#jay.writes

[ahalliance]

so dig your dirt and make your grave (ao3)

Rating: Gen

Archive Warning(s): None

Category: Gen

Fandom: Dream SMP

Character(s)/Relationship(s): Tubbo, Tubbo & Tommyinnit

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 3,682

“Tommy is openly, overwhelmingly angry for Tubbo, eyes wide and mouth agape, his indignation written in every single line of his face. The sheer supportiveness would make Tubbo cry if he hadn’t learned how to screw those pipes shut indefinitely.

Man up, Schlatt would shout. Stand up straight and stiffen your shoulders, Wilbur would say. Hide your feelings, hide your fear, his own mind would whisper. And here he was now, staring impassively before him with his hands around a mug of tea, listening in a dull stupor as Tommy screams out his lungs at Technoblade.”

my first dream smp fic in four years in the year of our lord 2025 . godbless ctubbo and the manberg era (written for @lmanbergtubbo for the tubbo hq 2024 secret santa yippee yippee!!)

[meangirlcoded]

you've been lost in a canyon

teen audiences | hurt/comfort | 3.8k words

summary:

“You should be my Valentine this year. We deserve to have valentines,” Jake sighs, picking at the corner of the label of his last beer. He’s definitely indulged in more than he should have, and he’s feeling loose, calm. Confident. “I deserve to have you…as my Valentine.”

“Yeah.” Jake looks down again and spies Javy sporting the same slow smile he’s had for the last half hour. Jake’s not sure he’ll ever get used to the way his smile takes up his entire face, cheekbones sitting high on his face. He’s nodding slowly, as if he’s mentally repeating Jake’s words back to himself. “I’d like that.”

“Good. Then it’s settled.” -----

or the time jake and javy decided to be valentines. called it off. and then found their way back to each other.

tags: valentine's day fic, alternate universe - canon divergence, macheresin, clubbing, gift-giving, implied/referenced drug use, for @alecjbi

[youregoingtobe-thedeathofme]

“Let’s not get angry. Let’s calmly and sensibly take this outside so I can ruin your face.” Ted to Sam?

God I’ve been eager to do this one. Sam’s an asshole, a hypocritical asshole. Just wait.

-

It was a bar, he was in a bar.

Ted had to remind himself of his surroundings because all he could see was red and that stupid, goddamn look on Sam’s face.

“Hey! Asshole!” He called to the bar, and both the bartender and the officer looked his way. Ted had a snarl on his face as he kept pacing towards the other man. Sam squinted until he got a clear view and then a flare of anger went up in him as he recognized the other man. “Strong words from a homewrecker, Ted.” He shot back. “Strong words from an abusive husband.” Ted shot right back, louder intentionally. Heads further began to turn at that accusation, and ted could at least know half of hatchetfield would hear by tomorrow morning. It’s all he could hope for. Sam’s curls flew around as Sam whipped his head back and forth to see the rooms attention shift, and swore at the fact.

“Shut the fuck up, scumbag.” The officer hisses to Ted and Ted just laughs, it comes out accidentally and it sounds oh so bitter. “Scumbag? That’s fucking rich, Sam, that’s rich coming from-“ “enough fancy talk asshole” Sam interrupted and from the burning eyes all around them ted knew why. Ted wasn’t going to be able to tell the truth, Sam wouldn’t let that much get out. “I have half the mind to shut you up.” The married man told ted warningly, anger bristling from his head to his toes, ready to jump out of his seat. Ted noticed. He also could not back down now.

The man who was truly in love with Charlotte took a solid second to take a good look around the innocent and concerned faces in the room around him. ”now officer, let’s not get angry...” Ted’s eyes found their way back to Sam, some kind of fire in them. “Let’s calmly and sensibly take this outside so I can ruin your face.” His words were met with the immediate sound of Sam standing straight out of his chair. He slammed it back towards the bar, taking a few more steps towards Ted. He speaks, his fatal mistake.

“You think I’m not gonna beat the shit out of you, too? You don’t look much stronger than Charlotte.”

And Ted sees red once more as he lunges for Sam’s throat.

[fantasyborn]

so I started this in maybe June of this year and wrote 150 words....I finished the rest of it in the past two days. anyway, i’m going to write more of these three so hold on to your hats.

On the Wind - 1.5k, Cedric/Cho/Percy, Percy POV. Just cute.

Even though Percy doesn’t often play Quidditch himself, he has grown up around the game; he can trace his life history through Quidditch matches and practices. Today would be no different.

[ahalliance]

sunspots and vex blue (ao3)

He doesn’t think he’s an irredeemable villain. He thinks he’s a charismatic one, a conniving one, but not someone who acts out of a complete self-interest. He hasn’t got a heart of complete stone; it buckles under love’s pressure all the same, even if he may like to pretend otherwise. He remembers echoes of guilt, rising up from his lungs as he’d breathed the night air in; he remembers the twinge of pain that absence had brought, whenever he’d looked to his side and seen his second half replaced by someone so much lesser. And he remembers his soul-crushing joy when he’d seen Grian atop that hill, bathed in the rising sun's light, bloody vengeance reserved for him alone bright, bright in his eyes. 

Rating: Teen

Archive Warning: None

Category: Gen

Fandom: 3rd Life SMP & Hermitcraft

Relationship: GoodTimesWithScar & Hermits/3rd Life players

Series: trials and tribulations and explorations thereof

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 4,622

[ahalliance]

WIP Game

Rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet and tell us about it!

(tagged by @echotunes :])

oh lord . here are both old (1 year+) and decently recent ones :

cataracts

c(l)ockduo

desert duo (the fic)

gomens

gomens 2

jmart

last life impulse

marty mcfly trans

purgatory 2

qantoine blorbo guy return

qetoiles blurb

qfrench backstory

silver and vex blue

to love is to be changed

i had an era of titling stuff ‘blegh’ or with single letters but i have left that era ! so joy semi comprehensive titles be upon you . technically this isn’t all of my wips either but the rest are probably abandoned/don’t rly inspire much from me anymore

so yeah feel free to send me an ask if you’re curious about a certain title and wanna know more !

taglist: @misotofu @bewaretheidesofmarchyall @bananasofthorns @lunarblazes @creetchure

no pressure to participate + mutuals who write and who i haven’t tagged for whatever reason, pls feel free to join in as well !!

[ahalliance]

Rating: Gen

Archive Warning: None

Category: Gen

Fandom: QSMP

Relationships: Etoiles & Pomme, Etoiles & Binary Code Entity

Series: qsmp french

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 2,867

“He’s holding his shield in his hand, still. Hugged against his left side, helmet pressed against his right, a good thing, a warrior without his defence is no warrior at all. He goes to move the shield, to shift it forwards to show it off to Pomme. He opens his mouth. Closes it again. Thinks twice about actually mentioning it, mentioning that it’s technically at the source of the scars crawling ruthlessly up his limb and face, the void-weight that digs numbly into his skin.

Pomme, the lovely, logical creature that she is, will hang onto that point with fervour. She will worry about his using the shield, will wonder if he still should even as she knows how important it is to him (just like her mother does, did, she still does), and he will tell her that he can’t give it up, he has people to protect, and she will be disappointed even as she understands, and she will worry more, and it will be a mess. Half of her parents are not here. She has enough on her plate as is.”

first qsmp (étoiles) fic who cheered ‼️‼️ english fic with french dialogue (no imbedded translation i’m afraid, may figure out smth at a later date)

[ahalliance]

Rating: Teen

Archive Warning: None

Category: Gen

Fandom: 3rd Life SMP

Relationship: Grian & GoodTimesWithScar

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 1,691

"He should have given in, killed Scar in his cadaver-sleep like he’d been tempted to so many times before, diamond sword sweat-gripped in his hand above his moonlit cot; but he hadn’t then, and still wouldn’t now, and he’s always snapped back, biting, at the mere insinuation that he’s a fool, but he’s undoubtedly feeling like one now.

It should be easy to kill; it is easy to kill. He lets his grip loosen, anyway."

wake up babe jay is writing deranged 3rd life fic again

[ahalliance]

i would like to know more about gomens

hi !!

my wip titled good omens is, in fact, a good omens wip lmao . it’s based on an idea i had for the potential s3 ending after s2 aired where it loops back around to the 1st season; crowley and aziraphale’s story started in a garden (of eden), and so it should also end in a garden (of their cottage in the south downs). one of those narratively satisfying things i really wanted to write back in my all consuming hyperfixation era post s2 where all i could think about was them <3 then i eventually lost steam and moved on to other stuff rip

extract:

“Don’t be so modest,” he replied, teasing. He reached out to place his hand over Crowley’s chest, ducking his fingers into his shirt. “I’m so very appreciative.”

There was a blush to his partner’s cheeks, unmistakable up this close. Aziraphale resisted the urge to cause its further spread with a well placed kiss. “Right,” he eventually got out, “I’m glad. I— I have something else to show you too, if you want.”

“Oh?”

Crowley took a step back, head craning upwards; his golden eyes landed on one of their garden’s trees. It seemed rather unremarkable, amongst others of its kind, and amongst other vegetation more verdant. But Crowley ran his hand over a cluster of leaves with such a gentle, venerating touch that Aziraphale had to wonder.

His hand paused over a certain area. Then there was a slight pull to the creases in Crowley’s forehead, and the distinct feeling of a miracle in the air, and Aziraphale watched, transfixed, as one of the branches began to duck, pulled down by some mysterious weight. He caught sight of a growing flash of red, and it was only a few seconds later that Crowley reached forwards and plucked the newly grown fruit, presumably, from its leaves. He turned around, giving Aziraphale a smile that was just slightly crooked. “Catch.”

And he did. He held out his hands and caught exactly what he’d begun to suspect in his hands; an apple.”

tbh looking back on it now i’d like to finish it at some point, i enjoy where i was going with it! and i think it deserves finishing . maybe at some point i will we shall see :D

wip game

[ahalliance]

Rating: Teen

Archive Warning: None

Category: Gen

Fandom: 3rd Life & Hermitcraft

Relationships: ImpulseSV & multiple other 3rd Life Members

Series: trials and tribulations and explorations thereof

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 3,417

“And there the problem is, laid out before him in stark clarity; his absolute inability to move on, even though it’s been more than a month. Some part of him, the logical, common sense part that would chime in if he were talking to anyone else, knows that healing isn’t easy; that it isn’t linear, or straightforward, or has a set start and finish.

But it’s an explanation easier offered than put into practice; the platitude rings hollow when you’re alone, and floundering, and there is no light in sight within your dark and damp tunnel. It means nothing, when you’re lost so deep in your own struggles that you don’t even know if there’s a way out.”

first fic in a series exploring post third life trauma in various miners and crafters (the hermitcraft ones), starting with Impulse! for once in my life i am going with the flow and publishing as i write

[ahalliance]

Rating: Gen

Archive Warnings: None

Categories: F/M, M/M, Other

Fandom: Good Omens (TV)

Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley, Aziraphale/Crowley

Chapter: 1/1

Word Count: 14,188

Event: 2023 Fic in a Box

It was just the two of them, he and Crowley, angel and demon, two opposites on the sides of a War that would have its culmination merely eight hundred years from now. They were not meant to be here, solitary, in some thin alleway in a small German town that would have no significance a millennium from now, had no significance now, even; at least not in the powers-at-be’s eyes. Everything about this was improbable. Every shred of angelic instinct within him, that’d he quietly begun to drown out over the years when he was with Crowley, was yelling at him to leave at once, to get out while he could still play at respectability.

He stood there, the breeze playing with his locks of platinum hair, and did not move. He set his shoulders, lifted his chin a little. “I’ll take care of it, Crowley,” Aziraphale firmly stated. “Take care of them.”

dun dun dun, my work for this year’s Fic in a Box event! a good omens 5+1 fairy tale retelling for Melime <3

[ahalliance]

I want to know about c(l)ock duo for the WIP ask game :D

Hihi azham :D

Okay my c(l)ockduo wip is a bdubs and impulse double life fic ive had in my backpocket for . So many months now LOL since July I think . i have this third life series that explores the post-game trauma of the hermit players (that I . Also haven’t updated since July my bad lmao) and I started writing this particular wip as a continuation of that from an impulse pov bc impulse and bdubs life series brainrot <3 always been absolutely fascinated by them and I wanted to touch on their double life dynamic bc holy shit . You forcibly soul bonded two people who have this Giant Elephant in the room together (bdubs’ permakill on impy back on third life) that one is still feeling fucked up over (impy) and the other is trying to ignore and move on from (bdubs) . how do they confront that . How do they NOT confront that . The potential is CRAZY . Also the wip is called c(l)ockduo because the fact that clock is one letter off from cock is humorous to me . also they were self-admittedly (gay) married that season . Don’t come for me

EXTRACT !!

“They plant flowers in the soil beds outside their home. 

The house, Midcentury-modern, as Bdubs insists on categorising it, is practically finished; at least its exterior is. Impulse can’t quite face going inside yet, can't bear to pass through elegant doors to see nothing but emptiness. The same emptiness he feels rising within him whenever he’s left alone to his thoughts for too long; whenever he catches Bdubs’ frowning visage out of the corner of his eye, and feels the yawning gap that still lingers between them. 

It isn’t all vacant, he knows. A thread of longing still beats, alive, to some invisible rhythm he cannot place. It sits there next to his heart, next to the soulmate bond imposed upon them.

There is still love, like invisible ink, revealed through blood and sweat; there is love like a tender wound, both a curse and boon against his fragile body. Impulse can feel it all thrumming there, in his chest, a faint double heartbeat that reminds him that not all is quite lost yet. That emptiness does not define them; that emptiness can be dusted out like sheets, if only they’d address it. 

But for now, they plant flowers instead.”

this is nearer to the beginning of the fic where theyre already paired and have started construction on their house and impulse is trying to figure out how to Talk to bdubs past empty platitudes . and he’s finding it hard and confusing !! they’re both struggling with it a lot in their own ways . but the way the fic goes they Do end up talking about stuff in some capacity and it’s at least mildly healing for them (more than they talked in canon at least . but hey you write the things u wanna see LOL)

hope my ramblings were comprehensible hehe

WIP Game

[ahalliance]

Rating: Teen

Archive Warning: Major Character Death

Category: Gen

Fandom: 3rd Life

Relationships: Grian & InTheLittleWood (primarily)

Chapters: 1/8

Word Count: 23,103

“Maybe it’s because those first few nights spent underground are still imprinted in his mind; ash coated hair and worn out pickaxes, high pitched laughter strung out from his stupid jokes, an echo of camaraderie alight in their eyes. And he remembers thinking, oh, this is unfair.

Half lost in a dimly lit mineshaft. Diamonds shared in honour of tentative friendship. Loyalty shoved down his throat until he was choking on it.”

fic for the pale white horse au! been working on this for a bit, so i’m glad to finally be able to publish the first chapter :D

beeg beeg shoutout to my dudes @cocoabats, @lunarblazes, @aeolidi and everyone else who contributed to the pwh au creation insanity <3

[ahalliance]

a stranger’s grasp on the narrative

word count: 1647

fandom: Hermitcraft SMP

link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40195134

summary: What is reality, really, but an adherence to someone else’s story?

My Scar centred piece for @hermithorrors! Was a blast to work on, and I totally recommend you checking out the zine in full :]

[ahalliance]

la galaxie s’étend (ensemble, nous sommes des étoiles)

summary: Grian is not human. No one in Boatem is. That does not stop him from being the strangest out of the bunch.

word count: 7351

this is a secret santa gift for the lovely @echotunes !! :D prompt was: eldritch!grian/boatem

ao3 link

[snippet to follow, full piece on ao3]

—

It had all really started when Mumbo had given a name to their chaos, so if anyone were to blame it’d be him.

No matter that he, Grian, had been the one to pull up a sign, eager hands trembling with the anticipation of something monumental, and to ask for a name. Mumbo had been the one to give it, so the blame could now be pushed onto him instead.

Anything before that could have been passed off as a quick laugh, some light fun to ease the nerves of the jump to their new world. But the potential had been named and cemented into reality, so a quiet sense of purpose begins to beat a steady rhythm in his chest.

Boatem.

Grian worries his lower lip between his teeth. That excited shake in his hands has stilled, now calm with the creeping realisation of the situation’s severity. He casts a purple tinted gaze around the little group, probing and curious, but the others seem blind to the upheaval of everything that was and everything that could be.

The Boatem Pole stands before him, tall and imposing and so very full of meaning. Grian strides forwards and pushes his hand up against the crafting table near the bottom. It’s plain old wood, same as any other of its kind; but, still, the contact of it against his palm sparks a sort of glee, deep in his soul. This is the beginning of something.

Grian shoots Mumbo in particular another quick, inquisitive glance, wondering if he knows what he has just brought to life. The chances are rather slim; no one here is human — and thus find themselves rather attuned to the strange — but none of them can See either, not like he does. Whether that be for better or for worse, he still isn’t quite sure.

He rolls up his sleeves, picking nervously at the fabric. He should give them a heads-up. Shouldn’t he? Nothing has happened yet. But it could. And it very easily would if he lets things slip out of his control.

Names hold power. Everyone knows that, regardless of their species or status. People just tend to… forget. Or to not feel the impact of them until it’s too late. The gentle tugging sensation in his gut, however, will clearly not let him do either of those things.

Maybe he should have thought twice before giving into impulse; he has a responsibility, after all. But….

It’ll be fine, he thinks to himself quietly, the bubbling joy from the others around him soothing his worries. It’ll be fine; this is Hermitcraft, after all, and it’s already seen its fair share of absurdity, even before his own arrival.

—

[ahalliance]

an observer in a land of none

ao3 link

relationships: grian & scar

word count: 7691

summary:

There was silence for a while. But then came the question; maladroit and uncertain, but with clear determination, and a blooming curiosity. “Who are you?”

He blinked. The absurdity of the query made laughter — the sort that grips you ruthlessly by the chest and throws your head back — climb up his throat, held back only by his sunburnt cheeks. And yet it was a fair thing to ask; he was the stranger, after all, passing through lands not his own.

“Oh, I’ve many names.” He finally smiled, sharp-toothed and sly. And he had; nicknames and true names, barbed insults and cautionary titles. “My friends call me Scar, though.”

Or: Scar, between Hermitcraft worlds, takes a trip and makes a new friend.