The Beginning Of Joly And Bossuet’s Friendship .↓

We’re Hugo nominated authors y'all. We did it.

Art Challenge: 30 Important Expressions

Draw ‘em all, or have someone send you a character and a number… it’s your wonderland, Alice. Reblog, add your own. Have a good time.

hasn’t slept in 48 hours

tasted something gross

in a long, slow line at the DMV

listening to blind date talk about their ex

reading YouTube comments

favorite song just came on

song they hate just came on

had their favorite show spoiled

just fell in love (a.k.a. “Dreamweaver face”)

saw a wasp

had a fist fight (they won)

had a fist fight (they lost)

food coma

hello darkness, my old friend

“was that Batman?”

forgot what they were about to say

“oh no, they’re hot…”

their best friend’s cooking is not as good as they think

brainfreeze!

texted the wrong person

check out this box of kittens/puppies/bunnies/ducklings/whatever’s cutest to them!

their favorite TV show character dies

having an increasingly awkward conversation with Bob of Modus Operandi

parent/guardian is showing their baby pictures

stepped on a Lego

stepped on an Eggo… you know… the waffle

102 degrees indoors and there’s no A/C

watching the end of The Iron Giant… or maybe the opening to Up… or w-when Shadow is stuck in Homeward Bound…??

woken up out of a dead sleep

nailed it.

(some suggestions were lovingly crowd-sourced from kayzig samwisedamgee marianascosta geekysideburns briandanielwolf sarahfu and indigoats.com!)

“But it’s all a trap.”

AU where Maeglin walks through a hidden door in the mountains and finds an Other Idril.

I was looking around my old document files and found this, and thought people might like it.

Bahorel/Prouvaire pre-slash fic beneath the cut.

--

It started out very slow.

Jehan appreciated art in all its forms. The glow of a sunset, the trill of a flute, the aroma of a bakery. So it was not surprising that, one day at the Musain with friends, he happened to notice the articulation of Bahorel’s wrist and fingers.

The man had been mid-gesture, talking with Joly about – oh, probably Joly’s mistress – and Bahorel was prone to magnificent gestures with his hands, he was probably part Italian somewhere. But for some reason, one hand landed in a beam of sunlight that had snuck through the window, and the modelling of bone and muscle and skin had drawn Jehan’s eye like one of Joly’s magnets.

They had known each other long enough that, after the meeting, when Jehan went over to Bahorel and said, rather absentmindedly, “I like your wrists. And your fingers. Reminds me of Michelangelo,” Bahorel merely laughed and ruffled Jehan’s too-long hair.

And Jehan had gone home, and sung to his violets, and written a poem about a girl that he saw in the street, and that was that.

Except that it was not.

The two of them went drinking together on occasion, and would get into ferociously animated discussions about life and death, and the afterlife, and the judgment of men. And if the flash of an eye and the curve of a smile managed to leave an after-image on the insides of Jehan’s eyelids, he certainly didn’t remember it in the morning, in the aftermath of a most excellent debate, complete with Byronic skullcups and bloodred wine.

It was during another meeting at the Musain some months later, when Jehan was in the middle of expounding upon the poetic merits of pagan mythology, that he overheard a snippet of conversation.

“ – And you never quarrel!”

“That’s part of the treaty we have made. When we made our little Holy Alliance, we each assigned our own boundary that we’d never cross. The part to the north belongs to Vaud, the south to Gex. Hence our peace.”

“Peace is happiness digesting.”

Ordinary conversation on an ordinary day, but it snagged Jehan like a splinter on a stocking – tore a tiny hole, just large enough to grow, and grow it did. Weeks afterward he found himself muttering aloud: “Happiness does not come from a social contract.”

He wondered, briefly, if the nature of romantic liaisons had any bearing on Locke’s theory.

Envy is a tenacious seed, but it was not envy that took root in Jehan’s mind. Rather, it was something else, which sprang from conversation, smiles, and the model of hand and wrist, -- and became ideas, and the flash of eyes, -- and became, over the course of slow months, something that Jehan was not entirely familiar with.

He had been in love before. The girl had been his neighbor when he was a small child, and his playmate, and they chattered about the shapes of clouds and lullabies and flowers, and made mud pies, and collected crisp fall leaves. That girl had had the clearest blue eyes, and that was why Jehan loved the sky, still: it reminded him of that first love, pure and honest as only children can be.

This was something different. This was wanting.

oh, and it's one thing to count the stars in the sky but it's another to count the bells in your laugh (all the music theory in the world cannot describe its resonance in my chest or the warmth it burns in my heart), for what can the stars give me that you have not already given, and given more freely? the stars shine bright but they cannot compare to the brightness of your eyes. I may see the stars inscribed lovingly on black velvet, a love song to the eternity of space and time, an inscription of the galaxies contained within the earth -- chasms filled to the brim with glittering multifaceted wonders -- but your eyes, your laugh, are worth more than any jewel. -- no. no, there can be nothing else but that laugh which contains within it all the joys the world can know. I would do a thousand foolish things to hear that laugh again.

to her: letters, i.

chapter sixteen of Climbing to the Light is up!

or: the one where I fudge writing Quidditch, and shamelessly ship Marius’ mother with an original female character to boot.

Modern AU GrantairexJoly~ Engagement.

Years of dating went by before Grantaire finally asked Joly to marry him. It took all the courage he had shockingly, especially since he asked Joly out. 

Grantaire: Philippe Joly, will you marry me? *Grantaire was even down on one knee*

Joly: *Pulls in a sharp breath* Yes of course! 

So I’m still going through most of this blog, archiving the old rp stuff offline and deleting the posts themselves. If anybody who I used to rp with here (when this blog was still called ask-the-hypochondriac) wants any of those screenshots, you are more than welcome to contact me and I’ll send copies of them to you.

But yeah, if anybody’s been paying attention to the change in url, this is now gonna be my fic and sketch blog. So I’m going to be rebageling drabbles and fics from my other rp blogs here, dumping original stuff here, posting sketches, that kind of thing. Probably mostly going to be centered on LOTR and the Silmarillion since that’s mostly the fandom I’m in right now.

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"Okay, let's go steal the Magisterium."

~

leverage s3 & his dark materials s1 ; alec hardison/parker/eliot spencer ; multichapter ; rated T.

part six: a few more of the whys and the hows.

im crying over javert getting stuck in the corner with grantaire he’s just like Why