midsommarnattens ljus (prompts post)

[harborshore]

Tonight is Midsummer Night's Eve. I realize I haven't yet finished the female characters prompts, but I promise I will (part of the problem is that I want to write epics for every one of those prompts, so I'm trying to slash them down to a manageable size--telling part of the story, if you will) and I couldn't let tonight go by without doing this. It's my favorite holiday, the shortest night of the year (technically that was on Monday, but hey), and it comes with dancing and the sea and food and magic.

So prompt me, dearlings. A pairing or gen (give me a character, then), a fandom (The Like, Bob and Brian, Veronica Mars, the Bats (DCU), BTVS, the Panic boys, Greta, Kitty and Lyn-Z...), and a quote from A Midsummer Night's Dream. They'll be my reward come Monday when I'm allowed to think about other things again.

And now I am off! An island awaits. ♥

Comments

[blindmouse.livejournal.com]

Annie/Tennessee, put a girdle round about the earth ♥

(Longest night? Is that a typo, or is your summer far stranger than I realised?)

[softlyforgotten.livejournal.com]

Ryan/Z, and I will sing, that they shall hear/I am not afraid.

♥ Enjoy your island.

[mahoni.livejournal.com]

I hope you have a lovely time!

Prompt: Bob in the Bat-verse (ship of your choice or gen) (or Brian, or Greta, I'm really not picky. :P)

I do but beg a little changeling boy,
To be my henchman.

[saekokato.livejournal.com]

Have a wonderful time!

Prompt: Bob/Brian; No, he hath simply the best wit of any handicraft/ man in Athens.

[crowgirl13.livejournal.com]

You already have a couple Bob/Brian - if you want to do more, then that would be keen. :) Otherwise, Bob on BtVS land, pairing [or not] of your choice.


They willfully themselves exile from light
And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night.

But we are spirits of another sort.

[sansets]

(Because I'm apparently totally obsessed and I blame you in part for it. ♥)

Batverse, Steph/Babs - I woo'd thee with my sword/ And won thy love, doing thee injuries

[x_dark_siren_x]

Wow, I cannot imagine the views you must get of sunset on Midsummer. I'm jealous (and a little confused - do you guys celebrate later, or is this a geographical thing?).

You would pick the one Shakespeare I can't quote a damn thing from off the top of my head...let's see...

Okay, how about Bob/Veronica Mars in the same verse as your Lyn-Z/Mac, and These are the forgeries of jealousy.

I know, it seems like a totally random line, but I always liked Titania best (she's got more sass than the rest of the girls put together, in my opinion), and there are a million and one things you could do with that line, either by itself or in the context of the rest of her speech. Um. Not that I'm telling you how to write it, or anything. >.<.

Oh! But could I request a happy ending, pretty please? (And some Weevil, if you can work him in, though he's not essential. I just think Weevil needs more love.)

An island? Really? You lucky, lucky thing. Have fun, darling. ♥

[delphinapterus.livejournal.com]

Am I too late?

Kitty/Brian

This falls out better than I could devise.

[almostblue.livejournal.com]

Laena/Annie.

Sound, music! Come, my queen, take hands with me,
And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.

:D?

[egelantier.livejournal.com]

z/charlotte,

Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung,
With feigning voice verses of feigning love

[harborshore.livejournal.com]

♥!

A BRAT, AM I?

[extemporally.livejournal.com]

*cackles*

1. Midsummer Night's Dream!

The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst
are no worse, if imagination amend them.

gen, B. Urie

2. angsty Julius Caesar

A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

Charlotte & Z (pairing or gen, anything's cool!)

3. Something Else

My paper wings soar,
brush
your blazing heart. source

gosh I am so tempted to make you write skating fic for me... Laena/Annie!!! From your high school verse.

idk if you're still doing it but...

[dancinbutterfly.livejournal.com]

Spencer/Ryan

(and the quote, because I genuinely cannot BELIEVE that no one used it -really)

"The course of true love never did run smooth."

[harborshore.livejournal.com]

Annie always thought fairies were supposed to have wings. And be tiny. And--well, be imaginary. But the glowing girl in her garden had no wings, and she made definite tracks in the grass, and she was also very tall and very naked. And swearing.

"Can, can I help you?" Annie asked, and tried not to think about all the stories that said not to offer fairies anything (they'd take the whole cow and the barn besides if you gave them a glass of milk, her grandmother had said).

The girl looked up. "Oh! No, no, it's very kind of you to offer, but I flew so fast I lost my wings and I have to go back, and--"

"Well, maybe I can help you look?"

"Mortals can't see--come to think of it, mortals shouldn't even be able to see me at all." The girl came closer and took hold of Annie's chin, peering into her eyes. "You must have a touch of fairie, Annie Monroe."

Annie couldn't look away from that gaze, so steady on her. "My grandmother got fired from at least five jobs because she kept saying things she shouldn't have known about," she offered.

"That might, yes," the girl said. "In that case, I suppose you could potentially help me, couldn't you."

So they looked for her wings together, and Annie found out the girl was called Tennessee because the fairy court had once passed through there and stopped to upset a concert ("My queen has a sense of humor," Tennessee said. "I suppose I'm fortunate she didn't name me Nashville."), and she found out Tennessee had come here from halfway across the world.

"But why here?" Annie said. "There's nothing in this town. I teach kids piano and grow plants and every day is the same."

Tennessee didn't answer her, she just smiled, and Annie sighed and kept looking.

They found Tennessee's wings lodged in the rose bushes, and Annie thought for a second that meant they were ruined. She fought hard to keep the smile from her face: Tennessee obviously needed her wings, it wasn't fair of Annie to be happy just because she might stay.

Tennessee made a pleased noise though, and petted at the roses a little, and then the wings were in her hand. She raised them and then she shimmered, and Annie gasped. Tennessee had already been glowing but now she shone brightly.

She was the most beautiful thing Annie had ever seen, and now she would leave.

Tennessee held out a hand to Annie and said, "Come along, then."

Annie shook her head. "What do you mean?"

"I was sent to find a seer," Tennessee said, and took Annie's hand in hers, smoothing her fingers over Annie's. "And a player, too, a music-maker. Come with me."

Annie breathed in and tried to think about what she'd be leaving, but mostly, oh, a way out of here, a way out--"Yes," she said. "Yes. Only promise I won't be gone for a hundred years."

"Time passes differently with us," Tennessee said, "but not as different as all that." She was smiling again when Annie stepped in close, and then everything shimmered and they were gone.

[blindmouse.livejournal.com]

Nashville Thomas ♥

1/2

[harborshore.livejournal.com]

They called her Z. No last name, no full name, nothing that could identify her.

Ignoring the rain, Ryan wedged his way into the crowd and turned his face up. There she was, bathed in stage lights, short blond hair messier than usual, the short skirt she wore in defiance of every regulation regarding women's clothing clinging to her legs. Ryan couldn't breathe, and she wasn't even singing yet.

And then she opened her mouth. No one sang like her. Every word sharp, every note clean and cutting and growled at the sky; she made them all silent, she made them all listen, and she made them unafraid. The signal for the raid came, and they scattered to the winds, but they ran like they could fly, this time. From where he was hiding, Ryan saw the ones who were caught, how there was no fear in their posture.

Someone touched his back and he froze, turning slowly, and, oh. She was even shorter than she looked on stage, he thought, and tried to figure out what to say.

Z laid a finger to her lips, miming Shhhh. Ryan nodded. They waited there until they could be sure that every last Squad member had gone, and then she nodded at him.

"Thanks," she said.

Ryan ran his hand through his hair. "No problem, I mean, thanks, I mean, the show."

"It never ever feels like enough," she said.

"No, you--" he couldn't figure out how to put it. "You do so much," he said. "So much."

Z looked uncomfortable. "I have to," she said. "They took--anyway, I can't not do it." She looked tiny and tired and Ryan couldn't not say anything.

"If we win," he said, voice low, "if we win, it'll be because of you and the other singers. And the artists. You, you make everyone remember why we're doing it."

"You're in this too, huh?"

He shrugged. "I write stuff. I'm trying."

"What's your name, writer of stuff?" She sounded a little less weary, more amused.

"Ryan," he said. "Ryan Ross."

"Ross, huh." She bit her lip. "Seems to me I've heard that name before. Anyway, better come with me." She turned away, started getting out.

Ryan was stunned. "I--what?"

"You should come and meet more people who do stuff." She grinned at him over her shoulder; he'd pretty much follow her anywhere to see her do that again.

2/2

[harborshore.livejournal.com]

--

The old airplane hangar was full of people. Making art, sleeping on cots, eating out of tin cans. It was a mess, and Ryan loved it. Z led him straight through the crowd to a table where a short dark-haired guy was arguing loudly with a guy and a girl about chord changes, of all things.

"Brendon, Annie, Alex," Z said, pointing to each of them in turn. "This is Ryan. Brendon, I haven't seen his stuff yet, but he writes, so I thought maybe words for your music? Just a feeling I had."

Brendon grinned. "Sure, why not," he said, and the two girls got up and Ryan sat down. He was a little overwhelmed, but Z was--she wrote her own songs, she'd told him on the way over, so her instincts were probably alright for this stuff. He dragged his notebook out of his pocket and leafed through it until he got to the two songs he'd started in on.

"Here," he said. "Can you do something with those? I don't, like, where I live I can't play the guitar, so I can't ever do much to make actual music."

"Poetry is an artform too," Brendon said absently, "but I think, yeah, these are songs. I can--yeah. Go stare at Z or something, I can't write when people are talking to me."

A little huffily, Ryan got up and walked over to Z. She was on a sofa between Annie and Alex, feet in Alex's lap and head on Annie's shoulder.

"No word, still," she was saying in a low voice when Ryan reached them.

"I haven't heard anything yet either," Alex said.

Annie bit her lip. "She could still be okay," she said, but her voice was tired.

"I fucking hate this," Z said. "I fucking hate this so much."

Ryan swallowed. "Did someone get taken?" he said, and didn't think about Spencer at all.

Z turned to look at him. "My best friend," she said, and Ryan sat down right where he was standing. The concrete was hard on his knees, but that was okay.

"Mine too," he said. "Last month's raids on Vegas."

Z half-fell off the couch and went over to him. Before Ryan quite realized it, she was hugging him. "We're going to get them back," she said fiercely, voice hoarse.

Then cheers went up near the entrance. Ryan started at first, but then realized that cheers would be a good thing.

"We should go check on that," Alex said, and Ryan looked up to meet his amused eyes. "But feel free to stay and cuddle, Annie and I can bring you the news."

"No, we'll come. And shut up," Z said, struggling to her feet and offering Ryan her hand to help him up.

Shortly after, Ryan was introduced to Laena, who came bearing prisoner records for the nearest Squad holding facility on a chip she'd been carrying under her tongue for miles and miles.

"She's very good at what she does, huh," Ryan murmured to Z, watching Annie work at extracting the data from the chip and Laena leaning on the table next to her, muttering instructions for the encryption schemes that kept coming up. "You all are."

Z nodded, eyes fixed on the screen.

When Annie finally confirmed that yes, Tennessee Thomas was in cell 103Q, Z started crying. And when Annie read out all the names, and it turned out Spencer Smith was in cell 54F, Ryan hid his face in her hair and possibly did the same, just a little bit.

That night, he didn't sleep; him and Z sat on one of the couches and didn't talk, just kept each other company. Halfway through the night she took his hand and said, low, with the same intensity as earlier, like she was trying to conjure them up and make it all true: "We're going to get them back."

Re: 2/2

[softlyforgotten.livejournal.com]

Ughhhh, oh man, yes. Z finding him Spencer and music and a home, my heart *___*

Re: 2/2

[harborshore.livejournal.com]

It's one of those things where that prompt is so wonderful I couldn't ever hope to do justice to what it's like in my head, so it's like writing a shorthand for what the story actually should be. Pretend it's at least twice as long, will you? And consider it set in my bbb-verse from last year, too. ♥

[harborshore.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, but I'm not the type." Bob really thought he made that clear the first time.

Brian fucking Schechter, who was some sort of sorcerer's apprentice, looked up at him and smirked. "Not the type to have magic?"

Bob gritted his teeth. "I'm a fucking sound tech. That's what I do. Wires and tech and frequencies, sure, but those are real things."

"Well, when Zatanna told me my apprentice would be found at the Gotham show, I didn't believe it either. But them's the breaks, kid, you have magic and you need to learn how to use it."

They were in an alley outside the venue, and Bob had smoked approximately a pack and a half of cigarettes. He was a little stressed, was the thing.

"Look, asshole, I have a job. I can't take time off to go to Hogwarts."

"You need to take some kind of time off," Brian said patiently. "It's going to fuck you over if you don't."

"I've been doing fine so far," Bob insisted and lit another cigarette.

"Really?" Brian said. "No inexplicable electrical outages?"

Bob dropped his lighter.

Brian looked smug. "Yeah," he said. "That's what it'll do, until you either learn to work with it or, uh, the stage explodes."

That didn't sound like fun. Bob closed his eyes, then opened them again. "Fine," he said. "Tell me how to do this without losing my job, please."

Brian started, but they ended up having to finish it later at the hotel, because at this point about eight insane clowns came upon them in the alley, brandishing knives and pies and shouting about some kind of joker, and Bob found himself shoved behind Brian in order to "not be in the way," as the asshole put it, while Brian made short work of them.

Bob did have to hit the last one over the head with a trash can, because Brian had gotten distracted and then hit in the face with a pie. Which was apparently filled with something other than whipped cream, because he shouted and fell over.

When Bob hit the last one over the head, a boy wearing shorts and a cape swept into the alley. He bent down and sniffed at Brian.

"Chloroform," he said knowledgeably, and then grinned at Bob. "Nicely done, there. I take it you're his apprentice? A little more hands-on than the usual approach."

"No, I--" Bob gave up. "Yeah, I guess I am. Who were those guys?"

"Oh, they belong to the Joker. I'll take them in, don't worry about it. Get him back to a hotel instead, and order him some coffee to take the edge off. He'll be pretty groggy once he wakes up." The kid hesitated. "Uh, and then I'd get out of Gotham if I were you. It's not a great town to do magic in."

"It's a hell of a place, huh," Bob said, and the kid nodded.

"Good luck though," he said earnestly. "I'm looking forward to meeting you again."

Eventually they did, and Bob had to admit he hadn't seen Nightwing coming from the kid he met in that alley. But Dick was a hell of a fighter; Bob could respect that. And if Brian wasn't especially fond of him ("Stupid flashy tights," he muttered, and Bob grinned and kissed him), well, whatever, they fought together just fine.

[mahoni.livejournal.com]

OMG YAY! Bob is a sorcerer's apprentice's apprentice! But he is more hands-on than the typical apprentice! I love that his choice is to either let Brian instruct him or eventually accidentally blow up a stage. And Robin! And eventually Nightwing! They fight alongside Nightwing! This is awesome, thank you!

[harborshore.livejournal.com]

(It's possible Bob turned out to be a girl in this one. Oooops?)



"When am I gonna get you to tech for me, Bryar?" Brian was leaning on her sound booth. With anyone else, Bob would have been yelling (or at least glaring; she'd perfected an impressive glare over the years). But with Brian, well.

She shrugged. "When you can pay me what I'm worth, asshole." She continued adjusting levels; outdoor shows were a bitch, but there was a trick to it, if you could do pre-sound to check on shit.

Brian tilted his head. "I don't think that'll ever happen."

Uh, what? That was kind of-- "That's kind of a weird thing to say."

He looked oddly serious. "You're one of the best sound guys, I mean people, in the business. You know that, right? Paying you what you're worth is, like, a fucking expensive proposition."

She wasn't going to blush. Bob hadn't blushed in goddamn forever.

She was totally blushing. Dammit. "Thanks, I guess," she mumbled, and got a cigarette out to cover her confusion.

"Only telling the truth, Bryar, you know me," Brian said, and he looked like he wanted to say something else, but then shook his head. "Anyway, I just stopped by on my way to get coffee. You want anything?"

"You know how I like it," Bob said unthinkingly, and then closed her eyes. That wasn't--she wasn't obvious, she was never obvious.

Brian blinked. "I, yeah. Black, right?"

"Uh-huh." Bob was just going to wait until he left and then she was going to hit herself in the head a couple of times.

"Hey," Brian said, and Bob looked up. "I didn't, um. You're. Oh, fuck it." He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, fast like he was scared to do it. "That, okay? I do." He turned and walked off, calling, "I'll be right back with the coffee," over his shoulder.

Bob smiled a little, and decided to finish up while she waited for him to come back. Maybe they'd have enough time to take a walk. Or something. She still wasn't sure what had just happened, but she knew, oh did she ever, that she wanted to investigate a little further.

[harborshore.livejournal.com]

Brianne stretched her arms out, feeling the crackle of twilight at her fingertips. Her tattoos moved with her, dancing under her skin. Ha, yeah, this, fucking this; tonight was going to be big, she could feel it already.

Leaping from her oak to the next one and the one after that--she was being slow, really, so she could watch the forest change under her as the sun set--she called out under her breath and everything, everything answered.

This was her job: Brianne hadn't seen another fairy for months (being put in charge of the most remote forest in the land meant that visitors were scarce, especially if you were known for being territorial and prone to anger), but she didn't really mind it. Her own thoughts were better company than the rest of them and their games. Brianne didn't play, and so they didn't like her.

She was halfway through the oaks when movement in a clearing made her freeze in mid-air and touch down on the ground. Someone was picking flowers; a human was picking flowers. That just wasn't on, not on Brianne's land.

Making that shift that made her visible, she started walking closer to the human. She cleared her throat when she was close enough, and the human startled and turned.

Brianne froze. Those were, her eyes, the bluest blue she'd ever seen. Instead of telling the human to keep out, instead of pulling the forest about her and throwing her out, she reached out and touched the human's face.

"You shouldn't be here," she said, but her voice was soft, not at all what she meant it to be.

"Sorry," said the human, the girl. "I didn't mean--I didn't know it belonged to someone."

"Why did you come?" Brianne swallowed, trying to breathe slow, breathe like a person did, not fast like a fairy. Her heart felt like, like it was hammering. So odd.

"I needed herbs," the girl muttered. "I'm the healer's apprentice, so--" she waved her hand at the flowers in her basket. "They told me not to, but I've walked through worse places than this one."

Brianne saw a brief flash of those places on the wind and winced. "You shouldn't have to," she blurted. What was this? She was never like this; she always knew what she was going to say before she said it.

"I go where I'm needed."

You're needed here, Brianne thought, and never ever leave me. Out loud she said, "Well met by moonlight, healer girl. Will you walk through my forest with me? I can get you the herbs you need."

"I suppose," said the girl. "Tell me who you are though, first. I don't go walking with strangers." That was a smile, there. A smile and a slight blush.

Brianne took a deep breath. "Brianne," she said. "This forest is--you could say I guard it. Now tell me your name." Names were important.

"Roberta," said the girl. Brianne smirked. "Or Bob, please. Roberta is stupid."

"Bob," said Brianne. "I can do that. It suits you better than Roberta."

"Don't I know it," Bob said ruefully.

--

The night fell around them and Brianne could feel the wonder of her forest as they walked, the way the air softened in response to how Brianne could hardly keep herself from touching, couldn't keep herself from smiling. The branches rustled apart for Bob, the roots withdrawing to let her walk without falling, just like they did for Brianne, like they loved her because Brianne did, abruptly and heart-stoppingly.

Even when the stars came out, it didn't feel like real darkness. Brianne thought she'd never see true night again, not if Bob was there. Swallowing all the things she wanted to say, she kept walking next to Bob, who never asked about her tattoos or her strange clothing but kept smiling down at Brianne, kept on smiling until Brianne couldn't breathe with it.

At dawn, Bob left the woods to go back to her village, and Brianne couldn't help herself, leaning in and kissing her cheek and then turning to go back before she could see Bob's face. A hand on her shoulder turned her back around; Bob's cheeks were a little pink.

"I don't know what you are," she said, "but I'll be back tonight. I just--thank you." She touched Brianne's bare shoulder quickly, and Brianne bit her lip to cover how that felt. "Tonight, okay?" Bob said.

Brianne nodded. "Tonight." And every night hereafter, she thought.

[saekokato.livejournal.com]

:DDDD! How did I forget about this? IDEK, but a surprise schmoopy Bob/Brian ficlet in my inbox is the perfect thing to wake up to!

I love how sure of themselves they are, but how they so totally have no idea how to use that surety when it comes to each other. They are so awkwardly adorable! And Bob, trying so hard to maintain her boundaries and who she is as the sound girl, is still willing to go for it when Brian takes advantage of the situation to tell her he likes her - in the most high school, ass backwards, adorable way ever, OMG, I love him for that - and! They seriously are so adorable!

And, really, I do love how much this Bob is, seemingly, willing to take risks. Because she is the sound person, and that's an important position on a tour - it has to be - but Brian? Even if they don't technically work together or if neither of them work for each other, Brian is a manager (tour and/or band), and that means he's other peoples' boss/supervisor. The issues that could arise should they start seeing each other romantically could have huge professional setbacks.

I love a Bob who is willing to take risks, because what else was joining MCR? I mean, leaving a highly lucrative career for a band that no one knew if it would even stay together another six months? So totally a risk. I think people too often see Bob's shyness in front of the cameras as a form of insecurity about his abilities/self, and. Well, it's nice to see a story where that isn't blatantly the case. Especially for a female version, which, btw, I totally love and adore! How did you know? ;D

Thank you! And sorry for the random babble up there. ♥

[harborshore.livejournal.com]

(I understand, trust me. ♥)


"How was that?" Steph asks, feeling for loosened teeth with her tongue. Her jaw is swollen (small wonder, with the punches she took) and her shoulder hurts, but other than that, tonight was the first patrol where she came out ahead, really ahead.

"Not bad," Oracle says, voice dry as ever. "You still telegraph every left-handed move, but you've gotten faster and you still don't stay down for anything."

Steph grins, because praise from Oracle--from Babs--is all too rare, and every time it happens she feels like someone has given her a great shiny gold star. "Am I done for the night, then?"

There's a silence at the other end of the line. "Actually, if you could swing by before you head out, that would be great."

"Sure thing," Steph says, not thinking about what the tentative tone means, and then she's up in the air again, the closest thing to flying she can think of (not counting lifts with superpowered friends). She resists the urge to yell "Wohoooo!" as she swings (she did it once when she was Spoiler; Tim didn't talk to her for a week after that), but she thinks it, and she's not surprised when Oracle laughs at her.

"Do refrain from scaring the population at large." Babs has always been near-telepathic, especially with Steph.

"I will, I will. Promise." Especially if it gets her what she wants.

--

Steph mostly patches herself up, Babs providing dry commentary about how she wouldn't have to ice her jaw if she'd just duck faster.

Steph halts at that, looking over at her. "Seriously, duck faster? That's your advice? What happened to the great all-knowing Oracle, who always out-strategizes everyone else?" She shakes her head mournfully. "I'm going to have to tell Batman about this, I think."

Barbara mutters something about this all being his fault, anyway (Steph's not sure which Batman she means) and then she's reaching out for Steph, careful hand circling around her wrist and pulling her close.

"I worry," she says. "I worry, and it occurred to be that I worry about you in a very specific way."

Oh. "Oh," Steph says.

"You can say no," Babs says. "In fact, you probably should say no. This never ends well."

Steph kisses her then, kisses her quiet. Barbara's hands are so careful on her jaw, like she knows (and she does know, of course) exactly how to hold in order not to hurt. Steph might be thinking about how to get her to play a little harder eventually, but she's also so very content to just stay here, under the lights of the kitchen, bruised up and tired and achy, and kissing Barbara. She doesn't need to move, not right now.