#ot3: eiffel tower

[captain-grammar]

Tagged by the AMAZING and double-y talented @goldheartedsky to participate in this writer's ask:

1) How many works do you have on AO3? 22. Because I'm excellent at thinking up ideas and then scaring myself out of writing them. 2) What’s your total AO3 word count? 89,347. Again, I'm AMAZING at psyching myself out of projects.

3) What fandoms do you write for? The bulk of my paltry number of fics are The Old Guard focussed, but I have an ANCIENT, unfinished Stargate: Atlantis fic on there and a snippet of a LOTR/LOTRO piece that will never be completed.

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Codeword Blue, For The First Time, The Slowest Burn, Lost in Translation and Close. Which is kind of amazing because the ship-focus for these is, arguably, not necessarily 'mainstream' in the TOG fan space so I massively appreciate that people rate them!

5) Do you respond to comments? I do! Or I used to, back when I posted something new/regularly. I haven't posted anything for a VERY long time now, and so actively avoid reading any new comments because then I'll feel guilty for not writing, or feel like a fraud.

6) What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I don't really go for angsty, because I tend to just want happy endings for all. I have an unsatisfying cliff-hanger ending to what was supposed to be a two-parter fic (Homewrecker) so I supposed in a parallel universe where people are dying for me to finish it, the fact that it's resolutely NOT complete might be causing some angst?

7) What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? They all have happy endings in one form or another but I think the one that might have the most "aaawwh" factor is maybe I Won't Let You Sink. Any excuse for my boy Booker to get a hug, really.

8) Do you get hate on fics? I don't think so? At least none that I'm aware of! Nobody's leaving me comments or hitting up my DMs, put it that way.

9) Do you write smut? I do. With varying degrees of success, admittedly, but still...

10) Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest one you’ve written? Many moons ago, perhaps, on a long-forgotten fanfiction.net account but nothing I can remember!

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen? Darling, I don't want my fics half the time. Why the hell would anyone else?!

12) have you ever had a fic translated? I have not!

13) have you ever cowritten a fic before? I think I've made plans to with a few people but not followed through. I'm scared of not living up to the hype and letting them down!

14) What’s your all time favorite ship? Honestly? The Ongoing LOTRO Fic I'll Never Finish, featuring my OC and Lothrandir. That Ranger needs a hug, a break and therapy in that order and my elf will give him that.

15) What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? BITCH, THROW A DART AT ANY OF THE 40-ODD DRAFTS IN MY FOLDER AND YOU'RE A WINNER.

16) What are your writing strengths? I'm almost annoyingly descriptive. I can't draw for shit so I'll use words to try and conjure up an image that I could never in a million years manage with a paintbrush.

17) what are your writing weaknesses? My lack of self-belief...

18) thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I'm for it! As I'm not fluent in any other language, I'll keep it to short little snippets, italicised, that I'm confident aren't terrible and won't cause an international incident! I think it can be a nice nod to a character's past, who they are and their heritage.

19) First fandom you wrote for? Again, MANY moons ago and long-forgotten, but Stargate: SG-1 when I was maybe 13?

20) Favorite fic you’ve written? Probably Bloom. I just really like the idea that Booker and Joe's relationship is deep and probably has evolved and developed and fluctuated a LOT over the years and had fun exploring that! (And Goldie's art for it was just phenomenal!)

TAGGING: I honestly don't know who else may have been tagged in something like this already so hey, if you write fic and want to participate, by all means fill your boots!

[chasingfictions]

OT3 BuffyxTaraxFaith. Just Tara being actually happy not manipulated by magic (*coughs* Willow) and then spending every night getting Eiffel towered by her hot gf’s who adore her and treat her like the most precious little flower

tara deserves two hot slayer gfs youre so right . thank god my ask box is like this

[elizabethemerald]

I’ve been reading some Golden Trio fics on AO3, and it’s an interesting shift from Jlaireby with Tales of Arcadia. TOA is such a smaller fandom and Jlaireby is practically a rare pair, I’ve written 5 of the 36 fics in the Jlaireby tag. However in the HP fandom there are over a thousand fics for Harry/Hermione/Ron. I feel like a lot of people who write OT3 stories seem to be into it for something very different than I am. Like so many of the fics are about unhappy marriages, or Harry and Ginny being  incredibly toxic, or all this other nonsense. And that’s not even including all the fics that aren’t tagged as explicit yet still focus on Hermione getting Eiffel Towered. 

Its so weird. Some people get it though. Like these people who have been through so much, and have loved each other through so much, who have fought side by side, saved each other from the brink of death and beyond so many times. I think that’s what I love the most in Jlaireby fics. 

I just wished more people realized Polyamory for me is about love. People who love each other, who have enough love for more than one person, even if every person doesn’t have the same level or kind of attraction to each other, being there for each other. 

Anyways, my random thoughts for the day. 

[jasontoddiefor]

Summary: In all honesty, Hal should have seen it coming. Wally and Dick had already been there when they had started dating. Or: Hal contemplates family in the Wayne-Allen-Jordan household on a chaotic morning.

AN: Bc @amaztim and I have a new OT3 and there are only 2 fanfics so far so I had to fix it.

Hal woke up to screaming. He turned around again in the king-sized bed and pressed his pillow over his head. He was too old to be woken up by fighting children. Or maybe Dick and Wally just hadn’t been quite the terrifying chaotic mess that was Damian and Helen.

After hearing yet another shout on one of Hal’s rare free days damn it, Hal finally got up. Bruce and Barry were nowhere to be seen, but that was nothing new. Barry was stuck on monitor duty and Bruce had traveled to France on Monday, chasing after a lead.

Hal should have taken the offer and gone with him, but no. Someone had to look after the children since everybody was coming over for the weekend. Hal stumbled out of bed with the grace of a hero who had suffered way too many injuries. On his way over to the door, he grabbed a shirt and put it on. It was a little big on him – one of Bruce’s then. He rubbed his eyes and for a split second he contemplated just letting Damian and Helen murder each other for another ten more minutes of sleep.

Then the second was over and Hal threw open the door. Helen and Damian came to a halt right in front of it, both looking appropriately caught.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Damian and Helen shared a look before switching to equally grave expressions.

“We’re fighting for the honor of killing Jason,” Damian explained nonchalantly like he wasn’t holding his training sword to Helen’s neck.

“He committed a serious crime,” Helen added, her glowing nerf-gun construct still aimed at Damian’s forehead.

Hal could still use his ring, go pick up Barry and get into a jet and visit Bruce. Eat some crêpes under the Eiffel tower while Bruce took down his arms dealer. It would be just like those summer months when Wally and Dick, who were the only kids running around the manor back then, went to San Francisco to work with their fellow Teen Titans.

Peace .

Yeah, Hal missed it.

“And what did Jason do?”

“He-“

“HeyguysIfoundthepaintgunsyouaskedfor- oh, fuck.”

Bart came to a stop just a few doors down the hallway, his arms full with paint guns and his shirt basically covered in acrylics. He looked at Damian and Helen, then to Hal and then back to the kids.

“Morning, Hal. I think I’mjustgonnagonowbye.”

“Oh, no!” Hal shouted back. “Don’t you dare run off, Bartholomew! How are you involved in this? And aren’t you supposed to be picking up Tim?”

Hal ignored Damian and Helen snickering at him using the speedster’s full name in favor of acting very intimidating and authoritative while still being dressed in his PJs with deep bags under his eyes.

Bart grinned sheepishly. “I already picked him up. I left him downstairs with Duke and Kyle. He sort of fell asleep on me on our way back home.”

“Kyle’s here?”

Bart shrugged. “He said something about dropping off an artifact, but Jason’s making pancakes for breakfast so he stayed.”

Hal pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. How did the saying go again? Kids are the future? Someone obviously forgot to attach the ‘because they’ll run you into an early grave’. France. Watchtower monitor duty.

“And if Jason’s making breakfast, why aren’t the three of you downstairs eating?”

“Because Jason threw us out of the kitchen,” Helen said. “We were interrupting his ‘workflow’ so he banned us! Uncle Hal, do you see now what terrible offense he has committed?”

Beside her, Damian nodded and once again raised his sword. “The evil has to be defeated.”

Hal had calmed down considerably since he had first become Earth’s Green Lantern. He didn’t rush into battle anymore, he had seen too many of his friends and comrades die. He had been dead, and been dealt an even worse fate for a while, and he had lowered both his lovers and his children into the ground at least once. No, Hal didn’t rush into war anymore and he carefully picked his battle nowadays.

This one he wasn’t going to fight.

“No maiming each other anymore,” Hal said and watched as three faces lit up with identical expressions of delight. “The house is off-limits for everything concerning paint, or you’re answering to Alfred. Outside of the manor, Gotham, Central and Coast are fair game, but not on patrol. Got it?”

“Got it!” They replied and rushed off in the opposite direction, jumping hopefully not straight into a loophole Hal had forgotten to cover. Either way, they were not Hal’s problem anymore. If they made a mess now, that weight would be on their shoulders, and they only had themselves to blame if Alfred’s cold disapproval would make them do chores until they turned eighteen.

Hal checked his watch. It was almost twelve. Jason had come to the manor late, and if he was making breakfast for everybody, he certainly wouldn’t be done yet. Hal made his way downstairs to the kitchen, passing the living room while he was at it.

Duke was playing a game on his Switch while Cassandra and Kyle were talking animatedly about whatever drawing Kyle was showing her.

And Tim was lying on the ground, his head resting on Titus’s body.

“Please tell me he decided to sleep there,” Hal said, already knowing the answer.

“Uuh,” Duke decidedly did not look up from his console while Cass just raised a brow.

When had they all become so sassy? Hal recalled their first weeks at the manor as if they had been just yesterday. Both of them had been so unsure and careful with everybody.

“Just put your brother on a sofa at least if nobody feels responsible for getting him in his room.”

Cass smiled at him and gave him a thumbs-up, but didn’t move from her spot. Right, why had he even bothered asking?

Next time, he’d let Barry and Bruce handle the weekend meet-ups. Hal had done the single-parent thing for a year, and it hadn’t been any fun having to be strong for so many grieving children. The least his partners could do was cover the family weekends until they actually died of old age.

The closer Hal got to the kitchen, the louder did the music in the hallway get. Today Jason had decided on classical tunes apparently, or as classic as Jason got. Hal wasn’t even sure where Jason found so many classic instrument covers of current songs, and he’d rather face Parallax than even suggest to Jason that he was recording his own violin plays, but fact was that Barry had found the corresponding scores in Jason’s bag once.

Jason was flipping another pancake when Hal entered the kitchen. The room was neat and orderly still, except for the side of the table Wally and Dick were sitting at. That part of the table was covered in Nutella, sprinkles, gummy worms, chocolate sauce, and fruits.

“Mo’nin’,” Dick greeted, his mouth stuffed with a pancake. Next to him, Wally only raised his hand and didn’t even stop inhaling his share.

“Good morning, boys,” Hal returned and sat down opposite from the duo.

“Slept well, old man?” Jason asked and put a plate with warm an delicious breakfast in front of him.

“I thought Bruce was the old man.”

Jason waved Hal’s comment off and took another gulp from his cup of coffee. “You’re all old, but only you are here this morning. You got any plans for today?”

Hal sneaked a look at the two oldest and, yes, Wally and Dick looked equally mischievously. Fourteen or twenty-four, was there really any difference with them?

“I’m not teaming up with you against the kiddos for Cluedo.”

“Why not?” Wally asked. “This week’s price is deciding the Thanksgiving dinner. Hal, please. We need to win. I need that turkey and Damian will do his best to stop it.”

Hal bit off another piece of his pancake. Out of all of them, minus Alfred of course, Jason could cook the best. If Jason willingly made anything for you, you accepted without hesitance, which was precisely why Hal stole another pancake before he replied.

“I know, which is why Barry, Bruce, and I are working against the rest of you. We’re not eating candied apples for dessert again or tofu turkey or any other monstrosity you kids come up with every year. This year it’s adults against the rest of you. May the better team win.”

Silence followed Hal’s statement before the kitchen’s other three occupants began to complain loudly. Hal could only grin. Okay, yes, this was better than the Watchtower or France.

“Jason! Come out and face us, you coward!”

Even if it came with the possibility of a hospital visit.

[edwardashley]

despite that last post i actually like Ot3 Getrude/Mary/Eric and i think Eric and Mary should eiffel tower G-[another gunshot noise]

[titleleaf]

lost boys, david/michael/star

I’m just saying, this OT3 is destined for an Eiffel tower with Michael in the middle. I’m really put off by how a lot of three-way sex is depicted in visual media -- that super choreographed, languid, Skinemax style of cinematography and blocking -- but it is CANONICAL in the universe of The Lost Boys that all sex scenes are shot like 80s music videos, so when Michael, David, and Star all fuck it’s while lightning flashes and spectral breezes rip over their naked bodies while synthesizers thrum and there’s lots of chiaroscuro shots of hands clasping hands with fingers lacing and legs intertwining and people gazing at each other’s faces intensely. They wake up the morning after wrapped in a big piece of hippie cloth tapestry that covers only junk and not butts.  

[callunavulgari]

Year-In-Fic | 2018

How many fics did you write this year? What was your total wordcount? This year I wrote... 12 fics. Bit of a letdown, really, but I mean. I didn’t write much. I wrote what I did whenever a plot bunny really seized hold of me, but I didn’t go out of my way to write this year. Which is sad. But I mean, shit happens. 55,519 words, which isn’t completely terrible for 12 fics. It helps that a couple of them were in the 8-9k range.

Fic Roundup!

Everybody’s Looking For Something | Stranger Things | Steve/Billy | 4,790 words | On the third weekend of May during their last year at Hawkins High, Steve Harrington throws a party.Billy crashes it.

taste you on my tongue | Stranger Things | Steve/Billy | 2,290 words | “You’ve never felt pleasure like it, Steve,” an old girlfriend had told him once, her eyes bright with memory. Steve shrugged. “No vampires here, though.”

Home | Star Wars | Reylo | 1,670 words | “Rey,” he says into the quiet. “Just drive.”

hits like a drum | Stargate Atlantis | Mcshep | 3,507 words | “Believe it or not, having something with sharp teeth breathing down your neck is not actually conducive to one’s thought process.” John barks out a loud, abrupt noise that might be laughter, his breath tickling the hairs at the base of Rodney’s neck. “I’d have thought it would be good motivation.”

feed the hunger | Stranger Things | Steve/Billy | 1,792 words | “Thought you wanted to fuck me, Hargrove,” Steve whispers, and presses a sweet kiss to the hinge of Billy’s jaw. “Now’s your chance.”

Apotheosis | Marvel - INFINITY WAR | Thor/Loki, Steve/Pepper/Tony | 4,450 words | Grief, a story told in three parts.

and i’m always tired, but never of you | The Bright Sessions | Sam/Damien/Mark | 10,405 words | Sam runs into Damien at the grocery store two years later. It changes everything.

tides will bring me back to you | Kingdom Hearts | Axel/Roxas | 7,383 words | When Axel was sixteen, he did something stupid. 

Smallest Light | Stranger Things | Gen, El & Will | 5,165 words | In the summer of 1986, Will’s mom marries Jim Hopper. OR, Will and El learn how to be real people again together.

i don’t want to rest in peace, we can haunt each other’s dreams | EOS 10 | Ryan/Akmazian | 1,520 words |  In the dream, Ryan wakes up and Akmazian is there.

Looking For Atlantis | SGA | Mcshep | 4,632 words | Hey Rodney, the postcard reads. Go see a movie.

keep your heart open (i’ll keep mine open too) | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 7,915 words | “Did you even like me before you found out I was your soulmate?” Billy murmurs as he kisses a line down Steve’s throat.

Best story I wrote this year: and i’m always tired, but never of you. It was that one fic that I wrote because I just couldn’t stand the idea of Mark, Sam, and Damien not having a happy ending. Because I realized there was no poly fic for them on ao3 and I thought that was a travesty. So I wrote 10k in like two days and it’s soft and sweet and the happy ending that I wanted to see, so I freaking wrote it.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest. Honestly?  Home. It’s only 1600 words, and it’s Reylo, which I wasn’t even feeling that much this year, but it’s just the story that I set out to write. The night that I wrote it I’d had the shittiest day at work and came home wanting to write about someone being angry and sad and driving really fast. Originally I think I’d been planning on the story being Harringrove, but modern day Skywalkers just kind of spilled out of me.

Okay, NOW your most popular story. feed the hunger, my harringrove fic that I wanted to write the entire time I was in South Carolina, where Steve is a little bit messy and he and Billy fuck around for a bit and catch feelings comes in first with 339 kudos and 2731 hits, but taste you on my tongue, my harringrove vampire au technically beats it in the bookmarks department. Story of mine most underappreciated by the universe, in my opinion: Yeah, probably Home. I’m always a little bummed when the stories that I like the most don’t get much attention, but well, I mean. It’s a modern day Reylo fic that I wrote a while after The Last Jedi craze settled down, so it’s whatever. 

Most fun story to write: Definitely and i’m always tired, but never of you. It was so much fun to write and was so freaking easy too. Every line flowed smoothly. Even the editing didn’t trip me up much. 

Story that could have been better? hits like a drum was the wraith!John AU that I had such a hard time with last year. It was supposed to be at least another 5 or 6k and feature John coming to Rodney’s rescue and becoming slowly integrated into Atlantis. It was supposed to work it’s way into something smart and plotty, and yes, eventually Rodney would have gotten to smooch the wraith. But I hit a snag and never really recovered, so I just cleaned it up and posted it as is.

Story I wrote to fix things: Technically Apotheosis, and i’m always tired, but never of you, and i don’t want to rest in peace, we can haunt each other’s dreams were all written as fix-it fics in their own way. Apotheosis was my way of dealing with Infinity War and featured Thor, Steve, and Tony dreaming about people they lost. Bright Sessions domestic poly fic was written because I wanted Damien to have some semblance of happy ending, preferably with Mark, and that last one with the super long title was written because I was trying to cope with EOS 10. Technically it wasn’t a fix-it because nothing was really fixed, but it helped fix me.

Longest completed fic this year: and i’m always tired, but never of you. Just over 10k, it’s definitely my longest this year.

Fandom you enjoyed writing for most this year: I wrote a decent chunk of Stranger Things this year and had fun with all of them, but I still think the most fun I had was with the Bright Sessions fic.

Favorite character you wrote this year: I actually really liked writing Will and El in Smallest Light. I got kind of stuck halfway into that fic, so it wasn’t always the smoothest, but Will and El were both very strange and good to write.

Most memorable comment this year: So, keep your heart open (i’ll keep mine open too) was my entry for the harringrove secret santa and I recently got a comment from my giftee that was just, the best thing to wake up to ever. I haven’t gotten the chance to reply yet, mostly because I have been ridiculously busy, but it was such a long, thorough comment and I’m just so glad they appreciated it.

Additionally, the same fic also produced a comment that started with “My Sterek bitch!!” and it just fucking tickled the hell out of me.

Fics you wanted to write but didn’t: I think I’m going to have to give up on writing the Sabriel AU. I mean, unless the Episode 9 comes out and blows me out of the water, I’m not hopeful. The Last Jedi jossed too much, even in an AU, and it made things a little complicated to move forward. I still need to finish that fic where John dies and Rodney ends up raising his daughter, and the Enjolras/Grantaire fic, and the giant Dishonored fic that I still desperately want to write. The bodyswapping Reylo, the girl Cisco AU, the Sterek Bioshock Infinite AU, the dozens of other Sterek fics that I started two or three years ago and never finished, including the Carmilla AU.

More recently, I’ve got a Castlevania OT3 fic that I’ve been working on and a different flavor of Harringrove soulmate AU that wasn’t angsty enough to be my entry for the secret santa. I have the giant canon-divergent Bright Sessions AU where years after the series ends, Mark ends up running into Damien again in a small town in the middle of nowhere only to realize that he has a daughter, a farm, a life, and is just so drawn to it that he keeps coming back. I have the Wolf 359 post-canon fic where everyone has feelings and found family is a general theme and maybe Eiffel smooches an AI. I also have the smuttier Wolf 359 fic that’s been lurking in the back of my head for months where Eiffel and Kepler er, basically eiffel tower Jacobi. 

Oh, and I have the Reylo fic where Rey (and Ben, through the bond) sit through General Organa’s funeral and keep coming back to each other afterwards. And shit, I also started that Final Fantasy 15 fic where Dino and Noctis do the nasty.

Oddest story: Probably hits like a drum. I know Atlantis fics are weird, but John as a wraith is something that I hadn’t seen before. Hardest story to do: I think the only finished fic that gave me any resistance was Smallest Light, which probably wouldn’t have ever been finished if I didn’t go back and fill in the gaps with El’s part. Easiest story to write? I mean, most of these were easy. See, when you only write when you really feel the pull of something, it all comes easy. The Bright Sessions poly fic was the easiest, but all of the Harringrove ones were easy too.

Most mining of your own history in one story: Weirdly enough, tides will bring me back to you. Yeah, the story about the man-eating merman. The graffiti on the side of Axel’s building was a guy who tagged all over our neighborhood. The mermaid statue was my grandmother’s. Axel’s cat is basically my cat, but she’s been cleverly disguised because I called her gray once in the story. And like, that’s kind of it? I mean, the cove is something I came up with, but it’s heavily based on the years I spent at the beach. 

Themes, or absence thereof: Atmosphere, mostly. Want. Need. Daddy issues and forever kind of loves. Soft. Where did you publish/archive your stories? Ao3, as per usual. Story I haven’t yet written, but intend to: I want to write a few things in the new year, but mostly I want to write that Dishonored fic and a couple original stories that have been percolating in my brain for a year or two.

Sexiest moment (excerpt): “Damien,” Mark breathes against his lips, and pulls back to suck a bruise into the side of Damien’s neck.

“Please,” Damien is saying, high and needy, and doesn’t know what he’s asking for, just knows that he’s desperate to have it. He slides his fingers into Mark’s hair and gives it an insistent tug, mouthing sloppily at the corner of his jaw. He spreads his thighs wider. “Please, please, please.”

“Yes,” Mark hisses, and hauls him in for a deeper kiss, yanking Damien into him until they’re so close that Damien can feel him everywhere. Mark presses against him, the weight of him settling between Damien’s spread thighs. He gives Damien a hot look and rocks their hips together. Damien makes another tiny noise, his head tilted back, mouth open. It’s probably an embarrassing sound. Mark gets his teeth on his throat, and Damien stops caring.

From very far away, he becomes aware of a door opening somewhere, but it’s so far down on his current list of priorities that he doesn’t even register why this could be a problem until he hears Sam’s voice. Damien swallows around a gasp, his glassy eyes refocusing. She’s standing about a foot or so away in the open doorway, a startled flush on her cheeks, her hair windswept. There’s a package in her arms. She arches an eyebrow in Mark’s direction.

Mark, who still hasn’t pulled away from Damien, whose teeth are still working another mark into the fragile skin at the join of his shoulder and throat. Damien swallows hard and has to close his eyes and fight down a whimper when Mark, still distracted, grinds their hips together.

“Slow, huh, Mark?” Sam asks, setting the package and her keys down on the table next to her.

Mark winces at her voice and pulls back ever so slightly, just enough to free up his mouth, not enough to drag them away from the heat of each other’s bodies. He doesn’t seem surprised enough. Doesn’t even seem to care that his girlfriend just caught them necking in her apartment. He just grins at her, helpless and a little flushed, his lips red and wet, and says, “Sorry, Sam.”

.

Ryan bites down on a smile, and takes another daring step forward. “Do you have standards?”

Akmazian blinks, then groans, slumping back against the desk. He looks at Ryan, and while there’s a hint of good humor, there’s also something else. Resignation, maybe. Disappointment. He laughs it off, flicking his cloak to the side, a sardonic little grin on his face, but it’s there.

“You know me, darlin’,” he says, and it sounds like a joke, but it rings true. Ryan does know him. He knows Akmazian - knows that he’s good down to the heavy muscle of his heart, knows that he’s been dealt a shitty hand in life and that he’d live that shit all over again to have the world know the truth.

Ryan knows him. Maybe that’s why he does it.

Akmazian makes a lovely, startled little noise in the back of his throat when Ryan takes both hands and draws Akmazian down to meet him, his fingers sliding into the spaces where his jaw’s gone slack. He strokes there, hesitantly, with his thumbs, and when he tugs Akmazian forward those last few inches, he is utterly sure of what he wants.

Akmazian’s lips are dry and a little chapped, but they’re plush and part easily around a groan when Ryan takes the kiss deeper, makes it a little wetter, a little more wanting. The room is quiet around them, this little echoing piece of space that is theirs alone. He can hear his own breathing, soft but steady, and Akmazian’s over that, just a little uneven. He lets out a quiet groan as his entire body relaxes into the kiss, slumping forward into Akmazian’s arms, pressing closer until they’re both half on, half off of the desk. He kisses slow and deep and a little bit sloppy, until his lips feel bruised and wet. His eyes drift closed and when Akmazian lets out a soft murmur, Ryan tips his head back to make room for Akmazian’s mouth on his throat.

He can be greedy for this, Ryan thinks as Akmazian leaves a trail of kisses up the length of his throat. He’s allowed to want this.

When he pulls back, Akmazian is looking at him with faint wonder. His hand reaches out to touch the curve of Ryan’s cheek.

“Darlin’,” he breathes, and swallows hard around the words that might have come next.

Crackiest moment (excerpt): He makes it to the last showing of Aquaman twenty minutes late, which fortunately for him means that after collecting his popcorn and slushie from the surly looking teenager manning the concession stand, he walks into the theater just as the movie is starting.

It isn’t a full theater by any means. A group college students take up a couple of the middle rows, only recognizable by their colorful array of hairstyles and the semi-permanent air of exhaustion that lingers around them like some kind of miasma. There’s an older gentlemen near the back noisily slurping a fountain drink who looks as if he hasn’t been out of the house since the 90’s. And then there’s a couple kids who look about twelve snickering and throwing popcorn at each other in the top most row.

Rodney chooses one of the first rows he sees, not necessarily because he’s enamored with the idea of being so close to the screen, but because he doesn’t want to be anywhere near the crossfire when those kids realize that there are other targets in the theater besides their friends. With a heavy sigh, he collapses onto an off-colored seat cushion that he thinks may have been mauve in a former life. The whole thing creaks alarmingly under him, and he spends a good thirty seconds arranging himself so that the arms aren’t pinching uncomfortably at his waistband.

The movie isn’t horrible, much to his surprise. It’s not great, but it’s moderately engaging, and has two relatively attractive human beings gracing the screen ninety percent of the time. It’s engaging enough that he barely notices when the twelve year olds incite a some kind of farting competition amongst themselves that a couple of the college kids decide that it’s in their best interest to escalate. He’s still half asleep in his popcorn, but staring mindlessly into a bright rectangle helps.

Maybe half an hour into the movie he notices someone slinking into the theater out of the corner of his eye, but is too invested in licking the salt and butter off of his fingers to really notice. If they want to movie hop, then whatever. Props to them. He does notice at least a little bit when they take the seat directly behind him.

Then the guy starts kicking the back of his chair.

It isn’t a constant thing. The first kick Rodney writes off as an accident. Everyone does it at some point, especially with seats as small as these. He’s probably just rearranging, and then he’ll lay off. The second and the third time? Okay, whatever. Annoying, but ultimately not worth starting something over.But the guy just keeps doing it. Every five to ten minutes, like clockwork, just as the action is starting to ramp up on screen, his knees will dig into the back of Rodney’s chair. Or his heels will scrabble against the arm rests, like he’s trying to put his feet up on Rodney’s chair. And okay, nobody has ever called Rodney patient. Nobody ever will call Rodney patient. The very idea is laughable.

He’s grinding his teeth, this close to snapping, when he hears the guy lean forward in his seat, close enough that Rodney can feel his breath on the back of his neck. The guy breathes a little loudly for a moment, and then he says, “That guy kind of looks like Ronon, don’t you think?”

Favorite dialogue (excerpt): In the dream, Loki smiles at him. They’re on Asgard, in what were once Loki’s quarters. His body reclines loosely across a chaise that he had favored, one knee hooked over the arm. As Thor watches, he stretches - a languid, rippling motion that seems to start from his toes and end in his shoulders.

“Brother,” he says in welcome, his face open and content.

“You mean to torture me,” Thor says dully, licking his chapped lips.

Loki’s face crumples, the beatific smile going dim. The sunlight coming in through the windows behind him is all Asgard, golden and warm. If he touched Loki now, he thinks he would feel an echo of that warmth, the heat of it having seeped into Loki’s shoulders and back.

At last, Loki says, “You torture yourself, Thor.”

“Only because you are not here to do it for me,” Thor replies, taking a step forward as if pulled in by some great, magnetic force.

Loki sighs, his dangling leg swinging in idle irritation. “Perhaps I am here, truly. Would it be so hard to imagine that a piece of me lives on within you?”

“No,” Thor whispers, and feels a tear drip down his cheek. “It would not. I have always held you here, in my heart.”

Loki looks at him, all the mirth gone from his face. “You cradled my body when I was gone. You pulled me close and waited for that explosion. You were to die, with me. With our people. You meant to. The last of the Aesir.”

Thor reaches the chaise, and sinks to his knees before him. Loki touches him gently, cool fingertips tracing his face from temple to jaw.

“Tell me, brother,” Loki asks him softly. “When you woke, did it pain you? Did you look for me? For my corpse?”

“Yes,” Thor tells him. He had woken disoriented, surrounded by strangers, the memory of rage lighting him up from the inside out, the ghost of Loki’s touch still against him. He’d thought of vengeance, of a burial that he would never have, and he had hurt. He’d gone chasing after death, and hoped it would take him.

He’d told the rabbit that he had nothing left to lose. It turned out that he was wrong. There was always more left to lose.He chokes on a sob, and Loki shushes him.

“You will do this, brother. I know you will.” The corners of Loki’s lips quirk upwards into an impossible smile. Perfect in its replication. “You and Stark, your Avengers. You will beat Thanos.”

Loki’s smile goes sadder, and he touches Thor the way that Thor used to touch him, a hand reaching out to clasp the hinge of Thor's jaw, thumb stroking his cheek. “You don’t know how to lose, Thor. You never did.”

“And if I can’t bring you back?”

Loki shrugs. “Then you dream of me. Whenever you think to miss me.”

Thor chokes on a watery laugh. “I will always be dreaming of you, then.”

One last touch. A kiss, light as a feather, first to his brow and then to his lips. A tear slips from Loki’s chin and lands on Thor’s cheek. Loki is still smiling, his eyes wet. “Then, I will welcome your company.”

Favorite lines (excerpt):

Damien is wearing dark jeans, and though there are holes at the knees, they seem to be of the ‘artfully distressed’ sort rather than the too-lazy-to-patch-up variety. He’s got a decent jacket hugging his shoulders, and under that, she’s pretty sure she spies a Nirvana shirt. His shaggy hair is pulled back into a half-assed bun and there’s a day or two worth of stubble clinging to his jaw, but he looks okay. Good. A little too grunge to be on this side of the millenium, and hopelessly confused by the third bag of chicken nuggets he’s picked up, but good.

She bites her lip, and considers her options.

Two years ago, she’d be hightailing it out of this grocery store as quickly as possible, packing Mark into the nearest suitcase, and skipping town to go find backup. But for some reason, she doesn’t think that Damien’s followed them here. More likely, is that they accidentally followed him here.

Before she has the chance to second-guess herself, Sam takes a deep breath and strides firmly into the aisle, shopping basket swaying at her side. She comes to a stop right beside him, and for a moment, he doesn’t seem to notice her. He’s squinting at the nutrition facts on another bag of chicken nuggets. There's ramen and a pack of energy drinks in his basket.

“Those probably aren’t great for you,” she tells him, wrinkling her nose.

“Did I ask you?” Damien sing-songs, still not looking away from the nuggets. He hmphs at it, and muses, possibly to himself, “A hundred and seventy calories for five pieces. Not bad.”

“Yeah, but how much of that is actually chicken?”

Damien blinks, and tears his eyes away from the bag. He looks up at her, his face stuck in an expression that seems to be at least two-thirds disdain, the rest of it being absolute incredulity, as if he’s appalled that some stranger in the grocery store is insisting on lecturing him about his taste in chicken nuggets - which, fair. Because Sam’s looking for it, she can pinpoint the exact moment that he places her, his eyes going ever so slightly wider. He blinks and shuffles backwards half a step, and then the surprise is gone, leaving behind a smooth mask of general douchebaggery. She remembers that mask - the slimy smirk and the too-cool-for-you-slouch.

He leans against the freezer door, and regards her coolly.

Apathetic. Smooth. Unphased.

Yeah, right.

“Saaaaaaam,” he drawls, eying her up and down. One sharp eyebrow quirks upwards, his gaze lingering on the Care Bear t-shirt that she’d thrown on over the tattered, holey tanktop she’d worn to bed the night before. The t-shirt is just as old and worn as the tank top is, and she immediately has to struggle against the urge to check herself for pizza stains. After all, it’s not like the shirt was exactly clean when she’d grabbed it out of the laundry pile. It was just the best looking of the bunch.

She wasn’t actually supposed to run into people that she knew at the freaking grocery store. And definitely not on laundry day. That was just rude.

The smirk ticks ever higher. Damien nods at her shirt. “Cute.”

Sam flexes her fingers, and wonders with an idle sort of curiosity if it would be worth the pain to punch him again. No. Fuck that. Two can play at this game.

“I thought so,” she says with an indifferent shrug and a chipper little smile.

(or)

Do you miss him, she thinks, and has to bite down hard on her lip to keep the question from slipping out. God, how stupid. He’s all pathetic and droopy now, of course he misses Mark. He takes a deep breath, and she watches him pull himself back together. It’s not a very convincing charade, but she lets him have it.

“Anyway,” he says brightly, and pushes off of the freezer. “Things to do, puppies to terrorize, you know the deal.”

He looks at her with that same careful consideration she’d given him a moment ago, and makes his face do something that she thinks is supposed to be an amiable smile. It mostly just looks like he’s trying too hard.

He holds out his hand. “Sam.”

Reluctantly, she takes it. His hand is chilly and a little damp, but he has a surprisingly strong grip. “Damien.”

The grin that he flashes her is still just this side of wrong, too showy, not enough mean.

“It’s been real, but I gotta go.” Damien hesitates, and just when she thinks he’s gonna let it go, he leans in and brushes a careful kiss to her cheek. His lips are warm. They linger for a moment over the swell of her cheekbone, and she wonders why that is. If it’s because of Mark, or her, or the sheer unexpected delight of human contact. When he pulls back, there’s a flush of red across his cheeks, and an unsure, painfully earnest smile on his lips.

His voice is soft, tellingly so when he murmurs, “Give Mark my love, okay?”

Sam swallows, her heart thundering in her chest. And, because she’s still caught off guard, she smiles back, and says, “Okay.”

(or)

“I swear to god, Ben-”

Ben sighs heavily, laying an arm down on the rest between them. He turns to her, and for the first time all day, he really looks. Her hair is frizzing where its come loose from her bun, and there’s engine oil beneath her fingernails. Her dress, modest enough when standing, is riding up her thighs, the cut scandalously short for a funeral. He would bet money that she didn’t pick it out herself.

Her eyes scald him - all the anger and accusation that he’s been avoiding for the last few years narrowed down to a single point. Her brow is pulled tight into a frown and she- she’s itching for this. He knows she is, because even if he hasn’t seen her in six years, Ben grew up alongside of her. He’d been there for her early years, when just keeping her from running was hard enough.

He’d chased her across state lines, kept her from hopping busses, dragged her kicking and screaming to return every stolen car.

He knew the fire in her. He had it, too.

And he knew that it was burning.

“Rey,” he says into the quiet. “Just drive.”

She bares her teeth again, lip curled into an effortless, vicious snarl. Her eyes narrow. Around them, the car hums with power. It sounds as angry as she does.

“You’ll regret that,” she warns, and when he says nothing, she makes a quiet irritated noise and slams the car into reverse, peeling explosively out of the lot. Dust clouds the road behind them. He can smell the burning rubber.

Fic goals: I did absolutely none of the goals I set last year. Nothing novel length, nothing original, very few original characters, and I almost made it to 60k, but not quite. My only goal for next year is to write something that’s all mine. That’s it, Heather. Write a story, make it yours.

[dorsetti]

marc, i feel like.. the days of aalbert and laarex are quite behind and over with. but consider this new ot3 that now you will suffer through because karma happens to people later in life too: joe/robert/aaron. imagine rob and joe trying to outdo each other to please aaron and shower him with love. ofc, it would start as a hate feud but later on.. u kno it

This OT3 wouldn’t exist because Robert would kill Joe. He’d lure him to Wylie’s and knowingly push him through the rickety floorboards. He’d kill the bitch, if you will.Aalbert is the only OT3 that could exist because neither Aaron and Robert feel strongly about Alex and Dr. Al’s just happy to get Eiffel Towered by them.

[captain-grammar]

MY TOP 5 MOST POPULAR FICS IN 2021

For me, 2021 was The Year of The Old Guard fics. I hopped aboard the good ship Kaysanovre (aka The Eiffel Tower) and fully indulged myself with several thousands of words on the subject.

5. The Slowest Burn (1k words, Joe/Nicky/Booker, pre-canon) When Andromache first met Sebastien le Livre, she knew Nicolo and Yusuf would both be in trouble. What she hadn’t counted on was just how long it would take them all to come to the same conclusion.

4. Homewrecker (2k, Joe/Nicky/Booker, AU) [incomplete] When it's revealed that the school's two favourite teachers are married, the reaction of the students is better than Mr Kaysani and Mr Di Genova could have imagined.

How would it land if they found out about a third party...?"

3. Close (2k, Booker/Nicky-centric, post-canon, NSFW) Perhaps it was the novelty of sleeping next to both of them - still quite an unfamiliar experience – that heightened Booker’s awareness. Perhaps that’s why Joe’s early rising, quiet though he was, had roused him. Not fully awake but further out of sleep than in, he’d heard the click of a door quietly close and instinctively reached an arm out left to the eldest immortal’s side, finding nothing but a hollow where his body had been, still warm to the touch. Thankfully, the arm across his waist and the body pressed against his back indicated he was still far from alone...

2. Codeword Blue (2k, Joe/Nicky/Booker, post-canon, M) Andy could only eat berries and grapes in even numbers. Quynh slept lying on her right side with a lamp left on. Joe liked to jog first thing in the morning, just as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon. Nicky could disassemble then put his rifle back together with his eyes closed. Booker listened to Clair De Lune on days when he felt overwhelmed. Nile thought she noticed everything, including all the strange, intimate details of her new family. As pathologically observant as she was, she very nearly missed a new, more profound development with the people she called home.

1. For The First Time (8k, Joe/Nicky/Booker, pre-canon, NSFW) “What was wrong?... You seemed… Preoccupied?” Sébastien sighed, tearing his eyes from Yusuf’s hands and back to his face. “Did I?” His companion nodded briefly, casting a quick look back at Sébastien, locking eyes for a fleeting moment before quickly diverting his attention back to his work. “You did. After I took Nicolò’s hand, it seemed like we lost you.” Sébastien said nothing. He felt the heat of shame rising in his face, burning in his cheeks, averting his gaze. Yusuf continued working the knot, feeling the silken fabric begin to loosen. “You know how we feel about you, ‘Bas,” Yusuf was reassuring. “Don’t you...?”

[v-as-in-victor]

Leverage ot3: "But WHY do we have to go?"

“Just move,” Eliot said through clenched teeth.

Hardison wasn’t saying anything. His silence conveyed enough. 

Eliot glanced down as uniformed men with semi-automatic weapons ran up the metal steps toward them.

“We gotta go, now!” he said, elbowing Parker in the ribs.

Parker took one more look out over the romantic lights of Paris and kicked out to rappel off the side of the Eiffel Tower.

[ao3feed-thefoxholecourt]

[Podfic] Forehead kisses

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/dxv2hQE

by youhaveahomeinmyheart (CharmingRays)

“Either pine more quietly or ask him,” Andrew says abruptly, pushing off the wall and strolling across to survey the frankly obscene array of cut fruit Matt is laying out on a platter as they wait for Neil to join them for their weekly sparring practice. He’s tired of watching this train wreck. It ceased to be interesting when he realised Boyd didn’t have the guts to ever do anything about his Eiffel tower sized crush on Andrew’s boyfriend but was also in deep enough that he wasn’t about to get over it in this lifetime without assistance.

Or Matt has what he thinks is the most ill advised unrequited crush on his two best friends in the history of ever. It’s a good thing Andrew’s used to dealing with idiots.

PODFIC

Words: 41, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Matt Boyd, Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten

Relationships: Matt Boyd/Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Matt Boyd/Neil Josten, Matt Boyd/Andrew Minyard

Additional Tags: Mandriel, Post-Canon, OT3, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, because why pick one when you can have both?, Established Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Rare Pairings, Making Out, AFTG Winter Exchange 2021, Podfic, Podfic Length: 20-30 Minutes

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/dxv2hQE

[ao3feed-joenicky]

by clockworksilence

A moodboard for an under-construction AU fic...

Words: 299, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Booker | Sebastien le Livre

Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova, Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Booker | Sebastien le Livre & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani

Additional Tags: Photoset, moodboard, image, booker/joe/nicky - Freeform, tog - Freeform, Edit, fics under construction, coming soon..., Art, art world, ot3: eiffel tower, Fan Art, Fan Edit, ish, inspo y'all, Blurb