This was supposed to be an illustration for the fic Thursday's child has far to go, by @radioactivepigeons . But since I'm slooooo... Pigeons not only managed to finish that fic, they also managed to start a new one, The child born on the sun's day is bonny and blithe, bright and gay.
Both are absolutely worth reading!
Other than that, here, meet my vision of Julian (some of you may even guess who's the faceclaim), as they're telling Frank what they think about his attitude and certain behaviors.
Pigeons, this is my gift for you! <3
Thank you for so many great stories and for your support. :)
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I'd love to know more about Sweet Summer Music. I remember reading some of it and loving the vibe
Oh, gosh - Newsbians, my darlings! I love that you asked about this. I have every intention of finishing it - it has one, or at most two, chapters left to go. (Somewhere in all of my stuff I also have a holidays story that takes place after the summer one. We'll see if I ever get back to it!)
ANYWAY. "Sweet Summer Music" is my Newsbians story in which Sarah is a cello player for the Boston Symphony Orchestra, and Kath is the arts reporter who shows up to cover the Tanglewood summer season in Western Mass. This story, in addition to being about how much I adore these two women, was also born out of my love for Western Massachusetts, which is so beautiful and still feels like home to me, despite all the other places I've lived. I love Tanglewood. I love the Berkshires. I love how everything in Western Mass feels a little bit magical and a lot artsy and naturally beautiful.
Jack and David are there, too! Jack is still a painter, and he and David run an art gallery in Lenox (which is also where Tanglewood is, for those who might not know). Jack and David are married. Jack is also Sarah's ex-boyfriend from years ago, but still adores her and calls her Sunshine. It's not all easy - Sarah has some heavy things that she carries with her, but I wanted this story to mostly be lovely and magical and romantic, and I hope it is. <3
Thank you so much for asking! Now I very much want to put this back at the top of my fic to-do list. :)
If you want to, and it makes you happy, can I ask you more about your headcanons for Jewish Yolanda Garcia? (I realize it was badly phrased on AO3.) Does she observe any holidays, and if so, which ones? Does she have any food specific associations that are important? (Related: any feelings on Hamantashen (so?) outside of Purim?) Other questions I should have been smart enough to ask but don’t know?
oh fuck okay. i am not planning this out at all, just writing the first thing that pops into my head, because that's served me well enough for the whole fic so far. for the record: this is all about my yolanda in growth, not about canon yolanda. this isn't a central part of the fic, but i love thinking about these characters so much.
so! like i said in the comments, yolanda isn't super religiously observant, and she's not super religiously observant in a very different way from how robby is not super religiously observant. robby was raised with religious judaism as a core part of his identity. he doesn't super believe in G-d, and he works through the high holy days (he will never admit that it's because he's too anxious to not be working on the high holy days - synagogues are full, that's a very high risk day), but in moments of stress, we see him turn to religion. i relate to this a lot - i discovered when i thought i was going to die that i also say the shema for a sense of grounding and connection (and also, like, because you say it before you die). who knew!
yolanda, on the other hand, didn't grow up in a religious household. her mother's mother is (was?) jewish, so they would sometimes celebrate holidays together - hanukkah, purim, pesach - but it was always more of a culture/heritage thing than a religion thing. she's obviously aware of the high holy days, but aside from eating honey cake, she didn't really do anything about them growing up. she celebrates christmas now (because her dad's family did, it was what they did at home), but she uses blue and white decorations on the christmas (chrismukkah) tree. she had one too many run-ins with the chabad rabbi near her university who loved telling her that she wasn't jewish enough because she's from a mixed family (fuck that guy), but she's comfortable with her identity, so finding a jewish community or being more religiously observant just aren't priorities. for her, it's about the little things she did growing up with her grandma. so she lights candles for all eight nights of hanukkah, and she dresses a little funny on purim (not like a full costume, but she'll do her makeup differently or something?).
kasha varnishkes was absolutely a staple at grandma's house (and it's grandma, not bubbe), as well as chicken soup with kreplach and latkes for hanukkah and... i can't decide if yolanda likes gefilte fish. she's mastered the art of making kreplach and latkes, but her kasha varnishkes always comes out wrong (she's using butter instead of schmaltz).
hamantaschen... oh man. she thinks they're dumb honestly. like, half of the fillings kinda suck, and they're annoying to make. she does like the chocolate ones, though, which i personally do not understand. frank once made her chocolate hamantaschen and she cried a little bit (her grandma had just died (i've written this far before deciding that her grandma is dead)) because they were genuinely perfectly shaped, and she'd only ever had ones that were falling apart before, and it brought up Feelings.
Halloween prompt: Politically themed costumes, Les Mis.
Rating: G
1,043 words
Gen
AO3
“I thought we agreed that we weren’t doing Halloween this year?” Enjolras half grumbled, half called up the steps. “In light of the fact that there is a global pandemic and we’ve been responsibly quarantining and social distancing this whole time.” Despite his complaints, he still fixed the ridiculous headband he wore as part of his costume. The halved wiffle ball glued onto it made pretty decent looking fly eyes, but the weight was weird and the whole thing kept slipping as a result.
The thud of footfalls preceded Enjolras’s view of Courfeyrac as he loped down the stairs. “Yes,” Courf sighed, “we agreed not to host a party this year and not to hand out candy but that does not a cancelled holiday make!”
Triumphantly, Courf jumped the last two steps to land in front of Enjolras. This forced Enj to step back and the space gave him a full view of the sparkly corset, booty shorts, and fishnet stockings that Courfeyrac managed to work into a costume every Halloween. This year with a clear plastic raincoat over top. He raised an eyebrow as Courf kept talking.
“Besides, we already decorated and there’s enough people living here that we can have an inhouse house party. And enough alcohol.” Courf nodded sagely before eyeing Enjolras. He smirked and leant against the banister, “For someone who is seemingly against this you put a lot of effort into your costume. I was wondering what the red paint in the grass was from.”
Enjolras felt his ears heat. “I spray painted the wiffle ball. And the pipe cleaners and plastic wrap to make the wings wasn’t that much work.”
Impossibly, Courfeyrac’s eyebrow crept higher into his poof of curls. “Right.”
“But what are you supposed to be anyway?” Enjolras deflected in a huff.
Courf’s grin brightened and a spark of mischief lit in his eyes. He shouldered past Enj towards the living room. Enjolras followed as Courf picked the sheet of paper off the top of the printer and the roll of tape from the table beside it. He’d heard the whir of the printer earlier but hadn’t bothered to question it, he should’ve known it’d have something to do with Courfeyrac.
Paper suitably taped to the front of the raincoat, Courf spun with a flourish. Enjolras leaned forward slightly to read it. He crossed his arms with a frown when he saw the “Purell” logo.
Smile widening, Courfeyrac proudly said, “I’m sexy hand sanitizer!”
“I’d say your costume is in bad taste except you clearly have no taste,” Enj told him drolly.
“Boooooo,” Courf stretched it out into a couple syllables and playfully batted at Enjolras’s shoulder. “It’s funny. And this rain jacket was an investment! Now I can keep my outfits dry and still show them off.”
Having no suitable response to that, Enjolras rolled his eyes. A crash sounded from above them and saved him from having to respond further. They shared a look and rushed back to the steps. Courf beat him there and started up as Combeferre called out “Everything’s fine!”
“Are you sure?” Enjolras wasn’t one to question Ferre’s judgement but that hadn’t sounded good.
“Yes!” This time Ferre’s voice was joined by Grantaire’s. Enjolras exchanged a meaningful look with Courf but they both backed off.
Heading into the kitchen, Enj settled on a stool at the island and pulled his phone out to text Eponine. The Thenardier siblings had gone out to pick up extra snacks earlier despite the House’s other occupants’ protests. She’d silenced them with that steady gaze of hers and said that it was to be considered their contribution and thanks for the past eight months of hospitality and generosity. That prevented further protests and prompted Enjolras to hand her the keys to his Jetta. He was starting to get nervous that they hadn’t returned yet.
His phone beeped with her response but an odd sound coming down the hall distracted Enj from reading the text. He turned to see Grantaire in a ridiculously large cowboy hat sitting in the rolling office chair from his studio. The sound came from the fact R was seated in the chair and scooting down the hall in short bursts. He managed to make it the last stretch into the kitchen with an eager smile. Too eager. It was bordering on smug.
Enjolras blinked as R spun to face him and Courf fully. “Are you zipped tied?” Enj’s voice lilted upwards in shock and incredulity.
“They’re loose.” To prove it, Grantaire slipped his hands out of the loops of plastic that had attached his wrists to the arms of the chair.
R’s smile had crossed over to land firmly in the territory of smug but whatever face Enjolras was currently making had it inching steadily toward manic delight.
Then it hit Enjolras. He closed his eyes and kneading at his temples, making his fly eyes slip further back on his head in the process. “I cannot believe you,” he muttered.
“What?” Courf asked, still confused. For his part, Grantaire just cackled.
“He’s that guy from Idaho who was protesting having to wear a mask and strapped himself to a chair in the state capitol. They had to take the chair with them when they removed him,” Enjolras explained. He opened his eyes in time to see R wink at him.
“I thought it was funny,” Ferre’s voice floated down the hallway. “Though we dropped the chair when trying to adjust our grip.”
Enjolras froze when he saw Combeferre standing in the doorway. Ferre’s surprised expression mirrored his own. Grantaire chuckled lowly as Courf said, “Well one of you are going to have to change. Despite SNL’s sketch, Pence only had one fly on him during the debate. That we could see.”
Combeferre began laughing, hands pressing against his mouth but not quite covering his smile. Enj bit his lip but couldn’t stop his own grin. He and Ferre were indeed both wearing – fairly well done in his opinion – homemade fly costumes.
“Great minds think alike?” Enjolras offered. Ferre nodded and walked over to sling his arm around his friend’s shoulder. Careful of both their wings.
“And you didn’t want to do Halloween this year,” Courfeyrac tsked and shook his head.
For your ficlet prompts: Could I have something with R and Combeferre, maybe for "I... Im surprised you knew that. No one else can wax pedantic quite so poetically." Please and thank you and you're wonderful and I hope life is being good to you.
(Thank you so much for your long bout of patience! You’re always the loveliest and wonderful, and I hope life is treating you well! Life has been rather absurdly busy lately, but I’ve finally gotten to this prompt and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! <3 It’s, uh, sort of shippy? Pre-shippy? Everyone here has a lot of emotions and is kind of a disaster at having vulnerable conversations about awkward subjects. XD)
There’s a heavy silence, growing the awkward the longer itsits unanswered.
“I... I’m surprised you knew that,” Grantaire finally says,when the wait becomes too much. He clears his throat nervously, fidgets with aloose thread on his shirt hem, tries for a grin. “No one else can wax pedanticquite so poetically.”
Combeferre smiles back, gentle and maybe a little anxious atthe same time. “You pick up quite a bit, practicing for my line of work.”
“No, I know that,” Grantaire agrees, and sighs deeply,slumping in his chair. “It’s just the difference, between, y’know, knowing thatyou and Joly can give me clinical rundowns of statistics of having a fucked upbrain, and you peeling me apart like an onion.”
“If I’ve overstepped…” Combeferre starts, with a prodigious frowndigging furrows in his brows.
Yes, Grantaire wants to say, and yes. But he did, after all,ask for it. Has shared things, because he’s trying to open up a little more,these days. Especially with Combeferre, who has a sharp mind and a soft heartworn on his sleeve.
Grantaire’s heart is an apple left in the sun, and histongue is a scalpel’s honed edge. He’s not sure how they meet, but he’s trying.
“No,” Grantaire says, inches his hand closer to brush theedge of his pinky against Combeferre’s. “You’re right, those are all thingsthat are… true. How the fuck you understand my family better than me is deeplyironic. I’d ask if you wanted to swap places, but wow, I would not inflict thaton you.”
He’s thought a thousand times he’d shove anyone into hisplace, like a drowning man flailing for a breath. It’s made him guilty andbitter and angry, but it’s hard to be any of those things around Combeferre.
“We’ve been friends for a while,” Combeferre points out,with remarkable gentleness and a dry edge that eases any sting of it. “As itturns out, I have a lot of feelings about seeing my friends upset. Familydynamics are always a touchy subject, but, uh-”
“A hot button issue?” Grantaire asks, drier still. SoCombeferre waxes as eloquent on familial dysfunction as on governmentalpolicies and renewable energy. It makes it easier to swallow, that Combeferrejust cares in general, and in the specific because they’re friends, rather thanthe opposite. It’s easier to be cared about on principle. Grantaire’s still notsure he has principles, when people are looking at him. “Do you want to pretendthis conversation never happened?”
And Combeferre’s eyes are still intent, a little apologetic,much too kind, but Grantaire is weirdly fond of it. Combeferre smiles again,though he clearly doesn’t expect either of them to actually dismiss this weirdwhole conversation, and taps his knuckles against Grantaire’s forearm, aglancing touch. “Would you rather hold some rats and we can trade fun rat factsinstead?”
“I,” Grantaire proclaims, relieved and grateful andawkwardly a little touched, “would love that. D’you know much about thesymbolism of mustelids in art?”
“No, but go on,” Combeferre says, and grins shamelessly atGrantaire. “No one else can wax pedantic quite so poetically, after all.”
Grantaire rolls his eyes heavily, but snorts in laughter allthe same.
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Its yours when the kids are super cute (and yet somehow still trouble), Race and Lawyer!Spot face down the world together, and Jack and Kath are constantly in and out of disasters
My kids are literally disasters in adorable packaging.
radioactivepigeons replied to your post “I finally finished my Physical Chemistry Assignment”
I found the equation editor in word or using latex could be easier sometimes than hand writing. Although it can be harder, depending on how you think through math
I should look into that.
Writing out long chemical equations or long repetitive calculations takes me minutes when it takes most people seconds. So it would probably help if I can find a program that can do that easily.
