#Tʜᴀᴛ ɪs ɪᴛs ɢʟᴏʀʏ -Fanfiction-

[maitretmaitresse]

😰 ( @ monsieur thénardier yo )

           Monsters have feelings too - Accepting

             “Andwill be sentenced to hang this Sunday. Court dismissed.”

             Époninewas crying, but she was silent. Tiny shoulders wracked with sobs, but he couldn’thear them. All around him, others nodded in agreement with the punishment, butno matter how many he pushed against, he couldn’t get to the front. He openedhis mouth, but he couldn’t object. For the first time in his life, he wanted totell the truth, but he physically could not. His daughter, his one and only,his little diamond was going to take the fall for something he hadn’t eveninvolved her in – and he couldn’t take the blame.

            She wasgoing to die for him. He couldn’t stop it.

            He wokeup to Beatrice shoving him nearly off the mattress, hissing through her teeth, “JesusPierre, yer gonna give me bruises if ya keep kickin’ like that!”

            Headdarting so frantically he nearly gave himself whiplash, he noted the teensleeping beside him on the straw, somehow still asleep despite his terror. Hewrapped his arms around her tightly, eyes closing as he noted her breathing,her continued existence.

            “That ain’tnever gonna happen, petite… I promise.”

[maitretmaitresse]

🍼

                     Paternal instinct? Don’t know him, sounds lame - Not Accepting

               Helooked at the tiny, red screaming ball of daughter in his arms, then back tohis wife, somehow sleeping through both her cries and the dull thunder of canonfire in the distance. Not that he would have suggested childbirth to be astraightforward process – he’d been the attendant, as the only man permitted tosee her in such a state aside from the medic, who was less than enthused athaving to deliver life when so many others were dying.

               Themedic had left now, content in the knowledge that both mother and daughter werealive when he departed them, leaving Pierre to confusedly care for the littlebeing he’d spawned.

                Herface was scrunched up, just barely dried of birthing fluids. She’d fed just afew moments ago – what else could she want?                 Awkwardly, he held heragainst his chest as he laid back – always holding her head, as Beatrice hadnearly ripped his head off for making that mistake.

                                   “Hey littlegirl…” he began, uncomfortable in the knowledge that she couldn’t understandhim. “I know ‘s pretty scary, but could’ya maybe quiet down a lil’ bit?” Heglanced over at the sticky, sweaty mess that was Beatrice. “See? Maman’ssleepin’… ‘Must be safe.”

                Whether it was by his self-consciousmutterings or his heartbeat, the newborn found some small solace in her father’swords, and curled up into herself. She didn’t sleep, but regarded him withhuge, brown eyes which matched her mother’s. It was almost skeptical.

                Hejust stroked her solitary curl of hair back and sighed in relief. “That’sbetter…” After a few moments, he kissed the babe’s head and closed his eyes inrest.

                                   “You’regonna be a little spark, aren’t’cha?”

[maitretmaitresse]

Wrath

            A Marriage of Cunning and Fury - Accepting

             “You can’tleave, not like this!” Beatrice cried, despite her brother occupying a spacenot four inches from her face.

              “I canand I will, damnit,” he growled, “And shut your damn mouth, you’ll wake thewhole building.”

              “Likeya give a fuck ‘bout them, they ain’t good ‘nuff for ya. Yer own family ain’tgood ‘nuff for ya, why would they be?”

              “It’snot like that, Bea, it’s just-“ he cooled, desperately trying to plea to her.

              “Y’knowwot? Go. Just go.”

               “Beatrice,I-“

         The crunchof fist on cartilage echoed almost as badly as her voice had. Her ruddy facehad gone redder, a sheen of sweat and tears shining in the dim lamp light andhazy heat of the thick July weather.

                “Y’forgetyer family, fuck yer roots – you’re a rat, Bernard. I know wot y’ve been doin’,workin’ for months now’nd squirellin’ away all that money from us. I give Mama’ndPapa every last coin I fob from my boys, but wot’d’you do?”

          She spat athis feet, currently covered in blood from her previous assault. He was still doubledover, both in shock and pain, attempting to gather himself back up – it was a valiant,if ineffective one.

                 “Spendit all on suits. So ya can pass y’self off as a bougie bastard, some poor lil’orphan so yer bosses take pity on ya.”

           Anotherstrike, this time a swift kick to the knees which nearly knocked him down thestairs behind him. Chest heaving with breath, Beatrice stepped back across the thresholdto the Robert’s cramp apartment.  

                  “Getoutta my sight. ‘Nd you’d better not come back unless y’can pay back wot yamade since February.”

           The doorshut with such force that it was astonishing she hadn’t ripped it from thehinges. Bernard hobbled into the street, the walls alongside him his onlycrutch. The rest of the Robert family, accustomed to Beatrice’s fights with herbeaus, were all still asleep peacefully, even while she internally screamed ather brother’s betrayal. They would know soon enough – but she wasn’t sure theywould share the level of her fury.

[maitretmaitresse]

             C’mmon Thénard, y’ve trained for this…

             All the pep talks in the world couldn’t separate the young soldier from his fear, however. The six months of training, not to mention the brief leave in Paris were already the brightest point in Pierre’s life – the contrast of the battlefield was not necessary to make him remember this.

              Young as he was – even when lying about his age – he’d been put to the rear of the platoon for fear of his cowardice getting the better of him, but above several lines. He was, for all intents and purposes, trapped.

               And as canon fire went off around them and horses sounded their distress, he couldn’t help but feel that his heart might commit mutiny before he himself did. The unit pressed on towards the foreign line, every step less confident than his last.

                And then, finally, as they were coming so close that the enemy became men, rather than the congealed mass of color and sound that they had been – they retreated.

                Cries and taunts rang out from the French against the Austrian foes, leaving Pierre stunned. He’d not so much as shot once, and yet they were victorious? Swept up in the daze of it all, he and the rest of the army claimed the Earth that, minutes ago, the enemy had held.

                 The flags and colors and firing of successful rounds was nearly too much, but he found himself cheering along with his brethren. The high was something he couldn’t replicate for a million years – that he was sure of. Even through the adrenaline, he attempted to memorize each sensation associated with the victory, from the packed dirt beneath his feet to the blazing sun overhead. Etched into his mind, such that when he was old and gray he could tell everyone about his victory – doubtlessly one of many to come for the Great Empire.

[maitretmaitresse]

Went Down In History

send a muse + an ending - Accepting

WENT DOWN IN HISTORY- Your muse’s story is passed down through the ages, sometimes being stretched or exaggerated in places until it becomes a legend told in storybooks and campfires as poems, tall tales, etc.

            “… Andwhen St. Peter met’er outside the Pearly gates, she said                      ‘I’m off t’ave somefun now, tell the Lord ‘E’ll ‘ave ta wait!”                   Now Elsie ‘aunts oldParis-town’nd she takes great delight,                      Exposin’ herself atséances t’give the folk a fright                   Coz in the ‘ole’veChristendom there is no scarier sight                       ‘An Elsie’sghostly lady parts’a glowin’ in the night!”

        Raucouslaughter filled the air of the tavern, the men dispersing back to the bar fromtheir previous positions on or around a table. A refill was in order allaround, particularly for the young lad who’d just gotten off his shift at thedocks. He reached for a cheaply studded mug on the dirty, paneled wall only tobe yelled at by the bartender.

                     “Hey boy! Wot’d’you think yer doin’! ‘At’s not for use, ya know, ‘at wosol’ Thenardier’s when ‘e wos still wif us!”

        The lad starteda bit and jumped back, looking between his reprimander and the rest at the bar,who had just nodded solemnly and crossed themselves.

                                   “Sorry sir,didn’t know… But, if y’don’t mind my askin’, who’re you talkin’ about?”

        It was as thougha gunshot had rung for all the silence surrounding them. All eyes were trainedon the boy before a hushed murmur began. One of them nodded to the empty stoolbeside him as they tried to decide where to start.

                            “How’s ‘e not know? It’s only been, wot, twenty years?”

               “Ah,how’d you know? You were only five. Only one who knew’im proper’s old ‘Nasse, ‘nd‘e may’s well be dead.”

        The tallestof the bunch, a man of forty years who wore a flat cap and a waistcoat ratherthan the jacket favored by the rest, yelled over the din.

                      “I’ll start it.” He swallowed dramatically and raised his eyesheavenwards – as if that’s where their hero could have ended up.

                       “Back durin’ the first empire, there wos a bloke called Pierre Thenard,bless ‘is soul.” He allowed himself a grin, despite the reverent tone. “Theysay ‘e wos the youngest’ve five, ‘nd his oldest three sisters all died durin’the Bastille. ‘E learned stealin’ from ‘is older brother, but the old bastardwos so good by the time ‘e joined up, e’d robbed the church near ‘is townblind.”

                  “Then‘e joined up with Napoleon – ‘e killed nearly ‘alf the Spanish army durin’ thecampaign. I ‘eard the real reason they lost Waterloo wos cause ‘is ‘orse diedalongway so ‘e wos too late t’save it!”

                        “I ‘eard ‘is wife ran into battle for ‘im – dodged three bleedin’ cannonballswith ‘is daughter on ‘er breast – just coz ‘e forgot ‘is lunch!”

              “Course,by then the war wos lost, so ‘e moved back t’the south’ve the city –Montfermeil, I think – ‘nd ‘e started an inn-“

                                   ‘nd lemmetell ya, boy, ‘e robbed every godforsaken bloke ‘oo came in there! None’ve ‘emsuspected ‘im at all!”

               “’Edidn’t think it wos enough’ve a challenge though, so they hauled back up t’Paris.‘E started the ‘ardest damn gang the city ever saw – practically ‘ad the policeeatin’ out’ve their hands. ‘E wos sittin’ on a devil’s hoard’ve gold by thispoint, ‘course, ‘e and ‘is wife when their poor lil’ girl died in thebarricade-“

                       “So they gave it away t’the men ‘oo did ‘em good.”

          A solemnnod by those that had been touched by that particular donation as children.

                            “Nearly put me through school it did.”

              “Boughtme a new pair’ve shoes.”

                        “When death came for ‘im, ‘ewos 80 – I think death wos too scared t’carry off the general t’be honest-“

                       “’e wos sittin’ right in that chair.”

           The boy,entranced by the stories, blanched a bit as he glanced down – causing anotherroar of cackling.

                      “Be ‘onored, boy. Ol’ Thenardier watches’ver us, those ‘oo gotta work too‘ard, or steal for their supper. Up in ‘Eaven, down in ‘Ell, don’t matter to usdoes it?”

                 Afew noises of agreement, followed by clanging of metal mugs on splintery, cheapwood.

                         “Next round’s on me, boys. Courtesy’ve old Pierre!”

          Many toastswere made that night – and should the man have been able to hear, he would havebeen more than pleased.

[maitretmaitresse]

🔐

              Take a lil look-see - Accepting

             Beneaththe floorboards of an apartment on the fifth floor of a rotting complex is a well-guardedsecret. If you were to move the stove – or be the sort of tiny woman who couldreach beneath it without burning herself – you would pound your fist onto thethird board to the left, furthest back to the wall. First, you would find asmall sack of coins – everything that the notorious couple have to their name –but under that, you’d find the real treasure.

              A lock of bleached hair, curling at theends from age or its treatment during life, tied up with a red velvet ribbon.An old captain’s watch – a bronzed medal of achievement, given to those thatclimbed the first rung of General Napoleon’s ladder. A pair of golden rings whichglinted like the eyes of those they belonged to. It was hardly enough to fill ashoebox, but it was remarkable for the fact that these trinkets hadn’t beengiven back. They’d been gifted twenty years ago, and still remained in Beatriceand Pierre’s possession – respectively.

[maitretmaitresse]

👀 ( from CHRISTOPHE )

First meeting drabbles - accepting

            The Thénardiesse’seyes darted from the mother’s face to her child’s for just a fraction of aninstant. Her focus was largely on Fantine’s, as it must be. The inn was prospering;she knew that well. But steady income for nothing more than making sure a bratdidn’t die? It was an offer even Beatrice couldn’t refuse.  

            Thelittle boy was very small. Were she not trying to get in the good graces of herpotential client, she would have called her a liar for saying he was nearlytwo. Éponine was already two years and one months and weighed at least twiceand much and a full five inches on him. He looked frail, nearly as sick as hismother. But that wasn’t surprising. Many women weren’t fit for this world, anddied from the unpleasantness of it all before they’d had their second child.

             It washis eyes that were remarkable, if nothing else. Huge and very blue, she halfexpected him to be blind on top of everything else – though he clearly wasn’t,by the way he eyed her in distrust.

            Still,her smile held as she took the baby from his mother with promises of the starsand moon, a proper upbringing and regular meals – none to be kept after Fantinehad left town, save a roof over his head.

[maitretmaitresse]

Clueless ? Life Everlasting ?

           Give Munrie Excuses for fics - Accepting

CLUELESS: Your muse has lost their memory and been separated from everyone they knew, effectively starting their life over.

               WhenBeatrice woke up, she had no memory of the night before. In fact, she had nomemory of the last week, month, year, or anything prior. The kindly man who hadtaken her in – elderly, almost a saint save the fact that he hadn’t gottenaround to dying yet – informed her that he’d found her passed out in thestreets. Not uncommon, considering that France had evidentially had anotherbrief revolution in the week past. He was quick to reassure her that authorityhad been restored and everything ought to have calmed down by tomorrow – which wasgood enough reason to stay in, even if her head hadn’t been assaulting herevery sense.

              The man, who went by Pommemerci, lent thewoman food and water, along with several other stragglers he had evidentiallypicked up out of the goodness of his heart. One young boy who went by Gavroche –he always glared at Beatrice, though she couldn’t piece together why – and anotheryoung lady. Musi-something.

              Whenshe had fully recovered – everything save her memory – she thanked the kind manand set off on her way. Where that way was, she wasn’t certain. She wore a bandon her left hand, so she was presumably married, but Paris was such a largecity.

              Perhapsin an effort to find said sweetheart, perhaps because it came naturally to her,she involved herself with a brothel – after all, someone had to cater to thoseParisian men who enjoyed more experienced women. She fought and fucked her wayto the top, and lived comfortably enough. She never found that husband –perhaps he’d never been real. Either way, it didn’t worry her too terriblymuch. She found herself to be independent, and self-reliant. She saved enoughthat when the time came, she was buried by her newfound friends without leavingbehind too many debts, if fewer memories than ever.

LIFE EVERLASTING: Your muse has gained the blessing/curse of immortality. They must live forever, until the universe itself dies.

           Granted,Pierre wasn’t usually one much for religion. But then, as the Prince ofDarkness himself explained, Hell wasn’t so much religion as fact – more like agovernment, really. So selling to the government wasn’t anywhere beyond hismoral capabilities, in the long run.

           However,being slim on big-R religion, he wasn’t knowledgeable about the downsides toFaustian bargains. For one, he was talked down from eternal wealth to eternallife, and for another, he didn’t think about Beatrice until after he’d comehome that night – and even then, not until after the coroner told him about thefreak accident. Never seen anything like it, such a sudden earthquake. Like thegates of Hell themselves opened up before them to swallow her up.

           Pierre wasagain reminded why he didn’t like religion.

           The nextfew decades were spent in mindless hedonism, attempting to get over the loss ofhis wife. Beatrice had been his partner in so many ways, and without her he waslost.

           Eating wasno longer a necessity – he would become hungry, and it was admittedlyirritating, but nothing he could do would kill him. No matter how much hewanted to join Beatrice, he couldn’t find a way.

           After theworld wars, he took to traveling the world. It wasn’t so difficult, stowingaway when air and food weren’t a concern. He saw all the continents – nothing tohelp his misanthropy – and eventually settled down in Canada. He hated to seeFrance in the state she was in after the wars, and the New World held so manypossibilities – like material wealth, for instance.

           Biding histime, eternal life eventually turned into eternal wealth as he’d liked to beginwith. Even then, it felt empty. He still saw her smile, heard her snicker, herchides. He missed her more than he would ever once admit, no matter how manyother lovers he took on.