#presque vu once more

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

re: The ASL post

Surely I can't be the only one questioning the premise that if you shut down in one language, you shut down in all of them, equally?

Selective mutism is a whole Thing that exists. There's speech loss where you can somehow take a business call, but can't otherwise converse or ask for help or articulate anything outside of that specific compartmentalized embodiment. There's speech loss where echolalia is still possible. There's dissociation and compartmentalization and codeswitching which allow people to superficially bypass their own brain's shutdowns to produce the results they need.

And then there's the fact that different languages can mean different brainspaces! Thinking in and expressing yourself in language A versus language B can be sooo so so so so different in terms of emotional processing, sensory experience, gender realization, logic formation, etc, and that's even without getting into the root cultural differences. You can be groggy and overstimulated and find solace in a languagespace where you have more resilience, and it does not have to be a regression to a native tongue!

And that's staying within the same language modality! Once you change that, it's extremely possible that triggering conditions like fatigue/exhaustion/overstimulation can be relieved. How many writers have been utter wrecks in crisis while churning out beautifully written works in their non-native language? If a Deaf person has speech loss but can write in legible English during the event, is that marked as physically impossible with the same level of scrutiny?

Meanwhile, my experience with using ASL as someone who was already multilingual (including natively multilingual) before that is that the non-manual markers of the language are so embodied and so different from my natural performance state that of course it requires a different kind of brainspace, it's practically a form of masking except that it relieves the pressure of the other masking (tone, volume, pace, vocabulary, presque vu, cluttering, pitch, and then all those things but with stealth trans gender anxiety).

Also when someone is in crisis, why is it necessary for them to communicate with perfect grammar? What hill even is this?

(In addition, I resent the idea that it's impossible to have intuitive fluency in a language just because you didn't start it as a baby. And the idea that struggling with one parameter of a language will render native users utterly incapable of comprehending you... which is to not even touch the ways in which parameter prescriptivism hurts tactile sign users--*immediately falls through a trap door triggered by the anti-intersectionality police*)

As always, friendo, you speak mine own thoughts to the core, lol

I didn't really feel like getting into every concern I had with the way that post was presenting its conclusions, because I had already written several paragraphs and that felt.....unhelpful at best.

But yeah, I mean. I am not aware of ANY psychological research whatsoever that supports the assumptions they were making about speech/communication loss as an experience, about the way the brain interacts with language, and about the role of learning new languages. It sounded like a LOT of misunderstood moral/ethical arguments being made after hearing someone talk about a small piece of the complexity of Deaf/HoH language/communication sharing with other communities, that they didn't fully know how to apply because they don't actually know anything about the neuroscience of the situation.

Which like. Fine I guess. But that was sort of why I pushed back. I really appreciated the point that sign isn't AAC! I would really like to see that acknowledged more in the way speech/communication disorder folks talk about our interactions with it! And it worried me that the point didn't ACTUALLY seem to be "these things are different so here's the strengths and challenges of each/the outcomes one may hope for with each, so you can better understand how to utilize them" but rather "If you can't be confident that you have fully unlearned your prejudices and assumptions here, you're actually harming Deaf/HoH people by trying to learn our language." That doesn't make sense to me. And when the response was to completely misrepresent my words and ignore my explicitly coming from an intracommunal perspective while literally refusing to actually interact with what was said? That made me feel really uneasy about where that arguement actually was coming from.

One of the things I didn't talk about in the post is that my languages actually get employed in a clear and consistent order as my cognitive functioning decomps. I am "functional" if I can speak and/or write in English. I am "impaired" If I cannot use English, but CAN use Spanish. And I am fully "adrift" if all I can do is sign/use assistive gestures. Literally, what language I am using to communicate is almost always in indicator of my state of mind, to the point that long before I had language for any of this, I warned Wifey ahead of time when we first started dating that I might lapse into Spanish under certain circumstances, and they would need to tell me if they didn't understand because I prolly wouldn't notice. Despite being my "first language" English is genuinely the hardest for me to interact with. This remains true as I learn more languages (German is easier than English too, as is Italian, and even Russian.) English is - by literally every measure - a hot mess of a language. And it is actually really fucking common for even native speakers to find other languages more intuitive.

Why would that suddenly stop being true because your cognition is failing? Yeah, you won't have **the same access** bit you were never going to anyway???? And "more access than zero" is literally invaluable????

I dunno. I know it's poor behavior to get frustrated at people speaking with authority while repeating objective untruths in something I have actual expertise in, but there IS kinda a certain point when I have to wonder why people immediately internalize the stuff they see on tumblr without actually exploring the work of people who pioneered the research someone is attempting to convey? Why are yall happy NEVER interacting with a primary source?

And literally? Don't tell me "well we don't have any intracommunal research!!! Because that hasn't been true in any significant field of study for a decade now. Limited? Sure. Explorations of genuine intracommunal priorities in their infancy? Absolutely. But at this point if we are 30yrs into "nothing for us without us" without being able to recognize that intracommunal knowledge generation has ALWAYS happened, and the problem was not an absence but an obfuscation?

We probably have bigger problems at that point honestly.

[rageprufrock]

Hi Pru!!! Ik you have been back on tumblr for a little but I just found out (bc I havent been here) so in a fit of nostalgia I went through your ask/fandom tags and read old fic meme responses and honestly it really struck me that I am now at the age of when you were writing many of my favorite fics (presque vu, drastically redefining protocol, etc etc your inception, haikyuu, and merlin fic lives in my heart) amd tbh it came as a shock. I think because im probably 15 years or so younger, I've always just seen those fics and ur process behind them as so Adult and one day I will also be an Adult just like that.

Spoilers, I am not quite the Adult I envisioned myself becoming while I had been reading your fics at 13, 14, 15 etc (worringly young) but I still hold a lot of it close to my chest and I think at least I am on the right track. Anyways tldr I love your fic, thanks for writing them, from both me of past and present.

I've read this ask over and over again, and I want you to know that I found it so moving, Anon, that I've been sitting with it for ages wondering how to respond other than to say: I can't think of anything more lovely or flattering than to know that in some way, the stories I wrote have been a part of your experiences growing up. These stories felt, to me, like part of my experiences growing up, too, and that we share that in some cosmic way always makes the world feel smaller and friendlier, and my own missteps and embarrassments less searing. We're all just kind of fumbling along together.

I think if you ask anyone, none of us are the adult that we anticipated being when we were young and reading about people older than us, who we had assumed had their shit together. I like to think that we're better than those imagined versions of ourselves, wiser and more patient, kinder from going through our own difficult periods, and more forgiving of people who we see headed down the same confusing roads toward getting older that we once took. It's why I think I find myself revisiting the theme of internal transformation so much: there's something so big and bright and difficult to explain about how the shape and size of the thing inside you changes over the years, how without any trigger mechanism or intention, you might wake up one day and realize you're an entirely different, marvelous surprise even to yourself.

Thank you, from the me of both past and present, for reading. <3

[ravenoclock]

@labyrinthhofmymind

IM BACCKKK

Spoilers for a fic called presque vu by bizzarestars

TYSM FOR UR RESPONSE AAAA UR THE FIRST PERSOM WHO’S LISTENED TO MY RANTS AND AVGUALLY LIKES THWM SO TYSM UR THE BEST <33

CHAPTER ELEVEN MFS

Shit’s getting deep yall I grabbed the tissues just in case.

*clears throat* okay so starting off sad with Lily’s parents dying right off the bat. Holy fuck. And the fact that she didn’t cry until after the funeral?? MY GIRL DJSKSKKSKA. I CANT RN. and Sirius being like ‘I wanna fuck Remus’ and Harry being like ‘nuh-uh’ and crying LMAO. Hilarious.

He lives anyway, in the end. They both do. Rats can survive in even the most dire of conditions, and all dogs were wild once. They both make it through, just not together. Rats and dogs rarely get along.

Foreshadowing comes in many forms.

Fuck. I can’t today. PETER PETER PETER. JUST ARGHH. WHY WHY WHY.

"No," Sirius croaks. "I can't ever imagine grieving you."

I’m on my way to go dig a grave for myself who’s with me? Cuz why? Would? You? Do? That? To? Me? Why? What? What the fuck??? I’ve spent so long deluding myself into believing canon isn’t real and that the marauders grew old and grey and happy together and then I read fics like these because I think im strong enough but in reality I just created a dream I can shatter (catch my reference? No? Yes?) but id rather the delusion shatter than my sanity but at this point idk. BEAR WITH ME. I’ll get therapy dw.

Sirius is right there with him, as that saying goes. She's growing, too, one day at a time even as she digs her heels in for every inch. She's just as imprisoned as him, in her own way. A prison of her own body, her blood, her name. She's been a prisoner her whole life.

Dead. Why is this so amazing??? Like I feel it in the very depths of my soul I swear.

JAMES WANTED CHILDREN. PLURAL. WHAT THE ACTUAL- I CANT. HARRY WAS GOING TO HAVE SIBLINGS. I FEEL NAUSEATED. IM GONNA THROW UP EVERYTJING INSIDE OF ME I SWEAR.

(This, too, is a prison. You feel that, don't you, deep down inside? One day soon, you'll be free from it, only for it to be replaced by another.)

The foreshadowing is crazy. Insane. Every other word for practically amazingly heart wrenchingly horrible.

Lily was pregnant. Lily was pregnant Lily was pregnant Lily was pregnant she had a baby she had a baby there was a baby THERE WAS ANOTHER BABY COMING THERE WAS ANOTHER FUCKING BABY COMING AND THEY FUCKING DIED AND THE BABY NEVER GOT TO LIVE THEY HAD ANOTHER BABY. HARRY WAS GOING TO HAVE A SIBLING. LILY WAS FUCKING PREFNANT. OH LORD IM GOING TO CRY A WHOLE FUCKING LOT NOW.

What if Halloween just doesn’t exist. They’ll live happily ever after right? Right? RIGHT????????

For Peter, this is, as the saying goes, his final straw. The camel's back is not only broken, it's been cleaved in half, and the fear spills out over the sides like blood, leading only to the promise of more. He's been straddling the line between both sides for nearly a year now, giving only bits and pieces of information to the death eaters just to make sure they won't kill him in duels, never enough for the Order to even suspect a proper spy at all, but now he knows which side is losing for sure, after this side has suffered so much loss, so it's time he throws his lot in where he can stop being afraid. He wants to survive like a rat, and gets his wish.

Fucking coward. I hope he dies a painful dead. Oh wait, he does. (I actually don’t remember. Does he? Idk if he dies at all ngl.)

Out of everyone, Marlene's are the only dreams that come true.

God fucking damn. Can I cry now? Oh my god. Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god. Marlene ml. You will be missed.

I rly can’t. The first death out of the main group came and went. It doesn’t feel as heart wrenching as it does when I read Marlene’s death in The Hand That Feeds cuz it wasn’t in her perspective, and Sirius is awfully and unhealthily detached and it’s just so so fucking sad I can’t even.

She died. I cried.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Strapping in because Zar said so.

The fact that people think the spy is Sirius. Because of his last name. A name she can’t control. A name that came from a reputation they tried so hard to remove themselves from only for others to only see it. The name ‘Black’ and what it’s associated with. I hope they all fuck themselves.

Sirius shouldn't even know about it, nor should Remus, or Peter, or Augusta—but of course, they all find out because Frank and Alice trust the latter, while James and Lily trust the former three. One couple here has made a mistake. Hint: it's not the one with parents.

OHHHHH MY GOD.

"Sirius isn't a fucking toy," James snaps.

Remus arches an eyebrow. "Then why do you treat him like one?"

Oh my lord. Oh my fucking lord.

It's funny. When the doubt creeps in, Remus will think about the question Sirius asked, and Sirius will think about the answer Remus gave, but neither will think about how Peter said nothing at all.

So…I don’t know what to say anymore. I can’t say anything. It’s so awful.

Mary ran. Dorcas died. Peter should die.

The emmary makes me want to die, too. WHY DIDNT EMMELINE GO WITH HER. MARY OBLIVIATED HERSELF TRYING TO PROTECT HETSELF.

Whoever the spy is, Sirius thinks that day, they're smart, and they're brutal, and they're not doing this just out of fear. There's more to it than just that, more that Sirius can recognize in the mirror; a deep, dark pit that the worst crawls out of, unleashed on those who don't think it exists there. This is someone who may not have always been a monster, but knows how to become one, and maybe believes that's the only option they have. This is someone, despite how hard it is to fathom and how hard it is to accept, that Sirius knows.

Irony never misses a chance to take center-stage in the tragic play of their lives. Believe it or not, they're still in act one. They're on their way to act two, though, one cut from the cast of characters at a time.

Peter doesn’t deserve to cry for deaths he fucking caused. He doesn’t deserve Sirius comforting him. He doesn’t deserve any mercy at all.

Very close now, with Dorcas out. Take a wild guess at who's next.

Emmeline. Lily and James. Those are my guesses.

Sirius starting to doubt Remus kills me.

Sirius thinking Remus is Dumbledore’s spy…im pretty sure he wasn’t? Was he? Maybe he was but I only remember Peter being both. Like Peter was the double agent before turning to work for baldy voldy.

The fact that Sirius thinks it’s Remus. The fact that none of them suspect Peter not even once.

Them trying to convince their best friends that the other is the spy. Why. Peter wasn’t mentioned once. I actually want to puke.

Also Dorcas. Just. Dorcas :( And then Mary running tf away cuz she’s done. I wanna die. Wolfstar fighting and falling in love during A WAR. MY LOVES. THEY FONT DESERVE IT.

I read like chapters 13-21 in a haze. Here’s my thoughts (not in any order whatsoever):

- Azkaban is so shitty to the extent that there’s no words to describe how fucked it is and how dehumanizing it makes its prisoners feel, innocent or not

- The entire chapter where Sirius was described without any pronouns was GENIUS and so brilliant I loved it

- Sirius passing time as Padfoot but forgetting a lot because of Padfoot and Azkaban :(

- Sirius using the dementors as a way of sh :(

- Sirius not remembering who his first kiss was (JAMES) actually KILLED ME

- OLDER WOLFSTAR REUNION WHOOP WHOOP I LOVE THEM

- THE HURT/COMFORT SCENE <333333

- THEYRE SO IN LOVE THAT I MIGHT STOP BREATHING

- THE BUGS oh the FUCKING bugs thing destroys me. i cried, threw up, did the whole thing. cuz GOD I WANT SOMEONE TO UNDERSTAND ME LIKE THAT HOLY SHIT. I LOVE THEM.

- Sirius and Crookshanks are cool asf

- DUMBKEDORE YOU MAD MAN WHY DO I LIKE YOU

- KINGSLEY

- Remus being jealous of Kingsley low key had me giggling and twirling my hair cuz Sirius is so oblivious like ‘oh he’s funny, and we’re mates’ AGAHSHGAA

- also Remus being like ‘we’re just friends’ you and who buddy? Ain’t no one buying that. And Sirius glaring holes into his head is so AHAHAHAHH. And then Sirius holding it against him for the next few chapters is actually hilarious. He’s so petty. I love them.

- Sirius: ‘hello buddy, best mate, my best of all pals’

Remus: ‘I sense I’ve made a mistake somewhere’

ZAR WRUTING THAT IS SO FUNNY. I think i might’ve cried from laughter.

- REMUS TELLS SIRIUS EVERYTHING. WOLFSTAR IS COMMUNICATING. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. I LOVE IT.

- Sirius being upset that she’s not allowed to be there on Remus’ full moons is so cute, and then Remus letting her take care of him after, always, is so so adorable.

- MOLLY. THE WEASLEY TWINS. HERMIONE. HARRYYY MY DARLING.

- WE MET THE GOLDEN ERA KIDDSSSSSS

- also the doubt that maybe Peter wasn’t the spy and he had a reasonable explanation for it is so heartbreaking I actually wanted to puke. I think i did puke.

- PROFESSOR LUPIN. ENDEARING. FOND. SIRIUS COMBUSTING EVERYTIME REMUS FLIRTS WITH HIM. PERFECTION.

- Sirius singing in Azkaban :((

- the cross words. WAXING MOON.

THEY WERE MADE FLR EACHOTHER YOUR HONOR.

Thx for coming to my Ted Talk <3.

Btw I’m so sorry i haven’t been on tumblr recently. Been a bit busy.

[tunemyart]

I was tagged by @wistfulwatcher in 20 Questions for Fic Writers - thank you!! <33

How many works do you have on AO3?

47

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

408,521

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Actively, right now? It's Cabenson all the time. I have a crossover with Elementary in the works, if it counts? Historically: Xena: Warrior Princess, Olivia (1951), Star Trek(s touching on Voyager, Picard, and Discovery), Wicked, Once Upon a Time, Rizzoli & Isles. Waaaaay back in the day historically: A TON of Wicked, smattering of The X-Files, Battlestar: Galactica, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, Stargates SG-1 and Atlantis, Doctor Who, Bones.

Oh. Also Star Wars EU as a wee child.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Presque Vu (R&I)

all the sacred boundaries we've overgrown (OUAT)

The Nature of Work Wives (R&I)

the undoing and the reweaving (XWP)

The Thing Called Future (OUAT)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yeah!! Posting fic is all about the positive human interaction for me! Obviously comments are life, we all know this; but also I have irl friendships that started in the comments of my fic because I responded. You never know who you're going to meet or in what capacity.

tl;dr if someone feels compelled enough by something that came directly out of my brain and my soul to engage tangibly with it - you bet I'm going to respond, barring irl complications.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmmmm so I have been accused of being something of an angst queen, but I also like a happy ending after the angst. I think the angstiest contenders are more ambiguous, and are probably:

no one else can break my heart like you (Wicked) - because we all know what's coming in Act II

Chrysopylae (Voyager/Picard) - because I really don't think many things about Seven and Janeway's relationship can ever truly be resolved

do borg dream of individuality? (Voyager) - see above, where Janeway is starting to intuit this

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think The Thing Called Future (OUAT) is a pretty classic happy ending! So is all the sacred boundaries we've overgrown (OUAT). Both are in the right fandom for it!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I've been very fortunate to get very nice, genuine folks and exactly one person I'm choosing to believe was having a bad day and taking it out on me.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Y-yes? I guess it depends on your definition of smut. There's sex for sure, but the focus is more on the emotions while it's happening than on graphic descriptions of what's happening or how it feels. Most of the time it's baked into the narrative and telling the story. I think I've really only written one or two PWP, and they're in XWP fandom.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Not really! As mentioned I've got the SVU/Elementary crossover in the works, but for the reason that time and location align so incredibly perfectly. I also had a XWP/Wonder Woman crossover I wrote on a prompt (an amazon matter) and that was a lot of fun, but probably also not crazy.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not word for word or reposted.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but it would be cool!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but @90stvqueen and I have talked about cowriting prompts before!

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Oof. I feel like I should say Xena/Gabrielle here, but Gelphie is my OG (shoutout gateway lesbians!)

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

hahahahaha pass

16. What are your writing strengths?

This is a very reflective question! I guess I'd say emotional reflection + revision/distillation. Give me an inch I'll write you a mile, and then realize I need to revise it to something closer the inch you'll actually read or the conversation the characters would actually have.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Action, movement, and description of setting. Wait, no, are they sitting/standing in some nebulous, blurry-edged space having a conversation again???? nooooooooooooooooooooo

I'm working on it, and I'm proud of what my efforts are yielding, but also: ughh

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

It's a nice idea, but imo it distracts so hard from the flow of reading. One or two words where the reader can figure it out in context, or where the reader probably knows what it means, is great! Adds color and flavor! Entire lines that require footnotes… personally, I'm never going to look those up.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Star Wars EU! Luke Skywalker/Mara Jade OTP!

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

I don't know if/when my answer is going to change from The Wide Orbit (SVU) - genuinely I think it's the best thing I've ever written. A lot of work and revision went into it and I think the final product shows it. It is precisely the story I wanted to tell in precisely the way I wanted to tell it. I just reread it and am still so delighted with it.

tagging in a no-pressure way: @chthonic-cassandra @chainofclovers @90stvqueen @cargopantsprentiss @butchcraftmacncheese @neornithes @dadrielle

[vivalamusaine]

Presque vu, Once More

(Alternative) Barricade day fic: Enjoltaire slow burn, Reincarnation AU

Chapter 7/8: Grand R and Apollo

Fic Summary:  Enjolras was dead, and there was no denying this. The body he was occupying was not the one he’d grown accustomed to for 26 years, it had not walked the streets of Paris, clasped the hand that sought it in it’s last moments, nor was it riddled with 8 bullet holes.

Yet here he was, in a new decade, with a new name, and a new cause, only one other at his side remembered who he used to be. It was deaths cruel curse that the person chosen to share his fate of remembering the life he lost happened to be Grantaire.

Chapter Summary:  Enjolras unearths the memories of the lifetime he forgot.

Read Chapter 7 on Ao3

Start from the Beginning

[pas-de-la-kaamelott]

parce que je n’ai toujours rien à foutre en ces périodes estivales, un p’tit liveblog de ma lecture de Les Chevaliers du roi Arthur par Odile Weulersse (que j’ai chopé dans une braderie) :

- merlin qui demande à la forêt de s’écarter pour qu’il puisse rejoindre viviane : OUT OF MY WAY I GOTTA BE A HOE

la forêt : *slutshames him*

- « deux tresses couleur du temps » comme dans Peau d’Âne ?

- « deux yeux gris dominateurs » odile i-

- uther, qui attend merlin pour une entrevue secrète et qui croit l’apercevoir au loin : OH MERLIN MA COUILLE C’EST TOI ?

merlin : TA GUEULE, UTHER

- c’est antor qui choisit le nom du gamin. ils vivent en bretagne (française). we could have had the once and future king titouan

- c’est quel niveau d’irrespect pour que même ton père dise au premier venu que c’est parce que t’as pas été bien allaité que t’es devenu un connard alors que c’est littéralement un gosse de trois ans qui veut pas prêter son jouet à son frère réveillez-vous ceci est une expérience universelle

- m’dame viviane ça s’appelle du kidnapping ça

- arthur qui casually steals excalibur en toute confiance

- mec t’as 16 ans tu parles pas comme ça même à ton époque

- j’aime toujours pas lancelot

- WOH TU BAISSES D’UN TON ARTHUR

- putain leodagan il a pris cher

- merlin ça sert à rien de copier gandalf à la bataille de minas tirith

- gauvain. t’es censé être beaucoup plus jeune que lui. pourquoi t’es là. arthur a 16 ans. un peu de consistance temporelle, pitié

- « les lèvres bien rouges et les yeux mauves de lancelot » wtf

- arthur a vu lancelot pendant 0.04 secondes il le trouve beau

- « gauvain, "le soleil de la chevalerie" » exactement odile c’est un petit rayon de soleil

- putain mais gauvain not you too gay for lancelot

- il le vit assez bien qu’on lui annonce qu’il est adopté, lancelot

- « curieuse de voir ce nouvel adolescent » vous avez le même âge, MERDE

- et allez ça se tourne déjà autour

- « lancelot reçue la colée comme une caresse » ça va l’homosexualité ? vous le vivez bien ?

- quand on y pense, keu peut-être qu’il voulait sincèrement bien faire en essayant de sauver la reine

- lancelot est tellement unhinged qu’il allait sauter par la fenêtre du cinquième étage juste pour aller plus vite (gauvain a du le retenir par les aisselles sinon il y allait vraiment ce con)

- oh keu, blessé physiquement et dans son orgueil. am i becoming a keu apologist

- on a dû faire un massage cardiaque à gauvain tout va parfaitement bien

- yvain c’est quand même le seul mec qui arrive à gérer la meuf du gars qu’il vient de tuer

- more unhinged than lancelot ? perceval

- imagine t’es le chevalier vermeil. invaincu depuis je sais pas combien d’années. tu challenges arthur au combat et t’as assez de street cred pour qu’on se fasse du souci pour le roi. arrive un gamin de max 17 ans sur un cheval à moitié crevé (qui dix minutes plus tôt demandait à arthur de le faire chevalier en deux temps trois mouvements il est même pas descendu de son canasson). il t’ordonne d’enlever ton armure. tu te marres tu lui dis bah non connard ptdr t ki. il te charge. il te bute. tu n’as rien vu venir.

- yolet : perceval a buté l’autre chevalier que personne arrivait à tuer

arthur et toute sa cour :

- yvain yvain yvain…..toujours aussi con, fallait pas tromper ta meuf mon coco

- wow ce arthur a presque autant d’issues que celui de kaamelott

- c’est canon que les chevaliers s’emmerdent dès que c’est un peu calme question quêtes/batailles et c’est très drôle

- ok full on keu apologist arrêtez de soupirer dès qu’il propose son aide pour défendre la reine c’est pas parce qu’il y arrive pas qu’il y’a pas de bonnes intentions derrière

- guinas le cousin caché de venec car :

✅ multiple jobs

✅ avec un peu d’argent on le convainc de tout

✅ chaotic

❌ murder is okay

- keu créateur du syndicat pour défendre tous les autres chevaliers qui sont pas lancelot ou gauvain 2k22

- dire que le graal lui est passé sous le nez, perceval

- « la table ronde suivit arthur » mais genre vraiment ? toute la table qui roule sur le côté pendant tout le trajet ?

- attendez arrêtez d’exagérer tous keu se fait littéralement latter la gueule par perceval on arrête pas de lui dire de la fermer, qu’il est méchant alors qu’il est juste sarcastic as fuck, et quand il en a marre et commence à être carrément amer on l’engueule aussi ? justice pour keu

- odile : a new bombshell enters the villa

mordred : *struts in*

- j’adore que guenièvre sente immédiatement les bad vibes de ce mec

- mais laissez le tranquille ce pauvre cerf blanc

- mordred c’est ta TANTE. ARRÊTE.

- dites toujours bonjour aux madames les nenfants, vous savez jamais si elles vont vous jeter une malédiction si vous êtes pas polis

- omg la fête du printemps !!!! bohort et leo where are you

- GAUVAIN….……………

- girlies we are not ready for la chute de logres et de son roi c’est moi qui vous le dit

[suituuup]

On this first day of 2021, I wanted to round up my favorite fics/art works of 2020 in a masterlist! I wish I had the time to read every single fic out there but unfortunately there are only so many days in a year. There are obviously many more amazing creators than the ones mentioned here! Thank you to every single one, for all that you bring to this fandom!

favorite holiday fic

Christmas Eve with the Bellas

by @snowflake19-things​

Beca is roped into spending Christmas Eve with a redhead she doesn't know, and her group of friends, whom she also doesn't know. Sounds like a recipe for disaster. It turns out, however, they're pretty okay. Weird, but okay. 

favorite fluff fic

it's 3 AM (I must be lonely)   

by @becasbelt

It really is getting late, and Beca knows that she really should be getting to bed, but Chloe really is cute and her essay isn’t done anyways.

Or, a gradual love story told over math problems and note cards.

a fun one

Dammit, Zsa Zsa!

by @scylla-ramshorn

Sheila’s naughty poodle sneaks something valuable from Beca’s suitcase during an important family affair. Chaos ensues.

my favorite series

Walk Along Side of Me by boatstoesta 

Teacher AU - Beca Mitchell starts her teaching career at a new school in the middle of a semester. There's one teacher that rubs her the wrong way- Miss Chloe Beale.

a fic i’m excited about

I have several!

'cause you weren't mine to lose   

by @chloebeale

Back in college, Beca was so in love with Chloe Beale. She never told her, though. She never told anyone. So, when Chloe shows up, years later, on Beca’s doorstep, drunk out of her mind after a bad breakup, Beca is not going to turn her away. She does the decent thing and invites her in to get sobered up…

The next morning, she realizes she maybe should’ve just heard her out last night.

Broken Clocks by @anastasia-93-daybidaylove

Beca lives in LA; she's a music producer, about to release her first solo album, succesful and accomplished. The life she'd always wanted. Chloe lives back where they used to; she has a completely different life than Beca's, quiet and peaceful. The life she'd always wanted. It's been a long time since the were Beca and Chloe; whatever that means anymore. But life has decided to bring them together once more. How much will it succeed?

With Storm and Fury by @scylla-ramshorn

In an alternate America where witches ended their persecution by cutting a deal with the U.S. government to fight for their country, 19-year-old Fixer witch Beca Mitchell reports to Fort Salem for basic training in magical combat.

Presque Vu by thetoneofsurprise

Suffering from severe career burnout, Beca’s Mom convinces her to journey back home to Portland for some overdue recovery time. Reluctant but obliging, Beca stays home for the holidays. But going back to where you grew up means going back to all the things you left behind, no matter how much things have changed… or how much might have been forgotten.

other faves in no particular category:

just a legacy to protect by @chlobeales

darling, so it goes (some things are meant to be) by boatstoesta

Cheeseheads by @notsoawesomenerd

your heart is glowing (and i’m crashing into you) by @snowonebutyou

everyone loves a brat by @ aca_bhlo_me

You're My Favorite by sunshine_and_raincloud

The Photographer and the Bridesmaid by @anotherbechloeshipper  

Chick Magnet by @green-eyed-weirdo  

Counting Cards by @redlance

Love at First Flight  by @ear-monstrosities

life's too short to even care at all  by @snowonebutyou

resisting my own defense by @chloebeale

as soon as she leaves I say I love you (under my breath)  by @becasbelt

how far do i have to go? (to get to you) by @bechloehuh

To Get Over You  by @ aca_bechloe47

Somewhere Beyond by @snowydot​

i’m only me because of you (you know me better than i do) by @mcrololo​

No Matter The Timeline by @massivedrickhead​

favorite artworks:

this hot piece by @thehorriblyslowmurderer

this adorable one by @golden-goldfish

this also hot one by @redpadawanjedi

family fluff by @ninth-on-eight

and the kiss!! by @sketchywave

another take on the kiss that i love by @shikariix​

And:

and this amazing poem by @ridiculously-over-obsessed​

can’t forget the amazing @pitchslapped​ for creating a really cool Bechloe podcast!

[amlovelies]

34 for chargestep

thank you for the prompt anon 💜 I started writing this from Ric’s point of view but then changed my mind and rewrote the whole thing

34. The feel of fingers brushing together by accident

from the sensory prompt list

presque vu

fandom: fhr

pairing: Ricardo Ortega/nb!sidestep (Vesper Bui)

rating: T reference to death and some language Vesper is a jerk. angst

words: 2.2k

read on ao3

            The coffee shop is a familiar sight. You could squint and almost pretend it was seven years ago except the awning has been bleached by the sun. You remember the trees as thin anemic things, and now they tower over your head. Large enough to conceal you as you watch Ortega pacing near the entrance.

                He hasn’t noticed you yet; you could still walk away. Stand him up, maybe then he’ll quit asking, quit trying. You shouldn’t even be here. Why was it so hard to resist him?

                You know why

.                  It’s should be easier now. It should be easier to tell him to fuck off and leave you alone. You know how this story ends. He’ll leave you behind. He’ll drag you out into the world, make you a person, make you real, and then leave you

.                 You catch a thought of a woman walking by. She’s a pretty young thing, long legs on display, hair falling in shining waves over her shoulders. She’s noticed Ortega, recognized him. Trying to working up the courage, debating with herself, should she approach him? It’s not every day you see a super hero in the flesh. It would take nothing, just the tiniest tweak, give her the confidence and make her walk over. He never could resist a pretty face. He’d forget all about meeting you for coffee. It would be the smarter thing to do.

                 You don’t do that. Instead, you make her forget, add in a little anxiety, a certainty that she is going to be late to quicken her step. Instead of doing the smart thing and walking away you let yourself be drawn to him. Inexorable.

                “There you are,” his smile is wide.

               “Did you think I stood you up?”

               A nervous chuckle, “maybe a little. It’s good to see you.” He means it. Or at least you think he does. So hard to interpret like trying to identify an object by feel alone. Familiar shapes that itch and scratch at your memory.                  A chill down your spine as you walk inside. Like stepping into your own past, but then you look closer. It’s not the same. The walls are the same color, a soft brown, and the layout remains the same, but the décor is more modern. The tables sleeker, lower backs on the chairs, more outlets for people working off laptops. So similar but not the same. You can’t go back.

                He frowns when you order a red eye, gets ready to say something, but you shoot him a glare which shuts him up. He’s the one who suggested coffee; he can’t act concerned when you order it. Probably noticed the slight tremor to your hands. So observant sometimes, and then at others so willfully obtuse. 

               Maybe he only sees what he wants to. The bags under your eyes fit the narrative he wants. The one where you are just a broken shell of the person you used to be. Just waiting for him to come along and put you back together. An insomniac with jittery hands instead of bloody ones. 

               “I thought for sure this place would have gone out of business,” you say before taking a sip of your coffee. It’s good, rich and earthy with just a hint of caramelly sweetness from the espresso. It’s a world of difference from the gas station drip and instant crap you’ve been mainlining for the last few years. “You’re really leaning into the nostalgia factor here, Ric”

                “Have to use all the weapons in my arsenal,” he says with a wink.

                “You never were any good at tactics, old man.”

                His smile is wide much more dangerous than a familiar cup of coffee. Always too contagious, that was how he drew you in. Made you believe you could have a life.

                “I don’t know from where I’m sitting it worked. I got you here, didn’t I?” Smug. Always so smug and confident, taking up too much space. Somehow feeling too close even though there’s a table between you and he’s not leaning forward. “Besides, I didn’t have to be good at them, I had you.” Now he is soft and that is worse. Trying to catch your gaze, a hand sliding out as if to grab yours.

                A twitch, an urge to reach out. To take his hand and pretend he didn’t leave you, pretend you could be a person, that you can feel. No. shut that door. Shut it down hard. “Someone had to save your reckless ass. It’s a miracle you only got me killed once.” You scoff.

                You aren’t looking at him as you say it. Maybe you should be, get to see the hit land. You want to hurt him, right? To punish him, because this is all his fault

.                 A strangled sound, and you can’t help but look up. He looks worse than he did when you visited in the hospital. “Are you ready to give up now?” you keep your voice cold. Maybe this will make him open his stupid eyes and realize you aren’t his old friend. They’re gone. Just as much as Anathema

.                 “No,” his voice is determined but you recognize that smile. You’ve seen it a dozen times. When a fight was going south, when things looked hopeless. He’d flash that smile, and somehow, you’d always made it out. Well almost. “I’ve got a thicker skin than that, Bui.”

               “Idiot,” you shake your head. It had felt so good to hurt him at the gala. Why did it feel so bad now?

               “Sure,” he agrees, “but you’re still here.”

               You are still here. It used to be so easy. You’ve felt nothing but rage for so many years. Nothing but the fire inside you, and then he walked into that stupid diner. Emotions had never been your strong suit. Even when you were trying to be a person it was still hard. Still hard to understand what you were feeling or how you were supposed to act. He was always the worst of it. At least with others you could take cues from their mind. He gave you nothing, gives you nothing. “I never said I wasn’t an idiot too,” you say with a sigh as you run a hand down your face.

                “Walk?” He’s already standing as if he knows your answer. Part of you want to be petulant to stay, to not follow his lead, but you stand up too

.                 The park across the street isn’t busy. There are a few kids on the playground, looks like it’s gotten a new corporate sponsor. For all it’s shiny new colors it still looks much like you remember it. There’s a woman on a bench reading a romance novel and sighing wistful as she thinks of her new coworker. Some teens are buying weed behind the bathrooms. Nothing dangerous and it’s easy to make the two of you pass unnoticed

.                 Walking is good. You don’t have to look at him, but you are still aware of him. Walking too close, he never had any respect for personal space

.                 His fingers brush against yours. You could call it an accident, but you can feel his eyes on you. You wait, sure he has something to say, but for once he keeps his mouth shut. Just the gentle knock of his knuckles against yours. Are there scars there from where he broke himself against your armor? It had made you smile once thinking that he’d be marked. Marked by you the same way you’ve been marked by him. Now you aren’t so sure

.                  “I don’t know how to do this,” the admission is quiet, and you hate how your voice sounds. It’s a small vulnerable thing like the pieces of yourself you left on the sidewalk seven years ago

.                 “Do what?”

                “Talk-“ a frustrated sigh- “be around you. Have friends.” You lengthen your stride, but he keeps up easily. Of course, he does. Nothing you do ever seems to really shake him, but he could always get under your skin                “Maybe you just need practice?”

               Instead of an answer you walk over to a nearby bench and take a seat. You take a sip from your coffee to avoid speaking. It’s growing cold, but you hesitate to finish it. You still need it. Need something to keep your hands busy, something to fill the awkwardness between you

.                 “Do you remember the kites-“ he begins to ask gesturing to the open field and large tree  in front of you

.                 “Yeah, I do,” You smile before adding, “I still think we should have invited Sentinel.”

               “No,” his answer is firm, just like it had been back then, but his voice is lighter than it’s been all morning. “That would have been cheating.”

               “Easy to say when you weren’t the one who had to climb the tree,” you say with a laugh. You’d been taught laughter as a technique. It was a tool, to be deployed at the right moments, to set others at ease. So different from the involuntary reaction it was around him. He was always too good at drawing it out of you. “Who knew the Marshal of Los Diablos would struggle so much with something so simple as flying a kite.”

                He bumps his shoulder against yours, “I didn’t want to rob you of part of the experience.”

                You remember he’d waxed philosophical about the importance of doing it the old-fashioned way. Of running to gather speed and watching it begin to soar behind you, that it was more fun if it took a couple tries. Empty words about childhood magic and how he hoped you could recapture it, that he could show this little piece that must have been missing from yours. He would never really understand it wasn’t just about kites, or making s’mores, or playing pirates. It wasn’t just particular experiences you were missing but the whole thing.

                You’d never had a childhood. There was nothing to recapture because you never had it in the first place. Just like you’d never had a name until he teased and cajoled you to give him one. All you had was incubation tubes and handlers and endless white walls. There was nothing magical about the chains on your wrist, the chains on your mind, the monsters that stalked the halls

.                “Bui?” you hear his voice as if from a distance. There’s a child crying somewhere and you know it’s because of you. The park has emptied. The romance novel lies forgotten on the bench, too much of a hurry to get away from you. Unable to stand even a hint of your memories. Good, they should run.

                  You’re the monster now.

                He doesn’t seem to notice the effect you have. He’s only looking at you. Eyes wide and a concerned wrinkle between his brow. This is something he could never understand. How could he? He’s untouched. Untouched with his unknowable static mind. You wish you could take it in your hands and twist it into a shape you could recognize. Something that you could interpret and begin to understand, but it always slips out. Like trying to grab mist or sunlight. You can feel it against your skin, against your shields, but you can’t affect it.

                “It’s fine.”

                You don’t need to read his mind to know he doesn’t believe you. Ortega may be a fool, but he was never stupid.

                His hand brushes against yours again. Slower this time, lingering, letting his finger drag along yours. It tingles. If you didn’t know better, you’d say it was his mods acting up, but you’ve been shocked by him before and it felt nothing like this.

                It’s an itch under your skin driving you to some sort of action. To punch him in the face or pull him in and kiss him. You don’t do either, just pull your hand away.

                “You don’t have to do that.” His voice is quiet, gentle, just like the touch of his hand had been.

                “I’m not doing anything.”

               “Yes, you are. I can see you’re pretending to be fine when you aren’t. I know you better than that.” There’s something in his eyes, something begging you to give in, to let him in.

                You want to. Some small stupid part of your brain remembering how it felt. How it felt to be real, to be more than just an instrument of vengeance. To be a person. To laugh.

                You shake your head, “not anymore.”  You know how that ends. Rising form the bench, you burn away that little voice, the one that wants to stay, to take his hand, to let him care about you. All you have is your fire. You won’t let his stupid brown eyes and fond memories douse the flames. He’d be disappointed if he did anyway. Can’t he tell there’s nothing left of you but ashes?

               “Vesper,” he calls after you begin to walk away.

                “Just give up, Ric,” you don’t turn around as you say it. You just start walking, one foot in front of the other.

                He doesn’t get up, but his words follow you as you exit the park, “I won’t.”

                 It’s just like him to get the last word in. 

[josefavomjaaga]

Crown Prince Ludwig of Bavaria and Joachim Murat

In January 1806 Napoleon spent several days in Munich for the wedding of his stepson Eugène de Beauharnais to princesse Auguste, daughter of King Max Joseph of Bavaria. In turn, Bavarian crown prince Ludwig was invited to visit the Imperial court in Paris and spent several months there. As he hated France and Napoleon with a passion (and staying with Napoleon’s family did little to change that, to say the least) yet could not help being in awe of both, he scrupulously noted down everything he found interesting. Here are three encounters he had with one Joachim Murat, about to be declared Grand Duke of Berg.

(quoted from: Max Spindler, »Kronprinz Ludwig und Napoleon I.«; each in Ludwig’s original French, in German and in English)

***

Le Prince Murat aßista au spectacle d’aujourdhui dans ma loge. Après la mort de César par Voltaire, il me dit, si quelque chose dévoit jamais arriver à celui la, montrant sur la loge voisine ou l’Empéreur se trouvoit, je serrais Antoine, je le vangerai. J’avois conçu la même idée; je lui le dit; il m’en rémercia de la bonne oppinion que j’avois de lui. Les derniers paroles qu’Antoine prononce par cette tragedie disent qu’il veut profité du moment pour occuper la place de César. Le Chambellant de Bondy rémarquà que ces paroles (qu’ Antoine ne prononça pas selon l’histoire) diminuoient beaucoup son mérite. Qu’il vengea César par amitié, mais außi que cétait tout naturel qu’après il tacha d’occuper le trône, cette remarque préceda; le P. Murat donna fort dans cette pensée. (Quand [=Qu’en] dira le Prince Eugêne? une guerre civile, ne s’allumerait-il pas âllors?)

Der Prinz Murat war bei der heutigen Theatervorstellung in meiner Loge. Nach »Mort de César« von Voltaire sagte er zu mir, wenn diesem da, indem er zur nächsten Loge zeigte, wo der Kaiser war, jemals etwas zustoßen sollte, wäre ich Antonius, ich würde ihn rächen. Ich hatte die gleiche Idee; ich sagte es ihm; er dankte mir für die gute Meinung, die ich von ihm hatte. Antonius' letzte Worte in dieser Tragödie besagen, dass er den Moment nutzen will, um Caesars Platz einzunehmen. Der Kammerherr von Bondy bemerkte, dass diese Worte (die Antonius laut der Geschichte nicht gesagt hat) seinen Verdienst stark schmälern. Dass er Caesar aus Freundschaft rächte, aber dass es nur natürlich war, dass er später versuchen würde, den Thron zu besetzen,sagte diese Bemerkung vorher; P. Murat war sehr eindringlich in diesem Gedanken (Wann [=Was] wird der Prinz Eugène dazu sagen? ein Bürgerkrieg, würde er dann nicht aufflammen?)

Prince Murat was in my box at today's theatre performance. After "Mort de César" by Voltaire, he said to me that if anything should ever happen to this one, pointing to the next box where the Emperor was, I would be Anthony, I would avenge him. I had the same idea; I told him so; he thanked me for the good opinion I had of him. Anthony's last words in this tragedy say that he wants to seize the moment to take Caesar's place. Chamberlain de Bondy remarked that these words (which, according to the story, Anthony did not say) greatly diminish his merit. That he avenged Caesar out of friendship, but that it was only natural that he would later try to occupy the throne, predicted this remark; Pr. Murat was very forceful in this thought (When [=what] will Prince Eugène say to this? a civil war, would it not then flare up?).

***

Le Prince Murat parti bien malgré lui de Paris pour se rendre pour la séconde foi dans ses états. L’Emp. nomma à sa place le gnrl. Junot gouverneur de Paris; le Prince Murat me témoigna ses regrêts d’être obligé de partir la veille de son départ à St.Cloud au téatre, d’un ton presque pleurant: »L’Empéreur veut que je parts, je ne sais pas quand j’oserai révenir.« Sur ma démande, combien de troupes qu’il est obligé de tenir en vertu de la confédération, il me répondoit 5000, mais j’en veux tenir 10 mils. Moi: »D’ou aurez vous l’argent pour les Sousdoyer?« Mur.: »Il faut esperer à la providence.«

Prinz Murat verließ Paris, um zum zweiten Mal seinen Staat zu besuchen. An seiner Stelle ernannte der Kaiser den Gnrl. Junot zum Gouverneur von Paris; Prinz Murat erzählte mir am Vorabend seiner Abreise nach St. Cloud im Theater in fast tränenreichem Ton sein Bedauern darüber, abreisen zu müssen: "Der Kaiser will, dass ich abreise, ich weiß nicht, wann ich es wagen werde, zurückzukehren." Auf meine Anfrage, wie viele Truppen er im Rahmen der Konföderation zu halten verpflichtet sei, sagte er mir 5.000, ich will aber 10,000. halten. Ich fragte: "Woher wollen Sie das Geld nehmen, um sie zu bezahlen?" Mur.: "Man muss auf die Vorsehung hoffen."

Prince Murat left Paris to visit his state for the second time. In his place the Emperor appointed Gnrl. Junot as Governor of Paris; Prince Murat, on the eve of his departure for St. Cloud, told me in the theatre, in an almost tearful tone, his regret at having to leave: "The Emperor wants me to leave, I do not know when I shall dare to return." On my enquiring how many troops he was obliged to hold under the Confederation, he told me 5,000, but that I wanted to hold 10,000. I asked, "Where will you get the money to pay them?" Mur.: "One must have faith in providence."

***

Le grandduc de Berg Joachim Murat m’aßura plus d’une fois que Mdll Georges le persécutoit, mais qu’il ne vouloit pas d’elle, et elle de son cotté que Murat faißoit tout son poßible pour l’avoir, mais qu’elle ne vouloit pas de lui. Et pourtant c’est un fait que tous les deux se sont connu bien intimement. De sa propre volonté il me dit qu’elle n’étoit pas du tout intereßée, une chose absolument fauße. Il me dit cela dans les premiers jours de mon arrivé à Paris dans le mois de Février.

Un jour pendant la représentation d’une pièce au théatre de St.Cloud, se trouvant dans la même loge que moi me dit voyant une belle dame vis à vis dans une loge plus élévée: »J’ai eu cette femme.« Pourtant il ne l’avoit pas même vu une seule fois, et quelques minutes après ce beau propos il demandoit à un courtisan s’il ne pouroit pas lui dire le nom de cette dame.

Der Großherzog von Berg Joachim Murat versicherte mir mehr als einmal, dass Mademoiselle Georges hinter ihm her war, er sie aber nicht wollte, und sie ihrerseits, dass Murat alles tat, um sie zu bekommen, sie ihn aber nicht wollte. Und doch ist es eine Tatsache, dass die beiden sich sehr gut kannten. Aus freien Stücken erzählt er mir, dass sie überhaupt nicht interessiert war, was völlig falsch ist. Das sagte er mir in den ersten Tagen nach meiner Ankunft in Paris im Februar.

Als er eines Tages während der Aufführung eines Stücks im St. Cloud Theatre in derselben Loge wie ich stand, sagte er zu mir, als er gegenüber in einer etwas höheren Loge eine schöne Dame sah: "Ich hatte diese Frau." Doch er hatte sie nicht ein einziges Mal gesehen, und innerhalb weniger Minuten nach dieser schönen Aussage fragte er einen Höfling, ob er ihm nicht den Namen der Dame sagen könne.

The Grand Duke of Berg Joachim Murat assured me more than once that Mademoiselle Georges was after him but he did not want her, and she, for her part, that Murat did everything to get her but she did not want him. And yet the fact is that the two knew each other very well. Of his own free will he tells me that she was not interested at all, which is completely wrong. He told me that in the first days after I arrived in Paris in February.

Standing in the same box as me one day during the performance of a play at the St. Cloud Theatre, when he saw a beautiful lady opposite in a slightly higher box, he said to me: "I had that woman." But he had not seen her once, and within a few minutes of this beautiful statement he asked a courtier to tell him the lady's name.

***

I’m naturally mostly fascinated by the first anecdote and the remark on Eugène. Apparently Ludwig had already picked up on the rivalry between Eugène and Murat during his stay in Paris in spring 1806. It’s interesting that his first thought was Eugène when he wondered who would protest against Murat succeeding Napoleon – not Joseph or Louis. Eugène was nothing in Paris, officially, he did not have any right to succession.

Edit: Possibly in Murat’s defence regarding the third anecdote: Ludwig had notoriously bad hearing. So god knows what Murat really said about that lady in the other box when he was whispering with Ludwig during a theater play - and I hope those two were at least whispering!

[hereforlou]

15 Inception Fics

Okay, here are 15 (well, 16) Arthur/Eames fics that I love for @mediawhorefics and @statementsue ! Just like the fics in my sterek rec, I haven’t read these in a while, but I remember loving them a lot and I still have them saved. I did one per author, but once again, these authors are all amazing and have written multiple fics in different fandoms. I hope you find some you like/haven’t read ❤️

🎲 Incipit (8k)

Arthur has been his editor from the beginning. Eames says he won't work with anyone else, and what Arthur will never tell him is that he would cut anyone who tried.

🎲 No Discipline of Forgetting (12k)

Arthur forgets; Eames waits.

A story about Arthur and Eames, in Limbo, for a long, long time — and the world they make together.

🎲 Presque Vu (69k)

Or, "on the tip of the tongue." Arthur meets Mal first. He inherits Dom, after. Everything else is on him.

🎲 Antimony (54k)

Dreamshare goes legal, Arthur goes corporate, Eames goes and (against his better judgement) falls in love.

🎲 I've Got Nothing To Do Today But Smile (The Only Living Boy in New York) (19k)

Arthur's a corporate lawyer, Eames owns the coffee shop across the street, and all good love stories start with a quadruple shot latte.

🎲 The Material Life of the Californian Suburb (35k)

Arthur seduces Eames into good.

🎲 Can't Get Enough of You (Baby) (22k)   

Eames vanishes from dreamshare and Arthur goes a little crazy looking for him until he stumbles across him -- with a baby.

🎲 The Revolution Will Not Be Civilized (62k)

Arthur is the son of the ruler, and an Omega male. Eames is leading the revolution. Which kidnaps Arthur. This is only the start of their problems.

🎲 et les mots croisés (66k)

Sometimes you can be working at cross-purposes and still find yourselves intersecting at just the right angle.

🎲 The One Where They're Stars on HGTV (466k)

Have you ever seen "Love It or List It"? In which Arthur is the real estate agent and Eames is the designer.

🎲 Simple Math (46k)

"So," Eames says slowly, leaning back against the school wall as he idly taps his cigarette. "We've got a problem here."

or, The Fake Boyfriend High School AU

🎲 Pants on Fire (15k)

"Ah," Yusuf says, lifting a reproving hand, "are we calling less than 24 hours of memory loss amnesia now?"

🎲 Late Night Phone Call (14k)

Arthur usually finds blatant fishing for compliments extremely irritating, but in Eames’ case he is reluctantly charmed. In fact, he writes the phrase “reluctantly charmed” into the Eames notebook the moment the words occur to him because they so perfectly encapsulate his entire situation.

🎲 Show Me the Way Home (18k)

“Let me guess,” Eames says, no longer surprised when Arthur appears unannounced at his door.  “You couldn't bear to stay away from my sofa for one more day.”

In which Arthur develops a relationship with Eames' sofa and eventually with Eames himself.

🎲 I Seem to be a Verb (93k)

Notting Hill AU. Arthur owns a quirky hipster science bookstore.  Eames is a world-famous mega-celebrity.  

Clearly this calls for a meet-cute.

This (wonderful) author is already on the list but this fic deserves a Special Mention because there’s one scene that I think about regularly to this day for some reason:

🎲 Breathe Into It (9k)

When Mal leans into his office and asks Eames what he did to his back, he can't exactly say, "the new graphics intern," so he says, "Oh, just stress, love."

[deliciousfartbanana]

Boredom

The pang of anxiety manifests itself in a region beginning at the bottom of the throat and radiates an uncomfortable heat that spreads down towards the diaphragm.  Focussing on the feeling stabilises it into a general discomfort in the lower abdomen.

The feeling is brought on by excessive consumption of caffeine (more than 2 cups of coffee per day usually does it) or the lack of external stimulus.  Whether the increased attention to the mind’s circular thoughts is the true cause of the discomfort, or the attention to the thoughts is just an amplified symptom of the discomfort, is unknown.

Occupying (or distracting) the mind becomes increasingly difficult, while the yearning for entertainment transforms into an impulsive need.  Despite this, the will to engage in such activities deteriorates.  This in turn creates a vicious cycle as the mind becomes annoyed with the idea of “the cure” being as simple as “just doing something enjoyable”. 

The idea of enjoyment becomes foreign, as the mind struggles to recall anything that has both previously been entertaining and will be entertaining in the current moment.  This is similar to the effects of “presque vu” where the mind is unable to recall (in this instance) the sense of enjoyment normally associated with certain activities.  

Emotional satiation may have an impact on this will also, as the mind has become used to prior stimulus.  Now that the period of stimulus has ended, it is felt that the same level of entertainment cannot immediately be obtained.

In this scenario, instant gratification can be deemed useless, as the mind requires a more meaningful and cognitively challenging activity.  A popular choice is to analyse any underlying emotions, in search for a correlation between the physical discomfort and the current mood.  This approach can often be detrimental as the mind - primed with physical discomfort - will be actively searching for negative emotions and memories.

Instead, an outward expression of the current mental state is the form of demonstrating a skill (music, art, writing, etc.) and detract from the discomfort of being bored.

It should be noted that the medium chosen should be void of any sense of obligation, as the feeling of dread may be exacerbated.  Examples of this include media that are normally a product of employment, regularly scheduled group activities, etc.  The act of creating a physical manifestation of the current mental state can be rewarding in itself, as the mind can comfortable become in invested in an activity without fear of failure.  

The product of this activity does not need to be shared, however the affirmation or constructive criticism of peers can be beneficial in prolonging the enjoyment.  The primary goal of the activity is to lessen the feeling of boredom, so if control of the activity is taken by one other than the self, the dread of obligation may arise.  

If the activity can be led by the self, then it can be beneficial to invite others to join in.  The atmosphere of the group should be one of mutual enjoyment, rather than a test of social intelligence.  The unfortunate side effect of making a group activity is that the self can no longer dispose of it once they are satisfied.

After one is invested in the desired activity, the mind may wander.  As there is no obligation to continue the activity, a wandering mind should be encouraged.  The satisfaction of an activity completed before the mind has “burned out” will often lead one to know what they want to do next.

[remythologise]

tom hardy improving ‘darling’ bc he’s insane vs. jensen ackles accidentally birthing destiel through his little crush on his costar: FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! (falling back into spn fic has consequently made me revisit some of my favorite fic for truly insane 2010s tumblr pairings. arthur/eames is obviously one of these. I must know if you ever read presque vu.)(also I once read a j2 fic where jared was a secret agent and jensen was his slutty handler and just. um. it was a choice.)

Hey anon come here I love you and I wanna kiss you and I thought about making a joke about Tom/Jensen here but I think it’s like two magnets with the same polarity they both have those Lips... and make those Jacting Joices. Wouldn’t work at all. I don’t believe in top/bottom discourse or The Dynamic or whatever reductionist bullshit but I DO believe in this new reductionist bullshit I’ve tapped into right here. Speaking of; cannot BELIEVE how much content Arthur/Eames got out of a few lines in that film like that is some HEAVY LIFTING by Mr. Hardy good for him. I’m pretty hit or miss on 2010s white men slash fandoms like I did read Arthur/Eames but only because everyone else was, I really don’t remember any that I loved or felt strong emotions about (and yeah I’ve read most of rageprufrock’s well known fics, she got in early with a lot of those fandoms!)... However the tumblr dash peer pressure* to vibe with Arthur/Eames was at least peer pressure with TASTE! I was also peer pressured into Teen Wolf** and Sherlock*** fandoms I feel. Although I resisted peer pressure on the Social Network and some others. On the other hand, WB Holmes, Merlin and 2009 Star Trek always have and always will absolutely fuck.

A Choice huh??? Tell me more. I’m not going to lie I would read RPF rn out of blatant curiosity but every time I’ve ever tried it, it made me a) uncomfortable and b) I don’t ship those people tbh and c) I just don’t feel RPF is generally well written EXCEPT the one**** RPF I remember reading/enjoying a decade ago, that Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto World War I AU LMAO I mean. Is it RPF if it’s such a blatant AU? Who knows.

* Peer pressure being a joke, obviously it’s just wanting to be in on the same fun everyone else is having. I’m sure everyone dragged in SPN feels this way but I genuinely believe it’s such a valid time that everyone is having genuine emotions about vs. like. pretending to as I feel with respect to... ** Prime example: tumblr psyop into liking Sherlock, objectively a bad show, and shipping Johnlock... when I say pretending to care about ships it’s like. I couldn’t bring myself to read fic for Johnlock I just shipped it through gifs, same with *** ACTUAL example of peer pressure since an... ex friend of mine irl bullied me into watching all of Teen Wolf when it was airing... emphasis on ex friend... **** Also the Leonard Nimoy/William Shatner name changed serial numbers filed off high school AU that was published but you read it and you’re like. I see

[lovevalley45]

daily prompt: presque vu

"Hey. You want some tea?"

Ava turned towards Zari as she walked in, two cups of tea already in hand. She stepped away from the console with a smile. "Yeah, I could use a break."

Ever since Sara had gone missing, she couldn't have been more fortunate for her. Zari, to her surprise (but not really), had not shied away from stepping up as second-in-command in her absence. At first it had been taking on some of the responsibility as she tried to cope but it had grown into a partnership in the following months.

"The trail went cold again," Ava said once they'd settled in the bridge, grateful for the warmth of the mug in her hand. "At this rate, I don't know if we'll ever find her."

"Who knows? Maybe she's trying to find us as well," she answered. "We'll find something soon, Ave."

"Yeah." She took a sip of her tea, glancing at Zari. She'd cut her hair, saying something about it being easier to deal with as a bob. Ava hadn't worked up the courage to tell her how nice she looked with her hair shorter, though she didn't know why it felt so hard. 

As if aware she was looking at her, she ran a hand through her hair and cleared her throat. "So, it's been pretty quiet around here lately."

She chuckled. "You say that like it's a bad thing. I'm just happy I haven't had to put out any fires today."

"Okay, I forgot to unplug my curling iron one time," Zari said, but she had a smile on her face. "It feels like a while since we've just had some time to ourselves."

Something about the way she said 'we' struck her. It was easy to think of them as a 'we', as if they were managing the team together. She guessed they were. 

And although she knew she and Sara were supposed to the co-captains, that she was supposed to be by her side leading the team, a part of her told her that wasn't the case anymore. Despite Zari's reassurances, sometimes Ava felt like the whole thing was fruitless. Maybe her luck had won out, maybe they would be too late. 

But even when she forced herself not to dwell on that, she couldn't ignore everything else. Having Zari at her side felt natural. They worked, sometimes better than she had with Sara. 

Ava met her dark brown eyes at the same time she looked over at her, almost getting lost in them. "Yeah, it has felt like forever," she said. There was something else she wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come out. Maybe it was something about the naturalness of the word 'we', maybe it was that compliment she'd been wanting to pay her. But instead, she asked, "So, did you read the book for this week's meeting?"

Zari sighed. "Shit, I've been so busy I forgot."

Smiling, she said, "Me too."

[vivalamusaine]

Presque vu, Once More

(alternative) Barricade day fic- Enjoltaire slow burn, Reincarnation AU

Chapter 1/8: Orestes Falling and Pylades Grieving

Presque vu (from French, meaning "almost seen") is the sensation of being on the brink of an epiphany. 

Enjolras was dead, and there was no denying this. The body he was occupying was not the one he’d grown accustomed to for 26 years, it had not walked the streets of Paris, clasped the hand that sought it in it’s last moments, nor was it riddled with 8 bullet holes. 

Yet here he was, in a new decade, with a new name, and a new cause, only one other at his side remembered who he used to be. It was death's cruel curse that the person chosen to share his fate of remembering the life he lost happened to be Grantaire.

Read it on AO3

[glow-worm]

On the Ruins of Raven’s Roost

Desidirium (noun) : an ardent desire or longing, especially a feeling of loss or grief for something lost

--

Everything had been perfect. Magnus had been so happy. He had lived in absolute bliss—Lucretia couldn’t have dreamed of a better happily ever after for her dear friend.

But that was gone now.

She watched from afar as Magnus collapsed near the ruins of Raven’s Roost. Debris from the support column and the colony that had been atop it were piled in a broken mess where the Craftmen’s Corridor had once stood, pieces of cabins and chunks of stone were scattered below at the base of the cliff.

He was wailing.

Her heart panged with sympathy as she watched him keen with an unparalleled grief. Suffering that she had never seen from him in their hundred years together. Torment she had never seen in her entire life.

It was unbearable.

She had to fix it.

“Lucretia.”

A deep, chilling voice beckoned from behind her. She recognized it instantly, and was immediately filled with both joy and dread.

She turned around to see the dark phantasmal form of her friend and rival, Barry Bluejeans.

Any shred of hope that had sparked within her upon hearing his voice died out, as she felt the unmistakable sensation of someone prying into her thoughts. She tried to push him out of her mind, but his lich form was too powerful. But as quickly as he had come in, he relinquished. Barry held his skeletal arm outstretched threateningly and aimed point-blank at her. Crackles of red energy flashed around it, ready to fire.

“Barry,” Lucretia began. “I—”

“I won’t let you do this, Lucretia. This is where I draw the line. You’ve taken our family’s bonds. You’ve taken our Captain’s very soul. You have taken their memories and their pasts. I will not let you take his future, too.”

His words stuck in her like a knife.

“The relics would have destroyed this world,” Lucretia explained. “And they destroyed our chance of happiness. I’m giving us that chance back.”

“You can’t. I don’t want to fight you, Lucretia, but I will. Magnus found love. I won’t let you take that away from him. I won’t let you make him forget about his wife like you tried to make me forget about mine.”

As he spoke his last few words he struggled, his spectral form flickered as the red electricity of his lich power charged around him.

Lucretia desperately, angrily motioned back towards Magnus.

“Is this happiness, Barry?! Is this peace?!”

“No. But it is part of life. Grief is necessary. You have not erased their pain, Lucretia. You have only buried it. And by doing so, you have condemned them to suffering.”

“How can you say that?! Magnus was happy. Merle has a child. He’s on the beach where he always wanted to be. Taako is on tour, he’s far happier than I ever dreamed he could be without his sister. And Davenport…I know how it seems, but he’s okay—this is only temporary—I wouldn’t let him go on like that if he wasn’t at least at peace, I promise—I know it looks bad but as soon as I have the Relics and I’ve put everything right—”

“You are wrong, Lucretia.” Barry’s form quivered briefly. “You can’t possibly begin to understand how that constant sensation of presque-vu torments them. It is torture. It is why I cannot bear to be in my body.”

Lucretia swallowed her guilt. She held her tongue and let him speak.

“Merle grew listless with monotony and ruined his marriage,” Barry began. “He has abandoned his home, his child. And Taako—he knows something is missing. I see it. He is tormented. He pours two glasses of wine at a time and doesn’t understand why. He leaves space for her when he rests at night. He leaves space for her, and he doesn’t even know who she is. He doesn’t even know she ever existed.”

He floated closer, and Lucretia took a step back.

“I watched someone ask him about his childhood, and he said “we”. And he could not grasp why he had said that. Because he believes he’s been alone his whole life. Lucretia. To have a bond as strong as theirs, only to have that bond ripped away—torn from his memories and from very existence itself—it leaves an empty space. And that space has made him bitter and cold.”

He grew closer still, his spectral form popping and fizzling slightly, so Lucretia reached for her staff.

“And as for Magnus—he was plagued with nightmares he could not see or explain. He had Julia to comfort him, but now…”

“Barry, you’re losing yourself,” she warned. “Your voice, your manner of speech, you—you don’t sound like yourself. Work with me. Please. We can find the relics and end this. We can look for Lup together.”

“You know I can’t do that, Lucretia,” He replied sternly. “You need to stop this. Your shield will break all the bonds of this world. It will suffocate.”

“Surely that’s better than being completely consumed by the Hunger,” Lucretia insisted.

“We have had this argument often enough for me to know I cannot convince you to stop,” Barry said. “I came here for one reason only: to protect Magnus from you.”

Barry raised his arm again, red static energy building up around it.

“Do not take his love from him. He will be nothing but a shell. He will be consumed with grief from empty spaces he cannot make sense of. He is already suffering enough, I won’t let you augment that suffering with desiderium.”

Lucretia balled her hands into fists, clenching her teeth as she spat, “You really want me to just leave him like this?”

“It is not your decision to make, Lucretia. None of this has ever been your decision to make.”

“I did what I had to do, Barry. To keep this world safe. We promised Lup—”

“Don’t talk about Lup. Wherever she is, she never would have wanted this,” Barry shouted, his lich form sputtering again, much more so than the last time. Barry nearly lost control—Lucretia quickly threw up a Shield of Faith in front of herself as a bolt of red energy shot off of him and hit a nearby tree, scorching it.

Barry took a moment to collect himself, then quietly continued. “Promise me you won’t erase Raven’s Roost. Promise me you won’t erase Julia Burnsides.”

Lucretia dissolved her shield with a heavy exhale.

“Promise me.”

Her throat felt tight, and her voice trembled as she spoke: “If that’s what you want, Barry—fine. I am not giving up my quest to restore the Light of Creation, but I promise you. I won’t erase anything more from our family’s lives. No matter how bad things get for them.”

Hearing this, Barry vanished into thin air—but Lucretia continued to hear his voice as she turned and scanned the area for any sign of him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Lucretia, but know this,” Barry’s voice echoed around her. “If you break that promise. I will kill you.”

She gripped her Bulwark Staff tighter, her heart heavy.

Before his voice faded out completely, he left her with one last quiet plea. This time, his speech sounded a little more like his own—it still was a harsh whisper of a lich, but it rang with the distinctive compassion and deep baritone voice of Barry Bluejeans.

“Please don’t make me do that. In spite of everything, I want to believe…I have to believe…we can all be together again someday.”

She could no longer feel his presence, the intense arcane power of his lich form gone.

She took a deep breath and looked back over her shoulder off into the distance, to see Magnus still doubled over on the ground near the ruins of Raven’s Roost, weeping loudly.

“I’m sorry, old friend,” she whispered.

Barry was right. She could not just erase any and every hardship that came to her family. A line had to be drawn somewhere. A life without pain was no life at all. They had worked so hard, and suffered for so long—they deserved normalcy. She simply could not prevent her loved ones from feeling pain forever.

No matter how much she wanted to.

----

Come read this on AO3!

[educatedinyellow]

Fic Rec Bingo meme

1. A Fic Vid I Love Without Knowing the Source Material: This is much more common for me with vids than fics, so I can recommend several here.

Whoomp! (There It Is!) by sisabet (Stranger Things)

Shut Up and Drive by sanguinity (Sherlock Hound)

Little Maiden Fair by tartiflette (Pixar’s Brave)

Glass Coffins by seekingferret (Where on Earth is Carmen Sandiego?)

Problem by CherryIce (Captain Marvel)

2. A Fic With a Premise That Shouldn’t Work, But Does:

Little Birds by winterhill (Charles/Erik, X-Men First Class, rated T. It should not be possible to literally make them all birds and still write a serious love story and war story, but here we are.)

3. A Fic I’ve Reread Several Times:

Jason and Me by David Hines (Stephanie Brown & all the Robins, Batman, rated M. I have never read a Batman comic book nor seen any incarnation of Stephanie -- she was Robin #4 -- but I’ve picked up a lot of Bat-verse canon through fic and movies and TV and osmosis, and anyway this fic touches me every single time.)

4. A Fic I Still Remember Many Years Later:

Merrily We Roll Along by Vicki Loebel (Illya & Napoleon, Man From UNCLE, rated T. This fic is from 2005. Amnesiac!Illya’s narrative point of view remains such a pleasure to read.)

5. A Comfort Fic:

Fearson’s Floating Cigarette by orange_crushed (Dean/Cas, SPN, rated M. It’s so good-hearted.)

6. A Cathartic Fic:

Return to Sender by aileenrose (Dean/Cas, SPN, rated E. Warning: Sam is dead, the fic is about dealing with grief; the ending is beautiful, but oh I cried.)

7. A Fic I’d Print and Put on My Bookshelf:

Presque Vu by rageprufrock (Arthur & Mal, Arthur/Eames, Inception, rated M. I was touched and transported by this fic, and I don’t even ship Arthur/Eames. The prequel to Inception that I needed.)

8. A Fic I Associate With a Song:

Make Whole What Has Been Smashed by gigantic (Johnlock, BBC Sherlock, rated T. It’s not a song fic at all, but the fic is told from the POV of a person who is living their life backwards, from the future to the past, and I just associate it with the song “The Scientist”)

9. A Fic That Inspires Me:

Between the Dog and the Wolf by AxmxZ Boanerges (Javert/Valjean, Les Mis, rated T. A gold standard fic in my eyes for historical immersion and creative engagement with the source text).

10. A Fic That Brought Me Onboard a New Ship:

Cinderwings by bendingsignpost (Dean/Cas, SPN, rated M. This fic is the reason I started watching SPN and was my first introduction to both Dean and Castiel.)

11. A Fic I Wish Could Be a Movie:

Arcana by rosa_acicularis (genderswap, Joanna Watson/Sherlock, BBC Sherlock, rated M. The magic sequences in this story could be stunning on film if done right).

12. A Fic That Led to Me Making Friends With the Author:

Particular Debts by sanguinity (Holmes & Watson, 7 Percent Solution, rated T. I had seen her around, but I didn’t know Sang when she wrote this lovely fic for me at Holmestice. It was an excellent introduction!)

13. A Fic I’ve Gushed About IRL:

and these, from atoms by kay_cricketed (Charles/Erik, X-Men First Class, rated T, incomplete. I really love this fic. My BFF and I discovered we were reading it independently of each other and squeeeee’d!)

14. A Fic I Associate With a Place:

View of a different landscape (John Watson, BBC Sherlock, rated T. A fic about John in Pakistan during the war, written by an author who has lived in Peshawar.)

15. A Fic That Made Me Gasp Out Loud:

A Study in Midnight by M_Leigh (Holmes/Watson, A Study in Emerald, rated M. It’s an amazing fic! And aaaaaaa there’s this Thing that Happens and I was not prepared.)

16. A Fic I Found at the Right Time:

Bel Canto by bendingsignpost (Johnlock, BBC Sherlock-Phantom of the Opera fusion, rated T. This fic started posting in early March of 2013, when my son was about three weeks old. Like most new parents, I was getting very little sleep, and it felt like such a gift to have this long, intricate fic posting once a week to read, reread, and savor when I was exhausted yet awake in the middle of the night, feeding my kid. This story got me through the three months it took before our household got to start sleeping through the night again. And I believe “Angel of Music” was the first lullaby I sang him.)

17. A Fic That I Would Read Fic Of:

Learning to Speak by tinsnip (Garak/Bashir, Star Trek DS9, rated G. I want more of Julian figuring out all the things he loves, and doesn’t love, about Cardassia; more of these two figuring out how to trust and communicate within their relationship; more cross-cultural debate and learning language. This is all great stuff, rich with possibilities.)

18. A Fic That Made Me LOL:

My True Love Sent To Me by wafflestories (Johnlock, BBC Sherlock, rated G. A texting fic for the holidays. I always laugh.)

19. A Fic With a Line (or Two) I’ve Memorized by Heart:

Early Returns by rageprufrock (Arthur/Eames, Inception, rated T). “It takes him back to when he was a 17-year-old summer exchange student and the increasingly stupid game of hipster chicken he and Mal had played, where they first pretended not to like each other, and then pretended not to be virgins, and then pretended they knew how to smoke. It had been a summer fraught with poor decision-making.” (I started reading Inception fic purely because I wanted more Arthur-Mal friendship backstory; the phrase “increasingly stupid game of hipster chicken” is my headcanon for them and lives in my heart).

Also: “He’d been a journalist for his entire professional career, so of course he’d been this depressed before.” My husband quotes that one around the house occasionally, too.

20. A Fic That Gave Me Butterflies:

Private Friends by orchid314 (Holmes/Watson, ACD Holmes, rated T. The scene where Holmes throws up his hat because his joy is bubbling over. The way Watson watches Holmes’s hands on his violin.)

21. A Fic That Embodies Something I Value in Life:

Obscurity by Urbanhymnal (Johnlock, BBC Sherlock, rated T. A magical realism story about a person who communicates differently than other people, and the love that grows from mutual respect and acceptance.)

22. A Favorite AU:

Left by lifeonmars (Johnlock, BBC Sherlock, rated M. Such clever and elegant world-building that manages to feel only barely canon-divergent.)

23. A Fic I Stayed Up Too Late to Finish Reading:

I honestly could pick almost any fic here, but let’s go for gold and pick the one with the most deliciously gigantic chapters:

The Men Who Talked Between the Words by Odamaki (Johnlock and ensemble, BBC Sherlock, rated E. This fic feels like it has so much realness in it, such observant interest not only in the protagonists but in all the people and places around them.)

24. A Fic That Made Me Feel Seen:

To Join These Men in Holy Matrimony by A_Candle_For_Sherlock (Holmes/Watson, ACD Holmes, rated T. I was surprised and floored when one of my very favorite Holmesian authors named me as one of the people that this beautiful fic was gifted to -- I was not taking part in any exchange at the time, it was very delightfully unexpected! In her author’s note, she wrote: “This fic is for rachelindeed and daisynorbury, whose work has given me joy, and whose Holmeses have contributed good things to mine. Thank you for adding your love to this fandom.” I was so touched by that. It’s what we all do for one another in fandom, it’s one of the best things about sharing our imaginations in community; being acknowledged like that did honestly make me feel seen and special. What a gift!

25. Free Space:

Varieties of Repentance by deborah_judge (Lennier & Sheridan, Babylon 5, rated G. I was probably the only person in the world whose favorite character on Babylon 5 was Lennier. Anyway, in its penultimate episode, the series threw his character into the garbage in spectacular fashion and it killed my personal investment in the show, unfortunately. But this lovely story offers a sad, generous, and compassionate resolution to his character, and I really appreciate that.)