#favoritefic

tagged by the wonderful @tailsbeth-writes and @thesleepyskipper !

enjoy 7 sentences of my RBB fic, which is a college AU in which firstprince run a podcast together. on god's blood, i swear I will finish this story even though it is turning out much harder than I originally thought.

Alex grins, golden in the dying light the sunset affords him. Henry adores him it and feels a crack of bone widen in his chest, in this poorly-put-together ribcage. There’s a chip on Henry's shoulder and it’s been widening, winding its way down for years. Sometimes, he wonders if he’s getting weaker, worse with age. Sure, Henry’s life’s improved in some ways ー he’s left the UK behind, come out, met Alex, started school and the podcast ー but in other ways he was so much brighter as a boy. Before shadows crept across Henry’s windows and whispered in his ears, and before he’d realised just how bitter his grandparents were capable of being, he’d been happier. Alex’s voice trails down, across, over makeshift moors and paragraphs and radio waves.

tagging @siobhanbooks @doctorkepner @likehercules @beachy--head @useragarfield

Oh, anon, this is really hard to say just one. I thought about it and while I have a lot of fics that I loved this year (what a great year for fics!!!!) if I had to choose one, I think I have to go with this one...

And What If I Were You by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

For Louis, will losing his sight give him the clarity to realise what is right in front of him?

For Harry, will losing the love of his life give him the strength to finally open his heart?

And can they find their way back, before they lose each other forever?

No War AU. 13-year-old Aang meets two of the Painted Ladies outside of the Southern Air Temple. They build a magical orchard out of the clouds.

Written for Kuzotara Week 2024 for the 'childhood friends' prompt! for the event run by @survivalove.

She descends with the moon, bathed in black threads of gossamer and velveteen shadows. Aang doesn’t want to say anything, hesitant to play games with her existence, so he perches by the window, tips up his chin and thinks about fetching the creaky stool Monk Paska keeps in the broom cupboard, doesn’t grab the stool, and watches.

Someone. Someone new, someone not clothed in orange silks for once. She’s but a girl, this - this someone he’s found, and she looks up to her leader, a tall woman with broad shoulders. Together they stroll through the clouds outside the temple, the air somehow merciful to their weight, and they do not fall.

Aang wants to fetch his glider and streak across the braided lines of clouds until he meet this mysterious maiden and her… leader? mother? but the other children would probably notice his absence. He grits his teeth and counts his meager moments like Monk Gyatso taught him.

A Heartstopper fic in which Nick and Charlie meet at a modern masquerade ball / costume party. 1.6K, rated T. Nick is NB in this one and they're wearing dresses and skirts. This fic includes fluff, opulence, queer joy, and the value of wearing a medical mask at a social engagement because this is a 100% masked party and disabled people matter. <3

Eyeliner.

Guyliner.

Look, Charlie didn’t even approve of that term for gender reasons一

Fuck.

Someone, he 一 she 一 they (?) were a work of godforsaken art, tiny silver gems that might’ve been from Sotheby’s and might’ve been from ASOS dripping from their neck on a slender chain. The light, pink overhead, glittered over the blonde guy person’s face, where they were wearing a dark blue mask. They held a glass of dark wine in their right hand; their left wobbled in the air, thick rings banded over several of their fingers.

They nodded in appreciation at something Darcy said. They turned to the clock? The door? And Charlie bit his lip instinctually, watching the fine and languid lines of their neck move in real time. It was a ballet of musculature and nerves, ease and cartilage, and Charlie found himself, not for the first time, caught in someone’s orbit.

(It wasn’t Charlie’s fault. The blonde’s gravity, emanating from their body with every jut of their throat and bob of their Adam’s apple head; Charlie wasn’t thinking about them swallowing, no, no, that would be so very inappropriate一)

It wasn’t anyone’s fault.

archiveofourown.org/works/19486129