#thinkofaugust

[bellinitini]

I love you ❤️ (this isn’t anonymous, because you’d know it was me!)

smh u tell me this all the time

[vera-dauriac]

thinkofaugust:

@vera-dauriac also writes some VERY good stuff, just saying, just saying!

So here I am, minding my own business on a Sunday morning, sipping my coffee, and I decide to go through my Activity, because I’m pretty sure I never answered some tag game and I’m not getting proper email notifications anymore for this account, when I see this Reply to this post, and I just have to give a giant *smooch* to thinkofaugust because she’s just too damned sweet!

[mostweakhamlets]

thinkofaugust replied to your post “I JUST HEARD A GIRL ON MY FLOOR SAY “No one likes Shakespeare” AND...”

My housemates boyfriend said the same and I was like "sure Jan."

if no one likes shakespeare than how is the most famous author of all time and been so successful and have thousands of scholars dedicated to his work

[alisoncooper]

You know I have to. 7. Anatole and Pierre.

I absolutely KNEW you were going to say that - I was just waiting for it to happen! (And I thank you for it!)

7. “How about we put the gun down and talk about this?”

“This is horribly stupid,” Anatole muttered to Pierre, handing him his gun. He kept his hand firm around the barrel as Pierre tugged the grip towards him. “My sister has treated you appallingly but it’s not worth dying over. He will kill you, you know he will.”

Over Pierre’s shoulder, Anatole could see Dolokhov was happily parading around with his own gun and winking at Helene. His confidence bordering on cockiness. Pierre took advantage of Anatole’s brief distraction to pull the gun completely from his brother-in-law’s hand. 

“What is my death to you?” he began. His words were halted by the cackle of his wife, who was watching as Dolokhov pretended to shoot Pierre in the head. 

“Or to her?” he continued, turning. His mouth overflowed with bitter venom. The Witch’s laugh finally died at the bottom of a shot glass.

“It is a great deal to me,” Anatole answered, pulling Pierre back by the shoulder to face him. 

He scanned Pierre’s bloodshot eyes and pinking face. He could feel the vodka tremors through Pierre’s shoulder and winced at the smell of red wine on his lips. 

Though drunkenly aged, Anatole still recognised something handsome in Pierre. His hair was effortlessly tousled, his soft cheeks added a subtle, conflicting youthfulness to his person, and even the slope of his nose made his face attractive. 

But he reeked of vulnerability and sorrow, and Anatole wasn’t sure Pierre would remember his words come the morning, if he managed to survive at all. “Pierre, it is a great deal to me,” he repeated, swallowing his fear. “Because…I lov-”

“Come on, Old Man,” Dolokhov taunted. “What’s keeping you?”

Pierre turned his head, snarling, and pushed Anatole aside. “Nothing,” he announced. “Nothing is keeping me. Anatole, tell me where to go and when to shoot and I shall be alright.”

Anatole straightened his waistcoat and tried to ease his anxiety with the smile of a showman. 

He couldn’t finish saying it, and now he might never get the chance again. The realisation sat heavy in his heart as he strode between Dolokhov and Pierre, holding out his arms and forced laughter. 

“How about we put the guns down and talk about this? No one need lose a life for the sake of Helene. I need not lose a friend or a brother tonight.”

“I refuse to reconcile with this scoundrel,” Pierre bellowed, pointing his gun towards Dolokhov. “Anatole, tell me when to shoot.”

Anatole looked to his friend with pleading eyes. 

Don’t do it. It’s not worth it. Let’s end this now. 

Dolokhov raised his gun and Anatole had no choice but to take ten steps back.

“Pierre, hold your fire,” he instructed. The tension rose in Anatole’s chest until he felt as though it would choke him. His head filled with images of Pierre’s body on the floor with Dolokhov standing over him. Blood everywhere. Blood trickling across the floor until it reached his feet. 

Anatole’s eyes became pricked with tears. If Pierre died now, that would be his fault for not protecting him as he had asked. But if he lived, he would tell Pierre the truth. Tell him how his heart ached for him.

“Hold your fire,” he repeated hoarsely, blinking away the possibilities as the corners of his eyes. 

A flash, a crack, a bang. A scream.

“Pierre, no!”

[perlahs]

Thought you might like to know that I saw a production of Othello the other week where Cassio was a lesbian!

G O O D

[bellinitini]

Writing Prompt: 9!

The small icon on MJ’s screen lit up; she had an ask. Eagerly, she clicked on to read the message, her face shifting into a deep frown as she read the words. 

Without hesitation she left, and took to the streets with bare feet and no explanation. She ran full pelt, dodging traffic and pedestrians without stopping. Days passed. Her lips dried and cracked from the assault of cold air on her face. Her feet bled. But still she ran. 

Eventually, she reached her destination: the coffee shop that Hannah loved so dearly. MJ tore into the cafe, heart racing as she locked eyes with her target. There she was, exactly where MJ had expected her to be.

MJ crossed the room to stand before her. She slammed her fist on the table, desperately gasping for breath between words. “But what fandom, Hannah? Which characters?”

Hannah sipped her coffee, not looking to MJ until she had placed the mug back onto its coaster. “Don’t ask me that,” she said.

[alisoncooper]

Three sentence fic: Vicbourne. A surprise birthday party. :)

his hands were gentle over her eyes as he guided her to the gilded hall - the champagne still effervescing on their tongues. a grin brightened melbourne’s world as her eyes spilled with joy when he finally allowed her to see the cake, the gifts, and friendly faces that screamed “happy birthday, your majesty.” victoria turned to him in reverence and thanks to drink more champagne from his lips.

send me a ship & au setting for a three sentence fic

[alisoncooper]

Headcanon: and/of: Cosette, Eponine, Raoul :)

What they smell like:cosette: baby powder, french vanilla, and fresh aireponine: cigarettes, coffee, and jasmine

How they sleep (sleeping position, schedule, etc):cosette: curled up against eponine’s side, peacefully, with a window wide open no matter the weathereponine: she can sleep anywhere but she doesn’t have any kind of schedule. she’ll mostly sleep when she’s tired

What music they enjoy:cosette: most music!! she’ll give anything a listen once and thinks listening to certain genres of music again and again is a real shame when there’s so many different styles that mean so many different thingseponine: rock and indie but cosette is slowly getting her into pop music

How much time they spend getting ready every morning:cosette: the average is about fifteen minutes; she doesn’t fuss around too much but she can take an hour on special occasionseponine: about ten minutes but there are days when her eyeliner will take about half an hour to get rightTheir favorite thing to collect:cosette: second-hand books from charity shops and car boot sales; especially those that have inscriptionseponine: old records and will often go to charity shops and car boot sales with cosette to find themLeft or right-handed:cosette: righteponine: ambidextrousReligion (if any):cosette: catholiceponine: atheist but she’ll sometimes go to church with cosette to spend more time with her but to also share in something so spiritually personal with the girl she lovesFavorite sport:cosette: she’s quite the fan of netball and it’s surprisingly good at it for someone so small; small but fierce and fasteponine: she’s really good at football but gets sent off a lot for aggression so she started boxing with bahorel too to get some of it out so she could still play football without getting kicked off the teamFavorite touristy thing to do when traveling (museums, local food, sightseeing, etc):cosette: she loves seeing all of the famous landmarks but also loves going to cafes and finding independent shopseponine: street food all the way! she’s a big foodieFavorite kind of weather:cosette: summer weather. hot, bright, colourful, no clouds in the sky. but with the constant chance of a storm during the night from the heateponine: cold air, dark clouds, orange leaves on the ground with the peace you get a few minutes before rainA weird/obscure fear they have:cosette: oh please, cosette fears nothingeponine: perhaps not weird/obscure but failure. she’s trying to overcome it thoughThe carnival/arcade game they always win without fail:cosette: she’s a true whiz at space invaders that people will often crowd around to watch her play iteponine: no-one knows how she does it but she’s amazing at “guess the number of sweets in the jar.” it’s honestly startling how close she gets to the real answer every time