Okay I've thought about this some more! (This being the Second Citadel/Galavant crossover)
More thoughts about how I've cast things:
Damien is Galavant because of the obvious (handsome popular brave sir knight), but also because of the way he was sold so firmly on an ideal (loving Madelena being an analogy for believing in the truth of the Second Citadel) that he later finds isn’t as righteous as he thought (discovering Madelena is an awful person being an analogy to discovering the awful reality to hunting monsters).
Arum is Isabella because of the similarities between both the Arum/Damien rivalry and courtship and the Galavant/Isabella partnership to romance. They both start out antagonistic, and have a point of betrayal leading to the imperilment of one party. Arum and Isabella both have a choice presented to them between their “kind” (Arum’s duty to other monsters, Isabella’s duty to her people) and their love (Arum with Damien and Rilla and Isabella with Galavant).
Rilla as Sid is a little less obvious, but I think it still manages to work out well. She’s been with Damien longer, like Sid has with Galavant, and know how he works. She knows what he means when he speaks his heart, and knows how to calm him when his anxiety spirals get bad. And also like Sid, she’s looked down upon by most of society (Sid as a squire and Rilla as the exiled scientist).
Another parallel between the two sets of relationships is how they both kind of develop in tandem. In Second Citadel, Arum meets and falls in love with both Rilla and Damien separately. In Galavant, Isabella is shown to do the same (the poly isn’t explicit in the show, but it is an easy reading to make) by falling for Galavant and developing a caring friendship with Sid.
Juno was going to kill him, he really was. Buddy had been very clear that the ELEPHANT Conglomerate was highly dangerous and had to be handled with extreme caution, which is what Peter was trying to do. The ELEPHANT Conglomerate had been getting their fingers into casinos across the galaxy, so Buddy had decided it was time for the Roses to make a comeback.
“After all,” she had said while Vespa smirked in the background, “Why waste Rita’s time establishing two new aliases when you have some that are ready to go?”
So here he was, in a bright red floral patterned suit that was just verging on tacky, playing his third round of Venusian High Card draw, waiting for Paz Milan to make an appearance. Juno had been making the rounds of the casino, keeping an eye out for their target, and had circled back around to where Peter was stationed. He’d made an appearance in that red dress Juno had bought on Europa the last time they’d stopped there and leaned in against Peter’s side comfortably. Peter had exclaimed delightedly, fully in the Duke Rose persona, and Juno had leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, using the motion to disguise a whisper in Peter’s ear, sharing what information he had gleaned so far.
That had been five minutes ago, though, and in that time Juno had moved from sitting next to Peter to standing behind him, leaning over his shoulder to watch what was going on. Peter could feel Juno’s breath against his ear and was finding it very hard to concentrate.
[Send me an "👀" (and a fandom) and I'll give you a snippet of a wip from this year!]
So in listening to the first few minutes of Man in Glass I got an idea (what if when Peter ran away from Brahma, Buddy and Vespa found and adopted him) that was swiftly proven non-canonical, and this is what came of it:
Peter bought (stole) a ticket off Brahma that day. A lot of people had died, and he intended for Peter Nureyev to be one of them. So he shed his name like a reptile shed its skin and moved on. Peter Nureyev, street rat turned master thief turned savior/martyr/revolutionary, couldn’t make it off Brahma, but Peter Ransom, the son of a diplomat… Peter Ransom could get out.
[Send me a "👀" and a fandom and I'll send a snippet of a wip of art or writing from this year!]
Hey, I haven’t done one of these for a while! I ended up being pretty damn productive over break and then forgot to reblog literally any of it to my main, so here we go!
(putting it behind a break because it might get long)
Writing:
I wrote several fics: gossip (les mis), Tim Stoker is good at Christmas (tma), feral (tma), love burns just as bright (tma), and sometimes things go wrong (tma) (all linked to ao3 in the posts), as well as several shorter ficlets (all tma, found here, here, and here).
I’ve also been writing a shitton of poetry lately, which can all be found here! (warning for a bonkers amount of yearning, sorry)
Art:
I have been drawing some, but the only recent piece I’ve posted is this, created for the TMA Femslash event!
And as always, my sideblogs are in my header, and my ao3 is MarbledOpalescence!
Here’s my half of the prompt swap with the amazing @this-is-a-podcast-fanblog!
She asked for a Jupeter coffee shop au, so here we go!
Hyperion Coffee. Some people say it’s the best coffeeshop in the city.
The rest of us work there.
Hyperion Coffee was located smack dab in the middle of one of the most gentrified parts of the city, in some old brick building that used to be a post office or something. I hadn’t bothered to remember the specifics. It was always full of rich hipsters pretending to be poor and business executives too rushed to bother tipping, snapping orders into expensive smartphones. It wasn’t a great job, but someone had to be the one to do it.
“Mistah Steel!”
“Gah!”
I fell off the stool where I had been lurking in the stock room and blinked up at the person standing over me.
“Oh my gosh Mistah Steel, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Rita, get off of me!”
She stepped back and let me scramble to my feet. I dusted myself and glared at her. She looked back at me unperturbed.
“Listen, boss, I know you was brooding back here and talking to yourself again, but we need you up front! Mick called in sick again, and Alessandra says she’s going to quit if she’s stuck on the register during rush hour one more time, and-”
“Okay okay, I’m coming!”
The rest of the morning was a blur of “Hi, how can I help?” and “Thank you, have a good day!” until I thought I was going to go crazy. So, a regular Thursday.
Five minutes before I got off work, he walked in. Expensive suit that looked like it cost more than my entire apartment, perfectly styled hair, and a sharp toothed smile that left me breathless.
“Hello-” his eyes flicked down to my nametag and then back up to meet my eyes- “Juno.”
I felt myself flushing but managed to get my automatic line out. He asked for venti non-fat dairy free latte with two shots of espresso and caramel drizzle, and I put the name down that he gave me. Rex Glass. A name as sharp as his smile.
I had to leave before his drink was ready, but his dark eyes haunted me for the rest of the week.
On Monday he came in again, this time in a bright pink floral suit. He smiled at me, but it was a different sort of smile. Less predatory, more...innocent?
“Good morning!” he chirped, and I blinked at him confusedly.
“Good morning?”
“Can I have a cinnamon apple spice frappuccino?”
“You want whipped cream with that?” I asked, focusing my attention back on the register.
“Oh yes, thank you.”
I could feel his smile even without looking at him.
“And can I get your name?”
As if I had forgotten his name. It would be a little bit creepy if I just put the name on the order like that though, so I asked anyway.
“Duke, Duke Rose!”
I whipped my head up to stare at him, but he just smiled at me as if nothing was wrong. I let it slide and finished charging the order.
He flashed a smile at me one more time, and with a murmured “Thank you, Juno,” he left.
Aaaand then he was back again. Different clothes, different name, but the same smile.
Sometimes he would loiter at the counter when things were slow, trying to flirt with me (“Juno, what a pretty name!” “Has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?” “Your smile is radiant.”), but other times he would just order his drink and leave, and I wouldn’t see him for a week.
He…he grew on me. All of the different names meant he was hiding something, but...somehow I didn’t mind.
Then one day, after “Tennyson Swan” had left, I found a note scrawled on a napkin.
My dear Juno,
As much as I have enjoyed getting to know you these past months, I am afraid I will be moving on. However, I do hope that today wasn’t the last time I ever see you. If you ever want to leave Hyperion Coffee behind, I would be happy to offer you a ride.
Ever your admirer,
Peter Nureyev xoxo
A phone number was scrawled on the bottom of the napkin in the same elegant handwriting as the rest. I stared at it for a long time before tucking it into my pocket, where it stayed while I finished my shift.
Back at home in my apartment again, I stared at the note until the words started to blur together. I read it so many times I had it memorized, but I took a moment to look at the number one more time.
I picked up my phone and dialed it, trying to ignore how much my hands were shaking. It rang twice and then...he picked it up.
👀? And maybe an original work if youre comfy sharing??
The door is large and wooden, and she bangs on it desperately, shouting.
“Open up! Please, please open the door!”
Another howl sounds through the woods and she turns to face the clearing again, pressing her back against the door. Her heart is pounding, her breath coming in gasps. The pressure of the wood against her back is grounding, until suddenly it isn’t there anymore. The door opens quickly and she falls backwards, but is caught by a pair of strong arms. She’s pulled inside, and the door is closed again as quickly as it opened, a large bolt thrown in place after it.
“I really don’t think you want to be hanging around out there anymore,” a slightly husky voice drawls. “Are you alright down there?”
She blinks up at the voice, trying to sort out her surroundings, and meets the bemused gaze of the large woman who caught her when she fell backwards. Another howl sounds outside and the woman’s head snaps to attention, a worried expression scrunching her features. It’s answered by another one, a little farther away, and a little of the woman’s tenseness eases. The woman lifts her to her feet and eyes her with dark brown eyes, taking in the muddy and torn hem of her dress and the collection of small cuts on her arms and face from running through the trees.
“Do you have an explanation for why in the name of the Lady you were out running alone in the woods on a night like this?”
[Send me a "👀" and a fandom and I'll share a wip of writing or art from this year!]
