Free Punches in the face

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

New fic! - “(listen to the) changing breeze”

This one is for my very dear friend karakurakid ‘s birthday today!! Happy birthday darling, I am so glad you were born. Also we shouty-headcanoned this one together quite extensively, so you must thank her for that as well. 

Very fluffy and flirty, here’s a preview: 

look how they shine for you

I find that whenever I’m sad I always gravitate back to this book… The words in the speech bubble(s) are not my own, but instead the lovely Rainbow Rowell’s.

Bonus:

Okay, this is just a partial draft, but I’m gonna go ahead and put it under the read more anyway….

"There was a cat in Elspeth’s room." 

We saw what you did there, Rainbow.

"Professor Benedict taught spell-rhetoric, logic, and mathematics. Baz estimated that half to three quarters of the school had a crush on him and his dark, curly mop of hair, his pale eyes, his positively absurd cheekbones. (The other quarter thought he looked like an alien and just couldn’t see the attraction.) If you caught him in the halls, he tended toward bumbling and absent-mindedness, but in the middle of a lecture he was sharp, his low voice grumbling and sarcastic even. Unusually, his magical instrument was cloth: a dusky purple scarf that he wore at all times, of course."

Draw Me Like One of Your Fangirls

As heir to the distinguished and well-known Pitch family, Tyrannus Basilton Pitch had a lot weighing on his shoulders. Good- no, excellent- grades were expected of him, he headed the Watford Dueling and Amateur Spellmongering club, and he had to keep up the whole not-going-to-drink-human-blood-to-satisfy-the-godawful-thirst thing. He had exams to study for, a new wand-flourish to approve (but probably disapprove, due to the wand flourish being more likely to take someone’s eye out than to actually look good or enhance a spell) and a reputation to keep up. He should be roaming the halls or maybe snogging Agatha again, just to annoy Snow.

Instead, he was sitting on his bed and sneaking glances at his roommate.

No, not sneaking glances, he reassured himself. That would be ridiculous. He saw plenty of Snow, or actually, too much. The annoying git was everywhere, always following him around in order to foil some kind of dastardly plan. Baz always made sure that whenever Snow followed him, he snuck out to the forest and drank from a fluffy bunny rabbit in the goriest way possible. He’d ruined a shirt or six, but at least the muffled gagging sounds were interesting, in a way they really shouldn’t be.

Simon eyed his desk distrustfully. It was just a simple piece of paper, folded over once, but it had not been there before and, therefore, he was wary. He flicked the paper open with the end of his finger, trying to make as little contact as possible.

Hello, Simon.

Started posting a new fic. 

I’ve never posted an in-progress fic before; and I’m pretty much scared to death so it should be a nice, Authentic Fic Author Experience, right?

Yeah, I been workin’ on these for a while, but they’re finally ready to be revealed.

Simon’s rolling up his sleeves and goin’ to work.

There is rabbit fighting:

There is hanging off of cliffs:

There is dueling and football:

There is awkward affection: