#fic: troubleshooting

[randomquadballpun]

DAY 61 (attempt no 10) - fin

On Saturday, John woke to an empty bed and a silent flat. Well, nothing new there. He kept still for a couple of moments, listening in on the flat around him. But there was no cursing, no plastic plates being flung into the waste bin aggressively, no slammed doors or unhappy showering sounds. Just silence.

He swung out of bed, tiptoed to the door, and into the corridor beyond. Here, he could hear the faintest sound of voices from the living room. Walking a little bit further he could see that someone had drawn all the curtains shut and the whole room was filled with blue light.

Curious.

He inched over until he could actually look into the room, where he found Sherlock and Rosie side by side. Rosie was sitting on the armrest of the couch, holding one of the agar plates up into the air and shining at it with a small blue light, while Sherlock sat hunched over next to her, fingers carding restlessly through unkempt curls.

"Everything alright?", he asked carefully, causing both of his mad scientist to look up at him.

"It worked, they are glowing green! You have to see this, Dad!" Rosie gestured excitedly with the plate until he had taken a seat next to her.

And yep, there certainly were a bunch of small dots all over the surface of the growth medium and when illuminated with the strange lamp they definitely glowed bright green. It was quite impressive to see really, especially knowing how much effort had gone into this moment.

"Sherlock said that we can go to Barts and try to look at some green bacteria with one of the really good microscopes there!" Rosie - bouncing up and down like a caffeinated rubber ball - pressed both lamp and plate into Johns hands, before springing to her feet and making for the stairs. "I have to show Mrs Hudson as well!" And off she went.

"So ... it worked?", John asked the crouching figure next to him.

"Obviously."

"So what was the key? What did you change this time around?"

Sherlock unfurled, his fingers releasing his dishevelled curls and staring at John with a sour expression. If looks could kill, John would be deceased right now ... as would the innocent green E.coli that Sherlock had put so much work into growing - which would be quite ironic, all things considered.

"Nothing, I did everything the same. I performed this experiment with these exact parameters at least 5 times before without any success."

"Well, something must have changed, right? Maybe The new holes in the wall did something after all?" It was a weak joke to begin with, but confronted with Sherlocks most deadpan expression it fizzled out even more spectacularly.

"All the good bacteria grow into little dots because they grow so fast. They are green when you just look at them without the light. But with the lamp, they really glow!"

Rosie was back, Mrs Hudson in tow. She ran over, took the plate and lamp out of Johns unresisting hand and demonstrated the glowing dots once again, to suitable 'oooooing' and 'awwwing' from their landlady. "I have to take pictures so that I can show them to Molly and Rebecca and Uncle Greg and Uncle Mycroft", she continued, breathlessly. "They are so cool, I knew Papa could do it! And I need to show Mrs Bromley for science class, she did not believe me when I told her about our experiment. And ..."

John tuned out the continued narration, turning to Sherlock just in time to catch the moment when the words sunk in ... It had been such an off-hand remark, but of course, Sherlock Holmes would not miss it. As far as John knew, this was the first time that she had ever called him that. And Io and behold, Sherlock could do the wobbly look with his eyebrows as well. Must run in the family then.

John allowed himself a fond little grin, pulling one arm around his lanky git and squeezing gently. A warm feeling filled his chest and the animated chatter of Rosie and Mrs Hudson filled the air.

It all came together quite harmoniously after all. That was: harmonious measured by the Watson-Holmes household standards. And John would not have it any other way.

--------------------

Troubleshooting, part 29/?

-> That's it! (I could have gone on for much longer, but I think this is a good place to stop). Pure fluff because we can never have enough of that and the characters deserve it! I will need to think of a new short-form writing project now, because I really enjoyed having something that could be written in an hour or two.

-> You can read this entire series starting from DAY 0 on Tumblr or Ao3 or read the previous snippet here.

-> Thanks for coming along!

[bambiraptorx]

i think Draxum deserves to have a cat and also be an asshole about it lmao

[ofmdee]

💛

[etandthekeet]

This college au has given me life. I just had to draw their party outfits. Especially with the way scarab’s was described.

This is from the fic Social butterfly, anxious beetle. It’s so sweet so far

[copsecore]

milo x sweetheart public teasing smutshot anyone? 👀

[lowkeyren]

someone help this is giving me a headache!!

my fic wont show up in tags no matter what... then i did test posts which were just "testing" and some hsr tags, it works so i tried posting my fic again THEN IT BREAKS, AND DOESNT SHOW IN TAGS. LIKE WHATS THE PROBLEM HERE, I DOUBT ITS LENGTH?

ughuhhdhd ive been sitting here for an hour trying to fix this so please help im gonna cry I CANT POST EVEN IF I WANT TO BYE. this is upsetting.

[kitnita]

the fic i just posted is fully not showing up under the men’s hrpf works tag nor under the works category on my own ao3 profile 😭 but it’s also not deleted, like, the link to it still works, so maybe the broader world was just Not Ready for silly little gay fanfictions where the plot is ‘miro being weird about jake being weird about losing games, and jason is also there.’ tragic.

[go-go-devil]

For anyone familiar with AO3, can someone help me out regarding a problem I'm having with uploading images onto a fic?

Several years ago I wrote a fic and placed two images in it which uploaded without any issues, but recently the images stopped loading onto the fic and I'm not sure what the problem is

I had originally made the art myself and uploaded them onto my old DeviantArt account so that I AO3 would recognize the source URL. Like I said above there wasn't any problems with the images not appearing until only a few months ago...

[xxswagcorexx]

deep sigh i think its time to open up scrivener and work on that swagsune ashu fic .,.,.

[astersatdawn]

Landmarks of Promise

Relationship: Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto (Tododeku)

Rating: T

Hurt/Comfort, Scars, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Established Relationship

Oneshot | 1.1k words

Shouto rubbed the fading scar tissue beneath his thumb. It’s simple skin now, years of healing leaving an almost non-existent white line. Time heals all wounds they say, but Shouto wondered if this little scratch would forever be a tiny road bump. 

-

[Or, over the years, Shouto learned about Izuku’s scars.] 

ao3 link: here

Shouto had seen all of Izuku’s scars, but he wasn’t familiar with most of them.

He’s familiar with the criss-crosses coating Izuku’s hands like a mangled glove—Shouto couldn’t forget. He will always remember how Izuku looked at him, teeth grit and eyes wild as he yelled in that moment, his hands bruising purple for each broken bone he’d given himself to make a point, and Shouto remembered the view clearly even if the vision in his right eye was hazy with scar and flame. 

He suspected he’s familiar with one of the slashes on his body, though Shouto wouldn’t be able to tell which one. Izuku never told him if their fight with Stain had given him any scars, so maybe Shouto was creating a destination on Izuku’s skin that did not exist, not in the same way he witnessed how his hands twisted under the weight of saving Shouto.  

The rest, though, began as strangers. He learned the textures of some of them: smooth parallel lines and waxy burns of differing depths but all the same starry shape. There was a history behind each scar, another story Shouto didn’t know, even as he traced the lichtenberg scar on Izuku’s stomach or kissed the ridges on his wrist. 

Izuku would tell him about them, sometimes. It started slow and simple. 

”I was being kinda careless,” Izuku said with a wistful smile. “I was at home, playing heroes with my mom. I stood on the back of the couch, thinking I’d be okay, and my mom, well, she didn’t even have the time to scold me before I fell off. There was a box there… I don’t remember why—I think it was a package or something? But I hit it and it somehow… did that.” 

He glanced towards his feet which were on Shouto’s lap. Shouto rubbed the fading scar tissue beneath his thumb. It’s simple skin now, years of healing leaving an almost non-existent white line. Time heals all wounds they say, but Shouto wondered if this little scratch would forever be a tiny road bump. 

Others were tinged with hints of stories he’d originally heard second-hand; raids and internships and battles Izuku was willing to further divulge upon his return from the hospital. In those initial explanations he’d talk about the adrenaline of the moment, blows recounted in that fast-pace manner not quite distant from the heat of battle itself. 

It was only in the months after, once day had quieted into night, curtains drawn shut to keep out snooping stars, legs tangled and covers drawn to their chins to muffle their secrets, that Izuku would tell Shouto about them in another way, of the emotions so easy to bury for someone else’s sake, a personal moment rather than one meant for flashing cameras and dazzling spotlights. 

“I was scared I wasn’t going to make it after getting that one,” Izuku admitted one of those nights as Shouto traced thick zig zags from Izuku’s collarbone to his waist. 

Those words were said more often between the two of them than Shouto would like, for braving the fear of death was the unspoken truth of their chosen occupation, and an undeniable emotion to pair with each battle scar. But that fear never diminished the pride that came after as Izuku, with a soft smile, spoke of a memory of another person saved. As much as fear lingered, the scars were equally badges of honor neither of them would give up. 

Most of Izuku’s scars were from battle. Few were from training accidents, and even fewer were from childhood games gone wrong. Yet it didn’t mean much, not when Izuku always had more scars than anyone else their age, from their teenage years to long after they outgrew the dorms. 

The collection obtained during their years at UA hid the ones lying beneath, the ones strategically placed on Izuku’s flesh. “I did these,” he had whispered with lingering shame. Shouto had simply cradled his elbow and kissed the healed razor’s edge. 

There was another set that Izuku didn’t divulge for the longest time, even long after the confessions of self-harm. The distant constellations on his skin—his shoulder, stomach, back, and calf—were the stories Izuku refused to tell, even long after Shouto knew how those scars had to come about, considering a training accident led to Shouto earning a freshly branded star for himself.

For a while, he wasn’t sure what his silence meant. Maybe it was Izuku’s way of letting Bakugou keep his place, from being incriminated by his past. Or that, somehow, keeping the past unspoken was meant as a sign of forgiveness, or maybe even as a symbol of a quiet grudge Izuku kept locked away from all, including himself. 

But eventually, he did tell, on a night they laid side by side after nightmares latched onto every good thing they’ve ever held, reminding them of the wounds they carried between them.

“When he gave me that one he told me to jump off a roof and pray I’ll get a quirk in the next life.” 

Shouto set his head on Izuku’s shoulder as if it’s the place he could hear a pulse. Yet, it was too far away for that, so Shouto buried his face into Izuku’s neck and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“Sometimes it feels like that’s what happened that day—to get here, I mean. I’m still afraid one day I’ll open my eyes and realize I jumped off the roof All Might left me on, dreaming of the life I would never get to live before losing the one I had.” 

“You’re here.” Lips brushed against sensitive skin, and Izuku shivered in his hands. Shouto squeezed his waist, and drew Izuku closer. Izuku buried himself deeper into Shouto as he clung onto the weight of the present. “I won’t let you go.”

The fabric of his shirt was tugged down further, knuckles dug into the edge of Shouto’s spine. “But if I wake up there and—”

“I’ll catch you. I’ll find you, whatever it takes. You’ll live.” In the past, today, tomorrow, every day after—when doesn’t matter as long as it’s forever. “I promise.” 

Shouto’s hand drifted up and traced the roads crawling up Izuku’s back, following his map out of order. Each gentle touch was a draw to a memory, each one painful, but real and unforgettable. They’re landmarks for Shouto’s travels to stay by Izuku’s side, even if it meant their time must go out of order for Shouto to meet Izuku there. 

These were the moments Shouto would never know the true depths of, wounds of both soul and bone meant to be carried by one. But he would memorize each for these were the symbols of Izuku’s journey. Wherever the beginning and ending was meant to be, Shouto would find his way there, for that was his vow to keep. 

[randomquadballpun]

DAY 0 (attempt no 1)

It all started out pretty harmless. That was: harmless measured by the Watson-Holmes household standards.

When John returned from work Monday evening, he expected to hear Sherlock and Rosie playfully debating the advantages of squared over lined paper for efficient note-taking or maybe the sound of the two of them battling each other on Rosies Nintendo Switch. Instead, he was greeted halfway up the stairs by hushed silence and a faint burnt smell in the air. Needless to say, he took the last couple of steps a little bit faster.

The picture that presented itself as he walked into the flat was both better and worse than what he had dreaded. His daughter and his boyfriend were leaning over the messy kitchen table, a bowl of ice, a stack of Petri dishes and a burning Bunsen burner between them. To give Sherlock credit, they were both wearing lab coats and gloves and Rosie had been additionally equipped with safety goggles and even wore her messy blond hair in a neat high ponytail to keep it out of the flames.

John let his groceries slide to the floor with a loud thump. "Alright, does anyone want to tell me what you two are doing here?"

Two pairs of startled wide eyes snapped over to him. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, as the two exchanged one quick and not at all ominous glance before starting to explain.

"We are making Ecollies glow green. That’s bacteria!", Rosie declared proudly.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "E.coli. I wanted to show Watson some fluorescing bacteria under the microscope and thought we could make a little lesson in molecular biology out of it. So we are cloning GFP into an expression vector and then transforming the E.coli with it."

"Er …“" John stared at him with a blank face while his mind tried to make sense of the information that had just been conveyed to him. "Alright?"

He could sense the eye roll even though his boyfriend did his best to suppress it – from the corner of his eye, he could see that Rosie had no such restraint. Sherlock clarified. "We are forcing bacteria to produce a protein that glows green under a special lamp. Green fluorescent protein - GFP. We have already put the gene for GFP into a piece of bacterial DNA and shuttled that DNA into the bacteria. Tomorrow morning we can have a first look at them under the microscope!"

That did make sense - sort of. "As long as you clean up properly after yourself. I don't want our toilet to start glowing green in a couple of days!", he reminded them sternly before he stooped down to pick up the bag with groceries again and squeezed past his two favourite mad scientists to deposit milk and butter in the fridge.

"Have you done your homework for tomorrow, sweetheart?"

There was an exaggerated groan behind him. "They are sooooo boring, Dad!"

This was not the first time that they had this discussion but Rosie did sound more like Sherlock anytime they did. "I am sorry, but you still got to do them!"

"Do I reaaaally have to though?"

He had to suppress a grin at the audible pout and tried to force a no-nonsense tone into his voice as he answered: "I told you, if Mrs Harkins asks for any extra parent-teacher conferences this year, I am going to send Sherlock, and no one is going to like the outcome of that." Everyone in the room winced at that prospect.

"I can show you how to do long division once we are done here, Watson. The experiment will only take another 10 minutes, we just have to spread out the bacteria over the agar plates now", Sherlock added in Johns direction.

The doctor nodded absentmindedly before faltering. "Wait, you remember how to do long division?"

This time Sherlock did roll his eyes at him, but with a grin that softened the effect. "No, calculators have been around since before I was born." He winked at Rosie but continued quickly when John shot him a warning glare. "However, I know that there is a tutorial for pretty much anything on YouTube nowadays. Rest assured, Watson and I are going to be able to puzzle out long division."

"Good, thank you." John let his gaze swipe once again over the biohazard that was their kitchen and made the executive decision that he could not be bothered with this tonight.

"How do you guys feel about ordering Pizza for dinner?"

"YES!" Rosie threw her hands in the air excitedly, barely missing the flame that was still dancing merrily between them and not in fact missing a rack of small plastic tubes that had been placed close by as well and was now clattering all over the tiled floor. "I want pineapple, artichokes and pepperoni on mine."

John caught a quick glance at his partners face before the other man dove under the table to hunt after the sample tubes. Well, no matter what the outcome of this experiment would be, at least Rosie had managed to make Sherlocks face glow faintly green tonight.

--------------------

Troubleshooting, part 1/?

-> Will this whole series be incredibly self-indulgent and nerdy - yes!

-> The next snippet can be found here!

[kaffeebaby]

What kinda stuff are you writing about!!

Most of the stuff I'm writing right now are better call saul fanfics. I've always been more of a fanfic writer as opposed to making original characters and worlds.

A lot of my fanfic ideas are the "What if this happened instead?" genre. Like what if Gus rehired Gale and made him work with both Walt and Jesse? That would change a lot of stuff, and I had explored some ideas months ago, but I kinda stopped thinking about it as much as other ideas that were more interesting to me started crowding my mind. I don't want this post to get too long but also >:3c

Lately, I've been trying to come up with ideas for a fic where Chuck forgets to cancel his appointment when he's having his last breakdown, so he misses his appointment and his therapist shows up at his house concerned. And she ends up getting him to a hospital where he can be treated before he has the chance to do anything worse than tear his house apart. That event would completely change everything else that happens in the show, and would even impact the stuff that happens in BrBa, so it's been a lot to think about. I basically have to figure out a way for Chuck's life to become livable for him, plus I have to figure out how Saul can still happen if Chuck is still there and Kim doesn't divorce him due to Howard and Lalo never happening, and. Many other things.

But I have a rough outline of different things that need to happen, and I'm the type of person that daydreams or fantasizes a lot throughout the day, especially at night, so it's nice to have a pet project that has some interesting challenges. I get to justify thinking about blorbos all day because it goes back to something I want to write about.

The one wip I mentioned in my tags was a Chuck and Howard smut that I was writing during January this year. I planned to have it finished and posted on Valentine's Day, but I got the stomach flu like two weeks before that which completely ruined any ability to write people having sex. I tried to keep writing after I wasn't sick anymore, but it was kinda done for at that point, since the deadline was actually really motivating me. I've thought about trying to write more on it again, and I've even considered posting it in its half finished state with an author's note that it's not done. There are very few Chuck and Howard fics, and I only ship them recreationally, so at first I wasn't so upset and not finishing and posting the work. But the more time drags on, the more I feel like there are people who would actually like to read my rarepair fanfic, even if I posted it unfinished with a warning and the possibility I'd finish it later. It works where it is right now, but it's very much not as long as I wanted it to be and there's a lot more stuff I wanted to add that I just don't feel the motivation for at this point. But also that doesn't mean I should keep it locked up forever.

I have some other fic ideas that I've been floating around, but my brain has been consumed by my Chuck Lives AU for a while and it's kinda hard to focus on other stuff. I do have a google doc of all my fic ideas though, and I visit it every now and then when I'm in the mood to write or want to refresh what all of my ideas are. I've been a lot better lately at actually writing down ideas as they come to me so that I don't forget them later.

[l1tw1ck]

could I get a subbot afab Stanford x domtop amab reader drabble/fic, any plot is fine :)

cw: overstimulation, afab lang

"Don't you think it's time to take a break?" You ask, rubbing the lower half of Stanford's back. "You've been at it for hours."

"No, I need to finish this." He says as he tries to troubleshoot his new invention.

"Come on, Ford." You slide your hand down his pants and squeeze his ass. "A break wouldn't hurt."

Ford gulps. He turns to look at you. "You're right.."

👁️

Stanford moans your name as your cock slides in and out of his wet cunt, the wetness dripping down onto his workroom floor. "So good~" His knuckles are white from gripping his desk. His eyes are half lidded both from sleep deprivation and pleasure. It's like he's floating.

"That's right, babe, just let me take care of you." You gently massage his back. "Don't worry 'bout anything else."

Ford mewls as he feels himself getting close. "[Name]~!" He bites down on his lip as he squirts, his pussy convulsing around your cock. "Don'- don't stop~" He loves it when you overstimulate him. You stroke his t-dick and fuck him harder. His eyes practically roll to the back of his skull. Cute strings of "yes, yes" "oh god" "more" "i love you" leave Ford's saliva ridden lips. You're good at making him forget about his work and all his worries. The two of you know each other so well, he can tell you're about to come. "Inside~ come inside~" He begs. You're quick to fulfill his request and pump his pussy full of your seed.

bonus bc i randomly got the idea

cw: consensual somnophilia

Ford is sleeping peacefully on his bed and it's clear he fell asleep without bothering to remove any of his clothes. As you're taking off his jacket and pants, you start to get a little horny. You remove his sweater, leaving him in just an undershirt and boxers. You slowly trail your hand across his body. You feel bad for wanting to fuck him when he was working so hard only a few hours ago but it's not like he wouldn't want this. Feeling "drunk" while getting fucked is his favorite way to be fucked. Being used is his second favorite. So waking up while you're fucking him and feeling both sleepy and delirious is something he will never dislike.

You remove his underwear and spread his legs open. You kneel down in front of the bed and bury your face in his hairy pussy. You swirl your tongue around his dick before sucking on it.

It doesn't take very long to make him come, he's always sensitive. When you know what buttons to push, he'll turn into a blubbering mess within a few minutes.

"Mm.." Stanford slowly opens his eyes, instantly recognizing the feeling of your cock inside him. He grins drunkenly, looking at you with hazy vision. "Harder, [Name]~" He mumbles. The bedsheets are wet from how many times you made him come.

[adrealucia]

tags are stressing me tf out, why does the shit never appear in the tags 😤😤😤😤

TUMBLR DO SOMETHING !!!!

[rayne-the-neutrois-nerd]

Tfw you have the beginning and ending of your fic planned out pretty solidly but the entire is just "Julian does stuff and figures stuff out." and thats about it...

Like, I only know what he has to do in broad strokes and the fuckin details are driving me nuts omg.

Also theres a whole b-plot thing that is VERY IMPORTANT for Julians decisions at the end of the fic that I haven't touched on in my plot outline At All...

[full---ofstarlight]

OH MY GOD I GOT THE HTML TO WORK!!!!!!! HEHEHE

man ao3 skins rule

chapter 1 of my da2 band au involves an embarrassing skateboarding accident, inappropriate flirting at a clinic, and a whole lotta texts

read it here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and listen to this song to get you in the mood