#i tried looking for fics on A03 and I can't find a single finished one

[galaxythedragonshifter]

YESS SOMEONE SAID IT!!

fuck this, if hvitur has a million fans I'm one of them, of hvitur has 10 fans I'm one of them. if hvitur has 1 fan then I am that fan. if the world is against hvitur I'm against the world fuck all of you and fuck tui

I KNOW hvitur dies in the prologue but HE IS THE ONLY ICEWING IN THE TALONS OF PEACE (not including cirrus or pyrite) AND I WANNA KNOW THE STORY

hvitur is cool fuck u

[look-i-love-u]

Tag Game Wednesday

Gone full week and arrived at Wednesday again. Oops.

This is totally last week's one.

thank you for tagging me: @vintagelacerosette, @jrooc, @shippergirl121fic, @energievie, @ian-galagher, @blue-disco-lights @michellemisfit

Name and A03 handle: Vey, miss_snowwhitepink

Current Location: on the couch, sipping water, trying to get better hydrated

Favourite picrew:

What's one thing you want in a picrew? more body types, more fantasy, more pets

Favourite thing you’ve created (or seen created) for the fandom?

Fuck-U-Up Mug

Why is it your favourite?

Painted this mug for the first gallacrafts theme and I still love it and use it almost daily. It's still looking as good as day one. And it made me write a little one-shot to go with

Did it come easily or was it hard to create?

It was the first time I tried to draw a lily. So that was a bit of an adventure. The baking of the mug to fix the colour was a bit nerve-wrecking too as I feared it would break in the oven. But it all worked out just fine :)

Last ao3 fic you commented on? It's been a while since I read ffs. I've been on a "sports guys hooking up and finding love" binge read lately, so I've read about ten books or so in the last few months and not a single ff. O.o

The last comment I wrote that got a reply was Evie's "When you say nothing at all"

Biggest WIP heartache you’ve ever experienced? I don't really read WIPs since my early fandom days and getting burned by them. But that's about half my lifetime ago and I can't remember a specific story.

So I'll say all the WIPs in my doc drafts and especially the three collabs that I was super excited about my writing partner(s) weren't and they never even took off or got abandoned quite early on.

Favourite trope or head cannon you like included in a fanfic?

Oh, so many! Any and all AUs - as I love to see them find each other in every universe.

Soulmate!Aus especially. Hurt/Comfort. Pining! Long burn! Yes! Give me all the delayed gratification and the good stomach tingles from it!

Least favourite? Break-Up/Second chance fics, probably. I'm all about them getting together the first time and then hopefully living their happily ever after.

Also sick!fics and character deaths. Real life got enough of that. I don't want to read it in my escape media as well.

Secret or surprising kink or trope?

From hand holding to monsterfuckery - I'm a pretty open book when it comes to my kinks, I think. No secrets to uncover here.

Describe how you feel after you’ve created something new?

Elated. Happy. Nervously excited. Eager to share it.

Top hype man you have that always helps you get across the finish line:

Time pressure and a sense of responsibility.

Works for my work writing, works for fun writing. It's also probably the only reason I still remember to write a Galladrabble each week. XD

And getting a good response to what I did. Serotonine works wonders for my motivation and creativity.

It's been a bad day, you turn to the fandom and you _____? Scroll through tumblr. Look at amazing pretty art and send my faves to people who I know share my love for it.

[gideongrace]

There's a word for it. That's all Billy can think. There's a word for this feeling - he read it in a book once… it'd been such a weird word, he'd had to look it up…

That's all he can do when he finds Steve lying in the alley, covered in blood. Stand stock still like a complete and total fucking moron, thinking about how there's a word for everything, including the feeling of not being able to stop noticing the beating of your own heart. Like that's what fucking matters right now.

He takes a cautious step forward and hears the soles of his boots crunch wetly against the pavement, echoing in that unnervingly loud way every sound always does in a small town the instant the sun goes down and the lights go off. 

"Steve?" he says quietly, his own voice coming out sounding raspy and thin. Afraid. Like he's so afraid he's not even feeling it, rather only hearing it like it's an afterthought, a reverberation, something coming from somewhere other than himself. 

And Steve… he doesn't even say anything in response. He just grunts and barely manages to lift and turn his head to look over at the source of the noise, not that Billy's even sure Steve knows it's him, what with the way the eye Steve's turning towards him is practically swollen shut. 

And Billy, well, he knows a little something about bruises so he knows that in about a day or two Steve's going to have an awful one with big, fat, splotchy, ugly patches of purple running all up and down the side of his face; right now though, the damage is fresh enough that it's only swelled up his face like a balloon from chin to eye rather swelling it up like a balloon in addition to making it discolored as well.

But, then… that's just the bruises. Like all of this is happening and here Billy is focusing on the bruises.

"Hey, what…" The words ghost from Billy's lips as he moves towards Steve. He feels like he's trapped in one of those old zombie movies, one of the black and white ones made by George Romero, only like he's one of the zombies, instead of one of the heroes because there's nothing heroic about the slow, sad, shuffling steps he's taking towards Steve. 

Not that he can seem to move any faster, no matter how hard he tries and boy, has he tried. He's done everything he can think of up to and including threatening his own feet to move faster, listing off several different things he could do to them if they don't get their shit together and get him to Steve but it's doing him no good. He's forced to watch and to catalogue Steve's every wound and cut and bruise as his feet drag him forward inch by cursed inch as slow as the living dead. Slower, maybe.

And Billy certainly feels like he's about to die, what with the way every part of him is shaking inside and out, what with the way his whole body is drenched in a cold sweat he would swear wasn't there a minute ago and the way he feels like he's sucking in water rather than air. 

He can't even finish saying, "Hey, what happened? Who did this?" 

He feels like he's losing track of his words, losing track of his thoughts, and then in the second between one blink and the next, he does and all he can see is Steve lying there before him, staring up with his one good eye, his chest heaving with the effort every single breath is costing him.

"Steve… I…" Billy whispers as he sinks to his knees in front of him. "What…" He drags Steve up into his lap by the shoulders and Steve's face pinches and twists, his eyes clench shut so hard even the swollen one shudders and his breathing goes as sharp and as ragged as if he'd just run a mile for the first time in a year. 

Billy sits and helplessly counts his thundering heartbeats as he waits for Steve's breathing to stop rattling through him like a freight train has decided to up and lay tracks across his chest.

But it doesn't happen.

Instead, it just gets worse and worse and worse and Steve opens up his one good eye to stare at him, wordlessly pleading, begging, not for Billy to stay, no, Billy's stared at this face long enough to be able to read it even when Steve can't speak and right now, he isn't saying help me, he isn't saying why didn't you save me, he isn't even saying I love you, no, what Steve is saying right now, what Steve is shouting even with just this one look, is run. Go. Get out of here.

Which is fucking ridiculous and has the exact opposite effect of its intent, has Billy clinging to Steve's shoulders and saying, "No, fuck that, I'm not going anywhere." 

Steve's rapid breathing switches tracks to become a wracking cough that has his whole body shaking and has Billy running his hands down Steve's body like if he could maybe just find the source of all this, find the worst of the injuries, if he could just find it he could… he could...

He could what? They're sitting in an alley in the middle of Hawkins in the middle of the night and all Billy's got on him is his car keys, his smokes and his lighter and all his frantic searching gets him is hands that come away bloody.

"I… we have to…" Billy fumbles. He has to get Steve out of here, he has to… hospitals don't close, right? They don't, so - 

He starts to get to his feet, his knees grunting in protest after having sat on them in that awkward position for so long and he starts dragging Steve up with him, but Steve uses what little strength he has left to smack at his arm, telling him no, telling him to leave it. And he's still coughing, too, his whole body lurching with it; he's coughing so hard it makes Billy feel like he's the one coughing, like he's the one… the one…

Dying.

No. This isn't -

Steve can't.

He can't - 

Steve has blood on his lips. He's coughing so hard there's blood on his lips, flecks at first, then a flood, like the few drops of rain that hit before a torrential downpour.

"I'm getting you out of here," Billy snarls, overcome by more rage than he thinks he's ever felt. Because how dare he, they have a life together, they have a home together, how dare he - 

Steve, with the very last of his energy, the last of his life, raises a now ghostly pale hand towards the mouth of the alley and Billy smells it before he sees anything. 

Iron. The air suddenly tastes of iron. Iron and copper and blood. So much blood. 

Then he follows Steve's hand with his eyes and just before it falls, Billy sees something.

There, in the shadows at the mouth of the alley is something big and huge and deathly silent. Something with big, yellow eyes that glow in the dark. Eyes that hunger for - 

Before Billy has a chance to think of what, he hears Steve go silent, feels him slump against his chest, feels the wracking, rapid, freight train in motion of his breathing slow to a crawl then stop dead in its tracks. 

The monster howls and Billy doesn't bother to look at it. If Steve is gone, then - 

If Steve is gone, then - 

Billy wakes up with a scream tearing itself from his throat and his heart pounding in his chest. 

He blinks, he takes a breath and he looks over to Steve's side of the bed, hoping for, needing the reassurance seeing that beautiful face lit up by moonlight always gives him but -

Steve's side of the bed is empty. 

--there's more horror ficlets by a bunch of fic writers on a03 in the horrorscopes collection---