LoyaltyHonorAWillingHeart

Aziraphale: Crowley got drunk and tried to destroy our marriage certificate.

Aziraphale: He said, “good luck trying to return me without the receipt”.

William Shakespeare: Where dick jokes meet feels. Recycles old plots that have been in the fandom for years, but always manages to put a new spin on it. That said, he’s better known for good character writing than good plots. Kind of problematic, but people love him anyway. Laughs at and encourages commenters who completely miss the point of his work.

The Brontë Sisters: Their fics get lots of comments but they never reply. They never leave author notes, either. They share an account, and there are talks of a collab fic coming soon. Write fics for OTPs of questionable healthiness and consent. Only ever write darkfic. Like, REALLY dark. …People are getting kind of worried about them.

Edgar Allan Poe: Also only ever writes darkfic, but at this point, people have moved past being worried about him and have just accepted that he’s weird, he’s morbid, and we love him. Channels his feelings about his ex into his writing. It results in really good stories but everyone’s sort of like, “…Dude.”

Charles Dickens: Trying to set the record for highest wordcount on ao3, and it shows.

Victor Hugo: Currently holds the record for highest wordcount on ao3.

Oscar Wilde: Only ever writes M/M. Has a BAD case of purple prose, but it’s worth it if you manage to get through. His stories are either hilarious or soul-crushing. Or somehow both. People love him but know better than to disagree with him publicly, lest he destroy you with one of his infamous subtweets.

L. Frank Baum: Wrote one really well-loved story that’s among the most famous in the fandom, and it’s literally all he’s known for, and it pisses him off. His popular story became a multichap against his will because it’s the only one of his stories anyone actually reads. He keeps trying to end it so he can work on other things, but always ends up coming back.

Arthur Conan Doyle: Feels L. Frank Baum’s pain. SO much.

James Joyce: Has fascinating ideas, but takes forEVER to get to the point in his stories. Also a stoner, and it shows.

Lousia May Alcott: Writes stories for her unpopular OTP (that’s a NOTP for most of the fandom) and breaks up everyone’s favorite ships, mainly out of spite. Also kills everyone’s favorite characters, less so out of spite.

some SuitPerson: haha well you know - thank God it’s FRIDAY amiright!!!!!!

me, who works the next three days and has entirely lost the concept of weekends as a time for rest and relaxation:

OH NO I HAVE MADE A TERRIBLE TERRIBLE MISTAKE.

(In which Darth Stitch admits that she has never seen Pride and Prejudice but is aware of the Colin Firth Mr. Darcy Thing™ through the power of Pop Culture Osmosis. So she Googled “Colin Firth Mr Darcy” and has turned her Fuzzy Blue Self into a Puddle of Squee.)

WHAT HAVE I DONE TO MYSELF??!!!

In 2016, Steve Rogers rubs his face and drags himself into the kitchen before heading out to search the city — the cooling trail — again. He drops his plate into the sink. There’s already some other things in there. He’ll get to them later, probably. When he has time. It doesn’t really matter.

He turns to go.