#dear fic scene i stopped writing halfway through to make this post:

[ohyoufool]

Writing Patterns

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern!

Tagged by: @doggernaut and @montrealmadison my besties!!! I am so touched!!!!! and aren't we lucky that I just hit 10 posted fics?? And because I can't stop yapping, I put a little note about each of them.

austin (check, please!, bitty/jack)

"Jack comes to Georgia like a summer thunderstorm."

(this one is alternately titled 'I went through a lot of breakups last year and got into country line dancing and it shows')

call of the champions (check, please!, lardo/camilla)

"It’s Lardo and her board."

(THE FUCKING FIC. I AM SO PROUD OF HER. and also I bought a sick salt late city 2002 olympics leather jacket because of it and it's basically my whole personality)

creation myth (check, please!, bitty/jack)

"It goes like this."

(this is me and @montrealmadison's magnum opus, and I learned how to bind books just to immortalize it)

sloshed with gold (check, please!, bitty/jack)

"Jack’s phone starts ringing halfway through his Tuesday morning jog."

(if you like nhl!bitty and photographer!jack, she's your jam. not sure if I will ever like the way I wrote this one but eyyyyyy it exists)

rocket man (voltron, keith/lance)

"The fireflies were flickering above Keith’s dark hair to light the path. He stood on the porch as Lance looked out from the doorway. There was a moment of silence. “You will help me keep him here this time, won’t you?” he asked."

(I won't apologize for voltron. I am too far past the shame. i wrote a paper on voltron queerbaiting and it got me into college. I owe her everything.)

season of the witch (check, please!, bitty/jack)

"Sometimes, Bitty gets carried away with baking."

(um fun fact there's apparently been a typo in the first line of this one for the last THREE YEARS ?????? its fixed now but dear god. I would delete this if it didn't have the second most hits of any check please fic i've written. I cant reread it it makes me want to die.)

don't waste another mile or minute (not kissing me) (voltron, keith/lance)

"Light. An unusual amount of light. Keith throws his elbow over his face as he peels his eyes open, wincing as the sun blasts through an open window."

(an OLD banger that I wrote at my first internship because it was so boring. some clever lines but my writing has improved tenfold since 2018)

and all I can taste is this moment (voltron, adam/shiro)

"There is absolutely nothing like flying, Takashi Shirogane, sixteen, almost-professional pilot, assumes. He assumes because he hasn’t been allowed to fly (yet), but if the simulator gives him any idea of what flight is like, Shiro is going to be hungry for it for the rest of his life."

(my magnum opus before creation myth, and the longest thing I've ever written (48k). yall ever yolo on a rarepair and write a biblically accurate cold war fic? no? just me? ok.)

last sunrise in the wasteland (voltron, keith/lance)

"The first time that Keith kisses Lance, the sky is the color of cotton candy. "

(this is my fic with the most hits which is great except there's a softcore porn scene in it I forgot about and subsequently subjected my grandpa to when he was reading it and making edits for me. so now it makes me want to die a little thinking about that. no he never brought it up.)

In my veins (carry on, baz/simon)

"On the worst day, Baz wakes up in Simon’s arms, the cursed tattoo glaring at him in the morning sunshine. Simon is still passed out, body curled into Baz, chestnut curls bouncing with each heady breath. The mark bitten onto his neck from the night before flashing like a highway sign on his neck."

(once someone bookmarked this with the tag 'out of character' and it has haunted me every single fucking day since I read that. WHY DID THEY BOOKMARK IT IF THEY DIDN'T LIKE IT. sorry it drives me crazy. I DONT UNDERSTAND.)

Tagging (no pressure, and anyone else can also jump in!): @justlookfrightened @bittysthesis @chaoskiro @zimbits-my-love @parseisflat @a-very-gay-disaster @dessertwaffles

[nimuetheseawitch]

2, 3, 14, 15, 29

2. Do you read/reread your own fics?

Yes. All the time. I pretty much write entirely for me (and am pleasantly surprised when other people like it too).

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Gosh, this is really hard. They're all my babies. If I really have to pick one, I guess it would be Sitting here tonight because I'm a sucker for pining and love letters and this series is really dear to me, even if I'm super blocked on it right now and cannot manage to work on the next installment.

14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?

I don't think most of them have anywhere near enough plot to make much of a film, but I think Autopilot would make a really cute comic.

15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters?

I almost always go looking for lyrics that work. I don't usually bother naming chapters unless I'm really trying to use lyrics throughout. Sometimes though, I try for something pithy. If I can't find a good song or a pithy title that works, I usually just go for something basically descriptive.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

Oh man, I dug into the archives for this one. This is a WIP that hasn't seen the light of day in ages, and that I'm never planning on finishing. I think I already started using it for spare parts because apparently this is from chapter 6, and I have absolutely no clue what was supposed to come before this. I also have no idea what I had planned as an actual plot. But this was supposed to be a MASH post-war reunion fic. I'll put it under the cut since this post is getting long.

Hawkeye slowly opens the door and calls out "Beej?"

The room is dark, but the light is on in the bathroom, and there's the damp scent of a recent shower and hotel soap. After looking around the room to make sure, Hawkeye gently knocks on the door. "Hey Beej, it's me and Father Mulcahy, can we come in?"

"I'm not really dressed for church." Hawkeye cringes, that wasn't even close to funny. But he gently pushes open the door and finds BJ sitting on the floor in his shorts and undershirt holding a razor and wearing half a mustache. He tries really, really hard not to laugh, but after letting in Father Mulcahy and seeing the look on his face, he just can't.

In no time, he's holding onto the edge of the sink in a futile attempt to keep himself upright because he's laughing so hard. He just keeps pointing and then miming a mustache on his own face while Mulcahy looks completely at a loss and BJ turns bright pink. It looks like he's trapped somewhere between joining in or punching something.

Mulcahy takes the plunge and asks, "What happened?"

"I thought I should get rid of it, but then I got halfway through and I couldn't recognize myself without it."

"I'm not sure half a mustache is going to do you much good."

Hawkeye realizes he's being left out of the conversation and stops laughing enough to open his eyes, free up his hands and contribute, "Remember that time when I did that to you in your sleep? I think it's perfect. You should keep it!"

Father Mulcahy adds, "Well, it is quite a showstopper."

At that, BJ gives in and starts laughing too. Then he catches a look at himself in the mirror and laughs again and again until he's crying too. Then he pulls Hawkeye and Father Mulcahy into an awkward hug as the laughter turns a little bit more into tears. He holds onto them loosely and somehow manages to get them all through the door and finally lets go in order to pull on his pants.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

oh hey, my angst hat! *puts it on* *maniacal villain laughter ensues*

Got a quick and extremely angsty Viren & Runaan/Ethari theory for you today, because I've started writing for Whumptober (my villain origin story or my redemption arc, you decide). Pulling together "Runaan has an unfinished redemption arc and he can't just waltz into it, he has lore" and "Viren gonna Viren" and "Ethari please be a clever badass" and then drowning them all in an angst vat.

This one is genuinely angsty af, not joking, proceed at your own risk.

tw: body horror, death, undeath, psychological trauma

Ready?

Hold onto your butts.

Back in S1, Viren kept the Moonshadow assassins' weapons after they died on their mission, and he found use for them later. He keeps and collects things in case they prove useful to him at a later date, but what he collects is usually meant to be spent, like magic components for spells, so he's never attached to these things past the purpose they may serve. Those assassin weapons showed up one more time, and Viren sent them on their way, content that he'd found one last use for them.

So yeah, he's definitely got Runaan's bowblade. He's got it on purpose. And this next bit could go two ways:

1) he uses Runaan's broken horn, or

2) (my favorite) he uses the ashy remains of Runaan's magically spent body to power his own coining. All dark magic needs a spell component from a living/once-living creature, and there was nothing else magical in that cell aside from Runaan himself. When Viren cast the smoky spell with the other assassins, he used their cremains as his source of magic. There needs to be something in Viren's spell that matches those cremains.

Either way, Viren resurrects the smoky ghost of Xadia's best assassin.

And then he hands Runaan's smoky self his bowblade and quiver and gives him a mission, smugly confident in the assassin's skill set.

Ohoho, where are you going? I'm not even close to done yet.

Runaan's target could easily be someone who will recognize that bowblade on sight. Might Viren sic Smoke Runaan on Rayla, for various upstart teenager hero things and also for killing him? Yes, he would absolutely do that.

But what if he sends his smoky minion after a new threat? What if Ethari has entered the larger arena as a player on the big board, and he has to defend himself against his own creation as well as the ashy and bespelled remains of the beloved elf he gifted it to?

Mhmm. Here we go.

Ethari is the one person who stands the best chance at defeating Runaan's shade, I think. He doesn't have assassin skills, but those shadows can't do much damage without a weapon in their hands. And that weapon is one that Ethari knows intimately. He can't fight off Runaan's attacks, but he could probably disable the bowblade itself, perhaps by disenchanting it, breaking its magic bowstring, something like that. If he can render that precious gift unusable, he'll be safe.

Except from his feels.

None of us felt good watching Runaan shoot arrows at his daughter from the castle roof. Imagine if we have to watch him shooting arrows at his husband, too. Imagine if one of them hits him before he can disenchant the bowblade. Ethari's in love, and he's very soft, it's true. But it's also true that the work of his hands has enabled the deaths of many humans. No amount of soft smooches and tears can erase Ethari's participation in the angsty choices of this show. Sorry, Ethari.

Extra cruel angst version: Viren knows who Ethari is to Runaan now, and he leaves a little bit of instruction in Runaan's smoky spell, should he actually fail, so that Viren can count either option as a win of some kind.

If Ethari manages to destroy the gift he lovingly made for his husband, thus saving his own life at the cost of Runaan's most treasured possession, Smoke Runaan could stop and stare at him as if in recognition long enough for Ethari to draw closer, desperate for any vision of his lost husband. And then Runaan could explode in ashy bits all over him. Actual ashy bits of actual Runaan (whether horn or whole), blowing all over Ethari, right in his face. Wearing his husband's ashes in his hair, having to taste his last mortal fragments, and knowing that he himself is partly responsible for these horrors, because he placed that weapon in Runaan's hands himself.

Can you imagine. I can, and it's horrible. Poor Ethari.

Viren would love it. Psychological warfare ftw.

*hands you a baby wipe and an adoraburr therapy session*

Okay, so.

Ethari gets overpunished for crafting a world-class weapon of war. Runaan gets overpunished again for being the guy who agrees to do the stabbing, whatever his motives are. Viren gets overpunished by losing another fragment of his dying empathy to dark magic, leaving him unable to truly understand love in any form anymore - not his enemies', not his kids', no one's.

Ahh. Balanced. As all things should be.

*takes off angst hat* Okay, I can only wear that thing for so long. It gets itchy.

Final thoughts from outside the angst bubble:

could Viren create a smoky version of Runaan if his soul still lives somewhere, or does the soul need to be dead dead?

is there some way that distinction could be used as some creepy sort of test for Harrow? Or Runaan/Lain/Tiadrin?

would Runaan's missing horn be enough to power that smoky spell? And is there a difference between using a pinch of cremains when the whole body has been destroyed and a pinch of horn when, say, the body remains intact somewhere? Would Viren just summon a floating half-a-horn and get really mad and tell it that it was supposed to be something special, something important?

what if it's not Viren who casts it, but Claudia? She knows how. If she knows where Viren stashed Runaan's bowblade (which probably yes, because she knows where Viren's primal stone was), this could be a big step for her as far as what her skills are and where her limits aren't. And passing the Villain Hat to Claudia has so much angsty potential! What if Viren wouldn't actually send Smoke Runaan after Ethari... but Claudia, never having been married/in love, doesn't see a limit there, and Viren does? (especially since he seems to have been resurrected without the gray taint of dark magic, like he's his original self again, and even as his current villainous self he still had a soft spot in his heart for Lissa in Book Two: Sky) Woah.

Thank you for coming to my Angst Talk. I hope you're all okay. Feel free to yell at this post if it helps. I did.

[sassy-ahsoka-tano]

Hi! Could I request a fic where reader is an actress in a play/movie that's kinda like a star vehicle for Elvis but she's starring opposite him. I remember reading that he wanted to do serious stuff, like not just singing and dancing. And also, could reader be very innocent and nervous about doing scenes and stuff with such a famous guy like E.P.? Maybe there's a kissing or a love scene and she gets nervous to do it for real? Could be fluffy or smutty, whichever way works best! <3

Dreams

tw: none! [ fem!reader ] || word count: 1827 || rating: pg

A/N: after the absolute sin i posted last night i hope y'all enjoy this softness lolol 🥰 this is such a cute idea!!! i loved writing it 💕

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

“Does my hair look alright, Doris?” you ask, glancing over at your stylist with worried eyes.

You’re standing in front of the mirror in your trailer, preparing to film your very first scene on the set of a new movie. While you’re already nervous after critics have expressed a lot of excitement for the movie, some predicting it to be the best film of the year, you’re even more nervous to meet your co-star. When your agent explained to you that you’d be starring opposite Elvis Presley, the famous musician and actor, your heart had stopped.

“Yes, of course, it does, Y/N. You look wonderful,” Doris responds with a smile as she brings your coat over.

You sigh as you slide your arms back into it. You know you shouldn’t be worried or nervous. You’re clearly just as talented and capable of an actor as Elvis since you’re co-starring in the same movie. And you happen to be one of the hottest names in Hollywood in general, with hundreds of fans throwing themselves at you on the daily. Glancing at yourself in costume in the mirror, you heave a deep breath and smile at Doris through the reflection.

“Don’t worry, dear,” she says, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “You’ll be perfect. You always are.”

You lean affectionately against her arm and thank her. She opens the door for you and you make your way across the street toward the studio. The security guards open the door for you and you enter, silently repeating your lines to yourself in your head. You approach the director, Paul, and paste on your most charming smile. As you come closer, you realize that Paul is already discussing the scene with someone, although you can’t tell who since their back is turned to you.

“Y/N, darling! We’re just discussing the scene,” Paul says when his eyes lock onto you.

He gestures for you to come forward so you step up to the conversation and your breath catches in your throat when the mystery man turns around. Of course, it’s none other than Elvis standing before you. He offers you a charming smile which you return happily.

"Y/N, this is-"

"Elvis Presley," you interrupt Paul. "It's truly an honor to meet you Mr. Presley. I'm quite a fan."

"I'm a pretty big fan of yours, too, Miss Y/L/N."

He thrusts his hand forward and you take it and give it a firm shake. Paul continues talking, gesturing toward the set behind you. It's a scene halfway through the movie which takes place by a romantic Italian fountain in Milan. It also so happens to be the first kiss scene that occurs in the film. As you step up onto the set, you gulp and try not to shake as you reach up to take Elvis' outstretched hand. You feel heat creeping into your face as Elvis smiles and helps you up the steps.

"I think if we have you begin over here, Y/N, it will be more natural for you to look Roger in the eyes, yes?"

"Like this?" you ask.

You stand to follow Paul's direction toward the fountain and turn with your knees resting elegantly against the side of the marble structure. You stare off into the distance where Elvis' character, Roger, is marked to stand.

"Yes, that's delightful. And Elvis if you'd begin over here," Paul suggests and Elvis follows his direction. "Wonderful, wonderful! Let me make sure the cameras are ready to roll and we'll start filming."

Paul runs off toward the cameras as a few lingering set assistants swoop in to fix some details. You chuckle as you make eye contact with Elvis from across the set and he winks. A few moments later, Paul's voice rings out again.

"Alright kids let's begin from 'what are your dreams, Roger?' And...action!"

"What are your dreams, Roger?" you start.

Elvis recites his monologue, much longer than most of your lines in this scene. When you originally read the script, you were upset by the idea that you had so few lines, but now as you sit shuddering silently with anxiety, you're actually quite glad. You don't think you could handle more than a few lines. You watch as Elvis dances around the set, interacting with the props exactly as scripted. You find yourself genuinely impressed by his skills. He continues through the monologue until he sits next to you on the fountain. He takes your hands in his and stares into your eyes. Suddenly, your mind goes blank and you realize that you've forgotten what you're supposed to say.

"What about you, Maggie, what are your dreams?"

"I dream of a day filled with sun, sand between my toes, and...er..."

"Cut! Okay, Y/N, honey let's try it again, please. Remember the line is 'I dream of a day filled with sun, sand between my toes, and my body in your arms.' Let's go again please. Reset and...action!"

You shake yourself back to focus, repeating the line again and again in your head. Before you know it, Elvis is sitting by you on the fountain.

"What about you, Maggie, what are your dreams?"

But when it comes time again for you to recite your response, your heart begins to thud in your chest. Your brain jumps forward to the scene you know will follow in which you have to kiss Elvis Presley. Passionately. And nerves quickly take over.

"I dream of a day filled with sun, sand between my toes, and my body...in your...arms, in your arms. I'm sorry," you say, dropping your head into your hands.

Although Paul remains calm, you can tell that he's growing irritated. Elvis touches your hand gently and nods encouragingly.

"You'll get it, darlin. I know you will," he says with a wink.

Your heart beats quickly in your chest snd the frog in your throat keeps you from saying anything. So instead, you just nod. Elvis returns to the start of the scene and you take a deep breath. Paul yells action and you start the scene once more. You're doing wonderfully and you finally get down your line, but as Elvis' fingers intertwine into yours to the soundtrack of his deep southern drawl and beautiful sea blue eyes, your memory turns into mush.

"And what'll we do then, Maggie?" he asks, leaning in as his eyes flick down to your lips.

"I...we will s...we...shit," you hiss, rubbing your fingers on the bridge of your nose. "Excuse me. I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."

You can feel the heat climbing into your face and ears now. You stand up as the crew begins to reset and walk back into the corner, closing yourself off from the rest of the staff as much as possible. You scold yourself in whispers.

Since your eyes are closed, you jump at the sound of Elvis' voice beside you.

"Y/N, y'aright honey?" he asks.

You turn with your best fake smile and nod.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just...frustrated, that's all. I promise that I'm more professional than this. For some reason I just can't..."

"You'll get it. I know you will. I've seen you act on the screen and watchin you is like magic."

You lift your gaze to his as the hint of a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.

"Thank you. But it does no good if I can't even remember my lines on day one of filming. I'm better than this, I know I am. I just need to-"

"Hey," your breath hitches in your throat as Elvis takes ahold of your fingers. His warm, calloused fingers soothingly circle over your knuckles. "You just need to relax, baby. Listen, I ain't never acted opposite someone so beautiful and talented before. I can't wait to see what you can do. Just relax and take it slow, like we're havin a real conversation. Yeah?"

You nod and smile. He gently pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger

"Atta girl."

You close your eyes and heave a few deep breaths before returning to your mark to prepare for the scene. Paul raises his eyebrows and you nod back with a determined expression. Paul's worked with you several times before and you know that he's aware of your talent. He probably realizes that you're just having an off day. Paul yells action and Elvis begins the scene. You breathe a sigh of relief as you make it through your first line without issue.

"What about you, Maggie, what are your dreams?"

"I dream of a day filled with sun, the sand between my toes, and my body in your arms."

"And what'll we do then, Maggie?" Elvis asks.

He takes your fingers gently, giving you a reassuring squeeze. You smile at him and tilt your head. His gaze is soft and sweet, his blue eyes sparkling in the romantic light of the set. His eyes flick down to your lips and yours do the same as you prepare to say your next line.

"Well, I'm not sure. What do you have in mind, Roger?"

Elvis smiles, his hand gently cupping your face. His thumb strokes your cheek and he pulls you to him. You lean forward slowly, tilting your head. Right before your lips touch, Elvis pauses and takes you in. You bite your lip and he leans forward to press his lips onto yours. You smile into the kiss, your arms winding around his shoulders to pull his body closer. His snake around your waist and he deepens the kiss. Your fingers start to tangle into his hair and he accidentally leans forward a little too far, caught up in the passion of the moment.

You yelp as you both fall sideways into the water of the fountain. Your clothes are immediately soaked and you both burst into laughter. Paul yells cut and claps.

"That was honestly wonderful! You know, I think I like this better than what we had scripted. We wanted Roger and Maggie to be a lighthearted, fun-loving couple, and I think this demonstrates that beautifully. Let's get you both cleaned off and go for another take. Great work, everyone!"

You and Elvis are still coming down from your fits of laughter. Elvis steps out first and holds his hand out for you. You accept his help and he pulls you to standing as the last few chuckles escape from your lips. Silence settles between you and you chuckle nervously.

"Thank you," you say.

"Don't mention it, darlin," he responds, waving his hand dismissively. "Sorry for gettin ya all wet."

You chuckle and shake your head.

"Oh, I don't mind. If it means I get to kiss you again, I'm all for it."

You turn to get changed into a dry costume, glancing over your shoulder to see a surprised Elvis with deep red cheeks.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

🦋 mila

[ghostinthebau]

Super Fanfic Rec List -- Iron Dad Edition (because I just wanna share the love)

I’ve had such a blast reading fanfic of the IronDad and SpiderSon variety over the last 6 months or so, and I thought I’d just make a rec list of some of my favorite stories.  Most of them are angsty, with whump and hurt/comfort because that’s what I live for.  

This is in no particular order or in any way complete because there’s just way too many amazing fics/authors in the Iron Dad fandom, but it will still be hella long, so....here goes! 

First off, @yellowdistress:

What We Are series - Bio-dad Tony series that goes all the way through Infinity War.  Endgame AU.

Someday I’ll Make it Out of Here series - Adoption AU!  It’s so good.

The Missing 92 Days - A take on HYDRA Peter that destroyed me emotionally.

Reviving Peter Parker - This about killed me.  Peter actually died during his fight with Toomes and SHIELD brings him back a la the TAHITI project like they did with Phil Coulson.  

A Sailor Went to Sea - Gut-wrenching Endgame fix it.  

Double, Double

@losingmymindtonight:

Webcams and Webshooters series

I Never Lived ‘Til I Lived In Your Light series - !!! TISSUE WARNING !!! Peter dies, but there’s another one shot with a happier ending if you need it.

And You’ll Blow Us All Away - Adoption fic!  A lovely one at that.

5 Times Peter’s Mental Illness Made Him Stumble And The 1 Time He Refused To Falter - I really love a well-depicted take on mental illness, and losingmymindtonight delivered 100%.

If You Can’t Catch A Breath (You Can Take The Oxygen Straight Out Of My Own Chest)

Cyanide? In My Shawarma?

@justme--emily:

The Guardian - Adoption AU with a lovely Loki and Peter friendship!

Radioactive - Peter endures the after effects of the spider bite, and scares bio-dad Tony to death.  Lovely, lovely, lovely.

The Good Fight - Peter gets hurt at the airport in Germany instead of Rhodey.  

@iron--spider:

ever in your favor - Hunger Games AU and an epic work of art!  

Lazarus, come forth - The Endgame fix it before Endgame.  Peter will break your heart.

dear mr. fantasy

this isn’t a game - Highly underrated fic based off the PS4 Spider-Man game.  I’ve never even played the game, and I loved this story.

what if there is no tomorrow? - This story actually made me kinda like Justin Hammer, if you can believe it.  

blindness

@tempestaurora:

hydra’s not a home series - HYDRA Peter, and also bio-dad Tony and bio-mom Pepper!

i’ll find you in the drift - Pacific Rim AU, and I have never seen PR, but I adored this so much.

it’s okay, we’re okay [whumpvember 2018] series

@jolinarjackson:

Lights To Guide You Home series - Another adoption AU.  They are my weakness, and this is one of the best out there.  

... and when you can’t crawl ...

Damaged At Best (Like You’ve Already Figured Out)

@blondsak:

No Life But This

come morning light (you and I’ll be safe and sound)

Burying Grounds - Eeeek!  Tony has to choose between saving Peter or Pepper and it hurts.

hold on, hold on

Something the Soul Needs

@madasthesea:

turn back the clock (and I’ll try again in the morning)

when my body won’t hold me anymore (where will I go)

They have so many other lovely looking fics--including an adoption au series (which I, of course, love), but I just haven’t gotten around to reading them yet.  I’m pretty sure anything they write is golden.  :)

@signofuncertainty:

It’s Always the Little Things

I’m sure their other fic, The Third Option, is fantastic and I really, really wanna read it but I’m trying so hard to wait until it’s complete!  It’s really difficult to wait, though, tbh....I may give in soon.  

@upcamethesun:

Twelve Days Of Peter Parker - So cute and fluffy, and then it kills you at the end.

5 Times Peter Made Tony Laugh Out Loud

5 Times Tony Didn’t Need To Worry About Peter

5 Times Peter Pretended To Be Tougher Than He Was

@frostysunflowers:

Between how it is and how it should be - This story made me love a Peter and Bucky friendship.

@kitcat992:

Identity Theft - This was one of the very first Iron Dad fics I read, and it was a doozy.  Full of whump, medical accuracy, and hurt/comfort!  The author is posting a sequel now, too: Identity Crisis.  :D

For Pete’s Sake!

@camelot-queen:

Goner - A perfectly heartbreaking kidnapping fic, but heed the warnings!

Who Saves The Hero

Never Meet Your Heroes

i’m the satellite (and you’re the sky) - Tony is Peter’s bio-dad but Peter doesn’t know it.  I haven’t actually finished this yet, but it’s good.  So, so good.

@peter-stank:

built from scraps - YOU GUYS, this is one of the best fics I’ve read on AO3.  It’s a ‘Tony gets dusted instead of Peter’ AU, and it’s got such an amazing dynamic between Peter, Pepper, and Morgan.  It’ll also make you tear up a few times, at least.

@geekymoviemom:

Sins of the Fathers - So, I’ve only read the first 5 chapters of this epic length (303k words@) adoption AU so far, but I’m LOVING it so I wanted to add it here.  They also have an even longer bio-dad Tony with added Stony bonus series, Pieces of Echoes, that they’re posting the 3rd installment to right now.  I’ll definitely be checking it out!

@too-many-bees:

let’s kick it

like a bridge over troubled water

@jbsforever:

it’ll be over (and I’ll still be asking when)

@tnyystark:

where the memories reside

@whumphoarder:

Quieting the Void series - Peter kinda has an eating disorder due to the spider bite, so take care if you read!

Poison Apple - Loved how medically accurate this was, and Ned’s reaction to Peter’s condition was heartbreaking.

@seek-rest:

It Hurts to Become

Someday We’ll Know - This is a Walk to Remember AU, so there’s MCD.  I’ve gotten about halfway through, but I can only read it when I’m in the right mindset.  But it’s lovely and so well done.  

This author has so many fics that I’m sure are amazing, and they’re on my ‘to read’ list when I’m in the mood for beautiful Spideychelle stories.

@caraminha:

The Primary Reason Tony Stark Would Throw Down With an Anti-Vaxxer in the Street - Hella scary depiction of Peter with tetanus, and it’s SO GOOD.

@tonystarkstan:

it all comes back to this

skeletons series

to build a home series - I love recovery fics, and this was a beautiful story of Peter dealing with the aftermath of being snapped and coming back.

lay your weary head to rest

@foolscapper:

Exploding Head Syndrome - Everyone comes back when the snap is reversed, but Peter is sort of catatonic--stuck between the living world and the soul stone where he’s with Gamora.  It’s such a lovely fic.

@alice-in-ink:

It’s a Little Bit We Do

Danger Pizza

@legalassie:

oh, darling - Peter’s kidnapped and Tony frantically searches for him--one of my favorite things.  Peter uses his smarts to help him get out of the situation, too, which is also one of my favorite things.

don’t think about tomorrow. 

@blackwatchandromeda:

Broken Thoughts (I Remember Everything)

Leave Me to Dream

A Nightmare to Remember

@emma--anacortes: 

Accepting the Tides - Here I am with another adoption AU.  Can you see a pattern yet?  I love them, and this one has danger and whump and comfort as well.  

@ardenskyedarcy221b:

they are standing in the garden - This hurt.  Several times the author had me tearing up and there’s a few lines that will stay with me forever.  It was just immensely lovely to read.

@iamallyetnotatall:

At the Start of the Universe - This was so much better than I was expecting! Peter is an Angel, and he knows Tony from the very beginning of the universe. It’s different, but absolutely gorgeous.

@starktowr:

somewhere outside my life - I don’t wanna say too much, but just read this.  It’ll break you and you’ll love it.

@jessicagoddamnjones: 

too bad (but it’s the life you lead)

@silver-bubbles:

The Fire’s Out (But Still It Burns)  

@day-dreamer176:

Like A Strike of Lightning - I kinda took this as a demonic possession a la Supernatural, but I don’t think it actually was.  Either way, it was fantastic.

fifty-four

five, tops

The World Stopped

@ambivalentmarvel:

Into His Fold series - Where Thanos brings Peter back from the ashes to make him into his new son (a la Nebula and Gamora).

@notaparty-trick:

Doom and Gloom - A ‘Peter doesn’t get dusted’ AU, filled with whump and Iron Dad and an awesome Carol Danvers.  Angst!!!

Dust and Blood - Peter is hurt much worse when Toomes drops the building on him.  More angst!!!!  This author does angst very well.

@ema--vee:

You don’t have to hold your head up high - Peter can’t thermoregulate!  I love that trope.

@forensicleaf:

All the Things We’ve Lost (And All the Things We’ve Gained) - This one gutted me, and then made it better.  But there’s pain to be had before the comfort!

They just posted the first chapter of a new WIP that looks AMAZING, too: Can’t Part the Sea, Can’t Reach the Shore.

@plnkblue:

foolish, fragile spine - Peter’s severely injured in his fight with Adrian Toomes and Tony finds him.  

@helloitisiafellowgay:

god did not craft us as altars, but as dying gods - Okay, guys.  This one is heavy.  It deals with Skip coming back into Peter’s life, and it’s not pretty but it’s handled superbly.  It’s a tough read, but one I definitely recommend if you can handle it.  Take care of yourselves first and foremost, though.  <3

~ ~ ~ I’m not sure if the following authors have a tumblr, so I just linked their AO3 pages ~ ~ ~

eccentric_artist_221b:

Only for a Little While - This is a Titanic AU, and it’s AMAZING.  There’s several scenes that just took my breath away and brought me to tears (not an easy feat). They’re also working on a WWI sequel!!!!

tiaylasglass:

the one who made it out - Short, simple in a gorgeous way, and poignant.  

And finally, I thought I’d humbly add my own little contribution to the fandom.  So far, I’ve only written the one fic, but I hope to write more in the future!

@ghostinthebau:

For Want of a Dad (in need of a son) - There’s a bit of blood, and a very distraught Tony at one point, so warning for angst and injury!

Again, this list is probably severely lacking, and if someone has a rec that’s not on here please please please reblog this and let me know!  I’m always in the mood for more fics.  

And I hope anyone reading this finds something they enjoy!  

I’m sure you will.  

ilu 3,000

:)

[samirant]

The Saga of Backpfeifengesicht

It is August 22nd and the Jaime x Brienne Fic Exchange anonymity is over! And with this, I can finally tell the tale of how I got repeatedly cockblocked fic-blocked by @ajoblotofjunk​ - because without that sly little minx, I never, ever, would have gotten to write Backpfeifengesicht. The thanks and blame lies almost entirely at her feet. 

The following is rather gif-heavy, thanks to some of my favorite shows. Brace yourselves. 

You could assume the story starts with this:

It does not.

It really started with this:

And then...

And from there it took off!

It ended up being @slipsthrufingers​, @nire-the-mithridatist​ and @firesign23​ who took the helm on the exchange. You’ll notice that I’m not anywhere in these conversations, mostly because I’d never done a fic exchange in my life, let alone run one. The decision to stay a silent supporter in the background was an easy one to make. Surely that way I could stay outside of the chaos and drama that was sure to come. 

Little did I know.

The exchange opened and the numbers ticked up. Best estimates were that fifty writers would sign up and the exchange got TWICE that. It was phenomenal, exciting, wonderful - and thus the work began. What prompts would we get, who would we write for, what would we write?

Then, an email:

I knew @brynnmck​, or at least of her. Best buds with sdwolfpup aka @ajoblotofjunk​, lives in the States and I knew for a fact that she  enjoyed my writing in the past. This is going to be a breeze.

(Oh, I was a sweet, naive summer child.)

There were three different prompt options: rock star fic, vacation fic, and an oh-no-only-one-bed fic. I struck the last one out right away because I’d literally just done a Sansaery story utilizing that plot and didn’t want to repeat myself so blatantly. Like so many others, I went to my friends for help with planning, having one conversation in particular with @forbiddenfantasies1​ that promptly fell out of my brain.

(Three weeks later…)

The vacation prompt seemed the most inviting and I started to wonder, huh, what if Jaime and Brienne are modern adrenaline junkies and they do extreme vacations, like BASE jumping?

...I know nothing about BASE jumping.

And, what’s more, in the course of that time period, I read a fic by sdwolfpup where she referenced BASE jumping between the two of them. I chuckled to myself and tossed that idea aside. Back to brainstorming!

Inspiration struck! I decided on the vacation prompt - with a twist! I started writing! I turned to my good friend @forbiddenfantasies1 aka FF and said I HAVE SOMETHING YAAAAY: 

And I took a second to wonder… wait. Did she tell me this three weeks ago? 

Did I...? 

...oh no. 

Oh, no no no.

I searched our Discord history and...

I stole my friend’s prompt. I STOLE HER PROMPT.

That’s not me throwing a gauntlet, that’s me throwing away my bit of fic in the garbage, where it belonged. THE GALL. THE FAULTY MEMORY THAT LED TO MY WORST ACTION.

FF tried to be gracious about it, though she was in no way at fault. NO WAY. We had a long talk. And then a longer one. And then another where I said ENOUGH! You write yours and I’ll find something different, it’s the right thing to do. 

So I turned to the Rock Star Fic. Music. Guitars. Not my bag, but there’s something there. The brainstorming began again. Then, courtesy of @ajoblotofjunk :

Wait, what?

SDWOLFPUP AKA BRYNN’S BESTIE

IS

WRITING

A

MUSIC

AU

Not just anyone. Her best friend. A brilliant, brilliant writer. 

There was only one thing I could do. 

So there went mine.

(Slips: TWO CAAAAKES!

Sami: HER BEST FRIEEEEEEEND! NO!)

Commence brainstorming, part… whateverthefuck, I don’t even know.

And some more brainstorming. (And the beginning of some A+ dramatics.)

It... was not pretty.

My friends reminded me that it only had to be a thousand words - I could do that, it was highly attainable, I just had to find something. Anything. FF knows Brynn and said that she’s so chill! She’ll enjoy anything, just give it a shot!

I gave it a shot.

The struggle continued. My brain was stuck on the fact that I had been a bad, prompt-thieving friend and then that whatever sdwolfpup already had cooking was surely miles ahead of what I hadn’t been able to piece together. My friends told me to stop being so dramatic. I said:

Finally. An idea came to mind. Something simple, maybe even a single scene. The vacation prompt. Perhaps… Brienne goes on vacation. No one knows her, she doesn’t have to prove anything to anyone, maybe she decides to take a chance on that handsome man at the bar.

Yes, I told my dear @Luthienebonyx. I think that’s what I’m going to do. Brienne meets Jaime in a bar.

ONE HOUR LATER:

ONE.

HOUR.

LATER.

And if you aren’t convinced that karma wasn’t out to get me, may I draw your attention to the acknowledgement in the notes:

J’accuse! FF! @forbiddenfantasies1​ !!!!!!

Et tu, FF?

INDEED, CAPTAIN RAYMOND HOLT. INDEED.

I was languishing. Suffering. Bemoaning the very idea that I should even be in the exchange at all!!!

Meanwhile, SDW:

And I am:

I turned to FF, all HOW COULD YOU!

She was understandably confused. 

I was back to the drawing board.

There was a serious discussion of handing off my prompts to another writer, trading with someone so that I could get over my writer’s block - or at least stop getting fic-blocked by a certain talented author who was surely in cahoots with my friend-enemy FF.

FF tried to talk some sense into me. And she handed me, as it has come to be known: Brynnformation.

I decided to give it one. last. go. 

And I remembered.

Nine months later, the time had come for Backpfeifengesicht. 

I held it close to my chest. Very close. So close that I stopped checking tumblr for fear of discovering that sdwolfpup had caught the scent of my story in the air and eclipsed me yet again. When my friends asked how it was going, I was perfectly reasonable, totally chill, very:

I was informed that sdwolfpup had gone on vacation, THANK GOD, I WAS SAFE FOR A WEEK.

After I got past the murderous paranoia, I started to put a story together. Vacations. Road trips. Baseball. And, as it said in the prompts, Brynn enjoys herself some J/B lovin’. FF pointed out that Brynn had a fondness for lovin’ that involves tables.

And with that Friend-Enemy FF became Friend FF once more, as she should always be considered.

All hail Brynnformation!

Yes. It was Backpfeifengesicht’s moment to shine.

(I… stopped checking sdw’s tumblr. For my own sense of self and stability. If she came up with a random german name, I was sure to throw in the towel.)

I wrote and wrote and wrote some more. I refused to let my friends see it for fear of jinxing the whole damn thing. I was nearly halfway through when I had a truly horrible day at work and the only thing that cheered me was to break my silence and share a bit of it with @forbiddenfantasies and @elizadunc - they were new to my whining in ways that Slips, Nire, Luthien and Firesign had grown immune to.

Their response?

Though I was still in a mindset more like:

FF: Sami, stop freaking out.

Sami: I CAN’T.

I looped in the rest of my friends, so they could beta and also convince me not to bin the entire thing all over again. It was the work of SIX PEOPLE to keep me from giving up this whole damn thing.

SIX PEOPLE.

At last, the story was done and I landed somewhere between:

and

Don’t believe me?

I kept my eye out for sdwolfpup. If she was watching, she was being clever about it. 

I edited. 

My friends and wonderful betas tried to talk me down off the ledge. Repeatedly.

I made myself wait to post anyway, and not without one last freak out.

AND

SHE

DID

But hey, she also said:

Gee... I wonder how that happened?

@forbiddenfantasies1​ - you are a filthy liar and the goddamn best <3 This story would not exist without you or sdwolfpup’s fic-blocking ways. My love and my echoing screams of despair to you both. 

[runawaymarbles]

Good omens fic rec

A Letter from “Crawly” to Azirapil by mostlydeadlanguages | 500 Words | G

This remarkable letter of unknown provenance surfaced recently in the cuneiform collection of the University of West Wessex. Addressed to Azirapil from a Mr. “Crawly,” it appears to be begging for the other’s return to Ur from a western journey with another individual, Abiraham. The relationship between the two (brothers? business partners? friends?) is unknown.

404 Email Not Found by Dacelin | 700 words | G

The first the Metatron knew about Armageddon was when Aziraphale contacted him to beg for it to be called off. Being a professional, the Metatron murmured soothing things about it all being part of the plan and rerouted the call elsewhere instead of admitting he had no idea what the principality was talking about.

my black eye casts no shadow by gyzym | 1.5k | Not Rated, probably M 

If you cut humanity to the quick, split it open, found its soul, it would have dark red hair and bright wild eyes.

So You Need To Get Into A.Z. Fell & Co.; Now What? (A Guide For Unfortunate Bookworms) by arkhamcycle | 1.8k | G

London’s antique enthusiasts and rare lit nerds alike know that if you’re looking for a specific vintage or antique book, you have a good chance of ending up in A.Z. Fell & Co. as a last resort. And if you’ve ever been in (or are currently in) this predicament, you know how much of an absolute nightmare it is trying to even get in the door. Luckily, this handy guide, the fruit of a months-long collaborative effort to create the perfect formula for gaming the A.Z. Fell system, will tell you everything you need to know, complete with a comprehensive breakdown of what, exactly, the opening hours are. Compiled by pageknight and inky of the Rare Antique Forums.

Quiet Light by drawlight | 2k | T |

There are rules. The trouble with hearts is that they play by none of them.

between the shadow and the soul by absopositivelutely | 2k | NR

(alternatively: it takes 6000 years for crowley to realize that aziraphale could love him too.)

i just happen to like apples (i am not afraid of snakes) by gyzym | 2k | Not Rated

Written for the following prompt: "Someone write me Crowley the bitter lesbian who only gave Eve the apple because she thought feminism should be there from day one." As such, please be warned that this story contains some fairly radical reinterpretations of Biblical stories and themes; if that sort of thing is not for you, please give this tale a pass.

Secret Agent Man by Emamel | 2.3k | G | 

Edward was very good at two things: noticing things, and not being noticed in return. It was the sort of qualities that made you a good spy. These two never got the memo.

Ten Fathoms Deep On the Road to Hell by BuggreAlleThis | 2.5k | G

Aziraphale is given an assignment as a Captain in the Royal Navy and finds life at sea miserable. Crowley, on the other hand, is having plenty of fun as the Captain of a motley pirate crew.

Untitled Goose Fic by rattatatosk | 3k | T

It's a lovely week in the South Downs, and Crowley is at war with a Horrible Goose.

Anthony J. Crowley, Retired Demon and Airbnb Superhost by TheOldAquarian | 3k | G 

What are you supposed to do when you've been fired from your sweet job in Hell for thwarting the schemes of Satan, you've got a swanky flat in Mayfair, and you're looking for an excuse to spend all your time in someone else's bookshop? Obviously, you turn to the dubious world of short-term vacation rentals. The resulting Airbnb property has been variously described as "an instagram trap," "a vampire den but make it botanical," and "the weirdest bed and breakfast in the shared history of beds and breakfasting."

Salinity (And Other Measurements of Brackish Water) by drawlight | 3k | T | 

It's an odd thing, getting on after the End of the World. Crowley takes to sea-watching.

Stopgap by RC_McLachlan | 3k | T | 

"Can you imagine ruining something so frustratingly perfect just to get a leg up with Management?" Crowley then remembers who he's talking to and why he's here in the first place. "Sorry, bad example, of course you can." A missing scene from Episode 6.

Wednesdays Are for This by magpiespirit | 3k | T

"D'you think we should have sex," he asks idly, pressing post on his addition to the exclusive How to Summon and Bind Demons forum. This one, he's sure, will both give Hell several annoying headaches and make a dent in the problem of demonology rising in the incel community. Bless, he loves having free time. "I think," Aziraphale replies frankly, giving Crowley a really, now look over the rims of his stupid glasses and the top of a first edition of something that probably uses a hundred words to say what could be said in five, "that should is a word best left to Heaven and Hell." And Crowley, who was only looking to fluster the angel a little, belatedly remembers that he's gotten commendations for Aziraphale's temptations.

build me a city, call it jerusalem by gyzym | 3.5k | T | 

Man begets man begets The Tales of Men, and there's nothing godly in that; Those Above and Them Below haven't any need for the stories humans have been hungry for since the snake and the Angel with the flaming sword.

The Plantom Menace by theinkwell33 | 3.6k | G 

There is an urban legend well known in this area regarding The Plant Man. Footage exists, blurry and ill-lit, of the trespassing fiend, but it never provides a good look at his face. He exists only as a rumor; a giggled whisper in someone’s ear at the pub, an inside joke at uni, and a viral sensation. None of these things mean he is not real. That being said, the only person who can corroborate the truth about the Plant Man is the man himself. And unfortunately, Anthony J. Crowley has no idea that it’s him.

get religion quick (cause you're looking divine) by brinnanza | 4k | G |

So it was fine. Even if Crowley couldn’t love him, he clearly liked him well enough, and that was almost the same thing. It no doubt would have continued to be fine, or at least fine-adjacent, were it not for a narrowly averted apocalypse and several bottles of a really quite nice Riesling Aziraphale had found in the back room of his newly restored bookshop.

to carthage then i came by Lvslie | 4k | T | 

‘You’re difficult to follow sometimes.’ ‘Difficult?’ Crowley echoes, feeling hollow. ‘Am I too fast? Am I going—’ And just like that, there’s something new in the silence between them, a tightening. The glass almost slips from his grasp, sliding from between languid fingers. His vision clouds. —too fast for you?’

Snakes and Stones (Never Broke My Bones) by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee | 4.5k | G

No one wants to say it, but the residents of Dorm A, floor 3, are collectively convinced Aziraphale Fell’s boyfriend does not exist. This is their story.

as the poets say by nikkiRA | 4.6k | T

Crowley takes a long drink of his wine and then says, before he can chicken out, “Aziraphale, I have always been sure about you.”

Re-Recalled by Jennistar | 5k | T |

Halfway through an argument, Aziraphale gets accidentally discorporated and doesn't come back. Crowley does the sensible thing and panics.

the bookshop nemesis witch by FlipSpring | 5k | G

The life and times of Nicole Percival Castings, Witch. Featuring: her ongoing love/rivalry with a particular magical bookstore, an Eccentric(TM) shopkeeper who keeps a huge snake in aforementioned bookstore, finding oneself and one's magical power, the cyclicality of life.

your smile speaks books to me by laiqualaurelote | 5k | T 

Aziraphale's bookshop becomes accidentally famous on Instagram, to his great distress. Since Crowley invented Instagram, it's also his problem.

it's a new craze by attheborder | 5.5k | G | 

CROWLEY: I try not to make a habit of gratitude, but I must give our appreciation to everyone out there who’s been listening and subscribing to The Ineffable Plan. AZIRAPHALE: Ooh, yes, we’ve become quite popular, haven’t we?CROWLEY: Yeah, just hit number eight on the advice charts … No advertising at all.  AZIRAPHALE: Mm. How … miraculous. CROWLEY: … Aziraphale. You did not.

your apple-eating heathen by katarzi | G | 5.7k

History is written without them, and Crowley’s no lady.

the blues have run the game by indigostohelit | 6k | NC-17 (more of an M)

Halfway between the Beginning and the Apocalypse, Crowley visits the court of King Saul, and runs into a prince, a war camp, and a songbook. 

the earth has never felt this old by brawlite | 6k | T

Crowley has a long history with holy places.

TwoFish by Grindylowe | 6k | T | 

A love story about angels and demons. Also, fish

A Nice and Accurate Lesbian Herstory Archive by badwig | T | 6.6k

More or less just the opening montage from 'Hard Times' but they're lesbians - a series of vignettes from the Garden to now.

parable of shepherds by Lvslie | 6k | T |

‘Aziraphale, you need to stop telling that goddamned story to everyone we stumble upon,’ she hisses. ‘I’m serious. You keep it up much longer, everyone’s gonna think we’ve gone and murdered that alleged husband of mine. ‘Crowley,’ Aziraphale says blithely, a serene smile plastered to her face as a familiar-looking man passes by, ‘Dear. That’s what I want them to think.’

Nothing Like The Sun by mirawonderfulstar | 6k | T |

One tended to go through a number bodies in six thousand years, even if one was as cautious or sturdy as Aziraphale. Crowley, who was neither cautious nor sturdy, had gone through a large number. He’d changed appearance so many times that in Aziraphale’s memory he was often just his eyes, for no matter if Crowley was tall or short, lithe or stocky, blond or raven-haired, his eyes stayed the same. 

Blessed/Cursed Retirement by DictionaryWrites | 7k | T

Liam Buttersby, a very normal, nine-year-old boy, makes a friend in the retiree who has recently moved to his village in the South Downs. The retiree in question claims to hate it, and is a liar.

the technology is neutral by Deputychairman | 7k | NC-17 | 

“Stand up?” he echoed, incredulous but too undone by sensation to express the full force of his disbelief. “I can barely even remember my own name after that, and you want me to stand up?” “Your name is Anthony J Crowley, apparently, although you never did tell me what the J stood for so I can’t help you there,” he said, not hiding his smile. “Do stand up, I promise you’ll like it.”

Part of the Plan by HardlyFair | 7k | T |

In which things do not return to the exact way they were Before.

Where Thou Art by Mottlemoth | 7.5k | M | 

A late-night bus to London, a few human comforts, and a long overdue confession... nothing will ever be the same for an angel and his demon.

The Ark by rfsmiley | 7k | T 

We’ve all been assuming that it takes them 6,000 years to figure it out, but what if it takes 6,300?

Or: the ineffable husbands evacuate a dying Earth.

Ad Astra by drawlight | 8K | NC-17

Some things can only be said in the dark.

except you enthrall me, never shall be free by curtaincall | 8k | T

It's a classic story: Angel meets knight. Angel volunteers to get beheaded by knight. Knight turns out to be angel's demon frenemy. Somehow, there is kissing. Based on the Middle English ballad Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

Falling Rain by Aria | 8k | T |

Once upon a time, an angel and a demon hitched a ride on the Ark.

such surpassing brightness by Handful_of_Silence | 8k | G | 

The revelation that Aziraphale might have been in love with him for thousands of years is surprising. The fact that literal books have been written on the subject comes as even more of a shock.

Without Creativity by htebazytook | 8k | NC-17 |

Another Crowley and Aziraphale through the ages fic, with some heavy symbolism thrown in for good measure.

Exit Wounds by racketghost | 8k | T

“At least they were together for a time,” Crowley says, staring at the lit end of his cigarette, “maybe that’s enough.”

On The Matter Of Touch by Somedrunkpirate | 9k | T

“On the matter of touch,” Crowley begins, waving his teaspoon in what he hopes passes for idle curiosity. “Thoughts?”

and, so on by PaintedVanilla | 9k | M | 

Crowley doesn’t remember heaven, but Aziraphale remembers him.

Going Home by Daegaer | 9k | G | 

Aziraphale is recalled to Heaven, Crowley isn't impressed.

The future's going to break through by nieded | 10k | T

My take on South Downs: Aziraphale and Crowley decide to become professors. This is inspired by the headcanon that Crowley has 20 different degrees. He is the Serpent of the Tree of Knowledge after all.

Wings and How to Hide Them by triedunture | M | 10k 

Crowley's been annoyingly in love for six thousand years. What's another lifetime between friends? Or: Aziraphale definitely fucks and isn't that just perfect?

The Gospel of Crowley by gutterandthestars | 10k | T

Crowley tempts Jesus in the wilderness! Turns out Jesus gives as good as he gets. Also Crowley pines over Aziraphale and has Big Gay Angsty Feelings because, well. Because Crowley.

A Nanny? In MY Summoning Circle? by pukner | 10k | Not Rated

(it's more likely than you think) Warlock "Lockie" Dowling summons a demon. Or, he buys a book off a suspiciously familiar bookseller and is convinced into demon summoning. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

damn.nation, now available on itunes by antistar_e (kaikamahine) | 10k | T

When lowly tempt-pusher Amphora (formerly of Stairwell 7B North, before she Fell,) gets the notice that end times are nigh, she gleefully quits her job and cancels her Netflix subscription and takes her place among the legions of hell. This, it turns out, was a bad plan.

Lie Back And Think Of Dinner by jessthereckless | 11k | M |

"Crowley, this is a disaster. This is everything I ever wanted. We’re in love. And there’s a picnic. And we don’t seem to be able to get…amorous without causing earthquakes.” Aziraphale attempts subterfuge. Crowley sees right through him.

Something to do with these sacred words by Solshine | 11k | T

Crowley confesses early, and Crowley confesses often. Aziraphale never knows quite what to say.

A Resurrection of Whales, and Other Omens of Varying Goodness by Margo_Kim | 11k | WIP | T

After the end of the world doesn't end anything, Heaven and Hell send replacements to Earth while the old representatives try to figure out their new normal.

Serpentine by sergeant_smudge | 11k | G |

Five ways in which Crowley is a snake. *And one more thing.

what's to come by PepperPrints, restlesslikeme | 11k | T 

Post-Apocalyptic AU. Even without the Antichrist, both Heaven and Hell insist on Armageddon. Aziraphale is missing and Crowley sets out to find him, driving through a scorched Earth with a witch in his passenger seat.

Basking by bomberqueen17 | 15k | NC-17

Crowley is extremely confused about how or whether celestial beings can experience physical sexual desire. He's also not fantastic at using his words. Things go all... snake-shaped.

Nanny Knows Best by DictionaryWrites | 17k | M

Being a nanny, that should be simple. Simple. Easy as pie. Crowley wished that were true.

One Night In Bangor (And the World's Your Oyster) by Atalan | 17k | NC-17

"All right, I know I'm going to regret asking this," Aziraphale says. "What exactly does this wager entail?” Crowley grins like the cat that not only got the cream but has absconded with the entire cow. He grabs the bottle and swigs straight from it despite Aziraphale's tut of disapproval. "The pot goes to whichever demon can get an angel into bed by the end of the evening."

Soft (A Love Story in Three Bites) by mia_ugly | 18.3k | NC-17

Crowley was an angel, once. Before she fell. Aziraphale was a warrior (she fell too. It just took a little longer.)

The Persephone Clause by Zetared | 20k | T |

When Crowley is forcibly recalled to home office, Aziraphale conspires with a denounced saint and strikes a deal with the agents of Hell to get him back.

in search of the wind by drawlight | 27k | NC-17

After the World Doesn't End, Aziraphale is not returned to his body. Crowley tries to find a way to get to Heaven's fast-shut gates. Aziraphale tries to find his way back from the sky (and back in time).

And So We Come Full Circle by Hekateras | 30k | T | 

"Angel. You know it's gonna be really bad, this time around," Crowley says slowly. "When the times comes, I want you to-"

Mirror, Mirror by ImprobableDreams900 | 44k | T

Adam, Eve, and Crawly flee Eden through the Western Gate, and it turns out that that simple decision makes all the difference in the world...

Slow Show by mia_ugly | 90k | NC-17

In which temptations are accomplished, grand romantic gestures are made, and two ineffable co-stars only take four seasons of an award-winning television program to realize they’re on their own side (at last, at last.)

Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach by Nnm | 100k | T

What Aubrey Thyme, a professional, thought, upon first seeing her new client was: you’re going to be a fun one, aren’t you?

Eden!verse by ImprobableDreams900 | 550k | T-M

When Crowley gets captured by angels and dragged up to Heaven, Aziraphale knows he has to rescue him—no matter the consequences.

[writingismyhappytime]

Escaping Grace

A/N: So I wrote this fanfic over 4 years ago when Blackveilbridesfanfiction.com was still a thing, and there's been a lot change with the band since then. It's one of my first fics to ever write --- actually, it IS THE FIRST fan fiction I ever wrote.I'm going to do some editing to it before it's posted here from its original content since my style is a little different, so it's doubtful there'll be as many chapters, but I still hope you enjoy it! (And please don't judge, I was just a wee babe when I started out. Or judge gently. Well, I actually I judged it pretty hard when reading back through it.)I've rewrote it significantly so much that the plot has changed here and there, as I didn't like the previous at all. It was terrible, I'm going to be honest. I'm going to include in each chapter  references for lyrics used from other bands, as I'm absolutely no musical artist and not clever enough to come up with my own for Escape From Grace to use in their music, so look for that at the end of each posted chapter should it come up.

A sound of immense excitement escapes my lips before I can stop it as I stare at our manager; he's barely made it halfway through his sentence but he has my full attention. I clasp my hands together as I straighten, grinning from ear to ear as I bite my lip.

This is the best news I've ever had. In my entire life.

Well, second best, getting signed on as a band was a pretty big memory to me, and all the people in the room as well. Coming from a nowhere town and being a nobody, working all those bars and gigs trying to get attention --- how we got so lucky, I'm not sure, but I'm thankful. We would still be struggling to make it if it wasn't for our manager, so I'm pretty grateful to him.Even more so now that he just gave this announcement.

I'm so getting him some donuts for our next meeting.

"Well, I'm glad you're taking the news so well," our manager says after a moment with raised brows, and I can feel my cheeks start to heat as everyone looks at me. I give him a sheepish look of apology, leaning back in my chair and trying to contain my excitement.

Still, he had to know I would be excited about this! Sure, we're a signed band, for a record label, but it's still a struggle. Even signed we still have a lot of work to do, and it would be too easy to fall into obscurity or be a one hit wonder, which isn't something that I want. This is going to be the rest of my life, it's what I want more than anything, and I'm not going to let this opportunity slip past me.

We're just getting our footing as a band, trying so hard to break out into a scene already full of so many talented people. Sometimes it's overwhelming and I feel like we've hit a brick wall, like we're never going to climb any higher. No one makes it quick big in this business, I guess, which is another reason why I'm so excited, why this is so important --- it could be our big break!We've been mostly openers for other bands in the last year, with one small tour through a few cities that gave us a lot of publicity, but nothing like this! Per our lovely manager, we're going to be opening for Black Veil Brides on several different occasions on their upcoming tour! They're one of my favorite bands, their songs feature themselves on all my playlists, and the fact we're going to meet them!

Oh, I can't stand it.

Is it suddenly really hot in this room?

I squirm in my seat, chewing my lower lip thoughtfully as Craig continues with the announcement. He was just going over the usual bits, we have a meeting pretty frequently about our lined up gigs and to be on better behavior than the last few. Some, or rather one of us, likes to get tipsy and flirt with fangirls, and despite his occupation as a drummer, still makes the boyfriends fairly upset.

My eyes flick to the blonde drummer not paying any of us a bit of attention, looking at his phone and swiping left or right occasionally. He looks exhausted, black rings under his eyes; I'm surprised he even managed to make the meeting today.

"When's the first show?" Clarke, our bassist, asks, his feet propped in my lap as he leans his chair back, teetering precariously on the back legs. He doesn't seem near as excited as I am about this, but he's never really been that into the type of music that we're playing. He was more into the hardcore, metalish type, which as hard as I might try, my voice just wasn't cut out for. I'm always waiting for the day he's going to drop the bomb that he's ditching us for something more his speed, but I wouldn't blame him.

Take an opportunity where you can get it.

"Three weeks," Craig replies, checking his watch. He's always kind of in a rush when it comes to us, we're not exactly his biggest moneymakers, but I like to think we're not at the bottom either. I mean, it would be nice to actually meet in an official space and not the breakroom of the record label, but I have the feeling maybe Craig doesn't exactly have a ton of pull and probably doesn't have his own office to see us in.

Still, he's been good to us, and I appreciate it. The fluorescent lights above dim a little before getting brighter, reflecting off his shiny bald head. He has thick old man eyebrows that are seriously in need of a trim, and absolutely no facial hair to speak of, which you'd think he'd want to balance out the baldness, but I digress. He's not a thin or tall man, and he has a thing for chunky watches and outdated t-shirts that makes him look like a suburban dad instead of any sort of manager.

"That's coming up pretty quick, don't ya think? We have some stuff already booked, don't we?" Vale looks nervous, shifting in the blue plastic chair beside me. Her gray-painted eyes flick to me, but I give her a bright, reassuring smile she reluctantly returns after a moment. She's my lead guitarist, my backup vocalist, my roommate, and my best friend. She holds many titles very dear to me, in fact. Without her, there's no telling where I would be right now. "And why us, exactly?"

"Well," our manager rubs the back of his neck, clearing his throat and pretending to study the notes jotted down on Subway napkins in front of him. "Another band was going to open for them, but their lead singer has to have his tonsils removed. So, I pulled some favors, and got you guys signed instead!" He grins at us, looking very pleased with himself as he shoots us some obnoxious finger guns.

Vale rolls her eyes as she leans back in her chair, giving him an unimpressed look. She tugs on the end of her long black hair thoughtfully. "Well, you're certainly not letting us fade into obscurity, I'll give you points for that."

Craig looks satisfied with the response.

I glance around the round table we all sit at. Vale to my left who is now focusing on fixing her black eyeliner in a compact, and her brother Clarke where he's casually chatting with Craig as if he's actually interested in the gig. Our drummer, Nate, has finally passed out against the whiteboard behind him, and I'm pretty sure that's a sheen of drool on his chin.

I'm the lead vocalist, the frontperson of our band, and I also play keyboard when it's called for. I've always been close with Clarke and Vale, we grew up together as neighbors. It was their idea to form a band and get out of our old town, and when Nate joined us, it seemed like we might actually have a shot. It still blows my mind that we've made it this far without something breaking us up.

I've never had a lot of good luck, but maybe it's all been building up for this.

"Sooo --- do we get to meet the band beforehand?" I ask Craig, trying not to sound as eager as I feel but probably failing. I wanted to meet them, every single one of them, gawk at them like a fangirl meeting their idol, and wholeheartedly embarrass myself. "Where's the venue? When do the shows start? Are we going to get a bus this time or are you going to make us ride in your minivan again like a gothic soccer mom? Y'know that's not really going to give us the badass impression we're going for."

Vale snorts, biting her lip to hold back a laugh as Craig sighs heavily.

"Just be lucky I had a van to get you all to that show, alright?" He grumbles, but the experience had been mortifying. Just getting started, our actual ride breaks down, and suddenly Craig rolls up in a blue minivan with proud parent stickers on the back glass and yells at us to get in. Never again.

"But yes, you do get to meet the guys beforehand." Craig states, rubbing his jaw. "The lead singer, whathisname, wants to meet you guys before the first show. He's probably going to measure you up and make sure you're up for opening for his band. You guys need to make a good impression," he warns us, as if I'm not already planning on murdering whoever embarrasses us first; only I get to feel humiliated, no one else gets to do it for me!

He glances at Nate where he snoozes, and I know the warning is more for him then anything, but he's sleeping, so it's not really having any effect.

I feel like some tween girl meeting her boyband idol for the first time, being presented with front row tickets to his show. I rub my hands nervously against my thighs, ignoring the dampness my nerves are causing.

I'm the youngest in the band. I've known Vale and Clarke since I was twelve, and without them I doubt I would have made it through my teenage years. Or any years, if I really wanted to admit it to myself. I owed them a lot, more than I could ever pay back, but I'm hoping with our success that'll be enough.

"I heard he was an asshole when Asking Annie opened for them in Vegas." Clarke says, not looking at all thrilled. I frown at him, and shove his legs out of my lap for such a crappy comment. He knows I love that band! He ignores me, letting them drop easily to the floor before straightening in his chair; he better be glad I didn't tip him over!

"To be fair, Alex, their lead singer, is totally dopey and he can only perform while high, so," Vale closes her compact with a snap, the lights glinting off her dark nailpolish. "I would've been an asshole to him too. This is really good for us, guys. This could be it, y'know? None of us are going to screw this up by being rude or listening to rumors. I don't even care if they're true; the publicity this is going to bring us is worth it."

Well, she makes a good point, and Clarke concedes; that or he just decides ignoring his younger sister is better than arguing and just looks away. I'm sure the microwave in the corner has suddenly become much more interesting than the conversation.

I tap a nail against the table thoughtfully, still having a hard time believing this. We're finally getting a big break, with a band that I know at least two of us like, so that's a good thing! I thought earlier I was going to pass out from how hard my heart was beating, how excited I got at the prospect of meeting them.

"Is this not the best news ever?" I sigh as I look at everyone, unable to contain my glee. "Ever? Like seriously? Do you guys know how great this is?"

"Saying it multiple times doesn't make it true," Clarke mumbles, for some reason intent to find a reason to not be as excited as I am. He's always so serious and cautious, ever the distrustful one. Well, I suppose when you're the oldest in a band that you're younger, reckless sister is in, you sort of have to be the adult and the ringleader; hell, I'm the lead singer, but I listen to him and take his advice to heart.

"It'll give you guys a good amount of exposure," Craig states, folding his arms along the laminated tabletop. "Hopefully it'll kickstart some more sales of the new album you're about to drop."

"And Leah will get to meet the object that she lusts so much after," Vale adds with a chuckle.I send her a horrible look, ignoring the heat burning my cheeks; she doesn't have to mention that in front of everyone.

"Really? Which one?" Craig looks amused, and sometimes I get the feeling he sees us more as his kids than business partners. I mean, I think he does have some teenage girls, or boys maybe, I'm not quite sure, so he probably deals with this all the time. Crushes, heartbreak, the need of a minivan for emergencies.

"The lead singer, Andy. It's the voice I think, the deep drawl and that nice hair ---."

"Vale."

Vale giggles, winking at me as she twists the end of her long hair absently. She's enjoying watching me squirm, but really it's no secret. I mean, I wasn't exactly discussing my interests with Craig in that area, but I suppose it doesn't matter now.

Just makes things a little awkward.

"Andy Biersack? Really?" Our manager doesn't look impressed with my choice of crush. "Why am I surprised over this?"

I sink a little in my chair, merely shrugging my shoulders.

Craig just shakes his head before he starts getting to his feet, grabbing his note napkins and folding them together. He's never very organized, but I like to think it's one of his quirky qualities. He tucks the napkins into his shirt pocket, says goodbye to us, and heads for the archway leading to the hall.

One of these days, maybe we'll actually have a meeting room.

"Oh." Craig's head suddenly pops back into the kitchen, holding the end of a torn napkin. "I forgot to mention. You're meeting the love of your life at Club Rehab tomorrow at eight. Don't be late, dress to impress."

"What!?"

Craig suddenly is one, and I stare after him in horror. "Did he just say we were meeting them tomorrow?"

"Mmm." Vale looks thoughtful. "Dress to impress, like don't we always?" she snorts, cutting her eyes at her brother. "Don't be an ass, and yes you're coming. Wake up Nate so we can fill him in."Clarke frowns, glancing at the snoozing drummer, his lips parted as his head lolls back and forth; he's getting marker all in his freshly dyed blonde hair.

"I suppose we don't need to look like losers when we meet them." I mumble as I prop my chin on my hand, watching as Clarke kicks Nate's chair easily with his long legs, causing Nate to wake in a panic, sputtering. He looks around wild-eyed for a few moments before he realizes he's not under attack, then sends Clarke a scowl.

"What was that for!?"

"Rise and shine, Snow White. You slept through the meeting but we have news."

"I wasn't asleep," Nate mutters, wiping at his lips with the back of his hand, blue eyes bloodshot. "I didn't miss anything."

"Were you out late again partying?" Vale looks annoyed with him, her full lips drawing into a frown. She's one of the prettiest people I've ever met, I sort of envy how she always looks so put together and confident. She's tall, but the right kind of tall that's not too tall, and slim, able to wear whatever she wants and she never has problems finding her clothes in the store.I'm much shorter, and I might as well shop in the toddler section to find jeans that aren't too long for me.

"No," our drummer retorts, running his hands down his face. Yeah, sure bud, those black circles under your eyes say something different. Nate was a partier, he was even before he joined us, we knew that. He knew all the best places to have a good time, and I'm fairly sure he doesn't usually get out of bed until noon or he has to meet us. Sometimes you could still smell the cheap perfume and booze off the wrinkled shirt he doesn't change. I like him well enough, but some people shouldn't have fame or too much money, it isn't such a good thing.

Be famous responsibly.

Clarke quickly explains what Nate's missed during his impromptu nap, and our drummers eyes light up. He likes the other bands drummer, admires his techniques, and even his sleepy head knows this is a big deal for us.

Momentous, really.

"When do we meet them?" he asks eagerly, rubbing his arm.

"Tomorrow, and don't come smelling like a bar." Vale replies, staring him down beneath thick black lashes; she has a fierce glare, I'll give her that. She gets to her feet, stretching her arms in front of her. She nudges her chair under the table, and we all sort of follow suit as we get to our feet. Nate mocks her slightly before taking a sniff of himself, only to grimace.

Everything is going to go great tomorrow, that's what I'm going to keep telling myself. We're going to make a fantastic impression, we'll be charming and humorous and they'll want us to open every show! Or, actually, we'll be so famous they'll be opening for us by the time it's over with.

I can dream.

Just.... oh my god.

What exactly am I going to wear?

I look at Vale in utter panic. She could wear a paper bag and look fantastic, but it's not that easy for me.

What if I go in there wearing something horribly mismatched, or that doesn't work at all? What if I look like some Avril Lavigne, pop princess rip off and they don't want us opening? I could say something stupid, insult one of them accidentally, what do we even know about them?

"Why are you making that face?" Nate asks warily as we step out into the hall together. "If you're gonna be sick, aim that way."

"I'm just thinking about tomorrow, don't be a dick." I wait for Vale to catch up with me, seeing she's focused on her phone. "Vale?"

"Mmm?"

"We need to go shopping."

"Shopping?" She sends me an amused look as we fall into step, the worn carpet of the hallway pillowing our footsteps. "Why?"

"Because we need to find something to wear tomorrow."

"You realize whatever you buy you won't wear, and you'll have buyers remorse like you do every time."

"Vale." Now she's starting to stress me!

"Oh, fine, don't freak out. We'll go after we grab some lunch, find something to aww the boys with." she looks amused, and her arm twines with me as we walk. "But don't worry so much, it's just another business meeting. Think of it more like that."

"Is that how you think about every meeting we have?"

"Well, no, I imagine Craig in his underwear and it sort of ruins any intimidation I might feel."

"Well that's a mental image I didn't need."

Vale grins down at me, squeezing my arm as we reach the front desk and give the harried looking secretary a smile as we leave.

I'm worried about tomorrow, but I do tend to worry and be anxious about everything. I might be excited now, but tomorrow I know I'll be an explosion of nerves.I just want everything to go well so badly.

[magpiefngrl]

Hello, my darling ❤️ as a writer I admire, I have a question for you: It’s sort of universally known that a 1st draft is never going to be the best story you can create, but I feel like there’s a fine line between “bad first draft” and “writing is just not for you, my friend” and I feel like I walk it, hard. It seems to come so naturally to some people, and I know it’s different for everyone, but I can’t help but wonder if I’m just not built for it. How do you gain confidence in your own words?

Hello, my dear, and thank you so much for trusting me with this question.

First, let me say that you’re asking someone who has had a lot of problems with confidence in her writing lately ( @bixgirl1 had some words for me the other day), and so what I’ll describe is the way I try to work past that obstacle.

So, here’s what I remind myself: the first draft is for you.

That’s it, that’s the secret. And the only thing that can keep me going. The first draft is for you. You’re writing something to share, sure; eventually. It’s first and foremost for you. I’d bet a lot of money that many of the most-loved fics were very self-indulgent projects. So, love your first draft, mess it up, write scenes you don’t need, write clunky paragraphs and ridiculous dialogue. Allow yourself to fuck it up. If you’re me, you might start writing a scene from one POV and, halfway through, realise it’s the wrong POV and switch it to the other, mid-scene, and continue writing. This isn’t a made-up example; I’ve done this. Also, in my first drafts, I write loads of “He turned to look at him”, “he turned his eyes to…” So much looking and turning! So little description as well. When I’m in the blissful stage of drafting furiously (being in the flow, as it’s called), my drafts look like screenplays. I get the dialogue down and move on, or often I add: [insert sex] or [they fight, figure out why], and I move on.

‘But how does it get better?’ you might ask. My answer is: revisions. I’m a big fan of editing, and I edit ruthlessly. I once made a post, saying:write as if you’re in a glass cage of emotion, and edit as a stone cold bitch. 

Revising is where you start to see your story through the eyes of someone else. Did the motivation of this character come through? Is the plot coherent? Does it make sense they’d do X? It helps to leave it aside for a few days (the longer, the better) before you tackle revisions. You’ll hate bits of it, for sure, but you’ll also find compelling, wonderful parts that move you. Get rid/edit the former and keep the latter. A beta will also catch anything you miss. One of the reasons I love editing is precisely because when I first put down the scene it’s a mess, but with my rewriting and tightening and fixing, it changes right in front of my eyes into something beautiful. 

So, writing is like, first you have to word-vomit on page, like pouring misshapen clay on a worktable, and then, little by little, you sculpt the lumpy mass into what you wanted it to be.

Finally, and this is what’s been plaguing me: examine if you’ve set your standards and expectations too high. I’m very guilty of this lately, because I’ve set some expectations of myself that are impossible. I haven’t been in the flow in months. I write and stop after a sentence to edit it, worrying, always worrying. I’ve realised (after a stern chat with myself – journaling helps so much!) that my standards are not only higher than before, but punishingly high. This is where encouraging friends and some self-reflection help. I’m writing a gift fic that I adore and an original romance novel that I’m keen to play with, but neither work has made any progress this month, because I’ve put an incredible amount of pressure on myself. Any initial desire I had has been drowned by doubts and the fear of failure. 

(Guess what has made me continue my romance story? Telling myself that it’s for me. That no one needs to see it, and I want to have fun exploring this world I made and the new characters I created, and if it isn’t any good, oh well I tried and I had fun doing it, and fuck anything else.)

Anyway, I’ve no idea if this was helpful at all, but tl;dr: 1. Keep telling yourself writing is for you, 2. edit a lot, 3. examine your expectations to see if you’ve set them too high.

Don’t doubt yourself, please. There was a time when I was certain I didn’t have what it takes either. This is fear talking. One last thing: forget the result (completed fic, posted on AO3, published novel etc) and think of the process. In my opinion, to be a writer, you’ve got to love the process. You’ve got to want to spend weeks or months writing something with no certainty of reward at the end (kudos, sales etc), because you’re completely enamoured by the story that’s coming alive on your page. Focus on that, and ignore the rest. For now.

If you need a beta (and the fic is short), let me know. In any case, I look forward to reading it

[isadorator]

A Fic Year in Review - 2017

dear god this was the busiest year i’ve had yet. let’s see how i did fic-wise!! :D and, as always, concrit and comments are welcome ♥

January

to win the hand of pasithea

this fic was hecka fun to read, not so much to write. the first, extremely silly draft was written while on a red eye cross-continental flight, and i had to post in time for the exchange it was for. luckily hallie was really patient as i cobbled together this marichat/ladynoir fusion nonsense during the next couple of months :’)

February

volpina ladrien drabble prompts (8/9):

no clothes

manga

i managed to squeeze in a few drabbles between an increasingly stressful school workload and my own brain turning against me (more than usual)

March

nothing posted this month, thanks again to the double whammy of school and depression :/

April

volpina ladrien drabble prompts (9/9):

the love at first sight/fish tank scene from romeo+juliet

I WAS. SO HAPPY TO FINISH THIS DRABBLE SET. i actually watched the entire movie for this drabble and ended up loving both, it’s a great scene and i think i did a good job with it :D

May

mlnsfweek prompts (3/3):

walking in on

"nice rose, but get off my bed"

dry humping

foreplay

i think i started my summer internship around this time, which meant less time to write. i got a few sin prompts done tho, as you can see, and ‘walking in on’ is probably my favourite thanks to chloe getting rejected XD

June

ladrien june 2017 drabble prompts (1/2):

comme il faut

cat person

god’s gift to women

“sorry, i wasn’t paying attention because your face is so distracting”

trying to finish the other’s sentences and failing

swallow

work still took up pretty much all my time, but i couldn’t let ladrien june pass without even an attempt at it. the sentences one is my fave thanks to nathalie being nathalie, but all of them were fun :D

July

tell the survivors (the help is on the way remix)

auuuugh okay. so. i was going through a lot of shit this month, including work but mostly involving my family, and i usually let out steam by writing. this is the fic i wrote to help me process everything. it turned out pretty good AND helped a lot, ngl

August

ladrien june 2016 drabble prompts (3/6):

late for class

alya's notp

identity slip up

soft ladrien in blanket

ladrien june 2016 drabble prompts (4/6):

desperate kiss

love spell | potion

still deep in work, so i decided to take another crack at the ladrien june 2016 prompts and finished a nice chunk. elaienar pleasantly surprised me with a ladrien art, so i decided to get back at her by writing a drabble to go with it, thus it is my favourite to write for this month :’)

September

everything's better with beanie babies

i went straight from work to school, which again meant little time to write. but crispy’s bday was this month!!! so i decided to finish writing this silly fic we talked about when i visited her as a present and ahhhh just thinking about all this is making me happy ♥♥♥♥

October

ladrien june 2016 drabble prompts (5/6):

sacrifice

rumours

ultimatum

my school went on strike about halfway through the month, which left me some extra time for writing. i went more cute than the suggested seriousness of the prompts and ‘sacrifice’ is probably my fave thanks to lovey dovey lb =3=

November

ladrien june 2016 drabble prompts (6/6):

weakness

caught in the act

falling

the best friend knows

fairytale

fashion show

‘weakness’ was first drafted more than a year ago and the strike meant i finally had the time to sit down and really rework it into something i’m very proud of. it’s probably my best fic to date and the one that challenged me the most this year. i never would have been able to get it to the quality it is without the help of my friends :D ♥

then i finished off the ladrien june 2016 prompt set, which i was also very proud of, ‘caught in the act’ got a little out of hand, but all of these fills i really love and enjoy |D

December

pire noel ladrien drabble prompts (1/6):

the fluffiest gd spin you can put on adrien finding out that ladybug is marinette

during an attack, ladybug tries to get adrien to hide in a certain store/place and adrien has to explain why he’s banned from entering that place for the next 3 years

what the thief left behind

sleet

adrien asks nathalie for girl advice

age difference au

space au

newly established relationship ladrien where ladybug finds adrien’s collector edition ladybug body pillow

adrien is a weeb. lb walks in on him sobbing over an anime/manga and adrien is only half coherent enough to explain why (or stop her from accusing another person of being an akuma after him)

balcony scene

termination shock

pire noel ladrien drabble prompts (2/6):

ladybug craves kisses, adrien is busy with something

adrien moaning

texts (+all the emojis) adrien would send as himself if only he had lb’s number

“ladybug, we need to talk about this problem of yours.” (aka, ladybug accidentally pisses off another holiday guardian because of adrien)

the strike ended near end of the november, but i was so stressed from the condensed workload and my own brain that i kinda retreated into writing fic as a type of relief. i started in on the pire noel prompts which i collected last December, with a brief foray into voltron so i could deal with my many, many feelings regarding aliens, and i really love i was able to stick to 300 words when i got most of them done (only 10 left!!)

Total Year’s Output: 33,115 words!

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted?

i wrote less than predicted, since i thought it would be around the 50k+ of last year. but this was also the busiest year of my life thus far, so i’m proud of how much writing i got done :D

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January 2017?

definitely voltron fic, since i love the show but i don’t really feel the need to write for it. the canon just happened to be the one in line with my pressing need to express my love for aliens

(i literally cried in my astrobiology class over aliens adskjafhlksd)

What’s your favourite story of the year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you happiest.

definitely ‘everything’s better with beanie babies’ because it features the agrestes being ridiculous and reminds me of crispy :’D

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the New Year?

literally every year i say this, EVERY YEAR, but i want to:

a) finish my wips while making a significant dent in my ‘to write’ list, and;

b) WRITE A MULTI-CHAPTER FIC. 2018 IS MY YEAR I’M GONNA DO IT I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD ALKDSJFHLAKSJD

[tanoraqui]

can i has more cr sense8 au percy pls? (if your up for it of course)

*slams 2,000 words on your desk five months later* MY HOBBIES INCLUDE PROCRASTINATING FOR FINALS BY WRITING SCENES FROM THE MIDDLE OF THE HYPOTHETICAL PLOT OF NICHE CROSSOVERS WITHOUT GIVING YOU ANY CONTEXT SAVE A COUPLE OLD POSTS OF BULLET POINTS (posts here. Take this fic as the inter-seasons holiday special, basically.)

“I’mstill not certain we should be doing this.“

Itwas a meaningless statement even before he said it. With her arm in his, withthe warmth of her against his side and the tinkle of her laugh fading in theair, Percy thought he would trust Vex to lead him down any icy path through thewoods, with any blindfold on or off, even if he had never known her moreintimately than he knew himself. Even if they had just met, somehow, one day,and she had smiled and beckoned, he would have followed.

Exaggeratedgagging noises broke into his thoughts—Vax, visiting as almost always, makingVex laugh in the cold Northern darkness. The drugs all but gone from his veins,Percy could feel him again, that knife’s edge of sarcasm prickling overdevotion deep enough to fill the sea.

Two(one? three?) months of isolation was turning him poetic. It was horrifying.

“It’llbe fine,” said Vex, tugging him forward. “Turn right—”

Percyfollowed her instructions obediently. “I don’t know where you get theconfidence that she won’t be looking, just this one night. It’s not like theholidays have stopped them before.”

“Becauseshe’s loony, Freddie,” Vax said with overwhelming fondness.

“BecauseI don’t care!” Vex proclaimed, and Percy felt her toss her hair within herselfbefore it smacked him on the cheek. “We’re taking Christmas back. What they didto your family was horrible, yes, and we willkill them for it, I promise—”

Theothers nodded in agreement, the heroin finally losing its grip.

Vexput her hands to his face—cold, calloused, but the kindest Percy had felt—andpushed up his blindfold.

“Buttonight,” she whispered, wild and soft and fey in the moonlight, “let’s justnot be afraid.”

Theplace she’d led him was beautiful. Vex was beautiful, already shrugging off herbag and dropping down to swap her boots for skates, lithesome and lively as theswaying trees and stars above. They shone down on the iced-over pond, in the centerof the ancient forest, just as they must have in Jerusalem two thousand yearsago. There wasn’t another human being for miles, Percy knew without asking.

“Doyou even know how to skate?” he asked, amused, watching her fumble with thestraps.

“No.”She grinned up at him, entirely impish. “But you do. And Scanlan, I think.”

“Ido,” the man himself confirmed with a smile, making hot chocolate in his LosAngeles apartment.

“Ifyou’re getting gross, I’m leaving,” Vax announced, and vanished—as if thatmeant anything, as if they couldn’t all feel him and see him as well in hiscell in Osaka, or Los Angeles or the Outback or wherever Percy and Vex were.(He didn’t know and she wasn’t telling, and that was how they were safe.)

“Allright!” Pike chirped to her choir straggling into line in her little woodenchurch at the eaves of the Amazon, so newly rebuilt it still dripped tar. “Youready?”

“Let’sdo this!” said Scanlan, bringing two frothing mugs into the living room, whereKaylee was doing her best to scowl at the bright tree and heap of presents.Tary echoed it, squaring his shoulders for a much less amicable familybreakfast, and Grog smashed a beer bottle as he shouted, because it was aChristian holiday but fuck it, it was a holiday, and the peace was still goingand the dirty thugs and criminals of Ankara were going to have a fuckin’ party.

Asfar as possible from any gritty urban party, and more importantly any evilbrain surgeon, Keyleth sat by her campfire and took out her guitar, andlaunched into an offkey rendition of “Jingle Bells” on the warm Australianevening. Across the fire, Kashaw stared at her like she had to be kidding, butwithin a verse she’d smiled enough to draw out his surprisingly rich tenor.

Scanlanblew them both out of the water, of course, and Kaylee didn’t blink as she toreinto a box that she would soon find contained mostly just increasingly smallerboxes, because Scanlan singing was like the sun shining. It just happened. Halfwayaround the world, Turkish pop music blasted out of the bar and down the street,and Grog jumped up and down with Zanror and Worra, mostly on the beat.Tremulous voices strengthening as the sun slipped through the high window andthe rest of Puentamáre’s congregation filed in, swelled by all those coming tovisit the “little angel,” Pike’s choir sang the day in, and Vox Machina stoodand sang with them.

Theydanced in the bar in Turkey, bright lights and pop music pounding against theancient sandstone walls. They laughed over brunch in New York, until Lydiaasked if something was the matter and Mary-Anne kicked Tary under the table,and both his parents shot him dirty looks. They clambered over rocks in theOutback and Tary squealed in fear at a giant spider as Vax laughed and held itup to his face.

Theyjust managed to hold onto the iPhone to film Kaylee furiously flinging sevenlayers of boxes and wrapping paper at their heads, in retaliation for spendingten minutes unwrapping a single guitar shop gift card. But she was laughing,too, so it was okay. Turning state’s witness earned Vax a couple extraprivileges; he spent one on a phone call to Zahra, left bear-sitting, and Vexcried on Percy’s shoulder while they all made kissy noises at the phone andassured a confusedly lowing Trinket that his mama would be home as soon as shecould, and she loved him very much. Percy hadn’t ice-skated since he wassixteen, years before That Night, but they did waltz steps and figure-eights ona moonlit frozen pond somewhere in Siberia, and held each other tight. It wasChristmas and Vox Machina laughed and sang and cried, and held each othertight.

“Whata lovely way to spend the holiday.”

Percyslipped before she finished speaking, eyes clenched shut; he didn’t know whenthe ice was coming until his hands hit, hard, and the spray his face.

“Percy?”Vex.

“Really,Percival,” Ripley said, “You don’t have to so childish about this. I’m not hereto hunt you down, tonight.”

“She’shere,” he gasped, pulling himself across the ice. Eyes shut, don’t even look.Don’t even think. “Vex, she’s here,you have to– get the–”

“Shit!”Vex fumbled for her bag, still on the shore. “Fuck, fuck! Fuck her!”

Ripleyclicked her tongue in disapproval. She stalked silently across the ice, inlight boots rather than heavy winter skates—but then, she wasn’t really there.

“Ithought you might like to go on a trip, actually.”

Andthen they were standing in a corridor, and Percy was the one mis-dressed forthe occasion, bundled up for the frigid wilderness. He had half a foot inheight on Ripley, and he’d worked to keep his machine shop muscles while pentup in…wherever he and Vex were. None of it did anything to ease the way hisstomach turned as Ripley eyed him up and down, judging him for the failedscience experiment he didn’t need to be in her head to know she deemed him. Shelooked almost identical to how she’d been that week starting eight years agotoday, staring down at him. A few more streaks of grey in her bun, but the sameslim glasses, the same purse to her lips, the same damn style of lab coat,sleeves stained red at the end of each day as she peeled him apart. He knew whyshe’d done it, now. It didn’t help.

Thebarest hint of a smile curled up her lips as they both remembered. Then sheturned and strode down the corridor, calling over her shoulder, “Come along.”

Percyfollowed, scanning the hallway for clues as to Ripley’s location. He wasn’tsurprised to find none. The walls were stainless steel and the white-and-blacktile floors were sanitation-clean. It was another Vecna facility, but god onlyknew where in the world.

“Ireally thought you’d be doing better at this, Percival,” Ripley chided, withoutgiving him so much as a backwards glance. “I’ve gotten so much informationabout you and your little group, and you’re just lagging behind.”

“Whatdo you want, Anna.”

Hewas lagging behind, as they walked, but not so far that she’d think he wasn’tplaying along. Every extra second here bought more time for Vex to get theneedle and knock him out.

“I’mgoing to share a secret with you,” she said, with a much younger woman’s senseof mischief. “Just to liven up this little game.”

Theyreached a door at the end of the hallway, steel and locked with a keypad.Ripley smiled at him as she entered the number, sickly sweet. “After all, it’sthe holidays—it’s only right that you be with family.”

Fora long, horrible moment as she swung open the heavy door, Percy thought he wasgoing to see corpses, or worse. A freezer of strung-out piles of tissue andorgans. Eight brains in tanks, still with electrodes attached. He’d seen, onthe opposite side of the laboratory, what they’d been starting to do to hisfamily.

Itwas a teenage girl’s room. The walls were unpainted, but they were decoratedwith posters, of scientific infographics and famous historical women and acouple people Percy vaguely recognized as famous actors. There was a carpet, anelegant shag thing, and a pair of stuffed bookcases, a desk with a very nicecomputer, and a bed with at least two dozen stuffed animals, all of which Percycould name. At least one of them had been his. The girl on the bed, lying onher stomach and reading a book with her legs kicked in the air, was even morefamiliar.

“Cassandra.”

She’dlooked up when the door opened, polite coolness chasing annoyance chasingwariness from her eyes.

“Dr.Ripley. What do you want?”

“Iwas in this wing and I thought I would check on you, my dear.” Despite theendearment, Ripley’s tone had reverted to the crisp professionalism she seemedto show everyone but Percy.

Cassandraclearly didn’t buy either façade. But she rolled to a sitting position withonly a faint sigh, and held out her left arm. There was something attached toit, a cuff with a small screen that flashed first her blood pressure then, asRipley pressed the buttons on the side, several other measurements—BPM, neuralconductivity, and things Percy didn’t recognize. A slim wire ran up from it toa handful of electrodes attached, clearly permanently, to the side of hertemple.

“I’llkill you. I’ll kill you.” His voiceshook.

“Ihaven’t noticed anything unusual,” Cassandra said as Ripley checked thereadings. A bored patient answering unasked questions by rote.  “The new anxiety meds are doing fine.”

Ripleymade a non-committal noise. “Look at me.”

Cassandramet her eyes obediently.

“Leaveher alone. What are you doing?” Percytried to put himself between them, but there wasn’t room. And he couldn’t touchhis sister, couldn’t touch either of them—couldn’t drag Ripley away andcouldn’t take Cass in his arms and just run.(Like that had worked so well, last time.)

“Doyou feel anything unusual right now?” Ripley asked, still holding Cassandra’sgaze. “Physically or emotionally. Really search.”

Awrinkle appeared between Cassandra’s eyes as she frowned. There was a widestreak of white in her hair, family to Percy’s complete bleach. That hadn’tbeen there before. When he’d last seen her, when she was bleeding in the snowfrom bullet wounds as he ran— She was 23 now, the spitting image of Vesper whenshe’d died, except for that streak. The room was still decorated for a teenagerbut Percy’s youngest sister was an exasperated 23.

“Cass.”

Ripley’seyes sparkled at his anguish, but Cassandra remained impartial.

“Nothing.Should I?”

“Youknow better than to ask questions that could influence an experiment,” Ripleysaid. But she stepped back, letting Cassandra’s gaze fall. It returned to herbook.

“Don’tforget,” Ripley added as she re-opened the door, which had automatically lockedbehind them. “The Briarwoods will be expecting you for Christmas dinner.”

IfPercy had thought Cassandra’s expression polite before, when she looked up asecond time it was utterly impassive.

“Ilook forward to it. Was there anything else?”

“Oh,no.” Ripley smiled thinly at them both. “I think everything I need will bearriving soon enough—”

AndPercy was back on the bank, in the snow, in the woods, and everything but Vexfaded as she thrust the needle into his arm and released, the familiar,dizzying haze of cheap heroin washing him clean. Ripley disappeared. Cassandradisappeared. Keyleth, Vax, Grog, Pike, Tary, Scanlan disappeared. Safe. Percystayed as freezing and alone as eight years ago, running from his sisterbleeding out in the snow, assuming she was dead.

“Percy?Percy, are you alright? Is she gone?”

Vex’swarm hands tugged at him and he rolled over obediently, and opened his eyes.She was still beautiful, bright and concerned and fierce. The moon above wasalmost as lovely. Percy lifted a hand to her cheek and caught his breath whenshe held it—no, choked on a sob. That was what his body was doing, now.

“Cass.She– they– I don’t know. She’s alive.” His whole body shook, drugs and cold and every ounce of adrenaline racing through his veins. “They have mysister.”