Poem Monday!
Mar. 27th, 2016 10:16 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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truthwritaslies and today's theme is Poems! Prompts are poetic quotations!
Just a few rules:
No more than five prompts in a row.
No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
Use the character's full names and fandom's full name for ease adding to the Lonely Prompts spreadsheet.
No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing, or use the spoiler cut option found here.
If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space, or use the above mentioned spoiler cut.
Prompts should be formatted as follows: [Use the character's full names and fandom's full name]
Fandom, Character +/ Character, Prompt
Some examples to get the ball rolling...
+ Supernatural, Dean Winchester,
Then—in my childhood—in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still—
"Alone", Edgar Allan Poe
+ Hamilton, Any+/Any,
When you come back, return the way you came.
Favors will be returned, debts will be repaid.
Do not forget your manners.
Do not look back.
-"Instructions" Neil Gaiman
+DC, Any Robin or Ex-Robin +/Any,
A robin red breast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.
-"Auguries of Innocence" William Blake
We are now using AO3 to bookmark filled prompts. If you fill a prompt and post it to AO3 please add it to the Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2016 collection. See further notes on this new option here.
Not feeling any of today’s prompts? Check out the just created Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet. For more recent prompts to write, you can also use LJ’s advanced search options to limit keyword results to only comments in this community.
While the Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet and LJ's advanced search options are available, bookmarking the links of prompts you like might work better for searching for in the future.
truthwritaslies and today's theme is Poems! Prompts are poetic quotations!Just a few rules:
No more than five prompts in a row.
No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
Use the character's full names and fandom's full name for ease adding to the Lonely Prompts spreadsheet.
No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing, or use the spoiler cut option found here.
If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space, or use the above mentioned spoiler cut.
Prompts should be formatted as follows: [Use the character's full names and fandom's full name]
Fandom, Character +/ Character, Prompt
Some examples to get the ball rolling...
+ Supernatural, Dean Winchester,
Then—in my childhood—in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still—
"Alone", Edgar Allan Poe
+ Hamilton, Any+/Any,
When you come back, return the way you came.
Favors will be returned, debts will be repaid.
Do not forget your manners.
Do not look back.
-"Instructions" Neil Gaiman
+DC, Any Robin or Ex-Robin +/Any,
A robin red breast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.
-"Auguries of Innocence" William Blake
We are now using AO3 to bookmark filled prompts. If you fill a prompt and post it to AO3 please add it to the Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2016 collection. See further notes on this new option here.
Not feeling any of today’s prompts? Check out the just created Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet. For more recent prompts to write, you can also use LJ’s advanced search options to limit keyword results to only comments in this community.
While the Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet and LJ's advanced search options are available, bookmarking the links of prompts you like might work better for searching for in the future.
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no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 05:17 am (UTC)Then—in my childhood—in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still—
-"Alone", Edgar Allan Poe
no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 05:18 am (UTC)When you come back, return the way you came.
Favors will be returned, debts will be repaid.
Do not forget your manners.
Do not look back.
-"Instructions" Neil Gaiman
no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 05:18 am (UTC)A robin red breast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.
-"Auguries of Innocence" William Blake
Spoiler tag used because poem may be triggering to people with self-harm issues.
Date: 2016-03-28 05:27 am (UTC)Let us call now for the makers of strong images,
Let them come to us now carrying their quills and sharp razors
Let them gash their arms for ink and let them limn.
Look at them tracing their desperation, the makers of strong images
Look at their ink clotting brown and black on the parchment skin
Look: they render us down there limb from limb
Like dreamers they will reduce us in the rendering,
Like ash and fat to soap we are reduced to our essentials
(Like a shadow who stares at us with eyes of flesh)
Let them entertain us, the makers of strong images
Let us toss them copper pennies.
But let us not forget, They make the images.
We give them flesh
-"Song of the Audience" Neil Gaiman
no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 05:33 am (UTC)One with mysterious gaze that sees beyond
The straining suns, calm as the voidness there;
And one with eyes like deserts of despair,
Flameless as granite, clear as diamond.
-"The Sphinx And The Medusa" Clark Ashton Smith
no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 08:33 am (UTC)Ripe plums are dropping,
I lay them in a shallow basket.
May a fine lover come for me
Tell me his name.
(from the Shih-ching (Book of Songs))
Fill
Date: 2016-03-28 03:10 pm (UTC)One for father when he's cold
One for mother when she's old
One for a lover whose love is foretold...
Lennier nearly drops the plum he has chosen when a voice rings out next to him.
"So you're Delenn's errand boy."
Lennier straightened to his full height, and turned to stare at the person who spoke so rudely and familiarly of Ambassador Delenn. He is privately dismayed to find it's one of the Human Warrior caste.
"Yes, I am Aide to Ambassador Delenn. What can I help you with...?" And Lennier is not a little pleased to see the man squirm under his implied rebuke. He's not. .... He'll have to meditate about this later.
"Woah, yeah, no offence meant, I'm just trying to put names to faces before the shitstorm starts." The man runs a hand over his balding head and lets out a long huff of breath. "Anyway, I'm Michael Garibaldi, head of security on this old rust bucket."
"Lennier."
"Well, Lennier, I'd love to stay and chat some more but that fellow over there just picked a fight with the wrong species and I need to get over there before it gets ugly." Then Michael Garibaldi is striding away and Lennier feels an uncomfortable pang of loss.
Lennier frowns subtly and puts the plum he's still holding into his basket. He pays the vendor and leaves. It won't be until the incident with the motorcycle that Lennier will understand that he had just met the lover the plums foretold.
RE: Fill
From:Re: Fill
From:no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 08:36 am (UTC)(Dirty Valentine - Richard Siken)
no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 08:36 am (UTC)Clownlike, happiest on your hands,
Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled,
Gilled like a fish.
(You're - Sylvia Plath)
no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 08:37 am (UTC)my lips crack
under your seraphic teeth
and you swallow the blood
(Requiescat - Catherynne Valente)
no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 08:38 am (UTC)I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
(Sonnet XI - Pablo Neruda)
filled
Date: 2016-04-05 10:39 am (UTC)Hal swallows and feels his adam's apple press against Sinestro's fingers, grins when Sinestro's eyes widen.
"You really are insane," Hal laughs. "I haven't done a goddamn thing to you."
"Yes," Sinestro growls, tightens his hand on Hal's throat. "Ever since -- ever since you put your dreadful mouth on me, I've hardly been able to concentrate on flying, much less fighting off the hordes of Red Lanterns trying to take us out."
"What," Hal says, squirming beneath Sinestro's gaze, flexing his throat against the hand still pressed tight there. "Are you even talking about?"
"You," Sinestro snaps and crushes Hal's mouth with his in the most violent, angry kiss Hal's ever experienced. He wouldn't be surprised if Sinestro pulls away with blood on his lips. "Ever since -- I crave you, Jordan. The taste of your mouth, the sounds you make when I touch you, the way your hair feels when I twist it around my fingers."
"Oh."
"No, not oh," Sinestro snaps again, lets go of Hal's throat and looks like he's going to pull what little hair he has out of his head. "I can hardly sleep, you fool. I do not wish to eat. All I want is --"
"Me," Hal grins and it just gets bigger when Sinestro just turns to look at him, his gaze pointedly falling on Hal's mouth, and huffs.
"It seems so," he says, then steps forward again, cups Hal's cheek and stares down into his eyes. "So tell me," he says. "What have you done to me, Jordan?"
"It's called a blowjob," Hal smirks. "Don't feel bad. I've been told I'm pretty good at them."
"You do this..." Sinestro begins, struggling for words. "Often?"
"Mm," Hal says, dragging his hand down Sinestro's chest, stopping just at the waist of his pants. "I love it."
Sinestro raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn't, Hal notices, stop his hand from going lower.
"You love being put on your knees?" He asks, his breath only slightly hitching when Hal squeezes him through his clothing. "Having your mouth -- ah filled up and..."
"Fucked," Hal leans in and whispers in his ear, feels Sinestro shudder against him and grins against his throat, dragging his teeth over the magenta skin.
"Jordan," Sinestro breathes out, threads his fingers through Hal's hair and tugs. "You should --"
"Yeah," Hal mumbles, then slides to his knees, puts his hands on Sinestro's thighs and looks up at him. "Just don't be so fucking gentle this time, okay?"
Sinestro swallows back a groan. This ridiculous human is going to be the death of him one wayor another, that he's sure of.
RE: filled
From:RE: filled
From:no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 09:04 am (UTC)So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
- "Nothing Gold Can Stay" by Robert Frost
no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 09:27 am (UTC)I have named you queen.
There are taller than you, taller.
There are purer than you, purer.
There are lovelier than you, lovelier.
But you are the queen.
- "The Queen" by Pablo Neruda
no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 10:25 am (UTC)No mortal eye could see
The intimate welding of their later history
~Lines on the Loss of the Titanic, Thomas Hardy
no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 10:43 am (UTC)You are like me, you will die too, but not today:
you, incommensurate, therefore the hours shine
Reginald Shepherd
no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 10:47 am (UTC)He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.
Khalil Gibran
Fill 1/2: math nerd!John AU
Date: 2016-03-29 01:43 am (UTC)“Welcome, Mrs. Miller.” Dr. Weir offered a hand. Jeannie shook it cautiously.
“Thank you,” Jeannie said.
“This is Major Teldy,” Dr. Weir said, gesturing to the female soldier. “She’s the military commander of this expedition.”
Teldy was tall, lean, and pretty, and looked like she brooked no nonsense. Jeannie wondered how she got along with Rodney.
“Hi, I’m John Sheppard,” the other soldier said. He had bright blue eyes, neat dark hair.
Jeannie offered him a hand. “Hi, John,” she said, which felt a little odd, because he hadn’t introduced himself with his rank.
He shook her hand briefly and then said, “I’m Major Lorne. I’m Dr. Sheppard’s interpreter,” and he was signing while he spoke, and...oh.
Jeannie offered the real John a hand. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize -”
Lorne’s hands were flying as she spoke.
Sheppard smiled gently, shook her hand, and then signed, lips moving silently, “No worries. I’m going to assume Rodney didn’t tell you, in all his enthusiasm about your theorem.”
“Tell me what?” Jeannie turned to her brother. “Mer?”
“John’s my boyfriend,” Rodney said, so quickly Jeannie almost didn’t catch it.
She blinked. “What?” She’d always known her brother was bisexual, knew he’d dated men here and there, but this was new. And John was so attractive.
“I’m not ashamed of you,” Rodney began quickly, signing as he spoke to John, and he was good at it. Fluid. Practiced.
“I get it,” John said through Major Lorne, “you were pretty excited when you saw what she’d written. I was pretty impressed myself. I’m a mathematician, too. Looked over your numbers. Graeme Peel was one of my thesis advisors when I was at CalTech. Come on - come see what we’ve done with your numbers.”
Jeannie nodded. “All right.”
Major Teldy nodded to one of the soldiers standing at attention. “Your luggage will be taken to your quarters, ma’am.”
“Thanks,” Jeannie said, and she followed Rodney, John, Major Lorne, and Dr. Weir through the alien city, using the really cool transport elevator things, to the lab where a bunch of scientists in various iterations of the uniform John was wearing were working busily on a massive device. There were whiteboards covered in formulas scattered around the edges of the room, and copies of her proposed theorem tacked up here and there.
One of the scientists, with wild dark hair and glasses, looked up as soon as they entered, and he launched himself at Rodney, speaking a mile a minute in heavily accented English. John looked amused and hung back, watching. Whatever the man was saying was clearly upsetting Rodney, who got redder and redder in the face, and then the man shouted something in a foreign language, to which Rodney responded in obscene French, and Jeannie couldn’t help but gasp. Rodney was signing while he spoke, like it was second nature to him. Major Lorne had tried to sign along, but eventually he sighed and said, “They’re not speaking English anymore.”
One of the other scientists, a woman of Asian descent who had owlish glasses, also sighed and stepped away from her laptop. She crossed the lab, opened a drawer, and found a small purple drawstring bag. She opened it, fished out what looked like a coin, and trotted back across the lab. She handed the coin to John, who went and stepped between Rodney and the other scientist.
John waved the coin under Rodney’s nose, and he paused.
Fill 2/2: math nerd!John AU
From:Re: Fill 2/2: math nerd!John AU
From:Re: Fill 2/2: math nerd!John AU
From:Re: Fill 2/2: math nerd!John AU
From:Re: Fill 2/2: math nerd!John AU
From:Re: Fill 2/2: math nerd!John AU
From:Re: Fill 2/2: math nerd!John AU
From:no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 10:51 am (UTC)In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
William Ernest Henley
Fill 1/2: Lorne, Ronon
Date: 2016-03-29 03:59 am (UTC)According to Teyla, who was always willing to educate people in the history and culture of the Pegasus Galaxy, Ronon had been a runner, a random human who was picked by the Wraith, tagged with a tracker, and set loose for some kind of sick hunting game. As Teyla’s story unfolded, about how the Wraith would slaughter anyone who helped Ronon, how Ronon was one of the few survivors of the destruction of his entire civilization seven years ago, Evan wondered how the man had woken up every morning for seven years.
How he walked through the halls of Atlantis with his head held high.
How he wasn’t curled up in a ball on Heightmeyer’s floor, a gibbering wreck.
How he could go through the gate with Sheppard and his team and keep on fighting the Wraith.
Now that Evan knew a bit more about the man, he was curious. What was Ronon like before he was a Runner? What was his family like? What was Satedan military structure like? Had he had a spouse and children? What hobbies did he have? What had he done for fun? Because all he seemed to do these days was train, eat, and fight the Wraith.
But there was an amused glint in his eyes sometimes when McKay and Sheppard were baiting each other over a problem, and Evan thought he saw affection and respect in Ronon’s eyes when he got done sparring with Teyla.
Evan was startled out of some mindless doodling on one of the cafeteria napkins when Ronon sat down opposite him at lunch one day.
“You’ve been watching me,” Ronon said.
“I have,” Evan began, and when Ronon’s eyes narrowed, hastened to add, “not in a creepy way, though. I’m just...kinda curious, I guess.”
“Curious about what?”
“About...you.”
Ronon raised his eyebrows. “You wanna sleep with me or something?”
“What-? No!” Evan darted a hunted glance at the marines at a nearby table, but they were engaged in a loud and raucous game of cards and hadn’t heard a thing.
Ronon looked a little offended. “People have wanted to sleep with me before.”
“It’s not that you’re not attractive -”
“So you do want to sleep with me.”
“No. It’s - my military has rules. About. That sort of thing,” Evan said. “I just wondered...how do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Get up every day? Keep fighting the Wraith? After all you’ve been through -”
Ronon caught Evan’s gaze, held it. “You’re a soldier. You have a job. That job is to fight. If I don’t get up, I’m not fighting, and if I’m not fighting, the Wraith win. I will never let the Wraith win.” And with that, Ronon dug into his pasta.
“Right,” Evan said faintly, and finished eating quickly. He stood up to go, jumped when Ronon clamped a hand on his wrist.
“What’s that?”
Evan blinked and looked down. Ronon was pointing to the napkin he’d been doodling on.
“Oh. That’s the Golden Gate Bridge. From back home. It’s nothing, I was just messing around.”
“It’s good,” Ronon said, and let go of his wrist, kept eating. “Can I keep it?”
“Sure.” It was just a doodle, but if Ronon wanted it, Evan wasn’t going to put up a fight.
“Can you draw anything? Anything you can think of?” Ronon asked.
Evan considered. “Pretty much.”
“If I described something to you, could you draw it?”
“Sure.” It had been one of his required skills as a surveyor, producing quick but accurate maps for his superiors to consider after he’d surveyed an area.
Ronon nodded and kept on eating, and Evan - he fled with as much dignity as he could muster.
Fill 2/2: Lorne, Ronon
From:Re: Fill 2/2: Lorne, Ronon
From:Re: Fill 2/2: Lorne, Ronon
From:Re: Fill 2/2: Lorne, Ronon
From:Re: Fill 2/2: Lorne, Ronon
From:no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 10:56 am (UTC)Alone in the daybreak
He does his duties
In the walks of life
The lonely soul wanders
Anto Thermadam
no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 11:01 am (UTC)Although you will expect me to
I was wiser too than you had expected
For I knew all along you were mine
Dorothea Lasky
1/2: RPF, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Date: 2016-03-31 08:09 pm (UTC)The thing of it is that Harry's been waiting for years by the time he trips into the toilet and sees the boy washing his hands.
Short flashes of dreams, at first, where he'd wake up and know it had happened, whatever it was. He'd bothered Gemma about the odd clothes people were wearing in his dreams and kept bothering her 'til she sat down with him at the computer he wasn't allowed to touch yet and she'd pulled up pictures of old clothes, drawings and black-and-white photos and fancy portraits. He had the same dream every night for three months, of being a woman in an elaborate gown crying as someone Harry never saw walked away.
The dreams changed, time and place, but always Harry as someone (male, female, unknown) was left crying and someone walked away.
When he was ten, he stopped telling people and started doing all the research himself.
.
Time, place, ethnicity, it all changed. But every time, he woke knowing that it was true. He scoured the internet and every library he could access on reincarnation, soulmates, studies on dream interpretation. He filled half a dozen notebooks with what he remembered, kept multiple dream journals in his bedside table, drew extensive charts with what varied and what didn’t.
Whatever happened in the dream, whether it was a normal day or a battlefield or a party, Harry (it was always his perspective, never watching from outside) would meet someone or have known that someone for a long time, and he would always wake up after being left behind.
He speculated endlessly on what it might mean, on what might have happened, and obsessively planned for the meeting that he knew must be coming.
All the while, of course, he maintained his schoolwork, visited with his friends, watched telly with Mum, made time for Dad and Robin and Gemma, and tried not to let on how much he thought about having once been someone else, multiple someones. He’d followed the thought once and it resulted in a panic attack he’d never completely explained to Mum. He didn’t want his research to become his whole life.
So when he was fourteen, he started a band with Will, his best friend. He liked to think he had a fairly nice voice, and Will knew a couple of boys who could play instruments, and White Eskimo would probably never make it past Cheshire but it was fun.
.
For a year, Harry couldn’t remember a single dream he had. He had three panic attacks about it. Mum dragged him to a few different doctors but there was no explanation, especially since he didn’t explain what triggered the attacks. His schoolwork suffered in the early months, until he decided he couldn’t allow this odd hobby to derail the rest of his life.
He buried his notebooks in a box under his bed, along with all but one dream journal.
He had a dream the night after Will talked the band into entering the Battle of the Bands contest: a battlefield full of dying men in armor, horses screaming, people shouting, and a body behind his, arms around his middle, and a pair of whispers barely heard over all the noise. He woke clinging to the one sentence, trying to drown out all the terribleness that surrounded it, and when he looked later, there were teardrops all over the page in his dream journal.
Please wait for me, someone had begged Harry, as they were both dying on blood-stained dirt.
I’ll find you, Harry had promised, and he woke reaching for whoever it was.
2/2: RPF, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
From:Re: 2/2: RPF, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
From:no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 12:24 pm (UTC)But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
Cloths of Heaven, W. B. Yeats
no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 05:08 pm (UTC)not a fill.... I was just about to post this exact excerpt when I saw you beat me to it ! wish I knew Dragon Age :)
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 12:25 pm (UTC)Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
Easter 1916, W. B. Yeats
no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 12:29 pm (UTC)Through summer and winter seem
Enchanted to a stone
To trouble the living stream.
Easter 1916, W. B. Yeats
1/2: RPF, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Date: 2016-04-01 03:57 pm (UTC)(follows this)
Judge’s Houses, the Live Shows, the X-Factor touring, moving in with Louis, their first album, the world going utterly mad around them – through it all, Harry’s dreams changed, again. He no longer dreamed of the past, of lives he’d once lived. His last true dream, he only realized as he reread his journal, had been in Marbella, the night before Louis kissed him for the first time.
His dreams after that were all… normal, he supposes, taking a morning to revisit all of the research he’d recorded over the years, all of his speculations, all of his frantic ramblings on why he kept dreaming heartbroken people. But now he dreamt of forgetting lyrics, of plane crashes and not having any milk for breakfast, of the boys getting lost on the way to performances, of Gemma marrying a talking lion. Ridiculous, illogical things sometimes and other times, everyday fears given life. Utterly normal.
“What’s this?” Louis asked, the first time he found the dream journal in Harry’s nightstand. He still recorded every dream he remembered, just in case.
Harry shrugged. “Just my dream journal,” he said. Louis set it back in the drawer.
.
They argue, of course, about silly things. But during performances, during conversations with the producers, the writers, their management team, the musicians, the boys – they’re perfectly in tune with each other and don’t even need to discuss things. Harry knows what Louis will say before he says it, and he’s already replied before anyone else realizes Louis hasn’t actually said his piece, or the opposite, and Harry knows it’s not quite normal.
Sometimes, Mum and Robin can have entire conversations without speaking, like Harry can with Gemma, like Louis and his own mum, like Louis’ twin sisters. But those are people who have known each other for years, or who grew up together. Harry and Louis began doing it after a few days.
He should tell Louis, of course. Sit him down with his notebooks, with the files on his computer, with the charts. It’s entirely possible Louis has had the dreams, too, or feels the same thing Harry does. It seems he does, with how quickly he took to Harry.
But he doesn’t sit Louis down for that conversation. Not during the first year, or the second, or when things start going wrong. Not when management fusses at them for how often they touch, for how they look at each other, for how they steal away whenever they can just to trade lingering kisses.
It had been frantic, in the early days during the Live Shows, when they couldn’t get enough, when they made plans to stay together after no matter what, when they annoyed everyone with how they couldn’t stand to be apart. They’d been fussed at then, too, but it wasn’t like this. Wasn’t being told that couldn’t interact on camera at all, not if they wanted to succeed.
2/2: RPF, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
From:Re: 2/2: RPF, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
From:no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 12:31 pm (UTC)And rode our winged horse;
Easter 1916
no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 12:33 pm (UTC)Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
He wishes for the cloths of heaven, W. B. Yeats
RPF: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Date: 2016-03-31 09:03 pm (UTC)(follows this.
It feels like he’s known Harry forever. Niall and Zayn are easy to get along with, and Liam’s fun to poke at, but Harry is so familiar – like they just fit together, like they snap into place. Harry surprises him in every conversation, and nothing feels as good as getting a laugh out of him, but even when he’s surprised, he’s not. Like he’s known but forgotten.
They work together brilliantly, rarely having to even talk to get their ideas across. “’s’spooky, innit?” Niall asks Zayn once, after Harry and Louis have had an entire conversation without a single word spoken. That’s when Louis realizes how odd it is, this connection they have.
He felt it the first time he saw Harry in line, chubby cheeks and curls and charm. On stage for the judges, he oozed charisma. Louis had wanted to speak to him but he’d promised his sisters to do his best, so he couldn’t let himself be distracted by Harry Styles (of all the ridiculous names) with the curls. And then Harry practically fell through the door and stared at Louis like –
It was weird, the way Harry stared at him. Louis watched him in the mirror for a moment before turning, and Harry was still gazing at him the way Lottie had the first time she saw a horse in real life.
I know you, he thought, the same time he said, “I heard your audition. They’d be stupid to not put you through.”
And it was easy, so frighteningly easy, to pull Harry against him, to comfort him with what Louis was sure would happen anyway. None of the other boys were nearly as good as Harry Styles, so obviously he’d make it to the live shows. And he’d charm the world, wouldn’t he, so clearly he’d one day be the biggest star of all. It was all so obvious, surely everyone saw it.
He wanted to spend every last second at bootcamp with Harry, after that, but he’d promised the girls to do his best, and he never broke a promise to them.
But now here they are at Harry’s step-dad’s bungalow, and he still wants to spend every last moment of his life with Harry. It feels like he’s known Harry forever and he never gets tired of him. But it’s not until he realizes how odd it is that he steals away to call Stan. He wants to ask Mum, but she’s got enough to deal with, considering Dad and the girls.
“What’s the problem, then?” Stan asks once he’s finally fallen silent. “You didn’t shut up about the boy after bootcamp; here’s your chance, innit?”
“It isn’t normal, is it?” he asks. “Like, even me and you, Stanley, it’s never been like this.” Three months, he’d spent crushing on Stan when they were fifteen, until Stan finally shoved him against the bedroom door and kissed him. It was fun, and probably the best first boyfriend he could’ve asked for, though they quickly realized they were better as best friends.
“Lewis, you know that godawful book my mum likes, with that rot about soulmates?” Stan says. “Sounds like you and this Harry kid, don’t it?”
“But soulmates,” Louis says, “and true love… it doesn’t exist.”
“So you’re crushin’ on him,” Stan says. “And he’s crushin’ back so hard, I can see it from here.” Louis laughs softly. “Kiss him,” Stan orders. “Kiss him ‘til your lips fall off and quit whining.”
“Louis!” Harry calls, so Louis turns back towards the bungalow. “What d’ya want for lunch?”
“Gotta go,” Louis says. “I’ll let you know what happens.”
Stan sighs so loudly Louis knows it’s fake but doesn’t say anything else. “What d’ya wanna make?” he asks, slipping his mobile into his pocket and walking back up the path.
Liam, Niall, and Zayn are all good lads, talented and bright. But Louis knows it’s Harry who’s something special, who deserves to have the world love him and see him.
It’s frighteningly easy, everything with Harry. Louis doesn’t want to look away.
He dreams, sometimes, of a longing so deep and vast he could drown in it. Of reaching for someone who isn’t there to reach back. Of dying with someone’s name caught in his throat, choking on things he never said. And he wakes curled around Harry, when he went to bed alone.
You deserve the world, he thinks as Harry pores over their assigned music, and I’m going to give it to you.
Re: RPF: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
From:no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 01:33 pm (UTC)Caught (as it were) in the muck-trap
Of skin and bone
- Letter to a Purist (Sylvia Plath)
Fill 1/2: Stargate Atlantis, Ronon/Evan, + Night World shapeshifters
Date: 2016-06-25 07:16 am (UTC)“Do you feel it?” he asked Ronon one day, while they were lounging in the coolness of their room.
“Feel what?” Ronon was sharpening his knives. It was calming and meditative for him.
“That moment, when you shift. That -” Evan paused, struggled for words.
Ronon nodded. “Yeah. Every time.”
Evan eyed him. “I wonder…”
“Wonder what?” Ronon asked.
“What if - what if we were both right there at the same time?”
Ronon raised his eyebrows. “You mean -?”
“Yeah.”
Ronon scooped his knives up, sheathed them, and set them aside. Then he stood up. Evan did the same, went to stand opposite him on the far side of the admittedly small room. He was pretty sure he knew what Ronon was driving at.
“On three,” Ronon said.
Evan nodded.
“One, two, three -”
They dashed toward each other full tilt. Leaped. Shifted. Ronon landed on the other side of the room in True Form a split second after Evan. They both reverted to human form.
“Close,” Evan said.
“Not close enough. Again?” The intensity burning in Ronon’s eyes was the same as the excitement burning in Evan’s veins.
“Again.”
It was trial and error, adjusting the distance between them, counting the number of strides each of them took before they leaped, trying to match the timing perfectly.
After two dozen trials, both of them were breathing hard and covered with a sheen of sweat.
“Maybe it’s not possible,” Ronon said.
Evan shook his head. “Nothing’s impossible. Not for us. One more time.”
Ronon scanned their surroundings, the scratched wooden floor, the peeling walls, the patchy ceiling. “Do we need more space?”
“No. We’ve calibrated for this space. And besides, I wouldn’t want everyone else staring.” Shifting in front of other people was still strange, even after Evan’s status as a shifter had become acceptable on Atlantis. To a point. All his life, he’d had to keep this side of himself a secret. It would be a long time before he was comfortable with people seeing him change, even if he didn’t have to get naked to do it like he had in times past.
Ronon rolled his shoulders. “Okay. One more time.”
Evan stepped back into his corner for maximum distance, and it felt like time kicked into slow motion. He breathed. Ronon breathed with him. He stepped. Ronon stepped. Across the floor, toward each other like unerring arrows flying true, they ran, each step synchronized into a single heartbeat. Evan jumped, and Ronon was airborne at the same time.
They shifted.
And then -
Lightning. Supernova. Big bang. The beginning and the end, all rolled into one. Evan didn’t know where he ended and the world began, and then he was beside Ronon, in Ronon, through Ronon. Was Ronon.
Fill 2/2: Stargate Atlantis, Ronon/Evan, + Night World shapeshifters
From:no subject
Date: 2016-03-28 01:34 pm (UTC)may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.
For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it’s always ourselves we find in the sea
- e.e. cummings
not a fill yet
Date: 2016-03-31 09:06 pm (UTC)How do you feel about selkies?
Re: not a fill yet
From:folk tale - selkie wife
From:Re: folk tale - selkie wife
From:Re: folk tale - selkie wife
From: