Who's Aboard The ACCA Artist and Writer Train
They're on for all three months and they offering two works per month. They're game for anything as long as it's not sexually explicit.
You can check out more of their art on their tumblr.
Known on AO3 under the same name, they're responsible for fic titles such as:
They're offering three works a month with a maximum word count up to 3000. They're pretty much a-okay with most scenarios and pairings.
Work Snippet: "Interaction Ritual" -
Will leaned back against one of the columns that held aloft the high ceiling of the foyer. “A few of us came, actually. Grad students.” Will motioned vaguely towards the crowd. He was unsurprised to find that he had settled on the outskirts. “They sent us an invitation. There’s overlap between your work and ours, so we thought it may be insightful.” He paused, lifting his glass with a vague, small smile. “It’s also free.”
“You speak in past tense,” Hannibal noted lightly. “Was it not insightful?”
A smile twitched at the corner of Will’s mouth before he could stop it. “It was.”
Caught in a half-thought, bitten off to be polite, Will glanced sidelong at Hannibal. He answered briskly, trying to ignore the warm blush stretching up along his neck. “It was insightful, maybe in more ways than it was intended.”
The newly-minted doctor’s amusement was palpable. Will watched as he pushed a slip of blonde hair back out of his face - he seemed to be positively preening in anticipation of a challenge, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Do go on.”
Averting his eyes to the crowd again, Will lifted a hand in polite dismissal. “It was fine. You expressed your ideas articulately. Well-referenced. The audience seemed pleased.”
Hannibal picked a mote of dust from his collar. “I must admit that I noticed you in the front row - quite hard not to considering how constantly you move about.” Will resisted moving to accomodate the uneasy sensation that crept down his spine at the mention of his fidgeting. “I might even say you appeared quite uncomfortable at times,” Hannibal continued, benign smile benignly betrayed by the chiding tone in his voice. “What about my thesis made you feel that way? Or perhaps it was simply the chairs.”