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starfirewildheart · 4 months

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I am so sorry for the delay. RL has been in my face and also writers block has been a bitch!

Chapter 14

Scars and Souvenirs

Summary: Sy and his lady both retire from the army but not before tragedy befalls Sy. He slowly tries to adjust to life again on their ranch.

Pairing: Sy / OFC

Word count: 3,131

Rating: mentions of war; being a POW, death, talk of trafficking, forced prostitution and assult.

Sy looked around his kitchen, which quickly had become their war room. He looked at his four friends, his four brothers at Arms, four of the five people he could always count on. He knew no matter what, these people would be there for him. This was his Special Forces Unit - Black Ops. They did missions under the radar, things not many people could do.

Farthest to his right was a younger man with curly brown hair, tall build, piercing blue eyes. To any normal person he would look completely unsuspecting and innocent. This man was Will Shaw. Will's family was CIA. He came into it naturally. Will was their cleaner. He would go in after every mission and make sure everything was cleared so there was no evidence against the unit or anything that could trace back to anyone.

To Will's left was another tall, well-built man with sleek, dark hair, piercing blue eyes and high cheekbones. A man who always dressed very dignified, usually in a three-piece suit. That is unless he was in fatigues or Mission attire. This man was Napoleon Solo. Napoleon was the finder. Any artifact, any information, any person, any lost item, Napoleon was the one that found it. He could find anything.

To his left stood another tall well-built man with what Sy lovingly called a porn stash. This mustached man with dark hair and also with piercing blue eyes was August Walker. August was the true definition of a spy; it's the work he loved most. August wasn't afraid to get dirty, he wasn't afraid to blur the lines between black and white and sometimes he lived in such a dark gray area that it made the others uneasy. Walker could be a petulant asshole, he could be stubborn, bullheaded and even arrogant but he always had your six.

Next to him stood the man that Sy felt was the big brother he'd never had. Of course he felt that all the men were his brothers but there was a bond that he had with Geralt that was hard to explain. He could see Geralt as almost a father figure, a big brother, a guide, a mentor. Grealt was muscle and so much more.. He was the leader, the planner. Geralt knew things instinctively that sometimes the other guys missed. He was a master at defence and weaponry and could be diomatic when he needed to be and was not afraid to step in between any of them when they were fighting. He was menacing but had a heart of gold.

Then of course there was Sy himself. Sy was the calm head, the planner, the leader. He kept things cool and calm. He kept everyone on task. Sy was the muscle, he was the one that wasn't afraid to go in and put his life in danger. He would lead them and do anything in his power to keep them safe.

These are the men Sy trusted with his life, with Debbie's life. These are the men that were going to go in and help him save her. They were all dressed in black, their faces covered with black paint black and gray paint, armed to the hilt. Guns of every kind and size. They had flash bangs, grenades, everything they needed to go in quietly or to make a big noise if need be.

Sy glared at August as the man rubbed his sore jaw. had punched him. August tried to insist that Sy stay behind when they went on this mission. He tried to say that Sy would be a liability because they were going to get his girlfriend. It made Sy vulnerable and it made him one track minded so to speak. He didn't want Sy to get hurt but, being August he didn't phrase it the way. He said that Sy would be a liability and needed to stay in the surveillance truck with Shaw. Sy took offense. He told August that he was full of shit. He was going in to get Debbie with or without them then punched August in the jaw. Needless to say August didn't like that one bit and a scuffle ensued. Geralt of course stepped between them and scolded them like they were young kids fighting over the last piece of candy. Needless to say It was decided that Sy would indeed be going.

Geralt knew that there was some logic to what August said but he knew Sy was a professional through and through. It was what would happen after the rescue that Geralt was worried about. What they found would likely crush the man and it would be up to his Brothers to rally around them until they could pick up the prices.

It was two a.m., time to head put. They all loaded into the box truck that had been fitted with the surveillance equipment and they're coms where Will would be staying while the mission was taking place. He would guide them via the cameras that they had hacked into that were in the building using earwigs.

Walter, who hadn't been happy about being left out of the mission, met them at the predetermined location. He was to help Will in the surveillance van then notify authorities at the right time. Walt would be given full credit for taking down the S17's local trafficking ring, not that he was concerned with credit. He was pissed at first when Sy told him he couldn't go but after a long conversation about how Sy didn't want Walt to have any blood on his hands and not wanting to endanger his shared custody of Fay if anything went wrong during the mission he reluctantly agreed.

They parked the box truck out of sight and moved to a position at the back gate tgat was not under any surveillance where they cut through the metal fence and the barbed wire to get inside. Once they had breached the door into the building they encountered guards and had to take a few of them out, which they did silently to not draw attention to themselves. The others were subdued with zip ties around the wrists and ankles and injected with sedatives before height hidden out of sight.

Moving silently as a team, each clearing every doorway, every hallway or every possible spot for someone to be hiding. Will follows their steps on camera from the surveillance van telling them which way to turn and the quickest way to get to where they believed that Debbie and Mike were being held. They were able to avoid a lot of people in the hallways thanks to Will's guidance with the cameras. However they did meet face-to-face with a few people here and there. Did their best to subdue them but would use deadly force whenever necessary. They moved with stealth like skills as August and Sy simultaneously snapped the necks of two guards and Solo stabbed under the chin dropping him silently to the ground.

It seemed like it was taking forever to clear their route but in truth they had only been in the building for under five minutes when they reached the room they thought Debbie and Mike were being held in.

Cautiously they breached the door and stepped inside and were instantly hit with horrible smells they all knew too well. Smells that happened when someone was held prisoner and tortured. The smell of urine and blood filled the air and the copper and ammonia scents made their nostrils burn and eyes water.

The room was solid concrete with a drain in the center of the concrete floor. In the right,back corner Mike was curled into a ball,, hugging his knees to his chest rocking repeatedly muttering, “No, please, no! No more!” His hands and feet were bound tightly with plastic zip ties wrenched so tight that his hands and feet were turning blue and the skin was bloody and raw. Solo and August went to acces him.

Sy's heart pounded and constricted when he saw Debbie. She was hanging by her arms from a metal pipe, feet barely touching the floor. She was bloody and battered. Her face was swollen, both eyes blacked, nose and mouth bloody. Her shirt had been cut open and was hanging off her body and shreds her bra was cut open as well. Her skin was a myriad of bruises, burns and gashes. Her wrists were bloody from the metal cuffs she was hanging from. The skin on her neck was red raw and different shades of blue and purple like they'd tried to hang her.

Sy and Geralt went straight to her. Sy began accessing her injuries as Geralt worked freeing her from the cuffs. “No!” She rasped, her voice gone at this point as she struggled and kicked out at them with one leg. “Get away from me!” She bit at the nearest skin near her which was Geralt’s arm.

“Fuck!” He hissed quietly.

“Deb it's me, shhh. Darlin’ It's me,” Sy told her. “We're here to get you baby.”

She burst into tears at the sound of his voice. He was here for her. “Told them you would come,” she whispered before losing consciousness.

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#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #syverson fluff #syverson x you #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill characters #captain syverson fanfiction #syverson

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microcosme11 · 1 year

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Couple of scenes on Elba

translation by google/me

This morning at breakfast, there was no one to give him a plate. Napoleon said coldly, “Please give me a plate.” [I don’t know to whom he said it.]

Napoleon was at his lodging very early. His plans for the work to be done aren’t fixed; they follow one another very quickly. I am obliged to resist a large number of his ideas and my opinion sometimes seems to hold him back. But the Emperor took advantage of my absence yesterday to tear down what I wanted to keep; he laughed as he said to the workmen: “Hurry up, because Vincent is coming to scold us.” On my return, the Emperor laughed a great deal at having destroyed the most pleasant enjoyment of the lodging, which he will not replace in winter. As I made my respectful reproaches to him, he replied: "In winter I will raise these walls, and I will say again: ‘Vincent was right.’ " On my observation that the enemy might disturb his quarters, he replied that it would not be the first time.

Mémoires de tous: collection de souvenirs contemporains tendant a établir la verité dans l'histoire., t.3. [by Général du génie Vincent]

#memoirs #Baron Vincent #Elba #Napoleon's naughtiness

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josefavomjaaga · 1 year

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Mathieu Dumas gets scolded

@snowv88 wrote

I've never heard of that story with Berthier, Dumas and Eugene, would love to hear it 😆

Well, it’s actually not much of a story but more of an image that seems to be taken right out of some slapstick comedy. Plus, I’m sure I had already translated this bit before but I seem unable to find it again. So here’s a fresh translation (thank you, Deepl!):

From the Souvenirs du lieutenant-général Mathieu Dumas, Tome 3:

For context: this takes place in 1809, after the battle of Wagram and the armistice of Znaim. Dumas is charged with monitoring the execution of the armistice with the Austrians.

[…] Despite the line of demarcation being very clearly drawn in the convention, I often had, in concert with my colleague the Austrian commissioner, to rectify some small infringements in the position of the outposts. The most remarkable was the one which Prince Joseph Poniatowsky allowed himself on the frontier of Gallicia: informed that an Austrian column of a few militia battalions, having with them four pieces of cannon, was withdrawing into Hungary, where the whole Austrian army had rallied, he crossed the line of demarcation with a strong detachment, cut off this column, took an advantageous position on Austrian territory, and pretended to keep it, as well as the prisoners and artillery he had captured. I submitted to the major general the very well-founded complaints of the Austrian commissioner, and asked him for his orders before writing to Prince Poniatowsky. The major general answered me that this affair did not concern him, and that the execution of the treaty of armistice was entrusted to me under my responsibility.

Berthier: Oh, no, no. Leave me out of this. You know perfectly well how this will turn out. Go get through this one yourself.

I did not hesitate to give Prince Poniatowsky the order to comply with the treaty, to return the prisoners and the artillery, and to bring his troops within the line of demarcation. The emperor, directly informed by the prince of his incursion and of the advantages which could result from it in the event of the resumption of hostilities, did not approve my decision. He sent for me to give him an account of it in the presence of the prince major general and the viceroy of Italy; he strongly reproached me, as well as the major general, for wanting to protect the interests of the enemy and for courting them at his expense.

"What do you think you are doing, gentlemen, deciding on your own authority on matters of such importance? It is you who command the army, and I am here il ré di cope? Let us see, General Dumas, your register of correspondence."

[The Italian expression is unknown to me.]

I handed it to him, pointing out my last letter to Prince Poniatowsky; he went through it, displayed great irritation, and threw the register on the floor. As I was answering the questions he addressed to me on various points in dispute relating to the execution of the armistice, and more particularly on the place of Zara, in Dalmatia, which he demanded to be handed over immediately, Prince Eugène, who was walking with him, turned around and gestured to me not to answer; but this was impossible. Berthier kept the most obstinate silence.

This is the scene I just love to imagine: Napoleon, giving his sermon while stomping through the room, Eugène always at his heels and signaling in exasperation behind Napoleon’s back to Dumas to shut the F up, man, while Berthier pointedly stares at a corner of the room, zoomed out.

"You believe yourselves to be very important men, messieurs chiefs of staff! I have made you into too great lords, and you caress those of the Austrian court. If an Austrian general officer had taken it upon himself to give such orders, he would have been sent to a fortress. The chiefs of staff must only be instruments; I have only to bring in young Marboeuf, an ordinance officer, who is there in the salon de service, and I will make him my major general."

Which, I guess, shows how much respect Napoleon had for Berthier and his co-workers. Not. He basically states that every dimwit could do Berthiers job. (We’ll see about that during the Hundred Days, Your Imperial Snobbiness...)

After having thus indulged us, he dismissed us, and there was no more talk of this affair. [...] Although I feared that I had displeased him by doing my duty, I was nonetheless very well treated: the emperor named me grand officer of the Legion of Honour, and granted me an endowment of thirteen thousand francs from the property of convents suppressed in the duchy of Parma [...].

But as is the case so often, Napoleon is all bark, no bite 😊.

#napoleon's marshals #napoleon's generals #napoleon's family #louis alexandre berthier #eugene de beauharnais #mathieu dumas

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metanoiamorii · 3 years

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Wip Re-Introduction: A Rope In Hand

❛Horror is like a serpent; always shedding its skin, always changing. And it will always come back. It can’t be hidden away like the guilty secrets we try to keep in our subconscious.❜

♧ Title: A Rope In Hand [ARIH]

♧ Status: First Drafting

♧ Point of View: Third Person, flexible between a few

♧ Genre: Dark Fantasy, Supernatural, LGBTQ+, Action, Drama

♧ Warnings: This story revolves around the occult. There will be talk of witch hunts and trials and cults. There will be torture methods used to gain confessions, and these methods will be justified under religious belief. There will be toxic and abusive relationships, particularly family; finding an escape from them, and healing from the trauma. There will be homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, and colonization. There will be major character deaths, but I can spoil after the book ends the main characters do get a happy ending. Each chapter and scene posted will have personalized warnings, but these are the main things to expect.

♧ Featuring: The majority of the characters will be LGBTQ+, from pansexual, homosexual, to asexual; genderfluid, agender/nonbinary, and transgender. Each character is complex and morally grey. Yes, they will do things that are blatantly terrible, or actively good. Overall, they will be morally grey and questionable at best. There will be complex world-building, from both the universe it takes place in, and the religious pantheons brought up. The religions brought up will be polytheistic and animism-themed. The romance between the major characters will be slow-burn enemies to friend to lovers, and them learning to love themselves through one another. There will be an exploration on generational healing, and unlearning toxic, and bias believes.

♧ Setting: The setting is influenced by Victorian London, and Medieval Ireland. There will be mention of other places, primarily western Europe, the Ottoman Empire, Ancient Rome, Eastern Asia, and Napoleonic France.

♧ Synopsis:

In the town of Arkaley, in the northwest of the Duchy of Ruairc, the people have been plagued by bad fortune and crime. Attacks of bandits on the road, raids from pirates on the shores, untimely deaths of children and young women, elected officials coming out corrupt; there is no end in Arkaley of the suffering the locals endure.

Rationally, to explain such a bad string of luck, there is only one possible explanation: Witchcraft.

The Duchy of Ruairc already has a history of witchcraft: the Ó Ruaircs turned out to be witches, the Abondé incident in Salem, the Liathain incident in Trakee; the Ruaircs have their record. Perfectly acceptable for everyone to assume the worse of the Ruairish, as they have proved to be nothing but.

To prove his worth, the young Reverend Prudence Clemency Frye, takes up the task of quelling this coven of witches and heading this witch-hunt. Young and naïve, witch only knowledge from books and little hands-on experience, he’s unprepared for this challenge. When he finally leaves the town, well… everyone would rather put this incident behind them.

♧ Tease:

My darling dear, a knave so clear

You appear, so bravely near;

Do you hear my darling dear, sneers of austere jeers?

Behave, my dear, when I am near;

For peers will lear, in their fear,

Allow me o' dear our persevere

So my fave you appear

And volunteer a slave so dear

in an atmosphere we fear.

my darling dear, wave so clear

Depravely as we leave, and give a souvenir;

My lips to yours, as you crave in these fallin' years.

Be brave darling dear, and give into hearts o' queer.

For mine you be, your darling dear,

To the stars you have swore in love, so crystal clear.

My peers shall sneer, but whore I be, and you I crave

Oh so bare. slurs and glares, just listen to my prayers.

Kiss me love, and leave o'they to a'crave

In this atmosphere that we fear

Their own, o' pure, knave so dear.

♧ Excerpt:

".... This is wrong." Prudence finds the words slipping from his lips, voice a quiet whisper; a breathless tone of voice. He allows his fingertips to falter against scarred skin, watching as Mastema turned his cheek, he pressed himself into the palm of Prudence's hand. Eyes closed, a smile curled on his face. Prudence couldn't help but smile at the scene, but slowly, slowly, slowly, he rescinded his hand; breaking the hold.

"Revered..." Matching his voice, Mastema replied. Maintaining such a soft voice, as he shifted himself forward on the bed. One foot to the ground, the other drawn beneath himself. Over Prudence he leaned, resting one palm to the sheets, the other lifting to seize Prudence's hand before he could recoil back. "You have made me feel something in which I've never felt before..."

From where he laid, Prudence could only form a soft frown. He knew he could draw his hand back, the grip was far from tight. But he didn't. He laid there, allowing Mastema to hold his hand. "... This is wrong, Mastema."

Mastema frowned; he matched the reaction Prudence wore. Through it, he forced a half-smile, tightening his grip on the other's hand, and forward he brought Prudence's hands to kiss the knuckles. "... If this is wrong, I do not wish to be right."

At the response, Prudence shook his head. "It is not for us to be right or wrong, the gods—"

At the angle he sat, Mastema shifted once more. He dropped Prudence's hand, to lean forward; to lean in close. Both of his palms found the other's cheek, as he touched their foreheads to one another. "... Do not force your will onto another." In that soft whisper, he spoke. Eyes closed, breath drawn in. "Is that not a Commandment of our Creator?"

"I..." Prudence faltered. In, he drew his breath, to try to steady himself. "... I did not take you for the religious sorts."

"I'm not." Mastema all too quickly retorted. But as he was, he laid; this proximity. "But you are."

♧ Characters:

The Order of Witchesbane

Prudence Clemency Frye; The Reverend

Half Fae/Half Human • Intersex • Genderfluid • He/They • Homosexual • Homo-demiromantic

The bastard son of Lord Zachariah Frye. Raised by his father, with his mother dying young, he took to following in his footsteps. He became a religious young man and an active witch-hunter. A part of him desires his father’s acceptance, his praises; the other part despises his father and everything the man stands for. In recent years, he has joined the De La Cruz household, becoming an apprentice beneath the famous Witch’s Advocate; upholding the beliefs that not every witch is evil and has foul intentions, and the ones that mean harm are the only ones that should be hunted.

Zachariah Frye; The Bloodhound

Human • Male • He/Him • Bicurious • Aromantic

The oldest living member of the Order. Now he is the man that holds the face of the Order, who you think of when they come to mind. Cold. Vindictive. Despotic. Violent. He is not a good man. He is firm in his beliefs and stubborn to change. Once his mind is made up, he cannot be reasoned with. He is blindly convinced of his beliefs and his cause to eradicate every living witch, unfazed if he has to fill a few innocent thousands in the process.

Calisto Ferzan Hermengildo Melchior Lorencio De La Cruz; The Witch’s Advocate

Half Fae/Half Human • Amab • Nonbinary • Genderfluid • He/They • Asexual • Aromantic

A witch-hunter in title alone, Calisto has been making enemies since he could first talk. He’s always enjoyed being the underdog, going against the expectations of society, being ridiculed by his peers. The sole reason? Proving them wrong. To ridicule his own peers for their outdated beliefs, he’s taken to defending witches, proving them innocent of their ‘crimes’, and going on to help them to set up a life in a country more accepting of witchcraft

The servant of Calisto, never seen far from his side. He is a servant in name alone and is more-or-less an assassin, a hitman for Calisto. Held in contempt by Athylian society for being a foreigner, he often treated by others more as a slave than a servant. To help be unseen, to help the De La Cruz Household, Michelotto endures the treatment and goes as far to be perceived as ignorant, alongside him being born a mute. Keeping his true intents and intelligence duly guarded, only a handful are aware he is also a witch.

Myk'loumihr [Michelotto Dougal] Siavash; The Man-Servant

Witch; Amab • Agender • He/They • Asexual • Aromantic

Austin Duvine; The Lord Without A Ring

Half-Human/Half Fae • Amab • Nonbinary • He/They • Pansexual • Demiromantic

One of the younger members of the order, Austin relies on his father's wealth and name. He doesn't care for responsibilities, he doesn't care for hard work. He's a playboy at heart. He's fit to hold social events, and use his natural talent to gib and fib his way through life. He'll keep his mixed feelings to himself, struggling with doing the right thing or upholding tradition.

Alistair Lavine; The Witchfinder General

Human • Amab • Agender • He/They • Bicurious • Aromantic

The best friend to Zachariah and his right hand. Where Zachariah is business and lacks charms, Alistair can charm a crowd and hold their attention. He knows how to feign being an ideal human, without letting on his own bloodlust; he's a monster in human skin. At the end of the day, unlike Zachariah, Alistair does have morals and standards he will abide by, even if they come back to ruin him.

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The Vakari Coven

Ausrine Baoghal; The Lady

Witch • Female • She/Her • Bisexual • Aromantic

The woman in charge of the town, widowed and inheriting the right to rule as her husband had no heirs. She is a manipulative and dangerous woman, eager to commit any sin or crime for more power. She, in truth, cares only for herself and would feel no remorse if she had to turn on one of her coven to further her own agenda.

The magistrate and also the chief policeman of the town. He maintains a calm, but manipulative personality. As a front, he presents himself to be fair and just, liked and favored by the people for genuinely caring for them. While in truth he has his own heinous and sinister agenda, aiding Ausrine in her plans.

Leary O'Laoghaire; The Magistrate

Witch • Male • He/Him • Bicurious • Aromantic

The oldest member of the coven, Dairine lives under the guise of an elderly woman, who lives alone with her children and grandchildren already leaving her to live their own lives. She is a kind and understanding woman and cares for the younger witches in the coven. She will not support Baríon with her agenda, nor does she care for the servant girl, she even despises the so-called ally Ausrine claims to have and who they all adhere to.

Dairine Ó Séaghdha; The Crone

Witch • Afab • Agender • She/They • Asexual • Aromantic

The acting servant of Barion, Anisha’s true loyalties lie elsewhere. She stays within the town, serving the coven while acting as the eyes and ears of someone, the person who is truly pulling the strings. She is the one to relay information and letters between the coven and her master. She is a quiet woman, that keeps her head down and her mind to herself. She only shows her true, confident and demanding, nature behind closed doors with the coven when they dare to question her.

Anisha Kaur; The Servant

Witch • Afab • Demigirl • She/They • Asexual • Aromantic

The charming son of Leary. Many whisper that is part fae, due to his charm, if it’s true or not many are unaware. He is a very sophisticated young man, that has managed to wrap the entire town around his finger. While on the surface he is alike his father is a caring, compassionate, charming young man, something sinister brews beneath. He is devious, demanding, domineering.

Nathir O'Laoghaire; The Magistrate’s Son

Half-Witch/Half-Fae • Amab • Agender • He/Him • Bisexual • Aromantic

Being the baker's daughter, Liannah helps around the bakery and family business. Unlike the company she keeps, she is a reserved young woman. She is polite and maintains her manners with whomever she is dealing with. She has the patience of a saint and rarely loses her cool. Liannah is a woman with a calm demeanor about her, being a woman many are comfortable around due to her peaceful and calm aura.

Liannah Ó Buachalla; The Baker’s Daughter

Witch • Afab • Genderfluid • She/They • Asexual • Panromantic

Ausrine's bastard son she had with a spirit she bargained with for more power. Since he was young, he was raised by the servants of the house, and the coven, over his own mother; the two have more of a business relationship over a family one. Since he cares less about what his mother does, he spends his time with Liannah and Reyes, either at the bakery or getting into trouble somewhere. With Reyes as an influence, Mastema is a flirtatious man that enjoys scandals and making the most of life

Mastema Baoghal; The Knave

Half-Witch/Half-Spirit • Amab • Genderfluid • He/They • Pansexual • Demiromantic

Rochan Misra; The Charlatan

Half-Witch/Half-Spirit • Amab • Queer • He/She • Pansexual • Aromantic

A foreigner to the Coven, born and raised in the Duchy of Incali. At a young age, he became a traveling charlatan, recently settling within the coven only as he befriended Liannah and Mastema and enjoyed their company. Now, he is the local bad influence: scamming locals out of their money at the taverns, wooing and seducing young men and ladies alike, always trespassing and vandalizing something. He is trouble but has a heart of gold when it matters.

ARIH: : @hekat-ie, @writings-of-a-narwhal, @silent-creed

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Taglist:

General: @endlesshourglass, @writerray, @poore-choice-of-words, @alexwritesfiction, @primusesgiantmetalballbearings

Both: @cecilsstorycorner, @little-boats-on-a-lake, @hazard-writes, @egg-shark

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kashimalin-fanfiction · 3 years

Text

L’Éternel Cirque (Chapter 7: Her Choice)

A circus that only opens at nightfall. The same cast performs the acts, no matter how many years have passed. Individuals who once came as children recognize the smile of the lion tamer or the confidence of the acrobats, wondering if they are the same people from all those years ago. But of course, such a feat is impossible – even for a circus.

Elizabeth’s desire to stay remained even as the final night began, the flood of patrons at sundown a ferocious swell. She forced herself to enjoy the circus in a half-hearted attempt to ignore the feeling, spending her last evenings chasing Napoleon and Sebastian around through their favorite tents.

The Star Chaser tent had caught her attention when she had passed it by with Vincent and Theo earlier that week. It was rumored that incredibly lucky patrons might have the chance to catch a falling star while they wandered through the tent – the rare souvenir from the circus that did not come from a ticket stub or candy bag.

Under this faux sky, Elizabeth believed that they looked completely out of reach. Napoleon and Sebastian both confessed that they had yet to catch a star of their own, chalking it up to being members of the circus.

“All my wishes are already true, for the most part,” Napoleon admitted. “It’s just wanting to improve my magic now.”

“You still look so relieved when you say that,” Sebastian said, deadpan. “Are you that thrilled that she knows our secret?”

“Of course! Keeping it a secret this whole time, concealing our magic… it was more stressful than my first act!”

The three laughed, Elizabeth most of all. The now ever-present ache swelled up in her heart as she did so. She was going to miss moments like this, more than she could care to admit.

So when she opened her eyes and saw a falling star, instinct took over first. A silent wish trembled at the back of her mind, ever present since last night.

Then she remembered the stories of this tent.

A star would be something tangible to remember the circus by. To take home.

She went chasing after where she had seen it fall, leaving Napoleon and Sebastian behind. She knew that they would always be close, naturally following her two seconds later to keep a close eye on her.

The star had reached the ground. It was near-blinding up close, but began to decrease in intensity as she knelt down to pick it up.

Then she felt something else take hold. From one caught breath to the next, one moment ticking to another, Elizabeth was suddenly aware that her body was not her own. It forced her to hand, arms still stuck out awkwardly until pushed to relax.

Is this what Sebastian and Jean felt? When Vlad cast his spell? I— I don’t— I can’t—!

“Hello. It’s nice to get to see you again.” Vlad laughed darkly as he leaned over her shoulder, looking down at the star that lay at their feet. “You shouldn’t need to wish for something you can have so easily. If you just asked The Illusionist ever so nicely, I’m sure he would let you stay.”

She wanted to cry out – to demand that he let go of whatever foreign hold he had placed over her body – but instead he came and wrapped an arm about her waist.

“Forgive me, but I think we should wait for your ever-watchful protector to arrive. In fact…” He gestured down at the star at their feet. “He’ll be here soon.”

The star, which had been steadily dimming, now glowed even brighter, nearly blinding Elizabeth until she was permitted to close her eyes.

The Illusionist’s voice came before his figure did.

“I had to stop my show for this?”

He appeared when Elizabeth opened her eyes. Vlad let out a laugh as Elizabeth caught sight of The Illusionist’s dark and furious expression, unlike any face that he had worn before.

“It’s nice that you bothered to stop by and visit an old friend,” Vlad taunted, tucking his chin against Elizabeth’s frozen shoulder.

“I more see it as stopping a trespasser who knows that he has no right stepping foot into my circus.” The Illusionist gave Vlad a discomforting smile, all venom and no warmth. “You should have sent a notice ahead of time so that I could grind it into dust.”

“Still insisting on clinging to the circus, even when I know you’re just trying to fill the gap in your heart? Do you know how long I believed the lie I told myself? That you were gathering all these silly little students for another proper duel?” Vlad’s polite tone was soon spit through his gritted teeth, angry and harsh. “Only for you to disappoint me time and time again?”

“That’s what I was in the end – a disappointment. And that has not changed.”

“It changes tonight! I found two suitable candidates for the duel of a lifetime – the perfect vessels for my teachings. So, I saved you the trouble and found a partner with enough magic and mettle to fight them.”

“You know my stance on forcing students to take éternité.”

“Ever the gentleman to ask for permission. And that made your students weak. As soft as their master.” Vlad crushed the fallen star then, grinding it beneath his heel. “Too soft to offer this young woman a chance to change her destiny. Because I know he can sense how powerful you are. Can’t you?!”

The Illusionist stood resolute. “No.”

“What a load of shit. I know you can!” Vlad’s voice flared, frustration thinly veiled in his voice. Elizabeth felt a rush of instinct, pushing against his arm. She only earned a tighter grip for her efforts.

“Never,” The Illusionist declared, his voice thick with anger. “I will not force éternité on helpless people who do not know what they are agreeing to. Who do not know the difficulties that will come with such a life. I will not do as you do and force it upon others.”

“And what does that get you? It gets you people with useless powers. Has your little inventor been able to do anything on his own yet? What have your artists and ‘conceptualists’ given you? You are wasting the power of Latent magic. There’s enough magical potential in her to leave even your best and brightest pupils behind! You can’t let her power go to waste! Give her éternité, or I’ll do it myself!”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I know you can’t stop me. You have this whole circus under your protection. You used up enough magic this past week trying to prevent every single one of my purposeful accidents before they occurred. All you did was tell your little students to watch out for me. Never once did you tell them to use their own magic to watch their backs.”

“They shouldn’t have to fear someone like you, who is too weak to resist temptation. Now, let her go.”

The command was accompanied by a thundering roar from above their heads.

The stars in the false sky shuddered before falling in a grand waterfall. Vlad dove back, dragging Elizabeth with him – his grip and magical hold loosening for a moment.

That was all she needed.

She pulled back, separating and rushing toward The Illusionist. The cascading stars that separated them were white-hot, their heat growing as she forced herself closer to them. Any distance would do, she told herself, to get away from Vlad.

But just as the stars singed strands of her hair, someone else grabbed her hand, pulling her away from the falling star. Their hold was less aggressive, more welcoming. It was then that Vlad finally caught sight of her and her unknown companion, lunging forward—

— and his hand struck an invisible barrier that neither Elizabeth nor Vlad could see. As Vlad stared down at her, the stars finally finished their fall. The tent went dark.

“I’m afraid you’ve encountered one of my specialties,” Sebastian’s voice said from behind her then, the same polite tone he always had. “I’m the one responsible for those protections you encountered around the circus, not our resident Illusionist.”

Vlad scoffed, pushing off the barrier. “It’s easily broken.”

“Then I dare you to break it.”

The man looked as if he intended to do just that, but a crackling fire snapped at him a second later, forcing Vlad to counter with a well-timed crest of water that forced it back. The Illusionist still stood proud and tall, manifesting and throwing a dagger that aimed true for Vlad’s heart.

It missed with a swipe of the Vlad’s hand, heading off into the depths of the tent. The Magicians resumed their duel, more aggressive than before. Their magical attacks lit up their grim, concentrated expressions.

Shakespeare’s fortune, told just over a week ago, echoed in the back of her mind.

“A strong, powerful figure. Currently very prominent in your life. Or possibly influenced your life’s path. The reversal implies that the figure is also concealing something. About themselves or the circumstances. They didn’t tell you everything.”

The golden outline of The Hierophant on his gilded throne had once seemed impossible to decipher.

But now he could have been either of the men that dueled before her.

Neither showed an ounce of fatigue, but as Sebastian continued to hold Elizabeth’s arm, she sensed his fingers shaking against it.

“Sebastian?”

“Just stay still, Elizabeth. And forgive me if I do not offer my usual pleasant conservation.” He smiled, gritted teeth visible behind trembling lips, illuminated by the sparking magical attacks around them. “It is taking every ounce of my concentration to maintain this.”

Her hand went to his. “You can do it, Sebastian. Hold on as long as you can.”

The trembling stopped a moment later, a quiet acknowledgement passing between the two that Sebastian could still keep going.

The duel had now reached a feverish pitch. A large arcing slide cut the tent fabric open wide, the pitched black of the space now open to the blue night sky. All could be seen now.

And that included Napoleon, who finally appeared from the darkness. At his side was Leonardo, who appeared from the darkness flanked by others from the inner circle of the circus. The fighting did not cease, but Leonardo’s voice carried over it regardless, magically enhanced.

“Did you really think that he wouldn’t take his necessary precautions?” Leonardo declared, a wicked grin on his face. “Every one of us has got a bit of the circus now. And speaking of that, your ex-friend told me something interesting… that, despite your students being the better players, our resident Illusionist was always the stronger magician.”

There was a break in Vlad’s expression then – bleakness flickered in his red eyes for but one moment – then replaced with a fiery anger.

“That explains it, then,” he spit out, The Illusionist pausing in his attacks as Vlad continued speaking. “This fight has felt unfair since the beginning.”

“You always did want me to acknowledge how good you were,” The Illusionist said with a wicked smile. “I suppose you will have to hear it another time. Give it another millennium or two.”

Vlad took one, two steps back – then his gaze snapped to Elizabeth and Sebastian. With swift strides, he was outside the barrier once more, joined by six floating swords. One at his neck, another at his back, and the remaining four hovering over where limbs met his torso.

“One more move and you will leave in pieces,” The Illusionist said coolly. “And I would rather not let the lady see that.”

“I just wanted to perform one last act,” Vlad said, a smile tugging at his lips. “Perhaps a trick far more effective than anything either of us can do.” Leaning down, he paid no mind to the sword’s edge that touched his neck as he did so, drawing blood.

“You have magic, my dear. And you’re better than the rest of them because you can already use it. This barrier—” he rapped it with his knuckles, no sound coming from the act— “It’s only still up because of you. So I suggest you reconsider going home. There’s something here for you after all. You’re stronger than you could ever believe. You don’t ever have to leave.”

“Vlad!”

The swords sliced through a thick black smoke. The barrier collapsed then, Sebastian falling against Elizabeth for unprepared support. The two tumbled to the ground. The Illusionist rushed over to them both.

But when Elizabeth looked to him with a mixture of hope and fear in her eyes, The Illusionist heard her question before she uttered it in a single, stunned breath.

───────── ⋆⋅♠⋅⋆ ─────────

“I have magic?”

The Illusionist had not wanted her to come to this realization. Their meeting should have been happenstance – a chance encounter at the circus, a later return within five years to reassess her progress. To see if she was willing to throw her entire life away to join their traveling troupe.

He had felt her potential the moment she set foot in his circus. In his tent, the sensation had been even more apparent. He knew that the peak performance he gave that evening was due to her influence. An old, unwelcome sensation gnawed at his heart – a desire to steal her away from her life entirely and push magical studies on her until she was the perfect magician.

That desire was crushed as swiftly as the pen he crushed to black ink next to her seat.

However, all his resistance had been for naught when Vlad forced her into his circus. He knew he could send her back across the ocean with magic, remove her memories, and leave her behind.

But perhaps a greedy, undesirable part of him had wanted to keep her. Just to see if she would stay.

───────── ⋆⋅♠⋅⋆ ─────────

“… Yes, ma chérie.” His words were tinged with a pained regret.

She did not ask her second question until Sebastian and the others had been safely tended to, and she was settled once more in The Illusionist’s tent.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked as she stood next to him.

The obvious second question. “It was not a fact you were prepared to hear. Despite being part of this circus, despite being forced onto our train – it was not my place to tell you. This is not part of your life’s path, not yet.”

“But I could have helped! Maybe I could have been able to fight off Vlad or protect myself!”

“Do you remember what I said about éternité? It was purposefully manifested to grant our students the lifetime they needed to learn their magic. It is a curse and a blessing in equal force. You could not have mastered the magic needed to protect you against Vlad, not in the span of three days.”

“That…” Elizabeth’s gaze dropped to the ground, shame in her eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize.” The Illusionist reached out, tucking a finger under her chin to lift her head higher. “The fault of your arrival and lack of return is all mine. Therefore, it is my responsibility to see you safely home.”

“… Will you at least tell me about my magic, then? Before I go. Am I like you and Leonardo?”

“Not in the slightest. There are two forms. My form – and Leonardo’s – are Potent Magicians. Our magic is passed down through our families. It is far stronger than the magic that exists in humans like yourself and everyone else in the circus. We’re able to access it from a young age.”

“But humans…”

“You cannot dream of magic like ours. You possess Latent Magic, which we refine into Manifested Magic. It takes years, longer than lifetimes to gain the full potential of your magic. That is why éternité exists. It exists because two very selfish men wanted to see who was the better teacher. And now it propels this entire circus.”

Elizabeth knew the regret in his gaze now. It was beyond her mortal comprehension – centuries of pain and suffering that would have killed a weaker individual a hundred times over. This man wore it beneath a smile and a cryptic turn of phrase, so practiced that it was as natural as breathing.

She did not prod further – and nor was she given the chance to, as a mechanical machine soared through the flap in the tent. Elizabeth jumped back as it came to a shuddering stop above their heads, only able to examine it proper once The Illusionist reached up to bring it down from the air. A tiny bird had been crafted from gears and spare metal bits.

“Enchanting and manipulating objects is a fondness of Leonardo’s,” The Illusionist explained as he took a paper from the piler-tipped beak. “Which falls perfectly in line with what I asked him and Isaac to finish for me…”

“What did they make?”

The Illusionist rubbed the small note between his fingers, letting it fade into a small shower of silver sparkles. “Would you like to come see?”

───────── ⋆⋅♠⋅⋆ ─────────

“Come look!” Isaac declared as they arrived. “We just put the finishing touches on. We were almost done, but…”

“No matter.” The Illusionist waved off the comment. “Thank you for doing it at all.”

Leonardo, clearly in the throes of wrapping up something, gestured vaguely towards the rest of the tent. “They’re on the table, Isaac. Get them for me.”

Last time Elizabeth had been inside this tent, it had been in order to help Jean after his horrific sword-swallowing accident. Now, she was permitted the moment to glance around the over-crowded space. Any surface was crowded with little mechanical parts, absent scribbles in two handwritings, and half-finished inventions that still miraculously moved on their own.

One invention suddenly jumped to life next to her – a large frog with pearl-like eyes – causing her to step back with a slight squeak. Isaac rolled his eyes, but picked up a box from next to the mechanical creature as it hopped off the table and out of sight.

“Here. These are for you. Leonardo helped to make them more stylish, since The Illusionist said we should. We hope these are something you’ll wear.” Isaac awkwardly thrusted the box towards her as Leonardo finally stood up from his desk, joining the group. “Let us know if you won’t.”

“Thank you,” she said with a smile, accepting it. When she opened the box, she gasped at what was nestled inside.

She lifted the golden chain out from the box, a small golden butterfly dangling at the bottom. Iridescent wings caught the tent’s hanging lights, sparkling in a thousand brilliant colors. Left in the box was a bracelet of a similar make, the butterfly dangling from one of the interlocked chains.

“Oh! Isaac! You should have at least said they were beautiful!”

“The butterflies were Leonardo’s idea,” Isaac confessed.

“And something you sketched out,” Leonardo teased with a smile. “But these bracelets are meant to protect you from harm. We wish we could have finished them sooner, but…”

As Leonardo spoke, Elizabeth could not help but be distracted by the occasional gear or part that whizzed across the room, perfectly slotting itself into one machine or another. When one whizzed just shy of her cheek, Isaac finally let out an irritated sigh and glared at Leonardo.

“Can you stop fixing your inventions for two seconds?”

“I’ll forget the idea unless I do it or write it down,” Leonardo said back, his tone unbothered. “Ideas always come to me when I’m doing something else.”

“As they do for the best of us,” The Illusionist agreed. “Now, you were saying?”

“Ah, right. Someone in the circus will be alerted if magic is used on you or around you, whether you’re a country or an ocean away. Because we can’t really do anything depending on the distance, though I’m sure they’ll try—” His glance to The Illusionist did not go unnoticed— “It also generates a protective field around you. It’s a weak one, so the best bet is to start running if it goes off.”

“How lovely,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “Thank you. I can imagine this took a lot of magic and time.”

“It was nothing.” Leonardo declared dismissively, Isaac nodding in agreement. “We even made some spares, in case something happens to the ones you’ve got in your hands.”

“The best thing to do now is put it on.” The Illusionist spoke as he reached out, taking the necklace in one hand and brushing her long hair aside with the other. He clasped it into place, letting out a relieved sigh as the charm fell against her collarbone. “There. Now I feel much more comfortable letting you go home.”

The weight of that four-letter word sank uncomfortably in Elizabeth’s heart.

───────── ⋆⋅♠⋅⋆ ─────────

Several hours later, they were on a train back to Europe.

Everyone noted that this pace was a bit faster than their usual trips. Footing felt a bit more unsteady than the usual ride that they were accustomed to. The unchanging ocean appeared to whiz by a bit quicker.

Most members made it a point of showing up to dinner, if only to ensure that they could see Elizabeth off. Jean and Leonardo, in particular, made a point of sitting at her table one night so that they could properly apologize for such terrible things being her last memories of the circus.

At that, Elizabeth shook her head. “It’s all right. I still had a wonderful time, and I am honored to have had such an experience. And I was even thinking…”

The Illusionist paused then, fork halfway to his mouth. He set it down, giving Elizabeth a pointed stare. “If you are about to say that you want to stay with us…”

“I’d been considering it! Nothing more. But both you and Vlad said that I had magic like everyone else here. If I stayed, it would give me the opportunity to make stronger memories, and help you keep an eye on all of me.”

The table was quiet, and as she spoke, the rest of the dining car fell silent, too. All eyes were on Elizabeth and The Illusionist, the latter of whom set down his silverware and laced his fingers together.

“Elizabeth. Joining L’Éternel Cirque means that you could never leave. You would stay here to study your magic, live for an extended time thanks to the powers that éternité would grant you. The outside world would become a much more troublesome place to be. You could stay a human – as Sebastian did, for a time – but with Vlad active, I’m not sure if keeping you out of contact with your magic, but within the circus, is our best move.”

“Would letting me out of the circus keep me safer, then?”

“It would be us effectively cutting ties with you. Vlad cannot track you, even if you shared a previous link with us at the circus. I recall you saying that you came to the circus from far enough out of town – he has no idea where you live. I believe it is the safest measure for you to go home, with these protections, but… the ultimate choice is up to you.”

Elizabeth was silent for a moment, then nodded once as tears came to her eyes. “I understand. Then I’ll go home. I haven’t wanted to worry anyone this much, and I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for myself.”

“Ah, chin up, Newt!” Arthur’s voice suddenly rang out, a hint of sadness in his usual chipper tone. “It’s not like Lizzy’s leaving forever! Who knows, maybe we’ll get to see her sooner than we expect!"

"I'm not upset, you idiot,” Isaac shot back, but as Elizabeth leaned to glance at Isaac’s face, she caught the way he was biting at his lip and trying to hold back tears.

“I promise I’ll try to visit again when you all return,” she said. “And then you can show me all how much you’ve improved with magic, right?”

“Absolutely!” Vincent said, beaming. “We would all be happy to escort you around every night of the week!”

“I doubt you could make it out to your area that much,” Theo added, “but we’d arrange something with you ahead of time if we knew we were in the area.”

As somber subjects turned to happier plans for the future, Leonardo leaned over to tap The Illusionist’s elbow. The two men leaned in close, Leonardo’s whisper barely audible.

“What did you say her magic was again?”

“Well, I don’t think I ever said.” The Illusionist smiled mysteriously, glancing once at Elizabeth. "But if I had to hazard a guess, I would say that she is nearly limitless. The kind of power that would be the envy of all. However…”

Leonardo glowered as The Illusionist trailed off, laughing when he caught sight of his friend’s frustrated expression.

“Her natural magic is bringing out the best in others. She brings people together in ways they never imagined before. You surely noticed how much less fighting and resistance there was with her here.”

“That would definitely explain it.”

“The circus members were also more powerful. I have no doubt that even her sleeping Latent magic allowed Theo to break that spell or inspired one of the most creative bursts I have seen out of any of you. I think that, if she had chosen to stay with us, this circus would have remained a much more peaceful place.” The Illusionist leaned back, resuming his meal. “But, as usual, that is not my choice to make. It is hers alone.”

Leonardo leaned back as well, nodding once. “Agreed, old friend.”

───────── ⋆⋅♠⋅⋆ ─────────

The Illusionist and Elizabeth watched as her proper train pulled into the station, prepared to take her home. He took those final moments to turn and ask, “Do you have all your belongings?”

“You double-checked before I left.”

“Do you have the bracelet and necklace that we gave you? Along with the back-ups?”

“I have them! I can show them to you.”

Letting out a gentle laugh, he waved his hand. “There’s no need. I know you have them. Just be sure to keep them safe and always know that you can find a way to contact me. Myself or Leonardo will answer.”

She cast a sidelong glance his way. “I’m thankful that you still trusted Leonardo and the others with more of the circus.”

The Illusionist shuffled his feet, coughing and turning away from her gaze. “They need to learn some independence. Leonardo in particular. I don't want to be responsible for him for the rest of his life.” Her laugh made her smile, and he found himself saying, “But you did that, too. I think you changed everyone at the circus, ma chérie. Whether you noticed or not.”

“If you say so,” she said, a sad smile on her lips. “I’m almost sad to leave. It was nice getting to know everyone, and the past week and a half just flew by. It was like magic – real magic.”

“And it’s a place you can always return to, should we be in the area.” Taking her free hand, he pressed a kiss to the back of it. “Now, don’t miss your train.”

The Illusionist released her, letting her take those last few steps toward her train car. Allowing her to make the final choice for herself, as he always wished for her to have.

(But, for a moment, it appeared as if she was turning around.)

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp big bang

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omniswords · 4 years

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Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 8

now that La Joconde is over, i can give a lot more attention back to Chronicles. i know we’ve been wicked overdue for an update, so thank you so so so much for being patient with me as i’ve been working through it. i really hope you like today’s update, and that you can give it a reblog if you enjoyed it so other people can too 💙🎶💖

boy i sure hope these orders didn’t have one of those “send your cutest delivery boy” requests

i mean, on the one hand, i’m flattered and my boss is absolutely right

but the things you do for Bread, smh.

It was bound to happen, Luka keeps telling himself as he loads up his bike, and as he straps on his helmet, and as he rides over bridges and through busy streets to get his work done. His stomach’s been turning ever since he checked the delivery tickets, and every anxious feeling’s been flitting under his skin, and it was only a matter of time before he’d have to make a delivery to Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s literal, actual, entire house.

(Well. It didn’t actually have one of those “send your cutest delivery boy” requests. But it did ask for him by name. And he’s barely been able to keep still, with his name in her voice buzzing in his head, ever since.)

The other households don’t do much to ease his mind. At best, the rides and the thirty-second interactions numb him, but only for a short moment. Every time he mounts his bike again and pedals away, he’s reminded that he’s one step closer to her place.

It shouldn’t even get to him as much as it does. He’s been doing this job for ages now, in spite of what little upward mobility there is. It gets the bills paid, and he’s good enough at what he does that the place gives him steady hours, and admittedly, it’s nice to peek into the lives of strangers for all thirty of those seconds. The birthday party he’s accidentally interrupted, where he’s suddenly hailed as a hero because he’s got pizza. The post-breakup night in, where a guy he’s never even met sounds like the screeching drag of a bow across a violin bridge. The family who’s too tired to cook because the mother has cancer and the father’s tired of barley soup and pasta and the daughter, who’s still living with her parents in her late twenties because she has to, only just got home from a bit of overtime.

(Most of these are just fancies, of course. He’ll be the first to admit he lets his imagination run away with him sometimes. But he’ll also be the first to say that someone in the world must be living like that. To someone in the world, that has to be real.)

Besides. He’s been to the bakery plenty of times before, knows well enough that the Dupain-Cheng family lives just above it, which is just about as fanciful as he’d expected. He’s spoken to Marinette a handful of times. He’s been on the business end of her witty words, wherever she got them from. Hell, he even gave her the note.

It’s just that… that’s the bakery. Not her house.

He’s never peeked into her story. Never even thought beyond what she’s allowed him to have. And he knows that whatever he sees will be real.

Luka’s mostly running on auto-pilot by the time he makes it to Tom and Sabine��s, and part of him has to wonder if it’s because he’s been at this job for too long, or if he’s been to the bakery too many times for his own good. (Honestly, he’d wager it’s a bit of both.) The bakery is closed for now, so he texts the number on the ticket—maybe Mr. Dupain’s, maybe Marinette’s.

He’s never texted her before. He doesn’t even have her number.

Should he ask for her number?

Would she even want his? Or would she feel like the creep because he’s the one on the clock?

Before he can ask himself any more questions, the light to the bakery turns on, and the front door opens, and the tinkling of the bell grabs his attention. And there’s Marinette, in a camisole and heart-patterned sleep shorts and slippers. And there’s black, and there’s a little lace right on the neckline, and—

And he’s staring.

And she’s starting to blush.

He tries his best to cock his brow, and holds up the delivery box. “You rang?”

God, he wishes that could have come out smoother.

At least Marinette laughs. Even if it might have just been a pity laugh. “Papa,” she says, trading the box and the paper bag for a few bills. “I guess he knew you worked there or something. He, uh… suggested. Very… very firmly. That we order from this place, once he found out we were considering it.”

“We?”

A whistle interrupts them, soft and low and sounding halfway impressed. Luka catches the glint of glasses and a flash of reddish hair as Marinette whips around and hisses, “Would you go upstairs? You’re supposed to be picking a movie!”

“Are you kidding? This is the movie!” The redhead, whoever they are, calls out, but the sound of footsteps receding tells him it isn’t long before they’re in the clear again. Just the two of them, caught in an interaction that probably should have already ended. And he’s stuck wondering if she doesn’t want it to end, either—because maybe they’re not quite in the clear, or at least, she isn’t yet. She’s got a whole best friend upstairs, probably waiting to grill her on every little detail.

(Every little detail of what? It’s just him…)

Marinette rolls her eyes and shakes her head as she turns back to him. “Sorry. Best friends, right?”

Luka manages a shrug and a weak laugh of his own. He doesn’t much feel like talking about how his best friends are his literal blood and the thing almost constantly strapped to his back. And that most of the people who approximate friendship are on the other side of a screen and will probably never see him in real life, whatever that is. “How long have you known her?”

“Long time. Since she moved here from Martinique. We were basically attached at the hip in like, middle school.” She shifts her weight from foot to foot; to Luka, it doesn’t go unnoticed. “It’s hard for us to meet up anymore—travel journalism, studying abroad, all that stuff. We only really get to FaceTime these days. Other than that… it has its hiccups here and there, but I love her. You know? And sometimes she can be a little, uh… overzealous? In what she does?”

“I heard that!” a voice comes from the stairwell.

Marinette doesn’t even have to turn and glare for the rest of the footsteps to fall away. “Sorry,” she mumbles again. “You didn’t exactly come here to hear chunks of my life story, did you.”

“I don’t mind your life story,” he says, thumbing through the bills to count them. “With a job like this, I get to carry a little bit of everybody with me, and hearing about your best friend beats the eightieth guy trying to tell me about his divorce and how women are just trying to suck us dry.” Then his brow furrows, in spite of his own sarcasm, and he looks up. “You gave me extra. Like, way extra.”

“Oh, uh…” Marinette laughs nervously. “Yeah, I guess that’s a habit I picked up. Tipping is a thing in the States. People think you’re a jerk if you don’t do it, so my brain sort of… went on autopilot.” She rubs the back of her neck, maybe out of modesty, and Luka can’t tell if it’s because of the amount of money she gave him, or because of the experiences she’s had.

“Well…” He counts out the extra bills. “Here, you should take these back, then—”

“No, no.” She shakes her head, gestures as if to push the money back towards him. “Don’t worry about it. Keep it.”

“As what? A souvenir from New York?”

Marinette grins. It’s slow, and lazy, and it might make his heart thud in his chest at a hundred kilometers an hour, and he’s definitely thinking, don’t look at the lace, do NOT look at the lace. “Think of it as me making up for all the times I could’ve let you have a napoleon on the house, but didn’t.”

Luka blinks at her a couple of times. More than a couple of times. Too many words are bubbling in his throat and behind his teeth, desperate to get out, but his brain can’t catch up with any of them, and he doesn’t even know what order to put them in besides. Part of him wants to figure out something smooth to say, part of him wants to laugh like an idiot and thank her, and part of him wants to take the worst leap possible and ask what she’s doing on Saturday. But before he can prioritize any of them and put his dignity even more at risk, a holler comes from upstairs—”Marinette!”—and he jolts back in attention. He crumples the money in his fists and swallows his heart back down into his chest, and if he looks closely, Marinette’s cheeks are turning bright red, and her teeth are sinking into her lip as if… holding something back.

“I better go,” she says, nodding toward the stairs and taking a step back. She’s standing on the sides of her feet, and it’s honestly adorable. “Keep the change. I mean it, okay?”

Luka wants to protest—wants to say something about how his mother always told him never to take a single euro he didn’t honestly work for. Instead, he crumples the money in his fist, nods dumbly, and pockets it. “Hey,” he says, just as he senses she’s about to turn on her heel and speedwalk back up the stairs.

Marinette looks at him, and in the moment he gets that bubbling-word feeling in the back of his throat again. At least the mortifying thought of asking her out has died down, but it’s been replaced with something worse: the reminder that, for some reason, she and his sister know each other. Is it weird? he wants to ask. Are you sure it’s not weird seeing me? Is there something going on? Did Jules do something to you? Did you do something to her? Are you mad that I didn’t say anything? Are you okay?

Are you okay, Marinette?

Instead, he clears the words out of his throat, and shakes his head, and he hopes Marinette isn’t running a million worst-case scenarios in her head the way he does when someone looks or sounds even mildly displeased. He hopes she isn’t blaming herself the way he does when someone looks like they have something to tell him and then… don’t. “Next time I swing by,” he says, “will that napoleon be on the house?”

Her expression doesn’t take very long to go soft, even though her grip on the delivery box tightens. “Who knows?” she murmurs, and it’s… strange, how the tongue-in-cheek traces in her voice comfort him more than they put him on edge. “Guess you’ll just have to come back and find out.”

Then she turns on her heel, nearly bumps into the counter on her way to the stairs, and—and she really does spare him one more glance, the kind that says she’d wave good night if her hands weren’t full. Without much thinking, he does the waving for both of them, with a smile he knows is nervous and crooked spreading across his face. And then he’s the one to bump backwards into the door, the bell above giggling and announcing his clumsiness, before he stumbles to his bike and speeds away. He knows better than to text and bike, even if he could brag that sometimes he’s halfway decent at it, but at least he waits until he gets to the Canal Saint-Martin so he can have that silent-screaming moment alone.

so not only did I get that bread today, i got a whole fuckin sandwich. if we’re going by that whole metaphor i mean.

speaking of figurative language, you know, that thing i never thought i’d use once i graduated from high school… dear CBG: when i told you i hope you found all that money on the ground, i didn’t mean GIVE IT TO ME.

#miraculous ladybug #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #fic: chronicles of a parisian dumbass #hey i'm thriving #please enjoy and drop a reblog if you can <3

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gypsophiaa · 5 years

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click for better quality!

don’t repost! reblogs appreciated (・ωｰ)～☆

meet Stella, my Blood Donation / IkeVamp Persona! more detailed description under the cut!

she's not that different from my Cradlesona, but i did change some stuff that are half true irl to make her fit well in the ikevamp universe. i mean i wish i can speak and understand several languages so i downloaded duolingo skskskksks

go make your own Blood Donation! Here's my lil reference you can use, I added some more details to fit in the story :) also, a big thanks to @trulipan for the inspiration of using the character screen!

*disclaimer: the character screen belongs to Cybird, the character info and sprite are fan made :)

Basic Info:

Nicknames: Stella, Sol (Leonardo), Peaches (Arthur and Comte)

Birthday: October 21

Age: 25

Height: 156 cm

Nationality: Filipina

Blood Type: A

Physical:

Eyes: bluish purple

Hair: gray platinum with bluish tips, short and wavy

Accessories: golden hoop earrings, sunflower pin (a souvenir she bought before arriving to the musee)

Features: beauty mark above her left lip, a fainter mark on her right cheek

Illnesses: sleep deprived (?)

Social:

Species: Human

Previous Occupation: Graphic Designer

Occupation: Right-Hand Woman (Assistant)

Relationships:

Arthur Conan Doyle, bickering writing buddy. They often get mistaken as siblings and it peeves them both. Stella dislikes his flirty and teasing personality a lot but she’s more than willing to lend a hand if he starts to run out of ideas (which is NOT her body). He loves to tease her and get her on her toes, which resulted to Sebastian lecturing him quite often. Ironically, they’re close friends

The Count of St. Germain, father-figure. They met when she accidentally dropped her sketch notebook. He complimented how she smelled like peaches and started calling her like that (which Arthur caught wind of and started teasing her for it). He spoils Stella rotten with chocolates, satiating her sweet tooth as much as possible to keep the smile on her face.

Leonardo da Vinci, language mentor. He was impressed when she understood what he was saying in Italian. Then tested her with Latin, German and Spanish. Stella was ecstatic to learn more languages causing his sly advances go over her head (much to everyone else’s relief). She organizes his room as best as she can as thanks.

Theodorus Van Gogh, mortal enemy but not really. He would always refer to her as “Arthur’s little sister” and it would often lead them to constantly bicker. However, both of them share the addicting love for pancakes and will eat it at any time of the day, this was one of the few times where they get along very well. Other times usually involve making Vincent happy and safe. Secretly, however, they look out for each other like actual siblings.

Sebastian, meme buddy. They converse in memes, confusing everyone else, when not too busy in work. She would often ask him historical facts about the others and appreciates him going the extra stretch (she likes listening to his history fanboying). He would also save her from Arthur’s teasing and Theo’s yelling, but sometimes he just stands at the corner and listen to them go mad because he finds it amusing.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, radio (I don’t know how to call it HAHAHAHA). Stella would intentionally pass by near his room just to listen to him play the piano, reminiscing the time where she had a violin. It had always been her dream to hear a live, professional recital of one of his pieces, so hearing him composing new ones just beyond a door made her very happy. Mozart knows she’s listening.

William Shakespeare, neutral but very afraid. Stella avoids him as much as possible, his words are very confusing and deep but she tries her best to understand and remain kind.

Napoleon Bonaparte, older brother figure. He knows her unusually strong peachy scent would attract others and he dedicated himself to protect her. She's probably the most casual one to wake him up — Stella earned the free slap card when he tries to kiss her as thanks for endearing his habit.

Jean D'arc, stranger. She hopes to get to know him better. She would always see him with empty eyes and worries for him. She would often secretly pray for his happiness. Jean knows this.

Osamu Dazai, laugh pill. Though she often gets startled when he enters through windows out of nowhere, its followed by laughter she couldn't control. He likes seeing her laugh and it encourages him to never use the door (much to everyone else's dismay).

Isaac Newton, neutral. They don't speak much. Stella would smile his way whenever she sees him but often receives averting eyes in response and a mutter of hello. She would sometimes lightly hop in Arthur's teases about apples.

Vincent Van Gogh, lover. Stella admires his works since forever and to see him alive and well in person brought tears to her eyes when she realized that everything happening around her was real. Their relationship grew gradually, taking soft steps together until they realized they were in love. She would always sit near him when he's painting at the garden and play with his pet raccoon. She melts when he smiles.

Personality: Artistic and bubbly, she finds beauty in everything. Very expressive, but she keeps a facade when she's sad and it is quite difficult to pin out. She's more than willing to help anyone with whatever she can do. She is easily pleased with the simplest things and gets overwhelmed with gifts. She's usually quiet but if you spark a conversation with her it can go on for a long while, she likes to listen to stories and experiences. She loves to learn different languages and cultures. Can be smart then a dumbass the next moment. Underneath the innocent face is a sultry attitude that she's mastered to control and portray to catch people off guard — though she gets flustered easily when complimented.

Before the Visit to the Louvre: A fresh graduate from BA Multimedia Arts, she earned enough money from commissions to travel to famous museums and relax before starting her work on an international news media site.

Likes:

Chocolates

Adobong Baboy (A Filipino dish)

Pancakes

All the pets!!

Flowers!!

Dressing up!!!

Warm colors

Modern day jokes

Performing

Fruits

Dislikes:

Arthur

Skirt chasers

Being belittled

"Arthur's little sister"

Not knowing what is happening

Being stagnant (not doing anything)

Washing the dishes

Skills and Special Abilities:

Can understand several languages because of her constant travelling, speaks Spanish and Filipino very fluently.

Paints

Writes short stories

Can act like a completely different person if needed

Can go for three days without sleep or sleep for three days, no in between.

Inhales food like Kirby, her stomach has a void somewhere and she gets full very rarely.

Plays the violin (when she was a kid, very rusty today)

Paired with: Vincent Van Gogh

Life in the Mansion: On a daily basis, she helps Sebastian in his duties. Sometimes, she can be found talking business and assessing deals with Theo. She can also be seen in her room rereading Arthur's first manuscripts and editing them. When taking a break, she's sitting by the garden and having tea with le Comte, or watching Vincent paint. She would drop by the library an hour before bed to have a quick foreign language lesson with Leonardo.

Other Info:

She sings when painting very softly, especially when its raining where the pitter patter can drown out her voice.

Cries a lot in her sleep, mostly because of overthinking. She's gotten used to a life where she would be happy for one moment and devastated the next.

She bites. Metaphorically and literally. Arthur got hurt because of it one time.

Bribed easily with sweets — to an extent. She's not that stupid.

Always screams when surprised from behind while quickly whipping around to slap whoever jumped on her. She got a terrible childhood history with those kinds of surprises.

Slaps people by accident when she gets all panicky and will constantly apologize for such a rude habit.

Secretly very horny and has earned a PhD in self control. (Really makes you think that she's actually Arthur's long lost sibling)

She can't smell her peach scent which drives her nuts. A lot of people had told her that since coming in to the mansion. She's never even had peaches before.

The scent grows stronger after sex and bathing, which she found odd because none of the products she uses has peaches as an ingredient. She even uses a different perfume every time but the peach scent still somehow overpowers it.

Vampires are the only ones who can smell the scent, human don't.

Never touch her notebook. Ever. She's insecure about whatever notes and doodles she has. She's hidden it deep in her closet that even she herself forgets.

When questioned why she "doesn't look like a Filipina," she answers with deadpan eyes and a bored look. "We were colonized by the Spaniards for 3 centuries. My grandfather is Spanish." She's tired of being asked often.

Has acted for school plays all her life.

Laughs at everything.

Cries when mad, it adds annoyance to herself.

#now if only i was actually proud of this #im only happy about the layout tbhkjafaf #but the design of the character itself not so much #this may change still #especially the relationships #ikesona #blood donation persona #persona #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevam #ikevamp oc #oc #イケヴァン #ikemen series

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mst3kproject · 5 years

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Dawn of the Mummy

Like Horrors of Spider Island, this is a movie predicated on putting a bunch of attractive women in a dangerous situation so that we can watch them run around and scream, and like Devil Fish, they’re all Italian but we’re not supposed to notice. The director, Frank Agrama, is best known for the Robotech movies, and most of the actors were never in anything else (one of them did play a victim in Bloodsucking Freaks), so it can fairly be said to star nobody and feature nothing. Boy, it sucks.

Long ago, the evil Pharaoh Sefreman rode around Egypt being an utter bastard because he was a god incarnate and he could do that. He wanted to continue doing it after his death, too, so a priestess puts a curse on his tomb – if his treasure is ever stolen, Sefreman and his armies will rise and kill!

Thousands of years later, a bunch of robbers blast the tomb open despite the dire warnings of the wicked queen from Snow White. It’s not them who end up angering the mummy, however, it’s a bunch of models and their photographer, who decide that an undiscovered tomb is the perfect place to hold an impromptu photoshoot. After way too much pointless dithering, Sefreman makes with the rising and killing, culminating in a full-on zombie feeding frenzy.

The leader of the three robbers is a guy named Rick. It’s been a while since we had a Rick. The actor playing him, Barry Sattles, overacts so hard in every scene that you’ll be looking for tooth marks in the rocks. The guy who dubbed his voice is even worse.

And that’s just one tasty morsel of the delicious cheese platter that is this movie. The ancient Egyptians dress in taffeta and gold lame. The dubbing is atrocious. Sefreman’s ‘treasure’ is a bunch of cheap souvenirs with a layer of gold spray paint. People running through wide open desert can’t seem to keep ahead of slowly shuffling zombies. The music is intrusive and both it and the accents are obnoxious stereotypes – the end credits in particular are set to a cartoonified ‘Egyptiany’ piece that reminds me of the theme from Killer Klowns from Outer Space. If I had to pick a stinger I don’t think I could do it. I mean, there’s the wicked queen popping into shot screaming, there’s the guy getting attacked by a rat, there’s the lady wandering through the tomb wailing about how lost she is, there’s Rick screaming Sefreman’s name over and over… it’s hilarious.

There’s not much of a plot through the middle part of the film – just Sefreman and his minions wandering around eating people and horses. Occasionally there are hints of story, like one of the models falling in love with Rick (why!?) or the photographer’s desire to be famous, but these never really amount to anything. The climax is a total free-for-all, as zombies invade the streets of the town and crash Omar the Hookah Guy’s wedding! This is plenty amusing, but would be more so if we had a better idea what the hell was going on.

Sefreman is finally defeated by two of the models and a couple of guys from the town, who lure him into a shed full of dynamite and blow him up. This actually isn’t a bad ending. I’m pleased that they didn’t decide to try to turn Rick into the hero, and that the women didn’t need personality transplants in order to save the day. After the shack blows, they squeal and jump up and down and hug each other – which is exactly what we would expect from the characters we’ve been following this entire movie. Omar’s wedding is a fun choice of climax, since we get to see some Egyptian culture, and there’s even a sort of subplot in which it’s rather heavily implied that he’s got to marry this girl in a hurry because she’s already pregnant.

I do have many questions about the old woman I’ve been referring to as the wicked queen. How does she know where Sefreman’s tomb is when supposedly everybody who did know was killed? She’s played by the same actress as the high priestess who sealed him up – is she supposed to be a descendant? Maybe even the same person, immortal for some reason? Why does Sefreman kill her when she immediately swears her devotion to him? Why does she talk about Sefreman ‘reclaiming his kingdom’ when that was never mentioned in the curse? All the curse was supposed to do was keep his treasure safe. The best I can say about her is that she’s slightly more explicable and relevant than the pet shop hobo from Hellraiser… but that’s a low bar.

So what is this movie about, besides the obvious ‘mummy killing women’ level? I don’t think it’s really meant to be about anything. Dawn of the Mummy is just a monster movie, but it carries with it a certain amount of baggage from its genre. Mummy movies in general are about the West’s unease with archaeology.

Archaeologists dig up all kinds of things, of course, but tombs are a major subset, because the dead bodies of our ancestors are a wealth of information about how they lived. Modern science can tell where people grew up, what their diet was like, what diseases they suffered from, the colour of their hair and eyes, and all kinds of other things… but there’s still the fact that you have to dig up somebody’s dead body to get there. Some people are okay with the idea that their mortal remains might be a subject of study in centuries to come. Other people are not.

The Egyptians would almost certainly have been horrified by what has become of their dead. Mummies were meant to remain in their tombs for all eternity so that the souls of the departed would have a home, with their grave goods to take care of them. A mummy in a museum, separated from its context, means a soul that is alone and penniless in a foreign place. If they could have put curses and booby-traps in their tombs to prevent this, they would have. What does that mean for archaeologists? Do we have the right to disrespect these people’s wishes, just because they’ve been dead for a really long time?

Archaeologists will frequently lament the fact that their profession is also basically destructive – once you’ve dug something up and taken it apart, it will never be pristine again. Modern archaeology takes great care to preserve as much as possible so that people in the future, who will presumably have better techniques, can still learn something, too. Dawn of the Mummy sort of deals with this, as we see two groups of people who have no interest in preserving what they’ve found. Rick and his friends blow holes in it looking for a treasure chamber, and the models are in their own way nearly as destructive.

Dawn of the Mummy devotes significant attention to the fact that light is damaging to artefacts. Mummies on display in museums are always under dim light, because bright light will degrade the wrappings and tissues that have spent millennia in darkness. But the first thing the photographers do is set up a bunch of bright lights, and we see shots of icky blue fluid bubbling out of the mummy’s wrappings where this hits it. I wondered if this is supposed to be what activates the curse – since the title is Dawn of the Mummy, maybe the magic mistakes it for sunlight falling on him? If so, the writing should have taken care of that I wouldn’t have to sit and figure it out.

The models also touch everything they come across, leaning on walls and statues covered with thousand-year-old paint, getting makeup all over everything and probably sweat, too, as they constantly complain about how hot it is in there. The movie never entertains the possibility of actual archaeologists finding Sefreman’s tomb, but any who did would find it hopelessly compromised.

Mummy movies are also about imperialism, which is inextricably tied to archaeology. Modern Egyptology in particular began when Napoleon’s troops raided the country for stuff they thought was pretty, and as I discussed in my review of The Pumaman, a lot of this is still kicking around in museums, private collections, and garage sales, with no provenance or context. Archaeology derives from treasure-hunting, embodied in Rick – he’s not here for knowledge, he’s here for wealth. The models are not really any different. They want images of this exotic place that will please their audience, without much caring about the context behind them.

The mummy, with his magical powers and undead army, is a punishment for this greed, and represents the west’s constant fear that conquered peoples will fight back. You see this in those facebook graphs talking about how white people will become a minority in America unless we make abortion illegal. Why should that be a problem? Because we’re afraid we will be treated as we have treated others. Sefreman’s magic is completely unknown to the Americans and they have no defense against it.

Of course, none of this is actually relevant in Dawn of the Mummy. These themes are inherent in the premise, but they’re not part of the story this particular movie is telling. The result, with its Styrofoam tomb art and ostentatious overacting, is great to make fun of but impossible to take seriously – perfect material for some do-it yourself MST3K.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #dawn of the mummy #why is there always a rick #80s #royally lame crummy mummies

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bbclesmis · 5 years

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THE SUN: Randy life of Les Miserables author who bedded over 200 women in TWO years and seduced his son’s lover

It took Victor Hugo more than 20 years to finish Les Mis, which is hailed as one of the greatest works of literature - but he overcame writer's block by working naked

By Kate Jackson

LOCKED in a room, hunched over his goose-quill pen and paper, author Victor Hugo poured out the words that would move the world for centuries to come.

It took him 20 years to finish Les Miserables but it might have taken longer had he not hit upon a unique way to overcome writer’s block — by bashing it out naked.

“Les Mis” is now hailed as one of the greatest works of literature. The stage musical based on the novel has been seen by more than 70million people in 51 countries — and now its latest incarnation is set to be a TV hit.

The six-part BBC adaptation, which starts on Sunday, stars Broadchurch actress Olivia Colman, The Affair actor Dominic West and Lily Collins, actress daughter of musician Phil Collins.

But the life of writer, politician and human rights activist Victor, who also wrote The Hunchback Of Notre Dame, was far from miserable.

Possessing a voracious sexual appetite with a taste for whores, the randy Frenchman was a foot fetishist, a voyeur and even seduced the girlfriend of his own son.

In a two-year period he bedded more than 200 women — which can’t have been easy for his loyal wife Adele, mother of his five children and his childhood sweetheart.

Adele was his neighbour’s daughter, and they fell for each other as teens.

But as one of three sons of Napoleonic wars general Joseph Leopold Sigisbert Hugo, Victor was urged not to marry Adele.

His mother Sophie Trebuchet thought her boy should aim higher in society.

The pair initially conducted their romance via secret letters.

Even on the first one, Hugo signed off with, “Your husband.”

In another, he wrote: “Whenever I see anyone even approach you, I shudder with envy and exasperation. My muscles contract, my chest swells up and it takes all my force and circumspection to contain myself.”

They could only marry when Hugo’s mother died. He later bragged of making love to Adele nine times on their wedding night in 1822.

Biographer Edward Behr believes Adele never felt the same tender adoration towards her husband again.

But they did stay married for 48 years until her death in 1868.

The couple had five children — Leopold, who died in infancy, daughter Leopoldine, Charles, Francois-Victor and Adele.

Hugo and Adele were unfaithful to each other throughout the marriage.

She had a brief affair with her husband’s friend and literary critic Charles Sainte-Beuve — even as he championed the young writer’s poetry.

At around the same time Hugo seduced his first and all-time favourite mistress, Juliette Drouet.

He appointed her his unpaid “secretary” and she travelled with him for the next 50 years.

There were many others, but Victor always went back to Juliette.

Describing a typical day in Hugo’s life, one biographer wrote: “It was not unusual for him to make love to a young prostitute in the morning, an actress before lunch, a courtesan as an aperitif, and then join the also indefatigable Juliette for a night of sex.”

He would rate conquests in his bulging diary or an address book.

For example, according to biographer Graham Robb, Hugo wrote that Helena Gaussin was “beautiful but very thin,” while Mademoiselle Plessy was “pretty but with a poor figure, not much bust and long legs.” He hired prostitutes to put on strip shows for him and would pick up women on Paris buses. One of his mistresses, the married Leonie Biard, was discovered naked and “in criminal conversation” with Hugo.

She got sent to prison — while he got off scot-free.

But the most shocking was a liaison with actress Alice Ozy, the girlfriend of Hugo’s son Charles.

Charles thought Alice was being unfaithful and asked his dad for help. Immediately, Hugo wrote a series of filthy letters to Alice, possibly with the intention of exposing her as a cheat.

Instead, Alice fell for the erotic outpourings. Even poor Charles admitted he could see the attraction.

He wrote to Alice: “You choose the father and glory. I cannot blame you. Any woman would.”

If he wasn’t having sex, Hugo was a big fan of watching others do it. From 1832 to 1848, he lived on the second floor of a hotel in Paris, where he would entertain notable writers and artists. He installed peepholes in the guest rooms so he could watch them when they went to bed.

It was also in this hotel that he notched up 200 conquests in two years.

Biographer Robb noted that during the years 1847 to 1851, Hugo “had sex with more women than he wrote poems.”

At this point, the writer was already a big success, having published The Hunchback Of Notre Dame as well as other plays, poems and stories.

Rather than churning out Hunchback while in the nude, he beat his writer’s block that time by wearing a scratchy woollen body stocking day and night. This hot and itchy onesie is said to have cooled his sexual urges, allowing him to do some work instead.

After King Louis-Philippe gave him a peerage in 1845, Hugo campaigned against the death penalty and the vast gap between the rich and poor, as well as for freedom of the Press.

But Louis Napoleon seized power in 1851 — and Hugo’s vocal opposition put his life at risk. So he and his family went to live in exile in Guernsey, where he finished Les Miserables.

He secured a huge publishing deal for the novel, worth around £3million in today’s money, and the book sold out when it hit the shelves in 1862.

Today it is the longest-running musical in London’s West End while the novel has been translated into 21 languages. In 2012, Hugh Jackman and Anne Hathaway took on the story’s iconic roles of Jean Valjean and Fantine in a blockbuster film musical.

When Hugo died in 1885, French newspaper Le Figaro declared on its front page: “Neither in this century, nor in any of the centuries that preceded it, has France possessed a poet of that height, abundance and scope.”

His body lay in state under the Arc de Triomphe, draped in black and protected by guards on horseback.

Pedlars hawked souvenirs, from photos of artificial flowers with a picture of the writer’s face in the centre, to even pairs of trousers he once wore.

Diarist Edmond Goncourt claimed Hugo was so popular with prostitutes that the brothels in Paris closed for his funeral out of respect — and hundreds of whores mourned by draping their private parts with black material as they lined the Champs-Élysées.

Around 2million people turned out to watch the hearse travel from the Arc de Triomphe to the Pantheon, where Hugo is buried.

Savvy entrepreneurs charged mourners for a leg-up to watch from the branches of trees, while a woman fell off a parapet by the River Seine and drowned — as did the man who tried to save her.

Five others who sat on a branch were injured when it broke.

“Despite the unseemly squabbling, the injuries and deaths, there was a general feeling of satisfaction,” wrote Robb. For years afterwards, the funeral was one of the commonest shared memories of people all over France.”

And his masterpiece — as well as the details of his extraordinary private life — lives on to this day.

Les Miserables begins on Sunday on BBC1 at 9pm.

EPIC STORY OF BRUTAL STRUGGLE

LIVING up to the glumness of its title, Les Miserables is a ground-breaking tale of poverty and misery. The action in Victor Hugo’s classic novel begins in 1815 when convict Jean Valjean is let out on parole after serving 19 years for stealing a loaf of bread to feed his sister’s starving child.

He robs a bishop who lies to the police to keep Valjean from going back to jail. Grateful Valjean vows to start a new life and goes on to become a wealthy factory owner who cares deeply for the poor.

But an unforgiving police inspector called Javert tracks Valjean down, forcing him to flee to Paris where he gets caught up in the bloody 1832 Paris uprising.

Seeing Valjean go to extreme lengths to save one of the student revolutionaries, Javert realises he was wrong about the thief and takes his own life.

In a heartbreaking end, Valjean dies after confessing his past to his adopted daughter Cosette. (x)

#les mis bbc #bbc les mis #cw: the sun #victor hugo #articles

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drantlers · 2 years

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JONAH HEX WESTERN TALES & also the first time be shot Batman.

Having found a career path, Jonah Hex begins his life as a bounty hunter. I will largely be going off of the DC wiki (https://dc.fandom.com/wiki/Jonah_Hex_(New_Earth) ) for play-by-play and for ordering these events along a timeline. That said, Jonah Hex has had a few different writers and reboots so I promise nothing from a consistency standpoint.

Jonah Hex’s first bounty was an old army buddy of his, Eddie Cantwell. However, Cantwell gets killed by manhunter Arbee Stoneham, who really rubs it in by stealing Jonah’s guns. Jonah would meet Stoneham again 8 years later, where he finds Stoneham in a wheelchair. Deciding that shooting a paraplegic would do nothing for his already pretty shit image, he shares a drink with the man.

Then the wiki has this beautiful excerpt, which I will be pasting in full;

“As a bounty hunter, Hex was hired by Vandal Savage to eliminate a time-traveler Batman in return for some of Napoleon Bonaparte's gold. Hex defeated the dark rider, but he refused the gold, keeping just a batarang as a souvenir.”

Famous immortal caveman super villain Vandal Savage hires Jonah Hex to shoot Batman, with the reward being Napoleon’s Gold. Honestly the wildest part of this is that Hex beat Batman in a Batman comic. His jobber aura must be immaculate.

Now, with that out of the way, it should be noted that most early Jonah Hex stories were relatively down to earth Western stories, with villlains being less “super” and more “holy shit this guy is so fucking evil.” I will be glancing through these.

Jonah shoots Big Jim, who’s gang was trying to scare off the locals to sell the land to a railroad company. A lot of the villains in Jonah Hex stories, when their not just super racist or a serial killer, are trying to sell some land to a railroad company. Jonah thinks of settling down but the town tells him they don’t take ugly people.

Jonah gets a dog named Iron Jaws after saving a Pawnee tribe but failing to save the little girl that owned the dog.

Windy Taylor, Jonah’s mentor(?), hires Jonah to save his son Tod Taylor. Tod shoots Windy, Jonah shoots Tod. The dog around this time dies of exposure in the desert while trying to save Jonah from bandits that tied Jonah up, and now I’m just sorry that I bothered bringing the dog up in the first place.

Jonah becomes the bodyguard for a lot of people. These people generally turn out to be evil, and Jonah shoots them. I assume this is because if Jonah ever seemed too financially stable the comic would end.

Jonah loses another mentor, Blackjack Jorgis, as well as his horse the General when their attacked by former confederates sent by one of the closest things Jonah Hex has to a nemesis, Quentin Turnbull, father of that guy that I briefly mentioned when I was talking about the POW camp. Quentin Turnbull blames Jonah Hex for the death of his son, and will proceed to spend the rest of his existence in pursuit of revenge. This dude came back as a black lantern at one point. No chill. In addition to racists, serial killers, and railroad entrepreneurs, basically every other villain in a Jonah Hex story was sent by Quentin Turnbull.

Or El Papagayo. El Papagayo is a gangleader. He also reappears a lot.

Last thing worth noting I think is the time Jonah returned to the Apache tribe he lived with for three years, who have apparently kidnapped a girl. Jonah goes to his former home and gets thrown in a cell. White Fawn, remember her from the previous post, tries to rescue him and gets shot by the chief because everybody in this story is an asshole or dead. Jonah Hex shoots the chief and a lot of other people, rescues the white girl, and also some bounty hunter that was there dies.

NEXT: TIME TRAVEL PART 1

#jonah hex #DrAntlers discusses #DrAntlersJonahHex #Hex #dc comics

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josefavomjaaga · 1 year

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(Maréchal Jean-Baptiste Bessières)

This is translated from the »Souvenirs Diplomatiques et Militaires du Général Thiard«. And I had originally intended to only post it in August, for Bessières’ birthday, as it’s so rare to find something about him. But as I’ve been asked, here it is. (Just so you know, Bessie, this is a very early birthday present! Don’t expect another one in summer!)

Thiard, the author of these memoirs, was another émigré who had even fought in army of Condé, but had returned during the Consulate (in 1801). At the beginning of the empire, he got a job as one of Napoleon’s chamberlains, because Napoleon was in dire need of people who still knew something about the old court etiquette. He later was sent on diplomatic missions (he played a significant role in Eugène’s marriage, that’s how I learned of him).

However, at the moment we are still at the very beginning of the empire, even before Napoleon had become king of Italy. The court still sometimes goes to tiny Malmaison. As Thiard says, there at several occasions were concerts, and during one of them this little scene took place:

When I was not travelling, I was sometimes invited to these concerts, as was Madame de Thiard. One day when I was going there with her, in the costume of a chamberlain, silk stockings, lace cuffs, etc., at about seven o'clock in the evening, at the Nanterre road, a soldier wanted not only to get into my carriage, but to chase away my servant, whom he pursued sabre in hand. My coachman stopped, and on seeing what was going on, I rushed out of my carriage. I had my sword at my side, and as he was in a state of drunkenness, it would have been easy for me to dispose of him immediately, but in less time than it takes to relate the scene, I weighed in my mind the inconveniences which would result, and which, outweighing the dangers I had to run, determined me to head straight for him and to disarm him. It only cost me a lace cuff and a few scratches on my right wrist, but they were enough to bloody the handkerchief I wrapped around it. I had more trouble in preventing my coachman, who had got out of the carriage, and my servant from ill-treating this poor man, than I had in preventing him from hitting them.

I continued on my way, and before arriving at Malmaison, I advised Madame de Thiard to keep the utmost silence about this incident and not to reveal anything. But a scene like this always leaves an impression on a young woman of twenty which it is impossible to disguise. When the Empress entered the concert hall, she noticed it, and with her usual kindness asked her what was troubling her. With great spirit, she blamed it on the horses; but the Emperor, not seeing me, told Duroc to look for me and to find out exactly what had happened. I had remained in the salon de service, that is to say in the vestibule which everyone knows and where we came to breathe more freely. I made no difficulty in telling Duroc what had happened.

Of course you would. It’s Duroc. Everybody can tell everything to Duroc. Duroc will make everything okay, if possible without Napoleon ever noticing.

A few moments later, I saw him return with Bessières. It is necessary not to have served to be unaware of the extent to which esprit de corps has an unfortunate influence on the most distinguished minds. In the eyes of Marshal Bessières, the men of the old guard were not only the bravest soldiers in Europe, but even the most disciplined of all. In this respect, he could be right, for never had a troop in Paris given so many proofs of moderation and civic-mindedness as the so-called old grognards. This time however there was an exception. This is what the marshal did not want to believe. Impatient, I said to him "I don't know if your rules are still the same as ours, but the number of the briquet should let you know the name of the man who has the honour of carrying it. He told me that it was still so. Then I ran to my carriage, and gave him the sword which I had taken the precaution of carrying with me. He had nothing more to say; the man belonged to the battalion of chasseurs à pied which was stationed at Rueil, and the next day he was dismissed. The marshal asked me to keep the deepest silence on the matter. I observed it religiously, and this adventure strengthened a bond which became a real camaraderie and which has never changed.

»I observed it religiously« - until I wrote my memoirs, that is. But in any case, in this anecdote we have Bessières fighting his own »esprit de corps«.

#napoleon's marshals #jean baptiste bessières

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isnottherussianway · 7 years

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Home

Illya lives a rather Spartan-esque lifestyle.

His apartment in New York City was procured by UNCLE’s accounting services and is paid for by them, but Illya asked for little in the way of furnishings. His apartment back in Moscow--a few blocks from Red Square and utterly deserted now--had similar furnishings, but the ones in New York were at least stylish.

He needed enough to allow himself some creature comforts, but there are no paintings on the walls, nor are there knick-knacks on the shelves. Illya keeps souvenirs from their trips abroad, but he doesn’t buy art to store in his home the way Gaby and Napoleon do.

He suspects that all of Napoleon’s art, hanging on walls or carefully dusted and sitting on all available surfaces, is stolen. Or at the very least, corruptedly begotten.

The others don’t visit his home often and it’s not shame that keeps Illya from inviting them over; it’s their invitations to their apartments. He brings wine when he visits, as compensation for eating their food and taking up space in their homes, but neither ever ask for anything in return. Illya feels guilty about it, but they wouldn’t ask him to stay for a visit if they didn’t mean it, would they?

It’s easy for him to shamble back to his apartment and keep only the floor lamp burning as he reads in the cushioned chair by the window. His refrigerator hums as it clicks into action in the kitchen, no record player to block out the noise.

Both Gaby and Napoleon have record players. Maybe he should get one, too.

The street noise only bothers him in summer, when he has his windows open for the evening breeze. At the end of autumn, it’s nicely muffled by the thick windows and heavy curtains, the sound almost non-existent. Illya hears his ears click as he swallows another mouthful of hot tea--earl grey, surprisingly enough, and one Waverly introduced him to--and he smiles to himself, just as happy alone with his near-silent apartment, as he is with his partners, too much wine, and a record player.

#musings #short fic #my fic #idek what this is #having Illya feels today

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qwertzu824 · 7 years

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Viktuuri on Holiday

This is for @discord-ant, who requested a POV outsider Viktuuri on holiday, ignoring the landmarks and taking photos of random things instead. Hope you’ll like it!

...eighteen, nineteen, (whoa, what a handsome guy!) twenty, (aww, the Asian one is cute too!) twenty one.

She checked her papers. Yep, twenty one. Good.

“May I have your attention please?” she spoke up and waited until all heads turned to her. “Hello everyone, welcome to Bratislava! My name is Monika and I will be your tour guide. Before we start, let me just go through a quick set of rules. When we arrive at a landmark, I would like you to first pay attention to me as I explain the story behind the landmark and answer your questions. You will have enough time to take photos afterwards. It’s a beautiful sunny day, so there might be crowds...” She felt like a parrot, repeating the same thing for the millionth time. Or a broken record. Stay with the group. Don’t get lost. Follow the red umbrella. There will be enough time for souvenir shopping. The meeting point is in front of Michael’s Gate, any local will point you in the right direction. “Any questions?” As expected, there were none. “Good, now please follow me.”

She led the group to the first attraction of the day – Watcher. There was a group of tourists taking selfies with the statue. She spotted Anna and nodded at her fellow tour guide.

“Okay, while we wait for this group to take their photos, let me tell you something about our most photographed statue. Čumil or ‘Watcher’ was originally installed as a joke in 1997...” Monika allowed herself to space out as she retold the story she could recite from her sleep and answered the same questions she had answered million times before. Sometimes her job could be quite taxing. She gave them a generous fifteen minute break to take photos.

There were three men who absolutely stood out in this group, and not only because of their good looks. A cheerful Thai (at least Monika thought he was Thai. He certainly looked the part and he was wearing a jacket with Thailand’s flag) who was taking twenty selfies per minute, and an interesting pair that always stayed close to each other. One of them was a handsome silver haired man with the bluest eyes Monika had ever seen and the other was a gorgeous Asian. In sharp contrast to the Selfie Guy, the two did not even take out their phones. They were the only ones who hadn’t taken a picture with Watcher.

“Does everybody have a picture?” she asked to be certain.

The Gorgeous Asian’s eyes widened and he whipped out his phone quickly. Now that was the expected reaction.

Only he didn’t point it at Watcher.

“Витя, смотри!” he said to his friend, pointing at a puppy. (The last thing Monika had expected was for an Asian guy to speak fluent Russian.) You could practically see the Handsome Russian (it seemed reasonable to assume he was Russian) melt at the sight. They... They took photos with the dog, completely ignoring the statue, and did not even protest when it was time to move on.

Same thing happened with other attractions. The statue of Napoleon’s soldier? Selfie Guy: approximately 38 photos. Gorgeous Asian & Handsome Russian: nothing.

The statue of Schöne Náci? Selfie Guy: at least 25 photos. Gorgeous Asian & Handsome Russian: took a photo of a balloon seller.

Old Town Hall? Selfie Guy: more than 22 photos. Gorgeous Asian & Handsome Russian: took a photo of a butterfly.

Saint Martin's Cathedral? Selfie Guy: no less than 40 photos. Gorgeous Asian & Handsome Russian: took a photo of newlyweds exiting the church.

Bratislava Castle? UFO Restaurant? It was a miracle Selfie Guy had any free space left on his phone! Gorgeous Asian & Handsome Russian? Took photos of their ice cream. Ice cream. There was a giant flying saucer over the bridge held up mostly by suspension cables with no pylons supporting it from beneath and they took a photo of an ice cream! No, really, what was wrong with these two? They didn’t look bored. They listened to stories behind the monuments intently and occasionally even asked a question, proving that they were listening. It’s just that more people surreptitiously took photos of them than they did of anything. Unlike Selfie Guy, who was having a crisis over his dying phone battery (yeah, no surprise there). Handsome Russian calmly took out a power bank from Gorgeous Asian’s backpack and handed it to the excited Thai.

Well. Okay, then. Maybe they hired Selfie Guy as their photographer? That would explain things...

“Alright, everyone, attention please! It’s now 13:08. You have until 14:00 to go shopping for gifts and souvenirs. We will meet at 14:00 right here at this fountain. Please try to be punctual!” Not that she expected them to be, she’d been doing this for way too long and she knew better. She waved at the group, indicating they were free to go.

Gorgeous Asian & Handsome Russian were the first to arrive, carrying bags with logos of the usual souvenir shops. They were soon joined by the Selfie Guy, who had more bags than the two of them combined.

“Hey, guys, look what I’ve found!” Carefully setting the bags on the ground he opened one and took out a t-shirt. Monika giggled quietly. It was a gag gift t-shirt “Slovak for beginners” with deliberately difficult archaic and dialectal words which were practically impossible to pronounce for non-native speakers.

“I don’t think human vocal cords are meant to produce such combinations of consonants,” Gorgeous Asian said doubtfully.

Selfie Guy nodded. “Yeah, I thought so too, so I asked the shop assistant to read it to me. He did. Then again,” the Thai tapped his lip thoughtfully, “maybe he wasn’t human! I mean, they do have a flying saucer disguised as a restaurant! Maybe they’re all aliens!” He whipped out his phone to take a selfie with the shirt and no doubt inform the internet about his newest finding.

Monika slapped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from bursting into laughter. Eavesdropping was rude. Even if it was the craziest theory she’d ever heard in her career.

“Oh, and you’ll love this one!” he triumphantly pulled out a navy t-shirt which said

#Viktuuri (alternate spelling of victory)

“I need one!” Handsome Russian’s face brightened up, even as Gorgeous Asian groaned.

“Vitya, no.”

“Vitya, yes.” Handsome Russian pressed a quick kiss on Gorgeous Asian’s cheek and turned to Selfie Guy. “Where did you get it?”

The Thai pointed at a shop. Handsome Russian practically ran there.

“I hate you,” Gorgeous Asian informed Selfie Guy.

“Nah. You love me!”

The tourists, tired from the long walking tour, were sitting quietly in their seats, only few of them still having the energy to talk. The bus stopped at the red light.

“On the left you can see the Ondrej Nepela Arena.” The last thing Monika had expected was for Gorgeous Asian & Handsome Russian to pull out their phones and finally take a photo of a building. (Selfie Guy didn’t surprise her at all). Really? In front of the beautiful Neo-Renaissance style building of the Slovak National Theatre they had taken a picture of a flower and now, seeing this ugly modern building, now they decided they needed a photo? “For those of you who don’t know, Nepela was a famous Slovak figure skater, 1972 Olympic champion, a three-time World champion, and a five-time European champion...”

Monika slumped down onto her bed gratefully. It’d been a long day. Taking out her phone she checked her mails and skimmed through her social media sites. She got bored with it pretty quickly. Deciding to catch up with the latest pop-culture, Monika googled this viktuuri/victory meme.

Her scream woke up the neighbour’s dog.

THE END ;)

Disclaimer: I’m totally entitled to make fun of my language, city where I work, its landmarks, and possible extraterrestial status of myself and my countrymen :)

#Yuri on ice #mini-fic #writing prompt #viktuuri

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anastasiastabbington · 7 years

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DEAD MAN’S PARTY → ANAPOLEON

TAGGING → Anastasia Stabbington & Napoleon Darling (@napoleondarling)

TIMELINE → Monday, October 23, 2017

SETTING → Halloween Festival

SUMMARY → Napoleon drags Walt’s resident scaredy cat into a haunted house at the Halloween festival. RIP Weenastasia.

Anastasia hugged her arms around her chest as she paced the Walt Halloween Festival, wondering if enough people had seen her there for her to get credit for attending. She'd even picked up a souvenir -- stolen, of course, rather than won from carnival games -- that could prove she'd done her time at this stupid, spooky carnival, and she was all set to walk out the festival gates and head back to her cottage before the sun could go down fully and the scarers could start popping out at her and making her feel like she was on the brink of peeing her pants. Instead, though, she came to a halt at the sight of Napoleon Darling, the person who'd been her companion for a large portion of Walt's last festival. "Ew, what are you doing here ?" she asked, spying the Haunted House sign standing just beside him. "Anyone who voluntarily goes in to scare themselves silly is nuts, if you ask me."

Napoleon had shown up late to the Festival - he was doing his homework but if anyone asked he was prepared to come up with a much cooler sounding excuse. He didn't mind missing out on the carnival games really, you didn't need to be a genius to know they were rigged, but arriving as the sun was setting was the perfect time to haunted house it up. Maybe he'd even get scared this time, who knew? He wasn't expecting to see Anastasia there, knowing how easily she was to scare, but he smiled at the nice surprise. "Call me nuts then, because that would be me," he laughed. The idea of Anastasia of all people entering a haunted house was too funny to pass up and so he had to get her to come with him. "Going alone is lame though. I was looking for the perfect tagalong and I think I found her," he teased, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pivoting them so they were facing the house head on. "You'll have me there to fight any monsters, come on. You aren't that much of a weenie, right?" he dared.

Anastasia tensed as soon as his arm was around her, both from the barely-familiar feeling of his touch and the direction in which he was trying to drag her. She tried to dig her heels into the ground and stay in position, but he was a lot stronger than he looked and she felt herself inching in the direction of the haunted house at his guidance. "Going alone is lame, but using it as an excuse to get a girl who's way cuter than you to cling onto you for five minutes is even lamer," Anastasia protested, trying to hit a weak point or anything that would change his mind. She had wanted to sound suave, but her words came out stammered as fear started to seize her up. She hated jump scares, she hates spooky masks, she hated her hands being shoved into peeled grapes that felt like eyeballs... even knowing the tricks, she still felt sure that she would end up having a heart attack inside of that stupid house, so she let her arm go around his waist and dug her nails into his side, hoping he'd pause and let her go. "I'm totally that much of a weenie, you can call me Weenastasia for all I care, just don't make me go in there."

Napoleon snorted at her protests, but he felt bad the second he felt her tense up under his arm. He liked to make fun of Anastasia like she liked to make fun of him, but she was clearly, like, seriously afraid. Of a haunted house. It was a hard concept to process, even seeing it in front of him. The jump scares and spooky masks and all the tricks were so expected - her nails in his side, however, were not, and he jumped, his arm not moving. "Weenastasia? Really? You'd take that, for the rest of your life? I'd get it on your tombstone somehow. Here lies Weenastasia, scared to death." He kept the joking lilt to his voice, even though his eyebrows flattened in concern. "Come on, Anastasia. No one's gonna hurt you in there. They aren't allowed to even touch you. And you're gonna feel so much braver when you get to the other end, I promise. Come on. What do I have to do to convince you?"

Anastasia chewed on the inside of her cheek, biting so hard she was sure any second it might start bleeding. She hated being a coward, but most people just let her get away with it; it seemed, though, that Napoleon Darling wasn't most people. "Cool, be sure to put that in the yard of your cottage for your trick or treaters to see, then you don't even have to wait until I die to have way too much fun with the new name," she sighed, wondering if he knew when to quit. The more he pleaded with her, the more she almost felt a twinge of guilt... almost. "Pick me winning lottery numbers, bake me a weed cake, steal me the great Hope diamond... hmm, you intimidated yet or should I keep listing?"

Napoleon raised his eyebrows. "That's not a bad idea," he joked, though he was now seriously considering that tombstone as a Halloween decoration. If Anastasia made it through the haunted house successfully it'd be a fun reminder of the day instead of picking fun at her weenieness. Now that he'd started asking her to join in, going in without her would feel like a failure, and he wasn't good at feeling like a failure when he was sober. "I could probably try the winning lottery numbers, that's just probability and statistics, and the weed cake is totally doable. The Hope diamond is something I cannot do, but I can probably take one from a dwarf kid, is that good enough?" he asked hopefully, rocking on his feet a little bit. "And I'll leave you a giaaant tip the next time I'm at the Snuggly Duckling, and I'll slay any monsters in there, I promise." He blinked hopefully, not quite sure why he cared so much, but if the gulp in his throat was any indication, he really didn't want to go in alone.

Anastasia was pretty used to people putting up with her shit, even when she was being difficult; Gio was the most laid back person in the world, after all, and she'd spent the better part of the last few years around him everyday. Still, it felt stranger coming from Napoleon acquiescing -- they weren't tight like that, unless there was something seriously different going on in her brain than there was in his. "Okay, cool, win me some money before we go in the haunted house, we'll come again next week," she suggested, attempting to duck out from under his arm but not putting up much of a fight. She knew damn well that by next week the festival would be closed, but it had been worth a try anyway and she wondered if he'd fall for it. "Wow, somebody really wants my company, it's too bad you're just darling and not charming," she teased, although she hadn't actually made any steps backwards. "What, are you scared too?" Ana finally asked him, glancing towards the door and wondering if she left, if he'd go in at all or just ditch.

Napoleon didn't have to be smart to know the haunted house wouldn't be there next week, and he quirked a brow at her, silently asking if she'd really thought he'd fall for that. "I'd have to be more creative in finding a haunted house by next week, at least this one has guaranteed fake ghosts instead of, you know, real ones," he warned with a laugh in his throat. "If I was Charming, I'd be skateboarding in there right now without you. Darlings travel in packs," he insisted. He considered her question and no, he wasn't scared, but the odds of her going in with him seemed higher if he agreed. "Don't tell anyone, it'd ruin my reputation as a total bad-ass," he joked, letting her think he wouldn't go in alone. "But it's good to face fears head on. That way you can tell yourself you deserve whatever you get afterwards to cheer yourself up."

Anastasia let her eyes dart upwards, asking, "Is that my problem? You could always just make one inside of your house, since you seem to like them so much. I'm sure your cottagemates would just lovethat." Not that she'd considered visiting him anyway, but she'd definitely never step foot inside of his cottage if he gave it a scary theme. He'd have to be seriously weird to take her up on that kind of suggestion. "Skateboarding in the dark, wow, it's like they have a death wish or something," she replied drily, saying, "Ugh, you're really not going to let me get away with just going home, are you? Fine, but I get to call you Weenapoleon for a week if you scream first, since apparently I'm not the only scaredy cat around." She didn't know if he was serious or not; she didn't even know what she was trying to prove by agreeing. All she knew was that he was being kind of pitiful and she could relate to that on a spiritual level; the least she could do was put him out of his misery and just suffer through three or five minutes of misery of her own.

Napoleon shook his head. "Haunted houses aren't made, they're found. As far as I know, no one's died at 1159 Wizard Way, it'd make for a very dull time," he smiled. It was too much effort to make a haunted house anyway, but he didn't need to say that outloud. His heart started beating faster when it sounded like Anastasia was going to agree, the thrill of victory imminent, and he resisted the urge to fist pump his hand in the air when she uttered the word 'Fine'. "If I scream first you can call me Weenapoleon forever," he promised, already calculating in his brain whether it'd be better for her if he did or didn't scream first, and what would make her more likely to talk to him again afterwards. "But great, let's go!" He didn't want to manhandle her further as they approached the entrance so he dropped his arm, settling for lightly steering her by the elbow to the front of the door. "Ladies first."

Anastasia showed no reaction to Napoleon's statement, although a part of her did end up wondering if there was a whole history of deaths in Walt that she'd never bothered to look up before. Knowing her luck, she'd be living in the room of like, Walt's very own Moaning Myrtle or something, and it would probably be better for her not to go digging into that later... yet she made a mental note to do so anyway. She smirked at Napoleon saying he could call her an awful name like Weenapoleon forever if he screamed, and she even started to calculate a way to make sure that happened -- but she quickly discarded that as fear flooded her veins the closer and closer they got to the front door of the haunted house. She was too scared to be clever and they hadn't even crossed the threshold yet. "Oh, hell no," she protested, pushing Napoleon in front of her and wrapping her arms around his middle from behind. She buried her head in between his shoulderblades, murmuring against him, "This is the right way to go through the haunted house, right? Using you as a human shield." The door swung open for them as house attendants invited them to view the horrors inside, and she shuffled along, still attached to Napoleon, silently praying he'd just let her cling to him like this instead of forcing her to be brave.

Napoleon found it so hard not to laugh when Anastasia attached herself to his back. It wasn't what he was expecting, but at least she was going into the house - if he was forcing her out of her comfort zone it was the least he could do to let her use his body as a shield. "Are you kidding? All the cool kids are doing it," he promised, entering the house and feeling weirdly personally safe with someone's arms around him. That is until the first jump scare. Whether Anastasia could see it or not from her spot in his shoulderblades he didn't know but he found herself wishing she couldn't, because the weird and spooky bloody person who jumped out of nowhere was way freaky looking. He stiffened, one of his hands automatically rushing to Anastasia's arms as if to grab her hand. "Shit," he murmured in lieu of screaming. "Can you see anything back there?" he whispered, deciding it would probably ease both their nerves if they were speaking.

Anastasia didn't dare admit to Napoleon that it wasn't just his back that was shielding her from whatever had him tensing up; she'd also squeezed her eyes tightly shut, too. "Nope, not a thing, but I'm guessing we're about to bump into something completely horrifying," Anastasia whined, feeling his hand closing over her arm -- it didn't help her to relax at all, though, it only made her more worried. She could feel her heart hammering against her chest as she imagined a wide array of horrible things, and she slowly peered around her, swallowing a scream that threatened to erupt from her lungs at the sight of the bloody, harrowing creature in their path. "It's not too late to leave," she coughed instead, air having gone down the wrong pipe as she'd fought back the urge to yell. "We can just turn around, head the other way at a nice power walk or, you know, all out sprint... I won't tell anyone we're both weenies if you don't."

Napoleon couldn't help but chuckle. "Good guess," he said softly, wondering if he was more scared than he'd usually be because he was sober or if it was because fear was contagious. Maybe he deserved it, to be a little more afraid, maybe it was karma for dragging Anastasia in. But when she suggested leaving, his head shook instinctively. "Or we can power walk till the end," he reasoned, dropping the hand that he had on her arm as they turned another corner. "I mean, at some point we're closer to the end than we are to the beginning and running back to the start means spending longer in here." He was fairly sure they hadn't reached that point yet but he wanted to finish what he'd started. "Do you think anyone gets punched in these things?" he asked casually, trying to calm her with conversation as they traversed down a cobweb ridden hallway.

Anastasia grumbled but finally unwrapped her arms from around him, deciding that the fear of the unknown was worse than just seeing more horrible monsters firsthand. She just had to keep reminding herself that this was fake, this was fake, this was fake... and more importantly, she could just glance over and see the fear in Napoleon's eyes, too, and at least remember that she wasn't alone in this. "We've only seen one gross awful thing so far, there's bound to be like at least twelve more until we're free -- unlucky number 13, I'm calling it now, should we start counting?" The idea of counting helped Anastasia to stay calm, although not for long; they started to mosey forward, Anastasia by his side now instead of behind him, but just the sound of her own breath was enough to have her grabbing his arm again and clinging to it with both hands. "I'm going to punch you if you're not careful," she hissed as they rounded a corner and something from above her fell. She didn't look up to see that it was as fake of a spider as could be; she didn't have time for anything before fear took over and she let out a blood-curdling scream.

Napoleon let out a sigh of relief when Anastasia let go of him. Now she was braving the haunted house head on, like it should be - and besides, he was more scared that her grip would become tight enough to tear him in half than he was of the stuff in this house. "I like ten better," he grinned. "It's a more even number. We should count though, definitely. Whoever's closer treats the other to ice cream." He thought the mention of ice cream might make the girl relax, but the way she grabbed onto his arm suggested otherwise. He almost laughed at being threatened by her before something fell from the sky and honestly, Anastasia's response was scarier than whatever was up there could be, and he almost instinctively pulled his arm free and threw it over her shoulder like a shield. "Two," he counted loudly, hurrying them past the fake spider and out of the webby room. "I wonder if they get faker looking with each room," he rambled, trying to maintain some level of composure. "I wonder if they spent their budget on the front of the house and the rest will be just bargain basement scares."

Anastasia rolled her eyes. "Even, schmeven, Halloween is all about the scares and 13 scares the crap out of people for whatever reason," she pointed out, knowing that the number was enough to set her hair on end when it was paired with the day 'Friday'. Napoleon probably should have guessed that by now, though; she had done a completely rubbish job of hiding just how much of a scaredy cat she was from him. "But sure, you're on -- my favorite flavor's cherry," she teased, although her voice still sounded unsteady. It was impossible to really relax in here when scares could be around every single corner. Napoleon, however, seemed more at ease every second, and she was sorely tempted to hit him for real when his response to her embarrassing screams was just to count off that it was the second scare they'd seen. "Ugh, eleven more to go," she grumbled, leaning into his touch, only slightly comforted by him being even closer than before. "They probably save the best for last -- which means that'll be the loudest scream, I'll forgive you if you want to cover your ears," she said as they entered into a room with an eerie red glow. "Vampires?" she wondered allowed, trying to guess what would pop out at them next.

Napoleon wrinkled his nose - he hated cherry ice cream. "That's scarier than anything we could find in here," he commented. "It's ice cream, why do you want it fruit flavored? It's caramel or no dice," Napoleon shot back with a laugh. He wasn't totally sure if he was making her feel better or not, but her voice sounded maybe less shaky in his wishful thinking, and she was returning conversation which was a good sign. "Thank you, but when we get to the final scare, I"m just running out of here. I'm more scared of going deaf than I am of any rando pop out creature in here." He nodded at her assertion. "Vampires. Or maybe a werewolf." She was right, though, and not even ten seconds later a vampire popped out from behind a corner and lunged at them like it was going to suck their blood.

Anastasia would have glared at him if she weren't so busy staring straight ahead, facing her own impending doom. "Ew, caramel? No way, just because I didn't use a mainstream fruit doesn't mean people don't eat fruit ice cream all the time, strawberry and orange are so popular. And if I was going to eat non-fruity I'd do mint chocolate chip, definitely not caramel," Anastasia corrected him, thinking that maybe Napoleon deserved for her to just shove his gross tasting ice cream in his face for dragging her through this heart attack house anyway. "Running away from the house or running away from me? Because if you leave me alone and traumatized I'm totally cancelling you, just be prepared," she hissed, although the hiss turned into a terrified squeak as the vampire came at them. Fortunately, at least, it didn't target them for long; it slid right back into the shadows and she breathed a sigh of relief. "Three... God, I hope they were cheap this year and there are only like five. Do you really think there would be a werewolf next?" she asked, peering up towards the ceiling for some sort of sign of a full moon.

Napoleon shook his head. "Then everyone who eats fruit ice cream is wrong, it's that simple. Save that for fro-yo, ice cream is supposed to be decadent." He actually really liked mint, but it was easier to be at odds with Anastasia. "Caramel would kick mint chocolate chip's ass in a wrestling ring and that's just the facts," he responded before laughing. "Running away from the house. Hopefully you'd be running with me, leaving you behind would rest heavy on my conscious. So if I start running, come with me," he laughed, sucking in a breath at the sight of the vampire. "I don't know, vampires cover the classic monster trope pretty well. Werewolves might be extra." The next room was strangely empty-seeming for too long, it felt like it was building to a major jump scare with all the suspense.

Anastasia rolled her eyes. "Highly unlikely, caramel's not nearly as solid as the chocolate chips are, it wouldn't be able to get a solid punch in." Anastasia perked up at the mention of running away; she wished they could just break into a run now; she really wouldn't have minded being far away from here, even if the company really wasn't terrible. Still, if she was going to keep running into Napoloen Darling everywhere she went, she was going to have to start trying harder to avoid things one or the other of them hated. "Werewolves and vampires seem to go hand in hand these days, didn't your sister ever force you to watch Twilight?" she hissed, the stillness of the room making her nervous. She felt compelled to whisper as she waited, waited, waited, her heart the only sound she could hear as it pounded in anticipation. "Nope, I can't take this anymore, come on," she said, starting to drag him at a faster pace right as a figure reached out and stepped in front of them, its arms high in the air, it's disgusting mouth open as it uttered the word 'braaaaaains'. Anastasia wanted to scream again, but instead she fought to hold it back and let out a squeak of fear instead. Somewhere in the whole transaction, she'd leapt onto Napoleon's back, jumping in the air because she'd been scared out of her wits, and now she was in piggy back position, impressed that he hadn't just immediately let her slide right off. "Get me out of here, get me out of here, I hate zombies, go," she pleaded, sure that if she got back down her knees would be all wobbly and she'd sink right to the floor for the fake-zombie to fake-eat her very real brains.

Napoleon lifted a finger like he was explaining something of vital importance. "Ah, but caramel's density would make any hit mint chocolate chip landed stick to itself." He didn't really care about the physics of which flavor could beat up the other one, but it was more fun to think about. It was almost like they weren't even in a spooky house. Almost. He wrinkled his nose at the Twlilight mention and shook his head. "My sister is an artist, she has taste," he insisted. The silence had reached a boiling point and Napoleon, who liked thinking several staged ahead, was taken aback by a few things - first of all, the zombie. Not at all what he'd expected. Secondly, though, was Anastasia finding her way onto his back. His arms fell back to support her and doing as she said was surprisingly easy, hurrying out of there as fast as he could with a girl on his back. It was only a few more turns until he saw sunlight and an exit appeared. He worked his way over there, relieved to be outside again. "And that concludes your ride on the Napoleon express," he joked, lowering himself a bit so she could disembark easier. "See? That wasn't so bad," he grinned, removed from the scary stuff now and ready to joke about it.

Anastasia squeezed her eyes closed as Napoleon took off at a brisk pace, trying to block out the whole rest of the stupid haunted house. She'd screamed enough for one day, and she didn't even care if he called her Weenastasia for the whole rest of her life, as long as she got to escape. Once they were in the sun, she blinked her eyes back open, sure that it couldn't be a part of the house anymore. Anastasia's first temptation was still to smack Napoleon for making her go in there in the first place, but instead, she slid off the ground and threw her arms around him in a hug instead. "Next time you're so desperate to hang out with me, Darling, let's do it somewhere that doesn't make me want to die, okay?" she muttered before pulling back, a little embarrassed by the unfamiliar show of affection. "I'd say thanks for getting me out of there, but well... you're the only reason I was stuck in there in the first place, so hopefully you'll understand if I pass."

Napoleon was totally expecting an eye roll or a sock to the arm or something for basically forcing her into the hanuted house - he definitely wasn't expecting a hug, but he didn't mind. Adrenaline was responsible for weirder things than hugs, he knew. He put an arm around her in return, chuckling a little at her request. "Oh, but that still limits too many options," he teased, though his brain was already wondering what sort of place they could go to next that didn't end with, well, her on his back and screaming. "I don't even get credit for running us out of there?" he asked fake-incredulously. "I'll remember that the next time you have monsters that need slaying."

Anastasia almost replied with a 'see you never, then,' but a tiny nagging part of her brain told her that if she said that and he agreed, she'd be disappointed. Disappointed about not hanging out with a big nerd like Napoleon Darling! She couldn't believe it; she wasn't sure at what point she'd gotten actually a little bit attached to him, but she supposed there were some things you just couldn't do without liking the other person a little bit, and going through an entirely too terrifying haunted house was one of them. "Fine, I guess we'll just have to do something you hate instead," she teased, flipping her hair over her shoulder and shrugging innocently. "One look at this beautiful face in pain and you'd run right to my rescue, don't even!" she teased, finally giving in and swatting at his arm. "And speaking of rescuing me, I seem to recall ice cream?" she added, arching her eyebrows at him meaningfully, still too close to the haunted house for her own comfort.

Napoleon could think of a million things he hated doing off the top of his head, but the thought of doing them with Anastasia Stabbington wasn't too bad. She was funny, and it was so easy for her to make him smile even if she didn't realize it, and they'd never do something that could result in one or both of them dying, and that was all great news. He was aware part of his fondness for her might have to do with the adrenaline still going through him but if he was being honest with himself, he'd had a great time with her at Waltfest too, and he was having a great time of chuckling at her antics. "Ice cream, there we go! That's something I could hate. Want to go get some fruit-flavored frozen milk right now? I think I'm done with the carnival," he admitted.

Anastasia rolled her eyes at Napoleon, linking her arm through his similar to how she'd done at Waltfest. It was nice to be the one dragging him around again, instead of being dragged into a weird tower of terror, and she scolded, "Only if you're in the mood for some caramel, yuck." She tugged him in the direction of the ice cream shop, glad to put distance between her and the carnival, thinking her day was only bound to get better from here.

#napoleondarling #para #para:Napoleon #napoleon #para:deadmansparty

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emilyzh2019-blog · 5 years

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Best Things to Do In Venice, Italy

Venice, Italy

Venice feels like it shouldn’t exist. Beautiful floating palaces of stone surrounded by a network of canals. Here are some of the best things to do in Venice for your first visit!

Venice is one of the most popular Italian cities for tourists, even with all the other beautiful & historic places there are in Italy.

But there’s a good reason. The City of Water is celebrated because of its unusual circumstances, sitting on 100+ small islands connected by over 400 bridges.

There are basically no roads, transportation is accomplished via boats on a confusing network of canals. It’s truly unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before!

There are many quirky, unique, unusual, and secret spots to discover in Venice.

I traveled here with Anna for the famous Carnevale di Venezia in February, a crazy annual festival of costumes and masks. We had an awesome time!

Because most travelers visiting Italy stop by the city for a few days, I wanted to recommend some fun and unusual things to do in Venice during your trip.

Venice Highlights Map

How To Use This Map

Above you’ll find a map of highlights in Venice, Italy. Click on the top left of the map to find separate layers marking a route or points of interest. You can hide and show different layers, or click icons on the map to see the names of places I mention in this travel guide. “Star” the map to save it to your own Google Maps, or open the map in a new window for a larger version. Enjoy!

Best Things To Do In Venice In 2019

1. Explore Saint Mark’s Square

Piazza San Marco in Venice

St. Mark the Evangelist is Venice’s patron saint. Signs of this connection can be found throughout the city, with an excellent example being St. Mark’s Square.

Also called Piazza San Marco, it is Venice’s main public square, basically the social heart of the city. There are a bunch of famous landmarks here, like the Clock Tower, St. Mark’s Basilica, Doges’ Palace, and the Winged Lion of Venice.

St. Mark’s is also home to many public events that have been held here for centuries. You’ll find TONS of friendly pigeons, although keep in mind that feeding them has been banned.

Cafes line the North end, so it’s a nice place to sit with an Aperol spritz or hot chocolate and people watch. Visit around sunrise to enjoy it peacefully before the large tour groups show up.

USEFUL TIP: Cafe’s in St. Mark’s often have live music, but they tack a €6 EURO cover charge onto your bill automatically. Just be aware.

2. Libreria Acqua Alta Book Store

Venice’s Coolest Book Store!

Perhaps unsurprisingly, flooding is a frequent problem for a city built on water. So various Venetian institutions have come up with unique responses to the problem.

A cool book store called Libreria Acqua Alta placed its books and magazines in bathtubs, waterproof containers, and even a full-sized gondola! It makes for a very unique and very whimsical setting.

This Venice book store has become an Instagram hotspot, with quirky little “backdrops” for photos around the store. Keep an eye out for some adopted stray cats who roam the shelves too.

Normally I’d tell you to pick out a good book, find a quiet corner, and do a little reading. Unfortunately, an onslaught of Instagram “influencers” yelling at you to get out of their shot is more likely…

3. The Bridge Of Sighs

The Famous Bridge of Sighs

The Bridge Of Sighs is a unique enclosed bridge of white limestone spanning the Rio di Palazzo in Venice. There’s an interesting story behind the name.

It once led to a notorious Venetian prison, the beautiful view through its stone “bars” was a convict’s last sight of Venice before losing their freedom… and often their life. Hence the “sighs” as they passed.

These days tourists can walk through the bridge during a tour of Doges’ Palace, or more frequently, line up for photos outside with it in the background. You can also book a gondola ride that passes under it.

Locals often lie and tell tourists that it’s named after the “sigh” of couples sailing under it, falling in love due to the magic of Venice. The reality is a bit darker!

4. The Grand Canal (Canale Grande)

Take a Trip Down the Grand Canal

Venice was once the capital of a maritime empire, and a center of commerce and culture during Europe’s Renaissance period. The Grand Canal is the most important channel running through the city.

It’s also the largest and forms a recognizable “reverse S” through Venice when the city is viewed from above. Some of the most spectacular buildings in Venice line The Grand Canal!

Many of these buildings can only be accessed by boat. So you’ll find boats of all sorts heading up and down the canal in a fascinating form of organized chaos.

You’ll see plenty of traditional wooden gondolas, the large public Vaperetto water taxis, fancy private water taxis, small locally-owned motorboats, police boats, and my personal favorite, the garbage collection boats!

5. Ponte Di Rialto Bridge

Cross Over the Rialto Bridge

There are four large bridges that span the Grand Canal. The original of them all was Rialto Bridge, which started out as a pontoon bridge in the 12th century but has since been rebuilt into what you see today.

The current bridge was built in the late 16th century, at a time when critics claimed that it would soon fall into ruin. But more than four centuries later, the Rialto Bridge still stands in splendid defiance.

The Rialto is Venice’s most popular bridge, with a great view of the city from the top. It gets a bit crowded, especially in the middle of the day during the summer!

Shops line the center of the bridge, the perfect place to pick up a Venitian souvenir — like jewelry or some famous Murano glass.

6. Ride A Gondola In Venice

Anna & I Enjoying Our Gondola Ride!

Are the Venice gondola rides worth it? Well, it depends. Are you the type of person to visit Egypt and skip the pyramids? If so, go ahead and skip the gondola, too.

But if you’re genuinely curious about history and new travel experiences, suck it up and pay the €80 EURO price to rent one for 30 minutes.

One of the most iconic images of Venice is that of a traditional gondola being propelled by a professional gondolier. I will say, not all gondola rides are created equal. You could get a bored, unfriendly gondolier.

Or you could luck out with a friendly and knowledgeable tour guide (like we did), who also sings, as you float through the canals! It’s really just a part of the whole Venice experience.

USEFUL TIP: For a more thorough 2-hour guided tour of the canals, on a normal boat, check out this option: ➜ BOOK IT HERE

7. Gallerie Dell’Accademia

The riches that once flowed into Venice made it a leading center for the arts, and artists. Examples can be found at Gallerie Dell’Accademia, a museum that specializes in pre-19th-century Venetian art.

Suffice to say that the Venetian art scene had a profound impact on European art as a whole in more than one way, thus making the museum that much more of a must-see for art lovers everywhere.

Inside you’ll find artwork by renowned artists such as Bellini, Da Vinci, Titian, and Canaletto.

The old building itself is pretty cool, a former convent that was converted to a museum in the 1700’s. It sits right on the water’s edge of the Grand Canal.

8. Visit Doges’ Palace (Palazzo Ducale)

The Courtyard of Doges’ Palace

The Republic of Venice came into existence in the 8th century and continued to exist until the late 18th century when Napoleon embarked on his conquest.

During that period, the republic was presided over by The Doge, a chief magistrate elected for life by Venetian nobles. Think of him as a combination of Pope & President.

Nowadays, the iconic Palazzo Ducale (Doge Palace) that housed the Doge has become one of the most famous landmarks of Venice, and a popular museum.

The interior of Doges’ Palace is quite opulent, with some wonderful views of the city. To walk through the Bridge Of Sighs mentioned earlier, this is how you do it.

9. St. Mark’s Basilica

Beautiful St. Mark’s Basilica

St. Mark’s Basilica, located in St. Mark’s Square, is the most famous of Venice’s churches and the cathedral of the Patriarchate of Venice.

Style-wise, the church is a mix of influences, having been built in the 11th century before being embellished again and again over the course of centuries. Today it boasts gold-leaf mosaics and beautiful domed ceilings.

Make sure to visit the small basilica museum inside, as well as the outdoor terrace with excellent views of the public square below.

As a lavish and much-beloved symbol of Venetian history, it’s totally worth a stop. Visiting on your own is free, although keep in mind there are often long lines.

USEFUL TIP: To skip the line for a full guided tour of St. Marks Basilica as well as Doges’ Palace, check out this option: ➜ BOOK IT HERE

10. Go Up San Marco Campanile

One of Venice’s Popular Landmarks

St. Mark’s Campanile is one of the most recognizable landmarks in St. Mark’s Square, a massive 98 meter (323 ft) bell tower that looms over its surroundings.

Galileo himself used the tower as an observatory to study the skies and in 1609 he demonstrated his telescope to the Lords of the city.

There is an elevator that goes to the top providing you with an unforgettable view of one of the most magnificent parts of Venice, including the Venitian Lagoon and Santa Maria Della Salute.

The ride to the top costs €8 EURO, or €13 EURO to skip the line (buy tickets here). Because drones are banned over Venice, it’s one of the only ways to get a cool aerial and panoramic view of the city.

11. Take A Day Trip To Burano

The Colorful Island of Burano

Burano is one of the smaller islands that can be found around the Venetian Lagoon. It’s reached via a 40-minute water taxi from St. Mark’s Square.

This small fishing village is unique for its brightly painted homes of pink, blue, yellow, and green. It’s a kaleidoscope of color with its own network of canals too.

Burano is also a center for lace-making, though the traditional methods see very little use these days because of their complicated and time-consuming nature.

The main square is filled with bars and outdoor restaurants, make sure to order some fresh fish risotto for lunch! Burano is a nice half-day trip to get out of Venice and see something different.

USEFUL TIP: For a complete guided day tour of both the islands Burano and Murano, check out this option: ➜ BOOK IT HERE

12. Basilica Di Santa Maria Della Salute

Basilica di Santa Maria

In the 17th century, Venice suffered a particularly bad outbreak of the bubonic plague when 80,000 people died.

As thanks for its deliverance from the plague, Venetians built the Basilica Di Santa Maria Della Salute to honor the Blessed Virgin Mary who they believe saved them from much worse.

The result was a wonderful Baroque style structure which came complete with a beautiful dome that has become an iconic part of the Venetian skyline.

The basilica is positioned near the entrance to the Grand Canal. Entrance is free, and many people simply chill out on the church staircase. The Vaporetto water taxi has a stop right out front.

13. Climb San Giorgio Maggiore

San Giorgio Maggiore Island

San Giorgio Maggiore is one of the Venetian islands. Moreover, it is also the name of a Benedictine church that can be found upon said island.

Built in a Renaissance style out of shining white marble, one of San Giorgio Maggiore’s most stand-out features is the bell tower with an elevator to the top and excellent views of Venice.

If you only have time for one bell tower, I’d actually recommend this one over San Marco Campanile. Because this tower is on an island further away from the city center, you get a better view of Venice proper.

Entering the church is free, but if you want to go up the tower, it costs €3 EURO. San Giorgio Maggiore can be reached by public water taxi.

14. Check Out The Canareggio District

The Quiet Canareggio Neighborhood

Need a break from the crowds? Canareggio is the northernmost of Venice’s six historic districts, and where the last of Venice’s true residents call home, and the former Jewish Ghetto of Venice.

The other areas of Venice which line the Grand Canal are popular destinations for tourists, but the Canareggio neighborhood is residential in nature, featuring various cafes, shops, and a more local experience.

One of the biggest complaints about Venice is the crowds, but it’s totally possible to leave the busy areas behind and explore less-crowded parts, like Canareggio.

15. Eat A Traditional Tramezzino

The Traditional Sandwich of Venice!

Tramezzini are Italian sandwiches that use two pieces of soft white bread with their crusts removed.

Venetian Tramezzini are famous for being stuffed fuller than most of their counterparts, with the most traditional examples using either ham or tuna.

They are great as a snack, particularly for people who want something substantial. Probably the best place to grab a Tramezzino is Bar alla Toletta (Bar at the Toilet).

This tiny local cafe & Tramezzini shop in the Dorsoduro district is always packed, but the food is excellent and a perfect example of this traditional Venetian snack.

16. Get Lost In Venice’s Narrow Alleys

The Narrow Alleys of Venice

Space comes at a premium in Venice. As a result, there are a lot of places with VERY narrow alleys, which can be a fun way to explore one of the most romanticized cities on the planet.

One of my favorite things to do while we were in Venice was to just get lost in these narrow streets. Pick a direction and just start walking. See what hidden places you can find.

There are all kinds of little shops, public squares, and lesser-visited canals and bridges if you are willing to be adventurous and put down your phone or map.

Not that your smartphone will help much, GPS doesn’t work very well in these confusing, narrow alleyways. You’ll almost certainly get lost even if you weren’t planning to!

17. Buy A Venetian Carnival Mask

Even if you’re not visiting Venice during their annual Carnival in February, it’s still possible to pick up one of the famous Venetian Carnival masks!

Scholars speculate the masks were a way to shrug off the structure of class, enabling participants to enjoy a temporary measure of freedom.

The upper class and peasants would mingle together, the masks hiding their true identity. But they’d also allow people to engage in gambling, robbery, assassination, and other illicit activities.

You can easily pick up one of your own as a souvenir. There are cheap versions sold from street carts, or the more elaborate hand-made art pieces can be bought in specialized mask shops.

18. Scala Contarini Del Bovolo

Cool Spiral Staircase

View From the Top

If you’re looking for a cool hidden attraction in Venice, there’s a palazzo in San Marco with a spiral staircase called Scala Contarini Del Bovolo, as it resembles a snail shell.

This curved set of stairs is a perfect example of Renaissance art spreading through the city in the 15th century. It became associated with not just the palace but the Contarini family who lived there.

On the top floor, you can walk out onto the “Belvedere”, getting a wonderful view of Venice, including the domes and Campanile of San Marco. Entry fee is €7.00 EUR.

19. The Fight Club Bridge

There was a time when Venice saw frequent fist-fights between rival factions on its bridges, which were popular spectacles for Venetian crowds.

The fist-fights were not held in high regard by the Venetian authorities, but they were tolerated for a time because they were an improvement on the earlier practice of stick-fights.

The Ponte Dei Pugni (aka The Bridge of Fists) was the most popular place for these fist-fights. The surface bears four footprints rendered in white marble, supposedly where fighters would stand to start their matches.

Right next to the bridge there’s also a family-owned floating vegetable market, called “La Barca”, that was featured in the classic travel movie Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade.

20. Crypt Of San Zaccaria

The Flooded Crypt

San Zaccaria is a central Venetian church built using a mix of Gothic and Renaissance styles. However, the church tends to be best-known because of its flooded crypt.

Curiously, the water has enhanced the overall feel of the space, perfectly suitable as a resting place for some of Venice’s earliest Doges (religious and political leaders).

The stone columns and vaulted ceilings combined with the standing water make for a creepy tomb. Totally worth a quick visit while you’re in Venice!

21. Catch An Epic Venetian Sunset

Colorful Venice Sunset at San Marco Pier

Venice has some amazingly colorful sunsets. They are complemented by the city’s magnificent architecture built along all the waterways and canals. Not to mention the gondolas floating about.

Sunsets often boast deep pink, yellow, purple, and orange colors. Unfortunately this partly due to all the smog hovering over the city… but it’s great for photography!

One of the best places to view the sunset in Venice is along the ferry pier at San Marco. There are a few docks that jut out into the Grand Canal, where you can set up a tripod [MAP].

22. Rialto Market Shopping

No visit to Venice would be complete without visiting the Rialto Market, seeing as how one of the city’s chief claims to fame was as a commercial hub.

The Rialto Market’s canal-side location means that it has played an important part in the day-to-day lives of Venetians for a very long time.

You can find fruit, vegetables, and fresh fish in the food section, plus countless souvenirs in the tourist section. The market is open from 9am to 9pm, and is situated near the big white Rialto Bridge.

USEFUL TIP: If you’d like a local guide to help you navigate all the great food in Venice, maybe consider going on a food tour too! ➜ BOOK IT HERE

Squero di San Trovaso Boatyard

23. Watch A Gondola Being Made

Squero di San Trovaso is one of the last remaining Venetian gondola boat yards, where local craftsmen build and repair the €20,000 traditional boats.

While the boatyard isn’t generally open to tourists, you can watch them work from across the canal. If you’re lucky, they’ll be outside varnishing one of the boats.

Only about 10 new gondolas are built each year, made from eight different kinds of wood including mahogany, cherry, fir, walnut, oak, elm, larch and lime. The last of a dying artform!

24. Cool Off With Venetian Gelato

Eating Gelato from Suso

After a long day wandering through the city, I recommend stopping by the Suso Gelatoteca for a cold and refreshing cone of tasty Italian gelato.

One way to know if you’re getting authentic, Italian gelato is to check the colors. Are they bright and florescent? Skip it! Real gelato is much more subdued.

Another great spot for gelato in Venice is Gelato Di Natura in San Croce. Make sure to eat it fast before it melts all over your hand!

25. Teatro La Fenice

Beautiful Old Theater

Sometimes called Phoenix by English speakers, Teatro La Fenice is a beautiful old Venetian opera house.

It has been destroyed and rebuilt two separate times following different fires, hence the “phoenix” name.

The interior is the star of the show, designed in classic Italian fashion, with lots of gold and seating in closed boxes for an extra measure of privacy.

Just keep in mind that photos from inside aren’t allowed during concert/play rehearsals, which we didn’t realize on our visit. Make sure to ask at the door.

26. Grab A Drink At Hotel Danieli

Hotel Danieli’s Awesome Staircase

If you want to see how the other half do Venice, stop into the lavish 14-century palace of Hotel Danieli and grab an evening drink at their Bar Dandolo.

This 5-star hotel has hosted such notable people as Charles Dickens, Harrison Ford, and Peggy Guggenheim.

In the lobby, there’s also a beautiful grand staircase decorated in red and gold. The bar features antique furniture, Murano chandeliers, and even more gold.

The bar was featured in 3 different James Bond films: Casino Royale (2006), From Russia with Love (1963) and Moonraker (1979).

27. Basilica Of Saints John & Paul

The Basilica of Saints John & Paul

The Basilica of Saints John and Paul is a smaller basilica that can be found in Castello, and the public square around it is a popular place for families to hang out.

Curiously, it isn’t named for John the Baptist and Paul the Apostle. Instead, it is named for a more obscure pair of saints who are said to have been eunuchs belonging to the Emperor Constantine’s daughter Constantina.

Regardless, the Basilica of Saints John and Paul is a treasure trove of art and culture, as well as the place where funeral services for the Venetian Doges were held following the 15th century.

28. Ride The Vaporetto Water Taxi

The Cheapest Way To Travel Venice

By now you’ve already heard me mention the Vaporetto water taxi a few times. This is the cheapest and most convenient way to get around Venice.

It’s basically a floating public bus, that stops frequently at different docks around the city. It may not be quite as romantic as a wooden gondola or private boat, but it gets the job done.

Vaporettos usually run between 6am and 10pm, and you can buy a 24-hour ticket for €20 EUR, or 48-hours for €30. A single ticket costs €7.50.

You can also use them to reach some of the other islands around Venice, like Murano & Burano. If you’re traveling to Venice on a budget, this is the way to go!

29. Glass Making On Murano Island

Famous Murano Island Glass

Murano is another small island just outside Venice, reachable via water taxi. It’s become known around the world for its glass-making artisans.

You can stop into the Museo del Vetro – Museum of Glass to learn about the history of Murano glass and how its made, or even sign up for a glass blowing class and make some yourself!

If you are looking to bring home some souvenirs from your trip to Venice Italy, I highly recommend picking up some authentic Murano glass.

30. Attend Venice Carnival!

Crazy Costumes at Venice Carnival

Modeled after ancient Greek and Roman festivals, Venice Carnival is a holiday that allowed regular citizens to dress up in anonymous costumes, making fun of the aristocracy without fear.

But it eventually backfired, allowing criminals to get away with all kinds of crimes behind the masks, and Carnival was banned in 1797. The celebration & parties returned though during the 1960’s.

These days, Venice Carnival lasts for two weeks in February, with all kinds of parades, concerts, private parties, and people dressed up in elaborate costumes.

We had a ton of fun photographing all the different costumes and masks, as people pose for you at the most iconic spots around the city.

Best Time To Visit Venice

High season for Venice Italy is during the summer from June to August, when everyone is on summer break. It’s hot and very crowded! Try to avoid the summer if you can.

The best time to visit Venice is during the shoulder seasons, March – May and September – November. Still busy, but not as bad as summertime.

If you are looking to travel on a budget, visit Venice during the acqua alta, or “high water” months of October through January. This is when the city floods on a regular basis.

Venice Carnval is during February. 2020 Carnivale de Venezia dates are February 8th to February 25th.

Where To Stay In Venice

Normally I’d recommend staying at an Airbnb, but for Venice, a vacation rental investment explosion has forced locals to leave the city because they can no longer afford rent. Which is kinda shitty. Use a hotel instead!

Best Accommodation In Venice

BUDGET Generator Hostel

MID-RANGE Hotel Mezzo Pozzo

LUXURY Hotel Danieli

Transportation Around Venice

Most people get to Venice by flying into Venice’s Marco Polo Airport. From there, you can jump on the ATVO airport transfer bus to Piazzale Roma, the main bus terminal. Buses run every 20 minutes and cost €6 EUR. From the terminal, you can pick up a Vaporetto and start floating down the Grand Canal.

Vaporetto

The Venice public “water bus”. A single ticket costs €7.50 EUR. 24-hour unlimited ticket for €20 EUR. 48-hours for €30. 72-hours for €40. Timetables here.

Water Taxis

For a slightly cooler experience, you can book a motoscafi (water taxi). It’s basically a wooden speed boat that travels much faster than the public Vaporetti. But it’s more expensive.

For up to five people, the price is €110 to or from the airport. Or €82 from the train station to Plaza San Marco. So if you’re sharing with a group, it isn’t so bad.

Gondola

€80 for 30 minutes before 7pm, €100 after 7pm. The price is good for up to 6 people. This is more of a tourist attraction than a practical way to get around the city. I’d recommend trying it at least once though!

Budget Travel Tips For Venice Italy

Don’t try and see absolutely everything in Venice if don’t have much time. Pick a few things to do each day. The large crowds can be stressful.

Speaking of crowds, mentally prepare for them. Unless you’re visiting off-season, Venice is ALWAYS packed, like 60,000 – 80,000 people each day!

To avoid the huge influx of cruise ship passengers that descend upon Venice, check out this Cruise Ship Calendar to help plan your trip around them.

Packing Guide

Check out my travel gear guide to help you start packing for your trip. Pick up a travel backpack, camera gear, and other useful travel accessories.

Book Your Flight

Find cheap flights on Skyscanner. This is my favorite search engine to find deals on airlines. Also make sure to read how I find the cheapest flights.

Rent A Car

Discover Car Hire is a great site for comparing car prices to find the best deal. They search both local & international rental companies.

Book Accommodation

Booking.com is my favorite hotel search engine. Or rent apartments from locals on Airbnb. Read more about how I book cheap hotels online.

Protect Your Trip

Don’t forget travel insurance! I’m a big fan of World Nomads for short-term trips. Protect yourself from possible injury & theft abroad. Read more about why you should always carry travel insurance.

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