Anonymous asked: Grantaire and Cyrano de Bergerac
listen i had to google this but now but that’s perfect
and sAD grantaire helping enjolras fall in love with someone else oh nO
grantaire not telling enjolras so he doesn’t lose the image of his eloquent lover
grantaire being selfless for enjolras oH NO
—
Boatman (via defective-titan)
BOATMAN is available on amazon <3
(via latenightcornerstore)
(via latenightcornerstore)
thebaconsandwichofregret asked: *slides $20 across the ask box* what do Alderaanian wife braids look like?
“You should go see Leia.”
Han blinked, startled by the sudden voice, the sudden farmboy-cum-Jedi standing in the doorway and blocking the light. It was after-hours even for the track, he hadn’t been expecting anyone in the pilot’s lounge.
“Hello to you too, Luke,” he drawled, leaning back in the armchair. “Good to see you, been too long, how’s the search for Jedi shit going? Myself? Well, I’m not too bad, bit of a trouble with my joints—getting older’s a rum business, you know? But I can’t complain; complaining’s the business of them who don’t have enough else to do, as I like to say.”
Luke stared balefully at Han, and Han got the sense he was just restraining himself from rolling his eyes. “You’ve never said that before in your life. And also, you should go see Leia.”
“Kid, I know you’re last of the Jedi or whatever these days, but you gotta work on your small talk.”
Luke rolled his eyes. “You are the most frustrating, stubborn—”
“To be fair, you knew that about me already,” Han laughed, stumbling to his feet and crossing the lounge to Luke. With a sigh, Luke let himself be enfolded in a hug.
“Han—”
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you. Is she hurt?” Han asked. (He still wasn’t entirely sure how the Force-thing worked, but he knew Luke and Leia kept tabs on each other, even across the galaxy.) A thought struck, and he sucked in a breath. “Kriff, is it—is it Ben? Is Ben okay?”
“Ben is fine. Leia is fine. She’s just…it’s a politics thing.”
Han exhaled, laughing. “Mother of Kwath, kid, you got me terrified over nothing. I am not the politics guy. Leia has politics guys, I am not them. I’ll give her a comm tonight, but I’m—sure she’s got it handled.”
“It’s about you,” Luke said pointedly, and Han felt cold well in the pit of his stomach. “This time, you are the politics thing.”
“Oh,” Han said.
.
.
“It’s idiotic,” Leia dismissed, when he commed. “Even if—someone’s choice of spouse said anything about their character at all, you are a war hero and a general. You led the assault on Endor! And now you’re an entrepreneur—”
“That’s a lot of syllables for someone who travels around the galaxy, betting on themselves in starship races, sweetheart.”
“The essence of politics is describing things in more syllables than they’re worth,” she bit out, and he laughed, outright. Even over the crappy satellite feed, he could see her relax a little at the sound, breathe out.
She looked so small and very far away, her face on the monitor.
“Do you want me there?” he asked. “Because I can be there—Chewie can take the Falcon, and I’m pretty sure farmboy still remembers his way around a ship if he needs a co-pilot. I could use a vacation.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s fine. I’m fine. You have the Outer Rim qualifier in two weeks, and this is just another stupid fight over something that doesn’t matter. A distraction. Once I get this bill approved, they’ll drop it.”
“Yeah, but—”
Before he could finish, there was a loud clattering sound from her end of the connection, and a shout of “Is that dad? Can I talk to dad?” with Threepio’s fainter, “Master Ben, really!” By the time he’d talked (argued) with Ben and talked (argued) with Leia again, the matter was dropped.
Luke looked up when Han entered he cockpit, smiling a little when Han groaned and let himself sag into the pilot’s seat. “So, about the Outer Rim qualifier—”
“Maybe you don’t know this about me,” Luke said, his tone thoughtful. “But I’m a pretty good pilot. I once flew an x-wing with my eyes closed and blew up the Death Star. So I could probably handle going really fast around a track once or twice.“
“I can see why the Empire decided to kill all the Jedi,” Han grumbled.
.
.
Normally, Han would have arrived on Chandrila at some ungodly hour, shucked off his boots at the door, and crawled into bed beside Leia still smelling of the Falcon, too tired to do much more than mumble against her cheek and pass out.
It was strange to be there in the sunlight, walking up the last of the stairs just as she was emerging from the suite. For a minute, he just watched her—she was on another planet, reading something on her datapad and all her attention focused there; he was still surprised she didn’t bump into walls when she did that.
He’d teased her once that it was the only part of the Force he actually believed in.
Han grabbed her elbow before she could pass him, and she looked up in shock. “You should be careful, Senator,” Han drawled, as she laughed. “I hear there are some real criminal elements in this part of town.”
“Oh, well,” she said, her eyes alight, “they can’t be as shockingly criminal as my husband.”
(Every time she kissed him like this, it was like that first time in the Falcon, his skin aching and hot, more alive than he’d ever been because death and her were staring him down. The kissing wasn’t the reason he left—or the reason he came back—but it was a reason, all the same.)
“Hello, stranger,” she murmured, when they separated.
“Hey,” he said, inhaling the smell of her, whatever product she put in her hair these days—it reminded him of Endor, something sharp and green. “Thought I’d come and apologize for not listening to you in person.”
Her mouth curved. “You never listen to me, I’ve gotten used to it.”
It took about two days for Han to realize it was worse than Luke had let on. He wasn’t sure why everyone suddenly cared about Leia marrying a Corellian bastard of an ex-spice smuggler—the justice who married them had asked if there were any objections five years ago, no one seemed bothered then—but people cared. And he trusted Leia when she said it would stop after the bill, but the bill was being stalled in some committee, and—
“Politics,” Han sighed, when Ben asked why Han was being talked about on the holonews. “It’s all just politics, kid, don’t worry. We’re going to be fine.”
On the third week, when they still weren’t fine, Han put Ben to bed and sat down across from Leia at the dining table. She had datapads spread around her and a pinched look on her face; Han almost balked, but— “Maybe I might be willing to go to some of those parties,” he said. Her gaze snapped up, to him, and he offered a weak smile. “You know, those ones I hate, with the tiny food and the awful people. And maybe I can show your senator friends that…I am that civilized Hero of Endor, and you didn’t screw up, by picking me. You know, if you think that could help.”
“Han—”
“Or, I mean, we could get divorced, but I worked really hard to convince you to marry me in the first place, plus there was a war. I don’t think I’ll get so lucky a second time.”
Leia looked at him for a long, long moment, then exhaled. “Well, we’ll try the first, and if that doesn’t work, there’s always the second option. Maybe you can ask for Threepio in the settlement.”
“Your sense of humor has not improved with time, princess.”
.
.
“You shouldn’t shout you know,” Han said, settling against the doorframe and offering a grin. “My wife wouldn’t be too pleased if she found out I brought a beautiful stranger into our bedroom.”
Leia met his gaze in the mirror and pointedly rolled her eyes. Han stuck out his tongue at her. “I thought you’d be dressed by now,” she said, her mouth twisting. “The party starts in an hour, and—”
“It’ll take me ten minutes to change. I didn’t want to wrinkle anything waiting for you.”
“I’ve seen you preen for forty-five minutes, Solo, don’t lie to me.”
He snorted, watching as she set down her brush and began braiding her hair. He’d always liked her this way, barefoot and unarmored, the most herself she could be. He’d always liked being one of the few allowed to see it. “Did you need me for some reason? I can change into the suit right now if you think of some interesting ways to put wrinkles in it.”
“Just you hand,” she interrupted, shooting him another look. Her hands were still moving, doing something complicated with the strands she had gathered at the top of her skull. He crossed the room to her side, “Put your index finger…here,” she said, tapping a place where the strands wove together. He pressed his finger in exactly that place, and she wove the hair around it, like a ring. “Take your hand away? And—then thumb in the divot over my ear.”
“Okay,” Han said quietly.
There was something steadying about it, just her soft directions, and him, and their hands. He’d watched her do this before, braid and coil and brush and knot—the traditional art of Alderaan, passed down from mother to daughter. They each had meanings, and Han knew some of them; the circlet interwoven with a lace was her imitation of the crown of Alderaan, and when she wore that high coil of braids, it meant she was grieving.
(What about when you wear it loose like this? he’d asked once, when he was pouring it through his fingers like water. He liked it best down, a veil around her shoulders.
Nothing, she had said. This is just me.)
“I haven’t seen this one before, have I?” he asked when she was finished, touching the soft honeycomb cluster behind her ear, looping to an equally complex knot on the other side. It took him a moment to realize that the twisting coils were the size of his fingers, left over of his hands.
“No, I haven’t—done this one before,” Leia said quietly, smoothing back a flyaway strand with her fingertips.
“I’m surprised,” Han chuckled. “Would have though you had plenty use for braids that say you’re ready to fight.”
“These aren’t braids for fighting,” Leia said. She wasn’t quite meeting Han’s gaze in the mirror, and he thought he saw a blush. “My mother wore these each year on her wedding anniversary. These are—the traditional name is ‘the work of loved hands’ but they’re better known as wife’s knots. They’re one of the few styles that is unique to every wearer, because it requires two sets of hands.”
Han couldn’t think of what to say, if there was anything to say. He wanted to kiss her, but he didn’t trust himself. He felt like he’d get lost in it too easily, let the whole world and everything in it slip away because she was there, with wife’s knots in her hair.
“I didn’t screw up, picking you,” Leia said, rising to her feet. When she turned, her expression was fierce, stern. She’d ordered men into battle with that expression. “And either way, I did pick you. I’m keeping you, and there’s nothing the New Republic can do about it.
“Now,” she said, “get changed. The party starts in an hour.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Han said quietly, and followed her out.
For @littlestartopaz, with the prompt “Your technomancer has a nightmare about the electric-user and decides checking on her is the best way to calm down. But the electric user wakes up before she can leave.”
All right kids quick rundown of the shit you need to know (because these are characters from one of the as-yet-untitled novels I’m writing, not fandom-access characters). It’s set in a near future where…basically Trump wins the presidency and sets himself up as a dictator. We’re about 18 years down the line from the guy (Stone) getting elected and shit’s gone to hell in a pretty big way. People are getting deported, people are reporting their neighbors to the police, whole families are vanishing overnight. If you’re LGBT, non-white, non-Christian, an immigrant, or an outspoken supporter of any of those things, you’re in deep shit and a candidate for being disappeared. The novel revolves around Max, who is part of a rebel organization called Polaris (largely made up of the people listed above) and who is one of a few people who’ve started to pop up with superhuman abilities. The existence of these people—she calls them ‘blues’ and since she was the first one Polaris found, they go with it—is pretty much an urban legend, largely because the government has that shit on lock. Max’s ability allows her to manipulate technology with her mind and make it do…basically whatever she wants. Her (eventual) girlfriend Lessa Stone is the daughter of the Trump-equivalent dictator, who broke Max out of a holding cell and joined Polaris. Lessa, besides being gay as FUCK, is also a blue, with the ability to generate a massive electrical current in her body and project it as lightning bolts. So basically I’m writing a novel that can be summarized as “girlfriends with superpowers join a cast of LGBT people and PoC to smash the patriarchy.” This snippet takes place sometime between Lessa joining Polaris and the two of them getting together properly (Lessa has Some Issues to sort out regarding her sexuality, shockingly).
I shuddered awake, panting. The room was black around me, nothing to reorient myself, and my hands shook as I reached out and fumbled with the lamp on the floor next to my cot until the bulb flared to life.
Reblog for the next day even though I posted this at a perfectly reasonable hour because Adler told me to start doing that. And she has learned that if you needle me about my writing until I’m really flustered and then immediately hit me with a command about my writing, the command gets followed.
but listen rey and finn would be drift compatible.
#*would be* = are. #they flew the garbage jaeger and pulled a engine stall crazy ivan #with no prep except the words ‘get ready’ #yeah.
(via princehal9000)
sometimes i think a lot about what would have happened if sirius had actually been exonerated at the end of book 3 and harry had gone to live with him and also snape kept his mouth shut and remus kept his job
- in the time between sirius being cleared and the end of the school year, sirius starts an intensive course of physical and mental therapy
- sirius picking harry up from king’s cross
- i know it’s not canon that sirius was an auror after graduating hogwarts but i really like to think he was
- anyway once he passes a psych eval he’s reinstated as an auror
- kingsley is his partner; they trained together back in the day
- it takes kingsley a while but he gets over “sirius black escaped convict and former death eater” and they grow to have a really strong partnership
- the rest of the aurors follow suit
- the head of the auror office (is it scrimgeour at this point? probably) forming a task force to find pettigrew
- sirius wanting to be assigned to that task force but being denied because it’s such a huge conflict of interest
- sirius picking up harry from king’s cross when school gets out
- both of them really nervous but smiling really big
- sirius got a new flat in london in the same neighborhood as his bachelor pad but this one with enough room for both him and harry (and a room that is ostensibly a guest room but really remus uses it all the time that summer)
- (he tries to get sirius to let him help with rent and sirius says no because it’s a guest room, remus, you’re a guest, and guests don’t pay rent)
- harry spending a lot of time with remus that summer while sirius works
- sirius and remus and harry going to the quidditch world cup
- ron staying with them in their tent
- they get to the top box and they’re in front of the malfoys and sirius just kind of smirks at lucius
- sirius’s heart in his throat when he can’t find harry after they’ve gotten the muggles down
- sirius almost physically attacking barty crouch for accusing harry of casting the dark mark in the forest
- (sirius almost physically attacking barty crouch a lot, tbqh)
- sirius trying to be gruff and cheerful when he drops harry off at king’s cross on september first, and thinking about meeting james on that same train 23 years ago
- hugging harry tightly but quickly, and harry gripping the back of sirius’s jacket
- sirius worried but knowing that remus will look after harry at school
- because of how slowly the wheels of justice move, pettigrew’s trial isn’t held until after harry is back at school
- remus is there too because they’re both testifying witnesses
- it’s a rough day
- sirius wondering for a moment if azkaban is a place he’d wish on anyone, even wormtail
- then remembering what it felt like to open the door to the cottage at godric’s hollow and seeing james’s body
- there on the floor
- remus pulls a block of chocolate out of his pocket and hands it to sirius
- and then i honestly think sirius would have found a way to get harry out of the triwizard tournament, even if it meant kidnapping the kid
- now i’m sad
(Source: bengaliprincess, via academicfeminist)
Vodka Tia Moran