#lysander au line

[thegorydamnreaper]

Ajax and Lysander

Inspired by this scene from Dark Age:

“Is it him?” Kalindora asks a taller, younger knight in armor the color of a storm cloud. His skin is black, his eyes violent amber. The pelt of a pearl leopard sways from his powerful shoulders as he steps forward to examine me. For a moment, it feels as if we’re both looking through a dirty pane of glass, leaning and squinting to see if the apparition on the other side is really a long-lost friend or merely some trick.

I barely recognize the man I once called “brother.”

Only the long lashes of his eyes are the same.

In the eleven years since I last saw him, his plump features, often an item of hushed ridicule on the Palatine, have melted away to reveal an Adonic visage so surly, so passionate, so manly even Cassius might, in a drunken moment, declare some minor flaw in the man in hopes of diluting his own utter jealousy.

Octavia was always disappointed in her little genetic experiment. She would not be now. Ajax, son of the loveless genetic union of Aja and Atlas au Raa, is a masculine specimen.

By the phalera that bedeck Ajax’s armor, I see he has already fulfilled his childhood dreams. He wears not just his Peerless scar, but insignia signifying the office of Storm Knight, and the rank of a full Legate infantry commander.

With my scarless face and my drab civilian vestments, before the two Olympic Knights, I feel my ten-year absence more acutely than ever.

“You are the man who claims to be Lysander au Lune,” Ajax sneers.

“Ajax.” Mistaking his tone for banter, I reach to embrace him. The Stained block my path. I actually feel wounded. “Don’t you recognize me?”

Ajax’s eyes narrow to slits. “Test him with the Manteío.”

Hope you guys like it!! ♥️

[charcoalstardust]

prob gonna post some random ass paragraphs from wips/oneshots/stories that i don't plan on posting to tumblr bc i have anxiety

ig if anyone expresses interest in any of them i'll debate on finishing and/or posting those

[lady-adeliza]

Thank you so much!

Hello Charlie Bone Tumblr! (And everyone else who wants to participate!) Welcome to my silly little first event <3

The Bad Shipping Fic Bingo!

What is a fic bingo?, you may ask. Well, you will receive a bingo card. Instead of numbers, there will be prompts or ships. Your goal is to include as many of these as possible in any fanfictions you write, mark them off and maybe even get a bingo!

There is no limit to how many fics you can write, or how many prompts should appear in each fic. Don't take it too seriously! You don't need to include anything you don't want to, and are free to mark background ships as written or write a very liber interpretation of a trope. Whatever fits you best!

Now, here's the catch: this isn't just a Fic Bingo, it's a BAD Fic Bingo. Many of these prompts are especially suited for low-effort writing and bad interpretations of characters and ships. I'm including a field that will feature randomly generated shippings. This doesn't mean whatever you write has to be bad. It's just a fun thing we came up with and a way to ensure no one feels pressured to write well! Every Fandom needs some beloved bad works, no?

How do I participate?

Just ask in the notes or contact me on Discord! I will reply with a bingo card for you!

You can ask me for a specific size (3x3, 4x4, 5x5 with a free space...), for me to exclude (specific) ships or include "mature prompts" (bad smut and unrealistic depictions of oregnancy/substance use. you're not really missing out on much)

You can also participate without a card! I'm definitely not going to stop you, anyways ;)

Don't (want to) write Fanfiction? Feel free to do a comic, a bullet list, or whatever form of art you prefer! Bloor's isn't limited to one type, either ;)

If you're going to post to ao3, you can add your fics to this collection. If you post to ao3, @ me and I'll reblog them on here :D

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Candle Store

Author’s note: More of Ramiel and Jophiel in Husbandry AU.

Summary: Ramiel and Jophiel wander into a Candle store

Warnings: None? Let me know if I need to add anything!

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis

Ramiel had noticed that they were running low on candles for the private shrine that the Primaris Marines have set up in their quarters. While he could go to the quarter master and request some candles, in exchange for work.

Another option could be to make the candles, but Jophiel had noticed what he was looking over and had said that one of the times that he had been going through Gannet Point, he had spotted a shop dedicated to selling a wide variety of candles.

Ramiel had pointed out to Jophiel that they would need to get local currency in order to buy candles from a baseline shop. Jophiel had grinned at him saying that some people had commissioned him for his embroidery and he'd gotten those commissions done.

He had gotten local currency, among other things, for the needle point work that he'd finished recently. Jophiel was happy to spend some of the local currency on candles. So the pair of them had made plans for during their time off to go to the candle store and check it out.

Ramiel really liked candles, they soft light they gave off, the flickering light that glowed softly in the darkness. The way that they illuminated something, without being overly bright.

The pair of Primaris Marines go to the Candle shop, it's only about a twenty minute power walk away from the Loyalist Base, and still is in Gannet Point.

After double checking, before heading out to the shop, it was rated Space Marines friendly and they headed into the store. It had wooden colored walls. It had a lot of different kinds of candles in glass containers with wooden tops.

Ramiel coughs a little at the strong scent that comes wafting, invading his nose and he quickly puts on his helmet in order to filter out the almost overwhelming smell of all the different kinds of scented candles.

He sees Jophiel stagger a little bit and his eyes water as he puts on his helmet and groans to Ramiel quietly that he might get a small headache from the overpower smell of the different candles.

Despite that minor hiccup, they look around the shop, there are a bunch of base line humans in the store, and some of them are in the candle shop uniform.

One of them is looking at the pair of Space Marines nervously- one of them going into the employees only section of the shop. Ramiel and Jophiel had noticed that, but were very happy to go through the various candles, lightly holding them and assessing the look, smell and quality of the candles.

Discussing the various pros and cons of the different candles, particularly the scented ones. They turn when they hear someone approach them and see a first born space marine in an Astartes-sized version of the candle shop uniform approach them.

He's heavily scarred and neither Jophiel or Ramiel can figure out which Chapter he's from. "Hello there brothers," The first born says slowly, a slight lisp, due to a scar that carves through his lips that has his face in a permanent sneer. "I see you are enjoying the shop. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Oh- we were just looking for some candles," Jophiel says, the more talktive and outgoing of the pair of Scout aged Primaris Marines cheerfully.

"I can recommend you some Astartes-tolerable scented candles, if you would like." The First born marine offers.

"That would be great," Jophiel says with bright smile.

"I go by Lysander," The First Born says. "Can I know your names?"

"I am Jophiel," Jophiel introduces, and waves a hand at Ramiel, "And this is Ramiel."

"It's nice to meet both of you," Lysander says, "Just as a reminder, little cousins, do you have local currency?"

"I do have local currency with me," Jophiel says as he pulls out a hand stitched and embroidered pouch that rustled with local currency in it.

Lysander nods and goes over the various options for candles that are Astartes-safe scented and they decide on half a dozen different candles. The expense for the hand crafted candles is a little surprising to Jophiel- but he's able to cover the bill with an easy smile.

The way that Ramiel had been like an kid in a candy story as they looked around the Candle store had been worth it, well worth it to see the happy expression on his often melancholic brother-cousin's face.

[thelonelybrilliance]

thelonelybrilliance/TolkienGirl: My Year in Fanfic

In addition to posting a nice even number of unique fics for AO3 scrolling purposes (60), I also launched some ambitious projects, finally wrote a few one-shots for my favorite small fandoms, and completed some megafics. The Silmarillion Gold Rush AU (cc: @abadpoetwithdreams and @wearetakingthehobbitstogallifrey) is steadily progressing. @mapleymood and I are bringing The Summer I Turned Pretty into the realm of literature 😉. And my endless analysis of Friday Night Lights with @itspileofgoodthings has produced yet more fictional musings.

Without further ado:

COMPLETED MULTI-CHAPS:

Pharmakós - An epic, entirely original saga that took several years to complete (started in 2021). In our Gold Rush retelling of The Silmarillion, the Finwean cousins (Maedhros, Fingon, Finrod) lead a diplomatic delegation to Doriath, only to encounter unexpected friends and foes under Elu Thingol's roof

The Figurehead - My take on Stranger Things Season 5, with Steve/Nancy as the heart and soul. Picks up right where Season 4 left off (started in 2022)

with unbroken rhythm - Estrela waits in Mithrim. But Mithrim itself is not unchanging, and unlikely news has a way of finding its mark (Gold Rush AU)

here is my hand, my heart, my throat, my wrist - Maedhros, finding his voice (Gold Rush AU)

WIP MULTI-CHAPS:

crooked love (in a straight line down) - Broken promises, distant memories... Taylor Jewel and Jeremiah Fisher should have nothing in common but mutual resentment. Why do they share a growing understanding instead? (The Summer I Turned Pretty crack-treated-seriously sequel, with @mapleymood)

nativity scenes - An ongoing look at the first memories around each Finwean grandchild's birth (with @abadpoetwithdreams and @wearetakingthehobbitstogallifrey, Gold Rush AU)

To the Young Who Want to Die - Sequel to Pharmakós; a not-entirely-triumphant return to Mithrim (Gold Rush AU)

Penetralium - A different sequel to Pharmakós; Melkor Bauglir moves house, licks his wounds, and regroups (Gold Rush AU)

ONE-SHOTS (by fandom):

The Silmarillion

Gold Rush AU 2024 Installments

Red Rising

born to raise the sons of earth - She’s proven Eo right. And it wasn’t because of me. It wasn’t because of love. It was because it was the right thing to do, and because mighty Kavax was more a father to her than her own ever was. (Mustang, pre-series & Morning Star)

Lights that do mislead the Morn - If she didn’t love him, why learn him? (Mustang/Cassius, Morning Star)

Swan Song - It’s only now, loitering at the threshold of the med-bay, that Mustang can admit she’s been avoiding this moment. She’s afraid of her brother. She’s afraid of losing Darrow—and the future she’s trying to safeguard for them both. For Pax, her deepest thoughts whisper, half-haunted that even the voices in her head can be heard by listening ears intent on betrayal. She’s afraid of the war turning inward, ally against ally. She shouldn’t be afraid of the man in the bed. (Mustang/Cassius, Morning Star)

looking for an easier world - How I miss them—the friends whose lives have marched on without me. (Cassius, Dark Age)

worth no less than a brother - Today, instead of Aurae’s ministrations and musical voice, I have a bloodydamn Bellona with coffee-breath aiming hits at every part of my body that hasn’t already sustained major trauma. (Darrow & Cassius, Light Bringer)

Wasteland - He is not a man on a journey. He is not a man who can afford to fail. (Diomedes, Dark Age)

Imperative - “I wonder how he shall bear death,” Roque muses. He selects a grape to pluck. How he can eat them after Fitchner—“Even after everything, I wonder that.” (Cassius & Roque, Morning Star)

we can still hear the sound of the surf (though we shall land no more) - Kalindora told me to trust this man, who holds a wicked, serrated blade over my chest and purses his lips as if deep in thought. (Lysander & Atlas (& Cassius), Light Bringer)

A Deep-Sworn Vow - “You think I’m a man?” “I think you’re a pissant little boy possessed by a demon.” (Victra/Sevro, Morning Star)

forgetting is a kind of mercy - Even with her heart carefully armored by layers of fierce temper and her tongue as sharp as one of her blades, it is her turn to be compassionate, because it is my mother who is dead. (Pax & Electra, Dark Age)

the dead do not suffer the living to pass  - Three lives, three passages. (Julian, Pax, Cassius, Red Rising)

Friday Night Lights

Clear Eyes - Season 2 Codas (ongoing - 11/15 completed)

in what distant deeps or skies - Smash and Tim go on an adventure (s1)

I lie to myself all the time (but I never believe me) - Like a bruise, is hope. You have to come around to its existence, its tenderness. (Tim, Jackie, Bo, s1)

you know it might be worth it for once - Come into my life, she was saying, like he’d never left it. (Tim/Tyra, s5)

The Queen's Thief

had chosen thus to fling his soul - “This will be the last journey, I promise,” she murmured, after a moment. “Another mark beside my name,” he said lightly. (Gen & Helen, pre-Queen of Attolia)

we insist on love (when all we want is mercy) - Every power that Eugenides knew—and some, maybe, that he didn’t—had brought him here, alone at the foot of a secret stairwell, waiting for a queen who wasn’t his. (Gen/Irene, Queen of Attolia)

a swing in prime - The truth of his loneliness was the only thing he could never tell her. Honesty stopped short when checked by love. (Gen/Irene, King of Attolia)

neutral islands - Helen did not know whether she ought to take note of her own enjoyment of Sophos’ company… yet enjoy it she did. (Helen/Sophos, A Conspiracy of Kings)

a kind of contentment - Eugenides, Kamet, and promises kept. (Gen & Kamet, flashback connected to Thick as Thieves)

A Shop for Killers

Dragonfly - Amidst all her learning—their learning—about how to be people who shared a roof and pretended not to share a history, Jian was the only witness to the slow development of her uncle’s real self. (Jeong Jinman & Jeong Jian)

Gethsemane - One does not walk into hell and expect a favorable outcome. (Jeong Jinman & Jeong Jian)

Pride and Prejudice

just as they used to be then - “I have commissioned a Mr. Plimer to come and take your portraits while you are at home,” Mr. Darcy said, seeming satisfied with the explanation he had received. “He is an accomplished miniaturist, and I believe the small table in my room will be amply improved by the addition of your three faces, if you will oblige me.” It was a compliment that could not but bear a sting. (Darcy & Wickham, pre-canon)

Mara, Daughter of the Nile

behold thou my heart (which grieveth for thee) - Sheftu had plucked hope like a flower, even while he should have heeded its thorn. (Mara/Sheftu, missing scene post-canon)

The Witch of Blackbird Pond

like rain carrying the memory of lightning - Confound the girl, but she’s in every sky and storm, in every wave and calm. (Kit/Nat, Nat POV missing scene)

White Collar

Patchwork Man - Back in the world, new anklet and old digs—it doesn’t have to be perfect to be too good to be true. Because that’s the heart of the matter, isn’t it? When you slip the noose, the world doesn’t become a kinder place, and it certainly doesn’t stop turning. (Neal & Peter, s2)

Once Upon a Time

parallels - It’s a bad day to be Emma Swan, sure. But it’s also a bad day to be an overly self-assured, literally underhanded pirate. (Captain Swan, s2)

The Office/Friday Night Lights

the drop-dead dream (the chosen one) - In which Michael Scott does not mourn his stepdad (unless he does), and has his life changed at a Dillon Panthers game (unless he doesn't).

[floydmtalbert]

le départ

Lou + Rosie, a succession of trains, and a Westland Lysander, for @mercurygray! A follow-up to this wonderful piece, an AU in which Merc’s Joan and my Louise are running an escape line.

It is a morning of ragged cloud and fitful sunshine, the southern outskirts of the city rinsed by the recent rain and buffed up to a shine by the wind. The cold, hard light throws everything into sharp relief: the acres of cheap housing, the wasteland of railway sidings and warehouses and factories, the handful of people waiting on the platform at Ivry. They carry bags and suitcases and have a dark, shuttered look about them. No one speaks. This is Paris in its fourth year of occupation: the silver city, tarnished and battered, silence and suspicion amongst strangers.

Louise and Robert stand apart from the other travellers, huddled against the wind, his arm around her shoulders and hers around his waist. Casual, patient, as though none of this really matters. They are just a young suburban couple, newlyweds, heading to the country for the weekend.

The Bordeaux train draws in from the Gare d’Austerlitz, wheezing steam, half an hour late and already packed, even in the first-class carriages. Louise appeals to an elderly woman sat by the window, asking if she would move so that she and her husband might sit together. The woman sighs and grumbles, glaring at them with rheumy eyes, but eventually they are settled, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. She can feel the warmth of him even through the layers of his clothing, the sweater Ferraby had offered up, its sleeves a little too short for Robert, the suit and thick wool coat in a nondescript grey that she and Joan had chosen with care. As the train heaves itself into motion and gathers speed, he turns his head to look out of the window, and she turns her head to look at him. If only… she thinks, but stops herself.

If only we really were going away for the weekend. If only this journey would never end. If only the war was simply something happening to other people.

At Étampes, an inspector walks down the corridor, stepping over people and luggage, calling for tickets. He stops at their compartment, a police officer behind him, and there is the dutiful pause while people rifle through handbags, search through pockets. Louise takes out her ticket, waits a second while Robert does the same, following her lead, and then hands both of them over. The man glances down at the tickets, and up again at their faces, and passes them back. Then the door slides closed and he and the policeman are gone.

With great sighs the train traipses on into the flat farmland of La Beauce, where the fields are brushed green with sprouting winter wheat and the sky is a cool blue.

In the outskirts of Orléans they slow. The marshalling yards of Fleury-les-Aubrais have recently been bombed and everywhere there is wreckage, wagons thrown about, rails twisted and knotted, the ruins of buildings still smoking. In silence people stare out of the window at these signs of what is to come, while the carriages rattle and jolt over the single track that has been repaired.

At the station itself, doors slam and people come and go. They hear heavy footsteps in the corridor, Germans this time, two sergeants of the Feldgendarmerie in their grey uniforms and silver breastplates, flanking another man in a belted raincoat and trilby, a uniform in itself. Louise and Robert hand over their tickets and the identity cards bearing the names Anaïs Hélène Gauthier and Maxence Charles Gauthier.

“You are travelling to Angoulême?” the Gestapo officer asks. He speaks French well, which she always finds unsettling: no hope of hiding behind incomprehension, of playing for time with confusion.

“Yes.”

“For what purpose?”

Louise glances at Robert with a small smile, reaches for his hand. “We’re having a few days away.”

The German looks between them and then back at their papers, turning them over in his hands, lingering. Time seems to slow. Louise holds Robert’s hand tightly in hers, feeling his pulse racing against her own skin, just as her thoughts are racing. How would she act if she were entirely innocent, if she really were a young Frenchwoman taking a trip with her husband? How would Anaïs Gauthier behave? She would hardly care at all, would sit there and deal with it, this little interruption to her day.

And so Louise puts her hand on Robert’s cheek, tilts his face down to hers, and kisses him. Nonchalance, Gallic insouciance, in the face of everyday inconvenience.

At last the Gestapo officer turns his attention away from them. Questions are asked of the other passengers in the compartment, and then he tells them all to wait and steps outside with their documents.

The elderly woman sighs, and the two men sat next to her, minor bureaucratic types, mutter in low tones, complaining about the delay, wondering if they will still make their meeting in Blois. Louise says nothing. Sweat prickles under her arms, in the small of her back. She can feel the dampness of Robert’s hand, as well, and still the thud of his pulse.

He puts his mouth close against her ear and says, so quietly only she can hear: “What are they doing?”

She forces herself to smile, coyly, as if he has just whispered an endearment. She turns her face into his neck and then tips her head up to murmur into his ear, her voice no louder than a breath. “Checking lists. Noting names. Don’t know.”

The door opens again with a crash and the officer reappears. “Alright,” he says, passing the documents back, before he and his military policemen head into the next compartment.

Don’t ever look relieved, she had been told at Beaulieu. The instructor’s voice echoes in her ear, even at the distance of two years and hundreds of miles. Don’t look relieved, because being relieved means you were scared, and being scared means you have something to hide. Louise keeps her expression calm, indifferent, but as she returns her identity card to her handbag Robert smiles at her, and she can’t help but smile back, a hint of triumph in her eyes.

The train jolts forward, and they are moving again at last, on through the city of Orléans itself, the city of la Pucelle, Sainte Jeanne d’Arc. Louise thinks briefly of Joan, her Joan, who had seen her off the night before last with deux bisous and a handful of francs Louise was sure had come from Joan’s own purse and not from London. Hardly a maiden, dressed not in breeches and armour but in immaculate skirt suits, and still the kind of woman to be spoken of with something approaching reverence.

Louise smiles a little to herself, looking out of the train window at France, for which she had come in the first place, and thinking of Joan, and Ferraby, and all of her comrades, and every airman she had guided back into the fight, for whom she had stayed.

Soon they are out of the city and into the bare fields of the floodplain with the line of the river visible as a distant fringe of willows. Robert dozes, his cheek resting against the top of her head, while Louise pretends to sleep and instead keeps track of the other passengers in the compartment. The pair of government officials leave for their meeting in Blois, and two young women take their place, gossiping in low and urgent voices about a man they know, a real salaud, who is going with two girls at once. Should they tell the girls? The debate goes on without ever reaching a conclusion. At Amboise, the man sat next to Louise disembarks, and a mother with a small child replaces him. The train rumbles across the river on a stone bridge and edges its way through the drab suburbs of Tours. Only the elderly woman remains, but when Louise makes a show of waking, just before Saint-Pierre-des-Corps, she sees that the woman is fast asleep, her head nodding on her chest. No one who heard Louise mention Angoulême sees them stand up and retrieve their suitcase and shuffle down the corridor to the end of the carriage.

Robert jumps down onto the platform and takes the suitcase from her, and then holds her around the waist and lifts her down beside him. The guard blows his whistle and the train draws away, leaving a scattering of passengers behind. They file towards the exit while Louise and Robert walk towards the concourse and the ticket office.

They stand on the platform on the other side of the station, waiting for the slow train to Vierzon. It is deserted: there is no one around, no one else taking the train with them, no one to notice them on this February afternoon with the sun casting long shadows and the wind cold on their faces. When the train arrives it is empty, too, and they climb into a compartment and lean back against the faded and threadbare plush.

She touches his arm. “Not long, now,” she says, and he nods, looking at her steadily.

Outside on the platform a whistle blows, and the train lurches forward, on into the countryside. Through their pale reflections in the window are the flat fields of the floodplain between the Loire and the Cher, stretching away to the horizon, brushed with the glow from a setting sun. The sky is a luminous blue like the blue of a stained-glass window. Poplars stand like plumes in the drift of sunlight.

At Azay-sur-Cher a young man is waiting for them. He flicks away the stub of his cigarette and comes forward to greet Louise, kissing her on both cheeks while the two of them go through the little rigmarole of the double password.

She turns to Robert, puts a hand on his elbow. “This is Guy, our air movements officer,” she explains. To the Frenchman she says: “Voici Bob!”

Guy grins, a handsome, boyish grin. “Salut, Bob, ça va?”

“Uh…” Robert takes his outstretched hand and shakes it. “Ça va?” he replies, glancing at Louise with a small smile, and she nods, beaming back at him, both of them remembering sitting in the attic of the atelier, stifling laughter as he stumbled through the phrases she was trying to teach him.

Guy leads them to a shed behind the station house where four bicycles are stored. He wheels the spare one beside him as they cycle off into the gathering dusk, over the level crossing and onto a single-track road meandering through the fields. The land is flat and bare and unending, broken only by lines of poplars planted as windbreaks, willows along the rim of a drainage ditch. Through the trees to the east the moon is rising, replacing the dying sun with its own silvery light.

After a few miles they turn off onto a farm track and bump over ruts and potholes out into the fields. Guy brings them to a halt by a small copse, and dismounts to survey the pasture stretching out before them, looking left and right, squinting into the gloom, taking a few experimental strides over the rough earth and patchy grass.

He returns to them and starts speaking to Louise, and she translates for Robert. “He says things look fine. All okay. There are no obstructions and the ground is firm enough for the aircraft to land. The only worry tonight is fog.”

Behind the copse is a dilapidated barn, empty but for some rusted farm equipment half-covered by canvas tarpaulins. A scant covering of straw is strewn across the floor, and cobwebs hang thickly in every corner and across the walls. Guy and Louise move with well-practised ease, slipping wordlessly into the routine. The Frenchman crosses over to a bundle of fence posts propped against the wall, and selects three stakes about four feet long, each with an end sharpened to a point, while Louise lifts the corner of a sheet of tarpaulin and retrieves some lengths of string and four torches, and tests each one in turn.

“Wait here,” she tells Robert, and she and Guy head outside to set things up.

There is just enough light to see by as they walk out into the field. A hundred yards out Guy plants one stake in the ground and waits while Louise fastens a torch to it. Then he sets off into the distance, marching with wide steps as if performing some ancient and arcane ritual, while she follows behind him, their footsteps leaving a trail in the dewy grass like the wake of a ship in still water. They position the second stake and the second torch, and pace to the right to repeat the process for a third time. Guy glances back at their work, the stakes only visible as vague shadows, and nods at her, satisfied.

Back in the barn they make themselves as comfortable as possible, unwrapping the food Louise and Robert have brought in their suitcase, and sipping ersatz coffee from a flask Guy produces from his satchel. They leave the door open despite the chill night air, using the light of the moon to see rather than risking switching on the torch Louise has kept in her coat pocket.

Guy turns to Robert and says something in French, a question which makes Louise laugh, a bright, young sound out of place in the shadowy and derelict barn. Robert looks at her, curious, and she translates for him: “He asks if you’ve flown before.”

Robert starts to smile. “Just a couple times,” he says wryly.

She looks back at the Frenchman. “Bob is an American airman. A pilot.”

Guy nods, realisation dawning, and makes an apologetic shrug. He says something else, and again Louise laughs and explains for Robert. “He says, she never tells me anything. Whether our guests are British or American, soldiers or airmen. Sometimes I ask foolish questions, but it is good security.”

Another flutter of French passes between them and they share soft laughter at some private joke. Then Guy straightens up and begins speaking to Robert, breaking off every now and then for Louise to translate.

“He says as you have flown many times before you know there is nothing to fear. But we must still explain to you our way of doing things. As it will be quite different to what you are used to.”

She waits while Guy brushes some straw aside and lays out three coins on the floor, forming an inverted ‘L’. “We have positioned three markers out in the field,” she explains, her soft English following Guy’s rapid French, “like this. The pilot will touch down at the first marker, here. He brakes, and stops at the second marker. Then he turns around the third marker and comes back to the first, where we’ll be waiting.”

Again she pauses. “The passengers jump down and unload their luggage, and then you climb up the ladder. There will be a parachute in the aircraft for you, and a flying helmet and oxygen mask.”

Robert frowns. “Will we need oxygen?”

“No, no, but that’s where the microphone is. For the intercom.” Louise smiles at him as he nods. “Every airman I’ve met wishes we had throat microphones like you Americans, but…” She shrugs. “Everything will be plugged in, but you’ll have to flick the on-off switch on the front of the mask when you want to speak.”

They take him through the procedure a second time: where they will stand, where the Lysander will land and turn, what they all must do. Robert listens intently, his eyes fixed on Guy and then on Louise in turn, a small furrow between his brows. It will be fine, they tell him. The whole thing will take no more than five minutes.

“—comme sur des roulettes,” Guy says.

Louise searches for the best translation, and settles on: “Easy-peasy.” She smiles again. “Is that all alright?”

Robert nods. “Yeah. Easy-peasy,” he repeats, and smiles back at her. “Will you, uh—will you tell him that I understand? And will you thank him for me, please?”

She turns to Guy and passes the message along, and the young Frenchman grins, and reaches out to shake Robert’s hand once more.

Presently Guy goes outside to check the landing zone, worried about the police, German troops, worried, above all, about fog. Alone again, Louise and Robert sit close together, leaning into each other.

“You’ll be in England by daybreak,” she tells him. “Before, even.”

“Yeah.” He is quiet for a moment. “Where are you headed? Back to Paris?”

“Mmm. Yes.”

Neither of them says anything more, aware that time is running out, wanting to hold on to the illusion that the night will spin on forever. They wait in silence, even when Guy returns, watching the rectangle of sky through the open door. Overhead, Orion the hunter tilts like a windmill, dragging a whole panoply of constellations behind him, and the moon climbs higher and higher, flooding silver across the fields.

At midnight, Guy gets to his feet and stretches. “Let’s get ready,” he says to Louise. She and Robert follow him out into the moonlight, ghostly shadows moving across the pale countryside. Underfoot the ground is hard with frost. Ribbons of mist are wrapped around the trees along the edge of the field and a bank of fog lies over the river.

“Look,” Guy mutters, pointing. “Fog. It could ruin everything.”

“I know,” Louise whispers back. “But there’s nothing we can do. We just have to wait.”

They wait. Dark figures in a monochrome landscape, staring at the stars, painted by the moon. Cold seeps into them. There are the sounds of night, the distant barking of a dog, the susurration of the icy breeze, and underneath everything the sound of the nearby river. And then something else.

“Can you hear that?”

“What?”

It dies away. Did she imagine it? But the sound returns, a murmur becoming a rumble.

“That’s it!”

Now there is no doubt: an aero engine, the sound coming and going on the breeze and then settling to a steady drumbeat. Louise hands the torch to Guy and he points it up into the night sky, flashing the letter ‘P’ in Morse code. The letter ‘Q’ comes back to them, a small star blinking in the blackness.

Robert points. “I see it!”

Louise turns on the first torch and sets off to the other stakes, running, stumbling on the hard, uneven ground. She reaches the second marker and snaps the torch on, then crosses to the third. As she sprints back to where the men are waiting she sees the Lysander above her, a black shape against the spray of stars.

The aircraft turns towards them, shedding height, growing larger and larger, tilting in the flow of air. The noise of the engine rises and falls as the pilot jazzes the throttle. Suddenly, shockingly, its landing lights are switched on, as brilliant as spotlights so that on the ground they seem exposed to view like figures on a stage. Then, slowly, deliberately, it touches down, bounces, hits again, and rumbles down the flarepath. They watch it turn at the second lamp, and the third, and come back towards them where they wait, deafened by the din, beside the first.

The slipstream hits them as the aircraft turns once more and points into the wind. Guy waves at the pilot in the cockpit and runs up to talk to him. In the rear of the cockpit two passengers are moving. The hatch slides back and a figure emerges and climbs down the ladder to the ground.

Louise turns to Robert, glancing at his eyes, the slope of his nose in the moonlight. She clutches the sleeve of his coat, almost desperately. He faces her, puts his mouth close to her ear.

“Thank you,” he says, half-shouting to be heard over the engine. “Thank you for everything. I wish I could say more.”

She shakes her head, and leans back so that he can see her smile. Then she leans up on her tiptoes. “In this line of work we consider it bad luck to say ‘good luck’,” she tells him, her own voice raised. “So I’ll just say bon voyage. And I hope never to see you in France again.”

He grins back at her. By now the second agent is on the ground and Guy is shouting from beside the nose of the aircraft, his words picked up by the propellor blast and thrown back at them in disorder. “Need—go! Get—quick!”

Louise ushers Robert over to the Lysander. Time hurtles at her—the engine roaring, the propellor a blurred disc against the moonlight, the stars rampaging across the sky—and she just stares at him, wanting to tell him so many things and unable to say them. He nods, as if he has read her mind, and puts one hand on the side of her face and leans down to kiss her.

Then he is gone, up the ladder and into the cockpit, and the pilot gives the thumbs-up, and Louise and Guy run back from the aircraft.

“Go!” Guy yells, gesturing downwind with his hand. “Go, go!”

The engine gains noise, roaring and raging at the night, straining for a moment against the brakes before lurching forward, bumping along, gathering speed, with Robert looking back at her, his face no more than a smudge of whiteness and shadow. Then abruptly the Lysander is in the air, a matte black shape against the luminous black of the sky, climbing, turning, swinging through the stars, and leaving Louise standing in the backwash, her hair blowing in the wind, her coat flapping around her, in tears.

The sound of the Lysander fades into the minutiae of the night. Suddenly she is cold.

Beside her, Guy is shaking hands with the two men, welcoming them to France. She stands for a moment longer, running through what she must do: clear up in the field and the barn, share out the men’s clothing in her suitcase amongst the new agents, put the identity card for Anaïs Gauthier into a slip in the lining and retrieve the papers for Irène Françoise Brochard. Cycle to the safehouse Guy has found for them, and, in the morning, catch the first train to Vierzon and escort the agents to Paris. Move on, get back to work. Keep going.

Guy is looking at her expectantly. She wipes the tears from her cheeks and puts on a smile and walks over to the men waiting for her.

[tashamacie]

Finished piece from the Kalos Crisis AU.

Click image for better quality.

Lumiose has been under attack for over a month with no end in sight. No one can leave, no one can hide. A barrier surrounding the city. It's hazy glow dampers the daylight leaving the streets washed in a film ashy fog. Lysander's hold over Lumoise Tower stands strong. His loyal dispels fight to take the rest of the city and defeat the citizens who resists the massage of the rapture.

In the outskirts, between the walls, around the corners, bellow the ground sheltered in the walls of the subways, and even by Lysander's side, the people of Lumoise City rally to take back their city and by doing so save the rest of the world from the same fate. Ash fights on...

yaaaaayyy Hope you like. Check out my first post regarding the Kalos Crisis AU on my page. It has an overview of the time line.

[mist-the-wannabe-linguist]

"1. What was the original thought that led to the creation of this character?" I love to hear where people get their inspiration from. I'm not sure which character to pick since you have a lot of them so just talk about whichever you want to talk about the most at the moment :)

since no character was specified I hope you don't mind if I talk about the whole of Skies over Jura, because the original concept is actually some three years old now. It's a little silly but it started as a Temeraire crossover AU of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. Back then, as is my tendency to get attached to a canon character with nearly zero "screentime" and mold them into my own character, I was obsessed with the character of Ernest (Victor' Frankensteins middle brother with a grand total of two tiny scenes in the book), cause I felt there's a lot of potential in an overlooked formerly sickly child middle brother who goes through nearly the same trauma conga line as Victor does while never having any idea what's going on. And since back then I have just gotten back into Temeraire lore and in Frankenstein pretty much the only insight into Ernest's personality we have is that he wants to be a soldier (in the 1831 edition at least), I thought "hey, what if aerial corps instead"

I have long since abandoned that AU due to a lack of ideas and interest, but I've found old art of Agrippa recently and got pulled right back in. Didn't want to keep it a Frankenstein AU anymore so I changed the characters and made the thing into its own story. So basically Ernest is now Lucien, Victor is Saturnus, William is Noël, Alphonse and Caroline are Theodor and Eva, Elizabeth is Béa and Henry is Lysander. All other SoJ characters are original

Agrippa herself actually changed very little tbh, she only got more stocky and her design a little plane-ified

[ladyinbooks]

...please tell me more about The Terrible RP AU™️ 👀

Oh dear lovely Anon, you've done it now because I have been gnawing over The Terrible RP AU for at least... six months. So, apologies in advance, but you have handed me a wonderful excuse to ramble about this (and thank you for letting me! ❤️)

The Terrible RP AU. Aka: The Oedipus Complex AU. The first thing you need to know, is it's entirely @castleflower's fault, because she rec'd me a song (Only One King - Tommee Profitt) and my brain just leapt on it, and so the general fic premise is this: Aubrey Draxios raises a monster.

In short: for reasons I will not go into here, Lysander's parents die a lot sooner, and Aubrey is not in line for the throne. Instead, he's a political prisoner. He's assigned to Lysander as his tutor, and spends the next ten years carefully raising him for one specific purpose (i.e. Aubrey's revenge). They're not actually related, but Lysander occasionally calls him 'mimmir', and it's a whole horrible mess in the way only those two can manage.

I will also add that Lysander is very good at this revenge thing, and a lot of people meet a lot of creative ends. I mean, Lysander would do anything for Aubrey, so it's all for the greater good - right? He's only being a good ward/charge/student/whatever-the heck-he-is by helping out his beloved teacher mother lover.

(And to everyone who made it this far: I'm so sorry. I warned you it was a terrible RP AU! 😅)

[socialshakespeare]

Reading 6: Sunday, June 23

The sixth read-through - and only drink-through - of A Midsummer Night's Dream!

Drinking game rules here (they'll also be included in the Big Block o' Text before your reading).

(Most of you are double or triple cast, so double check which lines you have to read.) You can look up the lines of the characters here. The names listed below all go with the Folger Edition. 

Please submit your confirmation or any request to understudy here. If you’re in any doubt, please ask.

Times and time zones:

EDT (US): 4:00pm CDT (US): 3:00pm MDT (US): 2:00pm PDT (US):  1:00pm BST (UK): 9:00pm AEST (AU): 6:00am, Monday June 24

Leader: @mariposagal

Cast:

Oberon, Theseus: @astrangergivingthestrangewelcome Bottom: @l832 Helena, Snout, Mustardseed: @wildechild Robin Goodfellow (Puck), Philostrate: @thestorywitch Lysander, Snug, Cobweb: @sayyestothejess Hermia, Starveling, Mote: Gabby C Titania, Hippolyta: @actorinfluence Demetrius, Peaseblossom: @infinitelytheheartexpands Quince, Prologue, 2nd Fairy: @mariposagal Flute, Egeus, Fairy*: @rainincastamere Understudy: purplemuskrat, trashprinceofdenmark (DD)

Please submit your confirmation here - liking/reblogging this post does not count!

Read the Guidelines. To avoid the differences between editions that make for confusion and missed cues, please use the Folger edition of Midsummer during the read-through.

Be on time, be prepared, and make sure you know which lines to read. Good luck!

[fat-slobby-hunks]

AU'S:

Agent au:

My muses but they're all special agents working for a shady undercover organization. Their bodies are enhanced with special enhancements that give them miraculous agility at the cost of their metabolism and waist line.

Kinks: weight gain, force feeding, latex suits, stuckage, feeding machines and more

Organizations:

The org: nameless shadowy government agency. Employees spies and supplies them with the mysterious chemical [bhm] that allows them to perform inhuman feats

Hazbin Incorporated:

A third party organization that employees the not so silent but very deadly spy known as Angel Dust. Only seeks power and profit.

My muses but they're all royalty in world of pure candy.

The Phantom Thieves:

Ryuji, Akira and Yusuke a trio of gentlemen thieves by night and normal (kinda) citizens by day. Ryuji is a former athlete, Akira a streamer and Yusuke a plus sized model and artist.

Rocket Food Enterprises:

Run by Lysander and Giovanni

These two Rocket Food enterprises. It's considered the food of the future. They own gyms, diet pill and exercise equipment companies. They have multiple food brands all disguised as trying to curve obesity and spread awareness for health and fitness. Giovanni handles the business while Lysander does tech.

Candyland Au:

Kinks: princess tf, intelligence loss, inflation, force feeding, and more

Farm Au:

My muses split amongst various positions of a farm dedicated to raising and breeding hucows and other hybrids.

Kinks: animal/pig play, breeding, exhibitionism, chastity, milking, force feeding and more

Space pirate au:

My muses sailing the cosmos as space pirates

Cyberpunk au:

My muses in a general cyberpunk setting

Axiom Au:

My muses as passengers aboard the Axiom space ship from Wall-E

Fantasy Au:

My muses in a high fantasy setting

Western Au:

An anthro hazbin/helluva boss au featuring the characters In an old west setting

May add other series eventually

Key characters:

Stolas:

Species: owl

Bio: rich son of an oil baron with some shady ties to a criminal organization. Lives an runs a local library.

Sheriff Lucifer:

Species: hell stallion (fancy horse)

Bio: sheriff and big shot around town. Keeps things running smoothly. Has a passion for rubber ducks and apples

Husker:

Species: cat chimera

Bio: the happy saloon's disgruntled bar tender. Town drunk, gambler, and former outlaw all in one grumpy package.

Alastor:

Species: deer

Bio: owner of the hazbin saloon, local celebrity and radio star. Is secretly running various criminal enterprises beneath the floor of his humble saloon.

Zestial:

Species: spider

Bio: the town undertaker noones quite sure what he gets up to...

Angel Dust:

Species: spider

Bio: waiter and occasional dancer at the local saloon. Showed up in town one day in bad shape and never bothered to tell anyone why.

Asmodeus:

Species: avian demon (big bird man)

Bio: exotic thrill seeker, entrepreneur and owner of some of the most popular adult entertainment locals across the county. Run's a local club called Ozzie's. (100% not in love >:[ )

Fizzarolli:

Species: imp

Bio: a performer an comedian. Works at towns largest and only theater

Blitzo:

Species: imp

Bio:

Moxxie:

Species: imp

Bio:

Asgore Dreemurr:

Species: goat boss monster

Bio: the mayor of town and owner of the east garden in the county fair.

Location's

Pentagram Sheriff's department:

Hazbin Saloon: the local watering hole and definitely not a front for any illegal business.

[lohstandfound]

yeah, so here's the iwwv au idea. maybe i have a plot now. sort of. maybe a little less murderous than iwwv but anyway

under the cut

Gwendolyn sat perched precariously on her chair, her trope of eight students sitting scattered around the rehearsal room.

“I want to throw you all a curveball,” she said. “We’re doing A Midsummer Night’s Dream, again. You might be sick of it, but who could ever get sick of these words?”

Gwendolyn began to drawl on about her vision and how it came to her.

Rich had tuned out for the time being, thinking back to the midsummer performance of Midsummer. It happened between the semester, adding a curious third enigmatic performance to the usual routine.

He played Lysander.

He was not at all surprised to find his Helena was Brooke, his Hermia was Chloe, and his Demetrius was Jake.

Because of course it was.

And he could remember that evening vividly.

The sun was just beginning to set, golden light filtering through the trees. And it was a fight between the lovers.

Christine, ever predictably cast as Puck, wove through the four of them with a red silk scarf. She drew them together while trying to evade Jenna’s Queen Titania.

It was not the first time Rich had felt Jake’s lips on his. Short-lived undeniable lust as they punctuated their lines with a kiss, and another, and another. Until Puck’s influence was unwound, and Rich’s Lysander pushed Demetrius away.

Him and Jake never spoke about the kiss again.

It was never Jake kissing Rich. It was Demetrius being overwhelmed from Puck’s magic, giving into the temptation to feel Lysander’s lips on his own. An infatuation before disgust.

“I want to switch things up a little-” Gwendolyn was still on her monologue. She had this all planned out. They knew she would switch things up as soon as they got started, though.

Jake and Chloe shared a glance across the room.

They all knew the Bard’s words by heart, but A Midsummer Night’s Dream was etched into the hearts of Chloe and Jake. Into their soul.

They had done these scenes thousands of times, back before they were broken down by Dellecher’s obsessions.

They had been Titania and Oberon. Lysander and Hermia. Demetrius and Helena. Helena and Lysander. Hermia and Demetrius. They had been the Mechanicals. They had been fairies.

“Jakob and Richard!”

Everyone snapped to attention, acting like they had been listening the whole time. Gwendolyn smiled.

“Jakob will be our Hermia and Richard will be our Lysander. Brooklyn and Chloe? You will be our Helena and Demetrius.”

Things were already fragile.

Jake sunk deeper and deeper into every character he played. At least it would be easier to remove himself from the remains of Orsino and dig out Lysander’s bones again.

Chloe’s descent was always quick. But she was always able to remove most of herself from her characters. Not to mention the fight between her and Jake. The one she was acutely aware that everyone heard.

This should have been something they had seen coming. A risky casting choice already predetermined with no auditions. Maybe their midsummer matinee was a trial. A test. Could Gwendolyn make this work?

Of course, they all knew Gwendolyn would.

[thehaemanthus]

July Reading

I was on vacation, then I got sick, then Life, so reading this month is slower. With one exception.

I re-read books of the Alice Worth series and the Jacky Leon series, which I've talked about before. I think both are classified as urban fantasy. Alice Worth series is probably written better, but Jacky Leon holds a very special place in my heart.

Alice Worth is a MPI (Mage Private Investigator) who solves mysteries with her ghost sidekick. There's werewolves, vampires, witches, other mages, and all sorts of nasties. The series is more or less about Alice dealing with her deeply traumatic past to find love and family. The themes and lessons can hit you over the head at times with how obvious they are, but it's a fun series.

Jacky Leon is a loner werecat who gets pulled into Situations involving werewolves (enemies to the werecats), fae (technically allies but...), vampires (eh, just there for Jacky), and more. Like many a protagonist, she is also dealing with some trauma in her past and learning how to be a part of her new world and new family while also building a family of her own. I adore this series for interactions with a cute kid, Big Family Drama, and interesting politics.

Also re-read Dark Age (enjoyed it more this time, forgot about Ephraim and his broom and had to put the book down to laugh, the violence was softened because I knew what to expect but BOY) in preparation for...

Light Bringer

No spoilers

I mean. Holy shit. Pierce Brown had me in a stranglehold with the first three books of Red Rising. I was demoralized and honestly wondering, do I still love the series as much after Dark Age? After all of those awful things? Are these books just too heavy for me, has my brain been poisoned by fun romances? Light Bringer answered that question.

It's a tighter book, with less POV characters all over the place. Events are easier to follow, but that doesn't mean they are any less clever, jaw dropping, or exhilarating.

Both Iron Gold and Dark Age exhausted me while reading, like the characters themselves must have been exhausted. Light Bringer brought me back up. Hope, perseverance, love, and change are big in this book.

Brown mentioned something a while back about getting back to Darrow, remembering that he's the protagonist or something along those lines. You really feel that with Light Bringer. The other POVs are there and they serve a purpose, but I really felt the beauty of Darrow's story. The POVs also sort of...center Darrow? He feels more present throughout the book. Virginia's POV was kind of just...there? In a good way, I love all the content we get from her, but it wasn't the neatest part of the book I think. I didn't mind it while reading though.

Darrow goes on a genuine journey after such a huge loss in Dark Age. And when you reach the end, you sort of understand why the next book is called Red God. Darrow isn't a god or anything-- he doesn't feel or act that way. If anything, he has become humbled. But with the way he moves through the world and what he'll bring to his enemies and allies, it's easy to understand how the world could view him as a god.

And Lysander au Lune broke my heart but I already wrote about that

(minor spoilers)

Light Bringer was also really fucking funny. Interactions between Cassius and Darrow made me grin and cry. The play between Cassius, Darrow, and Sevro was so nostalgic, I felt that in my gut. Lyria is also hysterical and, as always, a perfect sweetheart. And her traveling companions know it too :)

[worldismyne]

The Longest Sleepover Ch9

Summary: The first year of school did not go as planned for Harv and he’s never felt more alone. That is, until a loud kid from the saga studies course decides they’re best friends now.

(Year 1 AU, Harv deals with homophobia, Finn is oblivious.)

Series: Warrior U

Pairing: HarvFinn

Rating: T

Ao3 Link

At intermission, most of the guests filed out of the auditorium and into the halls for drinks and a moment to stretch their legs. Finn pulled away from Harv and stretched as soon as the house lights were up. They agreed to join the masses in line to get their hands on some wine or something of the sort.

"Ah, poor Helena." Finn said as soon as they found a table to rest their drinks at. "She got everything she could possibly ask for, and what does she do? She runs away." Finn sighed. "The actress playing her is amazing though."

"You don't think her acting was a little over the top?" Harv asked.

"It's acting Harvey, not lying. If you're not going to put your all into it, why bother?" Finn froze, catching a glance from a familiar face across the room. He tilted his face away, but it was too late.

"Finn?" Shad invited himself to their table with Beatus trudging behind. "I didn't expect to see you here. I thought you were too busy to come out tonight." Finn seemed to stare off into space, searching his memory for any hint he'd had a conversation like that with them.

"I..." Finn looked at Harv, then back at the other two. "I just wanted to go with Harv. I forgot we were going to go together." Honestly, he just hadn't expected them to want to go with him after the fit he'd thrown at the start of break. Shad looked Harv up and down with a raised eyebrow. 

"It's pretty good though." Harv said, desperate to change the subject. He never knew how to talk to Finn's other bard friends. Especially when it was hard to tell when they were friends or not. 

"I know right," Shad grinned, "I mean how good is the gal they got to play Helena?" Finn perked up a bit.

"We were just-"

"Talk about drop dead gorgeous." Shad said. "I mean, she was pretty in Hamlet, but there's just something about the Athenian garb that really highlights her, well, you know." Shad grinned and looked to Finn for a response. Finn, blankly looked to Harv for an answer. He'd never seen the blond look so terrified before, like he had no idea what to say.

"She, uh, certainly has legs..." Harv agreed lamely. Finn's friends appeared mildly disappointed and started to talk quietly amongst themselves. It was clear they realized, albeit too late, that the question had made Finn uncomfortable. Instead of changing the subject, they'd just cut them out of the conversation entirely. Within a few minutes, Finn's expression was sullen, and he idly swirled his wine. Harv bit his lip and tried to think of something to distract Finn. "Speaking of costumes, Lysander's was pretty good."

"Yeah," Finn said with a smile, "the gold thread on the trim was a nice touch." Fashion was something he always had an opinion on. He certainly appreciated Harv bringing a new topic up, even if it was a lame excuse to cover why he hadn't paid much attention to the other actors. 

"He was quite handsome too." Shad said. He leaned forward on the table with a knowing twinkle in his eye. "I think he's new. I haven't seen him in any productions around here before."

"You haven't seen any productions around here before." Beatus rolled his eyes. "Sewer."

"Beatus, don't speak of the past." Shad shuddered.  

"Finn wants to bring this guy to practice, to watch." Beatus said. He made eye contact with Finn, though slightly obscured by his mop of red hair.

"Oh, well there's an idea." Shad said. Harv could only watch as Finn got pulled aside by Beatus while Shad held him verbally hostage. "You know, private shows were quite common back where I come from, but I don't imagine Finn would charge a friend for tickets to rehearsal." Shad's smile dropped a little, having failed to get the warrior to look in his direction. He leaned back from the table, taking in how Harv's borrowed clothes didn't fit quite right. "So, you're interested in music, are you?" Shad's tone was still pleasantly conversational, if not slightly amused.

"Not particularly." Harv said. He tilted his head to look above the passing crowd. He couldn't make out what the others were saying, but whatever Beatus had said made Finn look ill. 

"Oh... what are you interested in then?" Shad asked. 

"I-" Harv faltered. "I haven't had a lot of time for interests actually. Usually, I work all the time."

"No time like the present I suppose." Shad shrugged. "Well, Finn's a good one to have around if you're looking to try new things. He doesn't get out much, so everything's still quite novel to him." 

"I thought he did stuff like this all the time?" Harv frowned. He glanced over at Finn again who was trying his best not to raise his voice.

"Yeah, with his mother." Shad half laughed. "But if she's busy, he usually stays at home." The announcer gave a five-minute warning for everyone to return to their seats. "Well, it was nice to finally meet you properly." Beatus and Shad waved goodbye, returning to their own seats. Harv had rushed back to Finn's side, but Finn was oddly quiet, choosing not to say anything ill about his friends for once. When they got back in their seats, Finn kept his hands in his lap, even though he clearly looked uncomfortable. 

As the house lights dimmed, Harv tentatively brushed Finn's arm with the back of his hand. Finn turned his head slightly, but kept his eyes on the stage. Not wanting to put his hand in Finn's lap, he lightly pulled at the inside of Finn's arm. Finn glanced at him quickly then back at the stage. 

"What?" Finn whispered, only coming as close as the arm rest. 

"Hand?" Harv whispered back, meeting him in the middle. Finn hesitated; his lower lip clenched between his teeth.

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes." Harv said. Finn stiffly offered his hand, refusing to let it drift too far away from the armrest. Harv ran his thumb along the back of Finn's knuckles. It took almost an entire act for Finn to relax again. One storyline at a time, the fairies cleaned up the mess they had made. The four lovers were back with their destined partners, believing that night to be nothing more than a dream. As the play came to an end, the fairy character told the audience that maybe the audience experienced a dream as well. 

-

After the final curtain call, Finn rushed out into the lobby, eager to be the first to get an autograph from one of the actresses. He had disappeared into the crowd before Harv had even had a chance to stand up. In less of a hurry, Harv followed the flow of foot traffic into the main hall, staring up at the various trinkets that were for sale related to the show. Someone roughly pushed into his shoulder to get past him.

"Hey, watch it!" Harv said. The stranger paused and turned, bothering to dust off his own shoulder with disdain. Judging by the red and gold embroidery, he was probably a noble, not much older than Harv. For a second, it seemed the other boy might apologize,  but one look at his hair had the nobleman scowling again. 

"Just who do you think you are?" He sneered. It was a tricky question to answer at the moment. Sure, Harv had grown up a peasant, but now he was working in a position just below Finn. While not technically a noble, the witch's household was wealthy enough to demand certain respects, and Harv had no idea how much of that applied to himself. 

"It doesn't matter." Harv said. "I was just standing here, you could have asked me to move."

"In this kingdom there are only two families closer to the royal family than mine, and you clearly aren't from either of them." He straightened his jacket. "If I were you, I'd hold my tongue." The noble left without another word, though the people around them looked at Harv and snickered under their breath. He could hear Finn run to catch up with him and motioned for them to leave through a different exit.

"What a jerk." Harv shook his head.

"Harvey, that was Darren." Finn whispered, eager to get away from prying eyes just as fast. When Harv didn't seem to recognize the name, Finn continued. "Darren Radner, son of the king's lead knight."

"Then he should know how to avoid running into stationary objects," Harv said, "and manners." Finn grinned ear to ear, his spirits lighter than it had been since intermission. His laughter cut through the still night, as they waited for a cart to take them home. 

"He really is harmless, but it wouldn't hurt to be careful." Finn said. "Rumors in court spiral, and I had hoped to have a hand in crafting the narrative. It's still funny he didn't notice you."

"I know right, I mean look at this thing." Harv held his arms out, the diamonds sparkling almost comically. "I look more like one of the actors than a column." 

"That reminds me." Finn fished in his bag and pulled out one of the playbills to hand to Harv. "Lysander's autograph." 

"I thought you were getting Helena's." Harv said. He took the folded paper, unsure of what to do with it.

"Oh I got three of those." Finn grinned. "One for my book, one for the wall, one to sell once the show's run is over." Harv kept looking at the drying ink in awe. It was a simple gesture, but he appreciated it a great deal more than the extravagant gifts Finn liked to throw at him. "You're welcome." Finn teased. 

"Oh, yeah, thank you." Harv said. There was a strange giddiness that followed him as the carriage pulled up, an anticipation for something he couldn't quite place. Finn climbed in ahead of him, fidgeting with his nails as the door closed behind Harv. He was always like this when they sat across from each other, constantly moving or his attention all over the place. The only time he ever seemed to still was when he was latched onto Harv's side. With this much room in the carriage, there was no reason for them to be in each other's space.

"I'm a good friend, right?" Finn glanced up at Harv, combing through every movement the warrior made for a sign of rejection. 

"Yeah..." Harv said, almost like a question, but not quite. "Does this have anything to do with what that guy said to you?" Finn looked out the window for a moment, the blur of buildings and trees the last thing on his mind. 

"He doesn't know what he's talking about." Finn said. "Everyone wants to feel special sometimes, it's not cruel to do things for someone else." His face hardened. "Besides, you're nothing like Shad." Harv barely had enough in common with the flashy bard to carry one conversation. He couldn't, for the life of him, understand why anyone would compare the two. 

"Did you used to be close or something?" 

"I tried to be." Finn sighed. "But being too nice gave him certain expectations, so I stopped." The thunder of hooves outside was almost deafening. "That makes me manipulative I guess..." He shook his head. "They're wrong about a lot of things though. It's just, I'm usually outnumbered. You and I are perfectly happy with the way things are, it's not weird to think that won't change." Only this time, he didn't spare a glance in Harv's direction, keeping his eyes stubbornly on the road. He couldn't afford to hear anything to the contrary. Not now, not when he finally had a friend that wanted to hold his hand. 

He wasn't forcing Harv to do these things, no matter what Beatus thought. Staying with him was Harv's choice, that alone should have been proof enough. Without all the gifts, and extravagance, Harv would still want Finn hanging around him. Finn just wished he could believe that as much as wanted other people to believe that.

-

With the silly expensive suit back on a hanger where it belonged, Harv felt freer than he had before. There was something especially suffocating about being in an unfamiliar place without Finn's endless energy to distract him from it. At least now he was in clothes he'd picked out himself, even if he'd never worn clothes made specifically for him before. They'd always been hand-me-downs from his father.

He had stepped out onto the balcony of Finn's room, favoring the occasional breeze to the stillness of the castle while Finn bathed. The stars, in their familiar patterns, blanketed the night sky with light when the moon could not. In that moment, the cloudless sky seemed steadfast and unchanging, a piece of home Harv was allowed to take with him. 

He missed his family and in these quiet moments he wished he was home. Never before had he been away from his brothers for this long. His mother was probably overwhelmed with only Rhodri to rely on with the little ones. Running away hadn't strong-armed an apology from his father like he had initially hoped, rather it seemed his father had doubled down on insisting something about him needed to be fixed. If Harv was being completely honest with himself, he'd suspected as much the first night. As much as he missed his home, what he wanted to go back to simply wasn't there anymore.

The paned door behind him clicked open as Finn stepped out onto the balcony. Warmth from the summer sun was still baked into the air and stone, though the humidity kept it from being unbearable. The bard hesitated a few steps behind Harv before shifting to sit next to where his arms lean against the stone railing. 

"What are you doing out here?" Finn yawned. "Surely you must be a little tired."

"I didn't get up before sunrise like you did." 

"Oh." The forest at Finn's back rustled in waves as the wind passed through the leaves. "Did you not enjoy the opera?" Finn waited half a breath before continuing. "I thought it was fine enough, but that ending was- I simply hate when things are 'just a dream', what even is the point of watching something where the characters learn nothing." He shook his head. "I get it's supposed to be for laughs, but I still think Helena deserved better than Demetrius." Harv hung his head and laughed.

"You'd seriously rather talk to me than do anything else." Harv said. "At the very least, you could face the stars."

"I see them every night," Finn rolled his eyes, "I'd rather look at you than those dots." Harv looked up at him blankly, that same anticipation grabbing ahold of his chest.

"Why?"

"You're here." Finn shrugged.

"Why me though?" Harv gripped the edge of the stone, caught in the reflection of Finn's eyes. "If someone else had been sitting at the edge of the school, would you still be doing this?" Finn tilted his head then looked up at the underside of the roof with a hum.

"I don't think so." He'd seen the other warriors; goliath-like brutes who enjoyed punching things for fun. He probably would have ditched them halfway through town. "Besides, you're nicer than most people. I haven't met anyone that's made it past the garden gate without running away." Finn rubbed his eyes. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Sometimes you say things, and... I just... sometimes I think you like me more than I do." Harv said. "Especially now. I don't understand, after everything I've done, why you still want to be around me this much."

"Now I'm really confused, what have you done that's so bad?" 

"I abandoned my family." Harv said. "And I... I don't think... I'm not going back."

"Harvey, I don't think you're being that unreasonable." Finn said. "If they love you as much as you love them, they wouldn't want you to stay in a position that made you miserable. They certainly wouldn't want you punishing yourself for trying to make things better." He hopped down off the banister to stand next to Harv. "Do you hold a grudge against the moon for hiding in the shadows or being out of reach?"

"Well, no."

"And when you do get to see it, isn't it always best when it's full and bright?" 

"...I guess, but Finn that's a thing, not a person."

"Yes, well, if there were more people like us, I'd use a person." Finn said. "But we don't have that, we have the moon and your precious little stars. When we're old and grey, no one's going to talk about how you ran away from home. They're going to talk about how amazing we were when they had the chance to see us."

"You really think so?" Harv asked.

"Of course!" Finn nudged him a little. "One day, I'm getting out of this kingdom, and I'll be the most amazing bard there is. We'll travel all over the world, to places that never even heard of Cailburry, and everyone's going to love us. I uh, I don't know exactly what you'll want to do, but you'll be there." Finn's smile faded a little when he turned toward Harv. "Won't you?" 

For the third time that day, Harv felt a tightness in his chest, now sickeningly familiar. Hope, fluttering like butterflies, invading his lungs and bringing with it the dread that he'd been in this position before. Finn wore his heart on his sleeve, there were no hidden intentions behind wanting to keep Harv close. Sure, the fact Finn dragged Harv into his life to spite his old friends was unspoken, but it wasn't like he tried to hide it. No, the reason Harv kept puzzling and prodding was he hoped there was something deeper. He hoped, for once, his heart was getting pulled in a painless direction.

Which was absolutely silly since mere hours ago Finn had been quite insistent that he was happy with the way things were. There was no deeper yearning or even a passing interest in such things. He was standing before a dead end road, plainly advertised as such. Such notions shouldn't make his throat feel tight like this, not now.

"Harvey?"

"I can see it..." Harv said. Despite his stilted tone, Finn leaned against him and sighed. "Just... different rooms." Harv looked up at the stars, the vast display gradually getting covered by creeping clouds. "But I can see it." 

[sunbloomdew]

wooooooo writing wip game! thanks for tagging me my lovely <3

so like my wip titles are usually very to the point, unless i'm doing comfort writing. okay i lied, the comfort writing files also get titles like "comfort writing shit"

so it will just be "chapter 1" or "[fandom] prologue" and it will be in a folder for that specific fandom this fic is from. literally just that. my original stuff doesn't have any wips actually, it just stays in my head.

but. some of them do have actual names, so i can share them :]

two amphibian lovers

★ wip for a fanfic of my candy love with an mc x lysander parring. i have quite a lot of ideas about it and in general about rewriting the game's storyline (what storyline?) but i mostly imagine this story as a comic so there is very little actually written down in this wip. literally one sentence. still i like the title bc it's a song lyric from "frog" by cavetown :]

flowers for jinora

★ a legend of korra fic in the 5+1 format with different characters gifting jinora with flowers. each holds different meaning. i had this idea because i love jinora and i want her to have nice things :3

a day in the life of the blade & have mercy, oh great blood god

★ okay, this is incredibly funny to me. both of those are wips for what was meant to be technoblade-centric fanfics of an harry potter au created by one of my favourite mcyt artists (and internet artists in general now). i even asked them if i could write a fic with their headcanons for characters and received their permission. and then poof, all my interest in continuing vanished! also those two aren't even separate projects, these are literally the same file just renamed for some reason and i just checked now lol

i was enchanted to meet you

ayyyyyy now we're getting to the good stuff! olba oc (haru) x baxter ward fic about their first meeting at the soiree, featuring some canon alternations, haru being an accidentally charismatic fool and baxter being quite intrigued by the kid that appeared at a closed party out of nowhere. title very obviously from a taylor swift song "enchanted".

is it crazy to hope that we might get there soon?

olba project that takes place after baxter's romantic step 4, in the 5+1 format, that follows haru and baxter trying to rebuild their friendship after 5 years of no contact. title from cavetown song "a kind thing to do" :3

you're the one who told me my hair looked better black

fic about baxter's relationship with his parents. there is no further idea, i just like this line as a title for a baxter-centric fic. title from a song by the amazing devil "shower day".

will byers is the unwillingly appointed couples therapist of hawkings high

...yeah, figure this one out. basically a silly idea i had that will is like a relationships advice guru at hawkings high, despite never dating anyone because he is smart and has basic empathy lmao. so people come ask him for advice and he just gives incredibly generic statements like "be honest" and others are like "shit, this guy's a genius". and mike is pining in the background somewhere.

feather light touches and bear hugs

found family hobbit fic!! cause i love dwarves and i love hobbits :3

curse your golden soul, child

★ i almost forgot about this one but it's an olba pirate au :]

so these were all my interestingly named wips that are word files, but i took a look at my google docs to see what's up there (i used it very briefly, i have always preferred writing in word) and lo and behold they have names. here are some of them:

the way the waves reverberate (down my frame, across my vertebrae)

★ yet another harubax wip, i think it's meant to take place in step 4 or post step 4

her hair is a dark, strawberry blonde

★ ouran highschool host club haruhi x oc one shot. i had a short spike of inspiration for this fandom when i rewatched some anime episodes a while ago

cause my girl's made of peaches and soft grass in the moonlight

★ lumine x character(s) fic, i have no clue who but i feel comforted by this wip so it stays.

sorry, baby, i just don't know the words

★ incredibly self-indulgent aroace lumine with venti having a crush on her and them figuring out what type of relationship they should both have and like feelings, thoughts, labels all that. i thought it would be interesting to explore.

illuminated beasts' treasure

★ fic about the relationships between lumine and the adepti of liyue <3

your name is like a melody

★ soft ventilumi with them resting under venessa's tree and lumi complimenting venti <3

an elaborately designed privately owned spiral galaxy

★ a fic where lumine spiralssss because she has had enough. very sad, very angsty. i think i was in a bad mood when i started making it.

i've fallen in between the planets and the sun, into the orbit that surrounds you

★ a lumine appreciation fic with each chapter focusing on her relationship with a different character(s). i love found family dude

and that's it! i have a shit ton of other wips but like i said, they don't really have names, aside from titles for the entire projects. if you wanna know the rest of the songs i took the lyrics from to make titles you'll have to pry them from my cold hands (kidding, i was just too tired to list them all).

thanks to my sweetie pie for tagging me, smooch <33

imma tag @peachiseas @maybeanartist02 and @dreamtydraw! no need to do this ofc, but i am curious about your wip names :D

if you see this, do this! it's fun! if anything it is an excuse to ramble unapologetically into the void with a chance of like 4 people seeing this, like what i did here :3

toodles~

WIP game! thanks for the tag @jeonghoneyss <333

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I only have one wip but the document title is:

62 F HJB dance partners seungjin

I will tag @lumineescente if she wants to and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it can say I tagged them!! <3 (don't be shy really!!)

[miroana]

My Lightbringer predictions

SPOILER WARNING — many, many spoilers for Dark Age and the rest of the series too, of course. Read forward at your own discretion.

@pierce-brown feel free to let me know if I’m right.

Kalindora (the Love Knight) was poisoned by Atalantia

- I’m completely certain of this. When has Darrow EVER used poison on his blade? To put it simply, he doesn’t need it. Atalantia, on the other hand, wears an actual venomous snake around her neck at all times (and I do mean all). Plus, Darrow’s slingBlade was shattered during Lysander’s little jousting session immediately after Kalindora was allegedly mortally wounded. I don’t see Lysander slowly dying in agony from poisoned metal shards embedded in his arm.

- Atalantia has a lot to gain from Kalindora’s death — namely, Lysander au Lune’s name and allegiance, his renewed vigor for war, and the (frankly, disturbing) relationship she establishes with him. Plus, Kalindora was a competitor in terms of political sway in the society reminant.

Volga narration

- Her journey with the Ascomanni needs to be told by someone. Who better than by her?

- Also, following the… umm… “worthy” scene, we’re short a narrator. Eph watching his own heart be eaten was really dark, Pierce. It only makes sense for Volga to pick up his legacy.

Diomedes au Raa plays a significant role

- Diomedes represents Iron Golds of the Rim and is currently with the Society reminant, but we know he healed and freed Cassius (who appears to be working with the Republic). He walks a stiletto line between allegiances, and after the deaths of Romulus and Seraphina, he’s basically the heir to the Rim.

- He has a very strong brand of honor that fits well with the honor shown by Cassius. Diomedes saved Cassius before and led him back to the Republic, and I doubt their relationship has concluded with that.

- Diomedes is also very aware of how traitorous, and, well, messed up, the Core Golds of the Society are, and we already know that he’s hesitant to ally with them.

The Blues will rally around Darrow

- It was mentioned in Golden Son that there are blue training academies on Phobos, which is a moon of Mars. Darrow needs a fleet, desperately, and we all know he’s a master at shifting the paradigm. Also, the Republic still has Colloway, a hero to the blues, and the ace pilot has not yet performed his pièce de résistance.

- I very much doubt Colloway will survive the next book, unfortunately. I hope I’m wrong.

Pax vs Adrius 2.0

- Forshadowed by the Abomination hoping to have a “passage” by killing Pax. I feel confident, however, that Pax will own Adrius, although not kill him. I mean, half of the kid’s DNA is Reaper’s and half is Mustang’s. Come on now.

- Bonus points if Pax kills Lilath too. please

Lykos is destroyed

- By this point, everyone and their mother knows about Darrow’s big, wonderful, bleeding heart, and Society Golds are great at cutting straight for vital organs. Especially if Mars is the final planet protected by the Republic — I just can’t see Lykos township surviving Lightbringer if multiple armies siege the planet.

Lyria infiltrates the Jackal’s dominions on Luna or Tokyo

- As the new Figment, her abilities and their source are incredibly unclear. I think she would do well in a mission like this, and along the way, maybe she can somehow free Sevro and we can find out what exactly the Parasite is. Hopefully, Victra is part of this too.

Quicksilver’s allegiances have changed

- I don’t trust this man one bit. Why was he so comfortable when Virginia blew off the Silver voting bloc just before the Day of Red Doves? Where did the Rim get those new ships that travel so much faster than those of the Core? Honestly, the trillionaire may be funding the Society too. War profiteering is the name of the game for Quicksilver, and I wouldn’t be surprised if his original backing of the Sons of Ares and the Rising was more of a successful investment than a moral cause.

Virginia and Lysander speak

- Somehow, somewhere.

- Lysander most definitely blames Virginia for the deaths of his grandmother, Octavia, as well as Aja, and this must be addressed. Lysander once trusted her, when he was a child, and understands just how brilliant she is, so hearing her perspective could change everything for him.

- I think Virginia’s influence, combined with the revelation about Kalindora’s death at the hands of Atalantia, will be a step in turning Lysander to the side of the Rising. Lysander is incredibly intelligent and empathetic, so I don’t think he is entirely lost yet, despite his horrifying plunge into space racism and rather unfortunate spearing of Darrow. It will be a slow and perilous change, spread over the next two books, but I believe the last Lune will figure out where the light is eventually.

I look forward to finding out what I got right when Lightbringer drops this July!

Hic sunt leones.