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[sticky post]Assemblage of Things Created
libris_dedita
Various media will hopefully be assembled here; I will update accordingly.

Fanfic:


Lord Peter WimseyCollapse )

Les MisCollapse )


Original Fic:


Four assorted shortsCollapse )


A drabble of goodbyeCollapse )

Musings in the Musain
libris_dedita
Joly hurried in, glad to be out of the cold and in the warmth of the Cafe Musain. Paris in November, with cold winds and the threat of snow and sleet, was not a place of which he approved or thought healthy. He called for some wine, and produced a bag of apples he had bought earlier, in the hope that they might stave off a chill.

Enjolras had been talking earlier about the prisons, and the dire conditions their inmates had to suffer. It made Joly think; that was a prison of the flesh, but prisons of the mind were far more insidious and far harder to attack. The mindset that caused people to turn away when the aristocrats apostrophised and scorned grisettes, for example; that was a difficult thing to neutralise.

Feuilly knew all about that, of course. Why, you could hear him talk for hours on how the aristos mistreated and mismanaged people! He was probably the one, of all of them, who appreciated it not only intellectually but emotionally. There he was now, telling Grantaire (the only one still listening) about the partition of Poland. No need to worry that he did not know his enemy.

Enjolras - well, one never quite knew with him. It would seem that he knew about such things, but they did not apply to him. He always seemed somewhat set apart from them all, perceiving what they did, and understanding it, but not doing so himself. A puzzle, still.

Jehan, of course, went his own sweet way. He would never be ruled by what society thought - indeed, one could hardly be sure that he knew at all! He seemed to have been born innocent of such things and never disabused.

The rest of them, though, including Joly himself, were all more or less bound by such dictates. Bahorel deliberately rebelled against them at all opportunities, and showed his awareness thus; Combeferre more effectively subdued them by ignoring them only when circumstances insisted that he should do so. Bossuet laughed at them, Courfeyrac tossed his head, and Grantaire got drunk to spite them.

What of he, himself? How bound was he in the prison of the mind? Joly did not know. He tried to ignore such inbred rules, but they were hard to distinguish from the dictates of conscience and morality.

He tossed aside his apple core and reached for his wine instead, leaning forward to hear more of whatever Jehan was talking of to Bossuet.

A goodbye, of a kind
libris_dedita
Today's bit of fic for you:

'It would have been easier, she sometimes thought, had she never known them.

It had never been easy, struggling through life alone, uncared for and always left out. They had given her tantalising glimpses of light, of laughter and happiness. She had clung to that, thinking she saw hope and kindness.

She was fond of them, of course; would have done anything for them. She did what she could as a matter of course. It had always been a long chance, always a struggle to pretend she was fine, unperturbed by always being on the edge.

And now they were leaving her, as she had always known they would. Forcing her to accept the truth which had always been so plain.

She sighed, and locked her thoughts and feelings away, hiding the key where only those who needed it would find it.'

Yay for random drabbles!

A collection of original ficlets
libris_dedita


One Moonlit NightCollapse )


If 50% of Westminster students go to Oxbridge, what happens to the rest?Collapse )


My take on Gothic HorrorCollapse )
A sequel to the aboveCollapse )


Pianos and sunshine
libris_dedita
The sunshine is certainly a rarity for this benighted country!

The pianos - having spent the last couple of months carefully practising on my school's baby grand in order to perform on it, my upright now feels like a toy piano. I feel some more practising is needed to grow used to it!

It's always worse with the various organs one plays, but you get used to that; I've not had such a change with pianos before.
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