In Florence, Bedelia du Maurier considers her position.
For the prompt of Adrian being a big nerd, him being a small nerd about something that isn't Egypt or Alexander for once. When Adrian Veidt is twelve years old, he discovers Homer's Iliad.
“Dong jie fights well as always,” Mu Nihuang said, smiling. “It’s been a while since we’ve sparred; perhaps you can give me a match, as well?”
Xia Dong had had her own year of mourning. She had tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that Nie Feng had died a hero, had given his life to prevent a rebellion, and had succeeded. All things being equal, though, she’d rather her husband were alive.
Xia Dong realized the silence had dragged on too long. The smile on Mu Nihuang’s fac…
“Dong jie fights well as always,” Mu Nihuang said, smiling. “It’s been a while since we’ve sparred; perhaps you can give me a match, as well?”
Xia Dong had had her own year of mourning. She had tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that Nie Feng had died a hero, had given his life to prevent a rebellion, and had succeeded. All things being equal, though, she’d rather her husband were alive.
Xia Dong realized the silence had dragged on too long. The smile on Mu Nihuang’s face was slipping. Xia Dong found her own smile somewhere and gave Mu Nihuang a challenging bow. “I would be honored to spar with the princess,” she said. “Let us see if you have kept up your training, stuck in the south as you were.”
There are other ways to engineer a crisis in Gilead.
They were old stones, the stones that buried Leporino, the boundary markers of a rustic edifice or a low wall. They might have tumbled down the ravine under the weight of last winter’s snow, or at an unlucky push.
(Written for cygnes and the prompt: the secret history au where it's a jacobean revenge tragedy.)
Tom and Peter, partners in disguise.
"Whatever you want," Nathan finds himself saying when his shirt comes off over his head and his glasses hit the nightstand — like he's talking to himself, which he might as well be. "Don't think about it like should, or shouldn't. Don't think. Don't fucking try and figure it out. Come on. You can keep your shirt on."
Crash needs Ginger. Ginger wants Crash.
When Ed Lee realizes he's in love, and when Ed Lee realizes he's fucked.
There in that white-gilt bedroom like a tomb, where I believe none of Gatsby's guests had ever before set foot except by mistake — none until Daisy, and I was only her adjunct and proxy, an accessory to her presence there in the house. He had forgotten about me then. He had forgotten about me now. I was his only witness.