Having grown up in DC, statues of various dead guys on horses are basically background radiation, or they were before I became Hamilton trash and started noticing them again. Now it’s like every time I turn around there’s a Founding Father looking at me like I personally disappointed him, and it’s getting a little unnerving.
Although: as a result, I sort of want to write a magical realism thing where that can really happen. Where if you do something they would have disagreed with strongly enough, the statues climb down off their columns and lumber down Mass Ave to the Russell Building or the Capitol, where they stand on the sidewalk, arms crossed, glaring into the window of whoever’s just introduced legislation that offended them. They don’t speak, or attack anyone, or damage anything– well, they do tend to bump their heads on low-handing streetlights, sometimes, but that doesn’t count. Mostly they just stand there, mournful, accusing, for everyone to see.
Sometimes lawmakers can talk them around, convince them they’re not actually betraying the political ideals of their predecessors. Politicians who are good at this tend to have much, much longer careers than the ones who aren’t. Politicians who piss off the wrong statues seldom get reelected.
George Washington rarely budges, and when he does it’s front-page news, nationwide. Madison’s always been easier to talk around than most. Hamilton spend more time off his plinth than on it, but he cools off fast. Jefferson holds grudges, to the point that hardly anyone worries too much about making him mad.
It’s not just politicians, either, and they don’t always come to life in anger. Joan of Arc’s bronze horse will shiver to life in Malcolm X Park, sometimes, and carry her off to join protest marches, when she thinks their cause is just. Gandhi walked with Iraq War protestors. The Spirit of American Womanhood, outside Constitution Hall, danced on the day that Roe v. Wade was decided, and when Obergefell vs. Hodge went through, Eleanor Roosevelt taught a clumsy Lindy to Baron von Steuben.
Lincoln has only risen from his seat once since he was put there in 1922, and that was to nod in solemn approval at LBJ from the White House lawn.
Some cities rarely put up statues, and many have taken theirs down. Paris has a great many artists and writers memorialized, and curiously few politicians. In London, during the Blitz, Nelson shinned down his column to help dig people out of collapsed buildings, until he was broken to pieces himself; he stands atop the column again today, reassembled, but has never moved since. In the last months of the Soviet Union, a desperate Communist Party had the statues of Moscow chained in place. These days, Monument Avenue in Richmond is punctuated with a long series of empty plinths and bare columns.
I loved the yakov/lilia piece but it got me thinking. What about one where all the coaches sit and remember their skating days + reflect on their skaters?
“I miss when Chris was sweet and innocent.”
Yakov let out a chuckle while looking at
Josef’s defeated look.
“How do you think I feel? Victor was never
an angel, but at least he wasn’t this wild,” Yakov said with a sigh as he
picked up his beer and took a sip.
“At least your skaters didn’t come home
with a tramp stamp,” Alain mumbled into his beer.
“The difference between you and us, Alain,
is that your skater is also your son. You’d have to put up with him anyway. We volunteer
for this crap,” Celestino laughed while slapping Alain back.
“Don’t remind me, I can deal with the maple
lead tattoo, but the tramp stamp?” Alain groaned.
“I lost half of my own hair when Victor
turned up to practice after cutting his long hair,” Yakov mumbled while shaking
“You two are lucky, at least you didn’t
have an angel come up to you and ask if he can wear a skin type costume that
highlights his butt. I swear I fainted in shock when Chris asked me that,”
“At least you guys don’t have to monitor a
social media account twenty-four, seven. I swear Phichit is going to kill me
one day, he just runs off for the perfect media shot without factoring in the
danger. He climbed a statue in Russia to get a good shot of some building or
something,” Celestino groaned while finishing off his drink.
“I’ve had to replace seven phones because
Yuri has smashed them to pieces. Seven! The boy has only been in my care for
three years,” he grumbled before lifting up his beer and taking a deep drink.
“When Japanese Yuuri was in my care, I
swear I spent every competition convincing him he did fine. Every competition,”
Celestino sighed with a shake of his head.
“Jean joined a rock band and then comes to
me and declares he is going to skate to his bands song,” Alain said while
shaking his head.
“I do not understand what you are complaining
about,” the four male coaches turned to the only woman at the table. Lilia sat
there, a glass of wine held in her hand.
“You all have wonderful skaters that try
their best. Shouldn’t you be thankful for that?” Lilia questioned while
glancing between the four males.
“But we are, Lilia,” Josef chuckled.
“I am very thankful that Jean is so
dedicated, but sometimes I just need to rant,” Alain said with a small smile.
“Phichit and Yuuri are both lovely boys. It
saddens me that Yuuri got another coach, but it is clear that Yuuri is better
in Victor’s hands than my own,” Celestino said with a soft smile.
“Venting, Lilia, we care for each of our
skaters, but sometimes we just need to vent,” he explained with a wave of his
“I do not understand, but please do not
stop on my account,” Lilia said with a wave of her hand.
“Do you not ever have a moment where you
want to punish your Yuri for his mouth?” Josef questioned, causing Lilia to
glance towards the bald man and nod her head slowly.
“That is what we are doing, talking about
those times. The Grand Prix is over, it is break time before we all hurry back
for National Championships,” Josef explained with a gentle smile.
“I see,” Lilia said with a nod.
“Oh god, nationals,” Alain groaned while
rubbing his forehead, “Jeans be at me about wanting to try and break a world
record at Nationals.”
“Tell your boy to keep dreaming, if anyone
is breaking any records it is Victor,” Yakov said with smirk, earning a snort
“Don’t rule Yuri out just yet, Yakov,”
Lilia warned while taking a sip of her wine.
“Hey now, Phichit has been breaking records
all season, they just aren’t fancy ones like your Russian skaters,” Celestino pointed
out with a smirk.
“May god have mercy on all of us,” Josef
said while raising his beer. Yakov chuckle as he rose his own glass and gently
tapped it against Josef’s along with Celestino and Alain.
“Amen to that,” Alain mumbled as they all
took a sip of their beers.
“You all need more than god,” Lilia mumbled,
resulting in the table bursting into laughter at how true the former ballerina’s
Ah well! Uhm maybe n*18 of that writing a drabble post ("this is without a doubt the stupidest plan you've ever had, of course I'm in") and then like college AU? (you don't have to ofc I'm just weak for college AU luro) Honestly anything w college AU luro would be a blessing I was just looking at that posts Bc I'm bad w prompts lmao 😂 just do Whatevr you want I guess? I'm sure it'll be amazing either way 🙏🙏
Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooh-kay! This took a long time, and I’m really sorry bc finals, work and I was just generally exhausted bc im an anxious lil shit something but but!!! Here it is!
I really hope you like it! It has no plot whatsoever but I think the interactions are pretty good and cute! First time writing Kuro so like, I tried???
Okay, I’m done rambling. OH OH, uh, not really beta’d at all. I apologize for any mistakes, hope u don’t cringe like agressively.
Disclaimer: Voltron doesn’t belong to me.
18. “This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had, of course I’m in” // Luro
“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had, of course I’m in.”
Lance flips his boyfriend off before he drops to his knees and takes a small bobby pin from the back pocket of his jeans.
“Keep talking, Tadashi, and this is the last time I do something nice for you.” Lance threatens, his hands still focused on pick locking the door.
“Well, that doesn’t sound good for future horny me.” The young adult mumbles before frowning, “And stop calling me Tadashi.”
“It’s your birth name, Kuro.” Lance replies, nickname rolling easily on his tongue, and waves him off with a shrug, “But fine, your wish is my command, babe.”
Kuro pouts at him and kicks him on the butt from behind, smirking when Lance yelps in surprise.
“How long have you been planning this, babe?”
Lance hums. “A month before you graduated last semester.”
Kuro’s eyes snap open in surprise. “That long? Babe, you didn’t have to do this, I told you back then that I was okay not getting a photo.”
His boyfriend scoffs. “Hell no. You graduated with honors, love, despite the fact that no one believed you could do it. You deserved to have your picture with the Black Lion, your career mascot! It’s a College Tradition!”
Kuro chuckles softly at the passion in the brunet’s voice. “The Director didn’t like me, we all knew that. I’m just glad I was able to prove them all wrong.”
Lance looks behind him over his shoulder to met his eyes and then he smiles softly. “Yes…you did prove them wrong and I couldn’t be prouder.”
Kuro flushes at the praise and looks away, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “Oh, hush.”
“But still, babe! You didn’t get to have a picture flying the Black Lion! So, that’s why we are here for!” Lance grins proudly and Kuro snorts.
“To break into the Castle of Lions just for me to climb over a rock statue?”
“Heck yeah, we are.” Lance smirks and Kuro returns the smirk.
Director Zarkon won’t be happy with the fact someone climbed over his favorite kitty.”
“Director Zarkon can kiss my ass.”
“Ew, babe, no.” Kuro laughs, “Just hurry up, before someone catches us.” He urges, leaning against the wall nonchalantly besides his boyfriend.
Context: I’m playing a chaotic good drow monk (yes i know, chaotic isn’t exactly the ideal alignment for monks, but i honestly don’t care) in a 5e game with my family, run by a family friend. We have a sorcerer gnome, a teifling druid, a half-ork fighter, a dwarf bar, and a human cleric. I use a quarterstaff as my main weapon.
Dm: as the elf mage falls, he drops his see-through staff and his body turns to ash
The rest of the party: *discussing how weird it was how his body disintegrated*
Me: I CALL THE STAFF! THAT STAFF IS MINE!
Me: *I go over and inspect the staff, visibly excited*
Dm: if you want to know how it works, you’ll have to attune to it, which requires a short rest
Me: *to the rest of the party* guys, we’re taking a short rest right now.
After a short rest:
Dm: after your short rest, you now know that the staff is mainly arcane based, and allows the uses to cast spells through it.
Me: *i sigh and i reluctantly hand the staff over to the sorcerer*
After we defeated another main enemy, a drow bard, he also had a staff.
Dm: you climb ontop of the statue where the drow is, and you hit him with your staff, and then upper cut his jaw, sending him falling off of the statue. When yiu look down, you see that he broke his neck when he fell, killing him.
The res of the party: *celebrating that we killed the enemy*
Me: I CALL THE STAFF! I DIDN’T GET THE LAST ONE SO I GET THIS ONE GODDANMIT!
Me: *i get off of the giant statue and i take the staff, attuning to it after we take a short rest to heal up*
Dm: after you attuned to it, you know that this is very ancient, probably hundreds of years old. It is a staff of bards, giving them two extra bardic inspiration dice, and boosting their charisma by 2.
Me: *sighs and hands it over to our bard without another word*
We find a treasure room and fight a bunch of mimics in there. There is a staff in a display against the wall.
Me: if this goddanm staff is another friggin’ bard of sorcerer staff im gonna be pissed.
Me: since we’re taking a short rest, I’ll attune to the staff.
After a short rest
Me to the dm: please bs kind to me, i have suffered to many losses so far.
Dm: *laughs* well, you’ll be happy to here that this staff is something you’ll like. It is a staff of the storm. It gives you an extra 10 feet of movement, and it deals an extra 2d6 lightning damage.
Me: *i start crying tears of joy, dropping to my knees and hugging the staff*
Fighter: are you alright?
Me, still crying: this is the happiest day of my life.
Compilation post of all the times our D&D party’s monk (@philanthropy-lite‘s character Farrah) has fucked up:
Rolled to hold hands with @auors‘ rogue character, rolled bad, hands were too sweaty.
Rolled acrobatics/dex (best ability) to climb up a small statue, rolled natural 1, stubbed toe and fell, took damage.
Rolled inspection check while running to search for something, rolled natural 1, tripped and fell into a bookcase (and just barely managed not to have it fall on her), took damage when a book fell and hit her in the face.
Was pushed into a dark room and stumbled just past a trap, but in an attempt to look cool, rolled acrobatics to do a Sick Backflip, rolled well, landed the jump, thus activating the trap.
Rolled to catch the projectile from said trap instead of dodge, rolled well, caught the object but suffered contact damage (it was sickstone).
Got caught with smutty book.
Had a breakdown during nap time.
And of course my favorite:
In an attempt to help @auors‘ character Wynona, who’s hand was stuck in a slime (Fool’s Water), Farrah grabbed a bucket of water and poured it on Wynona’s arm. The water had glass hidden in it and cut Wynona, and the Fool’s Water reacted with the water and exploded, injuring both characters.
On the Jehan and Enjolras bodyswap thing, I just realised it could be even more interesting if Enj had to give a speech at a rally in Jehan's body.
Oops I accidentally changed it to Jehan giving a speech in Enjolras’ body by misreading, I hope you don’t mind
Jehan is known to be pretty shy. After all Jehan “ha[s] an awkward air, blushe[s] at a mere nothing, and [is] very timid.”
But Jehan is also intrepid. Jean Prouvaire’s bravery hides in plain side, bubbling just at the surface. They’re shy, but they still soar on stage during slam open mics nights. Though, granted, a massive angry crowd is diffferent from a nice dim-lit café atmosphere.
Enjolras writes the speech, but it just won’t stick in Jehan’s mind. Those are not their words. They’re not their style! Not that Enjolras’ style is bad, it’s just different. Terrified to do poorly, Jehan rewrites the whole thing at the last minute, even using Courfeyrac’s back as a desk, piercing little holes in the paper…
The crowd cheers as they see Enjolras’ body climbing up the statue on the Place de la République. Enjolras has made a name for himself over the years. Charismatic leader, brilliant orator, fervent advocate for social progress… All of that pushes into Jehan as they look down at the crowd and over the skyline. Their hands shake a little as they lift the megaphone to their lips. Enjolras’ lips.
At the foot of the monument, Bahorel, Bossuet and Grantaire cheer for them, whistle. Adrenaline tickles in Jehan’s fingers. Their grip gets steadier.
“Esteemed people of France, and dear citizens of the world, those to whom borders are bridges rather than walls…”
Jehan is fierce, eloquent and charismatic up there. Their style is different, people can tell, even though they can’t quite pinpoint why. Jehan’s speech ends in an cheerful uproar and revolutionary chants. Jehan’s heart beats so hard it may actually bruise Enjolras’ chest.
Before I Knewby 0bscurum(Rated M) He needs her name and status to climb his way back up the societal ladder, she needs his money and cunning nature to further her philanthropic ambitions. To get what they want they’ll have to work together. [Dramione. Lots of fluff, a little drama, a dash of angst, and as many fun tropes as I can manage.]
“Face it, Granger,” he said, his tone lower, “you need me.”
Any sympathy she’d just gained for him vanished. “If you think for one—”
“And—” he jumped, and she saw his Adam’s apple bob. “And I… need this.”
Written and recommended by nxrcissamxlfoy Categories: Post Hogwarts,Forced Co-workers, Redeemed Draco Type: Multi-chap, WIP Why should people read it: Read it for a good mix of fluff & drama, and for all of your favorite tropes rolled into one fic. Read it because it has Draco dealing with muggle office supplies, Hermione singing karaoke, Ginny being a general badass, and Harry being the little shit we know and love. Read it for background Lavender x Parvati, Ron x Susan, for Dennis Creevey and Astoria Greengrass getting some screen time.
It’s just us now, okay? We can talk. Hey, uh you remember that day we, uh– we got drunk and, uh, ran around Lincoln Park setting off all the alarms on the Priuses? Yeah. And then we, um– we climbed the Lincoln statue and gave Old Abe some, uh, lipstick with red sharpie. Yeah yeah. Yeah, you were, uh, fucking fearless.
“We go out for drinks, and this happens,” Donnie muttered irritably, shifting the ropes tied
around his wrists. “And they weren’t even alcoholic this time.”
“In Leo and Raph’s and my own defense-” April said, also
tugging at her bound wrists. “-none of us knew that we weren’t supposed to
climb that particular statue. And it’s you, Casey, and Mikey who wandered off; we
were just trying to find you!”
“Wonderful job of that. You found us, and then we all got
arrested,” Donnie said dryly.
“I said we were sorry!”
“You did, they didn’t,” Donnie nodded at his older brothers,
who were slumped against one another unconscious. Casey and Mikey were still
conscious, for all the good that did; the two of them also struggling against
the rough rope that they’d all been trussed up with.
Around them, the majority of the village they’d stopped down
in was gathered. In hindsight, it may not have been the best idea to pick a
planet that still had tribal rule, and
warrior code. Donnie didn’t like the look of blades swinging from the aliens’
waists, or the sizable masses of their arms.
Earlier, he’d thought it was all very fascinating. A bipedal
species with two sets of arms, claw like nails, and fierce looking tusks jutted
from their mouths. A genetic marvel from where he came. They also resembled ‘World of Warcraft’ characters, and
never let it be said Donnie wasn’t interested in the gaming community, for all
its grievous errors and rampant biasness.
Though now, as the chief of the village called to order her
assembled followers, they seemed more intimidating than fascinating.
things have been especially rough for me this past year
mugsy and cookie passed away
my aunt died of cancer
my friend david is no longer here
i saw someone take their own life
my grandma was just admitted to the icu
my depression and anxiety both worsened drastically
and i’ve noticed the yearning for the release of nothingness started to seem more and more appealing
as a way to remind myself things are not always terrible and that life is still worth living i would like to use this as a cathartic method of documenting small moments that make me smile and that happened this year
because in the end, life is more than the pivotal, climatic, moments we tend to remember