Prior to the 2185-86 Reaper Invasion, London possessed a significant body of the world's art and historic artifacts. Many of these pieces were destroyed in the ultimate Battle of London, which occured on December 25th, 2186 and marked the end of the galactic Reaper War. Trafalgar Square was the epicenter of the skirmish, and the area was almost entirely leveled. This included the National Gallery, which previously stood at the perimeter of the Square. Where once stood a testament to the British Empire and its military prowess now sat a pile of rubble to represent the nation’s hubris.
[Pictures of Trafalgar Square prior to the Reaper Invasion, circa 1955, 2020, and 2184]
During reconstruction efforts, it was determined that most of the marble and bronze art that previously composed Nelson's Column had been rendered unrecoverable. However, two of the relief panels and one of the lions that sat at the pediment of the column were saved. The rest of the marble was cleared from the area and the bronze that could not be restored was used to create a new war memorial honoring Commander Jane Shepard and the sacrifice she made on Boxing Day, 2186.
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hello, if you have been keeping up with my posts in any sort of capacity, you know I’m writing a fic that’s gonna be dropped around spooky szn ft the cast of season 14 as haunt actors because i write what i know. if you liked stupid for you, my amusement park fic from a couple years ago, it’s basically that with a new cast and a spooky coat of paint. this fic is called baby, you’re a haunted house :) wow this is ranty so sorry
set up: all our bestys are in a house together that’s like a mix of plastic surgery and high fashion, and Daya and Bosco are scene partners, coming up with blocking (where they’re gonna stand, how they’re gonna move, etc.)
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"You can come up with your own blocking, just do whatever’s comfortable for both of you. I’ll come by and check on you later,” the director instructed, walking away before questions could be asked.
“So what are you comfortable with?” Daya asked, avoiding eye contact.
“Honestly? We’re about to get very comfortable with each other very quickly. I’m good with doing the most, if you are.”
Daya raised an eyebrow. “Which entails what, exactly?”
“Well two years ago, I was in the original Anarchy, you know, the one that was The Purge, but not The Purge? I got auctioned off, you know the part. Anyway, I had the two huge guys who kidnap me grab me hard enough I got bruises hat lasted until Thanksgiving.”
“You wanna grab me?”
“Yes, Daya, I would like to grab you. But no bruises, I promise I will be careful with you. It is your first time, after all.”
Daya sat on the gurney, making sure it was locked. “What do you have in mind?”
Bosco’s hand hovered over Daya’s face. “Do you want me to show you?”
Daya nodded, her heart rate increasing as Bosco moved closer.
Bosco’s fingers gently grazed Daya’s face as they held her jaw. “Are you okay if I take your jaw and face it toward me, and talk to you like this? I think that’d look good. Obviously, we’ll make it look realistic.”
“Yes, good,” Daya managed. “What next?”
“We need a good angle so it looks real that I’m cutting out your guts, but an angle where the crowd can’t see what I’m actually doing.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Well, my back’s gonna be turned to the crowd,” they walked closer, standing next to the gurney. “That’s still such an awkward angle.”
“You need to come closer to me, like you need to move in further somehow,” Daya said. “Try moving me.”
Despite both of their best efforts, every angle they tried looked unnatural and awkward.
“Damn,” Daya began. “That still looks off.”
“Shit.”
Daya sat up. “Get on top of me.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Bosco sat on the gurney. “On top of you?”
“Don’t be shy. Get on top. You said we were going to get close quickly.”
Rules: post the last seven lines you wrote, then tag seven people to do the same.
i was tagged by @late-to-the-fandom thanks so much for the tag babes!! 🥺🖤🖤
"Maybe you've summoned a demon here to possess me. Maybe you're keeping a witch locked up there to curse me and my entire bloodline." Jude shrugs. "How am I to know?"
Cardan pauses in front of what is presumably the attic door, which stands starkly at the top of the stairs with its chipped white paint and ornate iron handle, like something from a horror novel. It's even resting slightly ajar, and Jude can see, coming from inside the room, a trembling orange glow that reminds her of seances.
Creepy, she thinks with wide, full-moon eyes.
Cardan turns, giving her an incredulous look. "My dear, you are by far the most terrifying thing in this house," he says, then bumps the door open with his hip.
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