John Faa And Maggie Costa Is The Relationship We Should Be Yammering About. Asriel This Marisa Coulter

So am I dead? How many kinds of living and dead and living dead and dead living had I been in just these few months, these few days, after the stasis of plain old human living and dying? I deserved some kind of existential medal.

                    -  Dust by Joan Frances Turner

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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.

prologue: in which the stage is set.

|| in which somebody might not have thought things through quite as much as he could have. WIP.

noot noot! book of nile please <3

“Lover’s Wreck” - Gaelic Storm

In my sleeping mind she sings a sad and lonely lullaby

And when I wake, there’s just the ache that’ll haunt me ‘til I die

It’s been two days now since he woke from the first death that wasn’t his and wasn’t drowning. Two days, and he’ll never wake from it again, but he can remember it now, in Val d'Argent, as clearly as he did on the train in Sudan: the heat of blood spilling out, the sharp pain, and most of all the shock.

He remembers her looking up at her friend’s face and thinking Oh, this is it. I didn’t think it would be like this.

He remembers her thinking, I don’t want to go.

It reminds him of how his own first death went. Of how he had been so sure he would survive, and then the stomach-dropping realization that he wouldn’t.

And then, of course, he did. And now she has, too.

He doesn’t want to go to sleep again. It was easier in Goussainville, knowing that Merrick’s men were coming but not knowing Nile, not really. But now Merrick’s men have come and gone and taken Nicky and Joe with them, and Andy is being weird and quieter than normal, and Nile …

Nile.

She shines, is the thing. Booker has tried, but he can’t take his eyes off her.

Keep reading

published the first new chapter of my ghost fantine fic in four years🎉

more ghosts whaaaaat

will never actually ''officially'' participate in nanowrimo because who's got the time. however, want to get back in the habit and therefore have made a little spreadsheet with graphs, and am actually writing again for the first time in months. numbers go up, brain goes wheeeee, story gets progress. feels good.

Violin player Grantaire who always carries his violin around with him so whenever cosette and marius start making eyes at each other he can play bella notte from lady and the tramp

Finduilas is in the habit of keeping things in her pockets for her children. There is almost always a biscuit with jam at the center for Faramir, and a new stone she’s found for Boromir, and silly drawings with riddles she’s made for both of them, just like the ones her grandfather made for her and her siblings when they were young.

The riddles are a delight to the pair of them, and it is one time when there is sure to be no quarrel between them, since they love to solve them together, and Finduilas has crafted them to ensure there are parts to suit both of them well.

The most sacred rule of the riddle games is that no one is supposed to help – a rule she has especially impressed upon her notoriously clever spouse.

But one day, the riddle is particularly challenging to the young pair, and Denethor finds their pleading eyes just ever so persuasive, and before he truly realizes what he’s done, he’s told them which of the Citadel’s many wall carvings will hold the answer they seek.

And so Faramir and Boromir eagerly bring the next riddle to him straightaway, and Denethor is torn. He tries to shoo them off, but catches a glimpse of the paper they hold and curiosity gets the better of him.

When Finduilas runs into the three of them attempting to scale the garden wall at the back of the Steward’s House – and quite by her design is the encounter – there are several moments where all three feign innocence before realizing they’ve been caught.

Because of course she’d known that he helped them before, and had designed her next riddle carefully to see if she could entice him into doing so again.

For the answer to this riddle was indeed over the garden wall, but it was not the expected solution (which involved one of her favorite blooms, called seregon in Sindarin, and a rather clever play on words requiring a nuanced understanding of Steward Beregond’s politics that should have instantly made him realize she knew he’d be helping).

Rather, it was quite a splendid little ‘just because’ picnic waiting for the four of them, with all the jam biscuits Faramir could dream of, and at least four and twenty other lovely things one only discovers on warm afternoons in the presence of those one loves best in all the world.

That's How You Know

((well this is only perfect. modern!verse because))

It was the little things.

The "good morning ferut"s scrawled in the mirror. The absentminded grabbing of his hand to draw a flower or a heart, pen tickling the skin. The random kidnapping for a picnic lunch between classes. The footsie under the table.

The karaoke night when Grantaire had tugged him onstage to serenade him with "Falling For You" was one particularly memorable instance.

And so it was that, six months after they'd started dating, Joly took him to the park, and every tree they went by had R+J carved in it somewhere.

"Thank you so much, bunny. I love you too."

"But I've never said --"

"You didn't have to."

My point was with your phrasing which implied Fantine had forgotten how to appear fine, and had known that before, when before that she was a young street urchin and then working in the country, where it would not have been a concern as it was in the city. And I did say I agreed with the rest. Obviously it wasn't constant grinding misery.

? ?? ?? ?? okay? i interpret her character one way, you do another. i don't know you from adam's housecat, so like, it's all fine. yeah? go have an ice cream or something. i'm gonna eat one with m&ms in it. enjoy the rest of your day.