoppers would be at the store. It was windy and rainy in Vancouver, a gloomy Christmas. Slipping on your rain boots and coat, you made it down to the nearest store.

Quinn wasn’t used to spending the holidays alone. But one mistake in his family and their booking of flights and he was alone. Honestly, he preferred it. He needed the time to recharge. After being named captain of his hockey team and his team doing pretty well, he deserved time to himself. He didn’t have a big dinner planned, declining all invites from his teammates.

He had waited until the last minute to buy most things and fought through the last minute crowds to get everything in the morning to make dinner for himself tomorrow on Christmas Day. But while emptying his grocery bags, he realized he forgot cranberry sauce. He trudged through to the store down the street from his apartment.

You couldn’t exactly put your finger on where you knew him from when you first saw him. You were standing in line, cranberry sauce in hand when Quinn joined the line right next to yours. You smiled at him and he immediately knew it was you. He joined in you line.

“Spending this Christmas alone?” you questioned. “Yeah it’s been crazy,” he responded.

“Yeah me too, but why are you at the store..” your voice trailed off, “you forgot cranberry too!”

Quinn and you both laughed and then at the same time, it clicked. Christmas magic from the movies. “My dinner is almost done, if you want to come over,” you suggested. “I’d love that,” he paid for both cans of cranberry sauce. “Tomorrow, you can eat dinner at my place if you want,” he said.

You nodded and the two of you made the way out of the grocery store together and down to your apartment. “I feel bad, we don’t have gifts to unwrap,” you said. “I guess cranberries work. Or maybe a toothbrush depending if I stay the night.”

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes blurb #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #star’s ficmas #vancouver canucks imagine #canucks imagine

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lilyrizzy · 6 months

Text

max & daniel's relationship, told through 13 years of max's google searches. thank you to @catofthecanals289 and @lajnias for reading through this for me!!! also on ao3

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& 2023

“Max,” Daniel calls to him from the bedroom, just as he is rinsing the shampoo from his hair. Not wanting shampoo in his eyes or his mouth, Max keeps them all firmly shut.

“Baby?” Daniel says again, louder.

The warm water is a gentle relief running over his sweat sticky skin, nowhere near the scalding temperatures Daniel sets their shower to at home. It’s why Max had insisted that they clean off separately, the Austin heat far too much for Max to endure boiling water too, despite Daniel’s pouting and dramatic insistence that Max couldn’t just ‘fuck and flee.”

“Yes,” he calls when all the suds are safely sliding past his shoulders, but he didn’t need to shout. When he opens his eyes he sees Daniel leaning against the doorway with a smirk, still wearing his unbuttoned satin shirt, cowboy hat and nothing else. His wedding ring sits heavy on his finger, and Max thumbs over the matching one on his own hand.

Max’s come is a shiny presence he can still see smeared between Daniel’s thighs.

The sight of him makes Max’s dick twitch. Daniel notices and his grin only widens.

“Baby,” he says again, too sweet. “Baby, why is your most recent Google search is it weird that my husband saying yeehaw makes me come?”

And just like that, Max suddenly longs for a hot shower, an excuse for why his cheeks start to burn red.

“Why are you snooping through my phone?” He demands, forcing himself not to turn away casually and instead keep rubbing the hotel’s own body wash under his armpits.

“I wasn’t snooping,” Daniel says easily, “I was looking to get us some ribs delivered, my phone died at the track, remember?”

Max makes a noncommittal noise because vaguely he does remember Daniel saying he needed to put it on charge. That was before Max started pawing at him the moment the hotel door shut behind them though, and then it had been forgotten by both of them.

There’s just the noise of the extractor fan whirring for a moment, but Daniel doesn’t move. When Max sneaks a glance at him, he’s still leaning against the door frame looking amused.

“Sooo.” He drawls out the word in the stupid Texas accent that Max wishes he didn’t find so strangely sexy. “Are we going to talk about this, little lady, or-“

“Nope,” Max says firmly, turning off the shower.

Daniel nods. It makes the lights of the bathroom catch on his chain and Max- Max really wants to fuck him again.

“What about the one below it?” He asks, “Daniel Ricciardo Austin 2023 photos?”

“Nope,” Max says again, stepping out of the shower and reaching for his towel. He’s smiling now too, because he knows that beneath Daniel’s teasing that one will have made him happy to see.

“Okay,” Daniel says, then he unlocks Max’s phone. “What about how to ask my husband to-“

“Daniel,” Max interrupts, taking the phone from his hand and putting it into the empty sink. “Do you want to read more of my internet history, or do you want to get back on the bed and play good cowboy, bad cowboy again?”

Daniel grins, takes the cowboy hat from his head and puts it onto Max’s. When his arms wind around Max, the silky fabric of his shirt presses cool against Max’s shower-warm skin, his nipples.

“Well, when you put it like that,” Daniel says, leaning in to put his mouth on the skin just beneath Max’s ear. “Yeehaw, baby.”

Max laughs and pinches Daniel’s ass, at the same time as his dick twitches again. Backing him out of the bathroom, towards the bed, his phone is forgotten in the bathroom.

Google never had all the answers when it came to them, anyway.

#im so shitty at making headers but I'm lazy so shhh don't judge it too hard lol #fic #max/daniel

388 notes · View notes

kithtaehyung · 5 months

Text

[ 3tan11 ] alrighty, my loves. i've been on writing lockdown and took a break to finally type this up. few things to note before drop:

this will either drop tomorrow night as scheduled, or sunday, december 3rd to give me a little more time. too many recent unexpected things happened for me to be completely sure about the 27th drop and it hurts to think about pushing it back, but if i need to, i will.

estimated wc will be 25-30k, so this chapter will be split into two parts - two separate posts - on the same night. i know it will be super easy to just move onto the next part, but please consider interacting with both parts equally even if you do it after reading! any likes, comments, and shares would be loved and appreciated :D

just gonna say this now, but if this gets reported by anyone and slapped with a community label, i'm deleting the posts and will completely reupload. if you are curious as to why, this ask by the wonderful kiki @chryblossomjjk herself sums up why labels are harmful to creators.

if you're a person that reblogs with comments, have those notes saved somewhere in case this happens! if you don't wanna see this on your blog, just filter *ryenfictalk, 3tan11, or three tangerines so that it doesn't show on your feed.

🍊the discord server has been amazing! if you are a reader of the series and wanna join this super fun community, go ahead and apply hehehe. it's been one hell of a time already🍊

that's it for now! love you all and i am gonna work super super hard on this bc i know how long the wait has been, and i truly do wanna put my best effort forward for y'all. if that means pushing it back, so be it! i’ll be sure to let you know once i know for sure❤️‍🩹

#until drop!!#pls give me strength😭#*ryenfictalk #3tan11 #3tanotes #kiki i didn’t know you sent an ask in to them!#hopefully this gets better for creators #especially fic writers

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anotherhumaninthisworld · 1 month

Note

I understand the story of marat and his assassination event

But who is lepeletier?

Because I saw a drawing for him by louis David and I learned about his death which happen to be the same as Marat so yeah .. I wanna know about him.

According to the biography Michel Lepeletier de Saint-Fargeau, 1760-1793 (1913), its subject of study was born on 29 May 1760, in his family home on rue Culture-Sainte-Catherine, a building which today is the Bibliothèque Historique de la Ville de Paris. His family belonged to the distinguished part of the robe nobility. At the death of his father in 1769, Lepeletier was both Count of Saint-Fargeau, Marquis of Montjeu, Baron of Peneuze, Grand Bailiff of Gien as well as the owner of 400,000 livres de rente. For five years he worked as avocat du roi at Châtelet, before becoming councilor in Parliament in 1783, general counsel in 1784 and finally taking over the prestigious position of président à mortier at the Parlement of Paris from his father in 1785. On May 16 1789, Lepeletier was elected to represent the nobility at the Estates General. On June 25 the same year he was one of the 47 nobles to join the newly declared National Assembly, two days before the king called on the rest of the first two estates to do so as well. A month later, during the night of August 4 1789, he was in the forefront of those who proposed the suppression of feudalism, even if, for his part, this meant losing 80 000 livres de rente. Four days later he wrote a letter to the priest of Saint-Fargeau, renouncing his rights to both mills, furnaces, dovecote, exclusive hunting and fishing, insence and holy water, butchery and haulage (the last four things the Assembly hadn’t ruled on yet). When the Assembly on June 19 1790 abolished titles, orders, and other privileges of the hereditary nobility, Lepeletier made the motion that all citizens could only bear their real family name — ”The tree of aristocracy still has a branch that you forgot to cut..., I want to talk about these usurper names, this right that the nobles have arrogated to themselves exclusively to call themselves by the name of the place where they were lords. I propose that every individual must bear his last name and consequently I sign my motion: Michel Lepeletier” — and the same year he also, in the name of the Criminal Jurisprudence Committee, presented a report on the supression of the penal code and argued for the abolition of the death penalty. After the closing of the National Assembly in 1791, Lepeletier settled in Auxerre to take on the functions of president of the directory of Yonne, a position to which he had been nominated the previous year. He did however soon thereafter return to Paris, as he, following the overthrow of the monarchy, was one of few former nobles elected to the National Convention, where he was also one of even fewer former nobles to sit together with the Mountain. In December 1792 he started working on a public education plan. On January 20 1793, he voted for death without a reprieve and against an appeal to the people during the trial of Louis XVI (Opinion de L.M. Lepeletier, sur le jugement de Louis XVI, ci-devant roi des François: imprimée par ordre de la Convention nationale). After the session was over, Lepeletier went over to Palais-Égalité (former Palais-Royal) where he dined everyday. The next day, his friend and fellow deputy Nicolas Maure could report the following to the Convention:

Citizens, it is with the deepest affection and resentment of my heart that I announce to you the assassination of a representative of the people, of my dear colleague and friend Lepelletier, deputy of Yonne; committed by an infamous royalist, yesterday, at five o'clock, at the restaurateur Fevrier, in the Jardin de l'Égalité. This good citizen was accustomed to dining there (and often, after our work, we enjoyed a gentle and friendly conversation there) by a very unfortunate fate, I did not find myself there; for perhaps I could have saved his life, or shared his fate. Barely had he started his dinner when six individuals, coming out of a neighboring room, presented themselves to him. One of them, said to be Pâris, a former bodyguard, said to the others: There's that rascal Lepeletier. He answered him, with his usual gentleness: I am Lepeletier, but I am not a rascal. Paris replied: Scoundrel, did you not vote for the death of the king? Lepelletier replied: That is true, because my confidence commanded me to do so.Instantly, the assassin pulled a saber, called a lighter, from under his coat and plunged it furiously into his left side, his lower abdomen; it created a wound four inches deep and four fingers wide. The assassin escaped with the help of his accomplices. Lepeletier still had the gentleness to forgive him, to pray that no further action would be taken; his strength allowed him to make his declaration to the public officer, and to sign it. He was placed in the hands of the surgeons who took him to his brother, at Place Vendôme. I went there immediately, led by my tender friendship, and my reverence for the virtues which he practiced without ostentation: I found him on his death bed, unconscious. When he showed me his wound, he uttered only these two words: I'm cold. He died this morning, at half past one, saying that he was happy to shed his blood for the homeland; that he hoped that the sacrifice of his life would consolidate Liberty; that he died satisfied with having fulfilled his oaths.

This was the first time a Convention deputy had gotten murdered, and it naturally caused strong reactions. Already the same session when Maure had announced Lepeletier’s death, the Convention ordered the following:

There are grounds for indictment against Pâris, former king's guard, accused of the assassination of the person of Michel Lepelletier, one of the representatives of the French people, committed yesterday.

[The Convention] instructs the Provisional Executive Council to prosecute and punish the culprit and his accomplices by the most prompt measures, and to without delay hand over to its committee of decrees the copies of the minutes from the justice of the peace and the other acts containing information relating to this attack.

The Decrees and Legislation Committees will present, in tomorrow's session, the drafting of the indictment.

An address will be written to the French people, which will be sent to the 84 departments and the armies, by extraordinary couriers, to inform them of the crime against the Nation which has just been committed against the person of Michel Lepelletier, of the measures that the National Convention has taken for the punishment for this attack, to invite the citizens to peace and tranquility, and the constituted authorities to the most exact surveillance.

The entire National Convention will attend the funeral of Michel Lepelletier, assassinated for having voted for the death of the tyrant.

The honors of the French Pantheon are awarded to Michel Lepelletier, and his body will be placed there.

The president is responsible for writing, on behalf of the National Convention, to the department of Yonne, and to the family of Lepelletier.

The next day, January 22, further instructions were given regarding Lepeletier’s funeral:

On Thursday January 24, Year 2 of the Republic, at eight o'clock in the morning, will be celebrated, at the expense of the Nation, the funeral of Michel Lepeletier, deputy of the department of Yonne to the National Convention.

The National Convention will attend the funeral of Michel Lepeletier in its entirety. The executive council, the administrative and judicial bodies will attend it as well.

The executive council and the department of Paris will consult with the Committee of Public Instruction regarding the details of the funeral ceremony.

The last words spoken by Michel Lepeletier will be engraved on his tomb, they are as follows: “I am happy to shed my blood for the homeland; I hope that it will serve to consolidate Liberty and Equality; and to make their enemies recognized.”

In number 27 (January 27 1793) of Gazette Nationale ou Le Moniteur Universel, the following long description was given over Lepeletier’s funeral, held three days earlier:

The funeral of Lepeletier Saint-Fargeau was celebrated on Thursday 24 with all the splendor that the severity of the weather and the season allowed, but with such a crowd that it could have been the most beautiful day of the year. At ten o'clock in the morning his deathbed was placed on the pedestal where the equestrian statue of Louis XVI previously stood, on Place Vendôme, today Place des Piques. One went up to the pedestal by two staircases, on the banisters of which were antique candelabras. The body was lying on the bed with the bloody sheets and the sword with which he had been struck. He was naked to the waist, and his large and deep wound could be seen exposed. These were the mournful and most endearing part of this great spectacle. All that was missing was the author of the crime, chained, and beginning his torture by witnessing the sight of the triumph of Saint-Fargeau. As soon as the National Convention and all the bodies that were to form courage were assembled in the square, mournful music was played. It was, like almost all those which has embellished our revolutionary festivals, the composition of citizen Gossec. The Convention was ranged around the pedestal. The citizen in charge of the ceremonies presented the President of the Convention with a wreath of oak and flowers; then the president, preceded by the ushers of the Convention and the national music, went around the monument, and went up to the pedestal to place the civic crown on Lepeletier's head: during this time, a federate gave a speech; the president dismounted, the procession set out in the following order: A detachment of cavalry preceded by trumpets with fourdincs. Sappers. Cannoneers without cannons. Detachment of veiled drummers. Declaration of the rights of man carried by citizens. Volunteers of the six legions, and 24 flags. Drum detachment. A banner on which was written the decree of the Convention which ordered the transport of Lepeletier's body to the Pantheon. Students of the homeland. Police commissioners. The conciliation office. Justices of the peace. Section presidents and commissioners. The commercial court. The provisional criminal court. The department’s fix courts. The electorate. The provisional criminal court. The department's criminal courts fix. The municipality of Paris. The districts of Saint-Denis and the village of L’Égalité. The Department. Drum detachment. The seal of the 84, worn by Federates. The provisional executive council. National Convention Guard Detachment. The court of cassation. Figure of Liberty carried by citizens. The bloody clothes worn at the end of a national pike, deputies marching in two columns. In the middle of the deputies was a banner where Lepeletier's last words were written: "I am happy to shed my blood for my homeland, I hope that it will serve to consolidate Liberty and Equality, and to make their enemies known.”

The body carried by citizens, as it was exhibited on the Place des Piques. Around the body, gunners, sabers in hand, accompanied by an equal number of Veterans. Music from the National Guard, who performed funeral tunes during the march. Family of the dead. Group of mothers with children. Detachment of the Convention Guard. Veiled drums. Volunteers of the six legions and 24 flags. Veiled drums. Volunteers of the six legions and 24 flags. Veiled drums. Volunteers of the six legions and 24 flags. Veiled drums. Armed federations. Popular societies. Cavalry and trumpets with fourdines. On each side, citizens, armed with pikes, formed a barrier and supported the columns. These citizens held their pikes horizontally, at hip height, from hand to hand. The procession left in this order from the Place des Piques, and passed through the streets St-Honoré, du Roule, the Pont-Neuf, the streets Thionville (former Dauphine), Fossés Saint-Germain, Liberté (former Fossés M. le Prince), Place Saint-Michel and Rue d'Enfer, Saint-Thomas, Saint-Jacques and Place du Panthéon. It stopped front of the meeting room of the Friends of Liberty and Equality; opposite the Oratory, on the Pont-Neuf, opposite the Samaritaine; in front of the meeting room of the Friends of the Rights of Man; at the intersection of Rue de la Liberté; Place Saint-Michel and the Pantheon. Arriving at the Pantheon, the body was placed on the platform prepared for it. The National Convention lined up around it; the band, placed in the rostrum, performed a superb religious choir; Lepeletier's brother then gave a speech, in which he announced that his brother had left a work, almost completed, on national education, which will soon be made public; he ended with these words: I vote, like my brother, for the death of tyrants. The representatives of the people, brought closer to the body, promised each other union, and swore on the salvation of the homeland. A big chorus to Liberty ended the ceremony.

According to Michel Lepeletier de Saint-Fargeau, 1760-1793 (1913), civic festivals in honor of Lepeletier were celebrated in all sections of Paris, as well as the towns of Arras, Toulouse, Chaumont, Valenciennes, Dijon, Abbeville and Huningue. Lepeletier’s body did however only get to rest in the Panthéon for a little more than a year, as on February 15 1795, the Convention ordered it exhumed, at the same time as that of Marat. It was instead buried in the park surrounding Château de Ménilmontant, the properly of which the ancestor Lepeletier de Souzy had purchased in the 17th century and that still remained in the family.

One day after the funeral, January 25, Lepeletier’s only child, the ten and a half year old Susanne, who had already lost her mother ten years before the murder of her father, was brought before the Convention by her step-mother and two paternal uncles Amédée and Félix. It was Félix who had held a speech during the funeral and he would continue to work for his seven years older brother’s memory afterwards too, offering a bust of him to the Convention on February 21 1793, (on the proposal of David, it was placed next to the one of Brutus), reading his posthumous work on public education to the Jacobins on July 19 1793, and even writing a whole biography over his life in 1794 (Vie de Michel Lepeletier, représentant du peuple français, assassiné à Paris le 20 janvier 1793 : faite et présentée a la Société des Jacobins).

The president announces that the widow of Michel Lepelletier, his two brothers and his daughter, request to be admitted to the bar, to testify to the Convention their recognition of the honors that they have decreed in memory of their relative. It is decreed that they will be admitted immediately.

One of Michel Lepeletier’s brothers: Citizens, allow me to introduce my niece, the daughter of Michel Lepelletier; she comes to offer you and the French people her recognition of the eternity of glory to which you have dedicated her father... He takes the young citoyenne Lepelletier in his arms, and makes her look at the president of the Convention... My niece, this is now your father... Then, addressing the members of the Convention, and the citizens present at the session: People, here is your child... Lepelletier pronounces these last words in an altered voice: silence reigns throughout the room, with exception for a couple of sobs.

The President: Citizens, the martyr of Liberty has received the just tribute of tears owed to him by the National Convention, and the just honor that his cold skin has received invites us to imitate his example and to avenge his death. But the name of Lepelletier, immortal from now on, will be dear to the French Nation. The National Convention, which needs to be consoled, finds relief to its pain in expressing to his family the just regrets of its members and the recognition of the great Nation of which it is the organ. The Nation will undoubtedly ratify the adoption of Michel Lepelletier's daughter that is currently being carried out by the National Convention.

Barère: The emotion that the sight of Michel Lepeletier's only daughter has just communicated to your souls must not be infertile for the homeland. Susanne Lepelletier lost her father; she must find now find one in the French people. Its representatives must consecrate this moment of all-too-just felicity to a law that can bring happiness to several citizens and hope to several families. The errors of nature, the illusions of paternity, the stability of morals, have long demanded this beautiful institution of the Romans. What more touching time could present itself at the National Convention to pass into French legislation the principle of adoption, than that when the last crimes of expiring tyranny deprived the homeland of one of its ardent defenders and Susanne Lepelletier of a dear father! Let the National Convention therefore give today the first example of adoption by decreeing it for the only offspring of Lepelletier; let it instruct the Legislation Committee to immediately present the bill on this interesting subject. I ask that the homeland adopt through your organ Susanne Lepelletier, daughter of Michel Lepelletier, who died for his country; that it decrees that adoption will be part of French legislation, and instructs its Legislation Committee to immediately present the draft decree on adoption.

This proposal is unanimously approved.

Susanne being adopted by the state would however lead to a fierce debate when, in 1797, this ”daughter of the nation” wished to marry a foreigner. For this affair, see the article Adopted Daughter of the French People: Suzanne Lepeletier and Her Father, the National Assembly (1999)

Right after Barère’s intervention, David took to the rostrum:

David: Still filled with the pain that we felt, while attending the funeral procession with which we honored the inanimate remains of our colleagues, I ask that a marble monument be made, which transmits to posterity the figure of Lepelletier , as you clearly saw, when it was brought to the Pantheon. I ask that this work be put into competition.

Saint-André: I ask that this figure be placed on the pedestal which is in the middle of Place Vendôme... (A few murmurs arise)

Jullien: I ask that the Convention adopt in advance, in the name of the homeland, the children of the defenders of Liberty, who, for similar reasons, could be immolated in the vengeance of the royalists.

All these proposals are referred to the Legislation and Public Instruction Committees.

On Maure's proposal, the Assembly orders the printing of the speeches delivered yesterday at the Panthéon, by one of Michel Lepelletier's brothers, Barère and Vergniaux.

If it would appear David never got to make a marble monument of Lepeletier, on March 28 1793, he could nevertheless present the following painting of his to the Convention, which isn’t just a little similar to his La Mort de Marat.

(This image is an engraving of the actual painting, which has gone missing)

After Marat on July 13 1793 (on the very same day the plan for public education Lepeletier had been working on was read to the Convention by Robespierre) became the second assassinated Convention deputy, we find several engravings etc, depicting the two ”martyrs of liberty” side by side.

In the following months, even more people would be join the two, such as Joseph Chalier, a lyonnais politician executed on July 17 1794 and Joseph Bara, a fourteen year old republican drummer boy killed in the Vendée by the pro-Monarchist forces.

Lepeletier’s murderer, 27 year old Philippe Nicolas Marie de Pâris, a man who the minister of justice described as "former king's guard, height five pieds, five pouces, barbe bleue, and black hair; swarthy complexion, fine teeth, dressed in a gray cloak, green lapels and a round hat” on January 21, went into hiding right after his deed. In spite of his description being published in the papers and a considerable sum of money being promised to whoever caught him, Pâris managed to flee Paris and settled for a country house of an acquaintance near Bourget. He there ran into a cousin of one of the owners. When Pâris asked for food and a bed, he was refused and instead disappeared into the night again. In the evening of January 28 he arrived in Forges-les-Eaux and stopped at an inn, where he came under suspicion once he started cutting his bread with a dagger after which he locked himself into his room. The following morning he woke up with a start as five municipal gendarmes came bursting into his room and told him to come with them. Pâris responded that he would, but in the next second he had picked up his hidden pistol, placed it into his mouth, and pulled the trigger. Searching the dead body, the gendarmes found Pâris’ baptism record (dated November 12 1765) and dismissal from the king's guard (dated June 1 1792), on the latter of which had been written the following:

My certificate of honor. Do not trouble anyone. No one was my accomplice in the fortunate death of the scoundrel de Saint-Fargeau. Had I not run into him, I would have carried out a more beautiful action: I would have purged France of the patricide, regicide and parricide d’Orléans. The French are cowards to whom I say: Peuple dont les forfaits jettent partout l'effroi, Avec calme et plaisir j'abandonne la vie. Ce n'est que par la mort qu'on peut fuir l'infamie Qu'imprime sur nos fronts le sang de notre roi. Signed by Paris the older, guard of the king, assassinated by the French.

Learning about what had happened, the Convention tasked Tallien and Legrand with going to Forges-les-Eaux and making sure the dead man really was Pânis. Having come to the conclusion that this was indeed the case, the deputies briefly discussed whether the body ought to be brought back to Paris, but it was decided it would be better if it was just buried "with ignominy.” It was therefore instead taken into the nearby forest in a wheelbarrow and thrown into a six feet deep hole.

Finally, here are some other revolutionaries simping for honoring Lepeletier’s memory just because I can:

…a tragic event took place the day before the execution [of the king]. Pelletier, one of the most patriotic deputies, and who had voted for death, was assassinated. A king's guard made a wound three fingers wide with a saber: he died this morning. You must judge the effect that such a crime has had on the friends of liberty. Pelletier had an income of six hundred thousand livres; he had been président à mortier in the Parliament of Paris; he was barely thirty years old; to many talents, he added the most estimable of virtues. He died happy, he took to his grave the idea, consoling for a patriot, that his death would serve the public good. Here then is one of these beings whom the infamous cabal who, in the Convention, wanted to save Louis and bring back slavery, designated to the departments as a Maratist, a factious, a disorganizer... But the reign of these political rascals is finished. You will see the measures that the Assembly took both to avenge the national majesty and to pay homage to a generous martyr of liberty. Philippe Lebas in a letter to his father, January 21 1793

Ah! if it is true that man does not die entirely and that the noblest part of himself survives beyond the grave and is still interested in the things of life, come then, dear and sacred shadow, sometimes to hover above the Senate of the nation that you adorned with your virtues; come and contemplate your work, come and see your united brothers contributing to the happiness of the homeland, to the happiness of humanity. Marat in number 105 (January 23 1793) of Journal de la République Française

O Lepeletier! Your death will serve the Republic: I envy your death. You ask for the honors of the Pantheon for him, but he has already collected the prize of martyrdom of Liberty. The way to honor his memory is to swear that we will not leave each other without having given a constitution to the Republic. Danton at the Convention, January 21 1793

O Le Peletier, you were worthy to die for your homeland under the blows of its assassins! Dear and sacred shadow, receive our wishes and our oaths! Generous citizen, incorruptible friend of the truth, we swear by your virtues, we swear by your fatal and glorious death to defend against you the holy cause of which you were the apostle; we swear eternal war against the crime of which you were the eternal enemy, against the tyranny and treason of which you were the victim. We envy your death and we will know how to imitate your life. They will remain forever engraved in our hearts, these last words where you showed us your entire soul; ”May my death,” you said, “be useful to the homeland, may it will serve to make known the true and false friends of liberty, and I die content.” Robespierre at the Jacobins, January 23

Wednesday 23 [sic] — We went to Madame Boyer’s to see the procession. I saw the poor Saint-Fargeau. We all burst into tears when the body passed by, we threw a wreath on it. After the ceremony, we returned to my house. Ricord and Forestier had arrived. I was unable to stop my tears for some time. F(réron), La P(oype), Po, R(obert) and others came to dinner. The dinner was quite fun and cheerful. Afterwards they went to the Jacobins, Maman and I stayed by the fire and, our imaginations struck by what we had seen, we talked about it for a while. She wanted to leave, I felt that I could not be alone and bear the horrible thoughts that were going to besiege me. I ran to D(anton’s). He was moved to see me still pale and defeated. We drank tea, I supped there. Lucile Desmoulins in her diary, January 24 1793

…Pelletier's funeral took place this Thursday as I informed you in my last letter (this letter has gone missing). The procession was immense; it seemed that the population of Paris had doubled, to honor the memory of this virtuous citizen. The mourning of the soul was painted on all the faces: it was especially noticed that the people were extremely affected, which proves that they keenly felt the price of the friend they had lost. Arriving at the Pantheon, Lepelletier's body was placed on the platform prepared for it; his brother delivered a speech which was applauded with tears; Barère succeeded him. Then the members of the Convention, crowding around the body of their colleague, promised union among themselves, and took an oath to save the country. God grant that we have not sworn in vain, that we finally know the full extent of our duties, and that we only occupy ourselves with fulfilling them! In yesterday's session, Pelletier's daughter, aged eight [sic], was presented to the National Convention, which immediately adopted her as a child of the homeland. Georges Couthon in a letter written January 26 1793

How could I be so base as to abandon myself to criminal connections, I who, in the world, have never had more than one close friend since the age of six? (he gestures towards David's painting). Here he is! Michel Lepeletier, oh you from whom I have never parted, you whose virtue was my model, you who like me was the target of parliamentary hatred, happy martyr! I envy your glory. I, like you, will rush for my country in the face of liberticidal daggers; but did I have to be assassinated by the dagger of a republican! Hérault de Sechelles at the Convention, December 29 1793

For a collection of Lepeletier’s works, see Oeuvres de Michel Lepeletier Saint-Fargeau, député aux assemblées constituante et conventionnelle, assassiné le 20 janvier 1793, par Paris, garde du roi (1826)

#hérault and lepeletier being bff’s since age six was new information for me #also i think Augustin just found a rival in ”most loyal little bro in the revolution”#frev #michel lepeletier #lepeletier de saint-fargeau #french revolution #ask #long post

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