#come hell or high water they will write

[comehellorhighwatertheywillwrite]

Na Cruinne Atá Ag Méadú

Averill_Ryker_84888

They give us a whole season of soap drama in one paragraph then apologise for making their readers wait 💀

[lemonyuzukii]

what if demigods actually are real but theyre all just ao3 authors

i have cracked the code

[ya-rr-ow]

the dedication of an ao3 author

[cypherwritesthings]

I am in fact a writer, I do not in fact write. Yes we do exist.

[thecommunalfoolboy]

I genuinely think fic writers could be stabbed and bleeding out on the bathroom floor and with a pale shaking hand they’d press publish on their laptop

[yellobb]

I’m on chapter 24 out of 30 of a 108k word fic and the author’s note said “happy one month anniversary of me starting to write this” 😀 Bro what superpower do you have and how can I get it????

[wr1t3w1tm3]

I found a few more for ya.

Of course, these are all mine.

[howifeltabouthim]

Of course I shall go. I should have broken my heart if I could not have got there.

Anthony Trollope, from Phineas Finn

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Happy (Belated) Birthday Viola Di Angelo! (May 3rd)

I have found so much beauty in the dark, as I have found a lot of horror in the light

Tag List: want to be added?

[unhingedicedlatte]

Really sticking to my first ever fanfic written be my, myself & I atm! I try to update about weekly as everything else is plain unrealistic for me currently; but it feels so good to be back into writing and to create this story for two of my fav fictional characters!

[comehellorhighwatertheywillwrite]

the day my dad got his protection order served to him and he locked me out of the house i updated my fic inside of a tree trunk on a Nintendo switch screen until the police found him again and forced him to unlock the door in which i had finished the next chapter

[shallowseeker]

Truth & despair *COMPLETE*

"The truth will set you free, but first it will make you miserable."

Synopsis:

With Cas gone, Jack vanished, and Dean in turmoil, Sam turns to therapy to cope. His search for answers leads him to the bunker’s surveillance footage, where he uncovers startling evidence that casts doubt on Dean’s account of Cas’s death... and Dean's sanity. Determined to restore a semblance of normalcy, Sam gets them back on the road. But their case takes a terrifying turn when Chuck appears with a chilling revelation: the universe is targeting them in a deadly Final Destination-style game of fate. As Sam grapples with his own fears and a world seemingly set against them, he clings to the hope that reuniting his fractured family will be the key to overcoming their darkest challenges. Maybe once they’re all back together, they won’t need therapy at all.

---

Focus: Supernatural post-15x19 fic, TFW grieving badly, Bad therapy attempts with Mia Vallens, False memories, The Shadow is in love with Cas, Jack and Amara are AWOL

Characters: Dean/Castiel, Dean & Sam, Sam & Dean & Cas & Jack, Eileen Leahy, Mia Vallens, Chuck Shurley, Becky & the Rosen-Baron fam, Donatello Redfield, The Empty, Amara, Jack as God, Rowena MacLeod, Sam POV and Sam is blessedly annoying

Content warning: Major character death (Castiel), poor coping mechanisms (Dean), and encroachment of personal boundaries (Sam). Eventual happy ending.

Updates every weekend!

Proofread by @minalblood & finished for @tenderthunder

❤️

///

Ch 01: (~4200 words, ~17 minutes) - In an attempt to tackle his grief, Sam rifles through the bunker footage to track down Cas’s last moments. The footage leaves him with more questions than answers.

//

Ch 02: (~5700 words, ~23 minutes) Mia admonishes Sam for his breach of boundaries, and Dean suffers his first meltdown.

//

Ch 03: (~5200 words, ~20 minutes) Sam leans into unhealthy coping mechanisms that nearly get them killed.

//

Ch 04: (~4700 words, ~18 minutes) Snapped out of Chuck’s grand finale, Sam and Dean wonder what’s next.

//

Ch 05: (~5250 words, ~21 minutes) In need of Becky Rosen’s laptop, Chuck and the Winchesters track her to a safe house in the recesses of the Wallowa Mountains, Oregon. En route, the roadways are riddled with mysterious sinkholes. Dean admits he’s drawn to them.

//

Ch 06: (~7500 words, ~30 minutes) - Chuck shows his true colors, but Dean’s the real problem.

//

Ch 07: (~7200 words, ~28 minutes) - Dean takes a leap of faith. Sam follows.

//

Ch 08: (~7100 words, ~28 minutes) - Sam and Dean tunnel their way into The Empty. It's not empty.

//

Ch 09 (~ 6200 words, ~25 minutes) - Unable to rid Castiel of the cooling Empty gunk, Sam and Dean transport him back to the Barons’ house and attempt to free him.

//

Ch 10 (~ 6200 words, ~25 minutes) - Hoping to track Jack and Amara, Team Free Will returns to Washaway Beach to perform a potent locator spell.

///

Ch 11 (~8000 words, ~32 minutes) - Sam and Chuck crash-land in a lush landscape and run afoul of Amara. She taunts Sam, promising that Jack will never return, at least not of his own free will.

//

Ch 12 (~10800 words, ~43 minutes) - Jack's got everything he needs right here. Why would he ever leave?

//

Ch 13 (~8000 words, ~32 minutes) - Sam awakens in the shallow waters of Washaway Beach...alongside the prone body of Jack Kline.

//

Ch 14 (~10200 words, ~40 minutes) - Maybe Sam can't fix everything. Maybe that's okay.

//

Ch 15/ Epilogue (~17000 words, ~68 minutes) - Then, Dean welcomed Cas back from The Empty. Now, they deal with the fallout.

[rozie-gray]

Ayo wtf?!

so much happened wth😭

[funky-fox-fics]

Prompt: timer

"I want you guys to kill me," Skizz says, bowing his head like a sacrifice on a bloodstained altar.

Tango and Impulse are staring at him. He thinks about them both; Tango's undaunted cleverness is gone now, his hands only twitching for want of a sword to cling to, and Impulse is staring at him--opening his mouth, closing his mouth, opening it again like a fish drowning in the dry air.

Skizz's own Red rancor and rage have settled into a grim sort of determination, and he very carefully flicks his gaze down to the floor. It's marked by explosions, burns, scratches in the stone. Its back is pressed against the border, which crackles and hums like a roaring fire.

Somewhere, a cannonball announces another death, and the sound shatters the heavy air. For a moment all is silent, save for the 26 minutes ticking down on his watch with a heavy sort of finality.

Tango is holding his bow. He's looking at it like it's an alien invention, or maybe like it's going to explode in his hands. "We're not doing that," he says, slowly, as though it's obvious. "You're a part of TIES. We don't--we don't kill our bros, Skizz."

"I want you to kill me," Skizz repeats. "I don't want--I don't want my time going to anybody else. If it's going to be anyone, it's gotta be you guys."

"What is wrong with you," Tango says, and his voice is trembling.

"No, we're gonna get you some more time," Impulse says. "We'll get you some kills, you're gonna--you'll--"

"Impulse, if I could've killed someone else--I mean, I just died twice trying to get some more time, odds are kinda stacked against me." He laughs again. Impulse isn't smiling. "Really. I mean, if it's going to anyone, it's going to you."

"I can't," says Impulse quietly.

"TIES--you guys--Dippledop, this is my final order, buddy," Skizz says firmly. His neck is bared. "I want you guys to kill me. You guys need the time. I don't."

Everything is very quiet. The cannonball sounds again, sharp and bleak, shattering the silence as easily as a scream. This was how it was always going to turn out, wasn't it? Skizz was never going to win. He was always going to die in some way. At least he has some say in this death. At least he can give as good as he's got.

Tango has put away the bow, or at least switched it out for some steak. He is staring at Skizz. Skizz is not staring back.

"We have to wait for Etho to get here," Impulse says--hopefully, desperately. There's no going back. "All of TIES. And besides. He needs it more than any of us do."

For a moment they sit in silence, searching the SkyNet for any traces of Etho. Impulse is not looking. Impulse is still staring at Skizz.

"How much time have you got left?" Tango asks quietly.

The minutes tick down. Skizz knows it in his heart, but he still checks anyway. "23 minutes."

Tango makes a sort of keening sound in the back of his throat, and then he says, "So it really is over."

"TIES has to get to final three," Skizz reiterates, eyes fixed on the shape that might be Etho and might not be Etho in the distance. "Please, you guys. One of us has to--well, I mean, I hope one of us wins, but at least final three. There he is." He flicks his hand out to gesture to Etho, who's crouched behind a cobblestone pillar.

"I'll try to make it," Impulse says. He pauses for a moment. He opens his mouth. He closes his mouth.

They manage to get Etho's attention, and as soon as he's there, Skizz presses his bucket of pufferfish and then his diamond axe into his hands.

(He thinks about a Red King. He thinks about a diamond axe. He thinks about other Lives, and other lives, and he thinks about this--his final death. For Etho.)

"I want you to kill me with this," Skizz says, and he tries to bare his throat so that it doesn't hurt much, cleaving through the skin. "Get you some more time. My final order."

Etho smiles, a crease in the mask, a crinkle at the corners of his eyes. He takes the axe with no hesitation. Tango makes that same keening sound, eyes pulsing with red glow. Impulse is staring at him quietly. His hands might be shaking.

Etho raises the axe, and Skizz bares his back, turns around so he has a good swing. 21 minutes and 55 seconds. Cannonballs cleave the air, and the server is shaking, and the rest of them are shaking too. It's cold, here so high above the server. This is how it ends.

"I love you Skizz," he says, and his voice is full of laughter. Skizz likes that about him. He really does. "I just wish you were better at surviving."

The axe comes down, lightning splits the sky in two, and Skizz finally runs out of time.

[wr1t3w1tm3]

I present to you a collection of my most unhinged Authors Notes from AO3.

[howifeltabouthim]

When ladies have made up their minds to dance they will dance let the circumstances of the moment be ever so antagonistic to that exercise.

Anthony Trollope, from Can You Forgive Her?