They declared Brad officially KIA on the third Tuesday of October.
Coalition forces looked for him after the ambush, hopeful that if anyone could survive, it was a recon Marine. That hope flickered, day by day, until three months finally snuffed it out. Eventually they called it: Brad Colbert's final mission was a total loss.
Two weeks later, a FedEx envelope showed up at Nate's office. As the sealed note inside slid into Nate's hand, his gut dropped out.
He'd recognize the hastily-scrawled "Nate Fick" anywhere; Brad wrote this.
2 days ago
"There can be great men, but not perfect men,” Enjolras says, but kindly. “The human condition does not allow for it. And only a perfect man can be permitted autocracy.”
18 days ago
Draco is an accomplished pure-blood curse breaker, and Harry is tasked with accompanying him on his latest job—cleaning up the Van Boer mansion, which has been under a devastating fertility curse for seven generations.
25 days ago
After his leap into the Seine, Javert finds himself back in Montreuil-sur-Mer on the morning of his first appointment with M. Madeleine. He soon discovers that while his choices can change the outcome of things, nothing can stop death from delivering him back to that same morning.
Now he has to defeat the game of fate or keep returning to 1820, eternally dying without finding peace.
26 days ago
“When a king has been annihilated by the people,” Grantaire says eventually, his tone now less steady, “who has the right to resuscitate him in order to make of him a new pretext for rebellion?”
Enjolras steps off the bed and gets on his knees.
26 days ago
She despises him, but she's worried about suffocating him anyway, and Grantaire could live off that for months. He's not sure what resemblance it has to love, the love the poets sing of; what he feels for Enjolras is something that makes him dream about grovelling at her feet and kissing the sole of the shoe that kicks him.
He doesn't even fucking have a foot fetish.
27 days ago
"It was an apple tart, Monsieur," Javert says, "from an anonymous sender. A--woman." At this, he flushes. It seems preposterous that someone would so want to win his heart that she would resort to this. Clearly it was some misguided attempt at manipulation. "I didn't have the chance to eat it until I was here. Forgive me, Monsieur, I should have known better, and now I bring dishonor to us both."
27 days ago
"What are you doing?" Grantaire had demanded, when he could find his tongue, and Enjolras had shrugged, let the waistcoat drop, and begun on his shirt buttons.
"Your price. Didn't we agree?"
28 days ago
Valjean pulls Javert up out of dark waters.
"No," Valjean says, but Javert knows that he has planted the possibility – Valjean shoving aside the bedclothes and rucking up his nightshirt and the grim slap of flesh on flesh and those hard convict's eyes boring into the back of his neck, Valjean's breath on the back of his neck again, and –
The rush of blood southward catches him almost by surprise. He hopes Valjean does not notice the change in his eyes, the startled swallow. He always hopes too much. To see where he stands Valjean need only glance at the bedclothes.
This, Javert thinks, the thoughts leaden in his stomach. This, this, this is what becomes of you without the prop of your law. This is where your thoughts slink – vile and filthy, back to the gutter, this is the slimy rind that's left of you –"
28 days ago
Javert calls what he thinks is Valjean's bluff about needing three days to find the child Cosette and intercede for her. The Inspector comes along for the ride -- and gets much more than he bargained for, in the process.
28 days ago
When Grantaire's usual club closes for relocation, he's forced to look elsewhere to find people who share his kinks. And who should he find in the first club he tries but the chief himself?
29 days ago
He’s always wary of making assumptions; even more so when Grantaire is concerned. He knows he’s not the easiest person to deal with. People either like him or can’t stand him, and it’s easy to respond to those reactions, but Grantaire—Grantaire is hostile and mocking, Grantaire scorns his beliefs, and Grantaire stays.
4 weeks ago
Javert/Valjean - hatesex that becomes a genuine relationship.
From the prompt: Javert recognises Madeline as Valjean from the moment they meet, but they both know that any accusation would come down to his word against that of a respected businessman. So Javert goes about his duties and waits for Valjean to slip up, while Valjean goes about his life and waits for Javert to denounce him.
Of course it would all be so much easier if they didn't have to see each other every day.
4 weeks ago
For most of college, Grantaire was hopeless over Enjolras, and everyone but Enjolras knew it. Now he’s worked to get over his crush, and for the most part, he's fine. When Combeferre asks him to choreograph and dance in the Midsummer Night’s Dream-inspired opera he composed as his senior thesis, Grantaire says yes, even though he’s cast opposite Enjolras, as Puck to his Oberon. The chance to dance is worth the potential problems, and he'll have his friends as a buffer.
He doesn't count on long hours of practicing and choreographing and talking together, while they try to figure each other and their futures out. As much as he tries to avoid it, it seems inevitable that he falls for Enjolras again, and this time it isn't a crush.
4 weeks ago
John Stilinski would like it noted, for the record, that this werewolf business is bullshit.
He would also sleep better if he wasn't so perceptive.
4 weeks ago
It's been eighteen months since the protest that nearly killed them all, and eighteen months since Grantaire swore off Paris forever. Coming back to town for some friends' wedding was never part of the plan, and Paris is either a dream or an oven, he can't tell which.
5 weeks ago
With great effort, Laurent said, “There was a rumour.”
Damen waited, and then prompted, “Yes?”
Laurent exhaled, agitated. “They said you were just as likely to bed a man who held up against you in the arena as you were a pretty maid.”
Damen released Laurent from his grasp. It was not what he had expected to hear.
5 weeks ago
In which Jim finds himself fake-married to his first officer every other month. It's not his fault. Mostly. Dowries and Klingons are involved. Starfleet is decidedly not amused.
5 weeks ago
So perhaps it does not seem so strange to the worshippers of Besź and Ul Qoma that others hover nearby at the edge of their vision, like angels present but unseen.
7 weeks ago
Look, Stiles knows he’s not really part of the pack, but really? He wishes the others aside from Scott and Allison would stay a little more up to date on what’s going on his life beyond how it affects them.
8 weeks ago
"I weep for my party."
Nate had to read the text again just to make sure he was seeing that right.
But no, his initial assessment was correct: Brad Colbert was texting him after thirteen years of silence. Or near enough to count, anyway. The odd update email to the whole group couldn't be considered anything other than polite distance, one Nate had also maintained. It had seemed...easier.
10 weeks ago
By the eighth time John Sheppard married Rodney McKay, they were old pros at the wedding thing, having weathered not only an Ouishan blood wedding, but also a twelve-hour Avalonian handfasting, a Malanese necklace exchange, and a Thurtu joining ceremony that invoked a fire god and featured seven kinds of cake.
11 weeks ago
"Rodney's my desert island guy," he says finally, because it's the simplest, truest thing he can say: if there's one person he gets to keep with him, he chooses McKay. It's as simple as that.
11 weeks ago
"Don't shoot!" Rodney yelled, leaping up, onto his knees, and waving his hands, afraid that Sheppard was going to blow his alter-ego to blazes. "He's me! I think!"
11 weeks ago
Caroll, Franklin R. Atlantis Revisited. New York and London, Routledge, 2011.
Chapman, Denise. Several Kinds of Genius: The Life of Rodney McKay. NY: Harper Perennial, 2015.
Croft, Rosalind. City of Spires: A Memoir. Toronto: The Mercury Press, 2009.
Dugan, Paul. A Political History of Atlantis. Oxford: OUP, 2012.
11 weeks ago
One would think that having the name of one's soulmate appear on one's wrist on one's sixteenth birthday would make matrimony much less complicated. It mostly does not. And not at all for Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourne.
(A deconstruction of the "soulmate identifying mark" trope, using "Pride and Prejudice." Trigger warnings in the tags.)
11 weeks ago
He was an intelligent, intuitive pet, but he wasn’t going to start sniffing out ZPMs or hidden Ancient weaponry or detailed instructions on how to kill a Wraith with a common household item. A pen, for instance.
James and Miranda rescue Thomas from Bethlem. This was supposed to solve all their problems.
As it turns out, things are more complicated than that.
Every time Victor prodded his side, Yuuri would just look at Victor with the tiniest, cruelest tip of a smile on the corner of his mouth. It was awful. It took all of Victor’s self-control not to launch himself forward and kiss that smile until it was nice again.
But Victor hadn’t kissed Yuuri yet. It was a line he was afraid to cross.
Single Use Weapon is a fic I always return to, it's so very much my perfect ending for Kings, so I'd love to see a timestamp for it set after Jack takes his place as David's advisor.
[Set after 'Single Use Weapon' http://archiveofourown.org/works/8049262]
Derek has said two fucking words to him after almost eight years, and Stiles can't stop obsessing about it.
Stiles is trying to cope with the surprise arrival of a daughter he never knew about, and Derek Hale insinuating himself into his life again isn't helping. Honestly.
And there's that ache, and there's that sweetness, and lord, James really would swear in the eyes of God that he cannot bear to live without him, wouldn't he?
Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder: a triptych.
James thinks of Thomas. He thinks: Thomas ought to know about this. Thomas would be interested in that. Thomas would enjoy this. Thomas would smile were he to hear about that. Thomas would appreciate the taste of this. Thomas would look well in that.
On occasion, however, James tries not to think of Thomas. One such occasion is when James is fucking Thomas' wife.
He is not altogether successful.
“Tell me about yourself, Lieutenant,” Miranda says, smiling at him over a spoonful of soup. “Thomas says your father was a carpenter. Are you from London?”
Thomas half expects James’s shoulders to stiffen, his chin to jut out; he has a sneaking suspicion that if he had asked the same question, that’s exactly how James would’ve reacted. Instead, though he still holds himself so warily, he answers, easily enough, “A carpenter’s mate, ma'am.”
“Is there a difference?” Miranda asks, genuine, truly wanting to know.
“Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart.” -Marcus Aurelius
Miranda and Thomas Hamilton, the early years, and the man who eventually completes them.
When they flee London, none of them realize that Miranda is pregnant, and when she realizes, she will stop at nothing to have her family back.
[Part 1 of 'Four For a Boy Verse' https://archiveofourown.org/series/630710]
Agamemnon, Hennessey thinks, was a lucky bastard.
After all - he never had to apologize to Iphigenia.
[Part 2 of 'Four For a Boy Verse' https://archiveofourown.org/series/630710]
Victor had wanted to be the Japanese competitor's dance partner, and he could because he didn't have one. Victor had also wanted to be Katsuki Yuuri's coach, and he could because Katsuki didn't have one of those either.
Now Victor wanted to be Yuuri's boyfriend- except Yuuri already seemed to have one of those.
Basically, Victor thinks Phichit is Yuuri's boyfriend and is ridiculously jealous.
Theomedes wakes from his long illness to find that one of his sons is dead, the other has become a man, and some cheeky Veretian upstart has taken up residence in his palace. Post Kings Rising AU.
So his new partner was surprisingly not completely un-attractive, for a human. Gavin Hayes had impressive aptitude scores, and a friendly smile, and eyes sharp as winter currents, taking in the station and remembering names and details with an ease that belied his causal charm. All things that transcended species boundaries and general integumentary inadequacies.
It didn’t mean Sezin found him sexy.
"What was it like?" Yuuri asks. The scrape of his skates is slow and gentle on the ice, and Viktor looks up to watch him come near. He stops inches away, eyes fixed on the stands. "To be in front of thousands of people? To hear them shouting your name?"
Viktor looks at him, this beautiful man he's somehow found on the other side of the world in a town that doesn't exist, and says, "It was marvelous."
Viktor Nikiforov has neglected life and love for over seventy years. Fighting a losing battle with illness, he takes up residence in what is known as a twilight town. In a city on the sea built of dreams and memories, he meets another dying man.
Viktor tries wooing Yuuri. Yuuri will not be wooed. And then there's the small matter of Viktor being a Russian master criminal art thief extraordinaire, Yuuri being the Interpol agent assigned to handle him, and the imminent theft of a hundred million dollar painting.
He’s a slim, too-pretty boy of twenty, and the men of this particular underworld talk about him as though he’s an open flame, a sparking engine near a pool of gasoline: volatile, and not to be handled. Kid’s got balls of sheer fucking steel, Damen’s contact said.
Which must be true, because having just lost a race against Damen for pink slips, Laurent looks him straight in the eye and says, “Double or nothing?” in a voice like vodka poured straight from the freezer.
"Double or nothing," said Webster abruptly.
"How exactly do you mean to double 'everything I had?'" said Ash. He meant it to come out level, but there was a quaver in his voice.
"One more trick," Webster said. "Play, and win or lose you will walk away with your fortune." Ash stared at him. Webster made an impatient gesture. "I don't want or need your money. Or your house. Or your coat and shirt, come to that."
It was an offer of princely generosity. Ash's mouth was dry. "And what would you have from me?" he asked.
Something flared in Webster's cool expression for a moment, like a shark flashing a fin in still waters. "A month," he said.
“Missing your boy, Little Red?” Rachel Sunborn asked.
“No,” Elliot said. He was not. He was independent and self-assured and didn’t care if all his friends were off at a tournament without him, throwing things at people for a week for absolutely no good reason and probably getting themselves killed.
Or: Five times someone suggested Elliot or Luke sleep with someone else, and one time they didn’t need to.
Laurence and Temeraire have been living with Tharkay for a scant two weeks when Laurence sends Granby a letter that essentially boils down to hi John how did you know you're gay also plz help I am in trouble.
“I have been thinking,” Laurent says, “About your plans to abolish slavery.”
Five weeks in Ios. Five weeks Laurent has, to sow the seeds of their shared kingdom.
He begins with the slavery issue.
The Katsuki-Nikiforov family as it grows, one pregnancy test and one prayer and one airport bathroom quickie and one kiss and one faulty vasectomy and one baby at a time.
Yuuri wakes up in Victor’s room the night after the Sochi Grand Prix Final banquet. Did they sleep together? No. Instead, last night, Drunk Yuuri taunted Victor that he hadn’t earned the right to get in his pants…and spelled out exactly what Victor would have to do to get there.
Now, Victor intends to do everything on that list…
“The conversation,” Victor says, “went something like this. You said I wasn’t getting in your pants that easily.”
Victor says this in a normal tone of voice. Anyone could hear him. Yuuri looks around, but if anyone is paying attention, they’re pretending not to.
“Naturally, I asked what I would have to do to get in your pants.”
“Ah.” Yuuri blushes. “How embarrassing. What do you mean, naturally? Why would you ask that?”
Victor tilts his head. “Because I want to get in your pants. I thought that much was obvious by now.”
Victor and Yuuri enjoy the summer festival in Hasetsu. Where Yuuri can't resist the treats of the festival, Victor gives in entirely to his own favourite indulgence.
(Fill for a kink meme prompt that requested 40-ish Victor/Canon Age Yuuri.)
Victor finds Yuuri much later in his life - he falls in love just the same.
Draco Malfoy isn't the average first choice for a hero sent back in time to save the world. Narcissa Malfoy, slightly surprised to see the grown man her eleven-year-old son could be, isn't the average first choice for his Horcrux-hunting partner either. Honestly, they're supposed to be on the other side in all this business.
But it cannot be denied that they're very efficient, especially given their quest is relegated to Narcissa's free time and Draco is relegated to a guest wing bedroom so his father and younger self don't interfere. Nor can it be denied that if the Dark Lord isn't going to show them loyalty and victory, then... well... Family First, after all.
He's sitting in a car with all of his belongings in the back seat and his hands wrapped around the steering wheel, admitting to himself that a stupid, dizzy firework of a one-night-stand with a man he'd barely known is one of the only bright memories he has right now.
[In which Enjolras and Grantaire make some music, make some terrible decisions, and make a habit out of doing everything in the wrong order.]
In the economy of chess, victory is not about numbers, but about space. You don't lose when you have the lowest number of pieces. You lose when you have nowhere left to run.
Laurent's thoughts, from Captive Prince to Kings Rising.
Stiles hasn't seen or heard from Derek in ten years. It's a bit of a surprise to find out about Derek's return to Beacon Hills through Tinder.
"You're certainly fast-tracking through the ranks, Commander Shafer," said Commander Woodsinger. "Shall I bring you the maps so you can plan the protection detail for our voyage back? I do hope the bed is comfortable, by the way."
It’s just…does Viktor not get bored with doing it the same way every night? Doesn’t he want to spice things up? Is Yuuri being unreasonable? He’s pretty sure that if Viktor told him his performance in bed was unsatisfying his soul would flee his body for a more merciful plane of existence, but…Viktor is thicker-skinned than he is.
And so here they are. Viktor’s bed is wide and soft, and Yuuri is lying there with wet hair and ratty boxers while Viktor absently trails kisses over his shoulder. It’s nice. It’s soft. It’s good. Viktor’s headboard is enormous and Yuuri keeps thinking about Viktor’s wrists bound to it, black rope over white skin. Fuck. He should say something.
Yuuri Katsuki has his first and only breakup, and reacts the only way he knows how: board a starship and live out the rest of his life in outer space, millions of light years from the home planet he loves.
Suffice to say, it doesn't work.
Peter Grant is a contestant on The Great British Bake Off 2016, Thomas Nightingale is its famously stoic, poker-faced judge. The nation’s running commentary is their background soundtrack as they flirt onscreen. It’s gonna be a very long ten weeks.
“Let me see?” Carla leaned over his arm to look at his phone. “Who’s that in your wallpaper? Isn’t that the guy you were getting all those pictures of?”
Yuuri sucked in a breath, fully prepared to undergo the humiliation of having to explain who Viktor Nikiforov was and fully aware that every time he talked about Viktor, he gave people the impression that there was something definitely wrong with him.
“Who is he, a friend?” Carla nudged him in the side with her elbow. Yuuri moved away. “Your boyfriend?”
“Well—” How to explain, Yuuri thought, that he was a Viktor Nikiforov stan and that photographs of Viktor cuddling his poodle always made him smile, without looking creepy? “He’s, uh…”
“Oh my god,” Carla said. Her mouth dropped open. “You have a boyfriend. Is that why you keep turning down dates? You should have said! And here I am hitting on you like an idiot. Oh, man, James is going to die, he’s been trying to get you to have dinner with him for like two semesters, he thought he was wearing you down! Yuuri. You are such a heartbreaker.”
While Victor wanders off to rummage in the bathroom for the designated makeup towel, because of course they have those, Yuuri starts putting everything away. Mila can't imagine doing this all on her own. Foundation, setting powder, bronzer—all of this stuff. He leaves a tube of lipstick and a lip liner pencil out on the counter.
"Did you forget those?" she says when Yuuri starts closing up the train case.
"Ah," Yuuri says. "No, they're mine. I wear them sometimes. At home."
Mila says, "Can I put them on you?"
Three weeks earlier, during a Skype session with Phichit equally fuelled by Victor’s hideously expensive vodka and Yuuri’s crushing loneliness at Victor being away for more than twelve hours, Yuuri decided he was going to give Victor the best Christmas/Birthday of his life. With sex coupons.
(“This is the best idea you’ve ever had,” Phichit said.
“I,” Yuuri slurred, with all the certainty of a drunk man pawning off his actions on the victim of his sober self, “am a genius. Someone give me a Nobel Peace Prize. Homemade sex coupons will save the world.”
“Absolutely.” Phichit said thousands of miles away in a different timezone watching Yuuri make five different coupons for “whatever you want to do with my feet.” “Someone give this man yet another gold medal.” )
In the end, it was Sober Yuuri that made the terrible miscalculation of using the same adorable poodle wrapping paper for Yuri and Victor’s gifts. Presently he’s moved on from googling “how to build a time machine” to “demon pacts????? Can I make one?????”
Yuuri accidentally mixes up Victor and Yurio's gifts. It goes about as well as you'd expect.
“We live in a blue planet that circles around a ball of fire next to a moon that moves the sea, and you don’t believe in miracles?”
After an academic career at MIT and Oxford, Yuuri Katsuki eschews job offers at places like NASA and CERN to go work at the Very Large Array in what Phichit Chulanont lovingly calls The Actual Middle of Nowhere, New Mexico, monitoring radio frequencies from light-years away. He's loved the stars for as long as he can remember, and the universe feels so big sometimes that Yuuri is sure it would be a cruel mistake for humans to be all alone.
Enter the latest scientist to join the staff of the VLA, enigmatic Russian genius Victor Nikiforov, around whom Yuuri’s entire universe seems to bend to make room, and the strange, recurring dreams Yuuri keeps having, where something like love carries him across the stars.
Does love travel faster than light? Do souls?
“The cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff. We are a way for the universe to know itself.”
It’s an embarrassing cliché, I know, but there was an actual basket, made of what looked to be actual wicker, actually sitting there. It was oval and large and had spaces for handholds on either end; for a minute, I thought it was full of laundry, and my mind spun an image of a ghost laundress. Then the small hand emerged from the basket, waved around for a minute, and smacked down again.
In one universe, Viktor asks Yuuri to sleep with him on his first night in Hasetsu and gets rejected.
In another, he doesn't. This happens instead.
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