#I have wips from Christmas its going to be so awkward to finish them now but the show must go on!!

[ilikecheeseitslit]

Once I find the exit to this never-ending labyrinth I will be back in business!

[dragonnan]

Author Interview Tag

Tagged by @aelaer a week or two ago, thank you!

Name: Tanya (among family I'm Nan or Auntie Nanny)

Fandoms: Sherlock, MCU, Psych, Prodigal Son, and a goodly collection of others

Where you post: For a number of years I posted on FFN but between the really shitty reviews and extremely cumbersome posting process I finally quit.  I posed on Psychfic while still an active part of that fandom but that, too, has pretty much ended.  I put a few stories on Wattpad but found it to be pretty meh. I now post exclusively to AO3.

Most popular multi-chapter fic: It's a tossup between “Fury” on Psychfic and “All Nighter” on AO3 – one based on comments and the other on Kudos.  Frankly “popularity” is really subjective because there's also stuff like read count and with comments, at least nearly half are replies from me and read count also includes re-reads as well as every time I clicked on the damn thing to edit so....

You know I'm just really not sure how to properly answer this??

Favorite story you’ve written so far: Like others have stated you can ask me this on three different days and get three different answers and there will be more than 1 fic mentioned every time so.... Because I write in different fandoms I just absolutely can't list a single fic.  The best I can narrow it would a fic from my top 3 fandoms.

Psych: Paint it Black.  I had read a fic where Shawn was gradually going blind and had really been enjoying it and the challenges it presented.  Sadly it was never completed.  As has happened before I decided I would write my own damn fic if I couldn't get a completed story so that was the primary motivation to start this.  What I most love about this is writing from Shawn's perspective as he navigates being blind and not knowing whether or not his condition is permanent.  I did my best to honor the experience of blind and partially blind people and tried to look beyond the cliché.

MCU: I have so much fun writing these stories! In spite of the dumpster fire the film canon became I do so love this sandbox and employing various forms of unfucking it.  So I'm gonna cheat a little and pick two for my faves here since one is a WIP.  Sed Diabolus.  I don't need to have completed it yet to know this will be my all-time favorite.  This is the first fic that has been entirely plotted out and OMG I'm so excited for iiiit!!  The second is Simple Math which seems like an odd choice given there's zero action – mostly just one character – hell, not even any whump.  But there is something about that deep dive into Tony's mindset that keeps this as a fave even though it was the first thing I ever wrote for the MCU.  I learned about Tony as I wrote this and I also worked my way through those motivations that bothered me regarding Stane.  Even years later I still mentally go back to this fic whenever I write Tony because I feel encapsulates the essence of how I see him as a character.

Sherlock:  Compared to other fandoms I'm still quite new to this fandom so I don't have nearly as many fics.  But I still have a favorite!  And, like with the MCU, it's the first story I ever wrote for this fandom; The Tiger and the Shark. Returning to a plot device I've employed in other fics, this one is built around a sexual assault and taking the character on a journey from that terrible event to the point where they rediscover themselves.  PTSD ever being my favorite form of whump I employ that fairly a lot in this story and employ some kinda radical methods for coping with those memories.  

Fic you were nervous to post: I mean until I start getting comments I'm a world of anxiety with every story I post.  But grabbing a specific fic that hit my nerves – that Sherlock fic I'd said was my fave certainly qualified.  Not only was it my first Sherlock fic – it also was charging out of the gate with a very heavy topic so yeah – I wasn't sure if people would absolutely hate it or find my characterizations totally off or what.

How you choose your titles: It varies a bit.  In some stories, like Sed Diabolus, I actually consult friends on various ideas.  Other times I'll consider songs or lyrics and my favorite thing is if I can alter the known title just a bit to make it more relevant to the fic (I did that a LOT with Psych fics which was the method the show also employed for its episode titles).  One of my favorite Psych titles is “The Wizard Was the Wicked Witch and the Scarecrow Lost His Courage”.  

Do you outline: Almost never – not until “Sed Diabolus”.  That story, though, is so astoundingly complex that without an outline I'd be hopelessly lost.  I am, though, trying to make a practice of outlining more because it helps SO much!

Complete: If we count every one-shot collection and challenge collection it likely is over 200 stories. Of course a lot of those are one-shots.  My total completed chaptered fics number maybe around 34?

In progress: 16 – between Psychfic and AO3.  All Psych stories are on long-term hiatus for the foreseeable future (some, honestly, I will never finish as they are many many years old and I've lost the inspiration for the plot). Several MCU stories are also on the back-burner while I focus on “Sed Diabolus”.  I admit I get LOTS of story ideas and staying focused on a single fic is not something I've ever been greatly successful with.

Coming soon/not yet started: I meaaaan.... lots?? I have probably several hundred ideas and partially started fics across many fandoms.  As to “imminently coming soon...” I don't think I currently have an active story that I haven't already posted at least a first chapter.  Sadly I have zero patience for developing something for months before posting which is why I have so many WIPs.  That said I DO have a Sherlock au that has been poking at me now and then involving the witch trials that started in Denmark and, eventually, made their way to Salem.  The idea would be that Molly Hooper is accused of being a witch.  She, of course, is innocent but cause this unfortunate attention due to her “uncanny” ability to heal the sick and injured (not so much uncanny as opposed to employing methods that aren't so reliant on superstition and folklore).  

She is scheduled to be tortured and executed but is saved by Sherlock – a strange recluse primarily ignored and given a pass as he solves mysteries for people. He and his friend John save Molly from this awful fate. The twist is that Sherlock is a sorcerer (bit of marvel crossover-ish) and able to transport them to safety.  

Do you accept prompts: I wish I could cause I love ideas but I don't have the time/energy to always work on what I already have and I'm awful at follow thru.  Like I will never turn away an Ask wanting to share ideas but I can't promise that I can actually write anything.

Upcoming story you are most excited to write:  As was the reply to a previous query – I have lots that are ideas that will linger in partial stages for sometimes years.  If it's “upcoming” I've already posted the first chapter lol!  But, again, I have several story ideas that whenever I poke through my folders I get excited about someday actually writing them.  Here is a teaser for an MCU fic involving Tony Stark and Obie (I still feel this was never explored enough – certainly not in fic):

They were doing a retrospective, ten year anniversary kinda... whatever.  Unofficial, of course. Certainly nothing Pepper would have dreamed up even at her most drunk (which, honestly, was never her scene.  Tony had sorta owned that space well beyond the time it had started owning him).  Whose idea it ultimately had been?  Frankly Tony couldn't give a fuck.  That he was asked to be one of the speakers was slightly more... awkward. Awkward was the right word, yeah?  Nauseating was certainly another and possibly a bit more accurate.

Dead for a decade and Obadiah Stane still managed to fuck with his life.

But... it hadn't always been that way. At least, not as he'd believed back when the Walkman had been on every kid's Christmas list.  

He'd thought it was bonding; at the time.  His dad had never been one for just hanging out; shooting the shit; telling tales out of school.  No, Pops, when he bothered to interact, led with questions.  “You keeping your grades up?” “You still seeing that floozy?” “When are you going to pull your head out of your ass and grow the hell up?” “You do realize it's my name you're disgracing every time you go on a bender?”

With Obie it was just, easy.  Obie might ask about school but it was always with approval and pride.  He would discuss Tony's conquests as though Tony had climbed Kilimanjaro wearing nothing but underwear and a cape.    

Obie was there when his father wasn't. Which meant that Obie was always there.  The first time he got astoundingly drunk on his father's scotch, Obie was the one to help him hunch over the toilet and vomit expensive, aged booze into the toilet.  Obie was also the one to replace the depleted bottle to keep Howard in the dark.  For a fourteen year old kid still trying to gain his dad's favor, that had meant everything.

He saw his first porn with Obie; sex education ala Traci Lords, three months shy of his fifteenth birthday.  That was the same time he was introduced to weed.  Obie had cautioned him to use it sparingly; didn't want to fry that genius brain, he'd say, and ruffle his hair.  The porn had made him uncomfortable.  Obie had turned it off and told him they could watch whatever Tony wanted.  They'd ended up changing the station to Knight Rider; smoking and munching Cheetos and laughing over their orange fingers.

It was Obie who was there, arm around his shoulders, after his parents died.  He desperately didn't want to sob in front of the man.  Things were so complicated with his dad that all he felt was blinding guilt... as though some part of him had caused this.  But Obie had filled him with bourbon until the emotions got soft around the edges and he'd sat beside the older man, head tipping gradually to the right until he was held up by Obie's shoulder.  Obie had just slung an arm around him and let Tony pass out while he rubbed a broad hand up and down his bicep.

It was strange, now, looking back with adult perspective.  A perspective that included Afghanistan and his intended execution while Obie talked about legacy and responsibility while Tony's lungs slowly seized.  He'd taken the time to sit there – arm around Tony's shoulders while one broad hand traveled up and down Tony's bicep – just like when he was a kid and Obie was the whole world.

He'd tried to remember if it had felt so... tainted... at the time.  Or if he'd always believed it was love.

Obie had never quite crossed that line. Though hindsight offered a peek into that possibility with enough clarity Tony had fought with his cramping gut for nearly thirty minutes.  He'd staved off vomiting though he was fairly certain his dignity had still been in tatters what with Bruce wandering in on his misery.

Upcoming story you are most excited about (this is basically a repeat of the above question so I decided to change it.  Do you have a future story idea you'd like to write that is not yet beyond the vague idea stage?  I love stories that put Molly in some sort of jeporady and I have a barely formed idea to someday write a “stalker fic” of some sort and not I don't care that this trope had been done on  repeat – I still love it lol!  I have a smidge of writing for it:

“I need your help.”

As afternoons at Baker Street went, this was a mundane request heard so often that Sherlock's typical reply, “Obviously, or you wouldn't be here”, could have been printed on flash cards.  The detective had actually made the suggestion after a particularly full day at the flat and having heard the statement no less than twenty times.  

Today, however, Sherlock merely blinked for a moment.  Then, with an awkwardness rare to a man with a lethal sort of grace in his movements, Sherlock gestured to John's chair, JOHN'S CHAIR, before taking his usual seat.

Molly didn't exactly smile but her lips edged up a bit before she sat.

John cleared his throat before pointing a vague hand towards the kitchen.  “I'll just go make some tea, shall I?”

“No, please, I...”  The stammer in her speech was not uncommon; though John couldn't recall such obvious fear.  Forgoing the kitchen he, instead, took the hard wooden chair facing the other two.

“Molly, what's wrong?”

Tagging: @kitcat992 @mizjoely @sgam76 @ariaadagio @hanuko @ceruleanmindpalace 

[jadeile-writes]

Fanfic Progress Update 43

Hey~ It’s Saturday, so it’s time for Fanfic Progress Update! Stay tuned to the end of this post for a spoiler-y glimpse into the next chapter of Adventure Gone Mini AND the next chapter of Shit, the Radio Demon is a part of my afterlife.

Current WIPs:

Adventure gone Mini

Fandom: Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild / The Minish Cap

Summary: Sidon is given his very own Sheikah Slate, the first replica Purah has managed to make, and sets out to travel with Link with the intention of registering warp points for convenient travel in the future. However, when a malfunction shrinks them down to the size of bugs, and they meet little people called the Minish, they have to change their plans from “fun adventuring” to “getting out of this mess”. Not that those two have to exclude one another. Link/Sidon.

Progress: Chapter 32 is the current latest chapter and was posted on 18th of December. Chapter 33 has been started and is scheduled for 8th of January. Yes, progress was made; there was about one paragraph last Saturday, and now it’s actually properly started.

I update this fic every three weeks on Wednesdays.

—–

Shit, the Radio Demon is a part of my afterlife

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Summary: Husk is just your everyday demon, minding his own business and living his afterlife mostly in self-caused misery. He’s been at it for about ten years when he rather abruptly finds himself on the Radio Demon’s radar. Suddenly his life becomes a lot more interesting. For fuck’s sake, he did not ask for this bullshit.

Progress: Chapter 3 is the current latest chapter, and was published on 20th of December. Chapter 4 will be published on 27th of December. Chapters 5-13 are also ready and waiting. About half of chapter 14 is written as well. The final chapter count will be either 16 or 17, so yay for more chapters!

I will update this fic every Friday. This may change to twice a week (Tuesday and Friday) once I get the whole thing written out and no longer have to reserve writing time for it.

—–

Radiohusk that makes me question my life choices (workname)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Summary (temporary): Alastor and Husk make out and have pillow talks that range from cute to mildly disturbing to glimpses of Alastor’s backstory. Alastor is an awkward asexual who never really did romance because of that and now truly doesn’t know what he is even getting himself into. Basically a PWP but without smut.

Progress: No progress. I may just set this one aside for now, and possibly never properly finish (in which case it’ll end up on my website at some point). It’s a hot mess.

—–

Drunk Alastor (workname)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Summary (temporary): Roles are reversed in many ways when a drunk Alastor knocks on Husk’s door and has no intention of going to his own room for the night. Why yes, the author has one specific goal to get to here (no, not that one, eww), and you guys are going to love it, mwahaha! Oneshot, Alastor/Husk.

Progress: I’d say this is… maybe 2/3rds done. Or at least half done. It’s a long oneshot anyway. No progress since last Saturday. I’ve been hella busy with Christmas preparations, so I decided to concentrate on Afterlife with the little time I have. I’ll get back to this at some point, probably after Christmas.

—–

Other WIPs I’m not currently working on but intend to get back to someday:

PoE Drabbles (Pillars of Eternity)

DC Drabbles (Justice League)

Diaphanous Relations (Forgotten Realms, R.A. Salvatore’s books)

Rolling with it (Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild)

Possibly worth staying for (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

—–

That’s it for the WIPs! Here are the promised sneak-peeks into Mini and Afterlife. (Note: the text may end up slightly different in the fics themselves due to more editing happening before publishing). Enjoy!

Mini

Link and Sidon woke up nice and early, well rested and eager to face the day. They ate a hearty breakfast on a bench near the marketplace with Link taste-testing the local specialities – super expensive roasted spider leg for one – and Sidon mostly eating from his own stash, as there was nothing that would satisfy his hunger available. They hoped that the town at the entrance of the Lost Woods would have a better selection. After all, the forest there was all misty and damp, so frogs were a likely find. After they were done eating, they headed to the library. Librari was sorting books that had been left in the return box overnight, or had possibly been brought in this morning by the early birds. She looked up when they entered, and smiled widely.

Afterlife

Husk glared at his radio. It was sitting innocently on the glass top of its designated small, round table in the corner, like a regular old radio should. The problem was that today he planned to use it as a telephone, like a good little lunatic, to call a serial killer over. Yes, the act would be exactly as crazy as it sounded. At least there was nobody around to judge him for it, and he didn't need to explain shit to anyone regardless. No, it was just him judging himself, and that was the fucking worst.

He didn't actually want to invite the Radio Demon over. He didn't want to invite anyone over, period. But he had made a promise in his moment of weakness the last time they met and one didn't make promises to homicidal maniacs and then break them. He was stuck in this situation whether he liked it or not.

That’s it this time. See you next Saturday!

AO3    FFnet    Purple Crayon    Ko-fi

[evak-fic-rec-turtleanon]

Evak Fics - Reconciliation

Read the tags as a few might be open ending. And in some of these they were still together in the beginning. Man, this list is angsty! I’m already planning on rereading them.

This will be under a read more.

Light by bri_ness (885 words) - Open ending. Even lays a beach towel down on the small patch of grass beside his apartment building’s parking lot, right beside the dumpster. He knows romance can thrive in spite of its setting. He looks at the stars, and he remembers. 

pull him back by hippopotamus (2k words) - “That’s my hoodie,” Isak says. “You left it at mine,” Even replies, as if Isak wasn’t fully aware of that. “And you didn’t ask for it back.” 

Resolution by bri_ness (2k words) - Isak's residency has him questioning his decision to be a doctor. When he's home for the holidays, he runs into Even, who gives him a new perspective. 

No One Knows Me Like You Do by obscurial (2.6k words) - He’s also shockingly sober, which only serves to remind him that fuck, he doesn’t even have an excuse for randomly messaging his ex-boyfriend of two years, out of the blue, at a socially unacceptable time to text your ex, if there even was one in the first place. 

Still Unformed by colazitron (3k words) - Even and Isak broke up a few years ago when Even moved to Germany to attend film school. Now he's moved back to Oslo. 

there's no one else I'd rather do this with by daddyhonkkk (3k words) - Even still has the extra Gabrielle ticket Isak got him for his birthday, but that was before they broke up. 

Like Breathing by BraveKate (3k words) - Even invites Isak to the premiere of his first movie. Part of a series but could be read as a standalone. 

left-handed by thekardemomme (3.5k words) - even always asks questions he doesn’t want to know the answers to. 

If Only by Stria (Asia117) (3.6k words) - Chatting with a random stranger that turns out to be your ex trope.

o night divine by thekardemomme (4k words) - This is the first Christmas in nearly five years that he’s spending without Isak, and while he still decorated his apartment and bought eggnog and spent an excruciating amount of time wrapping all of his gifts perfectly, the hole in his heart hasn’t gone unnoticed. 

Homesick by everything_else (4k words) - 5 times they take care of each other after the break up. +1 

Waking up to Nothing by dropdeadfox (4.6k words) - It’s been six months since Even has seen that grumpy- but- adorable pout on the most perfect pair of lips imaginable to men (and women). It’s been six months since he has heard that voice, it’s been six months since he has seen the most perfect, emerald- green eyes, gazing back at him. 

42 Seconds by thekardemomme (5k words) - Sunday is Isak’s ideal day. The day he looks forward to. This Sunday, Isak wakes up at 1pm, and the room is dark. The bed is empty and there’s no smell of breakfast. Even hasn’t slept next to him all week. The only thing that’s the same as every other Sunday for the past 23 months is the fact that Isak doesn’t want to get out of bed. 

Inbox: (1) New Email by scritch (6k words) - A story about falling back in love, one tweet, instagram post and email at a time 

the one where even says the wrong name by pansexuaIeven (6.5k words) - Even's getting married to Sonja, not Isak. The real question is: does he know that? Inspired by Friends. 

Shatter Me by givemesumaurgravy (6.6k words) - Even’s crying, he has been since the words ‘I slept with someone else’ left his mouth. To be honest, he’s been crying for hours since he got home from Mikael’s. Isak just sits there stoically and he says, “I’m not going to yell or any of that. I’m just going to make this really fucking awkward and uncomfortable for you.” “I want you to tell me everything that happened,” 

That look you give that guy by Lokkanel (7.4k words) - Isak and Even love each other in secret. It is almost thrilling at first, but when hiding and lying to their friends begin to take a toll on Even, Isak decides to end it all. He thinks he has taken the right decision, until Even eventually moves on with someone else. 

Calleth You, Cometh I by Kollakolan (8.4k words) - “Isak!” Mikaels pipes up. “Didn´t you two have a thing?” he turns to Even. A thing, Even thinks to himself. Yes, Isak and him definitely had a thing. They actually had a low-key thing going for years, but it never really turned into something more. The timing was never right.  

We Keep This Love in a Photograph by kapplebougher (8.7k words) - It's been four weeks since Isak and Even made the decision to call it off. Now, Isak's back in their apartment of seven years and he's supposed to be moving out, but then he stumbles upon some memories that makes doing that a little difficult. 

Our Steady True North by verlore_poplap (orphan_account) (9k words) - Five times Isak and Even were amicable; plus one time they just weren't. Plus an epilogue 

In Vino Veritas by Sabeley (9.9k words) - After seven years apart, Isak wakes up to find Even in his bed and a wedding ring on his finger.

What becomes of the broken hearted by Kikki1 (12k words) - Set many years after Skam ended. Isak is living the life he always dreamed of. He has a good job, amazing friends and a superhot boyfriend. But his heart is forever broken. 

we still fuck by evak1isak (13k words) - Isak and Even had broken up. Period. But they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.  

Heal My Heart for Christmas by iwritetropesnottragedies (recklesslee) (13.5k words) - It’s been ten years since Isak left his small town for the big city of Oslo with his father. He hardly even thought of his time there anymore. Until he received a letter from his mother asking him to come home for Christmas for the first time since he had left. 

in these deep solitudes and awful cells by hippopotamus (14k words) - it ends badly. so badly that they both wish they could forget about it. they meet again a few weeks later, and it’s hard to remember why it had to end. 

If I Should Fall Behind by MinilocIsland (14k words) -  The plan for tonight had been crystal clear. Stay close to his best friend, and steal her away if needed. Hold her hand through the ordeal of meeting Noora again for the first time in years. Then Even shows up – and suddenly, nothing goes the way it was supposed to.

The Good Side by lavenderlady by (15k words) - Isak got the good side of the break up. 

And after that and after that by Teatrolley (18k words) - They’re friends, and roommates, and exes. Then Even becomes single again 

you told me we were forever by Skamtrash (19k words) - they don’t exactly get back together. Isak finds out he's having a baby soon after Even breaks up with him so he makes the decision not to tell him. Except Even finds out on his own 3 years later. 

I'll be right beside you by hannakin (20k words) - ”It’s ironic isn’t it? I broke your heart and now mine is not working,” Isak continued. “Isak…” Even fought against the lump in his throat and the tears that burned behind his eyes. see the sequel below  

Don't Dream It's Over by hannakin (11k words) - WIP last update march 2019. A new chance at life for Isak and a new shot at love for them that Even is not going to waste. Not this time around. 

Let Me In by milk_o_vich (20k words) - Even’s eyes were wide and a little unfocused, flitting over Isak nervously. He was quiet for a long time, rain hitting the pavement outside, and Isak became kind of aware that Even must be freezing in his thin, damp t-shirt. Even pressed his lips together, then said, voice hoarse and quiet, “Can I stay here tonight?” 

Just give me a reason, just a little bit’s enough by Amfelia (21k words) - Even discovers life is not always shiny and bright, sometimes it is just really hard. 

shred by Jules1398 (22k words) - There were two versions of Isak Valtersen. The first Isak was the one that his friends knew. The second Isak, the real Isak, was much more complicated. He was trans, gay, and then there was his five year-old son, Adrian. Keeping the two Isaks separate wasn't that difficult. At least, not until he saw Even again. 

and you fight until the finish line carries you home by strangetowns (23k words) - “Did you love him?” Isak looked down at the glass in his hand, the wine he’d barely had any of. He shrugged, carefully noncommittal, and glanced at Even out of the corner of his eye, raising an eyebrow at his expression. “What, are you jealous?” “Hearing it makes me glad, actually.” “Why?” A beat of silence. Then - “You deserve all the chances at happiness you can get, Isak.”

We're Not Broken Just Bent by TotallyTinkerbell (26k words) - They had made a decision that didn’t fall easy on either of them. A decision that still kept Isak awake at night in his bed that was too big and in his kitchen that was too empty in the mornings. On the couch in front of his tv-cabinet which was void of Even’s film collection, and in his hallway which no longer had a dozen pairs of shoes in it. 

Self Control by nofeartina (28k words) - “I never meant to hurt you, Isak.” Without any pause Isak replies, “Well, you did.” He looks him in the eyes, and continues. “You fucked me up, Even.” 

Reflections by Laika_the_husband (30k words) - He started walking, listening to Even’s footsteps behind him. Fucking Even. Isak knew he didn’t do this on purpose, that it was just an episode, but he had just grown so tired of them. Every time Even relapsed Isak remembered how only a few years ago he had sworn to take care of him forever. How certain he had been, back then, that minute by minute would turn into day by day and week by week and year by year and then into forever. 

Different, but same by Crazyheart (31k words) - Isak and Even had broken up almost a year ago, and Even was devastated. At Easter he tried to get over it and went on a ski holiday with Yousef and Elias. At the cabin he met a guy that looked like Isak, except his dark, buzz cut hair, well trained body and rough, charismatic personality. The fact that he called himself Markus Simensen was even more confusing 

Scene Three, Take Two by folerdetdufoler (31k words) - Isak is 23, a student in the veterinary program at NMBU, and working an internship at a clinic in Kongsvinger. He hasn't seen Even in three years, but randomly bumps into him on the street when he's visiting his mom in Oslo. 

No day without it by skambition (32k words) - And his lips. Those goddamn lips. They brought back memories that Even had tried to forget about for like 10 years now, memories of laughing, smiling, kissing. 

and the whole world is empty by dreamer_of_dreams (45k words) - The conversations were always stilted and quiet and benignly untrue. The phone calls eventually petered out. So, Even did what he thought was right for Isak. On an ordinary Thursday, eating dinner next to each other on the couch, Even looked up from his bowl of noodles, glanced at the clock ticking 9.21 pm and said, “I think we should break up.” 

Every Minute Gets Easier by CrochetingWords (50k words) - His life had turned out beyond his wildest dreams. It was amazing, and when it got bad from time to time, that was still fine, it was still worth it, because the bad times were just a glimpse in their epic story and the good times were just so good, so pure, so abundant, that he knew they would make it through every struggle. Together. Which is why Isak never imagined his current situation: Filing an application for separation. 

Carry on by hannakin (52k words) - For a moment Even just looked at him. Beautiful, amazing Even who was the best thing that had ever happened to Isak. There were tears in his eyes too. When he shook his head sadly, one tear made its way down his cheek. “I think I want to break up” He finally whispered. 

God Only Knows (What I'd Do Without You) by sundaymournin (52k words) - the break up that would never really happen, but imagine if it did. If Even moved to Trondheim for Uni and returned a little over two years later. Imagine what Isak would do, who he would be, and what could've happened but definitely never would've. 

Love is a battlefield by Minutebyminute (56k words) - Love conquers all. Love defeats all. Sometimes love pulls you apart. Sometimes for a period in time, sometimes forever. And sometimes love is a battlefield.

I Feel It When You Don't Look At Me by photographer_of_thoughts (66k words) - A sequel. “I never wanted to leave without you, Even.” Isak whispered. “I know. But you did. And I let you go.” 

The Boy Who Couldn't Hold His Breath Underwater by patrick_ (camille0078) (102k words) - Now, Even is ready to own up to his mistakes and asks Isak if he wants to get back together again. Isak has no doubt about getting back together, but everyone else believes that he's just asking for more trouble. 

All Stories Are Echoes by sebastianL (felix_atticus) (123k words) - A love story. Because that's the kind of story it has to be. This is an Even who's grown up, who's had hard years since the last time we saw him, and who's trying to get his life back together on his own. This is about potential--realized or not--memory, bravery, movies, accidents, and the nature of stories. (I love this fic so much!)  

WIP - I'm not sure if they all are getting back together

Dysecdysis (a tender history in skin) by unsungyellowraincoat (9k words) - last update Feb 2019. Isak and Even are ex-boyfriends, but S3 never happened, so this is completely au. Terje Valtersen is recovering from a hemorrhagic stroke and that plays a big role in this story. 

We, who quietly bleed by howmanyisaksandevens (31k words) - last update May 2018. They break up, they get back together, they live happily ever after or so I choose to believe. 

The One That Got Away by cami_soul (37k words) - last update Sept 2019. In this AU Even never reached out to Isak on December 9. Isak never left the Christmas concert to go find Even. Even rejected all of Isak’s attempts to reach out to him. Isak came to accept Sonja’s statement that Even never really loved him. It is ten years later and Isak has just moved back to Oslo to work at the University of Oslo’s, Department of Medical Genetics. 

I swear that I will wake up next to you by dantetrieswriting (7k words) - last update July 2018. They were on-and-off for three years. Now two years have passed and Isak is 20 and in need of something exciting. An ad ropes him into booking a seat for a month long bus trip to Greece. It's new. It's interesting. It's cheap. Could it get any better? Yes it could. The ad didn't include the slight 6 foot blonde inconvenience going by the name of Even Bech Næsheim. And the fact that the inconvenience would be no more than five centimeters away from him at all times. Thirty days and 6 feet of sex on legs. 

There's nowhere i'd rather be by JustALittleBitOfYou (4k words) - last update March 2019. It's been a year since Even Bech Næsheim and Isak Valtersen broke-up. Well, technically, it's been a year since Isak sent Even away without a real reason. As they both try to rebuild their life, the Bech Næsheim siblings decide to host a one-week party in Mia's and Even's new couple's honor. Isak attends the party, without knowing the identity of the hosts. 

isak in the bathroom by sundaymournin (14k words) - 4/5 chapters posted. break-up fic where isak hides in the bathroom quite a bit, even is dating mikael, and everything is a bit off-center.

The Good Side by sundaymournin (12k words) - last update July 2018. The only thing Isak had in life was Even and the promise they’d made to each other when they were ten and twelve. Isak and Even used to date, broke up, but are still roommates. 

[wolveswithhats]

writing wip game

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you or interests you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it! 

The titles weren’t interesting so I vainly just posted some excerpts from a grab bag of more recent stuff. If I did everything it’d honestly probably go on for pages. I have a lot of unfinished stuff (pretty much...exclusively unfinished stuff dfjkdjfkg). Like a decade’s worth.

Tagged by @ackbang​. TY TY, MY DUDE. If you see this and you’re a writer, consider yourself tagged. Like for real. Only not tagging because I can’t remember who writes fanfic and who doesn’t.

Looooooong post below.

ling ling the goblin king (ling + lan fan, fma)

"lan fan did it," the prince says, and for a moment she feels a flare of anger and betrayal over his deception. 'it wasn't me, i didn't do this. i didn't kill anyone.' but the prince is bending at the waist, low enough that that his tail of hair brushes the dirt, and she realizes his lie is for her benefit. "thank you, m'lady. i owe you my life."

her mouth feels dry, face hot from exertion and the burning gaze of her older peers. "d-don't do that," she stutters, and she's not sure if she's referring to the lie or the bow.

"you dare give me orders?" but there's no heat in his voice, eyes crinkling with humor as he rises to his full height. she has no idea how he can look so amused with a hole in his shoulder, covered in the blood of a man he just killed. he grins lopsided, teeth crooked and painted red. the sight is altogether ghoulish.

limb choppy choppy (lan fan + greed + ling, fma, part of the revival au)

And Greed is stilling his struggles, catching his wandering hand in his own, running comforting circles with his thumb over Ling's blood-smeared cheek. “Hey, you little pissant, this is nothing, piddly kids table shit. Remember that time that one Central soldier tried to gut us? Right down the middle, like splitting a sausage. Goddamn crimson tide. I thought we'd never get the blood out of that coat. Now that was an injury.”

“T-they took my arm.”

“Yeah, and who needs one of those anyway? Gonna get you all sorted, get you one of those shiny metal ones, like your girl Lan Fan here. Guess the adjustment period takes a bit, a year or three, but bet we could expedite the process with proper motivation. I'm thinking sandwiches.”

He laughs, or something approaching as much, a soggy intake of air. She's struck with an unexpected wave of jealousy, that it's Greed that's offering reassurance and intimate personal jokes. A former homunculus, a former demon, a watery imitation of a man. Creature comforts from the creature. It should be me, she thinks, though she has nothing to offer beyond promises of protection, and even those feel like falsehoods after all that has happened here. Comforting platitudes are beyond her. What could I ever say to make this better?

lets get lit fam (greedling + ed, fma)

wobbly-legged, too uncoordinated to walk. almost stumbles into a line of trash cans at the mouth of the alley, but ed hooks his elbow and steers him away. "what the hell were you thinking? we're supposed to be keeping a low profile."

it's not an accusation he's fully equipped to grapple, not when he's still so bleary from sleep—and some other pleasant, dizzying sensation he thinks might be inebriation. he's never woken up drunk before. he's never been drunk before period. "what'd i do?"

"not you, ling. you would have gone straight for the food menu, not the liquor list. i'm talking to the dipshit you share a mental occupancy with. greed, what the hell?"

"was just a few drinks," ling slurs, but it's not his words, or his voice, and wow he's never been so aware of his own tongue before.

solid citizen (ling + greed, fma)

"geez, kid, you're certainly in a mood." so he was reading his thoughts, just fantastic. he look he gives him is withering, but greed pats his shoulder, almost condescendingly, pitying for sure.

"you're plenty fine, kid. i'll give you the ears, but you're top shelf in the looks department otherwise. if you were ugly, i'd tell you straight up. i don't lie. this here," he points to his own face. "is ugly. nothing like my old human face."

it's a bated response, he knows, and he doesn't really feel like playing, but greed did make a passing effort to make him feel better. "human face?"

he beams, dreamily, which is an impressively soft expression to pull off a mouthful of razors, and ling is suddenly reminded of the mythology of the man fawning over his own reflection. surely greed can't be that vain? "yeah i was a real stunner. fucking gorgeous." or maybe he could, apparently, what did ling know anyway.

wreckage (vincent, re-l, ergo proxy)

When she makes it back to the Rabbit, chest burning and damp with exertion, Vincent has already stripped Pino of her overalls and laid her across the table. Cooling fluids draining, frayed wiring spooling out of her gashed torso, sprawled like a tiny metal Tityos. Her left arm is snapped off and dangling at the elbow, her eyes glassy – glass, literal glass – staring at the ceiling. Broken doll parts. Just another disassembled AutoReiv, but this isn't like that at all, because Pino isn't just another AutoReiv. She's like Iggy--

It's almost too much for Re-l to take. Hand over her mouth, breathing sharp through her fingers in short repetitions. Tries to steel herself, to be calm and assertive, because one of them has to be, and Vincent-- Vincent was awkward and mousy and sensitive, Vincent who spilled his cereal and tripped over his own feet and housed an ancient being of unspeakable power in his lanky boy-frame. But his god-strength was of no use here, drowned under the weak, simpering, overpowering grief for something that was no more human than he was.

do NOT worry about meryl (vash + wolfwood + milly, trigun)

milly caught the hurt. naive, for sure, but shrewd. "oh, we'd never think that of you, mr. vash. it's just our job as representatives of the bernadelli insurance society to mitigate any and all damages from the humanoid typhoon, even the rumored ones."

wolfwood: "bernadelli employing a little insurance of their own, eh?"

milly nods. "if we had to pay out claims on every false report of mr. vash's wrongdoings, we'd go belly up in no time!"

caught up on the word 'wrongdoing', growls, "you make it sound like i'm doing any of this on purpose."

"it's just sensible. your name has a lot of weight, vash."

grumbles: "yeah, i'm aware."

"and that's why meryl was so insistent on following up on this one, even knowing it wasn't really you. so many people drag your name through the mud, and it just doesn't seem fair at all."

his name had long since been dragged, strangled and shot, left to rot under a flock of buzzards circling its carcass in the heat. There was no saving it. still, the intent was kind, if not bewildering. "you...were trying to protect my reputation?"

milly looks at him like he's insane for thinking otherwise. "well, yeah. we've come to think of you as a friend, mr. vash, and that's what friends do.”

baby scrub (locke + rachel, ff6)

offers his hand and a single word: "lock."

her faces scrunches distastefully at his uncouth greeting, but she's not sure what else she was expecting from a dirty street boy. "lock?"

"with an e," he adds, as if that clarifies anything.

"that can't be real. you just made that up."

"all names are made up," huffs locke-with-an-e, looking impatient with her slow uptake on this odd world of his. "and i never said it was real, but it's all you're going to get."

spike bday (spike + dawn, btvs)

“if I show you something, you need to promise not to say anything. not to the watcher, or your sister. not to anyone, right?”

even through her tears, she nods, curious. spike's always good for skirting just outside the limits of good taste.

“I'm serious. spool your intestines out your nose, string 'em up like christmas garland. I mean it.”

“colorful threats of bodily dismemberment, I get it.”

hands her a faded yellow tintype. a young man, twenty-five or thirty maybe, a riot of disheveled curls, glasses, frumpy suit. not an unattractive man, but a timid one, uncertainty written into the slanted bow of his shoulders. he had the weedy air of someone who spent a lot of time duct taped to flag poles, or whatever the victorian equivalent would be. did it count as a twirly if you were dunked into a chamber pot?

a rebellious counterpoint in wrinkled tweed to the hard, starched lines of victorian decorum – interesting, but not very relevant. and a little disappointing, if she was being totally honest. spike's anecdotes usually had more flash and gore. “I don't get it.”

he's exasperated, fingers twitching like he's ready to snatch it away, and he tucks his hands under his arms in an awkward self hug. she takes in the hard set of his jaw and the...flush of his cheeks? god, she didn't even know vampires could blush. it had to take some serious breaking of undead physiology to ping that level of embarrassment, and something beyond that even to flap the unflappable spike. he hisses impatiently. “would you just—look at the face.”

and she does, tilting the little photo to and fro in the dim of the crypt. unassuming man-hermione with hair that cannot be tamed. sharp cheekbones and dark heavy brows under the rims of his glasses and suddenly she sees it—him—the angular planes of his face coming into sharp relief, like a camera finding its focus. “oh. oh my god! this is you. holy crap, spike. you look....”

“normal,” he finishes for her, and something in her stomach swoops and clenches, stones in a pond. “mundane.”

“i was going to say like a megawatt dorklord, but we can use your word instead.” she wipes her nose on the back of her hand. he snorts, amused and embarrassed.  

“i was a poet.”

she tried to envision anything beyond smutty limericks carved onto the wall of a bathroom stall.

“were you ever published?”

“i was a shitty poet,” he amends, grimacing.

boston au (spike + dawn, btvs)

bodily kicking a dumpster, sending it careening into the street with a rusty scream of metal. a hydrant follows suit, ripped from the sidewalk. caps off his tantrum with a boot to the side of Angel's GTX, but even the size-10 crater marring the passenger door of the angelmobile did little to ease his frustration.

“better?” dawn asks, when he drops bodily into the driver's seat with an aching sigh, anger dissipating. she looks so tiny and forlorn, knees drawn to her chest, picking at a cigarette burn in the upholstery. two years ago she'd have been a ripe treat, poor little lost lamb. now the idea twists his gut, her sorrow palpable, proprietary, under his skin and in his veins.

“no,” he grunts, staring out impassively at the aftermath of his outburst. water spurting from the sidewalk, skip spilling out into the road. half a dozen cars along the block chirping in a chorus of wailing alarms. and angel in the foyer, something vaguely resembling pity etched across his massive cavebrow. fucking wanker.

...

“we go back to sunnydale then. try again. badger the scoobies until they agree to help. we'll figure this out.”

“i don't want to.” quietly. barely a whisper.

“to figure it out?”

“to go back.”

“dawn...”

“there's nothing there. they're not going to help because i'm nothing. it's an ongoing memorial to my own non-existence. can we not go back? can we just keep driving?”

“where?”

“I don't care. away.”

thinks about leaving sunnydale. thinks about what he's leaving behind. shitty memories, regrets, lost love. he has a small collection of personal effects; records, first edition books, family heirlooms that cannot be replaced, a hundred years of mementos of his whirlwind romance with dru. wonders if he can ring up clem, ask him to send a care package once they get to wherever they're going. looks at dawn in her clearance-rack pajamas, realizes she has lost everything. she has no belongings, no family, no remnants left as evidence she even had a family. nothing but him and her, here, in this moment.

it's just stuff. it's surprisingly easy to let go.

he drives.

taco hell  (spike + dawn, btvs, part of the boston / unravel au)

Right where her window was supposed to be, a swirling doorway of light ringed in licking green flame, spilling out into....a fast food restaurant?

"I think it's Taco Bell," Dawn said, pinching a tissue to her--aw hell--bleeding finger. He took inventory of the spell books around her, the scrying bowl, and the ashy pentagram burnt into 70s shag weave of her bedroom carpet. So much for their security deposit.

"You opened a hell dimension to Taco Bell?"

She craned her head to squint at the pimply teenager manning the register, oblivious to his cross-dimension spectators. "I think it's just a regular Taco Bell. I don't see any dragons or shrimp people or anything."

"Not all alternate universes have shrimp people."

"I know that. You know, it actually looks like the one downtown, across from the KFC? On Kellner? Unless the Kellner Street Taco Bell is a Taco Hell. I've been reading up about liminal spaces, where the fabric between realities is weakened. Maybe it's a hot spot, and all the employees are actually like, octopus centaurs. How would we know? Not like I'm going to crawl over the counter to check, you know?"

"Well, now's your chance to ask Squiddly Diddly here what he's got going on downstairs." Slack-jawed employee finally cottoned on to the door to another universe in the restaurant lobby. Dawn awkwardly waves. Poc Ock waves back, bewildered, before the portal collapses in on itself in a burst of white light.

"It stopped bleeding." she holds up her finger.

-- 

(I don’t think anyone would, but as a precaution: please don’t reblog these to the Herald. They’re sloppy and incomplete and mixed in with a bunch of other fandoms so it’d just be really weird. THANK)