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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
a story by the wonderful @irazor !!!
🎶happy birthday to meeeeeeee 🎶indeed
go read this fabulous romantic adventure NOW and leave a comment or a kudo stat stat stat
Fic recs: 2, please!
🔁 A fic you’ve re-read several times
I've read Somewhere I've never been by @irazor (MinilocIsland on AO3) multiple times and I will probably go read it again now. Raz is so good at capturing that specific ache of longing in fic. She knows how to get readers to that place of wanting to devour the candy promise at a story's close and knowing they'll choose to wait and savor instead. In this case, the slow unfurling of infatuation over several summers. Beautifully written.
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Thank you for the ask, @actiaslunaris!
from this meme, ask me about fics
💖
💖 A drabble that made you want 100K more words
You know I have a terrible memory for drabbles. I do remember @irazor* did a tumblr prompt where someone had to say "you have my sword," and I was like, yessss, yesss, gimme that warring factions and castle grime and fur collars etc.
Luckily for me, she did expand it and I volunteered myself to her team of beta readers (LOL, "casually") and now you can all read it on AO3 as my kingdom for your graces and really, you should.
*I swear I love a lot of writers, not just the phenomenal blithers and irazor, but many more. ask me things, peeps, so I can talk about more of them. 🤣
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Thank you for the ask, #@angel-in-the-city-blog
from this meme, ask me about fics
🔁 🛳️💘✨
GIANT EMOJIS!!!
🔁
🔁 A fic you’ve re-read several times
Lost Boys (Not Ready to be Found) by @towonderland72 is a must-reread. A SKAM fic that treats the Even and Isak relationship with rare, gorgeous delicacy--the pacing on this one is superb. It has the true timing of first love without slavishly following the canon template. It is hesitant and careful, the love builds with gorgeous simplicity. Beautiful, tender AU.
🛳️
🛳️ A fic that brought you aboard a new ship
That would be Wild and Wired by @letteredlettered. I hadn't seen Schitt's Creek at that point, knew nothing about the David and Patrick ship, but I'll read anything lettered writes. I was charmed by its humor and sweetness, comedy with a thread of raw vulnerability. Started watching the show immediately after. Do yourself a favor and check it out.
💘
💘 A fic you couldn’t stop reading once you started
Because I will read fics in fandoms I'm not in, I started The Wise Man's Tree by CurrieBell by one night and read and read until my eyes started tearing up. I know absolutely nothing about Critical Role's Lord Percival de Rolo and Lady Vex’ahlia of Syngorn, but it doesn't matter--this story is briskly readable and sucks you right into gothic high fantasy adventure mode. At 161K and counting, the story remains unfinished. It was last updated in 2021, but I live in hope.
✨
✨ A fic you wish you could read again for the first time
Haunted by @scandalpantsstuff has one of the most original AU Veronica Mars characterizations of Logan Echolls and I still remember the absolute thrill of reading this version of him. The story is much more than that of course, it contains multiple love stories, but the boldly original roll-out of those first few chapters lives rent-free in my mind. Haunted has been a work-in-progress for a number of years now and I have it bookmarked, am subscribed, and ready to return when it finishes. I'm okay with the wait because I know it will be superb.
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Thank you for the ask, @theawkwardterrier!
from this meme, ask me about fics
Please 18
18.😭 A fic that ripped your heart out (but it hurt so good)
I am likely to never know what the title of A Silky Nightmare refers to and I kind of love that it sounds like it's a a Gothic romance about a man who is a super hot Lord of the Manor by day, man-eating spider by night.
While that sounds kind of awesome, the story is about something else entirely.
I hesitate to say too much about the story, which doesn't fuck around too much with complication. It is a beautifully realized SKAM AU set in the not-distant-enough past when homosexuality was illegal in Oslo. It is about what is forbidden, it's about sex and how it reveals character, it's about eating ice cream in a bank holiday-empty park with someone you have fallen in love with. It's about fear. And hope.
SKAM's Even and Isak are posited by canon as unavoidable in any universe--which somehow makes them the perfect ship to explore difficulties with in fic. Unerringly, they meet and connect, no matter the obstacle, and the obstacle here--living in a world where they cannot risk holding hands in public--packs a wallop because it is not made up. This was true once.
A Silky Nightmare is not perfect, but so much of it is, and it is so beautifully felt, I reread it once a year to feel the good pain that it brings. The anger, loneliness, and frustration of the situation, the setting. But also the joy, and the love. Every time I read the ending, I feel like I've been through it in the best way.
The author kindly orphaned rather than deleted, and I thank them for their kindness. I will recommend it forever and ever.
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Thank you for the ask, @yulyasupreme
from this meme, ask me about fics
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I loved this holiday story from first-time SKAM writer MeropeMerope. Sweet, funny, melancholy, and romantic. Angsty in the right places, but always with a purpose. Superb.
It’s his turn, and Isak is not sure how he feels about that. It’s too late to pull out though, so he gets on with it. The bottle spins and spins and spins before getting slower, wobbling about as if to draw things out. And then it stops moving and of course, like the self-destructive compass needle that is Isak’s heart, the bottle neck points directly at Even.
The room is oddly hushed, or maybe it’s just that Isak’s sense of hearing is signing off, capitulating to the overwhelming thrum of his heartbeat. Isak raises his gaze from the bottle and takes Even in, filing away all the little tells so that he can later revisit them in his mind: how Even draws himself up a little taller, rolling back his shoulders as if his cardigan is suddenly too tight.
Go read!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
YO, I'm loving this delightful fic about Santa's air traffic controller Isak, creator of Christmas miracles Even, magic, longing, and finding your way home.
Even cradled his left arm, studying Isak’s hand with a mien of actual or mock-stupefaction. Isak was kind of put out by the discovery that Even had a couple of inches on him. And even more put out by the fact that he looked… well… Even looked a lot like some sadistic but infernally talented artist had reached into the deepest, most private recesses of Isak’s mind, wrenched out the exact form and shape of Isak’s painfully pent-up desires, and then created this masterpiece of a boy for the sole purpose of torturing Isak.
“Um…,” Even said. “Um… um… I think I’m gonna…”
Isak smiled. A beautiful imbecile, thank the gods. That he could deal with.
“Promise… to do that again later?” Even asked, voice sounding oddly slurred.
“Do what?”
“Smile at me?”
Sweet, funny, and well-written--a real holiday treat! I want this writer to write many more fics for me the fandom so go read and comment! 💗
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Maurice - E. M. Forster, Maurice (1987), A Room With a View - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Freddy Honeychurch/Alec Scudder Additional Tags: E.M. Forster - Freeform, Edwardian hand jobs, Edwardian blow jobs, Implied/Referenced Past Non-Con Summary:
A celebration of Rupert Graves' Merchant-Ivory roles.
Freddy Honeychurch is bored, at Penge.
@etal-later is one of my favorite writers and this story, a clever and clear-eyed imagining of pre-Maurice canon meeting between Freddy Honeychurch and Scudder is funny, perfectly observed, and that in special Forsterian way, sweetly melancholic. Go read it.
“Are you at Mr Durham’s College then?”
“Not I, I’m at King’s. In London.” Freddy’s school had suggested that the Cambridge Entrance Exam was perhaps not for him and that London would be more his style. “I’m awfully dim you see.”
Scudder stared at him. “You don’t sound like yer dim.”
“Oh I’m alright when it’s things you can see and make sense of, it’s only when they start in on poetry and all that.”
“All what?”
Freddy sighed. It was so hard to explain. His whole school career had been taken up with a series of baffling encounters with bodies of knowledge which seemed broadly interchangeable and included the Gospels, the French language, the Punic Wars, the verse of Dryden, the Tudor Acts of Succession and the dative case. The details of each block of learning had to be stuffed into one’s mind like it was a badly packed case, until an examination had been taken, after which it could be emptied to make way for the next bundle. Anatomy had at least the virtue of staying still and being unambiguous. One only had to try and remember what fastened on to what and half the battle was won.
Also, anything tagged “Edwarding hand jobs” recommends itself, doesn’t it?
