Les Mis Hogwarts au where Enjolras is part Veela and really pissed about the portrayal and stereotypes of his species and starts a club for the Advancements and Rights of Magical Creatures. He can’t figure out why this kid with some nasty scars who hides his mutilated face behind witty comments shows up at every meeting, until he’s suddenly not there and he just keeps disappearing a few days each month and he’s puzzled but not worried until Jehan mentions that he can never find R on the full moon to go up to the top of the astronomy tower and drink with him and oh, Enjolras realizes maybe there’s a very good reason for the distance and mood swings. And rather than confront Grantaire about not telling him Enjolras dedicates the club meetings to dispelling rumors and gathering support for the Werewolf population, and maybe starts researching animagi in his spare time.
Uh, I may have written a thing (on AO3)
it’s a love story, baby, just say yes
les mis modern au
approx 19,000 words (sorry)
Enjolras says, “Combeferre and I have selected three potential plays for our next production: Twelfth Night, Doctor Faustus, and Hamlet.”
“Phantom of the Opera,” the stranger in the back of the room says suddenly. “People love that sort of thing. Put on anything by Andrew Lloyd Webber and you’ll be sold out.” He smiles, slowly. “Promise.”
(Or: In which Enjolras is the leader of a group of theatre students that stages a production at the local theatre twice a year for free, and Grantaire shows up to rehearsal one day with his guitar and his Taylor Swift songs and everything quickly goes to hell.)
Eduardo’s hair is fucking everywhere. “You have magic hair that glows,” Mark says flatly.
i’m so sorry that’s all i had ): ):
This is a Howl’s Moving Castle AU —— Francis = Howl, Arthur = Sophie. Loosely based, more book than movie: Francis gives his heart away to save a falling star (Prussia)
note: this is unfinished, rough, unedited, you get the picture. it’s really nothing more than a few scenes i wrote haphazardly some time ago (ages ago, tbh) and i was talking to sous about it for one reason or another and she finally convinced me to post it. maybe some of you will enjoy it!
just wanted to warn you that it’s totally not finished and extremely rough around the edges ;)
When Francis sees the light trailing across the sky, dropping lower and lower and lower—a falling star, a meteor burning in the atmosphere, one last flare of life before dying, he doesn’t pause, doesn’t think. Just—runs.
Birthday fic for Sous. There’s, er, a backstory to this, involving this picture and the two of us trying to force the other to write a fic revolving around it.
It all goes downhill from there. :P
Hey, also, this fic takes place during Halloween.
“No,” Alfred says immediately. “No—Matthew, that is—no.”
Anatomy of an Anomalous Relationship by fireblazie (Part 1)
Podfic by ohmygoshsickles (made with permission of fireblazie)
I made this as sort of a gift for my cousin… but also because I need to use my microphone more… and along the way I learned how to edit audio! So that’s all very exciting. :] I apologize for my horrible/non-existent accents. (Arthur sounds Australian. Sigh.) And I stumble on a word or two once or twice, but this was the first time I’ve done this soooo, be nice to me? Haha.
This was actually a lot of fun, so if you can bear to stand my voice, I’d be happy to record anything anyone else has written once I’m done with this fic. (There are six parts in total.) :]
Er, enjoy! Haha.
Podfic! Of my fic! Ahhhh :D If you’ve the time, do give it a listen! She has the cutest voice. Especially Matthew. Oh, Mattie. ♥
Title: picking up trash in dresses
Pairings: Alfred/Matthew, Francis/Arthur
Length: Approx 14,000 words
Summary: In which Arthur and Alfred share an apartment, and Francis and Matthew live across the hall. Uni!AU.
Sequel to this
Also, Michelle = Seychelles.
It starts with this:
“Francis and I are thinking of adopting,” Arthur says conversationally to Alfred over tea (although Alfred, as always, insists on coffee) and mostly-burnt scones.
“Your wedding should have doves,” Alfred says without preamble, striding into the room with a stack of bridal magazines perched on his elbow.