don't even ask me what fandom i'm in

art sideblog | Squire7 on ao3 | call me ri | he/they

[phoenixyfriend]

Reblog if you write fanfic and would be totally down with your followers coming into you askbox and talking to you about your fic

[fanfic-obsessed]

90% of the time this will result in even more fanfic, I will love that person forever, and may start writing specifically for them.

[rigel-astrofix]

hello tbob fandom. am i late?

[rigel-astrofix]

fuck it 1st draft of the supermarket scene let's go

Shane hates going to the supermarket on game days.

He hates going to the supermarket at all, hates the wide isles and the frigid temperature beside the fridges that always smells a little like rotting meat. He hates the tiny 24 hour metro a block from his apartment even more though, because even though it's less of a loud, cold, smelly nightmare it comes with a heightened chance of being recognised. Especially on game days.

But it's a game day, and driving to the supermarket will cut into his prep time, and he's dropped an egg, which would normally be fine, he'd just add another half dozen to his regular grocery order, but it's a Tuesday, the day before his grocery order is set to arrive, and he's out of eggs.

On a game day.

He can't risk disrupting his nutrition like that, can't risk feeling weak from hunger-exertion the whole game against Edmonton, and so he's here, in the 24 hour metro a block from his apartment. On a game day.

Ordinarily, the fact that his apartment is basically across the road from the Bell Center is a plus. He doesn't even have to drive back to his place after games, and the practice facility is only a twenty minute drive with regular bridge traffic at 8am. But now, on a game day, with the only quick option available for him to buy eggs is to walk the five minutes down to the metro to get them, he regrets buying so close. It'll be full of hockey fans, buying a beer or chips to smuggle into the game under their coats, fans that could recognise Shane Hollander, Hockey Player, fans that will ask for a selfie or an autograph or, god forbid, follow him home.

Fuck, he hopes nobody follows him home. He likes this apartment. He likes how easy it is to get home after games, likes the long kitchen island separating it from the open plan living room, likes the way the sun streams into his upstairs bedroom, likes the way Rozanov presses him into the glass wall of his staircase when they can't wait to get their hands on each other.

But it's a risk he has to take.

The walk isn't long, a two minute leisurely stroll in biting cold that makes his nose turn red. He's done his best to wrap up - covering his hair with a toque, burying his face in his scarf. He'd considered throwing on sunglasses, but then got worried they might think he was there to steal something and so he didn't, but he's regretting it now because there's a man down the aisle from him, staring just a few seconds too long.

He grabs the cheapest package of eggs he can find, not even bothering to check if they're broken because he only really needs one, one fucking unbroken egg - and, before he can exit the aisle again, the guy taps him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, are you Shane Hollander?"

Shane puts on Shane Hollander, Hockey Player, before he turns around. "That's me."

The guy's face breaks out into the biggest smile. "Sick, man! Could I get a photo with you? My roommate's gonna be super jealous."

"For sure."

Shane plasters on a smile, more teeth, and crowds closer to the guy than he'd usually like, hiding the eggs out of frame.

"Thanks man, appreciate it! Beat Edmonton for us tonight, yeah?"

"Absolutely." He laughs, and it sounds fake. Canned.

The guy walks away, finally exiting the aisle, but Shane still can't draw a full breath. He goes through the motions of swiping his card at the checkout, smiling at the checkout clerk when she stares at him a beat too long. He makes the walk back to his apartment in one and a half minutes, stashes each egg in the tray in his fridge, and then very quietly has a panic attack.

Then he calls his doorman and asks him to do a lap around the building to make sure the guy didn't follow him home.

While he waits for a call back, he makes his eggs. Scrambled, two scoops of protein powder, a dash of soy milk - not quite enough to impact the flavour but enough to mask the chalky texture of the powder. He eats the eggs hunched over his kitchen counter and rolls out his yoga mat in an attempt to get his afternoon back without getting a nap in, because his doorman is going to call him.

His doorman is going to call him.

[rigel-astrofix]

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

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Heated Rivalry (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Hayden Pike, Ilya Rozanov & Svetlana Vetrova Characters: Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Hayden Pike, Jackie Pike, Yuna Hollander, Svetlana Vetrova, Grigori Rozanov Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, COVID-19, COVID-19 Lockdown, Coming Out, Getting Together, Canon Divergence - Grigori Rozanov Dies in 2020, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Parent Death, Alzheimer's Disease, Phone Calls & Telephones Summary:

Ilya's father doesn't die in 2017. Shane and Ilya's early 2020, as told through a series of phone calls, supermarket runs, and conversations.

[nomettesbizzareadventure]

Fanfic Writers: Director’s Cut

Reblog this if you want readers to come into your ask box and ask for the “director’s commentary” on a particular story, section of a story, or set of lines. 

Or, send in a ⭐star⭐  to have the author select a section they’ve been dying to talk about!

[rigel-astrofix]

*achievement unlocked noise*

[rigel-astrofix]

"the ninth is deep in their blood debt and i am undone by the expense."

[rigel-astrofix]

that salt pool scene really hits hard, huh

[rigel-astrofix]

the man is 25. he should've been at the club

[rigel-astrofix]

it's clowning on ra's al ghul hours

[rigel-astrofix]

I am a “tim drake needs glasses (and didn’t realise it for ages and then got glasses and was surprised when he got significantly fewer migraines)” truther

[rigel-astrofix]

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i KNOW it is crunchy i KNOW but this is the best one i could get to work with the music. stills below the cut :)

[rigel-astrofix]

we have not touched the stars, / nor are we forgiven, which brings us back / to the hero's shoulders and the gentleness that comes / not from the absence of violence, but despite / the abundance of it. - Richard Silken

darker version below the cut - cannot for the life of me decide which one i like better

[rigel-astrofix]

he's such a drama queen

[rigel-astrofix]

Angel Home Insurance

here everyone have a stupid thing @tropesinatrenchcoat and i wrote when i pointed out that gabriel (good omens) and gabriel agreste (miraculous ladybug) have the same first name

He wasn't sure what he was meant to do when the pure, white light appeared in front of him. Was it another kwalmi appearing before him, wanting to pledge to his cause?

No, this light was too big for that.

When a man stepped out, Hawkmoth's purple orbs locked eyes with his grey ones.

"Hello, Butterfly man. Do not be afraid, or whatever."

Hawkmoth raised an eyebrow. "Who are you?"

"I am the angel Gabriel! I come to you with a business opportunity."

Hawkmoth grinned - an angel on his side? Those ridiculous heroes wouldn't know what hit them. "What is it?"

The strange glowing man in Hawkmoth's evil lair - whose name was also Gabriel? -reached into his pocket. "Can I interest you in Angel Home Insurance?"

The man produced a business card, holding it out to Hawkmoth.

Hawkmoth didn't take the business card. "What?"

The man didn't seem deterred. "To get 50% off you have to sell 500 cans of tuna! It's an easy deal, and with a city with a cat hero, it's guaranteed to sell!"

"...That sounds like a pyramid scheme."

"Ha! I would never be involved in such a devilish plan! I am an ANGEL, Mr Moth!" The strange man actually seemed quite offended.

Hawkmoth considered this proposal. He could possibly use the tuna to lure Chat Noir in, as the angel had suggested...

"What do I get if I subscribe to your…scheme?" he asked.

"Well, the Angelic home insurance, of course! We will use a miracle to conceal your home from evildoers," like Ladybug and Chat Noir, Hawkmoth mused, "and if one does show up, it will be met with the full power of our ANGELIC MIGHT!" The man glowed a bit brighter briefly before returning to his regular hovering and pleasant white-ish glow.

That did sound like a good deal. "I'll take the deal. How much will it cost me?"

Ladybug and Chat Noir were not amused the next day when Gabriel Agreste seemed to go insane, unable to find his own front door and ranting about ripoff angels, of all things. Maybe it was an akuma?

[rigel-astrofix]

a fun little follow on from last weekend's project