archangelsquill

[archangelsquill]

and ammendment to the poll i put out

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me: posts a poll asking what people want to see

also me, starting on a lee scoresby work when literally no one voted for it anyway:

[archangelsquill]

and ammendment to the poll i put out

[archangelsquill]

and ammendment to the poll i put out

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Wishing all of you a very merry "I suddenly have the motivation and time to write a minimum 10k fic"... please

[archangelsquill]

what if i wrote lee scoresby?

what then, huh?

[archangelsquill]

masterlist & rules

last updated: march 25th

as of my current update, my works are generally rated pg or a strong pg-13. that will eventually change and this will update to 18+ only when it does.

rules

don't be a dick

i reserve the right to refuse certain requests

i will not, under any circumstances, write any non con (sex pollen and related tropes included) or anything under age, and that includes aging a character up.

don't be in my ask or ims talking shit about other writers. it's an asshole thing to do and i will not condone it

other than that, i'm pretty chill. enjoy your stay!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

characters i'll write for (*indicates i'm testing writing the character before they're officially added to the list.)

note: i take suggestions on characters to write

most clancy brown characters including, but not limited to the kurgen (highlander), damien darkblood (invisible), and rawhide (the adventures of buckaroo banzai)

ray stantz - ghostbusters

captain howzer - the bad batch

eric draven - the crow

frank columbo - columbo*

arthur morgan - red dead redemption*

masterlist

damien darkblood - invincible

to hell & back

part one | part two

i'll come running

something soft

rawhide - the adventures of buckaroo banzai

maps of the past

ray stantz - ghostbusters

meet cute

[archangelsquill]

gabster-writes ➡️ archangelsquill

[archangelsquill]

Pro Tip for Writers

If you want a great spelling check website, all you have to do is hit the "post/publish" button and all your mistakes will become abundantly obvious to you through the magic of absolute mortification

[archangelsquill]

meet cute || ray stantz/gn! reader

pairing: ray stantz / gn reader

word count: 1447 ish

summary: your typical awkward first meeting with the world’s softest ghostbuster.

warnings: n/a :)

a/n: the plan is to make this short on purpose as a warm up to longer fics after a long absence. we’ll see how that goes rip. also proofreading??? in this economy???

--------

You always knew when Dr. Stantz was working on the Ecto: you could hear his stereo blasting from blocks away, carrying the dulcet tones of muffled rock and roll through the chilly New York air. Since you’d been hired, you and Janine had decided to split the secretarial responsibilities on the days you were both scheduled: today, she was in charge of the technical things, and you were running errands: picking up the flight suits from the dry cleaners here, stopping for parts there, and eventually winding up at the only coffee house in all of New York that everyone could agree on before heading back to the firehouse. You looked a bit of a mess, but that was just par for the course at this point. You don’t work for people called “Ghostbusters” without expecting it to be a weird job – which it absolutely is.

Still, it isn’t the worst job you’ve had. In fact, it might be one of the better ones, despite the unconventional work conditions. Your bosses are, for all intents and purposes, relatively decent people:

Dr. Spengler doesn’t say much to you aside from giving you tasks, but he stood up for you without question when that one guy got mad at you for the state the boys left his house in.

Dr. Venkman drips with sarcasm, even when all he’s doing is asking if there were any calls when he was gone, but he buys you lunch when things are too busy for you to stop and eat. He got you a turkey sandwich when you’d asked for chicken, but it was a nice gesture, and the sandwich wasn’t bad.

Winston stopped and took over the phones the few times you’ve been overwhelmed, sending you to a back area of the firehouse to take a breather before jumping back into it. Of the boys, he seemed most in tune with you and Janine, helping with the customer service side of things when he had a chance.

Dr. Stantz spent a lot of time in the lab or working on Ecto-1. You hadn’t really gotten to know him yet, but he always gave you a big smile when he saw you, and the genuineness of it made your heart skip a beat and a blush to bloom across your cheeks. You weren’t even sure if he knew your name.

The music gets louder as you get closer to the building, balancing the tray of coffee precariously on top of the pile of books Dr. Spengler ordered from the library (considering his already expansive library and Dr. Stantz’s bookstore, you didn’t think there were books left for him to borrow, but the sizable stack in your arms deemed otherwise.) There was no way you were going to get the door open by yourself, so you knock. Of course, there’s no answer, just the sound of the stereo, clanging of tools, and chipper sound of Dr. Stantz singing along to the music. Shit.

“Dr. Stantz?” you call, to no avail, “Dr. Stantz? Can you get the door, please?”

Again, nothing. He’s in his own world, and it would be easier to wrangle your own ghost than to try to get his attention. Sighing, you try to grab the inner door handle from under the stack of books, the weight of them starting to sink in. You can’t get a good grip on it, so it just jiggles pathetically.

“Dr. Stantz!” you call again, louder. Infuriatingly, nothing. Still. The books are slipping from the top of the stack, the coffee going with them.

“RAY!” you yell, trying to open the door again, leaning on it to maybe stabilize the tower of books as your hand once again fumbles for the handle. Over the sound of the music, you can't hear him approach the door, and the doorknob jiggling from the other side doesn’t register until the door opens and you’re falling forward, directly onto the unsuspecting Dr. Stantz. The coffee and books go flying and the dry cleaning slips from your hand. You fully expect to hit the floor next, but instead find yourself in the strong grip of Ray’s arms.

Well. That’s embarrassing.

As he sets you on your feet, the apologies begin, piled on top of one another like the books at your feet.

“I am so sor–”

He cuts you off.

“No, I’m sorry, I should’ve–”

You cut him off.

“No, I should’ve been–”

“Well, my music shouldn’t be that loud –”

“I should have gotten a cab –"

“It’s okay."

“Its fine, I promise.”

You’re both blushy and awkward (and more than a little embarrassed) before the silence just becomes too much for him to bear.

“We haven’t really talked since your interview,” he wipes his hands on a rag and offers it with a boyish smile, “I’m Ray.”

Offering your own smile, you give your name and shake his hand – its large, calloused, and nearly completely envelopes yours. He’s already introduced himself when you were first hired, but maybe he doesn’t remember. Smart people tend to forget small things.

For a moment, you two awkwardly stand there before you both suddenly come to your senses and bend down to grab the fallen books.

“These for Egon?” he asks, reading the title of a particularly heavy textbook.

“Yeah,” you begin stacking them, “did any of them get coffee spilled on them?”

“No, don’t think so,” he inspects the next few books carefully before putting them on your stack, and you breathe a sigh of relief. The coffee can be replaced and the clothes rewashed, but the books would have cost more than your rent to replace.

You both reach for the last book, hands grazing each other, and you both freeze for a moment. You both chuckle awkwardly as he picks it up from a different angle and hands it to you.

“No harm done!” he proclaims.

“Yeah, shame about the coffee, though,” you mutter, shuffling the stack of books into your arms.

“How ‘bout I take those?” he offers. You want to object, but he has a sweet, expectant look in his eyes, and you can’t say no.

“Just don’t dock my pay or anything,” you try to joke as he scoops up the stack with ease.

“Oh, I don’t do payroll. That’s all Pete.”

“I know, I was joking.”

“Oh.”

There’s another awkward silence as you both head upstairs to the lab, only broken by you helping Ray navigate around the stack of books to Egon’s desk, where he sets them down with a THUD!

“Thank you, Dr. Stantz,” you offer a polite, professional smile, “Truth be told, I probably would’ve killed myself trying to get up those steps.”

“Its no problem. I needed to take a break, anyway.”

In all the weeks you’d been here, you’ve never seen this man take a break.

“Right,” you say, “well, again, thanks. Anyway, I should probably head back to the coffee house and pick up more coffee. Everyone’s been really nice since I started, but I don’t want to know what Dr. Spengler is like without caffeine.”

Ray chuckles a little at that, “Yeah, you really don’t.”

You exchange smiles and he walks you back down the ground floor, making light conversation as you reach the door. In the short distance between the lab and the front door, you’d already learned all about what he’s doing with the Ecto today (something about a killswitch) and how he and Winston did all the work on her and how he thinks there’s actually a ghost living in the glove compartment. You mostly listened, observing how his eyes light up when talking about ghosts and machinery.

When you reach the door, he’s still talking, only stopping when his foot nudges one of the unfortunate paper coffee cups from the previous run. He clears his throat, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.

“I’ll keep the music quiet this time. Just in case.”

“Thank you, Dr. Stantz.”

“You can call me Ray, if you’d like.”

“Okay, then. Thank you, Ray.”

For a moment, its quiet, but not as awkward this time. Just holding the space.

Funny. You just noticed his eyes are two different colors: one brown, one green.

“Guess I’ll be back soon.”

“Guess so.”

And with that, as much as you want to skip getting the coffee and just stick around him and listen to more about the science of parapsychology, you have a job to do, so you head back onto the street and hail a cab.

Definitely isn’t the worst job you’ve ever had. Actually, you muse as you turn and catch him watching you get into the cab before closing the door, it might end up being one of the best.

[archangelsquill]

anyone still here?

hi. it's been awhile.

first off, sorry for my *checks watch* year long absence. to make a long story short, my mom died and that wasn't even the worst part. i haven't had the energy nor inclination to write.

i've had time to process and chill and i can feel the itch to write coming back. i'm gonna try to take it slow, since it's been a jot second, but yeah. guess i'm back!

[archangelsquill]

anyone still here?

hi. it's been awhile.

first off, sorry for my *checks watch* year long absence. to make a long story short, my mom died and that wasn't even the worst part. i haven't had the energy nor inclination to write.

i've had time to process and chill and i can feel the itch to write coming back. i'm gonna try to take it slow, since it's been a jot second, but yeah. guess i'm back!

[archangelsquill]

hey, gang. sorry for the silence the past few weeks. my car shit the bed and my mom had a pretty bad health scare. i have all requests drafted and i'll try to work on them this week.

thank y'all for your patience ❤

[archangelsquill]

if you're reading this you're legally obligated to request something sorry i don't make the rules

[archangelsquill]

I just read both of your Damien fics, may i kindly ask for 1 more,,, a crumb of something soft, literally ANYTHING you got please, I love how you write already

pairing: damien darkblood x partner reader (gn, no y/n)

fandom: invincible

word count: 1014

summary: damien darkblood’s love language is acts of service and i will die on this hill

warnings: not proofread, we die like men.

a/n: you requested a crumb of something soft and since this took forever, here’s a whole slice of cake <3 i’m so sorry this took so long!

--------------

Through no fault of your own, your apartment was a mess: trash was overflowing, dishes had piled up, and you were down to your dingiest clean clothes to wear to work.

You hadn’t been home except to sleep and shower in weeks. Work was piling up faster than you could complete it, leading to long days and long nights in your office. Hell, you’d slept there a few nights the past few weeks. You hated it, but there wasn’t much to be done about that. You were up for a promotion, which meant you couldn’t slow down now.

The chill that hung around you every now and again was a painful reminder that your home wasn’t the only part of your life you’d been neglecting: you hadn’t seen Damien since all of this chaos started, though you could feel his presence. He hadn’t complained -- in fact, he hadn’t said a word to you -- and you figured that was because you never said anything when he’d be gone so long chasing a lead. You never minded, and he seemed to be returning the favor now that the roles were reversed.

Damien was never good with words, but his actions would say all they needed. Some days, you’d get home to find a fridge full of groceries you didn’t buy, or walk in the door just in time for a bath to finish filling, a chill in the air. One night, after falling asleep in your office, you awoke to find a heavy, tan trench coat draped around your shoulders and a still cold rose laying on the desk beside you. These little favors were always a welcome respite from the never ending mess of work you found yourself in lately.

Your apartment was colder than usual tonight. Damien was paying a visit, which made your limbs feel lighter as you unlocked your door.

The lack of the stench of three day old take out wasn’t lost on you as you crossed the threshold.

“Damien?”

You flicked on the living room light to find everything spotless, probably for the first time since you moved in.

“Damien?”

“Amare.”

Your demon detective seemed to appear from thin air, a soft expression on his face.

“Missed you,” he said simply, hands in his pockets, “wanted to do something kind.”

You smiled at him, dropping your bag heavily where you stood and practically falling into his arms. You were exhausted, and you’d missed his cold embrace.

“Missed you, too,” you mumbled.

For a moment, he just held you, a large, clawed hand carding through your hair.

“Think everything is in its place. Had to make a few guesses,” he rumbled, pointed chin resting atop your head, “Apologies if things are misplaced.”

“Damien, its perfect,” you looked up at him, smiling softly. You stood on your tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his lips. Its cold as always, but it doesn’t force the air from your lungs like it used to. He smiled into the kiss -- which, considering he was a rather serious creature, was rare -- and held you even tighter.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Don’t tell me you cooked on top of cleaning my apartment.”

“No. Grabbed burger you like. On kitchen table. Might be cold.”

You chuckled, “Honey, since when have I cared about the cold?”

A short laugh found its way out of him -- which was even rarer than a smile -- as he let you go, hand resting on the small of your back to lead you to the kitchen. Sure enough, there was a small bag on your table and you could smell the cheap burger from where you stood.

“I love you.” you said, placing a peck on his cheek.

“Love you, too, amare,” he replied, leaning against the kitchen counter as you sat down, fishing the burger out of the bag.

You ate in comfortable silence, the burger tasting like the best food you’d had in weeks, even if it was cold. As you ate, your eyelids grew heavy. What time even was it? It had been late when you left the office, and you’d been planning on going straight to bed before you’d realized Damien was waiting for you. You felt his eyes on you, and you met his gaze.

“Seem tired, my love.” he said, stating the obvious.

“I am tired,” you replied, finishing the burger.

“Should go to bed.”

“I can’t do that, no after you took the time to--”

“Cleaned home because I care. You are human. Need rest. I understand.”

“I just hate that I haven’t had time to see you. I don’t want you to feel neglected.”

He approached you then, crouching to meet you at face level, and placing his hands on either side of your face.

“Never make me feel like that. See your smile when the room is colder. Know you kept the rose I left you. Never once complain when I am gone. Would be unkind to not return the favor.”

You smiled gratefully, leaning into his touch.

“I know,” you said, “I love you a lot, you know that, Darkblood?”

“Of course.”

He stood, scooping you up in his arms with ease.

“Must put you to bed. Look like Hell.”

That got an honest laugh out of you.

He carried you to your bedroom, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes, head resting against his cold chest. You stayed conscious enough to feel your soft mattress under you, and the warmth of your blanket being placed over you. You snuggled into it, this simple, everyday task feeling like the highest luxury.

“What if I called in tomorrow?” you mumbled, sleep beginning to pull you into unconsciousness.

“Would be nice.” your demon replied, carding a clawed hand through your hair, relaxing you even further.

“Yeah...I’ll call in tomorrow…”

“Will be here. Goodnight, my love.”

“G’night.”

Cold lips found their way to your forehead, and you fell into the sweet arms of sleep with a smile on your face -- the first smile you’d had in weeks.

Yeah, your boss could live without you tomorrow.

[archangelsquill]

i finally got my hands on the adventures of buckaroo banzai novelization and once i get the time to read it its all over for you hoes

[archangelsquill]

Yes I re-read my own fics because I wrote them for ME