#ao3writing

[veritas-scribblings]

(y)earn

RATING: Explicit

WORDS: 7,713

SUMMARY: When Walburga and Orion Black are found dead at Grimmauld Place, Regulus Black deals with the fallout.

Or: The things Barty Crouch Jnr. does in the name of love. 

[inspired by: earn and broken | instead of doing work, I spent all day writing this | look, the plot is loose, I admit it | it originated as pure smut and grew...it just didn't grow well, haha]

‘What does that have to do with anything?’ Regulus asks quietly. ‘My parents may have been many things, but believe me when I say that they were thrilled at the prospect of having another son and heir. Particularly given how disappointing they found my brother.’

Orion Black had a saying: that looking down was a sign of weakness. As a child, Regulus had not understood it. Looking down, avoiding eye contact, had been his way of concealing deception. His way of keeping hidden, keeping secret, truths he did not wish his parents to know.

But now, Regulus understands the saying. Well. Because he cannot bring himself to make eye-contact with the Auror sitting opposite him, and he knows that it is because of weakness and he knows it is because of his hidden truth.

The Auror in question is one Frank Longbottom who looks, for all he likely tries not to, like a quintessential Gryffindor Quidditch player. There’s just something about him that’s conflictingly amiable and cocky, like he’s torn between being ‘too big for his boots’ while simultaneously reeking of ‘sincerity and trustworthy’. It is probably for these reasons, Regulus supposes, that Frank was chosen as the one to be placed in a room with Regulus Black.

Because Regulus, being a Black, would sense an ulterior motive from a league away. And Regulus, being a Black, might trust Frank for the purity of his blood.

‘My parents gave me everything I needed, did everything they needed to to make it happen,’ Regulus says, finally looking up to meet Frank’s gaze head-on, because this is a truth he does not need to conceal. ‘I’m sure you’ll find all of this on record if you petition the Registry of Magical Births, Deaths and Marriages and Saint Mungos for my records. I have nothing to hide.’

‘Then why did you run away?’ Frank asks.

[onwards to ao3]

[drowning-in-greed]

AO3 Tag Roulette Writing Challenge: October 2023

The below list was compiled using the AO3 Tag Roulette random generator and will provide you with five tags from Archive of Our Own (AO3). Your task is to write a story using all of them. Anything goes with Tag Roulette - from romantic to fantasy to just downright weird, you never know where the tags will take you.

Remember, you can do as much or as little with each tag as you like, and you're not limited to those tags alone. Get creative with it, and make the tags work for you. The goal of this challenge is to inspire you to write, so don't be afraid to take the tags in a direction that feels right for you.

[raindragon-20]

that trope where character A transforms into a terrifying, hideous creature and character B just looks at them all soft and goes, “you are so beautiful. you are cherished. you will never be unloved by me.” like okay yeah that’s my entire emotional support genre right there

[pannda155]

Alright alright, hear me out.

Jayvik x vita carnis

Viktor is a mimic that's eaten enough people to now look human. Jayce is very unobservant and assumes he just walks bad (due to the weird length limbs they get).

Jayce ends up dating a mimic without realizing it.

The mimic (Viktor) gets possessive over him, "that's my human, you can't eat him. "

One day a mimic is hiding in Jayce's apartment, Viktor is over with him. When the mimic comes out hours later to eat Jayce, Viktor kills it instead (in vita carnis it's a power dynamic thing. You have regular mimic, human looking mimic, then elder mimic, each one increasing in strength).

Jayce is like "woah, my boyfriend just killed a mimic" cause he's socially dumb as rocks

Jayce brings Viktor to meet his mother who immediately clocked on to how Viktor was a mimic. She's deathly afraid of him the whole time he's there, she doesn't sleep, she carries a knife around and Jayce has no idea why. He asks his mother if the news reported a mimic in the area with Viktor standing directly next to him.

(I'm gonna expand on this later, I want to finish my Cthulhu idea first)

[izelthewashbear]

*psst* Hey, you! You like some Shinyduo? Gempearl, even? Then you'll love my newest fic on ao3! It's called Roses on blood-drenched fields! First chapter came out today! Go check it out now!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66010033/chapters/170084296

[starsmacabray]

me in my authors end note after dropping the most heart wrenching, vomit inducing, miserable chapter i’ve ever written:

[caspira-writes-fanfiction]

GIT BEVVER SWOON :(

"Get out"

Moxie and Millie blink back at their boss. They were both concerned, but it was Millie who spoke up first.

"Are you sure you don't want-"

"It's been a very long day and Loonie needs to get home now." There was no smile on Blitz's face, and any pleasantries in his voice were worn thin. He couldn't be having whatever conversation Millie wanted to force on him right now.

"Right, it's just. The van..."

"Is mine" Blitz finished her sentence "And you have two god damn seconds to get out of it before you're both out of a job."

Moxxie slid off of Millie's lap and opened the car's front door. He jumped down to the sidewalk in front of their apartment and reached for Millie's hand. He motioned for her to join him. Millie frowned, but did as Blitz asked and got out of the car.

Blitz sped off as soon as her feet touched the ground.

Loona had fallen asleep as soon as she'd hit the floor of the van back in Sloth. Blitz considered leaving her there for the night, but couldn't bring himself to do it. She deserved her bed, even if might be a fight to get her there. The growl that Loona gave when Blitz told her it was time to get up was far less scary than the bits of feather and blue blood staining his seats.

Blitz hadn't known Stolas could get hurt.

He was tougher than his emotions, smarter too. With a deep breath and the familiar pinch of his claws digging into his palm, Blitz was able to swallow down his emotions and forget about them. Loona needed to get inside.

The doctor had said Loona may be out of it for a little while after receiving her shot and the fight they endured to get the hound her vaccine had been tiring. His daughter was all growl and no bite by the time they'd gotten back to Pride. She was hardly a fight as Blitz got her upstairs and tucked into bed (or well, dropped off at her door. Blitz wasn't allowed inside her room).

She might be the one thing he hadn't ruined.

The van needed to be cleaned. Blitz knew how to clean blood out of upholstery, he knew how to clean Stolas's blood from upholstery, it's not as if they hadn't had their fun before. Stolas hadn't been afraid of knives or pain. He fucking asked for the bear traps. Blitz had seen Stolas hurt many times, he'd always been fine.

Blitz hadn't known Stolas could get hurt.

Blitz stopped by the kitchen before starting his work on the van. He poured dish soap in a large bowl until it covered the bottom and filled it with hot water. He grabbed towels, additional cleaners, and a wire brush. He grabbed a bottle of liquor from the cabinet, there was no way he was doing this without a drink.

Starting was the first step. Blitz started on the bottle before he started on the van. He didn't know where to start with the van. Feathers, he supposed. He could pick up feathers.

There were too many feathers.

How many times had the feathers been annoying? A disturbance? They were something to disrupt a meeting when Blitz would accidentally cough one up. They were something that needed to be preened, which meant watching Stolas groom himself for hours sometimes after a rough night between the two of them. They were itchy, and ticklish, and annoying. But these feathers were damaged. These feathers were sad. There were so many of them.

Blitz didn't count how many feathers there were in total but there was enough to make a small bouquet of them. He wondered how many more were back at Striker's. Blitz cursed himself for forgetting a trash can. He couldn't abandon the small collection of feathers he'd collected. He put them on the front seat for now.

He needed a break. Blitz sat on the floor of the van with his feet dangling from the opening in the side. He pulled his phone out and took a drink. He looked through his photos: Loona's adoption Day, Lunch with M&M, him and Verosika, him and Fizz. He stops on the picture of him and Stolas. The Royal loved documenting their time together but he didn't know about this picture. He didn't know the way Blitz smiled while Feathers hooted quietly in his ear as he slept. Stolas didn't know that Blitz took pictures of them while Stolas was sleeping, when Blitz was allowed to be his most vulnerable.

Blitz focused on a blood stain in his peripheral. He looked back at the photo. The two images couldn't be any more different.

He hadn't known Stolas could get hurt.

Blitz brought to the bottle to his lips and tipped it back once more. He rolled up his sleeves and got back to work.

Working was easier than thinking. It was easier than feeling. It accomplished something, more than feeling ever did. Blitz scrubbed until his arms hurt, until his chest heaved from exertion and he couldn't feel anymore because everything hurt, so nothing hurt. Her only managed two of the stains. He hadn't yet touched the worst of them.

If Stolas dies he might have to sell the van. He couldn't even begin to think about that.

"Stolas is fine. He's a prince, he's....powerful. He'll be fine." There was nobody around for Blitz convince other than himself, and even then he didn't feel that convinced of his words.

His answer is weren't at the bottom of that bottle. The world was swaying peacefully. Blitz had tipped over tipsy but was still able to feel his face and several bruised ribs from earlier today. He abandoned the van and walked off.

It wasn't hard to find a distraction in Pride. Wether it be drugs or sex or some other vice, Blitz was sure to find something that would help him numb. He was too far from the Royal circle to walk, but if he could have that's where Blitz would have ended up. Instead he ended up at a bar.

Blitz lasted two drinks before getting kicked out, but managed to swipe a bottle of something off the bottom shelf on the way. He could feel a throbbing in his jaw from where he'd been punched, but the rest of his face was sufficiently numb. He swayed along the sidewalk as he returned home. He had almost forgotten why he'd even gotten drunk in the first place.

The bloodstains were still in the carpet of the van. The seat might as well just be dyed to match at this point. No, die it black. This shade of dark blue is sickening.

No it's not, blood is cool!

Blitz thinks today he might side with Fizzarolli. There is nothing cool about the attempted murder scene in the back of his van. Blitz isn't excited at the sight of this, he's horrified. It takes a lot to gross Blitz out. He sits on the sidewalk for a while to catch his breath.

Soap and water and elbow grease hadn't been enough to get the stains out. He tries something more stringent. Bleach may eat away at the fabric if he doesn't stop scrubbing, but at least the blood will be gone.

I think you should come and save me!

Blitz hadn't known Stolas could get hurt. Stolas hadn't even sounded scared on the phone. Had he been scared later?

"No, fucking stop it!" Blitz slapped himself with his own tail. Worrying wasn't going to do anything. He didn't want to feel right now.

This wasn't his fault. Blitz couldn't be to blame. He didn't know how much danger the prince was in, it wasn't his job to protect Stolas, he had a duty to his daughter. It was all just.....really bad. It wasn't his fault.

Then why did Blitz feel so fucking guilty?

He found half a pack of cigarettes under the passenger seat and took another break. The burn of the smoke was nice. The immediate little rush that came to his head after the first smoke was nice. The stars were nice.

No, the stars were Stolas.

Blitz looked up at the sky. There weren't many stars that could be seen from the streets of Imp City. With the lights and Blitz's unsteadiness they all sort of blurred together. The stars were falling, Stolas was hurt. He hadn't known Stolas could get hurt.

"Fuck, Birdie." There was no coo in reply, no gentle hoot, no amusing quip that went halfway over Blitz's head half the time. Blitz turned his head and remembered just how alone he was.....On the edge of his van, talking to a bird shaped blood stain, doing everything in his power to just forget. If he could erase Stolas from his memory, he could save himself from the pain of losing him.

Blitz touched the skull on his choker, his only living memory of his mother. Tears sprang to his eyes.

For a moment Blitz considered lighting the van on fire. All he would have to do was drop his cigarette in the right spot. He could even stay right where he was, he could blow up with it. That would save everyone so much pain. It wasn't his fault Stolas got hurt, but Blitz knew deep down it was.

Blitz only entertained the thought for a moment. Loona was inside, sleeping and unaware of what had happened today. He couldn't have her wake up to that. He knew she would be fine on her own, but Blitz didn't need to die today. Not everyone had left him just yet.

Blitz finished the last of his drink and thew the bottle outside hard enough to shatter it. He took off his coat and wadded it up until it was vaguely something he could hold onto. He curled on the backseat next to the larger blood stain. He tried not to think about it. Blitz looked at his phone one more time, at the photo Stolas was never supposed to know about, but now may never get the chance to. Blitz had done everything in his power not to feel but he couldn't help it.

Stolas might die and it was all his fault.

Blitz started to type out a message to Stolas. He wanted to wish him better, to tell him he was sorry he was hurt. He considered apologizing for not being there. He fell asleep before he could do much more than type out one message, let alone send it. It was his best attempt at telling Stolas how he felt.

GIT BEVVER SWOON :(

[spookiestz]

me when i think of a cool, new idea for a fanfic and get around to actually posting it but then it only gets 37 hits after a day

[everything-is-as-it-was]

Can I just say how absolutely grateful I am that fanfiction just... exists? Here in ao3 we have a literal fountain of literary works, some good, some not so good, some serious, some written in fifteen minutes and posted, all done for the love of the art and for the love of creating. Because all creating has worth, whether it's taken seriously, or it's silly, or it's just practice, or someone's put their entire heart and soul into it.

In the beginning of 2024, before I began my fic a semester abroad, I was completely in a writing rut. I'd finished the first draft of a novel over a year before and hadn't felt up to tackling the issue of rewriting it yet, so when I had a little idea of forcing a university student to live in the phouse I was like shit, why not. And I kid you not, it's changed my life.

I have fanfiction to thank for teaching me to love writing again. I have fanfiction to thank for finally choosing what I want to study, and instead of going into web development (lord) deciding instead to go with what's always been my passion. I have fanfiction to thank for connecting me with other fantastic writers who are also doing it simply for the love of the craft.

Through fanfiction I've been able to improve my own writing skills, improve my collaboration skills (thanks @nobodynobodyno) and also improve my editing skills (thanks @llama-sidekick and also thanks for reading my sub-par german lmao).

So yeah, I'm absolutely putting "has written over 200k words recreationally in 2024" on my university statement because without those 200k words I wouldn't be applying at all.

[smootnytechnik]

I started writing chapter 15 of Canary's thrill, the first to kill

And I was actually really enjoying how it was going!

...until I suddenly closed the program

And for some reason it didn't autosave

So uh yeaaaah half an hour of work down the drain

[liesineyes]

When you are trying to be a responsible writer and actually finish your WIP, that's this close to completion but then a new idea hits - which, okay. It is only a 3-4k one shot, no big deal, it can even be a nice distraction.

Except now, you are 3k words deep, it's only the first rough draft and somehow there are two other shots supporting this one.

Most of the time, I love writing. The other times? I want to bang my head against the wall because what do you mean this is happening to me?

[veritas-scribblings]

Sacrosanct

RATING: Mature

WORDS: 6,324

STATUS: One-shot, Complete

SUMMARY: Barty Crouch Junior is eleven when he first meets Regulus Black. He’s twelve when he launches a campaign of terror against a fellow classmate in the name of his found family. He’s fifteen when he confuses love for Regulus with sex with Regulus and ends up all tied in metaphorical knots. He’s eighteen when he joins the Death Eaters and falls in love with Evan Rosier. He’s nineteen when his world starts falling apart and he’s twenty when his world stops altogether.

Or, the story of Barty, Evan and Regulus’s co-dependency seen through Barty’s eyes.

~*~

Barty Crouch Junior is eleven when he speaks to Regulus for the first time. They don’t meet on the train on the way to Hogwarts, because Regulus is already surrounded by people. They don’t even meet at the Sorting. They avoid each other in their dormitory. They’re in different social circles (not that Barty has one). It is in potions class, when they’re paired together to brew a hair-raising potion, that they speak for the first time. 

Regulus is quiet. Clever. Studious to the point of hilarity. Dry-witted and acerbic. Barty just loves Regulus’s wicked, acid tongue and immediately decides that they’re going to be friends. 

He leads with this, ‘You’re my best friend now,’ and receives nothing more than the blankest of stares, like the boy before him simply cannot fathom the words that are coming out of his mouth.

[onwards to ao3]

[drowning-in-greed]

The AO3 Tag Roulette Writing Challenge: November 2023

The below list was compiled using the AO3 Tag Roulette random generator and will provide you with five tags from Archive of Our Own (AO3). Your task is to write a story using all of them. Anything goes with Tag Roulette - from romantic to fantasy to just downright weird, you never know where the tags will take you.

Remember, you can do as much or as little with each tag as you like, and you're not limited to those tags alone. Get creative with it, and make the tags work for you. The goal of this challenge is to inspire you to write, so don't be afraid to take the tags in a direction that feels right for you.

[therightatriumoftheheart]

WOW happy 50k words of self-indulgent slop! Ch. 15 is a little calm before another storm :3c

[pannda155]

Y'all I just saw this on reddit, look at the design for earlier concepts of the machines--- they fit my vita carnis idea BEAUTIFULLY EHEHEHEHE LOL

Left in the user cause I'm pretty sure it's their photos

[izelthewashbear]

Huzzah, my @inthelittlezine fic! My take on Limited Life: Ten seconds to midnight!

I really enjoyed writing this one, it was definitely an experience! Thanks to the mods of the zine for having me, and happy birthday to @inthelittlewood !

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64288966