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fictionadventurer · 11 months

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The Shocking Redemption Arc of Chester Arthur

To my great pleasure, I get to tell you about Chester A. Arthur. If you don’t know his story, that’s a surprising statement, because most people don’t even recognize his name as one of the presidents. That’s a crying shame, because this guy has the most fascinating character arc of any president I’ve come across so far. He entered the presidency as a despicable, corrupt, conniving political lackey, and left it as--

Well, I’d best get on with the story.

Chester Arthur started out as an idealist. He was the son of an abolitionist Baptist minister, and though he dropped the religion in adulthood, he remained devoted to abolishing slavery. He became a lawyer with a New York firm that argued several civil rights case, and he rose to fame in 1854 when he served as the defense attorney for Elizabeth Jennings, the Northern version of Rosa Parks. Arthur’s victory in her case led to the desegregation of New York City’s public transportation.

During the Civil War, Arthur got an appointment as New York’s quartermaster general. After the war, Arthur returned to civilian life and became a Republican “party man” who worked behind the scenes to draw in voters, funding, and supporters. He and his wife Ellen (called Nell) both loved the finer things in life, which drove Arthur to do whatever he could to gain fame, wealth, and social status.

This is where I need to explain the spoils system. For the first hundred-plus years of American politics, all federal positions were filled by appointment. When a new president came into office, he could award government positions to his supporters--"to the victor go the spoils". Federal employees were required to donate money to the ruling party. There were no requirements for education or relevant experience. Any job could be filled by anyone with the right connections. If you think that sounds like a breeding ground for corruption and cronyism, you’d be absolutely right. By the 1870s, the system was getting extremely corrupt, and there was a growing push for reform.

But not by Chester Arthur. He owed his career to the spoils system. Through his work in the party, he became the right-hand man of Roscoe Conkling, New York’s senior senator and the state’s “political boss”. Conkling was a flamboyant showman, a magnetic politician, and a ruthless man. He had been a major supporter of Ulysses S. Grant’s presidential campaign, so Grant gave Conkling control over all the federal appointments in New York. Conkling used his power to fill positions with his friends and supporters, and he was brutal in attacking anyone who got in his way.

Because Chester Arthur was Conkling’s most loyal supporter, he got the best federal job in the country—Controller of the Port of New York. Before income tax, around 60-70% of federal funds came from the tariffs at this one port. The controller got a salary similar to the president’s, plus he was able to take a percentage of all the fines they levied. At the height of his power, Chester Arthur made $50,000 a year, which is a lot when the average skilled worker at the time made $500. (A rough estimate puts his salary at $1.3 million in today’s dollars.)

Arthur was living the high life. He racked up huge tailor bills. He had a gorgeously furnished house. His job allowed him to force his employees to donate a percentage of their salary to the Republican Party, which gave him even more power within the political machine. He bought huge amounts of wine and cigars that he handed out to people he was wining and dining for the good of the party. His wife resented that he was rarely home because of his political work, but Arthur loved the machine too much to stop.

After his 1876 election, President Rutherford B. Hayes desperately tried to reform the spoils system, but was blocked every step of the way by Roscoe Conkling. Finally, in 1878, Hayes managed to remove Arthur from his position as port controller, under suspicion of corruption, which allowed Arthur to spend more time working for New York’s political machine.

In January of 1880, Arthur was in Albany working for a political campaign when his wife caught pneumonia. By the time Arthur got home, Nell had fallen into a coma, and he wasn’t able to speak with her before she died. He felt guilty over her death, and especially the lack of closure caused by his devotion to politics. But instead of changing his ways, Arthur moved in with Conkling and became more devoted to politics than ever.

Which brings us to the 1880 Republican Convention. The Republican Party was split between two warring factions—the Stalwarts like Conkling who wanted to keep things the way they were, and the Half-Breeds who wanted civil service reform. President Hayes refused to seek re-election (partly because Conkling had made his life miserable) so these two factions somehow had to agree on a new candidate. Conkling supported a third term for Ulysses S. Grant. The Half-Breeds supported James G. Blaine of Maine—who happened to be Conkling’s mortal enemy.

James Garfield was there to nominate John Sherman—the Secretary of the Treasury and the younger brother of the famous Civil War general—and I can’t go any further in this story before I tell you a little bit about him. James Garfield is one of the most ridiculous overachievers in the realm of American politics. He was born into a dirt-poor farming family (he’s the last president ever to have been born in a log cabin). At sixteen, he left home to work on a canal boat, but quit after he nearly drowned, and his mother and brother scraped up enough money for him to go to school. His first year, he paid for his tuition by working as a school janitor. His second year, the school hired him to teach six classes (while he was still a student!) and then added two more because of how popular he was. By the time he was twenty-six, he was president of that same school. He became a lawyer and was elected to Ohio’s state legislature. During the Civil War, he became the youngest person to earn the rank of general. While fighting in the Civil War, his friends put his name in as a candidate for the US House of Representatives, and Garfield won even though he refused to campaign. He then served several terms in the House, where he became popular, but he refused to seek the presidency, because he’d watched several friends become warped by their presidential ambitions.

At the 1880 Republican Convention, Garfield was the more popular Ohio candidate, but insisted he was there only to nominate Sherman. At one point in his nominating speech, Garfield asked the audience, “Now, gentleman, what do we want?” To Garfield’s horror, one man shouted, “We want Garfield!”

Garfield remained loyal in nominating Sherman, but the spark had been lit. The voting went round after round after round for two days, with the votes being split between Grant, Blaine, and Sherman, with no one getting enough to win the nomination. Garfield got one vote in the third round. In the thirty-fourth round, Garfield suddenly got seventeen votes. Garfield stood to protest, saying no one had a right to vote for him since he hadn't consented, but the president of the convention--who was secretly thrilled because he liked Garfield more than any of the other candidates--told Garfield to sit down.

By the thirty-sixth vote, Garfield had won the nomination.

Now they had to choose a vice president. Several of the delegates got the idea to throw a bone to Roscoe Conkling. He was furious that Grant had lost the nomination, and he was vindictive. Conkling controlled New York’s political machine, so without him, the Republicans would lose New York, and without New York, they’d lose the election. He had to be placated. So the delegates nominated Chester Arthur, his right-hand man, as vice president.

Conkling told Arthur to refuse the nomination, but Arthur accepted, saying it was a greater honor than he had ever hoped to achieve. That's putting it mildly. The only position he’d ever held was port controller, and he’d been removed from that. Plenty of people thought nominating him was a horrible idea—a man like Chester Arthur only one step away from the presidency? But other people thought it was a shrewd political move—it would placate Conkling’s faction of the party, and Garfield was young and healthy and would rule in a time of peace. It wasn’t like there was any chance he’d die in office.

After Garfield was elected, Arthur immediately started causing problems. He all but openly boasted of buying votes in the election—which was not a great look when it had been a close race. He was completely on Conkling’s side in his war against Garfield. After Garfield appointed Levi Morton, a Stalwart, as Secretary of the Navy, Conkling sent Arthur and another lackey to drag Morton out of his sickbed--forcing him to drink a bracing mixture of quinine and brandy--and bring him to Conkling’s house to get chewed out, which caused Morton to resign. Conkling forced another Stalwart Cabinet nominee to resign on inauguration day.

Then Conkling went to war over the federal appointments. At first, Garfield placated him, appointing several of Conkling’s candidates. But then Garfield nominated Judge Robertson as Port Controller of New York Harbor. Conkling was livid. That was the prime federal position, a major source of Conkling’s power in the party, and Robertson was one of Conkling’s political enemies. In Conkling’s mind, Garfield had stabbed him in the back. Arthur agreed, and openly bad-mouthed the president to the press.

Conkling and the other New York senator resigned their Senate seats in protest—a dramatic political move. In those days, state legislatures voted for senators, and Conkling believed that since he controlled so many New York politicians, they’d easily get re-elected to their old seats. Unfortunately, the legislature was sick of being under Conkling’s thumb. The election became a drawn-out battle, and Chester Arthur went to Albany to help Conkling in his campaign.

While he was there, the unthinkable happened. On July 2, 1881, James Garfield was shot at a train station by Charles Guiteau, an insane office-seeker. Guiteau had come to the White House every day for months seeking an appointment under the spoils system. When that failed, he decided God wanted him to get Garfield out of the way so the spoils system could continue. After he shot the president, Giteau shouted, “I am a Stalwart, and Arthur will be president!”

As you can imagine, that made things really bad for Arthur. He’d just spent months fighting the president tooth and nail, and the assassin had mentioned his name. Plenty of people thought Arthur had something to do with the shooting. He and Conkling both needed police details to protect them from lynch mobs.

Arthur didn’t want to be president; in his mind, vice president was the perfect job—a position with a lot of political leverage, but no responsibility. He went to the White House hoping to convince Garfield that he had nothing to do with the shooting, but the doctors wouldn’t let him in the room. He managed to speak to the First Lady, where he got choked up with emotion and was observed to be in tears. A reporter later found him in the house where he was staying in Washington, and noted he'd obviously been weeping.

To Arthur’s relief, Garfield seemed to get better. The bullet had missed his spinal cord and all his major organs. If he’d been left alone, Garfield would have made a complete recovery. Unfortunately, his doctors repeatedly prodded the bullet wound with unsterilized instruments, and Garfield fell victim to a massive infection. He lingered for months, slowly starving and rotting to death.

Through all this, Arthur stayed in New York and refused to take up presidential duties; with so many people accusing him of the assassination, he didn’t want to make it look like he was preparing to usurp the throne.

It eventually became clear that the assassin had acted alone, which laid the rumors to rest, but no one wanted Arthur to be president. James Garfield had been a man of the people. The working class considered him one of their own, proof that anyone could rise from poverty and become president. He was an idealist, a champion of civil rights, a family man who lived modestly. For the first time since the Civil War, a president had been supported by both the north and the south, and the country had come together in grief. Chester Arthur was Garfield’s exact opposite—a conniving political lackey who’d become a millionaire through corruption.

James Garfield died on September 19th. To the American people, it looked like their worst nightmare had come true. Conkling’s lackey was in the White House, and now Conkling would rule the nation the same way he’d ruled New York.

Yet, to everyone’s surprise, President Chester Arthur became a completely different man. In one of his first speeches, he listed civil service reform as one of his top priorities—a shocking move for a man who’d become president through the spoils system. Soon after Arthur’s inauguration, Conkling demanded he name a new Controller of the Port of New York. Arthur angrily refused and called Conkling’s demand outrageous. Conkling stormed out in fury and never forgave Arthur. (Arthur did later risk his reputation to nominate Conkling for the Supreme Court, but Conkling, ever petty, refused the position.)

Arthur didn’t have a complete personality transplant. He still lived lavishly, hosting lots of state dinners. He still preferred the social duties of the presidency to actual government work, and he was a hopeless procrastinator. Always fastidious, Arthur refused to move in to the rotting, rat-infested White House until they fixed up the dump, and he ran up extravagant bills during the remodel.

Yet, as a president, he was...respectable. He worked for African-American civil rights. He started a major process of rebuilding and reforming the outdated and corrupt navy. He did sign the Chinese Exclusion Act, but he had vetoed an earlier, harsher version and only signed a much-reduced one (that probably would have been voted in anyway if he’d vetoed it). That remodel of the White House, even if it ran over-budget, was long overdue.

Most shocking of all was his unswerving devotion to civil service reform. He continued an investigation into a government postal scandal, even though everyone assumed he’d drop it. He voiced his continuing support for reform efforts. In 1883, Arthur signed the Pendleton Civil Service Reform Act. As written, the act required only 10% of federal jobs to be assigned based on merit, and even that required the president to take action to enforce it. People assumed that Arthur would sit back and do nothing, so the spoils system would remain in place. Yet Arthur immediately formed a commission to enact the reform, even appointing some of his old enemies. The man who’d benefited most from the spoils system became the one to finally destroy it.

How do we explain such a complete and sudden change? Part of it’s a matter of personality. If I can indulge in a bit of meta, Chester Arthur seems to be a textbook example of the sanguine-phlegmatic temperament—someone who wants to fit in with the crowd, to go with the flow. As a political lackey, this made him self-serving and amoral, but as president, the crowd he had to impress was the American people. After months of getting crucified in the press, with tons of articles saying what they didn’t want him to be, he’d have plenty of motivation to become what they did want him to be.

A more important motivation, though, was death. His wife’s death was likely the first shock that would make him step back and take stock of his political career. Garfield’s death had an even more profound influence on him. The spoils system had led a madman to murder a president in Arthur’s name; if anything could motivate a man to change the system, that would be it. Even more profound than that was his own death. Not long after entering the White House, Arthur was diagnosed with a fatal kidney disease. He hid the diagnosis during his term, but his actions in office were the actions of a man doomed to die, with a mind toward the legacy he’d leave behind.

Yet there’s another stranger, more mysterious influence that I’ve left to last because of how cool the story is. The day before his death, Chester Arthur—who’d become ashamed of his old life—asked a friend to burn the vast majority of his papers. Years later, among the papers that had been spared, his grandson uncovered a packet of twenty-three letters from a 31-year-old invalid named Julia Sand. Julia came from a family very interested in politics, and her illness meant that she spent a lot of time reading the newspapers, so she was familiar with Chester Arthur’s political career. In August of 1881, she sent Chester Arthur a letter that began, “The hours of Garfield's life are numbered—before this meets your eye, you may be President. The people are bowed in grief; but—do you realize it?--not so much because he is dying, as because you are his successor.” Over seven pages, Julia scolded Arthur for his corrupt ways, but assured him of her faith in his better nature, and urged him to reform. She sent letters over the next two years, full of encouragement and scolding and political advice. She called herself his “little dwarf”, because her lack of ties to him meant she could be completely honest with him.

There’s no evidence he ever answered her. But she did offer some rather specific political advice that he seems to have followed. And he did visit her once. In 1882, he stopped by her house in the presidential carriage, surprising her and her family (who had no idea she’d been writing to the president) with an hour-long visit. She seemed to grow more frustrated with his lack of answers after that, and no letter exists after 1883.

There’s no way to say what kind of effect the letters had on him. But amid all the turmoil after the assassination, it must have meant something to have one voice saying she believed in him. She was a voice from outside the Washington political machine, who could serve as a sort of conscience. The fact that those letters survived when so much else burned suggests he considered them worth saving.

No matter the reason, the truth remains that Arthur entered the presidency as an example of all that was dirty and loathsome in the political system, and he left it as a respectable man. In giving up his old ways, he sacrificed connections he’d spent years building. His old friends never forgave him, and his old opponents never quite trusted his reform, yet he did what he thought was right even if it meant he stood alone. In summing up his presidency, I don’t think I can do better than contemporary journalist Alexander McClure: “No man ever entered the Presidency so profoundly and widely distrusted as Chester Alan Arthur, and no one ever retired... more generally respected, alike by political friend and foe.” I think that deserves to be remembered.

#history is awesome #presidential talk #i apologize but i really can't see any way to cut this down #i like the detour into garfield's nomination #i can't cut conkling out any more than i have #i can't leave out his wife #i didn't even mention that he was washington's most eligible bachelor during his term but he remained faithful to her memory #or that his sister served as hostess at the white house and helped raise his daughter (who he protected from the press as best he could)#or that he did make a half-hearted attempt to seek re-election so people wouldn't think he was slinking off in disgrace #and there was some support for him #but he didn't mind at all when someone else was nominated because he was dealing with his kidney disease #and he died in 1886 #which means he had the shortest post-presidency life of anyone except james k. polk who died three months after leaving office #i did not come into last week thinking that by the end of it i'd have developed a minor specialization #in the presidency of a guy i knew only for his facial hair and his half-verse in the animaniacs song #i didn't even mention the facial hair!#go to wikipedia and see his glorious muttonchops!#say what you will about the victorians but they had wild facial hair game #but anyway here is the life story of my impeccably dressed trash panda son #who is put together on the outside and a mess on the inside #and still manages to maintain a certain dignity despite how pathetic he is #he's a mess of a human being but i love him your honor

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dragonmuse · 1 year

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I have decided my prompt! Can I please have Pete, Lucius, and Izzy having a sleepover for some reason? (Maybe the apartment is being fumigated or the carpet is being replaced or something and Pete stays with Luc and Izzy?) Bonus points if one of them makes them all do traditional sleepover stuff. Also feel free to include any of the other Callahan gang!!!

(ook so this prompt was adorable and I started in on it right away and it's uh...a little past ficlet length. enjoy!)

He was halfway through making his lunches for the week when his phone buzzed. It was Lucius’ vibration pattern, two long, one short. Sundays were a weird day for him to be calling. Really calling at all. Lucius preferred to text, even if just to ask if he could call.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“Our heat went out,” Lucius groaned, not even pretending everything was fine for a ribbing bit about Izzy’s phone manners. Yikes. “Two hours ago.”

“Shit.” It was a frigid night, the kind that burrowed into the bones. “What happened?”

“Don’t know yet, our landlord is still waiting on the repair tech. Apparently a lot of furnaces are failing with cold snap.”

“Come over.”

“Yeah, that’s the plan, but can I bring Pete? John and Frenchie are going to sleep in Roach’s weird second bedroom. Jim and Oluwande offered their futon-”

“It’s fine, pup.”

“Oh thank fuck, I really did not want him to be on that shitty futon. Thank you.”

“Did you eat?” Izzy asked, already mentally ticking over what was in the fridge.

“We had a lot of soup. Eating hot things was helping. Maybe just put on some decaf?”

“I can do that.”

“Kay, we’ll be there in a half hour.”

Izzy finished his lunch prep, then pushed the coffee table out of the way so they could pull out the bed when they were ready to sleep. Clean linens, blankets and pillows went out onto the coffee table in easy reach.

What the hell did one else do to prepare for an overnight guest? Last time Pete had slept over, Lucius had taken care of everything because Izzy had been concussed into uselessness.

Izzy made a pot of decaf. He washed and put away his dishes. Everything was spotless, his cleaning lady had been by just that morning. He stood uselessly in the kitchen, listening to the coffee percolate.

Izzy: emergency overnight guest. Necessities?

Mary: clean place to sleep, food and drink if needed, listening ear. Should be fine.

Izzy: thanks. how’d did Doug’s blondies go over?

Mary: he’s the king of the bake sale. The president of the PTA hit on him. I had to intervene so he didn’t blush himself to death.

Izzy: she hit on him in front of you? at a school event? Hilda really is a total waste of space.

Mary: I keep telling you. The worst. Your plan is working though. I’ll have her ousted by the end of the year.

Izzy: good.

That was when he heard the elevator. Phone back in his pocket, he got down mugs. Pete took sugar, he was pretty sure, so he put that in easy reach too.

The key turned in the lock and Lucius came in with Pete hot on his heels. Usually, Izzy would expect a hello kiss. Would he still get one? Was that weird just now?

“Hi,” Lucius groaned, crossed the room and kissed him thoroughly. Not weird. Izzy relaxed a few notches. “Thank you. I know this isn’t your favorite.”

“It’s okay,” he said readily. “There’s decaf. And clean things for the couch when you’re ready for it.”

“Beautiful,” Lucius sighed and kissed him again, then turned to coffemaker.

“Hi,” Pete had a duffel bag with him, slung over his shoulder. “We going to kiss hello too? Because I don’t do tongue unless you’re going to put out.”

“Fuck off, Black,” Izzy huffed out a laugh which made Pete grin, apparently his intent. “Put your shit down and don’t trample my cat.”

“Like Sweeney will make an appearance?” Lucius scoffed. “He’s probably trying to become one with the floor under your bed already.”

“Probably,” Izzy agreed.

“Hello couch!” Pete was saying. “We meet again. I’ve missed your warm embrace.”

“He wants to replace our living room couch,” Lucius shook his head. “So, you going to go hide with the cat or watch a movie with us?”

“I have a choice?”

“You have a choice.”

Izzy watched Lucius pour coffee, retrieving the small container of whole milk that only existed for him in the first place. This was Lucius’ home. Pete was a guest, but Lucius could host as easily as Izzy, he realized. He really could just go read in the bedroom and it wouldn’t be that weird. No one would care. Lucius would tease him, but what didn’t Lucius tease him about?

“What movie?”

“Babe! What are we watching again?”

“Uh, depends if I can remember my Hulu password or not. Izzy doesn’t have it,” Pete had the tv on already, flipping through the apps.

“We don’t?” Lucius glanced at Izzy.

“Just Netflix.”

“Huh, I never noticed. Guess because of the cable. Oh, babe! Izzy has cable. Just check on demand!”

“Cable?” Pete’s eyes went wide. “Wait, does that mean you have HBO?”

“Yeah, I’m a high fucking roller.”

“Oh shit,” Lucius groaned. “He’s been trying to get me to watch Game of Thrones forever.”

“The one with the dragons and tits?” Izzy frowned.

“That’s what I said. But apparently there’s a plot or something. Save me.”

Instead, Izzy sat on one of the couch while Lucius after a moment’s hesitation, realized he was in prime position to get the most out of his lifestyle choices for once, dropping his head onto Pete’s lap and his feet onto Izzy’s so he could get his hair pet and his feet rubbed at the same time.

“I don’t care if this show sucks ass, this is the best day of my life,” Lucius declared.

“The show doesn’t suck,” Pete rolled his eyes, turning it on. “And you said it was the worst day of your life two hours ago.”

“I was cold and no one would huddle with me for warmth.”

“I had to use the bathroom, babe.”

“Cruel abandonment.”

Izzy really hoped neither of them noticed the trouble he was having maintaining a neutral facial expression. They were fools, but they were very entertaining ones at the moment. Then the show got underway and Izzy mostly admired the fuckoff huge swords until things got weird.

“Wait. Aren’t they related?” Lucius asked and Izzy was relieved he didn’t have to be the one to voice it.

“Oh yeah, it’s a whole thing.”

Another few minutes and Izzy’s eyes went wide, “Did he just kill that kid?”

“To keep their secret! Awful right?”

“That’s so fucking stupid,” Izzy shook his head. “Kids are terrible witnesses, you just pull the little bastard inside and throw a lot of details at him until he gets confused, so he sounds weird when he tries to explain then send him on his way. You kill a kid and everyone is looking for the kid killer. It fucks up the whole thing.”

“...and it’s bad to kill kids,” Lucius filled in.

“Well fucking obviously.”

“How do you watch any kind of tv with him?” Pete asked, with what sounded like awe.

“It’s awesome,” Lucius grinned. “I learn so many new things.”

“That’s like the literal plot of the first season.”

“Yeah, cause no one else could see it coming that offing a kid is a bad idea,” Izzy huffed.

The show was grim. People were terrible and did terrible things to each other. Lucius fell asleep halfway through the second episode, apparently as a defense mechanism considering his constant grumbling.

“Does it stay like this the whole time?” Izzy asked.

“Uh, mostly? Don’t watch the last season because everyone said it was a let down.”

“Huh. Not bad,” he decided. “Might watch more.”

“I’ve got a feeling I know who you’ll wind up liking the best,” Pete grinned.

“Yeah?” Izzy wrinkled his nose. “Who?”

“No, if I tell you now, you won’t believe me.”

(It took Izzy two months to work through the show.

“Okay,” he asked as he spotted Pete on the bench press. “Who did you think would be my favorite?”

“Jaime Lannister.”

“How the fuck did you know that?”

“Let’s call it a lucky guess.”

“Who was yours?”

“Davos Seaworth.”

“Yeah, okay, good pick.” )

As soon as the noise of the show stopped, Lucius was awake. “Now I’m kind of hungry.”

“Me too,” Pete stretched. “Soup wasn’t that filling.”

“Oh! Iz, can we have toddler charcuterie?”

“What’s that?” Pete blinked.

“An Izzy special,” Lucius said solemnly.

“Read is a blabbing brat,” Izzy determined. “But yeah, fine. I could eat too.”

As soon as he was on his feet, Lucius was too, pulling down plates and cutting up the cheese while Izzy got down the crackers and found the remains of the salami that Pickles routinely devoured like it was going out of style.

“Strawberries or grapes?” He checked in.

“Grapes, thanks,” Pete watched them both with a small smile.

“What?” Izzy set down a plate in front of him.

“Nothing. It’s just nice, that’s all. Don’t get to see you two being all domestic.”

“Is it domestic if one of us isn’t fully domesticated?” Lucuis teased.

“You’ll get the hang of not biting eventually,” Izzy muttered and Pete barked out a laugh.

“Mean, so mean,” Lucius said around his own giggles. “And you wouldn’t want me to, anyway.”

The final plate looked almost like it was actually for adults, if Lucius hadn’t arranged the salami into eyes and the cheese into a lopsided smile.

“Why?” Izzy asked, aggrieved.

“So I can do this,” Pete picked up one salami eye and replaced it with a grape, “He’s a pirate now! Salami is an eyepatch.”

Izzy rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand.

“Adorable,” Lucius deemed and started in on the cheese. “Oh, hey, babe, I can show you that cute pharmacy I always tell you about in the morning.”

“Which one?” Izzy blinked.

“You know that one that’s all old timey and does the nice window displays.”

“It’s just not owned by a massive chain,” Izzy shrugged. “Not really sure how they managed that.”

“It’s family-owned and the family owns the whole building,” Lucius picked up a cracker. “The girl with the Marilyn Monroe piercing, who works the register, told me when I asked.”

“Cool, I’ve got some things I could pick up,” Pete said.

“Wait that’s what that piercing is called?” Izzy caught up with the rest of Lucius’ statement. “Why?”

“Cause Marilyn Monroe had a mole there and people have thought it was cool for forever, apparently.”

“Isn’t that painful?”

“Don’t look at me, I’m not the one who got bathtub tattoos.”

“Come on,” Pete’s eyebrows went up. “You didn’t get your tattoos done in a bathtub?”

“No,” Izzy said primly, suddenly very interested in the cheese.

“Oh, I’m sorry, a bathtub might’ve been too practical,” Lucius rolled his eyes. “Bathroom floor, obviously better.”

“That was just the dagger,” he muttered.

“But you’re such a clean freak!” Pete protested.

“I was younger. Probably dumber. Definitely drunker.”

“My entire world no longer makes sense,” Pete said mournfully and finished eating his salami.

Lucius phone buzzed and he took it out, “Okay, so apparently the furnace blew...something. Anyway, they can get someone in to fix it tomorrow. So lucky you, goblin, just a hot one night stand.”

“If they get the part,” Izzy pointed out. “Either way. It’s fine.”

“Even though I’m exposing all your literally dirty secrets?”

“Yes, pup,” he touched Lucius’ wrist with a single finger, a brief point of contact. “Pete told me you two talk about me a long time ago. Figured I didn’t have many of those kinds of secrets left.”

“Pete!”

“What?” Pete asked around around a cracker. “Don’t you talk about me to him?”

“I mean, yeah, obviously,” Lucius frowned. “But I figured that was an open secret kind of thing where we don’t acknowledge it.”

Pete shrugged, “It’s not like you’re blabbing the important stuff.”

“Yeah,” Izzy agreed. “Probably be fucking weird if you never mentioned us to each other.”

“Wait.” Lucius took a step back and looked between them. “You totally gossip about me when you’re being all tough and manly at the gym, don’t you?”

“No,” they said in unison and it took everything in Izzy not to turn and glare at Pete for the distinct panic in his voice.

“Oh my god, how did I never realize that,” Lucius considered then beamed. “That’s so fucking cool. I know it’s not sex stuff because Izzy would rather die, so it’s gotta be cute other shit. Do you complain about me?”

Pete wisely said nothing and let Izzy handle that one with his interrogation-trained blankness, “Never.”

“Oooooh you do!” Lucius giggled. “Wow. Amazing.”

“You’re happy about that?” Pete checked.

“I mean, obviously I’m flawless and amazing, but I have been told by some people in this very room that I have a few irritating habits. If you two bitch at each other about them instead of at me, I think that’s a win-win.”

Izzy turned fractionally to stare at Pete until he went wide eyed and gave a nod. The truth would never be known: That they pretty much never managed to really complain because the complaints turned to endearment almost immediately. Lucius was too...Lucius for them to work up much shared annoyance. If they mostly just talked about how much they liked him and then agreed the conversation was untenable in its sickly sweetness and changed topics, that was their business.

“Sure, we all win, sweetie,” Pete managed to say with a mostly straight face. Good enough.

“You know if this is just one night, then it’s basically a sleepover,” Lucius pointed out, apparently done gnawing on that conversational bone for now. “We should do sleepover stuff?”

“Like what?” Pete grinned. “Gonna have a pillow fight? Do each other’s nails?”

“Play truth or dare?” Lucius suggested with an equally playful grin.

“None of that ends well for me,” Izzy determined.

“What do you mean?” Lucius lifted his eyebrows.

“Either my pillows get fucked or I accidently give one of you a black eye. I wind up with nail polish on and Eddy gives me the business for the next 500 years. And the two of you have no fucking shame, so it would be easy to gang up on me for truth or dare with you would absolutely do.”

“...yeah, that’s true,” Pete conceded. “We really would.”

“Aw, no fun,” Lucius gusted out a sigh. “What do people even do at sleepovers if they’re not fucking?”

“When I was a kid, mostly we kind of tortured each other,” Pete considered. “Whoever fell asleep first got covered in marker and we put their hands in warm water or shaving cream or something.”

“Don’t think I did a lot of them,” Izzy turned over memories. “Yeah, no. Stay out all night when I was older, but not sleepovers.”

“What’d you just roam the city streets?” Pete asked.

“Sure. Still shit, break windows. One guy I knew was pretty good with spray paint.”

“Hooligan,” Lucius deemed. “Sounds fun. You never got picked up?”

“Nah. We’d just scatter if we saw a cop car. They didn’t bother trying after a block or two to really nail us.”

“What about you, babe? Sleepovers?”

“No,” Lucius popped a piece of cheese in his mouth. “When I was younger Mom wouldn’t let me and once we were teenagers, didn’t have any guy friends and girls weren’t allowed to have me stay the night.”

They were all quiet for a minute.

“Wait!” Pete set down the cracker sandwich he’d been building. “Do you think that pharmacy is open now?”

“Yeah, they go until midnight,” Izzy said. “But it’s just a store.”

“Okay, sure, but one of the things we used to do was take like a few dollars and go to the corner store and see who could buy the coolest thing for less than five bucks.”

“How small was your town?” Izzy asked incredulously.

“Shut up. Small,” Pete huffed. “But it’s fun. Come on.”

“Make it ten,” Lucius grinned. “You know that nothing costs five dollars anymore.”

Which was how Izzy found himself in a pharmacy after ten o’clock at night, without actually needing emergency medical supplies for the first time in years. He hadn’t really thought much about what a place this sold that wasn’t advil, but as he went up and down the aisles there was a surprising amount of food. Pete had located a toy section and poking delightedly at some truly hideous stuffed animals. Lucius was standing in front of a wall of school supplies, apparently already having forgotten what they’d set out to do as he studied a set of colored pencils with his eyebrows knit together.

Izzy left them to it and went to where he’d been planning to go since Pete suggested the whole ridiculous idea anyway. He faced the display, gave a resigned sigh and picked up the item. Truly he had left behind any shred of dignity he’d once desperately clung too in the Revenge’s alleyway.

He bought his item first by a long shot and took his bag outside to wait. Pete came out, looking pleased with himself.

“Who’s going to judge this shit?” Izzy realized.

“Eh, there’s usually an obvious winner.”

“Seems like a way to start an argument.”

“Oh, probably. We can dial a friend to tiebreak if we need to. Everyone is probably still awake.”

Izzy was usually already in bed at this time unless he was waiting up for Lucius. Revenge people ran on a different time zone, he figured. Lucius drifted out a few minutes later and they wound up back where they’d started, with the already much depleted cheese platter once more under attack.

“Your idea, babe, you go first,” Lucius declared.

“Look at this baby,” Pete pulled out a very small plastic trashcan with a bright label. “Trashbot!”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a bot made of things found in the trash, but it’s a surprise which one you get,” he handed it to Izzy.

“Why?” He turned it over in his hands. It rattled a little, making its contents known.

“Fun. It’s a toy. You put it together, it’s a surprise, and it’s probably got a pun name.”

Izzy handed it off to Lucius, who also shook it, “I never got the garbage obsession. Garbage Can Kids were a thing when I was middle school too.”

“Gross stuff was the best,” Pete sighed, taking it back from him. “Let me build it, you’ll see. What’d you get babe?”

“Kind of also went the kid way,” he pulled out a box of markers, familiar in their bright yellow and green packaging. Then he pulled out the little notebook/sketchpad he tended to keep on him. “I always wanted these.”

“Markers?” Pete asked dubiously. “You definitely had markers.”

“Not these.” Lucius pulled out the purple, uncapped it and pressed down. When he pulled up there was a little paw print. “Stampers!”

“Are they all animal prints?” Izzy regarded the box, already guessing who’s hands those would wind up in. Pickle would be delighted.

“Hearts, stars, other little things,” Lucius made a convincing trail of paw prints. “Look how cute!”

“Very,” Pete agreed, as he worked the plastic off his toy. “Izzy?”

He set the bag down and without comment pulled out a single glass bottle of nail polish (black because black was still cool and he did have a tiny sliver of dignity left maybe).

“Awww!” Lucius snatched it up. “Izzy wins.”

“Misdirection,” Pete accused.

“Eddy already gives me a hard time and probably won’t stop until both of us are dead,” Izzy shrugged. “So it’s still true.”

“I get to do yours?” Lucius bounced on his feet.

“Yeah, yeah.”

It didn’t look bad, actually. It did mean they wound up watching something else why they dried. Pete didn’t get his done, but only because he apparently had to put on pressons tomorrow for his act so they’d only get ruined. He did do Lucius’ for him and they looked good on him too.

Izzy cracked a yawn halfway through whatever movie it was that Lucius had picked out to watch during those goings on.

“Head to bed,” Lucius elbowed him. “I’ll get the food.”

“Yeah,” he touched one nail gingerly and found it dry. “Night, pup. Pete.”

He got to his feet and used the restroom. The flashes of black while he brushed his teeth were distracting , but not bad. When he walked into his bedroom, he found Lucius sitting on the bed.

“Thought you’d take the couch. Pete’s night.”

“I am,” Lucius reached for him and Izzy walked right into the circle of his arms. “But I wanted a kiss good night. The good kind and I figured you’d want privacy.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out than leaned down to get the very long, detailed kind of kiss that sometimes signaled the end of their evenings, but more often started them off. “Good night, pup.”

Lucius dusted another kiss over Izzy’s cheek, gently pushed him back and stood. “Good night, goblin. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

And it was weirdly not that weird to watch him leave and listen to him and Pete talk in the other room. It was fine to turn off the light and get under the covers, knowing they were both still awake and his bed would stay empty. It would’ve been empty tonight anyway, but he’d gotten kissed and there’d been conversation and company. It wasn’t so bad.

“Mew,” Sweeney jumped up onto the bed and started kneading the spot by Izzy’s feet where he usually slept.

Izzy fell asleep even with the little noises in the other room. In the morning, Pete just walked to the gym with him and Read (who made lots of sympathetic noises upon hearing about the furnace) and it wasn’t that different from days they met up there.

When he got to work, Jim zeroed on his hands almost immediately. They grinned.

“Have a fun sleepover, boss?”

“No thanks to you and your piece of shit futon.”

“Why do you think I have a piece of shit futon?” They rolled their eyes. “Looks good, any way.”

It wasn’t like it became a thing or anything. But maybe once and a while, Izzy would crack open the bottle on his own. The smell held good memories now.

#leda house and the kraken verse #ficlet #goblin king and the pup #lucius black #izzy hands #pete black #I need a tag for the three of them in the mainverse

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sparklecryptid · 1 year

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Great now I’m just thinking about broken ice!Luche again and how Noctis would react to learning that his not-dad magic teacher is his sister

#a darkness born in youth verse #it puts a whole new light on how Luche treated him!#and sometime when she looked at him it looked like there was something she wanted to tell him #but couldn’t #and now Noctis over analyzes every interaction between them #Luche meanwhile is spending three days passed out in one of Ardyns various safe houses

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antlsepticeye · 9 months

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Writing Commissions!

hi guys! this is a lil area for my writing comms!

comms. status —> OPEN!

FORM: https://forms.gle/xFxun1pZCk6xcqbEA

PRICES❕:

1k-5k words —> $10

5k-10k —> $15

10k-15k —> $20

15k-20k —> $25

20k+ —> can be discussed!

more info down below!

HARD LIMITS: anything deemed morally wrong (proships, incest, etc.), graphic gore and/or violence, RPF

SOFT LIMITS: nsfw (i am willing to write a lead-up to, but not the deed itself)

FANDOMS I WILL WRITE FOR:

percy jackson, harry potter, bbc merlin, spider-verse, mcu, fire emblem (awakening, fates, three houses), hades, ib, corpse party, madoka magica, free!, love live!, jacksepticeye egos & markiplier egos (NOT RPF!), vocaloid (including in-song-universe (ex.: the story of evil))

I AM WILLING TO WRITE FOR OTHER FANDOMS SO LONG AS I AM GIVEN CHARACTERIZATION AND A GENERAL IDEA OF THE MEDIA!

if you want to check out my works, my ao3 is the same as my tumblr (antlsepticeye)! (https://archiveofourown.org/users/antlsepticeye)

thank you lovelies!💓

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dragon-clan-and-company · 8 months

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From Verdant Winds to Azure Moons

(Closed rp with @oc-menagerie)

Early in the morning at Garreg Mach, a set of crimson eyes shoot open. With a brief stretch, and lungs drawing in precious air, a young man emerges from bed. After a bit of brief stretching, he takes a look in the mirror. Crimson eyes aside, a scar adorned the young man's left cheek. A set of messy brunette hair was quickly tied back and kept mostly in check with the use of a black bandanna. After getting dressed properly, he compiles a few notes, and brews a cup of sweet fruit tea, before departing. He sets the cup and the collection of notes on a barrel just outside the door of his charge, Lysithea von Ordelia. With a brief, loud knock on the door to her dorm room, me departed, heading down to Abyss to help some of the less fortunate down in that area for a few hours, and taking a bit of time to study in their libraries.

"Wow, Claude was right... There really is taboo subjects down here... Maybe I could find something about removing crests if I look hard enough... But, not today- I've quite a list of tasks ahead of me yet..." Returning topside from Abyss, the crimson eyed man took care of some additional chores in his, and Lysithea's quarters. After a brief tea break with Sylvain, he now began approaching one of the last people he's had a chance to meet in his class since recently transferring from Golden Deer to Blue Lions. He managed to spot her, and began to approach.

"Excuse me, miss Fotieni! Apologies to bother ya... I haven't had a chance to introduce myself properly yet... I'm Layle Drakeus, lady Lysithea's retainer as appointed by Count Ordelia before our arrival at the Monastery. Since Lady Lysithea decided to transfer classes, I figured she prolly had th' right idea... Well that and I didn't like the way Professer Manuela glanced at me..." He chuckles nervously. Though not the tallest at Garreg Mach, he stood likely a few inches shy of six feet with a build to accommodate combat... But he greets Diana with a friendly grin.

"It's my sincere hope we'll get along during our time at the Monastery!"

#muse: layle drakeus #verse: fire emblem three houses

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mikaharuka · 11 months

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Desiderium - Official Post

This one is... special. For those of you who don't already know, Fire Emblem Three Houses was the fandom I started out in, almost 4 years ago - with Hubert/Ferdinand (Ferdibert), to be exact. Real life got busy and I stopped writing 3 years ago. Of course, I picked up my gay Twilight/LnD rewrite and world, and started posting last year.

Two weeks ago, I was cleaning out my Google Drive and noticed a huge folder of all these Ferdibert (+Edelthea) ideas that I'd outlined, and I thought that I might finish those if the inspiration struck.

So here I am. Having returned to Ferdibert with this new mini-series "Another World". It'll have six fics to it by the end - a trio each for Hubert/Ferdinand and Edelgard/Dorothea alike, 900 words per fic.

Title: Desiderium (Part 1 of 6, Another World - Ferdibert 1 of 3)

Author: Mizuka

Rating: Mature (no smut in this entry)

Category: M/M

Word Count: 900 words

Summary: A complicated thread of fate binds Hubert and Ferdinand, leaving them with thoughts of another future.

Notes: This contains canonical MCD, as this fic is canon-compliant and follows Claude's route... however, it isn't quite traditional. Reincarnation is a major component of this series (hence the series name "Another World"). As such, while the fic has real MCD and a sad ending, it also has a notably bittersweet and hopeful tone. The overall series does have an unambiguously happy ending.

(Tagging because you might be interested? Not sure tbh, since this is new, so let me know if I missed you! @mrsmungus, @udaberriwrites, @magma-saarebas19, @aislinnstanaka, @writingpotato07, @lena-hills, @hylianjo, @bees-and-sunshine, @tsunderewatermelon, @bleepbloopbotz @axolotlsupremacyowo, @kayedium-writes, @sliebman10 @danceswithdarkspawn @precambrian-sea-pancake)

#fe3h #fire emblem #three houses #ferdibert #hubert x ferdinand #ferdinand x hubert #hubert von vestra #ferdinand von aegir #slash fic #slash fanfiction #fe3h fanfic #fe3h hubert #fe3h ferdinand #mizuka's fe3h stuff #another future verse #reincarnation au #canon character death

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sylviareviar · 3 months

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NAME: Sylvia Reviar

AGE: 16

SPECIES: Human

GENDER: Female

ORIENTATION: Panromantic demisexual

PROFESSION: Student, animal shelter volunteer, Phantom Thief (Persona 5 verse), Pokemon rehab researcher and Pokemon Trainer (Pokemon verse), turbo duelist (Yu-Gi-Oh! verse), mage or bard (Fire Emblem or other fantasy verses)

—————————————————————————- { PHYSICAL ASPECTS }

BODY TYPE: Short and slender. Depending on the verse, if she does any kind of fighting, she sticks to moving quickly and avoiding attacks by nimbly dodging, and doesn't hit hard as a result, but her magic stat is usually pretty high.

EYES: Cerulean blue

SKIN: Very light white, a little pinkish, with freckles on her cheeks and nose, and a little bit on her shoulders.

HEIGHT: 4'11. Like I said, she's teeny-tiny.

—————————————————————————- { FAMILY }

FAMILY: She's adopted, so she doesn't have any distant relatives, however Khari Reviar is her adopted father. He doesn't have any siblings or living parents, though. In the YGO verse, she has an adopted grandfather named Klaus. That's the only verse where her family is different.

SIBLINGS: Jack Reviar, her older brother, and Lucy Reviar, her younger sister. Despite being in the middle, Lucy has often stepped up to protect her, making Sylvia sort of the youngest in spirit. In YGO, she doesn't have any blood related siblings, but Toru is her adopted brother.

ANY PETS?: Typically, no, but depending on the verse, she may have a pet horse living with her family. In P5 and YGO, her family owns a farm, and one horse she has bonded particularly close with is a black horse named Opal. In the Pokemon verse, of course, there are lots of Pokemon around her. In fantasy verses, she has a pet raven named Fleck. In Fire Emblem, she has no pets, but I may give her Opal again as a mount.

—————————————————————————- { SKILLS }

Sylvia is an artist who tends to be a jack of all trades. While her forte isn't in physical activity or movement, her real strengths lie in her love of art, music, writing, acting, and playing. In every verse, what makes her unique is her ability to skillfully draw and play music or sing. Whenever she is in combat, she usually also has surprisingly strong magical powers, sometimes to the point that it's difficult for her to control them, and they can end up going wild and hurting her or the people around her as a result. She is also rather intelligent, and gets high grades consistently in class, but because of her autism and undiagnosed ADHD, she relies quite a bit on accommodations such as extended test time or wearing headphones while studying. Her creative mind makes it so she is never bored when she's alone, meaning she doesn't often seek out other people, but gets lonely more easily as a result. When she gets so caught up in her own world, it's sometimes difficult to pull her out of it without startling her.

—————————————————————————- { LIKES }

COLORS: Pink, white, blue, purple, and any pastel color

SMELLS: Fresh baked bread, berries and fruits, any kind of evergreen, flowers such as roses, lavender, and cherry blossom, and snow.

SOUNDS: River water, cats meowing, music (in particular, she loves higher-pitched melodic sounds, like glockenspiel, music boxes, and flute), the sound of hooves or heels on the hard ground (for some reason it's just satisfying), and the sound of using a keyboard.

TEXTURES: Anything super soft and fluffy or fuzzy, like blankets, hoodies, and fur.

FOOD: She likes many kinds of food, but her absolute favorite are steak, as well as pomegranates and blueberries.

ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES?: yes [ ] || rarely [ ] || no [X]

FAVORITES: Anything that looks beautiful. She loves the stars, the sky, flowers, animals, the sea, what lies beneath the sea, friendships, sunsets, anything within which she can find beauty, she loves. She also likes happy endings in stories, and fairy tales that sometimes put a twist on the story, and she loves games with colorful aesthetics and graphics. So long as it's cute, most likely she likes it.

—————————————————————————- { OTHER DETAILS }

SMOKES?: yes [ ] || no [X] || occasionally [ ]

DRUGS?: yes [ ] || no (unless they're prescribed) [X] || occasionally [ ]

DRIVER LICENSE?: yes (Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's verse) [X] || no (most other verses, but she can drive a tractor in Persona) [X]

EVER BEEN ARRESTED?: no [X] || yes [ ] || almost/detained [ ]

—————————————————————————-

DONE. now tag other 15 people to do it.

Oh god I don't think I even know that many people. Ok if you're a multimuse just choose whichever muse you want.

Tagging: @electricea @tvstarkuma @the-flower-karasu @phantomuheist @tophatz @jokerxkurusu @nijimx @silver-strings-of-fate @webbedphantom @orphemiss If I missed you just assume I tagged you too because I genuinely can't remember everyone off the top of my head.

tagged by: @tres-fidelis

#🌸 ~ out of character ~ 🌸#🌸 ~ persona 5 verse ~ 🌸#🌸 ~ pokemon verse ~ 🌸#🌸 ~ Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's verse ~ 🌸#🌸 ~ Fire Emblem New Mystery verse ~ 🌸#🌸 ~ Fire Emblem Three Houses verse ~ 🌸

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