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AUcember 2018 Masterpost
AUcember is an annual challenge that I do every year where I try to write a new AU every day in the month of December.
This year’s 31 fics included stories about: The Adventure Zone, ars Paradoxica, Campaign (Skyjacks), Campaign (Star Wars), Critical Role, Greater Boston, NeoScum, Sugar Pine 7, and Wolf 359. You can find individual links to each fic both on Tumblr on Ao3 below, sorted by fandom.
Read the collection on Ao3
Read the collection on Tumblr
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FIC: i’ll be there next time
Leenik smiles. “You wanna do resolutions?” (A story about New Years, surprises, and the importance of being with the right people. Tryst/Leenik and Zero/Blue, 1.7k)
AUcember || read on ao3
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“Nobody cleans up after their damn selves,” Aava mutters. She already has a towering stack of dishes in her hands, mostly paper plates and plastic cups.
“You could do this somewhere else,” Tryst says. Leenik’s not sure if he’s offering or just being a dick, but he seems pretty sincere as he looks at her. “My place is-”
“Your place is tiny, Trystan.”
“Hey,” Leenik says mildly, not because he cares but because he feels honor-bound to defend his apartment with Tryst. It’s a horrible place, sure, but it’s their horrible place.
“Your place is tiny, Tryst and Leenik,” Aava says, because she’s fair and magnanimous like that, and she wants to give Leenik credit, or something. She’s a real friend.
She’s not wrong, though. Their apartment barely fits the both of them, and that was even after they decided to bite the bullet and go for a one-bedroom. It’s a comfy arrangement, but it’s nothing compared to Aava’s penthouse. It’s huge, from some corporate job that she never shares the specifics of, and she always throws this New Year’s party, every year.
Tryst and Leenik are pretty much the only ones who stay to help her clean up, every year. It’s one of Leenik’s favorite things.
FIC: versus the world
So the three of them are rebel agents, and not even important rebel agents. And they’re on a forest planet, where nobody will come looking for them. Blue’s not feeling great about their odds of getting help. (A Mynock/Bluebird roleswap, 2.4k)
AUcember || read on Ao3
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They don’t crash-land on Myrkr, per se. Zero doesn’t like it when they call it a crash-landing, especially because the ship can still fly afterwards. But It’s the kind of landing that includes words like “brace yourself” and “it’s gonna be bumpy” and all those other things that give Blue a headache to think about for too long.
“I thought we had fuel,” Synox snaps, once the ship isn’t smoking anymore and they’ve determined that all the pieces of fuselage are still attached. “Didn’t you say we had fuel?”
“I said we had some fuel,” Zero says coolly. His feet are kicked up on the kitchen table, and his mask is blank, but Blue can hear the irritation in his voice. “There’s a chance that there’s a mechanical issue we overlooked, or a nav-computer glitch-”
“There’s not a nav-computer glitch,” Blue says, before he can stop himself. Synox, predictably, rolls his eyes, and Blue would guess that Zero is doing the same. “There’s not. I wouldn’t let there be.”
“The point remains that we’re stranded.” Zero stretches his arms along the booth-style seat. “And we need to figure out what to do now.”
FIC: chain reaction
“Mhm,” Aava says. “And I’m in here with you. And I don’t know you that well, but you did just insinuate that the worst part of being trapped in an elevator with no food or water is the fact that I’m in here with you, so that’s pretty hurtful.” (Campaign modern AU, 1.8k)
AUcember || read on ao3
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“Well,” Aava says. “This isn’t ideal.”
“Not Ideal?” Leenik repeats, and, okay, it’s a little shrill. He can admit to himself that it’s a little shrill. “We’re going to be trapped in here for the rest of our lives-”
“They said two hours, tops.”
“With no food, no water-”
Aava pulls a water bottle out of her terrifyingly large purse. “Do you want to keep going?”
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FIC: dream me, o dreamer
The werewolf transformations… are not easy. This is the kind of thing that goes without saying. (An Evil Campaign monster AU, implied Blue/Zero, 1.4k)
AUcember || title lyric || read on ao3
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Aava stops by the morning of the full moon with a black lace parasol, which is the most laughably ineffective sunshade that Zero has ever seen in his life. The shadows on the front step are weird, lacy shapes. If he looks close enough it looks like they’re moving, which might be a trick of the mind. It also might be Aava’s magic.
“This should be enough to get you through tonight.” She holds out a thermos. “And I left out the garlic this time.”
“Blue will appreciate that,” Zero mutters. The last time Aava put garlic in his full moon draught, Blue hadn’t been in a room with him for about three days, and he’d been pissed for a week afterwards. He takes the thermos - the glittery neon pink thermos. “Branching out in home decor?”
“It’s a long story,” Aava says. This could mean about half a dozen things, but Zero is distracted from all of them by the fact that the lace shadows on her face are definitely changing. It’s like the lace is… writhing. It’s very unsettling. “Let me know how this batch works, I tried something different.”
FIC: some things you just can’t refuse
“No, no, Sy, hear me out.” Aava leans in. “Hypothetically, where do I get a copy of the paperwork I would need to take on a CI?” (Campaign White Collar AU, 2k, undertones of Tryst/Aava/Leenik)
AUcember || read on ao3
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Aava has her gun up as she steps into the warehouse. She knows she doesn’t need to, knows this place like the back of her hand and exactly where she should go, but it’s good to be prepared anything.
“FBI,” she calls, not really trying to project her voice. The echo bounces around the warehouse. “Come out where I can see you. Hands up.”
“I’ll put my hands wherever you want them,” a voice calls back. It’s weak, like he’s making the joke because he thinks she’s expecting it.
Aava holsters her gun. “And if I want them in the air?”
Tryst Valentine, escaped fucking convict, leans out from behind a pillar. “You gonna shoot me, Agent Arek?”
FIC: apple cider, i don’t mind
Dak turns around, and Max jumps onto his back in a well-practiced motion. “Who’s ready for an open house?” (Dak/Tech parent/teacher AU, 2.9k)
AUcember || title lyric || read on ao3
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Dak cups his hands around his mouth. “Max!” he shouts up the stairs. “Come on, buddy, we gotta get going!”
“I can’t find my backpack!” Max yells back.
“You left it in the kitchen! And you don’t need the backpack, this is just an open house!”
“I can’t go to school without a backpack, you made me promise!”
“This isn’t a normal school day, and we’re running late!”
Max gasps from upstairs, surprisingly loud with his little seven-year-old lungs. That’s one of the crazy things about kids: they’re fucking loud. They talk loud. They scream loud. Even their dramatic gasps are loud enough to hear downstairs. “Mister Z doesn’t like it when people are late!”
“Then we’d better get going,” Dak says, or starts to say when Max comes barrelling down the stairs and more or less leaps into Dak’s chest, full-force.
