one day i will write a vampire au for downton abbey


Hey guys so as you all know it’s September so that means it’s practically halloween Autumn so obviously I needed to write a Snowbaz Autumn au because ‘hey I’m trash how can I help you today?’

•So Baz hates the rain because it makes his hair frizzy but he pretends to like it because he has to keep up his sad boy aesthetic™
•Simon is more of a spring kind of guy but he adores Autumn leaves so it’s all good
•So one day Simon decides to go on a walk -because he doesn’t really like being in one room for too long, his magic used to fill up the air, now the emptiness just hangs in the room and it slowly starts to seep in through his seams and he just has to move
•He drags a reluctant Baz along with him because he’s halfway through a marathon of Downton Abbey and he’s been there for hours it’s unhealthy -except he’s not really reluctant, because Baz would follow Simon to the end of the Earth without a second thought
•So they go out on a long romantic walk and it’s all cute and it’s kinda cold so they wear scarves and big jumpers and Snow I’m literally a vampire get those damn mittens away from me
•And it’s all fun and games until the clouds begin to darken and rain starts to fall
•And it’s Britain so it completely pours it down like nobodies business
•Simon likes it because he can concentrate on the water dripping down his face and the feeling of Baz’s hand in his own and he can just breathe without overthinking every exhale
•Baz is a complete snob though so he just feels damp and cold and ugh
•((Until Simon smiles at him. Then he couldn’t feel any warmer))
•So they walk back home in the rain and Simon defo jumps in all of the puddles like a dork
•But they’re holding hands and the rain makes Baz’s hair hang over his forehead and the rain drowns out all the noise so its just them in the entire world
•When they get home Simon starts a fire and Baz feeds so when he comes back his nose is bright red and Simon dies because he is so in love with this blood sucking nerd
•They wrap themselves up in blankets and sit on the floor with cushions and warm drinks
•Simon keeps glancing at Baz from where he’s looking out the window (only to make sure the idiot hasn’t lit himself on fire that is… Not because his hair is frizzy and his cheeks are red and his fangs show when he laughs at Simons crappy jokes and because he is gorgeous and beautiful and breathtaking and)
•And Baz makes some stupid pun it’s winter soon, they’ll be snowfall… Which means imma push you down the stairs and Simon really fucking hates him
•He hates him so much that he pins Baz to the ground and starves him of oxygen by sealing his lips with his own (otherwise known as Simon Snow’s Guide To Dealing With Your Enemy With Benefits)
•Simon drinking hot chocolate and Baz stealing sips just because he can and fresh cookies out of the oven and orange leaves falling down outside and omg kill me please
•please someone I need this hmu with more

anonymous asked:

hi, i'm sure you're super tired of getting these asks but do you have bellarke crossover/fusion fic recs? :) thank you so much!!!

Oh do I! Fair warning, not all of these are finished fics, but here we go…

What Love’s All About - BoudicaMuse [ Dirty Dancing ]

there should be stars for great wars like ours - @melika-elena [ Hunger Games ]

to dust or to gold - ginnyweasleys [ Hunger Games ] 

Driving Miss Griffin - @notmylady [ Downton Abbey ]

The Life He Chose - @hawthornewhisperer [ Game of Thrones ]

Lift My Heart Up To Your Ear (you can probably hear the ocean) - @tierannasaurusrex [ Practical Magic ]

By Tomorrow We’ll Be Lost - WiinterIsNotComing [ Daredevil ] 

All that matters is what we do - @textsfromumbridge [ Buffy / Teen Wolf ]

call me old fashioned - @peppermintmiller [ The Holiday ]

Everything That’s Wrong With A Little Chaos - @cupcakesandtv [ Jurassic World ]

We Own The Sky - Lila82 [ Sons of Anarchy ]

Empty Vessel, Crooked Teeth - @prosciuttoe [ Sense8 ]

Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic - @prosciuttoe [ Harry Potter ]

All We Need to Make It Through - @haimaee [ Harry Potter ]

this world is full of magic things - @haimaee [ His Dark Materials/Daemons ] 

Griffin’s Anatomy - @hawthornewhisperer [ Grey’s Anatomy ]

Setting Fire To Our Insides - WiinterIsNotComing [ Gossip Girl ]

We Are Police Colleagues - @ponyregrets [ Brooklyn 99 ]

The Island at the End of the World - @earthbellamy [ Atlantis ]

Stay With Me Tonight - @sirbelllamyblake-archive [ Crazy Stupid Love ] 

Whew, okay, gonna stop before I get carried away. 

Also, this is one of my favorite genres to write, so I also have some of mine listed, but we’re putting those under the cut because wow I did not realize how many of these I have written and we do not need to have that out in the open :)

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anonymous asked:

same anon that asked for the famous au, but was stupid enough to not put in what ship!!! could you write it for ichabbie or captain swan??? thanks:)))

Ichabod Jeremy Crane has had, as the saying goes by that obnoxious purveyor of popular music (why on earth is it popular when it sounds like a very angry fellow shouting at the top of his lungs and what does “Z” stand for – what sort of surname is “Z” anyway?) ninety-nine problems since he awoke two hundred years in the future, and they are only barely ameliorated by the only things he has at his disposal to remedy his ignorance: a “computer” with an Inter-Net connection and a Netflix (he is not even going to attempt to riddle out what that means) subscription. The Sleepy Hollow Police Department has apparently decided that this will be the fastest way to acclimate him to the present culture, and Ichabod, after stoutly swearing for twenty-four hours that he will do no such thing, finally gives in from sheer boredom and loneliness. It takes him quite a while of squinting at the instructions to make the talking box divulge its moving pictures, but at last it does, and he quickly becomes enthralled.

He watches all of a show called Glee, and learns all about the fact that homosexuals apparently sing passionate musical numbers and wear fashionable clothing these days (although Baron von Steuben was quite the sartorial standout). He then continues to a show called Lost, which even his finely trained, Oxford-educated mind cannot decipher (what is that bloody smoke monster even for?) and another entitled Once Upon a Time, which is nearly as befuddling. Having furtherly consumed Breaking Bad, Mad Men, House of Cards, and various others he cannot recall, it is then that he discovers Grace Abigail Mills.

She is an actress (although that word, with its coarse connotations of bedizened doxies putting themselves on low display at Covent Garden or Drury Lane, seems far too rude for such an exquisite creature). She plays in a historical fiction series similar to Downton Abbey (which Ichabod watched all through with minimal sleep) except set in a pre-Civil War American South (the Civil War apparently being a conflict to free the slaves). She is passionate, beauty and grace, fragility and power, so that his eyes are verily riveted to the glowing screen. She is, in fact, far too good for all the miscellaneous ruffians that attempt to cause her distress at various moments, so that Ichabod wants to throw himself into the story and handle them smartly for her. Not that she needs the help. He has never imagined a woman so singular.

He finishes that series and watches everything else she is in – recognizing her in a film about Dido Belle, the famous half-African niece of Lord Mansfield; he set down his ruling prohibiting human chattel slavery in the British dominions in 1772, the year Ichabod took his degree from Oxford. She is also variously a vampire hunter, a no-nonsense sheriff, the wife of a Negro-American baseball player, and other roles, all of which he consumes with earnest admiration. It only deepens when he asks about her and discovers that she is in fact, native to Sleepy Hollow, one of its few claims to fame. She still comes back and visits sometime, but not often. He gets the sense that whatever her past is here, she would prefer it remain buried.

Thus it is so that Ichabod, out for his morning constitutional one day, enters the coffee shop (as ridiculous as the Italians are, putting foamed milk upon the fruit of the espresso bean and charging four dollars for it, it is also a deliciously appetizing confection) and sees a woman sitting by herself in the corner, in a hat and sunglasses. Nobody seems to be paying her a great deal of attention, and he is about to do the same… but he recognizes that profile, that exquisite tilt of the head, the small frame. He glances left, glances right, and deciding to carpe the diem, sidles up to her table. “Miss Mills? Ah, Miss Mills? Good morning, how do you do. I am a great admirer of your oeuvre.”

She glances up at him, completely startled to be addressed so by a British gentleman of means (well, previously of means – in this century, he has barely so much as a pot to piss in). “Who are you?”

“My deepest apologies for disturbing you. Ichabod Crane. I recognized you from your seminal work on the Net Flicks, and I merely wished to say… it has been a great help to me. In… coming here.”

She remains wary, cautious, clearly not quite understanding what he means but not entirely wanting to push him away. “Thanks?”

“Er…” Ichabod shifts from foot to foot, not wanting to persist in his ungentlemanly attentions, but likewise unable to make himself invisible again. It’s the first time someone has looked at him since he arrived – like a human being, not a lunatic. By God, she is even more beautiful in person. “Is it remotely possible I could obtain a token of this meeting?”

“What do you mean? An autograph?” She shakes her head, laughing despite herself. “I’ve never heard someone talk like you. Who are you, Mr. Darcy?”

“From the Austen novels?” Ichabod is rather pleased at the idea, especially after having watched approximately fifty adaptations of Pride and Prejudice. “No, madam. As I said, Ichabod Crane, Esquire.”

“Crane?” He thinks something passes through her eyes, but he can’t tell what. “I’m… Abbie Mills, but I guess you knew that.”

“Indeed.” At her nod, he takes a seat. Their knees bump beneath the table. Her hand lies close to his; he could cover it completely, small as it is. He seems to be forgetting how to breathe properly. “I’ve known you for some time, through the visual medium. And it…”

He pauses, fighting a strange nostalgia, an ache in his chest. As if he’s lost something he never knew he had, and could still find it again, but at the end of a long journey, a terrible struggle. Yet she is still watching him, brown eyes intent on his face, and he will not lose heart before her. He smiles. “And it is so good, Miss Mills, to finally meet you in truth.”

I’ll Paint You Wings, Now I’ll Set You Free.

hey hi okay so i didn’t actually write this and the writer of this fic wishes to remain anonymous, but they wanted me to post it to which i agreed because i think it’s rad and i think you’ll all like it!! i gather it’s the first chapter of many and i’m not sure how many chapters are yet to come but for now feedback will always be appreciated :)

au where dan’s a lonely drawer and sketches out a friend.



A multitude of pencils spill onto the floor, bouncing off my chair getting lost amongst the piles of clothing in various shades of black and grey that surround my tiny desk. I sigh in frustration and disgust, crumpling up the paper in my hand and tossing it in the direction of the already overflowing wastebasket. “Why can’t I fucking draw?” I mutter, picking up the pencils angrily and shoving them back into my pencil case. It seems that I am not going to accomplish any feats of artistic greatness today, or anytime soon for that matter.
Fine. Where’s my phone?
Ugh, walking from one side of my room to the other is literally like wading through a swimming pool. Except this one is full of items of clothing. Even better.
I mean, even if you don’t have my incredibly lazy streak, it is such an immense effort to even attempt to sort out such a horrible mess. And to be honest, I really can’t be bothered.

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