#etalice

[drarry-to-read]

Title: Up here (everything is different)

Author: Etalice

Summary: After the war, Draco left England and made a new life for himself, working as a mountain rescue specialist in the alps and trying to become an entirely different person. He's not happy, not quite, but he's safe and he's stable and it's better than nothing. Then, Harry Potter shows up.

Length: 14,617 words

Rating: Teen and up

[andithiel]

Re: first scene that comes to mind, it has to be that scene in Find your own heaven where they're in the garden and when Draco touches the shovel that just left Harry's hand and it's still warm. What else can I say, this bit of writing lives in my head rent free forever now <3

Oh @etalice I’m so happy you chose Find your own heaven (though I shouldn’t be surprised since I wrote it specifically to cater to your needs)! I remember I had so much fun writing Draco as sexually repressed and guilt ridden, and I think one way I did it was by channeling my teenage self where just being in the same area as your crush (read: “hang around” the neighbourhood where you had found out your crush lived) was the highlight of your weekend. Who knew that 20 years later I could transfer it into heavy UST?

[dictacontrion]

It happens like this: You crowd Malfoy, you push him against the wall with violent words sitting on your tongue and fight-tight fists. You know this, you know the contact of your bodies, vicious and shock-sharp. He’ll hit you, you think. He’ll hit you, and you’ll hit back, and the skin over your bones will stain purple-black with his fists. And you crave the pain, oh, you do. You need the shatter-pain contact of his knuckles with the bone of your jaw. You need the blood-crack of split lips and the taste of iron and salt on your incisors. You need to wipe away the sticky salt-red and smile and taunt, your entire body reckless and alive. You need it like a missing limb or a broken tooth. (This is the thing about pain: it’s always helped you know where you end and where the rest of the world starts. This is the thing about pain: it’s always helped you to inhabit your body again.) “You think you’re so smart, don’t you, Malfoy?” you spit, and you can feel the tension between you, and you can taste the hate and the violence in the air. (You are entirely drunk on it.) Then: Draco moans, and it all goes to shit.

Touch my mouth (and hold my tongue) by @etalice

[drarryruinedme7]

Hello dear, I would love to know more about : 🍔 should be case fic lmao. Especially why it should and why it's not and why there's a hamburger emoji of all this? Thank you <3 <3 <3

hey, my lovely @etalice❤️ Thanks for the ask!!

Lmao yeah that’s a fic I’m super excited about, I have all the case in my mind but I’m terrified I’ll do a horrible job with it bc I’ve never actually written case fics and this is kinda complicated ahahah btw Harry’s a Sr Auror while Draco is a rookie and assigned to him... 

dkasjdlka I can’t wait to finish my advent fic to go back to it xD I also suspect it will be quite longish :D The hamburger emoji is because Harry’s an absolute disaster in this fic especially about food XD 

[stargazing-enby]

Hello! Could I have 6 (What element of writing do you find comes easily?), 11 (Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?) and 25 (Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!) for the fic writer ask? Thanks you <3 <3 <3

Thanks for the ask! ❤

6.  What element of writing do you find comes easily?

Editing! Writing first drafts is usually really hard for me, but once I’m done and I can let them sit for a few hours or days before coming back to them, I usually find it really easy to see exactly what isn't working and how to fix it. It’s a very rewarding feeling, ngl! I love editing my own stories so much :D 

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

The “who” is obviously Drarry at this point in my life 🙈😂 and the “what” I’d say is probably mental health. I’ve been using writing to cope with mental health issues since I was a young teen and it’s probably going to be that way for many more years of my life. I wish I could thank my stories for how much they’ve helped me. 

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

CONSTANTLY XD it’s what I do every single night while I fall asleep. Lately, I’ve been writing many spin-offs of my fic (Mis)calculations, where they meet at the Lake and in the astronomy tower night after night and have similar conversations to the one in the fic. I’ve attempted to write some of them, and maybe, at some point, I’ll be able to turn them into a continuation of the fic. But, for now at least, I need them more inside my mind than out there in the world. 

[confunduis]

A SECRET SANTA GIFT EXCHANGE     – —     (   hosted by @witchsweekly  )          ↪    character psd created by @springdoy

a fanfiction featuring tracey davis and daphne greengrass for @etalice.

You didn’t make the cut, Davis. Better luck next year.

A palpable cloud of frustration hanging over her head, Tracey Davis stormed into the Slytherin Common Room, uncaring how common her behavior appeared in the eyes of her fellow snakes. She was simply too angry at Marcus Flint and his inability to see past her status as broodmare to care what anyone thought. (Merlin forbid a girl actually prove herself more than capable of outpacing and out-flying an idiot male who only knew how to use brute force to score.) And they couldn’t even seem to do that right, seeing as they didn’t possess nearly enough strategic skill or inherent flying talent to beat Potter at his own game. Even Malfoy, for all his talk of being so much more gifted than his housemates, often fell short of the finish line. One would assume Flint would tire of losing and strive to secure a win by any means necessary, even if that meant adding a girl to the roster. But apparently it was too much to hope that Slytherin’s captain would somehow manage to pull the stick out of his ass long enough to buck years of worthless, misogynist traditions. 

Not enough hope in the world could make that happen.

Tracey huffed out an irritated breath, fed up with the whole situation—but just as she was about to throw herself down on one of the green, overstuffed armchairs, a fine-boned hand suddenly snagged her wrist, startling her out of her resentful thoughts. “Hey!” She snapped and made to pull away, only to immediately stop after she recognized the owner of the hand tugging her toward the girl’s dormitory; she allowed herself to be dragged downstairs and down a dimly lit, narrow corridor, continuing through the second door on the right and into a tastefully decorated room. 

“What was that?” Daphne Greengrass demanded coolly.

“What?” Snapped Tracey, her tone just shy of challenging.

Daphne’s delicate features hardened, emulating the fabled Queen Mab of old with an ease that bordered on bewildering. “What have I told you about showcasing your weaknesses for the entirety of Slytherin to see? You wish to give them ammunition to use against you?”

“More ammunition, you mean?” 

“Does it matter? They win either way.”

“I know,” Tracey groaned, absently rubbing her arm where she could still feel the warm imprint of Daphne’s fingers around her wrist. It had startled more than hurt her, seeing the pureblood princess in such a state of displeasure that her words had practically crystallized, the amount of icy rebuke she’d thrown into her voice astounding on a level that had briefly brought an appreciative gleam to Tracey’s hazel eyes. “I apologize for losing control, but it’s just that they make me so angry. Daphne, I wanted to punch him in his stupid face,” she stage-whispered, unapologetic in her desire to set Flint straight. At this point, she was willing to dangle him from the Astronomy Tower to get her point across. Maybe then he’d think twice before inadvertently insulting her intelligence with his lackluster rejection.

“Understandable,” Daphne intoned, her gaze fixated on Tracey’s expressive face. The brunette never did learn how to lock her more volatile emotions away behind a veneer of lofty indifference. But that was one of the reasons why Daphne enjoyed her company so—Tracey’s often blunt honesty and no-nonsense attitude, both of which were charming in their own right. “I won’t lie to you. I myself have often contemplated planting my least favorite boot in Malfoy’s unmentionables.”

A short, startled sound burst from Tracey’s throat, something between a laugh and snort. “I would pay to see that.”

Daphne’s lips twitched, as though she wanted to smile but absolutely refused to fall victim to the undependability of emotions. “Perhaps next time,” she allowed with a regal incline of her head. “Speaking of unmentionables, whose life should we ruin now?” For Tracey, she was more than happy to scheme and conspire until they succeeded in the name of revenge against whoever had earned the girl’s wrath.

“Flint’s,” Tracey grated through clenched teeth. 

“What did he do?”

She fought to think past the anger roiling through her, her expression tight as she remembered how easily he’d dismissed her tryout, accepting an inadequate player in her stead. “He wouldn’t let me join the team,” she bit out. 

Daphne’s thin, delicate eyebrows drew together in a frown. Knowing Tracey, she’d given it her all, and it apparently still hadn’t been enough to sway the opinion of purebloods who had grown up believing little of women. She and Astoria, her younger sister by two years, were lucky—in that their father knew better than to deny their mother anything, his respect for her accomplishments as well as her knowledge in her chosen craft outweighing any potential backlash he might draw from the patriarchal community to which they belonged. 

“Well, we will simply have to show him the error of his ways,” Daphne murmured shrewdly, calculating thoughts swirling behind pale blue eyes.

An answering smirk curved Tracey’s mouth. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

“Of course.” Daphne gave her a measured look, strangely candid in her determination to assist Tracey in her Quidditch endeavors—even if she failed to understand the popularity and draw of such a violent sport. “What are best friends for?”

[astoriafest]

AstoriaFest August 2

Second Astoriafest post is up! Go show some love to Of white-plumed birds under bright-warm skies by Etalice on ArchiveofOurOwn!

[ellipsical-elle]

Comment Challenge

With all the talk of lack of commenting/support,discouragement etc. I'm determined to do my part. So. I’m going to challenge myself once a week with something new to get me out of my zone and reading new things that maybe, before, I wouldn’t have given a chance. Recently it was to go to the fics of someone who had left a string of kind comments on my work and leave a comment on one of theirs. And look at this lovely ficlet I found:

Forces and orbits and attraction by Etalice

If your heart were a compass, he’d be magnetic north.

Sherlock pines after John for 650 words.

Oh, oh, it’s so lovely and achey and beautifully written. I hope you’ll go and read and kudo and comment. And please, if you would, reblog with something maybe you’ve found recently that doesn’t have enough love?