What I Find Really Odd About Fanfic In General Is That You Can Almost Tell What Kind Of A Person Is Writing

Reblog if you are a fanfiction author and would like your readers to put one of your fic titles in your ask + questions about it

me having a new idea for a relatively short fic:

Perhaps…a sick fic?

Hello darling!! Just for you <3

Sevika was… horrible when she was sick. 

Meaning when the woman got sick, she simply - pretended she was not sick. She didn’t have a fever, she didn’t see two of whoever was in front of her, she wasn’t puking, she wasn’t coughing. None of it. Because, as she continues to try and convince herself over her many years of life, if you ignored it then it wasn’t there. 

“I think you’re sick, Sev,” Vi says worriedly, on the morning Sevika wakes up feeling like hell frozen over. 

Stuffy nose. Sore throat. Bleary eyes, the throbbing promise of a migraine - and her skin hurt. Clearly there was only one answer to this. 

“It’s just allergies,” Sevika says. Nevermind the fact it comes out aller-geese because of her stuffy nose. Due to the allergies. Obviously. 

Vi’s eyebrows shoot up. She reaches out to press her hand to Sevika’s forehead, and Sevika ducks away. 

“Sevika,” Vi starts, her voice chastising, falling into the familiar I’m-An-Older-Sister tone that had worked on her little sister many years ago. 

“Vi,” Sevika says, in her I’m-Silco’s-Right-Hand voice she used to this day, except more nasally. Because of the allergies. 

Vi crosses her arms over her chest, and Sevika can feel her irritated gaze as she shuffles around the room at a snails pace, getting ready for her day. She pointedly does not look at Vi. 

“You should stay home,” Vi was following her around the house as she ignores the pressure building in her temples and tries to pull things together for her day. 

“No.” Sevika grunts, then coughs a little. “S’just allergies.”

“Baby,” Vi pulls out that sweet voice that always got Sevika, and she squints, looking back at… two Violets. 

“Stop it.” She says to the one flickering in her vision, then ambles away to pull her shoes on. For some reason (the allergies), it knocks the wind right out of her. She braces a hand on the wall, panting softly, then straightens up immediately when Vi rounds the corner with an accusing glare. 

“Sevika,” Vi says, sharply, and Sevika grabs her things and walks right out the door. 

“Silco’s gonna send you right home!” Vi yells after her from the doorway. 

Sevika waves a hand. “It’s just allergies!”

***

The allergies get so much worse. 

So much so, it has Silco casting worried looks at his right hand every so often. 

“Stop it,” she tells him, with as much irritation as she had given Vi. “It’s just allergies.”

“Allergies do not usually constitute a fever, Sevika.” Silco frowns. 

“I do not have a fever.” Sevika grunts, then hacks a little into her fist. 

Silco pulls a face. “Sevika.”

Sevika ignores Silco and instead goes to find something else to do that didn’t include being lectured over allergies, of all things. She wasn’t sick. 

Unfortunately for her, Silco comes to find her a little while later, expression pinched. 

“Go home,” he tells her. 

Sevika glowers at the task she was completing, pretending not to hear him. It wasn’t really that hard, considering one of her ears was plugged. 

“Sevika, go home.”

“You sound like Vi,” she grumbles at him, petulant, feeling suddenly very whiny. “I don’t want to go home.”

Silco’s eyebrows shoot up. “Okay. Well. I don’t want everyone getting sick. So you have the next two days off. Don’t come back until you’re better.”

Sevika lifts her head to glare in his… approximate direction. “I’m not sick.”

“Sure. Fine. Go home, Sevika. Take care of your… allergies. Then you can come back.”

Sevika goes back to what she was doing, pretending not to hear him. 

Silco taps his foot. “Do not make me call Violet.”

Sevika drops what she’s doing with a loud, petulant sigh, and breaks into a coughing fit. 

…Maybe she should go home.

***

When Sevika trudges in the door, she’s greeted with the smell of soup and the sound of soft music. She blinks tiredly, then bends to tug her shoes off, smacking her elbow on the wall with a whiny grunt.

“Sev? Is that you?” Vi pokes her head around the corner, then softens. “Hey, baby… you okay?”

“Silco sent me home,” Sevika was pouting.

Vi softens, amusement dancing in her eyes. She steps over, crouching to tug off her boots, one at a time. She sets them aside and stands, reaching up to check Sevika’s temp. “Hm. That bastard. Come sit, babe.”

“Bastard…” Sevika mutters in agreement, sniffing thickly and letting Vi take her hand. 

She’s led to the living room, where Vi had made up the couch into something Sevika was convinced was maybe a slice of heaven. Warm blankets, a million pillows, a box of tissues, a spot for Vi to sit and play with her hair. 

“Wow,” she breathes, eyes wide. “All this for allergies?”

Vi was fighting a laugh. “I - yes. Yes. Sit, Sev, let me get you some soup. And some medicine.”

“Okay,” Sevika sighs, nearly falling into the little nest that had been made for her, snuggling in with a soft groan. Her skin sings a little at the comfort of it all. She’s dozing by the time Vi returns with a cup of hearty soup. 

Vi doesn’t even bat an eye, though; she sits and props Sevika up against her, pillows supporting her back and neck. “Here, medicine first. Tastes bad, sorry babe.”

Sevika wrinkles her nose, but dutifully swallows what she’d been given. Her throat was even more sore now. The soup feels amazing on it, though, and she eats everything Vi offers her. Vi makes sure she’s comfy before she tugs the blankets up around her, fingers slipping through her hair gently. 

Sevika melts into it, closing her eyes and sniffing thickly. “Hey, Vi?” She mumbles when she’s on the verge of a doze.

“Mm?” Vi’s fingers brush over sore temples, soothing. 

“I think I’m sick.” Sevika mumbles, already slipping into sleep. 

“Oh wow,” Vi’s laughter echoes in her voice as she tries to stifle it to not wake her. “Really?”

“Yeah…” Sevika’s sigh is punctuated with a soft whine. 

“I’ll take care of you, baby. You rest.” 

“Mm’okay. Thanks…” Sevika mumbles as she finally gives in to what was, most definitely, not allergies.

“Nope,” I whisper as I exit out of a fic with no paragraph breaks.

Shiro makes Allura a new crown!

So many Shallura requests! :0 it’s like you guys know I need the practice.

***

It was really odd seeing Allura, the Princess herself, without a crown. She had been kind enough to, yet again, save his life and take the Altean crystal from her crown and embed it in the new arm the Garrison had tried to give him.

Each time he saw her without it, he felt a pang of guilt. She had already lost so much. He hadn’t meant to take more from her, even if she had done it out of the kindness of her heart. The simple gold band that rested on her brow looked so… Empty. Shiro had the odd need to fill that space.

Besides, they were on his home planet. There were stones he could find to replace the one she had given him, even if they didn’t have magical properties. That was going to be difficult, considering the complete destruction of most of the world - but he would manage.

After consulting Pidge and Lance - Lance for advice about style and gemstone, Pidge for her expertise to track things down - Shiro set off with what was left of the savings account he had left behind to meet with an underground gem trader.

It reminded him of a drug deal, the way they met up in an abandoned place. At least everyone knew who he was. If someone did put up a fight, he was able to capacitate them. Also that was just a dick move, to attack the guy who was paying a couple thousand dollars for a gemstone in the collapsing world.

The gem he bought was a moonstone, fit to the exact measurements of her crown. Sneaking it away had been a feat in itself, but Coran had helped after he had figured out what Shiro had wanted. Of course, not after a lecture about honesty and some reminiscing about a time where he and King Alfor had done something similar…

The man he had met for the gemstone was kind enough to set the stone into the crown. Shiro definitely thought it was well worth the money he spent to have it fixed up - and the guy was actually really nice.

***

“Shiro?” Allura looks up as he walks into the room, a frown pinching her brow. “There you are. Have you seen my tiara? I set it down a little while ago and I haven’t found it yet…”

“Oh,” the Paladin says sheepishly, his hands behind his back. “I, uh. Actually, I have something for you.”

“You do?” The Princess straightens, tucking a loose strand of hair that had slipped from her careful bun behind her ear.

Shiro shifts on his feet, mildly embarrassed and definitely nervous. He brings his hands out from behind his back, holding up the tiara guiltily. “So I stole your tiara because you gave me your stone and I wanted to make it up to you, and I know the stone isn’t magic but - it’s a moonstone! Not… from the moon, but I thought you’d appreciate it because it’s blue and…”

“Shiro.” She stops him mid-sentence, grinning brilliantly up at him. “That’s the most thoughtful thing anyone has done for me in a very long time.” Allura reaches for the crown, placing it back where it belonged.

“How does it look?” She asks, and Shiro can feel his heart flutter in his chest.

“You look beautiful, Princess.” He says, and the blush he gets in response was well worth the trouble he had gone through to get her this simple pleasure.

***

Requests are still open!

I love my girlfriend~

@gravitationallychallengedrabbits

Love you, babe~ 😘

I JUST FOUND A GAY KIDS BOOK ABOUT A PRINCE AND KNIGHT IN LOVE AND IM,,, OBLITERATED

Thank you very much!!

Drinking Buddies

Hey all! I've re-joined a fandom that is near and dear to my heart and I wanted to write something for all of these lovely people. Welcome to Good Omens!!

I'll be taking a break from Voltron for the time being, I need a change in scenery. Sorry to all those who are here specifically for that!

Without further ado; please join me and some drunk demons.

*

It was the one time a year where Heaven grouped together as a congregation to have their annual Great Plan meeting, where everyone was briefed on the vague idea of what could be happening in the coming year. Nobody was quite sure what to do now that the Apocalypse…. Hadn’t happened. Thus the vague meetings.

It was also the one time a year that Gabriel and Aziraphale dropped their respective demon partners at a bar and left them to their own devices for a few hours.

Despite popular belief, Crowley and Beelzebub got along quite well when there was alcohol involved. On this one day, they were reluctant friends instead of boss and subordinate. It was nice to have a change. Besides, it was also one of the only days that the Prince herself actually banished her flies and ran a comb through her messy hair, all for the sake of a few hours.

“Your Angel left you, too?” Crowley asks after they’d both gotten their drinks and sat in respective awkward silence for a few minutes.

Beelzebub scowls at her drink, a little more intensely than usual. “Yezzz. He’zzz running the damn thing.”

“You should’ve convinced him to cancel.” The snake scoffs, sipping his wine and glancing at the door. Twenty minutes in. This was going to last an eternity.

“I tried! He told me to buzzz off. Bloody angels and their bloody meetings.”

“Amen to that,” Crowley mumbles into his drink, ignoring the dirty look that earned him. Maybe he was picking up a few too many of Aziraphale’s linguistic habits. “So how is Hell doing, after you-know-what?”

“It’s more Hellish than usual, no thanks to you.” She scoffs. “Incredibly hot. Chaotic.”

“You should come and visit Earth more often, you might like it.”

Beelzebub rolls her eyes, knocking back the last of her drink and flagging over the bartender. “You sound like Gabriel.”

He makes a face, shaking his head. “Eugh, I make it a habit not to sound anything like him. Please don’t insult me like that.”

The Prince gives him a smug smile. “You dezzerve to be knocked down a few pegzz.”

Crowley ignores that. “Seriously, Beelzebub, your terrible Highness — coming up here may do you some good. You can… air out, as it were.”

“I quite like my office.” She says dryly, glancing up as the bartender pours her another drink. “It’zz familiar.”

“You’re festering.” He grins.

“I will not hezzitate to throw my drink on you, Crawley.”

“My name is Crowley,” the demon hisses, his yellow eyes flashing.

Beelzebub grins, tilting her head. “That’zz what I said.”

He considers her a moment, his eyes narrowing. Then he sighs heavily, shaking his head and turning back to his drink. “You’re still insufferable, I see.”

“The best of us never change.” She waves a hand. “How izz that Angel of yourzz?”

Crowley pauses, a dopey smile spreading over his lips at the thought of his Angel. Ah, Aziraphale… “He’s… He’s wonderful.”

“Dizzgusting.” She says flippantly.

The smile vanishes, replaced with an irritated scowl. That seemed to be a constant when he was in the Lord of the Flies’s presence. “And what about yours?”

“What, are you expecting me to get all mushy?”

“No, of course not.” He scoffs. “The Prince herself showing emotions? Preposterous. You don’t have a mushy bone in your body, Bee.”

“If I even have bones.” She says absently.

“If you even have bones,” he agrees. “But no, really, how is the Archangel Fucking Gabriel?”

The Prince cackles, throwing back her head. “He’s an azzhole! Juzzt like normal.”

“I never expected anything less.” Crowley rolls his eyes. How Aziraphale had put up with him for so long was a mystery to him — and it was an even bigger mystery how Beelzebub didn’t smite Gabriel where he stood every time he opened his mouth. Perhaps she was just attracted to rude dumbasses.

“He’s quite good in the bedroom, too.” She says, eyeing a couple in the corner who were making out like they would die if they didn’t spend their time swapping spit in a bar.

Crowley short circuits, the breath leaving his corporeal form. Then he smacks his hand on the counter with a triumphant, “I knew it!”

She gives him a flat look, but there was a hint of color creeping up on her sallow cheeks. “What? Did you place betzz?”

“Yes.” He nods. “I believe I won. My dear Angel owes me.”

“Azz if you two aren't fucking.” Beelzebub grumbles into her glass, glowering at him.

“In my defence,” Crowley holds up a finger. “It most definitely is not as frequent as you and Gabriel.”

“So that’zz your problem!” She grins, jabbing him with a bony finger. “You need to get laid.”

“He’s quite soft, he doesn’t do well with frequent, er… activity.” He quips, shaking his head.

“Your job is temptation, right?”

“Well, sure.”

“Then tempt him, you idiot!”

“But…” Crowley entertains this thought a moment, then makes a face. “But he’s so soft…”

“A little too zzoft, if you ask me.” Beelzebub rolls her eyes.

“He’s an Angel!” He scowls. “They’re soft by disposition!”

“No, I think yourzz is juzzt a zzpecial case.” She rolls her eyes, her finger tracing over the rim of her glass. “I must’ve mizzed that model.”

“Gabriel was just designed to be an ass.” Crowley huffs.

The Prince’s eyes go a bit hazy, and quite possibly… dreamy? “He does have a nice azz.”

“Oooh… was that an emotion?” The demon gasps in mock surprise. “Does the great Lord Beelzebub have feelings?”

She scowls into her drink. “Zzilence, imbecile.”

“I’m impressed,” he coos, leaning forward and looking over his glasses at her, eyes dancing with mischief. “Are you going soft, Bee?”

“I’ll zzmite you.” She says flatly, eyeing him.

“I’m already damned.” He snorts, leaning back and picking up his drink again.

“You’re a damned fool, that’zz what you are.”

“Perhaps,” he muses, looking up at the TV in the corner, following the sport with hazy eyes.

“I don’t see how Aziraphale puts up with you.”

He glares at her. “He — He loves me, thank you very much. He’s a very good individual.”

“How quaint.” Beelzebub drawls, rolling her eyes.

Crowley eyes her shrewdly, pursing his lips. Then he huffs. “Tell me about your Gabriel.”

The Prince, who had been taking a sip of her drink, chokes and splutters with a fantastic lack of grace. She wipes her mouth on her sleeve, giving him a deer-in-the-headlights look. “What aboutmy — my Gabriel.”

The demon grins lazily, lifting a shoulder in a half shrug. “I don’t know, anything.”

“Are you asking about my zz— my sex life?” She buzzes, concentrating on her words, metaphorical hackles raised.

“Heavens, no!” Crowley cackles. “I couldn’t care less what you get up to in the bedroom. What I mean is,” he wiggles his eyebrows. “Does he make you feel warm and fuzzy, your highness?”

“What?!” She squawks, flushing darkly, her gaze darting around. “No! Of course not!”

“I’m only kidding, relax.” He laughs. There was no need to suffer the wrath of one of Hell’s finest. “But really, what’s it like? Do you get along?”

“We get along well enough.” The Prince offers reluctantly. “He’s quite affectionate.”

“Is he?” That was hard to believe.

“Oh, yezz.” She nods, chewing on her lower lip. “Alwayzz wanting to touch me. He likes teazzing, too. The brat.”

That was shocking. Beelzebub was a prickly little thing. Many a demon had lost fingers for even brushing against her accidentally. “Is that so?” He muses, then gives her a wicked grin. “I’ll bet you love it.”

“You can’t prove that.” She says hotly into her drink.

He snorts. “No, suppose I can’t. Does he come into Hell to see you or do you go Upstairs?”

“What, you think I’d go up to that blasted place?” She scowls. “He comes to me. As he should.”

“How odd,” Crowley raises an eyebrow. “Gabriel doesn’t seem to be the type to come to Hell willingly.”

“He’zz quite willing when I’m through with him.” Beelzebub chuckles. “Angels are rather good bottomzz, aren’t they? Or does your Aziraphale step up?”

“What?” The demon laughs. “No, he doesn’t have an ounce of dominance in him! Although he is quite loud.”

“Yours is loud? Unfair.” She whines.

“It took some coaxing,” Crowley says smugly, unable to help feeling a tad superior. “But it was worth the effort.”

“I’ll take that into conzzideration.” She muses. “Although Gabriel isn’t as zzoft as your Angel.”

“Yes, Aziraphale is quite a soft boy.” He says fondly.

“Gabriel is a little piece of shit boy.” Beelzebub groans. “Speaking of — they should’ve been done by now. What’zz taking zzo long?”

“I don’t know.” He wrinkles his nose. “Maybe they’ll be here soon.”

“They better be.” The Prince mutters, squinting at the clock.

*

Aziraphale and Gabriel walked into the bar they had left their Demons in to find them drunk and getting along… alarmingly well.

“An’ then I said… I said…” Crowley was slurring. He looks up just in time to lose his train of thought and brightens, looking more like an excited puppy than a fearsome demon. “Aziraphale!”

“Heeeeey — it’zz the piece of shit boy!” Beelzebub crows, in a loud and loose fashion that was definitely nothing like her usual disposition.

“Oh, dear,” says Aziraphale, “they’re quite drunk.”

“Wonderful,” Gabriel says, his expression pinched.

“What did you get into, love?” Aziraphale asks fondly, walking over and steadying Crowley when he reaches for his Angel.

“Nothin’.” He gives him a dopey grin, his eyes shining from behind his glasses, which were knocked askew.

“Gabriel!” The Prince snaps. “Get your bitch azz over here!”

“There’s no need to be rude, Beelzebub.” The Archangel sighs, walking over to his own mess of a demon.

Crowley was looking up at Aziraphale like he’d hung the bloody moon, a dopey, drunken smile on his lips. The Angel chuckles softly, cupping his face and brushing his thumbs over his cheeks lovingly. “I think you’re quite drunk, my love.”

“Psshhh,” Crowley wobbles in his seat, waving a hand and accidentally swatting Aziraphale. “Naw… Jus’ a lil — hic — a lil…” He trails off, getting distracted by the smattering of freckles across the Angel’s nose. “Hmm…”

Meanwhile, Gabriel was in a similar position, trying to persuade Beelzebub it was time to go home as well.

“You alwayzzzzz… alwayzzz ruin my fun,” she pouts up at her Angel, her dark eyes bleary and her cheeks flushed from drink.

“I believe you have plenty of fun on your own, Bee.” He sighs, prying her off the barstool and slinging her over his shoulder. “Come on. Bedtime.”

“See you next year, Gabriel,” Aziraphale calls after them. “And, er… Good luck.”

“Thanks.” He sighs over the Prince’s drunken giggling. “You as well.”

The Angel turns his attention back to Crowley, who’s eyelids were slipping shut as he sagged against the counter. Aziraphale pays the tab, adding a hefty tip for the troubles the demons likely caused.

“Come on, my love,” he says as he helps his demon off the barstool. “Until next year.”

“Next year…” Crowley agrees, stumbling along as his Angel takes him home to tuck him into bed and nurse his impending hangover away.

how to trick writers into giving you more fanfic to read

August 21st is Fanfic Writer’s Appreciation Day  💕

Let’s be honest - we all forget to leave a comment sometimes. We don’t always go out of our way to click the “come talk to me on tumblr” link on AO3 to scream about the fic in the author’s inbox. On August 21st I encourage you to take a moment and show fanfic writers that you appreciate them!

How can you do it?

leave a comment and kudos on every fic you finish reading. Doesn’t matter how short. Doesn’t matter if you’re just repeating what other people have already said. Just be kind! Keysmashing, Caps Lock, and live commenting appreciated! (Bonus points if you leave a comment on every chapter)

ideas for what to put in a comment: one | two

floaty review box for ao3 (super useful for commenting as you read + it has a ‘review tips’ button if you feel stuck)

reblog ficlets, drabbles, fics, fic rec posts, etc. Put a nice comment in the tags. Remember that likes, while appreciated, don’t give the writer any exposure, meaning the posts don’t reach more people

go to your local fanfic writer’s inbox and talk to them about their fic of your choice. Let them know how long ago you’ve read it and what story point/sentence/scene still makes you smile when you think about it

send thank you messages to fic writers. In a world where you have to pay for almost everything, they’re supplying you with countless hours of free entertainment. It can get quite lonely without getting messages acknowledging the hours they spend writing stories - let them know their time and effort is appreciated

make fic rec posts and @ the authors whose fics you’re recommending! (believe me, fic writers love to see their stories in these posts)

create something inspired by a fic! You can draw fanart, make a moodboard or aesthetic post, or even write a song for the fic you love. Whether you’re a beginner or a pro doesn’t matter - the thought alone is what counts more than anything <3

buy the writer a coffee if they have a ko-fi page and you have some change lying around c: Caffeine keeps most fic writers awake when they struggle with a particularly slow draft or a difficult scene. More coffee, more content.

These are only some ideas out of the sea of possible ways to appreciate fanfic writers. On August 21st show the writers in your fandom(s) some love <3