#things that will never make it to ao3

[riacte]

Unconventional format / mixed media / meta / epistolary fic ideas:

Script format but the characters slowly break fourth wall until they grow self aware and scream to leave but the script confines them.

Mock up notes of an author's fic outline only for a "fan favourite" / "author's darling" character to gain sentience and influence the story. The character changes the outline to suit their own agenda, and their changes are marked with a different colour whereas black text means it's the author's will. Maybe another character using another colour gains sentience. The different colours fight for dominance. Mom says it's my turn with the keyboard hey what the fuck man excuse me I'm literally trying to save my family can you guys let go and let me write your character arcs in peace OH FUCK OFF

Recipe fic. The story is told via those unnecessarily long backstories on a recipe blog in which you learn about someone's grandma or a breakup or literally anything. Bonus points if the actual recipe deals with worldbuilding (what ingredients are available? What utensils are used? How to serve this meal? Woohoo Dungeon Meshi) or in-cheek recipes (eg. "Recipe for making up with your estranged mother - Step 1: Mix patience, nostalgia, and filial piety and let it marinate for ten years. Step 2: Throw that shit into the trash because you're better than that")

Travel fic. A character is lost and trying to find their way somewhere. GPS directions, googling "x place to x place", tickets and dates, train station maps, leaflets. It gets weirder and weirder. You never get closer to your destination. You're walking around in circles. It's always 10 meters away. Where are you going and where have you been?

Receipts. Try to infer what a character is doing judging from the weird things they buy together. Also yipppee inflation tracker. On the other side, maybe it can be about a cashier/ shop owner getting to know their customers and what they order.

Written from the pov of an non-native English speaker, all the English words are italicized whereas their native tongue are the only words not italicized. Inspired by Kupu rere kē by Alice Te Punga Somerville. This is because I got salty about people from Ao3 Reddit saying they won't read a fic in all italics.

Murder mystery / "Among Us" style impersonation fic strictly using the chatfic format. Characters and readers will have to figure out which character has been killed and replaced from the way they text and use emojis. This is also because I got salty about Ao3 Reddit being a wee bit pretentious about emoji usage in fics. Maybe emojis can be important plot devices! Some people prefer to sign off messages with a heart emoji of their signature colour, so won't it be weird if they use another coloured heart? How about someone using lapslock suddenly using proper capitalisation and full stops? Can you tell if someone's phone has been stolen? What if someone's mother is pretending to text like their child? Why is someone suddenly only using UwU speak? Is it a bit, or have they been replaced?

Innocuous second person POV until the last line where it's suddenly revealed to be first person POV all along and the "I" has been stalking and narrating "you".

Other fun bits / Easter eggs / secrets to hide:

Decoding within the text itself. Maybe we get given instructions to find a word in x chapter on page y on the nth line. And when we as readers collect all the words, they form a sentence that spells out an important fact which the characters are oblivious to. Or maybe the in-universe characters find a book with the same title as the irl fic with a bookmark in it, and if you go to where the bookmark is stuck irl, you'll find the murderer plainly stated. The rest of the fic is about the readers having hard confirmation of who the murderer is while characters don't know.

A phrase is subtly repeated throughout the text of the fic and is spelled out with the letter that begins a sentence. It gives off the effect that the narrator is screaming and crying into the void (to the readers in the fourth wall) while trying to avoid detection. Bonus points if the same word is repeated for pages and pages to the point the lack of sentence variation feels weird and clunky.

Morse code!! I love morse code! Using onomatopoeia to convey the dots and dashes! The sound of rain pattering on the tin rooftop— drop, drop, drop. A low whistle of a train rumbling in the distance. He slowly sharpens his knife, creating a shiiing sound. A lengthy, high pitched squeal from his kettle. A dog barks. A sharp knock. His heart thumps. Dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dot dot. SOS. Maybe a character's death scene spells out the name of their mysterious murderer. Maybe a character is reminiscing their deceased loved one and the scene spells out what the deceased person would've wanted to tell them— "LIVE ON" or "I LOVE YOU" or something.

[umblrspectrum]

updated some ref sheets and also actually made jcj one

[betty-fran]

If you're Starfleet, you spend your whole life wishing you never see an EPAS uniform right up until the moment they become your only hope. Whether you're dying a slow, cold death in space, or a long painful one on some godforsaken planet, they're going to come for you. So count your last breaths, son, and hold on tight. They leave no soul behind.

leave no soul behind - james t. kirk / s'chn t'gai spock playlist

I made this playlist while rereading LNSB for the second time, and I'm actually just going to write a separate post about how much I love this story, so this is purely and completely dedicated to Leave No Soul Behind by whochick at ao3/livejournal. This was my first Star Trek fanfic, and it's actually so well written that I can recommend it as a stand-alone story that's impossible not to fall in love with.

p.s. if you happen to know the author of the drawing I used for the collage, please write me, because I couldn't find any information, and this is honestly my favorite K/S art

[haveihitanerve]

When We Were Young

This was stupid. So stupid. Barbara couldn't believe she’d let Bruce convince her to join him at one of his Galas.

“I miss seeing you!” He’d pouted, complete with arms crossed, and puppy dog eyes. Unfortunately for her, Bruce’s puppy dog eyes were very good. And maybe she was just soft for him. He’d always managed to slip through her cracks without even meaning to. Much like his son.

Barbara scowled at her mental self, shoving the thoughts away. She was here for Bruce. And as much as she despised these events, he made them better. He would be worth it.

“Barbara,” A familiar voice purred, and Barbara couldn't help her smile, turning to look up at the man of the hour.

“Bruce.” She returned. He dipped low, grasping her hand delicately in his own, pressing the barest whisper of a kiss to the top.

“You look lovely.” He murmured, and there was a sparkle in his eyes that she had missed. That was maybe the reason she had said yes.

She laughed, dragging her hand from his, and rolled her eyes. It was good. Familiar. Simple. She liked life with Bruce like that. Life was simple with Bruce like that. Despite his… issues, Barbara had never found it hard understanding him. Maybe that was why they got along so well. Maybe that was why they didn't.

“I should make the rounds..” Bruce muttered with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Thank you for coming Babs. Truly. If you like, you can sneak out the back during my speech. I won’t mind.” And he wouldn’t. Babs knew that. It was why she smiled, nudging his side with her elbow.

“I’ll be here the whole night Brucie, don’t you worry about that. You’ll be sick of me!” His eyes flashed with gratitude and he stooped low, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Now I face the wolves!” He grinned, offering her a wink. “Wish me luck.”

“Luck-” The word died in her throat as Bruce descended the stairs, arms wide for the people who swarmed him, not yet having noticed the man who stood on the other side of the room, surveying the crowd.

No one had noticed him yet, and he hadn’t yet put his mask on because of it. Eyes tight, shoulders tense, he watched the people swarm his father, black hair styled away from his face in immaculate perfection, the way he hated, a suit pressed tightly around his body, accentuating every curve. Babs tongue turned leaden in her mouth.

Bruce finally noticed the newcomer, and his face lit up with joy, pushing through the crowd to greet him. Even from so far away, Barbara could hear the pure elation in his voice as he yelled “Dick!” so loud she was certain Joker heard it from Arkham.

The cameras and people immediately swarmed forward, and Dick’s mask fell into place, an easy smile crossing his face as people reached him before his father, offering pleasantries and mild conversation. Bruce pushed through the crowd, clapping his son on the back, and for a second Dick’s mask seemed to peel, a centimeter of true, raw happiness emerging as his father wrapped him in a hug, hand moving to tousle his hair into that achingly familiar smile.

Dick joked something Barbara couldn't lip read from so far, and Bruce laughed, wrapping an easy arm around his shoulders. Something heavy and sharp stabbed at Babs insides.

He… Bruce had known Dick was coming. And he hadn't told her. Hadn’t- had practically forced her to come.

Sharp, stinging betrayal prickled at Barbara's eyes, but she blinked them back, swallowing the lump in her throat with her last gulp of champagne. It was stupid to believe he’d have her back against his son. Stupid to think she even compared.

Dick’s eyes traced the crowd, chatting aimlessly with some girl in front of him, eyes darting around as they always did, seeking a friendly face, some pleasant conversation, an exit strategy. He would find none of them with her.

He smiled then, that all consuming smile that seemed to illuminate the entire world before focusing on one person, making them feel like they were the most important person in the whole world. She hadn’t felt it in years.

Babs spun on her wheels and left. 

Pt 2

[cowboy-robooty]

im not going to lie i have an illuminati type theory that fanfiction has gotten so fucking bad recently as yet another consequence of the pandemic

[cursedwithcaution]

everyone talks about the ao3 author curse (immense suffering) but what about the ao3 author blessing (people being nice to you)

[cypresswood3]

So I wrote that post about considering a rarepair and went straight to sleep because I'm a bastard like that.

So, uh... an au, I suppose? Crucify me.

Arthur Lester is... an interesting young man. Somehow, his inner turmoils seem to spill out without him saying much – it's in his movements, in his eyes, in this ever-so lost expression, like he's never truly there. Like he never truly knows who he is and what he wants. And when those truths start creeping up on him – and they do, on occasion, – he turns and runs and denies until they're suppressed and dormant in the back of his mind again.

Bella doesn't quite see that. No, she's got concerns of her own, she's young, she's looking straight ahead into the bright future in front of her. She doesn't have neither the experience nor the years to see it in him. And even if she had, she'd lack the familiarity to let her recognize it.

Arthur Lester keeps coming over for dinners. It's Bella's idea, he tries to convince himself, pretending that her eager agreement somehow had more weight than his hesitant propositions. "My father's a good man," she assures again and again, and he nods, hiding his trembling hands behind his back.

Daniel Saltzman might be a good man, Arthur thinks as he stares holes in the wooden crucifix on the wall above him, but I am certainly not.

And he never meets the eyes of the man he is soon to call his father, for he knows Daniel Saltzman would see right through him.

He knows his eagerness to please this man takes root in sin and sin alone. He knows it's not fear that makes him sweat and shiver while he's given stern looks and strict talks in Bella's absence. He knows she's equally absent in his thoughts when his to-be father-in-law gives him reluctant, unenthusiastic praise.

And he knows he can't forever pretend it's a father's love he years for.

[stellewriites]

A Helping Hand

throwing my hat in for @the-californicationist’s nameless challenge!

600+ words, sfw, gn!reader, no content warnings it’s all fluff. don’t forget to guess who you think it’s about 🤭

you first met in uni.

it was a couple of weeks in, so you were settled into your classes and confident with the subject matter so far. you’d made friends with your roommates and had checked out the area of the new city you were in. it was all going well.

your current class was in a lecture hall, though the discussion was nothing too important; just going over the reading syllabus for the year. they’d already emailed it out during the summer so you pretended to take notes on your laptop while pulling up wordle.

one of your new roommates had gotten you addicted, it had become a light-hearted competition between you both as you got to know each other before finally meeting in person. they’d finally upped the stakes at the start of the week with a bet and you were determined to beat their average by friday - after all, loser would be paying for drinks on saturday when you all went out.

this day’s puzzle, however, was stumping you. you didn’t want to just guess aimlessly, visions of free drinks seeming ever further away, but you just couldn’t figure out the word either.

F_ _ _R

you stared at the screen unblinkingly, thoroughly distracted from your course and the discussion around you until a hand holding a slip of paper appeared at your shoulder in your peripheral.

you took it hesitantly without looking back and unfolded it. you stared at the word written scratchily across it in disbelief.

FOYER.

fuck. how’d you miss that?

you typed it in and heard a satisfied chuckle behind you when it was correct and pursed your lips to hide your own smile. you figured you should thank the guy at least, he might’ve just won you free drinks after all.

you flicked your eyes up and found the professor busy facing the board and took the chance to swivel in your seat to look up at the one above yours and the handsome man that currently claimed it.

“thanks,” you whispered, your smile turning flirtatious and less guarded when you met his pretty eyes.

“don’t mention it,” he said with an easy shrug, his voice warm.

“oh? you don’t want a favour in return then?” you asked, coy. “you might’ve just won me a bet with a friend, so i owe you.”

his shoulders shook as he huffed. you realised it was a laugh, just muffled behind a surprisingly fond smile aimed your way and a want to keep quiet in the lecture hall. he was clearly charmed by you - and likely the view he had down your shirt as you leant forward against the back of your seat, equally enamoured.

“i could maybe think of some way you could thank me,” he acquiesced, smile turning sly. “better concentrate on the front of the class for now though.” he nodded forward.

with a look over your shoulder you noticed the unimpressed look your professor was sending you both. you sent them a contrite look as you sat back properly and stayed quiet for the rest of the lecture, not wanting to cause a fuss and make a name for yourself too early in the year. you did like this subject after all.

you just liked handsome, helpful men too.

you bit your lip in an attempt at calming your smile and the excited noise that bubbled at the back of your throat when you got a second note passed over your shoulder by a now-familiar hand not ten minutes later. you kept your eyes facing forwards as you took it, wanting to play it cool.

that went out the window however when you opened the note and felt giddiness override it.

coffee after this? it read, followed by his name and number.

absolutely, you thought.

[skippingseaglass]

if drawing silly goobers was a profession that paid i'd be racking it IN bay bee

[chibigikochin]

Just realised Hiccup and Jack Frost as a ship fall into the trope of double identity preternatural dude W white/pale hair obsessed with a normal dude that gets pulled into his bs because of it that's so common in Japanese media cuz of Ryokira from Devilman by Go Nagai.

You could basically make a hijack au of any piece of Japanese media that adopts the Ryokira relationship dynamic and they would fit.

I'm about to fall down a plotbunny hole I haven't gone down since I was 13.

[kris-mage-fics]

Wintersun

A short Shepherds of Haven fic that takes place on Wintersun. Some vague spoilers for Chapter 4 and Blade's 5th day off in the Alpha build. Also there's a reference to this bit of a fic I haven't finished, but it's not necessary to understand what's going on.

| Ao3 | rated G | 628 words | Blade/Kyrahlise | under the cut for very light spoilers mentioned above |

"Happy Wintersun," Kyrahlise said as she handed Blade a slim package not much larger than her hand. Neither of them acknowledged the momentary brush of their fingertips.

The gift was neatly wrapped in paper she'd painted with winter berries and small swirls of gold. All tied off with a thin green ribbon salvaged from one of her old dresses. The design was overly flashy for his taste, but she had been too focused on making it pretty and was short on time to repaint something more austere.

Blade raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. "You didn't need to," he said, yet she could've sworn his face softened as his eyes traced the designs on the paper.

Kyrah smiled having anticipated he'd say something along those lines. "I'm aware. But I wanted to and thought you might enjoy it."

He looked up from the gift to meet her eyes. "Did you paint this?" Of course he remembered she painted. While in The Reach he'd fussed at her plenty to not paint outside. He trusted her judgment enough to promote her to Captain after a month, yet the cold was somehow too much. He made absolutely no sense.

"Yes," she said in a light tone.

"It's nice." Did Blade's compliment make her feel happy in a way it probably shouldn't? Yes. But she'd take that to her grave before admitting it to anyone.

"Thank you, though I hope you like what's inside more."

Blade's eyes went back to the present he held delicately. She ignored the strange little feeling in her chest when he untied the ribbon and slipped it into a pocket before carefully unfolding the paper. Underneath was a small book of poetry. "You remembered, thank you."

An unusual wave of nerves washed over Kyrahlise. What if he'd read this collection before and hated it? Well, there was no use worrying about it now that the book was in his hands. "Yes, by one of my favorite contemporary poets. Are you familiar with her work?"

"I'm not."

Her smile was tinted with relief. "I hope you find her poetry to your taste."

There was a upward tilt to his lips as he nodded. Kyrah gathered he was thanking her again, but reading his subtle expressions was like cracking a code.

Not that she needed to decipher anything to understand Blade's kindness. He'd always been considerate and respectful towards her. A sharp contrast to how many Norms treated her after she left the Circle. Like when he'd been livid because of what happened in that damned cave, it had filled her with so much warmth. She'd almost forgotten what it was like to have anyone care about her well-being. It was the catalyst for certain feelings towards him being stirred up. Feelings she accepted existed then politely ignored.

Though a recent incident in his room made her question if Blade was really as indifferent to her as he so often appeared.

When Kyrahlise glanced back up at Blade, his eyes were so gentle as they met hers it brought an instinctive smile to her lips. The first time he looked at her like that was when she learned black was the warmest color of all. The way his gaze slowly traced over her face almost felt like a sweet caress that seemed to stop briefly at her lips. But she was likely imagining things again.

A slight frown passed over his face as his free hand twitched, then clenched against his side. He looked at her another moment, gave a hint of a nod and another quick 'thank you' before turning and walking away. When he was out of earshot she sighed. Maybe one day she'd figure out what was really going on inside that inscrutable head of his.

[steelycunt]

that lancali girl who keeps popping up on my social media talking about what a successful poetic writer she is and then she shares something she’s written and every time with no exception it is one of the worst most embarrassing pieces of literature ive ever read like the cringiest purple prose you can imagine and everyone in the comments is talking about how it’s history-making and the most be beautiful thing they’ve ever read..and yes i do blame taylor swift for this

[daughterofsarenrae]

The Characters are pieces of lettuce and my brain is a salad spinner

[remythologise]

the absolute agony of being hyperfixated on a video game where you can't read post-canon fic or search a damn thing on fandom tags before going through like 100 hours of it because of spoilers.

[goodomensao3tagoftheday]

[jcryptid]

Heh... wouldn't it be fun to draw some slightly more detailed fanart for Keiko and-- oH gOD! OH FUCK!

@whatweoughttosay