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Organization for Transformative Works
Have you read long black night (morning frost) [Empires]?
I have read it
I haven't read it, but I plan to now
I haven't read it, but I'm in the fandom
I haven't read it, but I'm not in the fandom
Voting ended onJan 29, 2025
Summary:
Jimmy bit him as soon as they hit the tower floor. Scott yelped and threw him off, posturing his wings in startled offense, and Jimmy snarled at him, hiss rising like steam from his throat, curved cod teeth bared in threat. One of them had snapped off against the frost on Scott’s skin. He hadn’t drawn blood.
“What the hell,” Scott said faintly. Jimmy’s lips were blue. Frost was creeping across his mouth where he’d bitten Scott, but instead of panicking and demanding assistance, he was just standing there glaring, hugging himself with his bound arms.
Scott rolled his eyes and yanked the magic back, making sure to keep a solid grip on it. Jimmy faltered as the frost vanished and spat, “What, planning to draw it out?”
Author: @droidofmay
Note from Submitter: "pretty much singlehandedly got me into empires, its awesome"
would love to shout out @droidofmay who is an INCREDIBLE friend and an absolutely wonderful person to brainrot with :] Droid you're awesome and im so glad i know you!!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰
For your treat, I'm gonna drop in a folk song from back home.
This is the sort of song that gets played by bands a lot and the whole audience sings along, everybody knows it.
For me this song is also tied up in the fact that the writer passed away a few years ago, and he was like, a cultural icon, and the local news people went around interviewing other people and other musicians about his influence on them. And they'd talk about his 40 year songwriting career and his awards, and his mentorship of other musicians, and stories of when he was a diva or hard to work with (said with affection), and then they'd start singing Sonny's Dream, and everybody in the room would join in. It was the first big song of his career, and apperantly Mr Hynes thought it was shit as he got better, but he would still sing it because everybody wanted to hear Sonny's Dream.
for the title game: so move your feet from hot pavement (and into the grass)
Droid this is a you title, I am not this fancy, I don't know what this could be, I am WAY too literal for this.
Okay, so, team literal here, but desert duo, having a nice picnic and everything is good, intercut with bloody snippets of an urban bloodbath fight, and you think it's flashbacks and they made it out, but at the end you go PSYCH these boys don't get to be happy and it turns out the nice picnic was the memory all along.
[Send me a made-up fic title and I'll make up a story to go with it.]
“I feel like I’ve known you forever” with Patton and Virgil?? *eyes emoji*
(I’m doing another wing au... cause I can.)
-- -- --
Virgil was laying on his stomach, completely and wonderfully comfortable amongst the pillows in his nest. Patton was sitting behind him, gently preening his feathers, careful to make each one perfectly smooth and shiny.
And he didn’t even have to. Virgil wasn’t molting or anything. Though he certainly wasn’t complaining. He didn’t feel uncomfortable around Patton. Not even with his wings all spread out and Patton touching them. He didn’t let very many people touch his wings. Maybe Logan, if there was a feather that had gotten crooked and he couldn’t reach it himself very easily. Roman was allowed to pet his wings, but only sometimes, and Virgil didn’t really trust him enough to let him help with preening.
But he felt comfortable with Patton. Patton wouldn’t hurt him, even on accident at this point.
“You know, I feel like I’ve known you forever,” Virgil mumbled into his arms, too content and relaxed to speak clearly.
“It has been quite a few years,” Patton said.
“No, but, just... I really trust you.” Virgil was glad his face was turned away. Patton wouldn’t tease, but he’d get that little smile if he could see the slight blush.
“I feel honored, Virgil,” Patton said in that soft voice that meant he was a little teary.
Virgil reached a hand back, though it was a little awkward with his position, and Patton took it. He gave Patton’s hand a quick little squeeze. “Thanks for always being here for me.”
Patton huffed out a little laugh. “You’re the one always risking yourself.”
Virgil echoed the little laugh. “Well, maybe, but you’re just... always here. And it means a lot to me, that you don’t leave. And that you do nice things like this for me.”
“You’re very welcome, Virgil.” Patton said softly.
Virgil melted all over again as Patton started preening again. He almost had a ‘can’t believe someone like him would stick around with someone as useless as me’ thought, but enough time with Patton let him know that somehow, Patton always knew. And really, laying here and feeling so cared for, it wasn’t even all that difficult to change the thought.
Prompt (just for fun, feel free to ignore XD): "No, wait, hold on. Am I supposed to know who you are?"
a/n: thanks so much for this prompt! I hope I did it justice.
summary: Virgil may be a criminal, but that doesn’t mean he has to fear the town’s newest superhero.
warnings: blood, knife
writing masterlist - ao3 version
***
His finger rapidly taps against the wooden table as he counts the seconds. Late. Janus was late. His eyes flick to the doorway, to the window, to the other patrons, and back to the doorway. His finger
tap. tap. taps.
four. five. six.
tap. tap. taps.
ten. eleven. twelve.
tap. tap. taps.
door. window. patrons.
nineteen. twenty.
tap. tap.
door. window. door?
Door!
The swinging door reveals his man. Janus enters the bar, drawing off his flowing black overcoat. Gliding through the crowd, he swipes the hat from his head. Settling into his seat, he removes one yellow leather glove after another.
“You weren’t waiting long, were you? Oh, of course not.” Janus answers his own question. “But truly, I am dreadfully sorry for my delayed appearance. Just had to make sure the weather was quiet. Didn’t want to be caught in a storm.” His voice is a purr and his eyes stare into Virgil’s soul, burning the meaning behind his words into his brain.
“How many storms have you had to deal with while I was away?”
“Just one for the moment. One that is, unfortunately, quite strong.”
The anxious man raises his eyebrow in surprise. Janus is not one to throw the word “strong” around when discussing the opposition. “Has the storm passed?”
“The clouds continue to be dark and overcast.” His companion studies his nails, annoyance clear in his words. “And do you have the newspaper? I haven’t had a chance to catch the latest gossip.”
“Right here.” Virgil pulls out a bound roll of paper that to the outside observer would, indeed, appear to be a copy of The Mosmay Creek Times. He hands it over to his companion. “There isn’t much more news to gather from there. I believe it’s time I find a new vacation spot. Any suggestions?”
His companion’s smile is wide. His eyes flash in excitement. He slides the roll of paper into his bag and withdraws a postcard. “I’ve heard this has had some exciting nightlife as of late. Though you may want to dress warm. The night’s get cold and unfriendly amongst these types.”
Virgil nods his head and swipes the postcard. But Janus no longer holds his attention. A newcomer has entered the bar wearing a frankly garish prince costume. And to make matters worse the pompous fool was staring directly at them.
“We may have a storm.” He whispers. His hand drifts down to the lip of his boot, his fingers brush the hilt of his blade. Virgil’s companion leans back into his chair. Templing his fingers, Janus waits for the show.
The conspicuous man saunters up to their table, drawing the attention of the entire bar to their little meeting in the corner. The fool’s smile flashes down at Virgil and his companion. Janus, himself, appears composed and relaxed. He hides his discomfort well.
“Welp, I think business is done here, boys. Don’t you?” The stranger speaks.
“And why would that be?”
The clearly deranged man, gestures up and down his body as if that would explain everything. “Uhh, because I’m here? And Deceit I’ll be taking that newspaper now.” His hand is offered, outstretched.
“No, wait. Hold on… Am I supposed to know who you are?” Virgil’s asks in genuine confusion.
Janus' laughter breaks the cold silence of the room. His cackles overlapped with the offended sputtering of the bedazzled cake topper.
“I am the Prince!” He nearly shrieks.
“Congratulations?” Virgil is still completely lost.
“Anxiety, dear. This is Mosmay Creek’s very own superhero. He started while you were away but, as you can see, already thinks quite highly of himself. You must applaud him for the bravado. And Mr. Prince,” Janus turns to the fuming hero, “I would love to be able to help you with your grand theatrics of heroism, but I’m afraid I cannot. Truly sorry, but duty calls and I must be going.”
Janus grabs his bag and coat. He tsks to himself as the Prince moves to block him, continuing, unperturbed, to slip on his gloves and hat. “Anxiety, I’m sure you’ll be able to handle this hollow actor of justice. Or have you gotten rusty enough to actually need my help?”
Virgil snarls at his companion, who happily hums in return. “Very well.” Janus continues, “It was nice to catch up with both of you.”
“No one’s leav- AHHHHH!” The prince’s words are cut off with a howl of pain. His outstretched hand now has a bloody gash down the palm. A hissing blur of purple and black launches himself at the startled hero. Virgil lands on his opponent’s chest, knocking him to the ground, the feral knife-wielder presses his blade into the cape’s throat.
Virgil hunches over his prey, flashing a devilish grin. “Well, we finally get to talk just the two of us.”
The bar is silent. They stare in awe at their downed hero. No one is able to move.
“So you aren’t invulnerable? What exactly makes you so super, hero?” He presses the blade harder into his opponent’s skin. A trickle of blood is drawn.
Anger flashes across the hero’s face. His eyes, which had previously been brown, were brown no longer. Red. They began to burn. Bright. Hot. Red. Virgil is forced to squeeze his eyes shut tight, a second before a force throws him back. Slamming him into the wall. He falls to the ground. The blade is lost in the blast. He can barely breathe. The air has been forced from his chest. He gulps for anything that can fill his lungs. Virgil’s scrambles to his feet. The hero is beginning to stand. Virgil must recover quicker. He grabs a chair and launches it at the hero. Hunched over and in pain, Virgil rushes the door. Pushing anyone and everyone out of his way, he exits the bar.
Behind him he can hear the Prince shouting for people to move. But Virgil is out in the street now. No one can catch him here. This is his element. He squeezes into the rush. His hoodie up, the slim figure moves through the packed bodies like a fish through water. Disappearing into the roar of strangers. And once he knows he is lost from sight, he exits the stream of people and glides into an alley.
The trash bins provide a jumping off platform. The fire escape is easy to reach from there. And after that, the roof is a synch. Climbing the walls of a city is a simple thing for one of Virgil’s past. A quick escape is often needed when dealing in an occupation of secrets. And sure, his ribs may be sore, but he has had worse than a measly push against a wall.
Up on the roof, pressed against its surface, Virgil shimmies over to the edge. Lying flat, he peers over the edge. Sweeping the street for any sign of pursuit, and somehow he is able to hold back a chuckle. The dumbfounded Prince is standing in the middle of the sidewalk, the swarm of the crowd passing around him. Oblivious, the hero continues to look left and right, lost in utter confusion. Virgil’s smirk was threatening to turn into an actual smile. This new hero may actually end up being a whole lot of fun.
awesome people to tag: @stop-it-anxiety @hexatrash @ollyollyoxinfree @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @leiasolo77 @arya-skywalker
22. Do you enjoy making OCs for your fanfics, or prefer sticking to canon characters?
you’d assume the answer would be ‘yes’ considering [gestures to melliferous] [gestures to eucatastrophe] [gestures to the inception fic] all of it. but i... do not enjoy making OCs. it feels like... an unnecessary imposition on the audience, I guess? I mean, y’all came here for Sanders Sides. not to watch, i don’t know, a fairy king have a midlife crisis, or whatever it is this week. I understand that people actually, somehow, do enjoy that sort of thing, but I still lowkey hate doing it. I really need to stop writing fics with complex mythological basises.
28. Is there a part of [fic title] you’re surprised no one has picked up on yet?
again, i really don’t know if nobody actually picked up on this, or if it’s just a case of ‘this is so obvious, nobody bothered to comment on it’, but.... in ‘i love you and everything is beautiful’ - a) whenever roman flips a coin to make a decision, he doesn’t bother calling out which side of the coin corresponds to him winning. everybody just assumes that he wins when he says so. b) logan’s major keeps changing without anyone ever commenting on it
37. Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story?
already am!! i am a dreadful collaborator, though, so I do not advise doing it; i will abandon the project for months on end, show up at midnight and write 200 words, and then disappear for another few weeks
i always love to hear that somebody likes my characterization! it’s super validating, since i’m hesitant to start writing fic for a fandom until i can hear a character’s voice in my head and i’m fairly preoccupied with making sure scenes flow naturally
21. Is there an idea you’ve always wanted to write, but haven’t yet?
uhhh- *shuffles through my million wip ideas* as far as specific fandoms go, not really, but i do have this one oc that i initially made as a throwaway character for a fic but they gained a life of their own and now they’re my go-to character for daydream scenarios and crossovers lol. i’d love to write a proper story for them someday
