14. (For authors) Post a line of dialogue from one of your WIPs without context.
“I can’t believe we just had sex on my couch without actually talking things out first.”
“Really?” Michael asks incredulously. “You can’t believe that?”
17. Describe a fic that is still in the ‘ideas’ stage.
Another Michael Sanders one from Walt’s perspective where he adopts Michael.
Sanders is working on a car when someone mentions the news about the three kids found wandering the desert. Sanders blows the guy off and drives to the turquoise mines, finds the pods empty. He goes to the group home afterward, tries to adopt Michael, but they won’t let him take him because he’s a gin-soaked junkyard dog.
It takes two years for him to get his act cleaned up enough to meet their standards. Two years of working overtime, two years of AA meetings, two years of watching Michael try not to cry when he leaves after the monthly visitations the group home let him arrange. But when he shows Michael to his new bedroom and sees that wobbly, disbelieving smile on his face, Sanders knows it was all worth it. Michael is worth it.
19. What’s your favorite character headcanon?
Okay so this one is a headcanon that I had for my Michael Sanders AU, but it works for canon Michael too:
Michael had a severe and inexplicable fear of thunderstorms as a child. He still doesn’t like them—he’ll snuggle closer to Alex on particularly bad nights—but he isn’t reduced to a whimpering mess anymore (The pod took his memories, but not his fear of the kind of lightning Max (and others?) can do)
Sighs at where I am in the TL for Scars…
this couple of weeks I’m looking at it GONNA BE SO HARD TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO FIC.
14. (For authors) Post a line of dialogue from one of your WIPs without context.
“Very funny,” Cameron deadpans. “You fuck him yet?”
15. Post the last line you wrote without context.
Michael beams at him, his eyes going soft and intense the way they always do when they’re wrapped up in each other like this.
17. Describe a fic that is still in the ‘ideas’ stage.
(under a cut for smut reasons)
Fictober Day 25
Prompt: “Give me that”
Tagging: @xffictober @fictober-event @today-in-fic
For @midwest-cryptid , thank you for the endless encouragement + being you
Word count | Emily AU | Mulder + Emily | MSR | S6E10: Tithonus | pg
“Emily Scully is being picked up.”
The curious young girl pipes her head up at the sound of her name, eyes darting back and forth between her teacher and the school principal who are talking quietly in the doorway of her classroom. Judging by the serious looks on their faces, she realizes that perhaps her enthusiasm is misplaced. Her teacher motions for her to grab her things and she gets up from her seat, leaving her colored pencils on the table and going to grab her lunchbox and backpack before walking to the door.
“Emily, do you have all of your things, sweetheart?”
“Yep!” She waves her lunchbox in the air eagerly for proof, earning small smiles from both of the older women.
“Looks like you’re all set, then.”
Emily takes the principal’s hand, counting the tiles on the floor as they make their way down the hall to the front office. She doesn’t ask any questions, figuring her mother will be able to provide more answers than her principal could. She watches as her feet step off of the tile floor and onto a carpeted one, shuffling forward until they nearly step on two enormous feet, she notes, clad in black dress shoes. Puzzled, her eyes shoot upward, glimmering with renewed enthusiasm as she realizes who the absurdly large feet belong to.
“Mulder!!” She exclaims, bouncing up and down energetically, letting go of the principal’s hand and extending her small arms up toward Mulder, in hopes that he will pick her up.
“Hey, you. Are you all ready to go?” He asks, lifting her up into his arms, giving her a little smile as her arms circle his neck.
“Sure am, Mulder! Where are we going? Mulder, why are you crying?” She asks worriedly, touching a spot on his cheek where a single tear had fallen.
“How about we go get some lunch and then I’ll fill you in?”
Summary: Ravus is jealous of Gladio.
Notes: Something I should have clarified at the beginning of this series: in my head, Ravus and Ignis got together when they were 30 and 24, respectively. In this fic, they’re 26 and 32, and have been living together for 2 years.
And this fic takes place around a year after the last part…which is unfinished, so there’s a sort of time skip here. I cheat because I wanted to write fluff, I’m sorry XD The unfinished angst will have to wait.
TW for alcohol, but not much apart from that.
The last straw was when Ravus heard that Ignis was going out for drinks with Gladiolus Amicitia.
The one friend whom Ravus didn’t like Ignis hanging out with alone.
So he put his foot down.
“I’m sorry?” Ignis blinked. “I’m ‘not allowed’ to see an old friend?”
“Alone,” Ravus quickly clarified. “You’re not allowed alone.”
(He didn’t seem to understand that the problematic word in the original statement was, in fact, “allowed.”)
“And why is that, pray tell?” Ignis challenged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you worried he’s going to slip something into my drink?”
…Well, I wasn’t earlier, but I am now, Ravus bit back.
“It’s – “ He stepped closer to Ignis, deliberately not meeting his gaze. “It’s difficult to explain.”
He only said this, because he was aware that I don’t like the familiar way he looks at you, or the easy way with which you and he trade banter, or the way he’s so physically at ease with you - something knots in my stomach and alarm bells ring inside my head would have sounded very, very awkward in this context.
and now for something completely different…
Summary: Hermione’s not going to let her sex life suffer if there’s something she can do about it. Luckily, after a few false starts, Ron’s on board. Harry is no help. At least his boyfriend has something useful to contribute.
Tags: ron/hermione, background drarry, shopping for sex toys with draco malfoy, pegging
The fact of the matter is, their sex life has gotten stagnant, and Hermione worries that if it goes on for much longer, it’s going to hurt their relationship as a whole.
So, she puts together a plan. She writes up lists of suggestions. She comes up with arguments, and counterarguments, and a closing statement. She’s ready.
And then when she sits Ron down to talk to him about it, he turns as red as his hair and flees when she’s not even halfway through her first list (Sexual Kinks to Explore—Please Check Y or N).
day twenty-two || day twenty-four
As you might have noticed, I haven’t posted anything for two days now. I’m with plan to post tomorrow the fic for day 23 and possibly day 24 (depends when my beta gets to read it).
I just finished the fic for day 24 at 18.2k words which is now my longest one shot and Whumptober story.
I also will definitely do my best to finish writing all fics till day 31, I have outlines and some ideas, so it will definitely happen, I just have to backtrack a bit.
I finally finished the monster fic. Hopefully the rest won’t have to be wrangled more than necessary.
(coming in just under the wire as this prompt gave me fits, so here’s another double drabble)
Day 24: Serendipity (In Other Lands)
It’s irritating when Luke pushes Elliot behind him during a raid.
He’s indignant when the tree branch he’s sitting on breaks and it’s Luke, of all people, who breaks Elliot’s fall.
Elliot chalks it up to bad luck when he comes over the wall only to run into Luke skulking around on the other side. He supposes it’s easier to find the Sunborn estate with his own personal guide.
He’s just about had it the time Luke barrels into the burning library and knocks Elliot into the far corner, just before the beam comes crashing down.
“How are you always underfoot?” Elliot grumbles. “I can’t seem to shake you off. I have the worst luck.”
It’s when Luke plucks him from the battlefield and flies him to the safety of the trees that Elliot finally puts it all together, shaking his head at his own obliviousness.
“It’s not dumb luck, is it?” Elliot asks him, as he pushes a lock of hair away from Luke’s forehead.
“Or chance,” he continues, hand stroking down Luke’s arm until their fingers interlock. “Or any magical serendipity.”
Their lips brush.
Luke shakes his head. “I always know where to find you, Elliot,” he says.
Prompt number:24-Are you kidding me?
“Please, Kite." Astral said. "I understand that you don’t like big parties-”
“That’s an understatement." Kite said. "A big party with Yuma and all of his annoying crew?" Kite scoffed. "Are you kidding me?”
Astral sighed. “You could have fun.”
“We both know that’s not true.”
Astral was reluctantly forced to agree. Kite had never been the most sociable of people. “But…" Astral swallowed. "I wish to go for Yuma, Kite. And I would…quite like your company there If you are willing." Kite looked up at those words and then he sighed himself.
"Fine." It was worth it, Kite thought, for the smile that broke across Astral’s face. Not that he would ever admit it.
He didn’t need to. Astral already knew.
SpeedyI am SUPER belated on replying to this, ended up sick and forgot my inbox entirely when I slumped back onto tumblr.
ALL comments are great, and some of my fave shorter ones have been folks speculating through the story as I posted, especially about what would happen next, and honestly any time someone says I made them cry, I get a little gleeful because that is a HELL of a compliment.
But my absolute favourite comments are the essays folks have written me, where they tell me the blow by blow of their thoughts, or their favourite scenes, or fave lines. Those comments are something I kept open in a second window and reread any time I got stuck or lost momentum while I was writing CC, and have been going back to while writing part 2.
ALL comments are valid, from hearts to keyboard smashing to the essays, especially because I know not a lot of folks can do the latter - I almost never can - but for sure those are my fave to receive.
Some examples (I haven’t replied to everyone at time of posting this, I am sloooowly making my way through comments!)
Also bookmarks are like secret comments, and I have some there that made me dance in the middle of a grocery store aisle, but also the amount of people who admit to avoiding studying or sleeping while reading CC makes me both proud and slightly worried for them. XD
Thanks for the question and I hope you get some awesome comments to look on for yourself!
For @racketghost’s 13 days of Halloween! Day 6: Costumes
“Angel! Hurry up, or we’ll be late!” Crowley called over his shoulder, briefly looking away from the mirror in the entry hall.
“Just another moment, darling!” Aziraphale’s voice came from their bedroom.
Crowley rolled his eyes. His angel has been saying that for the last fifteen minutes. He huffed and turned back to the mirror hanging on the wall and adjusted the tartan bowtie he was wearing.
Anathema was hosting a Halloween party at her place and the Them had insisted they all dress up for the occasion. Aziraphale and Crowley would be going dressed as each other; Aziraphale’s idea. Crowley had to admit, though, he was rather enjoying this. He pulled the lapel of Aziraphale’s jacket up to his nose and breathed deep, smelling the familiar and well loved scents of old paper, cocoa, Aziraphale’s favorite cologne, and just a hint of ozone. It was so big on Crowley’s slender frame. It wearing it was like wearing an angelic hug.
The coat and bowtie were real, but the rest of his getup was a miracled duplicate of Aziraphale’s usual attire. The angel would have rioted if Crowley had changed Aziraphale’s real clothes to fit him. And really he was already drowning in this coat. Not that he was complaining.
He looked at his watch and groaned. If they didn’t leave soon they really would be late. Crowley turned away from the mirror and headed toward their bedroom. “Angel what are you doing? I know the pants are a tight fit, but you can just miracle them bigger. Or you could just ask me for hel-” The demon’s voice died in his throat and his jaw dropped when he opened the door and saw Aziraphale.
Aziraphale wasn’t wearing Crowley’s clothes, instead he was wearing a tight fitting black dress that hugged all of this soft curves and came only halfway down his thighs. There were equally tight leggings that stopped just an inch below the dress, leaving a narrow strip of bare skin between them, which really shouldn’t be so arousing. And yet….
There was a cheesy red demon tail clipped to the back of the dress and a matching pair of horns attached to a headband resting in Aziraphale’s curls. The angel was standing in front of their vanity, applying blood red lipstick.
It took several tries for Crowley to get his voice to work and his mouth was suddenly dry. “Uh…. those aren’t my clothes.”
Aziraphale look at Crowley in the mirror, a smile playing at his newly red lips. “Of course not, love. I picked this up just for the occasion.”
“I… eh.. ngk.”
Aziraphale turned to face him fully and bless it all. That dress. Those curves. Those thighs. Crowley could feel his cheeks heat and was fairly sure his hair smoking.
“Do you like it darling? I’m dressed as the Original Tempter. I don’t have any your wiley charms, so I did a little something extra.” As if he ever had to try hard to tempt Crowley.
“Hhhhh..” said the Original Tempter, with all of his wiley charms.
The devilish angel continued, as if his husband wasn’t on the verge of discorperating from arousal alone. “Oh, but don’t you look dashing, darling. I must say, tartan looks rather fetching on you.” He leaned back against the vanity, in almost an artful sprawl (where did he learn that?), and in such a way that made the dress move up those deliciously thick thighs the tiniest bit.
Crowley shook himself, finally able to move from where his feet had anchored to the floor. “L-like it? Do I like it??” He stepped closer to his husband, eyes shamelessly racking over his body. “You.. Beautiful… Radiant…. Deliciousssss…” With each word he moved a step closer until he pushed his chest flush against Aziraphale’s, pressing him back against the vanity. “Bastard of and angel, look ready to be devoured.”
Aziraphale opened his mouth, probably to say something teasing and snarky, but Crowley dove in and kissed him before a sound could escape. He kissed Aziraphale until they were both breathless.
“Didn’t you say we were going to be late?” Aziraphale panted, smirking and not looking the slightest bit sorry. His lipstick was smeared, and Crowley was vaguely aware that it was staining his lips now too.
Crowley leaned in once more and muttered against Aziraphale’s lips, “We can be fashionably late.”
it’s been eight years since I posted we’ve written volumes and i won’t like, speak to the quality of it because my wife banned me from rereading my own work because i get really mean and want to pull everything down because i’m a terrible critic of my own creations, but i just want to say how happy that story makes me every single day, literally, because even now, EIGHT YEARS after i posted it, i get kudos on it. every day. every! single! day!
i got a little weird and maudlin about my writing this week and i was thinking about this story today and how it was the first thing i made after moving to a new state, thousands of miles from everything familiar to me, the first thing i ever posted to ao3, the first thing i’d created for fandom in, god, three or four years? longer, maybe? the first thing of any length i’d written since I finished the book i wrote for my mfa thesis
and every day i get a kudos email
every single day!
and i got those emails through the depression of living somewhere i didn’t want to be and the realization that i probably would for a long time and the depression of being an over-degreed adult without prospects and the depression of having a fucked-up brain chemistry and through my cancer diagnosis and treatment and getting a job and through my wedding planning and turning thirty – an age i never thought i’d live to see – and getting married and buying a house and the deaths of my remaining grandparents and family emergencies and the development of an entire life i never imagined and and and
and every day that email was thrilling, IS thrilling, a little light in the dark
stats are largely meaningless – good stories go un-loved and “bad” stories get popular and all of it means nothing, really – but almost 22,000 people have liked my idiotic story enough to give it a fucking kudos!! the feeling that inspires in me… i may never manage to publish a book because i’m an unambitious dipshit, but i’ve given more than 20,000 people an okay time. that’s fucking. amazing.
ANYWAY, my point is: thank you for every kudos and every comment and every hit. on every story, in every fandom. thank you for interacting with me wherever you do. thank you for lurking. thanks for all of it. i hope i manage to bring you a little joy again and soon.
Ack, fell ill and missed my inbox entirely, sorry for the delayed response on this!!
Izuku didn’t get his memories back but rather his name, so he still can’t see purple. :D
My goodness THANK YOU! I’m really proud of that story and how I crafted it, between the world building and character interactions so having those especially called out is really meaningful! I’m slowly working on the next part but everyone’s feedback has been so kind and a great motivator every time I get stuck. I hope you have a wonderful night, thank you!