#Archives of the Bastille

[the-chomsky-hash]

[fictional-library-tournament]

Prelims round 1, poll 18

Propaganda

The Archives, The Kingkiller Chronicle by Patrick Rothfuss

I swear I've wanted to get here as much as Kvothe

There's a huge door in there and we have no idea what's behind them. Also one dude just lives in there

Death's library, The Discworld series by Terry Pratchett

Death’s library contains the life stories of every person, living or dead. They write themselves.

The Royal Academy Library, Ascendance of a Bookworm series by Miya Kazuki and You Shiina

It has cute magical rabbit library assistants that help the librarians/patrons with finding books, working circ desk, reshelving, securing the library, etc. On the surface, it's a school library focusing on materials for Royal Academy students and archives of research/curriculum material from its professors. Some other neat magical aspects of this library include automatic humidity management (to prevent moisture damage to documents), time-stopping shelves (to prevent old documents from rotting away), sunlight protection magic (keep natural lighting from large windows while protecting documents from light damage), magical lighting (will start showering down multi-colored lights to let students realise the time if they're too engrossed in reading), sound-dampening carpets, and instant floor cleaning. The protagonist is also helping invent new magic tools for the library including a function where books automatically teleport to their spot on the shelves. Explaining fully how amazing and critically important this library is to their world would be spoilers. There's a lot going on in certain hidden/forgotten about parts of this library. Let's just say when the symbol of a true king is possessing a certain divine magical book that acts as the keys to the country, knowledge is power. The author and protagonist are both extreme bookworms, so a lot of love went into the design and description of this magical library.

They have magic bunny robots that get books for you. Also it’s a low fantasy story about a librarian who dies and decides to reinvent the printing press in the medical world she lives in. There’s also political intrigue I guess.

It’s a series all about books and libraries, and told from the pov of a librarian who died and decided to reinvent free public libraries and printing presses and books in a fantasy world

Highbrary aka Library of Congress, Alcatraz vs the Evil Librarians by Brandon Sanderson

It’s just the library of congress like from real life except secretly it’s the central stronghold of the network of evil librarians that rules the world as we measly humans know it to be. It’s funny. The book is good. That is all thank you and goodnight

The library of congress is the home base for the librarians in the book series. It not only is the normal library of congress building, but there is also a tunnel system underneath that houses the more magical items that normal people are not allowed to use.

[neutrondivergent]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hiccup Series - Cressida Cowell Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Camicazi & Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III & Fishlegs No-Name Characters: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Camicazi (How to Train Your Dragon), Fishlegs No-Name (How to Train Your Dragon) Additional Tags: Platonic Relationships, aftermath of war, history repeats itself Summary:

Aftermath of HTTYD Book 12 (Spoilers!)

King Hiccup on the Island of Tomorrow

Title from Pompeii by Bastille

[obsessed-with-words-on-a-page]

Why you should read Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians: an essay by me

I love Brandon Sanderson’s books. Each book is a genuine delight, start to finish. His magic systems are so mind-blowingly rich and complex. Rule-based and creative, his magics use focuses, math, and limitations to stand out. Each time I cracked open another of his works I knew I was in for magics and characters I wouldn’t stop wondering and imagining about for years. I tore through the cosmere, the Reckoners, and the Skyward series, reading and re-reading.

However, the first of his books I read was a series you may not have heard of, Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians. I wasn’t that excited, (I didn’t know what I was getting into) but I quickly changed my tune. The book is written as an autobiography by a fictional character (think Percy Jackson), and it is masterfully done. It is full of relatable characters, rich plots, and hilarious side tangents and commentary by the author, Alcatraz, for whom Brandon Sanderson is just a pen name. It’s supposedly a middle grade series, but Brandon Sanderson could write a lawn mower instruction manual and his fanbase would still fanatically read and meme about it. So why does this masterpiece have practically no following?

Please someone read this relatable comedy gold. The fandom is like 6 people, some spare change, and a piece of string. We need you cosmere/skyward/reckoners fans! This is a Sanderson book, which means that the characters will be real and relatable, the plot will be captivating, the twists will be revelatory, and the magic system will be realistic and rule-based while being so cool and full of possibility. I’m promising you a story and characters that will emotionally captivate you, and (what every Sanderson reader knows is bound to happen) angst, political intrigue, and general world-saving. Is that everything? I think that’s everything. I leave you with this: after reading these books, you will never be the same.

May your books be good, and your spheres be bright to light your way.

[strange-wafflez]

when your bf is being annoying 😝🙃

[wartoposluchac]

Best Of 2022 – Albumy

Best Of 2022 – Albumy

50/Sigrid – How to let go (Universal Music)49/Stromae – Multitude (Universal Music)48/Bastille – Give me the future (Universal Music)47/Michael Buble – Higher (Warner Music)46/JP Cooper – She (Universal Music)45/Rex Orange County – Who cares (Sony Music)44/Jean Michel Jarre – Oxymore (Sony Music)43/Muse – Will of the people (Warner Music)42/Mabel – About last night (Universal Music)41/Noah Cyrus…

[quarterprioritymidnight]

not bad_news being played on love island last night 💀

[minervas-hand]

Right to fear, wrong to believe

Just had a horrible realization and needed to meta it out.

How different they were before Edinburgh, when Crowley was sucked down into Hell.

Look at this flirty babygirl in the Bastille:

I mean could he climb that tree any faster?

(This is why I really like fics that place a more physical relationship here, pre-Bastille or just post-Bastille, because c'mon look at them. )

In S1 the next thing is 1862 and Crowley asking for insurance (with a cane ffs). And Aziraphale freaking out with his "fraternizing" BS. It's jarring, until we get 1827 filled in for us in S2.

@takeme-totheworld notes in this post:

Crowley sure went from "our respective head offices don't actually care how things get done" and "nobody ever has to know" to "walls have ears" FAST after Edinburgh. And Aziraphale went from looking at Crowley with hearts in his eyes to "I've been FrAtErNiZiNg" just as quickly. I'm more convinced than ever that Edinburgh was the first time Crowley ever actually got caught and punished for fucking around with Aziraphale/doing good deeds/whatever it was they yanked him back down to Hell for, and it scared the absolute shit out of both of them and changed the whole tone of their relationship after that.

Yes! - it's clear to me as well that the Edinburgh graveyard was a very bad turning point, where they both saw that Hell was listening and would intervene. And it did change their relationship drastically, for over a century and a half (really, until looming Armageddon loosened up the stakes for them).

But what about Heaven?

See the thing is, we know Azi's been worried about Heaven watching him for the past 6000 years.

But they haven't.

[GIFs posted by starrose17]

All this time, and Heaven had not seen them together. Hadn't noticed. Had not even LOOKED.

I want to mention what @starrose17 says about this here in this post:

What I love about this is her choice of words, “went back through the Earth Observation files.” This implies that these photos were already filed somewhere meaning somebody had to have been watching them which meant somewhere in the depths of the bureaucratic heaven there’s an underpaid angel clerk tasked with watching angels on Earth, and he’s been hording photos of his favourite Angel/Demon couple not reporting them to Michael because he wants to see what happens.

And that's exactly what this fic covers!: Spying Omens by @ednav

(Give this a read, it's fabulous.)

While I am here for this being exactly how that happens, the other scenario is colder and worse - there's no one watching, at all. It's just filing automatically and never seen until some Scrivener is called to pull a file.

From @fuckyeahisawthatat's comment here :

I found this scene to be quite chilling, actually. Not only is the idea of Heaven as a surveillance state brilliant (way to make “God is always watching” sound way more ominous) but this is exactly how modern surveillance states work. They don’t actively watch everybody all the time. That’s not physically possible for humans, and even if it is metaphysically possible for Heaven, it’s not a very efficient use of resources. Surveillance states watch people they deem “suspicious.” And once you’ve been put in the category of “suspicious,” they have massive amounts of data that they can comb through to collect a lot of information about you–to retroactively build a case justifying why you’re suspicious, to collect information about where you go and who you associate with, etc.

Yes.

So we either have secret collusion in the rank and file, or we have a surveillance state that is constantly reinforced to its subjects for fear's sake, for control.

(Well, it obviously could be both.)

BUT my point is… Up until Edinburgh, Hell has not been watching (or caring at least). And up until near the end of Armageddon't, neither has Heaven.

Oh, my poor Angel. Thousands of years, of denying yourself, of pushing Crowley away, of carrying around a tension that is it's own constellation.

After 1827 you might have reason, but for the 5000+ years before that?

Thousands of years and Heaven was not watching nor cared.

You were right to fear. And you were wrong to believe.

And that just breaks my heart.

[bowtiepastabitch]

Let's Talk Costuming: It'd take a miracle to get anyone to see Hamlet

Huzzah huzzah, we return to the Renaissance for part two! You can click here to see my analysis of Aziraphale's costume through the lens of Elizabethan sumptuary laws, aka our angel is a bit of a fop and we love him for it. As a reminder (or if you don't feel like reading the other at all) we're towards the end of the Elizabethan period, around 1599-1601, and England is protestant now!

Guys I absolutely love these costumes. Chronologically, this is the first time we get to see Crowley being stylish. I mean you could count Bildaddy as being... something, but I'm not sure I'd I would not consider it to be vogue or on trend. It is, as I pointed out for Az, highly indicative of his building an identity on and appreciation for Earth.

Silhouette-wise, he's pretty on the nose, and he continues to follow the trends to some degree for many centuries up until around Y2K. He's learning to blend in with the humans and properly enjoy what they bring to the table: clothes, wine, plays, et cetera.

He's not particularly ostentatious, especially standing next to Aziraphale, but his costume speaks more to a quiet luxury. Black, for example, was a very expensive color to dye things, and the buttons and leather accents betray some level of fashion sense.

( The Royal Progress Of Queen Elizabeth I, 1740)

I think one of my favorite things about this costume is the way they took all these elements of the period and then just had them... in black. Even the little ribbon garters on the stockings! It's one of his rare outfits that's entirely and exclusively black and I love that for him. There's a variety of materials, leather detailing and buttons for example, giving the garments a lot of texture and detail nonetheless (and keeping him from looking like a black void on camera). From the first season, this is one of my favorite fits.

According to this article, these costumes are actually borrowed from the Globe's costume archives! Which makes a lot of sense looking at them, they're very elaborate and theatrical, plus I just have a soft spot for costume collections and things that have been worn for multiple productions over time and the way it ties theatre and people and artsists together. Plus, look at those shoes!!!

As per usual, the two costumes compliment each other beautifully. Their historic costumes highlight their narrative foiling of each other in a slightly different way than their modern ones do. Most notably here, at the Bastille, and in Edinburgh, their clothing has a lot to say, were they human, about both social and economic class. We see Crowley demonstrating a significantly higher level of class awareness than Aziraphale, both in their dialogue (virtues of poverty) and in their dress (Aziraphale showing up to revolutionary era Paris in full aristocratic style). Here, in the Elizabethan era, Crowley blends in much better than his angelic counterpart (see again my analysis of Aziraphale's costume in this scene).They really don't look, to your average human unaware, like they belong together. If they weren't staring at each other with puppy dog eyes, it might would be rather believable that they're not friends.

(Portrait of Sir Edward Herbert, 1st Baron Herbert of Cherbury, circa 1613-1614)

I also found this incredibly slutty portrait while I was researching for this post, which bears similarities to Aziraphale's dress, so I figured y'all might enjoy seeing it.

For further reading: https://www.worldhistory.org/article/1577/clothes-in-the-elizabethan-era/

Please note that I did write all of this intermittently over several days, and though I've done my best to proofread I'm rather tired so if it's not perfect just look the other way

[rindecisions]

Something's Coming...

Join me!! 🤍

The AO3 collection is already live for you to post anything you make based on my work from now until forever

Join my Discord for more information and community. It's also the easiest way to get in contact with me.

Below are some scenes and ideas to give you jumping off points if you need them but I'd prefer you to use YOUR favorite!

Includes Sneak peeks!

(These were so hard to pick)

The Devil of Hawkins

I'd love to hear theories on this fic

First Kiss

Ceiling 69 🔞

Give Me Fuel, Give Me Fire

The Sunroof🔞

Stranger Tales

Something to go with the next chapter (Sneak Peek)🔞

You Know Where to Find Me

Something to the song Another Place by Bastile would be great. It's just such a fitting song for this story.

Their first goodbye

From Hell and Back

I'd love to see what one-shots you could come up with for my shapeshifting Demon Eddie

Mini Eddie

Tentacles🔞

A New Arrangement

What song should I base the next instalment on?

The teased kiss

Kiss in the rain

Steve's New Obsession

I'm torn on continuing this one. If I did what would you like to see happen?

Steve watching Eddie at the Hideout🔞

Beneath the Watch's Band

Where would you see this fic going?

Their first kiss

Billy 'The Freak' Hargrove

What do you think their other escapades looked like?

The proposition

Nectar

I bet you guys could come up with some impressive one-shots for plant cryptid Steve.

First kiss

Come and Get Me

To be released on March 20th. It's part of the @strangerthingsreversebigbang and will be accompanied by the incredible artwork of @waldos-art

A peek at one of my favorite scenes

The WIPs

These will be released on May 1st

Evil Things🔞

From Trashed to Treasured

Been working on this one with @madaboutmunson

Here's two scenes from the first chapter.

The Target 🔞

VERY DARK - DEAD-DOVE - READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Demositter

What Next?

Unnamed Sex-Pollen One-Shot

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Pauline Léon timeline

A timeline over the 70 year old life of Pauline Leclerc née Léon, based primarily on the article Pauline Léon, une républicaine révolutionnaire (2006) by Claude Guillon.

-

19 October 1767 — Mathurine Téholan and Pierre Paul Léon are married in the parish of Saint-Severin in Paris. Pierre Paul runs a small chocolate business on 356 rue de Grenelle. The couple settles on rue du Basq.

28 September 1768 — birth of Anne Pauline Léon, the couple’s first child. They later have four more children — Antoine Paul Louis (1772-1835), Marie Reine Antoinette, (1778), François Paul Mathurin (1779) as well as a child who’s sex and year of birth remains unknown. Pauline later describes her father as: ”a philosopher” and adds: ”If his lack of fortune did not allow him to give us a very brilliant education, at least he left us with no prejudices.”

1784 — death of Pierre Paul Léon. Pauline, aged sixteen, now starts helping her mother with keeping the chocolate business running in order to provide for the family.

14 July 1789 — Fall of the Bastille. Pauline claims to upon this event have felt ”the liveliest enthusiam, and although a woman I did not remain idle; I was seen from morning to evening animating the citizens against the artisans of tyranny, urging them to despise and brave aristocrats, barricading streets, and inciting the cowardly to leave their homes to come to the aid of the fatherland in danger.”

February 1791 — Pauline is introduced to several popular societies in Paris. She herself claims she would frequent the Cordelier Club up until 1794 (though there doesn’t seem to exist any trace of her in the debates held there), the Fraternal Society of Patriots of Both Sexes (where again, we have few documents that mention any direct activity from her part), as well as the section of Mucius Scaevola. The same month, Pauline defenestrates a bust of Lafayette “at Fréron’s”. It seems unlikey for this attack to have been aimed at the journalist Stanislas Fréron, who frequently denounced Lafayette in his l’Orateur du Peuple, but rather his mother Anne Françoise Fréron, who handled the publishing of the royalist paper L’Ami du Roi.

21 June 1791 — Pauline, her mother and their neighbor Constance Évrard are near the Palais Royal loudly protesting the king’s ”infamous treason” (his flight) when they, according to her, are ”almost assassinated by Lafayette’s mouchards” and are saved by other sans-culottes who manage to snatch them ”from the hands of these monsters” (National guardsmen)

17 July 1791 — Pauline takes part in the demonstration on the Champ-de-Mars. On the way home, she uses her fists to defend a friend against the family of a national guard. This last incident is witnessed by Constance Evrard, another sans-culotte woman and friend of Pauline, who reports it during an interrogation. This is the first conserved trace of any militant activities from Pauline.

Late February 1792 — l’Adresse individuelle à l’Assemblée nationale par des citoyennes de la capitale, a petition regarding women’s right to bear arms, is penned down. It was most likely written by Pauline herself, seeing as the first signature on the bottom of the handwritten version kept in the National Archives, as well as the only one appearing in the version printed by order of the Assembly, is “fille Léon.” After Pauline’s name about 310 more follow, including that of her mother and many other daughter-mother couples. The petition is first read out before the Society of Patriots of Both Sexes, which, under the presidency of Tallien, orders its printing and distribution.

March 9 1792 — the Patriotic Society of the Luxembourg section sends a delegation to the Fraternal Society of Patriots of Both Sexes to request affiliation. The latter club grants the request and appoints five auditors to attend the former’s next meeting, among which are three women: Pauline Léon, Constance Evrard and Marie-Charlotte Hardon. Pauline will actively participate in the recruitment of members for the Patriotic Society, personally presenting or supporting at least seven candidates between October 1792 and September 1793

June 1792 — Pauline, along with many other men and women, signs Pétition individuelle au corps législatif pour lui demander la punition de tous les conspirateurs that calls for ”a quick vengeance” against monarchist ministers.

10 August 1792 — Pauline takes part in the Insurrection of August 10. She describes her activities in the following way: "On August 10, 1792, after spending part of the night in the Fontaine-de-Grenelle section, I joined the next day, armed with a pike, the ranks of the citizens of this section to go and fight the tyrant and his satellites. It was only at the request of almost all the patriots that I consented to give up my weapon to a sans-culotte; I gave it to him, however, only on the condition that he would use it well.”

December 1792 — Pauline, together with 3 other women and 88 men, signs the Adresse au peuple par la Société patriotique de la section du Luxembourg which demands the death of the king and pronounces threats against eventual monarchist deputies.

2 February 1793 — During a session at the Fraternal Society of Patriots of Both Sexes, Pauline is welcomed as mandated by the Defenders of the Republic of the 84 departments. At the same session, Pauline’s future husband Théophile Leclerc (1771-1820) is charged with writing a petition against commodity money. This is the first known meeting between the two.

3 February 1793 — during the session at The Fraternal Society of Patriots of Both Sexes, ”Citoyenne Léon” takes the floor to continue a denounciation against Dumouriez that Hébert has just made. Le Créole patriote reports that ”she thinks, like him, that [Dumouriez] is nothing more than an intrigant; she accuses him of several things, notably the persecution he inflicted on two patriotic battalions unjustly accused by him.”

10 February 1793 — Le Créole patriote reports the following regarding the session at The Fraternal Society of Patriots of Both Sexes:

Citoyenne Léon informs of an important denunciation made to the Commune and to the society of defenders of the republic, one and indivisible of the 84 departments. This denunciation, signed, states that on the 6th of the month a dinner was held at the house of Garat, minister of justice, provisionally exercising the functions of minister of interior, where Brissot, Barbaroux, Louvet and other noirs, composing the great and famous right side of the National Convention; plus, Bournonville, new minister of war. She calls on the society to monitor the latter, and asks that two of its members be sent to that of the Jacobins to communicate to them this fact, to which the most serious attention must be paid. Boussard makes the motion that the president be instructed to write to Bournonville, so that he can give the company explanations on this subject. These three proposals are adopted.

At the Jacobin Club the same day, ”a citoyenne,” in the name of the Fraternal Society of Patriots of Both Sexes, makes the following intervention: ”Citizens, I denounce to you Garat, minister of justice, who last Wednesday had thirty people to dinner, among which were Brissot, Barbaroux, Louvet and Beurnonville. The patriots do not have entry to this minister, and Brissot comes and goes there all the time.” It is very likely this speaker was Pauline.

17 February 1793 — Le Créole patriote reports that, during the session at The Fraternal Society of Patriots of Both Sexes, ”citoyenne Léon reads a denunciation from Citizen Godchaux against General Félix Wemphen. Several members believe that this denunciation is well founded, and urge the society to tear off the mask from all the intriguers.”

10 May 1793 — Pauline is a co-founder of the Society of Revolutionary and Republican Women (Société des Républicaines révolutionnaires or Société des citoyennes républicaines révolutionnaires de Paris), a club which only admits women as members and holds its meetings at the libary of the Jacobins, rue Saint-Honoré. Claire Lacombe, who often gets mentioned as another co-founder, actually doesn’t have her first attested appearance as a member of the society until June 26.  Already on the May 12, the club presents itself at the Jacobins, proposing to arm patriotic women between ages 18 and 50 in order to organize them against the Vendée. A week later, May 19, a delegation made up of members from both the Cordeliers and Revolutionary and Republican Women present themselves before the Jacobins yet again, asking for the arrest of all suspect people, the establishment of both revolutionary tribunals in all departments and a revolutionary sans-culotte army in every town, an act of accusation against the girondins, the extermination of “the stockbrokers, the hoarders and the selfish merchants” who are responsible for a conspiracy attempting to starve the people, that the revolutionary army of Paris be increased to 40,000 men, that land be distributed to the soldiers, as well as the send forth of the petition to the Convention. Though Pauline’s presence can be supposed for both of these occasions, we don’t have any hard evidence for it.

2 June 1793 — Pauline leads a delegation from the Society of Revolutionary and Republican Women wishing to be admitted to the Convention, carrying a request in her own handwriting. They are however quickly forgotten in the tumult caused by the Insurrection of May 31, which this day ends with 22 girondins being put under house arrest. During this same insurrection, several Revolutionary and Republican Women are arrested, and Pauline, as president of the Society, signs a warrant by which they demand the liberation of one of them, detained for having threatened three men with a knife.

June 1793 — Pauline is the author of a denounciation against the grocer Le Doux, rue du Sépulcre, accused of “bad comments,” mainly consisting of complains about the looting. We don’t know if the denounciation had any consequences.

9 July 1793 — Le Réglement de la Société des citoyennes républicaines révolutionnaires de Paris is published. The document is signed by president Rousaud and four secretaires: Potheau, Monier, Dubreuil och Pauline Léon. 

July 10 1793 — Pauline goes to the Jacobin club, where she, ”in the name of the Revolutionary and Republican Women, presents a petition demanding the exclusion of nobles from all employments.”

July 20 1793 — A Délibération de la Société des Républicaines révolutionnaires, relative à l’érection d’un obélisque à la mémoire de Marat, sur la place du Carrousel, is signed by Pauline. The text is read at the Jacobins on July 26, by a deputation from the Society of Revolutionary and Republican Women.

July 31 1793 — Réglement de la Société des citoyennes républicaines révolutionnaires de Paris is published. The document is signed by the president, Rousaud, and four secretaries: Potheau, Monier, Dubreuil and Pauline Léon.

15 August 1793 — At the Jacobin club, ”citoyenne Léon, at the head of a deputation from the Society of Revolutionary and Republican Women, comes to request assimilation and correspondence for said Society. She also asks that the Jacobins contribute to the costs of the obelisk erected in Marat’s honor.”

30 October 1793 — Jean Pierre André Amar, member of the Committee of General Security, announces the dissolution of the Society of Revolutionary Women to the National Convention.

12 November 1793 — the marriage contract between Pauline Léon and Théophile Leclerc is signed. Through it, we see that the husband brings property valued at 300 livres, while the wife holds 1000 livres consisting of both money and effects. Pauline was in other words richer than Leclerc. She declares to after her marriage have returned to the chocolate making business and ”devoted myself entirely to the care of my household and given the example of conjugal love and the domestic virtues which are the basis of love of the homeland.”

March 17 1794 — Pauline joins Leclerc at La Fère (Aisne), where the latter is mobilizing.

April 3 1794 — the Leclerc couple are arrested on orders given by the Committee of General Security. They are taken to Paris and locked up in the Luxembourg prison three days later.

4 July 1794 — At the Luxembourg prison, Pauline either writes or dictates Précis de la conduite révolutionnaire de dame Pauline Léon, femme Leclerc, which is adressed to the Committee of General Security. It is from this document we learn almost all the details regarding her militant activities and private life. Unfortunately, I’ve not been able to find it published in full.

5 August 1794 — Pauline writes to ”sensible Tallien” and pleads for the cause of ”800 imprisoned people.” One day later she adresses herself to to ”the representatives” and asks them to at least consider a prompt examination of their case. Pauline claims that Leclerc and Pierre-François Réal were imprisoned for having "collected evidence against the accomplices of the tyrant Robespierre who were to have their throats slit." The following day, the two men are brought before the Committee of General Security. Réal is immediately set free, Pauline and Théophile joins him on August 22.

22 July 1804 — Pauline writes the following letter (cited in full within the article Un sans-culotte parisien en l’an XII: François Léon, frère de Pauline Léon (1982) by Michael David Sibalis) to Réal, by now one of those in charge of the general police, asking for the liberation of her younger brother François Paul Mathurin, imprisoned since three and a half months back for having written and published leaflets critical of Napoleon. Through the letter, we learn about some things that have happened in her life during the ten years since the last trace of her:

4 Thermidor [year 12] Monsieur, A month ago I presented a petition to the Grand Judge; at the same time I had the honor of writing to you, to request the release of my brother, named François Léon, imprisoned in the Bicêtre for a bad verse; I would ask for your indulgence, today I appeal to your justice; four months of such harsh detention had to atone for his fault; moreover his friend guilty of the same extravagance, since of two verses, one wrote the first and the other the second, was released; my brother is not more guilty, perhaps he is less; his delicacy did not allow him to justify himself at the expense of his friend; which certainly does not deserve punishment. Based on this, Monsieur, I believe I have the right to ask for his release; and I have the firm confidence that you will grant it to us; if you could still deign to think of his mother, who is old and more punished than him. This poor woman is exhausted trying to help and console him. She who needs help for herself, I am not talking to you about the grief her family is experiencing at the loss of my time (which is precious since it must be used to feed my son and relieve my mother), having, Monsieur, the advantage of having known you, I think you will not disdain these considerations. Salut and respect, Femme Leclerc Teacher (Instritutrice) Rue Jean Robert No. 4

François will be set free and leave Paris, the police having labeled him as a ”pronounced anarchist, difficult to correct.” In his interrogation, held May 2 1804 (it too cited in full within Un sans-culotte parisien en l’an XII…) he reveals that he is a tailor living alone on rue du Vieux Colombier N. 744 and ”very republican.”François’ accomplice Jean Sorret did in his interrogation claim that his friend was ”a pronounced jacobin, as is the rest of his family.”

October 5 1838 — death of Pauline in Bourbon-Vendée, rue de Bordeaux, one week after her seventieth birthday. She had moved there to settle with her sister Marie Reine Antoinette and her family somewhere between 1812 and 1835. 

[aziraphales-library]

Hi, dear mods! I come with a rec and an associated ask. The rec is a sweet little crackish-premised "Aziraphale is a literal star and Crowley is a black hole" AU with references to canon and a cool play around astronomical phenomena. It's called "Like a spiral sea unending" by hapax (hapaxnym). It's a gem, but the problem is, basically all the tags for it are quite useless, because it's such an uncommon idea. Do you happen to know more of these (possibly crackish) impossible-to-find-cause-you-d-never-thought-you-needed-one fics? Preferably funny, not explicit, and with clever references to canon if AU? (I have no idea if canon-compliant fics can be like this).

Have a nice day!

Hello! Tags we have that you might be interested in for more fun and unusual fics are #crack and #outsider pov. Here are some more for you...

Context by Fyre (G)

Sometimes, when you overhear someone in the street, you lack context. An angel, a demon, and three accidental eavesdroppers.

A Culinary Misadventure by PurpleRose (T)

Based on the the prompt: Aziraphale tries to sneak into hell because he wants to see if he can eat S'mores with marshmallows roasted in hellfire. Naturally he gets caught, Crowley finds out, and if you thought he was pissed about the Bastille...

Dear Raphael by asideofourown (T)

The thing was, even after Crowley Fell, Heaven forgot to delete his login to their system. The only half interesting thing he had ever found in Heaven’s archives was their newspaper, even though it was a dreadfully dull rag. But even then, Crowley was never inspired to truly interfere with the Celestial Observer’s contents until the late 1600s, when advice columns were invented on Earth. As always, brilliant inspiration struck him like… like whatever inspiration strikes like. So Crowley resolved to meddle, just as a side project. Maybe if he got enough angels heated at each other, he could report it as a victory to Hell. Anyway, Dagon had always liked gossip, and the Celestial Observer’s new advice column was a ready source of that. It was pure genius. [Crowley, demon of Hell, becomes Heaven's foremost advice columnist]

The Wheel of Fortune by Quefish (T)

Crowley decides to enjoy a bit of mischief by being a game show contestant. Aziraphale is dragged along, much to his dismay.

You've Got Kudos by curtaincall (M)

Aziraphale and Crowley both write fanfiction. As it happens, they both write Good Omens fanfiction. Of course, neither of them would ever admit this to the other. (A love story told primarily in AO3 comments)

The Fortune Teller by AppleSeeds (T)

Through the course of his academic research, Aziraphale discovers that a curse was placed on Edwardian seer Anthony Crowley, trapping him inside a fairground fortune telling automaton for over a century. Aziraphale is determined to find a way to set Crowley free, and becomes increasingly enamoured with him, both from reading his words and through the unconventional conversation they manage to share.

And the one you mentioned...

Like a spiral sea unending by hapax (G)

They used to shine, once. But that was a long time ago. As a black hole, Crowley is condemned to a lonely existence. But then they encounter one bright particular star...

- Mod D

[leomeoi]

Happier

The title is from the song "Happier" by Marshmello Bastille. The lyrics "I want you to be happier. Know that means I'll have to leave." spoke to me. Please read the wonderful @tapakah0's comic and watch the amazing animatic they did that this work is inspired from. (Please forgive any out of characterness or grammar mistakes, I had no Beta Reader and wrote this in one sitting.) Thank you so much to Tapakah for drawing this amazing comic and answering my questions, as well as allowing me to write a fic for their work.

Oh, obligatory warning. This is angst. There is major character death, violence, and sadness. It ends unhappy (for now.) Proceed with caution and make informed decisions!

Click here for a link to the Archive Of Our Own version!

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Today's a big day.

Arguably, every day that they go out to fight the Krang that have infiltrated every nook, cranny, and crevice of their lives all those years ago is a big day. Raphael can't help but feel the bone-crushing load of responsibility that weighs down on his shoulders as he watches the hubbub of activity from the head. As he scans the faces of each person—human and mutant alike—with his one good eye, Raph feels as if his shell might just crack. He's not naive. There's nothing normal about this. He knows that they won't be able to save everyone, there'll be casualties. Their days are numbered, and the world just isn't fair in that way. The Krang aren't merciful. It could be anyone that they lose, there's no off-limits, and there's no way of predicting what shade of grief they'll experience today. As more and more days go by, Raphael can't shake the feeling that every victory they have is just a pyrrhic one. Even still, they fight. Everyone currently in the shelter of this hangar does. They all hope for a better future, a chance to reclaim all that they lost and there's not a single person who isn't willing to sacrifice it all. There's nothing more important than to ensure the success of this battle they're about to fight in the world war they've been waging against the invading advanced alien species.

He doesn't want to think about it. He doesn't want to think about all the people that they've lost. It sends ripples of agony tearing through his chest, a physical ache that he can feel permeate even his plastron. It's a horrid fact that death is actually the most merciful thing the Krang can gift them with. They've lost countless others to infection, the result of that blasted plague yielding pink, fleshy atrocities, the host twisted and manipulated into a mere shell of their former self. They cannot be qualified as a person by then, bestial creatures hellbent on destruction and controlled by the very violators that infected them to begin with. It's a fate worse than death, the loss of will and self; they move only to the will impressed upon them. Raph's arms cross even tighter across his broad chest, his teeth grinding. The cold metal of his right arm reminds him that he's gotten off lucky. His fingers dig into his elbows as he stands, a grim and foreboding figure against the thoughts that plague his mind. He knows that he's gotten lost under the pressure of his thoughts when he stirs only at a warm touch against his forearm.

"Raph? You okay, big man?"

The sound of Leo's voice snaps him out of it further. His tone is bright, but Raph can hear the undertow of concern. Raph tears his gaze away from the milling crowd and looks down, meeting his brother's gaze. Even though it's been years, Raphael still can't help the flare of pride every time he sees Leo and how much he's changed over the years. It seems like yesterday that Raphael had to scold, nag, and practically plead with his younger sibling to get him to take things seriously. He knows that being the leader was a pressure that Leonardo never wanted, but once he's received it, he'd learned the gravity of the role. Sometimes, Raph thinks Leonardo has outgrown him, just the way that Raphael thought he would. A lesser turtle would have broken under the pressure, but Leonardo is as strong as he is stubborn. He stands against the test of time and loss, brave and unrelenting. He now leads with a certainty that has saved them on numerous occasions, and Raphael truly couldn't be prouder of how much he's grown into the role given to him.

Leonardo must see the way Raph's eyes soften because the sharp grin on his face loses its charming edge, too. Raph's chest feels tight as if his heart would burst out from the confines of his plastron. It's an entirely different reason than just a few seconds before when the grim reality was moments from overwhelming him.

He really is so proud.

"Yeah, Raph's okay. Just thinking." Raphael flashes his snaggletooth in a wide smile, and Leo mirrors it.

Normally, the conversation would end there. Raph wasn't the best at expressing his feelings, and Leonardo was even less so. He doesn't have the same connection to Leo that Donatello seems to have—they are self-proclaimed twins after all. They communicate almost solely on looks and gestures as if that's enough to convey exactly what it is they want to say. They leave nearly everything unsaid, but that's simply not something Raph can do. It's easy to communicate with Mikey; he's the best of them all. Still, there's so much that he wants to say to Leo, but it's almost time to leave. Raph can tell by the way things are quieting, the chaos of getting prepared sinking into the hum of calm and determined poise. Even with it all, Raphael is gripped with the unshakable feeling that he simply needs to get out. He doesn't know what it is, but it's an undeniable urge.

Leonardo's about to turn away. Despite the eternity that Raph feels like he just went through in his struggle to find the right words, mere seconds have passed. Raph decides that he doesn't need pretty words like Donnie, or the innate ability Mikey has to say exactly what a turtle needs to hear. Leo will understand. He knows Raph. He knows that they're connected and understand each other in a way that only those who have and are responsible for the lives of many can.

"Leo," he starts, and Raph almost winces at how serious he sounds. Leo blinks at the sudden change in tone, but he doesn't falter. His easy grin changes almost immediately, and the fact he no longer tries to deflect serious conversation with humor when it comes to Raphael brings yet another wave of pride. Leo stands before him, waiting. He's listening.

Raphael nods to himself, lifting a hand to place on Leonardo's shoulder. He squeezes and shakes Leo lightly, a reassuring gesture. His snaggletooth makes even more of an appearance as he smiles wide. "Raph is so proud. You've kicked ass and grown. You don't need lil ol' me anymore. I could not be more proud."

Surprise flits through Leo's eyes before it's replaced by something else. His gaze is piercing, eyes dark and almost unreadable. Almost. In another time, Raph wouldn't have ever thought that he'd know Leo so well. The feeling is potent, and Raph can feel it, too. It charges him with strength, and a new lightness finds his spirit. The iron trust that Leo has in him shines in his eyes, and Raphael had almost felt too small to withstand the weight of it once. Now, it gives Raph the strength he needs to continue on.

It seems to have been the right time to say what he was thinking.

Leonardo's shoulders square, and he seems to grow even taller before Raphael's very eyes. "Don't kid yourself, Raph," Leo chuckles. He slaps at Raph's arm lightly with a pat. "I'll always need my big brother." They both laugh at that, the serious mood broken up as their chortles sound in the room. With that, Leonardo turns away, moving his attention to something else that they need to be as prepared as they ever will be. Raph doesn't really concern himself with that anymore unless Leo needs him to. Bolstered by warmth, Raph knows that he needs to make his own rounds. He walks through the crowd, and people part way for him to accommodate his bulk. He stops and talks to a few, bumps elbows with April, and high-fives Cassandra. Somewhere along the line, Cass and Raph had grown closer. Undoubtedly, it was because of a certain young individual they spent any spare moment they had with.

Somewhere in the middle of that, Raph finds who he's looking for. "Donnie," he calls, and his brother whirls towards him. Donnie's battle shell remains engaged in what seems to be furious typing, his purple holographs buzzing with ninpo. A fond smile lights up Raph's face—even in the midst of preparing for a big battle, Donatello is always moving. His mind is always working, and Raphael wonders if it's because it's so loud that Donnie rarely ever sleeps.

"Raph," Donnie greets, the lenses of his red and blue goggles whirring as they adjust to parse Raph. Then, Donnie groans. "What did Nardo break now? I swear, I told him I'm gonna kick his shell if he breaks one more damn thing, so he decides to send you to break the news? I'm gonna find him-" He starts to grouse, and Raphael is sent into a frenzy trying to placate him.

"No, no! Leo didn't break nothin'. Just... Raph just wanted to talk to you. Before everything." Raphael shrugs, his hands outstretched and spread to show his surrender. Donatello squints and it's obvious that he's suspicious. His drawn-on eyebrows arch, and Raphael can't help but laugh again. There is no doubt that Donatello is the most expressive one of them all. His eyebrows only add to his charm, and over the years, he's grown into his skin even more. Raph thinks that Donatello is also the one to hide his emotions the most, choosing pragmatism and logic over the pursuit of emotions at all times. It's also why Raph thinks that Donatello's mask—the persona that he adopts—rivals Leo's.

In truth, Donatello is generous. He's a genius, a maniacal scientist, and Raph knows that his mind works in ways unmatched. He knows that it's because Donnie is Donnie that they've been able to maintain a semblance of a life. Raph knows that Donnie works himself to the bone for them, and fixes every problem that crops up that others don't even know where to begin. The thing with Donnie is that he's so, so generous, with a heart that's about as soft as his shell. Raph knows that he doesn't want anyone to know. Donnie gives them his all every day, every minute, and every second. It's enough for Raph to worry that one day, Donnie will give, give, and give until there's nothing left. Raphael has always silenced that voice, knowing that it comes from a selfish part of Raph that wants his brothers cared for, apocalypse be damned. Now, though. Raph thinks he can convey what he wants to say to Donnie at least once in a way that he can't be misunderstood.

Taking Donnie's suspicious look in stride, Raphael reaches up to rap his knuckles against his metal prosthetic. It makes a sharp sound each time he does, and Raph grins in spite of it all. "I know I've said this already, but Dontron... Thanks again. I know that this-" Raph gestures to all around him, and then again to his arm, "-couldn't have happened without you." Donnie seems to have been caught off guard by the sincere way Raphael is saying what he wants to say. Still, he recovers fast.

"Why, of course. I'm glad you realize that you need my brilliant mind and recognize that this is all in courtesy of the great Donatello, a.k.a. moi." Donatello's eyes are half-moons, his goggles retreating to the top of his head. His grin is smug, but Raph can see the genuine curls of delight that cause the corners of the said grin to twitch into an almost smile. Donatello's arms outstretch to gesture to the entire facility, and the simple movement makes him look bigger than life. It's grandiose, enthusiastic, and just as bombastic as Raph would have expected Donnie to respond with. Raphael doesn't bother stopping the laugh that escapes him, and his deep laughter seems to infect Donnie, too. He laughs with Raph, a small rumble mixed with the beginnings of a chirp. After the laughter dies down, Donnie gives Raph another grin. "Okay, now that you have me sufficiently buttered up, what did you break?" Donnie asks, his voice teasing. Raphael recognizes it for the jest that it is, and he snorts again.

"I keep tellin' you, nothing's broke!" Raphael's hands lift and they settle on Donatello's shoulders. He can't be too serious. Donnie will be too busy trying to make light of the words leaving Raph's mouth in his mind to truly understand what he's trying to say. Raph smiles. "Just tryna say thank you, Dontron. You're right, we need your brilliant mind, but that's not all we need," he gently reminds the younger turtle. "You're our Donnie, too. Our brother. Raph just wants to make sure that you take care of yourself, too. Less coffee, more sleep." He shrugs, his voice light. For a moment or two, Donnie says nothing. His eyes are wide, fixated on Raph's. It's enough to make Raph nervous and wonder if he's gone too far, but his fears are dispelled when Donnie's shoulders slump slightly under his hands.

"When did you turn all Dr. Feelings? Isn't that Michelangelo's job?" Donnie jokes and makes a face, but his voice shakes just enough to convey that he understands what Raph is trying to say. Raphael chooses to act mock-offended, going along with the bit.

"Hey! Are you saying Raph can't say that he loves his brothers?" He huffs, and Donnie rolls his eyes. The heavier moment dispels and Donnie's attention is suddenly needed elsewhere, judging by the beeping that he can hear. Raph lets his hands fall from Donatello's shoulders.

"Duty calls. No rest for the wicked." Donnie sighs, somehow dramatic and sincere at the same time. His eyes are closed as he says this, but he peeks out at Raph. That's enough for Raph to spot the gentle glint in his brother's eye. "But..." he intones, combining the sound with another sigh. "I'll try." Raph grins.

"All I ask." He nods, and Donnie hums. He's reorienting himself, Raph has heard that noncommital hum too many times to not know. "I'll see you later, Dontron," Raphael says before he loses Donnie in a string of mutters, and Donnie gives him a wave as his goggles return to his face, already focusing on what had pulled him away.

Raphael keeps walking. He dodges children, people, and mutants. It's not easy with his build, and he sticks out like a sore thumb from size alone. Still, it's not enough to deter him from finding Mikey. Mikey's as easy to spot as it is to spot Raph in a crowd. His powerful ninpo rolls off him in waves, mysticality crackling under his fingertips. It surges through his entire body, and it's almost impossible to miss. He's often haloed in a golden light, something that's as warm as his spirit. Over the years, Mikey has only grown more powerful, but with his abilities, so does his wisdom. Mikey is no longer just the goofy turtle he'd been before; he is wise beyond his years, capable, and strong. He's the inspiration within the Resistance, the ever-burning beacon of hope. Raph has leaned on him for support more times than he can count, and Mikey has more than once single-handedly born the grief of hundreds after a bad battle. Many turn to him for guidance now.

Raph finds him in the exact position that he thought he would.

"Mikey," he says, trying to hold back laughter. At Raph's voice, Mikey looks up, expression bright.

"Raph! Hiya, bud. Apparently, my hair's getting too long!" He says, voice full of cheer and contentment. He's surrounded by an ethereal glow, and floating. His legs are crossed, and there is a gaggle of giggling children running around him. They dip below him from where he's floating, dodging each other while they play tag. The innocence of the view seems to heal all the old wounds and the scars littering Raph's heart momentarily. There's another taller child with her fingers in Mikey's hair, and upon closer inspection, she's braiding it. Mikey already has multiple little braids here and there in his hair, and it's a sight that makes Raph's caught laughter burst free.

"Really? Raph thinks it's fine." He tilts his head as he inspects Mikey, and he's sure his expression mirrors Mikey's. Raph edges closer before he sits down with a mighty groan, and maybe a bit of a heavier thud than he'd wanted. The children crow as the ground shakes a little when Raph sits down, and he's swarmed. They crawl all over his legs, chattering excitedly, and Raph sits and listens. He and Michelangelo both do. They bask in the simple joy that the children exude. They ask him all kinds of questions, and Raph answers the best he can. They tell him nonsensical stories, about everything Mikey has been telling them, stories of times before the Krang. It's a bittersweet experience, knowing that there's a chance that these children will never experience what they had. Still, the tenacity and hope these children hold to someday seeing all that they've been told of is infectious. It reminds him of something their dad has always told them.

Hope is a ninja's greatest weapon.

Eventually, the children go off to Mikey's gentle shooing, as if he knows that Raphael has something important to say. The bond they share is close to the silent bond that Leonardo and Donatello share. In the past, Raphael and Michelangelo had clashed on more than one occasion. Raph knows he could be overprotective. He had been, back then, and Raph is old enough to admit that. Michelangelo had been the youngest, and even though he still is, Raphael trusts that he can protect himself now. That he can protect all of them. More than anything, Raph trusts Mikey with the Resistance. He trusts Mikey with their family. It's an all-encompassing trust that's hard to explain, even if he tries. After the Krang, after they'd been forced to grow, their relationship had changed forever. It was for the better. They'd grown closer, and the need for verbal communication has nearly faded from existence. Michelangelo can read Raph like a book. Even now, he waits for Raphael to collect his thoughts because he knows that his older brother has something to say. Raphael is grateful for it, just like all the times before.

After another few moments of silence, Raph wordlessly leans. He leans enough that their shoulders touch. He can feel the warmth spilling from Michelangelo, and it's comforting in ways that he can't describe. Mikey hums, but he doesn't say anything. His short braids are slowly coming loose, and they both stare from the sidelines as their people gather the rowdy children, scooping them up for hugs and kisses. Raph swallows. The heavy feeling from earlier returns. How many of these children would end up orphaned after this fight? He ignores a palpable thought about Casey Jr. that flits through his mind as fast as lightning. He doesn't want to think about that now. Raphael knows that Mikey can sense the dread that is approaching, the muted fear and grief that is already threatening his horizon. In front of Mikey, Raphael doesn't really find the need to appear as strong as he feels he needs to be around everyone else. He knows Mikey understands.

"Mikey," he starts, his voice suddenly hoarse around the lump in his throat. Michelangelo doesn't respond, just nudges his shoulder into Raph's harder. Raph takes a deep breath. He needs to say what he actually has on his mind, or he might burst. He's mentioned it to Donatello before, but Donnie hadn't let him finish. He'd dismissed the notion, he'd been angry with Raph for thinking such things. Raph hadn't broached the subject again. Now, he thinks it's a good time to. "If Raph doesn't make it back, please take care of our family." He smiles, feeling a hot pressure starting to build behind his eye. He knows that it's tears. Michelangelo still doesn't say anything. Raph presses on. "If- Donnie said somethin’ before about the mission goin' wrong and said that it's likely going to be Leo who's out for the count. I dunno if Donnie's goin' to be right, but it's Donnie. He probably is." He laughs, trying to free some of the building pressure in his throat. He swallows, again. Harder this time.

"Don't let Leo blame himself. Or Donnie. An'... An' I don't want you blaming yourself either. Okay?" Raph finally turns his head to look at Mikey and finds that Mikey is staring at him. Michelangelo is looking at him with a pained expression on his face. He doesn't bother hiding it. He knows what Raph is talking about, and even if he doesn't interrupt, Raph knows that Mikey is struggling already with the thought of something going awry. "I know it's goin' to be hard. But... But you're the strongest of us all, Mikey. In here." Raph reaches over, placing a hand over his brother's plastron. "They're gonna need you. It's not fair, I know. But they are. Just... Just remember me for me, an' the good things. Keep goin'. Keep them goin'." Raph's smile is trembling, he knows. He sees Michelangelo struggle for a moment or two before he feels and sees Mikey let out a harsh, near-guttural breath. His eyes are glassy as if he's holding back tears. Then, Mikey nods.

"Okay," Mikey whispers. Raphael keeps the smile on his face and nods back. Then, Raphael pulls Mikey into a hug. He hugs him tight, and he can't help but notice just how small Mikey is compared to him. He feels even more sorrowful, knowing that Mikey is still the youngest but Raph is asking so much from him. He's come to realize and know that Mikey is incredibly powerful, and because of that, sometimes he forgets just how young Mikey still is. Raph tightens his grip. That seems to be enough for Michelangelo. He hugs back, and they stay that way for a few heartrending moments. Raphael eventually pulls back, and if he did so with a sniffle, no one is going to call him out on it.

Raph gives Mikey's shoulders one last squeeze before he releases his brother. He swivels his head back to their people, and Raph knows that they're ready. He finds his way back onto his feet and pushes through the crowd again, heading towards the front lines. He sees Leo. He's waiting for Raph. Raphael takes a deep breath to collect himself before he lets his focus overcome the dread that he'd experienced mere moments ago. He finds his rightful place next to Leo.

"You ready?" Leo's voice is quiet, a muted question. There's the slightest hint of uncertainty, and Raph knows more than anyone what Leo's feeling.

"Ready." Raphael agrees, and his response seems to bolster Leo. He grins. Raph returns it with a smirk, straightening as he turns to face the crowd. "We're moving out soon! Everyone get ready!" He rumbles, voice filling the hangar. There are a few cheers, and everyone scrambles to get last-minute preparations underway. Among them is Cass. He watches as she stoops to hug her son. Raph watches, his heart in his throat as Casey giggles in his mom's arms, his little head poking up past Cass' shoulder. He squeals when he's lifted up by his mom, and Raph feels like he shouldn't intrude on the moment. He turns away despite his aching heart. He's about to walk away when he hears Casey's unmistakable voice. It's not Casey's voice that stops him dead in his tracks. It's what he says.

"Pap?"

For what feels like an eternity, Raph's brain blanks. He stands still as his brothers all laugh, equal parts disbelief and amusement. All Raph can do is flounder. Flashes of Splinter enter his mind, memories of their father dancing before his very eyes. Suddenly, it all makes sense. It's like his world realigns. What his brothers say becomes mush, and he can't seem to process anything but the single word he'd heard. The tears that he's been holding back well up, and Raph turns around on his heels. He strides forward and then stoops down, making himself as small as possible with a waterlogged smile. "Casey!" Raph calls, and his voice cracks, arms reaching forward. His chest is impossibly tight again, but he doesn't care. This is all that matters.

Cassandra's expression melts from one of stark surprise to a quiet fondness, and she crouches to let Casey back onto the floor. Upon the sight of Raph's outstretched arms, Casey races over to him. There's no hesitation until he reaches Raph, and suddenly, Raphael doesn't know what to do with himself. He's become this small human's pap, and he loves little Case with all of his heart. His hands shake, and he can't seem to stop them. He hovers, more concerned than ever that he would somehow hurt Casey. It turns out that his uncertainty doesn't matter. Casey blinks at Raph owlishly, then turns towards the hand that isn't a prosthetic. Raph's heart clenches. Casey reaches out, settling his tiny hand in Raph's. It's barely big enough to circle around one of Raph's fingers halfway. Casey smiles, holding onto the hand even tighter. He hugs it with his whole body, and Raph can only stand so much. His throat burns and his tears make an appearance as he pulls the child—no, his son—close. He holds him against his face, eye closing. He's so small. Everything is clear now.

This war, this fight… It’s for their future. They fight for their right to hand down a world that is secure, safe, and bright. They fight for the right to live freely. They fight to ensure that their children will never have to face the same hardship that their guardians did. It's worth fighting for, down to the last drop of blood, and the last shred of breath.

Raphael doesn't want to, but he knows he has to. He pulls back, releasing Casey from his hug. Case giggles again in response, and his small hands reach for Raph's face. "Oh, Casey. Papa will be back very soon." He smiles through his tears, and Casey grows serious. Raphael can't help but be startled at the determination on Casey's young face, and he has to hold his breath as Case brushes away the tears from his face. Raph nudges his forehead against Casey's one last time, gentle and loving. He pushes his child towards the crowd that's accumulated to bid them luck and goodbye. Despite his young age, Casey seems to realize that it's time to say goodbye. He backs away, but he waves to Raphael the entire time.

With newfound strength and courage fortifying his soul, Raph can feel his ninpo practically crackling. He's going to bring down the Krang, no matter what. For his brothers. For the Resistance. For all those that he lost. For Casey. He lifts an arm to scrub at his face, getting rid of the remainder of his tears. When he talks again, his voice is strong and booms through the halls. "Let's move out!"

Raphael leads the entourage. His expression is set in stone, and his remaining eye burns with untamable fire.

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Somehow, Raph has always known that it would end this way. He's not one for grand maniacal plans like Donnie, not strategic like Leo, or even as mystically talented as Mikey. There is one thing that he knows how to do, something that he's better at than anybody else.

He knows it'll take everything he has.

But that's okay. It gives his brothers, Casey, April, and everyone in the Resistance a fighting chance. A shot at a better future.

He doesn't tell anyone that his mind is already made up. The chaos of the battle rages around them, but all sound is muffled to Raphael. There is an eerie calm descending on him. He can feel the dead weight of Leo in his arms. He glances around, and that's all he needs to conclude that they're in trouble. They're out of options. The sound of screams and cries of their people fighting—and losing—echo. It pierces through the shrouded veil that is surrounding Raphael. A newfound clarity settles, and the knowledge of what he's about to do makes him ache for all those he's leaving behind.

I'm sorry, Casey, he thinks, swallowing. Papa won't be making it home.

"Donnie. You were right," Raphael chuckles, the sound dry and wretched. He looks toward the holographic screen that has Donnie's face. "It is Leo that gets knocked out." At his words, Donatello's face twists. A flicker of understanding seems to bode before it disappears, a fierce look of denial taking over the lines of his face.

"Yes, well, I'm almost always right. 99.99% of the time," Donnie responds, his voice wrecked. It's a low sound, full of pain and a new kind of desperation.

Raphael lays Leonardo down, his ministrations endlessly careful and gentle. He forgets about his strength often because he's a tank; he's as destructive as he is obstinate. Even still, he is careful with his unconscious brother. Leo's prosthetic is destroyed. Raph glances at his own.

A Krang hound overwhelms Leo while he fights hundreds of others; it manages to sink its teeth into the metal of Leo's arm. Raph can do nothing but watch in horror as the hound shakes Leo like a ragdoll. The hound continues to slam the turtle around repeatedly with brutal strength as if it was determined to rip Leo's arm out of its socket as it had already done once before. In Raphael's hurry, he tackles the dog with his full body weight after he wrestles his way closer, sending Krang creatures sprawling from the sheer force he plows through them with. Leo slams into the ground, and the impact is hard enough to knock him out cold with a pained grunt. Raphael growls, the sound twisting into a bone-chilling snarl. His hands grasp the top of the Krang mutt's jaw in a crushing grip, the other latching onto the lower jaw. With a furious cry, Raph wrenches the dog's mouth open. Unnatural howls leave the creature's mouth as it struggles, its screams of pain growing more frequent. Raphael doen't stop there. Once the alien releases the wreckage that had once been Leo's prosthetic, Raphael gives a mighty heave accompanied by a roar of rage. How dare the Krang take Leo's arm again?

The gory sound of bones snapping and the wet, horrid sound of skin ripping fill the air until Raph releases the remains of what had been a Krang creature from his hands. He sucks in deep breaths of air, panting from the extra exertion of strength. He steps away from the bloody carnage, stumbling towards Leo. He presses his head to Leo's plastron, relief flooding in at the sound of a heartbeat. "Leo," he calls, throat hoarse. He shakes his brother, hoping to rouse him. "Leo!" There is no response. He's out cold, injured, and without an arm. Raphael has no way of getting him to safety.

His closed eye opens. Raphael shakes himself out of his reverie of recounting memories. He knows what he has to do. "Don, how long until the shuttles arrive?" He questions. He sounds calm, even to his own ears. He sees Donatello look away towards his wrist screen, and Raph knows what the answer is before Donnie even says it. Donnie's eyes are distant, his brain racing. It's going a mile a minute only to come to the same conclusion. Nothing. Donnie can't move, Mikey is overwhelmed and fighting to get people to safety, and Leo is unconscious. Raph is the last mutant standing.

"Donnie." Raph calls again. He still wants to hear the answer. His gaze is fixed on the holo screen, and Donnie looks back at him with fervent eyes.

"15 minutes." The answer is delivered in a voice that sounds small and defeated. Raphael nods. His nod is more to himself than anything. Everything comes at a price.

"Don. Remember what Raph said, okay?" That's all Raph has to say before a wretched cry sounds from Donnie.

"No! There's another way, we still have time! Raphael, don't fucking do this!" Donnie's panic, rage, and pain are imprinted clearly in his desperate plea. He knows what Raphael is about to do. Raphael only looks at him through the holo screen. He knows what he looks like. He looks grim, determined. Fierce. Donnie reads his intentions loud and clear and tries again anyway. Raph feels as if someone is twisting a katana in his heart when he sees the way Donatello's face crumples, the way his head slumps. He tips his head downwards. "Please, Raph. Please, don't do this. Please," Donnie begs, but there's nothing Raphael can give him as an answer. They have no choice. Donnie knows this. Raphael looks away from the screen. He looks down at Leonardo and the destroyed prosthetic. Wordlessly, Raphael smiles. It's soft, affectionate. Leo looks so young like this. Raph reaches over, and his large fingers find the spot he's looking for on his arm. His prosthetic detaches with a hiss. He presumes where he's going, he won't need this. He hears Donnie make a sound that sounds like a mournful, cut-off cry. Donatello is smart. He's already put together why Raph is doing this. There aren't many supplies to rebuild prosthetics anymore. Raph carefully places his metal arm over Leo. It positions over him as if it's cradling and holding the younger turtle.

"Donatello." The use of his full name forces Donnie to look up, and there are tears running down his face without reserve. Raphael grins, his infamous snaggletooth making an appearance. "Take care of yourself. Raph will always be with you. Don't blame yourself, or anyone else. I know you all, and I know you will keep fighting. Beat them for me. Then, when you win, like a boss-" Raph emphasizes, his voice trembling for just a moment, "-remember me. Tell everyone how much I love them." Donnie says nothing. He's looking away from Raphael now, and Raph understands.

Raphael stands up. The dust and wind generated by the battlefield whip the tail ends of his bandanna around. He takes a deep breath. His mind flashes to all the people he's met in his life. Behind his eyelids, all his memories play out. Mikey. Donnie. Leo. April. Splinter. Barry. Cassandra. The Resistance. Casey. His heart seems to swell. It's for them. A fierce inferno suddenly sparks to life, fueled by all his grief, love, and passion. He's doing this for them. He will protect them, even if it's the last thing he does.

When Raph opens his eye, it glows red. Surges of energy crawl over his body as electricity would, and his teeth grit. There is no more fear. He takes a step forward, and the very ground shakes from the force. Already, his ninpo has grown his size. Bigger, he thinks.

Another earth-shattering thud. Pain surges through him, his body warning him of its constraints. He ignores it. Bigger.

This time, the earth cracks open under his foot as he takes another step. The pain is excruciating. Raphael can see the red lines spidering through his flesh, the cracks he absorbs with his entire body. His form remains solid. With each movement, his body is falling apart. He knows that if he continues, his body will tear itself apart. He will break like glass, and he will die. The thought doesn't do anything for him, and it only emboldens him to go faster. "Bigger!" He roars, his voice carrying through the battlefield in a cry so searing and fierce, he gains the attention of the lead Krang.

Krang creatures scatter from under his feet. Those that don't, he crushes. He is far from caring. He moves his way forward, soul on fire. If he can protect his people, his family, Raph will gladly feed his soul as fodder to his ninpo. His eye is fixated on the lead Krang as he fast approaches. Even from this distance, he can see the way the disgusting pink flesh alien's arrogance melts away into pure, unadulterated fear. It feels good. Raph grins, and he knows that his form follows suit. By the time the Krang realizes his intentions, it's too late. The roar of rage, fear, and defeat that Raphael hears is music to his ears as he grasps the Technodrome. His sheer size dwarfs the once massive ship. It fits into his hands the way a ball would, and his sudden fury at the thought of all those he lost to this alien ship causes his fingers to grasp tighter. His fingertips dig into the ship, and the groaning creak it gives as he crushes it bit by bit is exhilarating.

Raphael lifts it above his head. His ninpo holds strong, but he can feel every molecule of his body breaking under the pressure. He looks up at the sky. He'd wanted to see the blue skies with everyone at the end. At least, this way, he could help them do that, even if it's without him. His eye closes. I'm so proud of you all. I'll see you again. For now, this is Raph out. Like a boss. With a heaving cry that threatens to cleave the sky open and rip the very fabric of time, Raph opens his one eye. Tears fall from it as he fixates it on the lead Krang, his savage smirk only growing wider. He swings his raised arms down, slamming the Technodrome ship down with all of his strength. He screams, channeling every fiber of his being into ensuring that the ship is completely, utterly destroyed. They will never endanger their people with this ship again.

There is a burst of light accompanied by an earthquake that topples buildings and splits the ground, dust clogging the sky in a dirty mist that is impossible to see through. With it, shards of red float and swirl through the air. Everyone who knows what it is also knows what it means.

Raphael is gone.

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

There's nothing Mikey can do. He watches as his brother tears himself apart to fight against the Krang. He watches in horror as Raphael screams in equal parts fury and agony, destroying something that is a detrimental blow to the Krang. His hands shake, and his vision blurs, but he can't look away. A sob rips from his throat as he holds Leo, his eyes fixated on the crackling red figure in the distance. One hand cradles Leo while the other is clenched tightly on Raph's prosthetic arm. Somehow, Raphael knew. Somehow. Mikey doesn't know if Raphael is able to hear him, but he grasps the fingers of Raphael's prosthetic as if he is clutching onto his hand. "I'm here! Raph, I'm here! You're not alone, I'm here!" He screams like a wild animal; his tears and grief are unending. He screams as loud as he can, hoping, praying, willing that Raphael hears that he's not alone and that Michelangelo will keep his promise.

He looks until he is forced to close his eyes at the burst of light. There is no one but Mikey to catalog Raphael's final moments. He has to remember, to see everything.

When he opens his eyes. all he sees is a crumbling red figure. It deteriorates, shards floating in the air before it disintegrates. Almost like it never existed. As if Raphael never existed. Mikey stays where he is, too stunned and grief-stricken to even cry out anymore. He watches as Raphael's ninpo disappears. He feels reality slipping from his grasp. His mind can't help but shy away from the possibility that Raphael is truly gone. He denies such a reality, but even that comes to a stop. Something red flits down from the sky, and Mikey reaches up. His ninpo grasps the item, and when he brings it closer, Mikey feels his heart shatter. In his trembling hand is Raphael's bandanna. The only remnant of their brother's body. The only proof that he existed, other than their ashen memories. With shaky hands, Michelangelo brings it closer. He lays Leo down and looks around. Almost numbly, he takes Leo's abandoned odachi. He ties the strip of red around the handle, closes his eyes, and presses his forehead against it. He's only like that for a moment before his eyes open again. The fire that burns within is an anger that burns brighter than magma in a volcano.

In another time, Mikey hadn't understood the word hate. The concept had eluded his grasp. Now... Now he knows what hate is, and more. His loathing now knows no bounds. He hates the Krang. He loathes them. The embers of his hate lodge in his throat as he snarls silently, eyes beginning to glow a fierce yellow. He burns with the force of the sun, his usual warm rays of light turning cruel. He will destroy them all. His orange bandanna falls from his face in ashes, and with it, his hair is released. He faces the enemy that has regrouped shakily from Raph's attack. The enemy that now has set their eyes upon their allies and the rest of them. Mikey knows that the shuttles have landed. He is the last line of defense against the enemy and his allies that need time to escape.

He's never been more glad for that fact. His power crackles, surrounding him like a violent whirlwind. The power surges through his body, and he can feel it chipping away at the years he has left in his body. His hair grows longer, blowing in the wind of his rage without his bandanna to hold it back. He floats, rising higher and higher into the sky as his power builds like a hurricane. He raises his arms, and Michelangelo holds onto his ninpo with a savage ferocity that almost outweighs the pain at the knowledge that Raph is now gone. His fury reaches new heights.

The coals that burn in his throat finally give, and the scream he lets out is like a banshee's. With it, he releases his ninpo. His power is as unforgiving and brutal as the sea, waves of light matching the caliber of a primordial force perhaps as old as time. It floods over the battlefield like an ocean, golden light rolling in with the strength of a tidal wave and the speed of a riptide. He screams again, but it is a wordless cry of unmatched wrath. Michelangelo will burn them. He will destroy every single one until there's nothing by ash and death. They will suffer the way that they have suffered. The blinding wave of light engulfs the approaching Krang, and with inhuman, blood-curdling shrieks, they burn in the fire of Michelangelo's hate.

Mikey lands down, his feet on the ground. He pants as he looks at the razed land before them. Suddenly, all his strength ebbs from him as he falls to his knees. He feels empty. With a sudden hiccuping sob, Michelangelo raises his hands to his face, burrowing into them as he cries uncontrollably. Raphael is still gone.

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

Donatello numbly watches as his wrist pad notifies him that the shuttle is arriving in 10 minutes. He feels detached. Everything is hazy, layered in a white fog. He feels as if nothing matters. He stays where he is, his eyes distant. His thoughts are quiet, for once. There's just... Nothing. He stares blankly at the horizon. He hadn't been able to see Raph's sacrifice. He isn't sure if he should feel grateful for that or not, so he doesn't think about it at all. There are other Krang and people fighting, but Donatello can't seem to pull himself together. It's all just so... Distant. Like he's not with this reality anymore. The logical part of his brain wonders if the powerful surges of energy and the earth-shattering showdown that has occurred have somehow transported him into a different universe. He almost laughs at the thought. Why does he feel nothing?

The shuttles arrive. The shuttles arrive but Donatello doesn't move. He watches as others run to the shuttle. He can't help but feel a little resentful towards them, a dull flare in the dark abyss. Do they know what sacrifice just occurred to save their lives? Are they grateful? A distant part of him observes from its detachment the observation he makes is unfair. Donnie doesn't care. In the far distance, he sees April looking around. He can even see her face wet with tears as she searches. Some part of him knows that she's looking for him. She's looking for Leo, Mikey, Raph, or him. His distant thoughts suddenly screech to a stop. Raph. Raphael. She... She won't be able to search for him anymore. She won't find him. Suddenly, everything becomes too sharp. Too clear. The agony that rushes in almost makes him wish for the detached daze he had just been in.

It's at that time that he hears Mikey's scream. It emotes all that he's feeling, and it delivers a blow so gut-wrenching that whatever breath is left in Donnie's lungs is stolen away. Another blinding white light envelops the field, and this time, he knows that it's Michelangelo. This knowledge makes this new reality jarringly, horrifically real.

Raphael is dead.

Just as the numb daze is about to return, Donatello is made aware of the hiccupping sobs that undoubtedly belong to Mikey. All his doubts disappear, and he is confronted with the reality that they've gone from four brothers to three. It's here that Donnie realizes—he'd never gotten to say goodbye. He'd never been able to tell Raphael that he loves him, too. Something wet trails down his face. He's shocked for a moment before he realizes, once again, that it's his tears. They run hot, splashing down his cheeks and onto his collarbone. Then, it's like the floodgates open. His shoulders shake as he wails, face upturned towards the sky as he screams, shouts, and rages. He can't breathe, but Donatello doesn't care. He doesn't. Everything hurts. Raphael had died alone, protecting them.

Donatello's sobs join Mikey's as they howl at the sky like feral, wounded animals, their grief raw and insurmountable. It presses on both of their shoulders, through their plastrons, and into their chests; the weight is so heavy that Donatello wonders if he'll ever be able to stand up again.

[chaoticnandovibes]

In Your Warmth, I Forget: 1/1

– Pairing: Strollonso

My little fic written for @inejschumacher in the F1 Secret Santa 2023 which you should totally 1000% take a look at!! So many amazing fics (29!!) were written for so many different ships and it was honestly so fun to be a part of!!

Fic summary below the break:

Sharing a room with the very same pilot he just spent hours couped up in an aircraft's cockpit with was definitely not on his list of things to do tonight, but that's where Fernando finds himself.

I mean, it could've been worse...

[thisismorrigan]

Some of my favorite Good Omens fanfictions from AO3 part 1

So this list is something I've been putting together for awhile and I'm pretty proud of it! As this list grows I will continue to post more parts in the future! The current list I have is so long I think i'm going to need two or three posts! So keep an eye out if you are interested!

 ALSO side note! I know there are pleanty of these authors that I've found on Tumblr and I will do my best to find all of them and tag them as well! It will just take a little bit more time!

Completed works: 

Winged Awakening by AJ_Constance (E)

For all of you out there who wish their wings were out more this fic is for you. This is such a well written wing fic with just a bit (by a bit I mean a lot) of nervous/protective Crowley. The ending had me kicking my feet and giggling. These two idiots always take too long to understand what’s actually going on!

The Corruption Begins With The Mouth by toxic_androgyny (E)

This one made me so emotional! It’s hurt Crowley and hurt Aziraphale with food and smut. The ending had me in a puddle of angsty tears. 

The Soft Animal Of Your Body by focusfixated (E)

This is a great take on how Aziraphale would respond to “hunger” for the first time. This is the scene in s2e2 when Az tries human food for the first time and realizes he has been hungry for something else entirely for a very long time. ` 

Because You’ll Like It by mimsynims (E)

This is a forced proximity, nemesis with benefits one shot and I’m really sad there isn’t more to this story! There is one line in this fic that hurt my soul. I’m sure once you read it you will know exactly what i’,m talking about. 

Just For The Night by mimsynims (E)

Silly ghosts haunting Crowley’s apartment that are tired of watching these idiots not realizing they are in love with each other. 

Vive La Revolution by lineslines (E)

This is one of the best versions of the Bastille scene I’ve read! It’s a lot of pining while *being together* and it’s so well written. I was left wanting so much more from this plot and I’m happy to say that there is a sister fic! Chocolates, Honey!

Chocolates, Honey by lineslines (E)

This is the sister fic to Vive La Revolution by lineslines. This one is a little more soft but don’t let that fool you. The pining is REAL and it hurts my soul. 

The Devil Came To Soho by Zion (artificalmac) (E)

The demon Crowley comes to Earth to tempt the angel Aziraphale. Each chapter is Crowley trying to tempt Az into one of the 7 deadly sins but it’s not going the way he thought it would. Also did I mention Crowley owns a tattoo shop??

Laying Claim by fallenwithoutgrace (E)

Accidental proposal! This fic is so silly to start but it’s so cute and I just love protective Crowley so much.      

Why Is It That I Am Keen To Be Devoured By You? By Maybedreaming (E)

So I beg you to please read the tags on this one. This is a consensual non consent story and if you are at all bothered by any of the warnings in the tags please don’t read this. BUT if you are into this kind of thing, this story is done very well! I felt so many emotions reading this and I appreciate how the author handled Crowley in the aftermath of what happened.

[kermit-coded]

Every Stumble And Each Misfire (441 words) by kermit_coded Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Blue Beetle (Comics), Blue Beetle (Movie 2023) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Alberto Reyes & Jaime Reyes, Khaji Da & Jaime Reyes, Jaime Reyes & Jaime Reyes' Family Characters: Jaime Reyes, Jaime Reyes' Family (Blue Beetle), Khaji Da Additional Tags: Grief/Mourning, Song: Good Grief (Bastille), Bilingual Character(s), Body Dysphoria, Species Dysphoria, It/Its Pronouns For Khaji Da, Canonical Character Death, Past Torture, Parent Death, Existential Crisis, Jaime Reyes has PTSD, Jaime Reyes Has Anxiety, Jaime Reyes Needs a Hug, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Post Movie: Blue Beetle (2023) Series: Part 1 of tales from el paso street Summary: Jaime finally breaks down.