🇵🇸 loopslop laureate

ALT text of the opening paragraph from my fic "no time for rewrites"; sevika's pov, post-canon. it reads: "The Last Drop looks different now. 'Course it does. New management will do that. That's fine, it's still what's on the inside that counts, and the clientele remains the same shabby scheming drunks they've always been. Less of them, sure, but always the same sort. There's nowhere else for fuckers like them to go."

ALT text of the opening paragraph from my fic 'nothing speaks to you in the night'; non-famous au, taehyung pov. it reads: "Light and sound float like bugs at stagnant water around Taehyung’s periphery, his orange vision replete with veins that reach up like greedy tree branches. A steady beep and the sticky smell of iodine cling to him, keeping him here, wherever ‘here’ might be. He’s prone and arranged in a way that doesn’t let him move the way his body should move, and any attempt feels heavy, so much harder to try than it should be. His mouth is dry, throat swollen with fuzz."

ALT text of the opening paragraph from my fic 'in the mortal attire'; urban fantasy au, vampire!jayce pov. it reads: "It seemed like kind of a cliché, or maybe an unfinished joke– a vampire and an insomniac working nights. To Jayce and Viktor it was just a regular Friday. "

ALT text: opening paragraph from my fic 'half-pint howitzer'; hockey au, andrew pov. it reads: "They almost made it through second period without a scrap, but Andrew should’ve known better than to hope for anything resembling restraint where Josten was involved. Something about the left-winger got every d-man saddled with him itching to get sticks down and gloves off, and this game’s Oiler dipshit was no different. The ref’s whistle sounded fast and the linesman rolled his eyes - they knew the routine by this point - but Richards still yanked at Josten’s jersey and reared his fist back, geared like a cannon. It was probably hard to hear the ref calling for them to knock it off over the baying roar of the crowd, whipped up after an admittedly pedestrian start to the season finally exploded. Josten was too good at that, relied a little too heavily on skating circles around defence and goading them into bloodlust, usually with something completely out of pocket while Diaz or whoever took a