Ahahaha, okay. Attempting to collate orgy of Red Cross ficathon stuff from past two nights, mainly so I can force people to go read some MAGNIFICENT riffs on them by certain co-conspirators. By fandom, then.

( Rome [Marc Antony] )

( Rome/Good Omens )

( Good Omens/Aubreyad )

( Aubreyad/PotC; or, The Case of the Problematic Natives )

A heads-up: bookshop's Red Cross ficathon is open again, until 10pm EST tonight. The deal: for every 100 words of fic posted in the comments, bookshop will donate $1 (up to a total of $100) to this Red Cross drive, where every dollar raised this week will be matched by a local business. So far, $78.40 worth of fic has been written - that's 2,160 words left to go.

Alternatively, for every $1 you donate to the campaign, you get 100 words of fic from bookshop based on a prompt of your choosing.

So if anybody has any mojo left over from writing porn drabbles all day yesterday and/or is brimming over with fandomly creativity after striking against LJ for a WHOLE DAY, this would be a good place to dump it. Just sayin'!

ETA: Which it is I wrote moar, though am unsure if they are long enough to bother reposting. Rome and Rome/GO, respectively.

Move along, move along! Just reposting Red Cross charity ficlet (GO DO THIS WHEN IT OPENS UP AGAIN) here for neatness. Look ma! Actually archiving things and using tags as they were intended by God!

( Untitled snippet, Aubreyad/*ahem* crossover. )

Drabble!

Over the centuries, there are only so many hobbies one can find to occupy oneself between temptations. The skydiving had been fun, if a little deja vu. But the hunting had been distinctly... unsavoury, and if Crowley were to be perfectly honest with himself, he'd have to admit that the cloudwatching may have just been an excuse to lay on the beach all summer. At any rate, this time around, Crowley was learning to cook. Or trying to, at any rate. His general method consisted of letting the recipe book fall open on a random page, conjuring up the ingredients, and mixing them together haphazardly until he inevitably got distracted. He'd started out with something simple - a summer salad. Only then Aziraphael had dropped by, and they'd wound up re-working their theories concerning the forbidden fruit. And when he'd been about to paint the honey glazing on the ham, the angel had showed up again. Aziraphael had been very distracted by the honey.

Oh well. If at first you don't succeed, wasn't that how the saying went? Crowley reached for the recipe book, balanced it on its spine, and let it fall open. Profiteroles. Crowley grinned, and began to whip the cream.