#laurence this one's for you

[dragonnarrative-writes]

WIP Wednesday

I have so many ideas for this OC, but none are cooperating with me.

Meet Bricks!

Simon notices, immediately, when the American girl enters the bar. First of all, she’s loud. Announces her arrival with a blast of laughter that rings through the room, for all that she’s surrounded by a group of rowdy people. Secondly, she’s dark-skinned, voluptuous, and seems to want everyone to know it. She’s dressed for the clubs more than a side street bar. Two guys she’s arrived with are obviously vying for her attention, but she floats over to one of the active pool tables and immediately starts flirting for the next game. Simon’s not immune to a soft woman with miles of leg, so he can’t blame any of them for welcoming her and her posse.

“Damn,” Kyle mutters, giving her an appreciative once over from his seat.

“What?” Johnny asks, looking over his shoulder like a fucking muppet. “Oh, damn.”

Price arches an eyebrow at Simon. “That good?” When he gets a nod, he turns to look. “…Damn.”

She has to know that everyone at the bar is looking at her, but she doesn’t seem to care. Just talks and laughs, flirts with the men and women around her like breathing. Simon never loses awareness of her. She’s in his sight line. But eventually, he’s integrated her into his awareness of the space. She’s a bright spot, but not rowdy enough to cause issues.

And then she passes their table on the way to the bathroom with her friends. She meets Simon’s eyes, gives him a quick up and down look, then winks with a little smirk as she disappears from view.

“What about you, LT?” Johnny’s voice breaks in.

Simon replays the conversation in his mind for a moment. Recruit performance. Lance Corporal Bennett. “Don’t much care for him. ‘S cocky and mean.”

“Good scores,” Kyle points out.

“He talks shit about the others,” Simon counters. “Good scores don’t mean shit if no one wants to work with him. We’ll see how he does with coordinated drills.”

“Now, Bakshi,” Price says, “he’s got promise. Scores are decent, and I can’t find a single person to say anything bad about him. Except Bennett.”

Johnny snorts. “Except Bennet.”

Simon lets the conversation fade away again. The pool tables are getting a bit rowdy without the American and her girl friends to dilute the testosterone. A couple of the boys over there are from the base, and they keep throwing glances over to the 141s table, and a table of other officers across the room. They’re keeping things cool. For now.

Just as chests are starting to puff enough that even Johnny and Kyle are paying attention, the girls reappear and diffuse the tension. The American says something that knocks the wind out of one boy’s sails and laughs as she takes his pool stick. She buzzes a kiss against his cheek, then playfully shoves another guy to rack. Just like that, the energy settles.

Simon lets himself be coaxed back into the discussion, especially now that the topics have strayed away from work. He can’t turn the hyper-vigilance off, but he likes going to the bar with his team. Likes talking books and TV shows with Price and mocking Johnny’s taste. He likes listening to Kyle talk music. He’s entering an artist’s name into his notes app, which is why he doesn’t notice the American strutting over until she’s right between Johnny and Kyle.

“Hey guys,” she says with a grin, leaning onto the table. “I thought about asking if any of you have a light, but my friends are leaving to get laid and the pool boys are boring. Can I hang out here until they lose interest? I’ll buy you a round.”

Price snorts into his whiskey. “They stop buying you drinks, then?”

“All they want to buy is drinks,” she laments, fluttering her eyelashes and pouting. “I’ve had three, but they’re not getting any more interesting. I’d rather have some fries and sit and chat.”

“Pull up a chair, bonnie lass,” Johnny says, which predictably gets the girl cooing over his accent.

She introduces herself as Ericka, an American student working on her Masters. She talks with her whole body, and doesn’t seem to know how to have a conversation without flirting. She hates the gym. She likes riding horseback, and winks at Simon when she mentions it. She “kind of pegged you guys as military. It’s the muscles.” She prefers whiskey over scotch, and her friends were supposed to take her clubbing tonight.

“But Tracy’s boyfriend hates going dancing, and she’s got a spine of a jellyfish,” she says, rolling her eyes. She’s waving a fry for emphasis. “So of course, we ended up here after I dressed up-up. Trust me, I know this is not a casual night at the pub type dress. I didn’t get the change of plans until the uber dropped us off out front. But I guess it turned out alright. I have no idea what kind of music I’d have been subjected to. Devon has shit taste, so I probably dodged a bullet.”

Even with as much as she’s batting her lashes and sending him interested glances, Ericka doesn’t try to make Simon talk more. With the rest of the table, she’s an excellent conversationalist. As he scans the bar again, he listens to her pick up the music topic with Kyle, drawing Price into a light hearted disagreement. Turns to Johnny with a pout for a tiebreaker. Which somehow gets them all into discussion of the best rock and roll genres. She talks, she listens, she engages. It’s refreshing. Most of the Americans they have to deal with are pushy and self-important officers and mercenaries.

Simon’s not above admitting that it helps that she’s beautiful.

After a couple of hours, it’s nearing 1am. Right on schedule, Kyle yawns. “Sorry, sorry. Not a night owl like some.”

“’S late,” Price admits. “Should probably head out. You have a ride home, Ericka?”

“Yeah, I’ll call a car,” she says, easily. “Thanks for hanging out with me, I’ll have to come back some time.”

“If we’re in town, we’re here,” Johnny says, grinning.

Outside, Erikca’s car gets delayed a couple of times, so Simon sends the boys ahead home and stays to wait with her. Price claps him on the shoulder and Johnny gives him an exaggerated wink. Ericka rolls her eyes and shoos them away when their car arrives.

“So,” she says, when it’s just the two of them. “Was I too subtle before, or are you interested in coming back to my place?”

“Barely spoke to you all night,” Simon points out.

“Come over and you can tell me about your tattoos,” she purrs. Then she smirks. “Or not. Up to you. But I figured I’d shoot my shot.”

[Super sexy sex happens here. Probably.]

Monday morning, Ghost sips a fresh brewed travel mug of tea and listens idly to Soap’s chatter on the way to one of the smaller briefing rooms. He’s looking forward to seeing Laswell, who’s on their side of the pond for a change. It’s always good for him to lay eyes on allies and confirm for himself that they’re alive.

It’s a shock, then, when he and Soap open the door to be greeted by Kate in deep discussion with Ericka.

Soap, of course, is more than happy to say what they’re both thinking. “What the fuck?”

When Ericka looks up and sees them, she grins. “Hey there, boys.”

Price and Gaz, when they arrive, are similarly gobsmacked. Once everyone is settled Lazwell stands.

“From your faces, you’ve all met,” she says. “So I won’t beat around the bush. Say hello to your new infiltration asset. Meet Bricks.”

All of them are speechless as Ericka lays four gray USB sticks on the table. They’re all the ones Price had distributed Thursday, with instructions that the keep one on them at all times. Plus an extra one. If Simon had to guess, Gaz was the one to have a decoy on him.

“Bullshite,” Soap says, pulling an identical USB stick from his pocket. “I’ve had mine on me the whole time.”

“Decoy,” Ericka, Bricks, says. “Slide the port out, you’ll see a pink dot.”

Simon pulls his from his pocket, pushes the little slider. Faded, but present, there’s a pink spot of permanent marker. “Fuck.”

“She’s one of the best infiltration assets we have,” Kate goes on. “She’ll be joining you to get information from Jacó Barboza. We have reason to believe he’s the link between Moscow and Rio, which opens the door to Bogotá.”

[carcarrot]

columbo - "the most dangerous match"

[chiropteracupola]

you can turn anyone into little creechures :)

[avocado-hater]

If I had a nickle for everytime I've seen Timmy C marrying Florence P even tho he is in love with someone else I'd have two nickles which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

[loverangels]

I saw laurie Lawrence and i got so excited (i see no fics of him even though he’s like the perfect man even if he sucks sometimes.) i’m excited to see your writings <3

the way things go

pairings- laurie laurence x fem!reader

summary- after over hearing laurie propose to your sister Jo, heartbroken you decide to leave to paris

warnings- angst, not proofread nothing else

'would you do me the greatest honour of making me your husband.'

Laurie's words seemed to replay and echo in the dull hollow walls of your mind. Your heart ached as tears dripped down your face . You were going to tell Laurie you loved him. You thought he loved you.

It was obvious now that you were wrong.

With a hand clamped over your mouth, you muffled the sob threatening to break out from your throat.

What made it worse was that he hadn't proposed to anyone else.

He proposed to Jo.

Anger simmed through you, overtaking the flow of your pain. You had asked Jo if something between her and Laurie had been going on and everytime she replied with 'don't be silly! Laurie's like my brother!' or 'laurie!? What possibly could make you think that!?' and brushed it off with furrowed brows and a disgusted frown.

But that didn't match up with what you had just witnessed.

Through the slightly ajar door, you walked down the hallway of lauries and his grandfather's house, hoping to speak to him only to be met with the sight of Laurie on one knee facing Jo, with a small velvet box holding one of the most gorgeous ring you have ever seen.

'would you do me the greatest honour of make me your husband.'

You held back your sob and flew down the stairs not caring if either of Jo or Laurie heard you.

You ran. Ran till you were in your bedroom, without a second thought, stuffing the rest of your precious belongings into your suitcase, filling it to the brim.

You looked around at your room savouring every inch before hauling your suitcase and down the stairs.

'you're already leaving so early?'

Marmees soft gentle voice called out from behind you, and you sighed turning around to face.

'should I get laurie to help you?'

A weak smile formed on your face, but you knew it was no use. Marmee could see right through anyone.

'no it's alright..I wouldn't want to bother him' your words came out more bitter than you intended to.

Soon without telling Meg, Jo, Beth, or Amy, you walked out of the door.

And to Paris.

'would you do me the greatest honour of make me your husband.'

Laurie knelt on knee holding the velvet box to Jo.

Jo squealed and grabbed Laurie up, wrapping her arms around his neck.

'its perfect! It's time, we need to go tell the others!'

'wait I need to look presentable' Laurie joked before dusting his clothes off and fixing the rough state of his hair.

The pair soon went to Lauries grandfather and told him the news.

He was ecstatic.

They spent an hour with lauries grandfather, before trampling through the thick mount of snow to tell marmee and the girls.

'is she here?', Laurie asked marmee.

Marmee sadly smiled, 'shes already left to the train station'

Laurie felt his heart drop to his stomach.

'what?'

'shes already left to Paris, if you're lucky the train might not have departed yet due to the snow storm.'

You sat on one of the benches at the train station, the bell jar in your hand, as you read impatiently waiting for your train to arrive.

Soon the call of your train was made.

You grabbed your suitcase and bag, holding the book with our arm.

As you began to struggle as you attempted to haul your suitcase and bag on the train, you felt arms grab your suitcase and a familiar voice.

'wait!'

You turned around to see Laurie, his hair sticking in all directions, and his face flushed from the snow.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the train.

'what were you thinking? You were just going to leave? Without telling the girls? Without telling me?' his voice was strained and raspy as if he had been screaming.

'laurie I don't have time for this- the train its leaving!' you harshly ripped yourself from Laurie's grip, attempting to chase the train down as it slowly departed, only to be in his hold again.

He held you against his chest.

'youre not leaving. You cant-why?'

You struggled to find your words.

You looked at him million answers as to why. Why? 'why? Really Laurie why? You know exactly why!' you held a finger to him accusingly as you jabbed him in the chest 'you- what happened to us? We were so close. I love you Laurie. That's 'why?'.' Laurie's jaw dropped as you continued. 'i love you and I thought...' your voice trailed off as you swallowed the lump in your throat frustrated. 'i thought you loved me to. And I went. I went to tell you but you already proposed, I was too late. You love her.' your voice dropped with jealousy and anguish.

'what?' Laurie asked his brows furrowed as he bit the inside of his cheek 'who are you taking about? I love you. Only you.'

You were confused. But didn't he propose to Jo? 'laurie I saw you... I saw..but you proposed to jo.'

Lauries faced changed. His eyes widened as his mouth slowly formed into a grin before he started laughing.

'laurie it's not funny!' you exclaim, yet also finding yourself trying to hide your smile, pushing him away playfully.

Laurie grabbed your hands, enlacing his fingers with yours.

'god, i was practicing to propose.' he chuckled ' I was practicing to propose. To you.'

'oh.' was all that left your mouth but it was nothing compared to the whirlwind of emotions in your stomach.

'so what do you say? Will you be my wife?' he asked grinning as his hands revealed a small velvet box holding the same gorgeous diamond ring.

'yes!' you beamed at him, your cheeks flushed as he slid the ring on your finger.

As laurie quickly embraced you, his chin on your head as you wrapped your arms around your torso, Laurie chuckled,

'i can't believe that after all that practicing this is the propsosal.'

'well I guess that's just the way things go.'

a/n I hate this so much but idk if it's just me 😭 I hope it's okay for you guys!

[crayonverse]

Zane: laurance has to walk past my house on his way to work

Zane: I like to stand on my front porch with a hammer to let him know if he goes a millimetre on my yard I’m hitting him with it

Zane: he’s had to outrun me six times. He’s only escaped because I have asthma. If Irene didn’t weigh me down with it I would’ve caught him

—

Laurance: I fucking hate garroths brother

[rottentiger-art]

And without a sheer of remorse, mind you

[chimaerakitten]

Literally the whole time I was reading the Temeraire series I was constantly thinking about how history is going to view some of the events, most of which must look absolutely wild from the outside.

And anyway I’ve lately come to the conclusion that despite Laurence’s many, many frustrations with the inaccuracies in the way his contemporaries view events that happen around him, he’s going to have the last word in the end because nobody else is writing shit down.

Like, Laurence is a very good corespondent who writes letters constantly and reports diligently, which is not true of most aviators. And considering how much of the series is just Tem&Co traveling all over the place there’s huge swathes of the story for which Laurence’s reports would be the only English-language primary source. Sipho will almost certainly be the one who writes the interesting, descriptive, polished versions, (the ones people actually want to read 200 years later) but he’ll be writing them years after the fact so Laurence’s reports will be the thing to check everything else against.

Which is going to mean there’s a lot of things that will eventually go down in history accurately despite several major colonial powers wishing it otherwise, but it will also make it hilariously difficult puzzle out anything about Laurence’s temperament etc. because the image of his personality that emerges from his oft-cited extremely dry reports and the image that emerges from every outside source is going to just be wildly different. Which will only increase the likelihood that he’s going to be one of those “ask six historians from six countries about him and you’ll get seven answers” historical figures despite the fact that in the English-speaking world at least he’s one of the people with the greatest control over the historical narrative.

[meljayne]

I met some of the ghosts and gave my print of the Captian and Havers dancing in the style of JC Leyendecker. I also got to see their costumes and talk to Martha and Larry. It was an awsome event where I got to meet some other lovely ghosts fans and even give them cards of my art!!

Ben was first in line, so he saw the prints and I asked him to sign one of them. He also signed the book while I was telling him about the painting and giving him his own copy. I told him that I liked him in Me and You (because I cannot stop myself) and double science (which is a radio drama he wrote and starred in from like 2008) and he LIT UP when I mentioned double science (see below)

And then I was going to talk to Martha but the person in front of me was still talking to her and then Larry got a look at the print in my hand (because we didn't want Ben's signature to smudge) and he was like "Wow, that's amazing, did you paint that?" and he took it from me to have a look at it before giving it back, and then I told him that my favourite minor Yonderland character was Kendall, and he was like, oh, yes. And that I also really liked his elder character, especially the "if I would have known how loud winning would be, I would have chosen a different side" and "Oh, and I want to be a woman." Truly icon behavior, and he seemed to agree with me.

And that was how i spent an incredibly special 3 minutes of my life. It was kind of a hard day, being back in London for the first time since 2020, but they made it all better. I wish I could have met Martha properly, but seeing them all smile made it all worth it.

[captain-rickbond]

Laz the Mechanic 🔧

[undefeatablesin]

Anyway, please behold my special boy that I love dearly and my other hunters loathe 💕

[dragonnarrative-writes]

8 and 9 for the ask game! -- Left Charlie

8: What is your biggest challenge?

Getting started when I sit down to write is so hard. Every draft I have has a "Stutter Start" section, where I write 3-6 paragraphs that don't feel correct. Usually, it's one of two issues: the character voice doesn't feel right or I'm trying to start the story in the "wrong place."

The best way that I've been able to approach this challenge is to ask myself a lot of questions. Why am I starting there? What shift in emotion is happening to start the story (this one is important!)? What does my character want in this moment in the story, and is that actually important to the story?

Part of the reason the latest chapter of Slasher Handler took so long is because I couldn't make the "capture the flag" game go anywhere! No matter what I did, Reader running through the woods wasn't leading to anything. I had to scrap it so many times. She was tired and frustrated and wanted a nap - not nearly as compelling as the shift to "oh shit, I stabbed him!" So I jumped ahead.

(Approaching it from Simon's point of view has been much more cooperative.)

9: How would you describe your writing style?

My first thought was character and dialogue heavy. Lots of run on sentences! Lots of in depth character examination (even when I don't want to)! Lots of exclamation points!

As a writer, I want you to feel the emotions of the characters, more than anything else. I want it to make sense for a character to act or react. I LOVE when people leave comments and tags telling me how they were shocked or moved right along side a character.

My partner, we'll call them Laurence, says I'm a non-linear writer, which I would also agree with! I do a lot of jumping around. I've gotten better at writing a bit more linearly, thank goodness. It used to be that I'd write the beginning, then the end, and then the middle, then I'd have to rewrite the end, but that changed the beginning, which changed the middle... 😅

Thanks for the ask!

[chiropteracupola]

step 1 put legs on the seviper. step 2 put the seviper on a naval officer of your choice. step 3 ???? step 4 defeat napoleon I guess?

[mx-myth]

Little thing I wrote because everyone was throwing prompts around on the discord and I got inspired.

When Laurence was young, it was disappointing to be markless. He was never content with not having a soulmate, even with the informal arrangement he had with Edith. He remembers conversations spent together, wondering how long they would have to wait before their soulmates would be born and for their mark to appear.

He cares much less about it now. Perhaps he had felt belated horror after the initial shock ran through his crew aboard the Reliant as Temeraire first spoke and as black scales bloomed across his face. Laurence had felt nothing at the time, no physical sensation to signify the appearance of his soulmark. It was only when Temeraire was eating that Riley had stepped up and quietly told him of what had occurred.

It had taken him a long time to come to terms with having a dragon as a soulmate. But now Laurence wears his mark with pride. Black scales cover his left cheek, reaching down his neck and over the majority of his chest, inked across three-quarters of his arm and stretching down to mid-thigh. It is a huge mark, which would be looked down upon in the polite society in which he was raised. But why wouldn't it be large, given that Temeraire has dominated his life since he entered it?

Laurence remembers being reassured upon meeting the other aviators. Harcourt has lilies blooming up and down her back, she's said, and at times he can glimpse the edges of petals peeking up out of her collar at her neck. Granby has an entire bicep encircled with fire, which became immediately self-explanatory when Iskierka hatched, and even more so when he lost part of his arm. Berkley, in contrast to how large Maximus is, has scales scattered across the backs of his hands in Regal Copper red. James has Volly's colours painted up and down his legs. The Rolands both have blue and orange and white over their cheekbones. Even Little, who Laurence counts as an acquaintance verging on friend, has Immortalis around his wrists. Very quickly he learned that it was more uncommon for an aviator and their dragon to not be soulmates; his large and prominent mark apparently did a lot of work smoothing his arrival in ways he was unconscious of in the beginning.

He had worried also in the beginning whether the rumor was true that dragons didn't have soulmarks. He was afraid of him and Temeraire being different, more so than they already were. But on that front so too were his concerns put to rest.

Perhaps he should have known better. After all, he had known as soon as he looked into Temeraire's blue eyes and seen the storming, crashing waters of the sea within them, no shore in sight as the sky wheeled overhead. It was the sight that made him fall in love with the sea the first time and, he thinks fondly, scratching Temeraire under his closed eye, the sight that made him fall in love with Temeraire too.

(I have a fountain pen and so it doesn't dry up I try and write a little bit every couple of days. Most of it is temeraire-related; I'm thinking the ones small enough to not be fics technically I might post)

[carcarrot]

columbo - "the most dangerous match"

[katyahina]