Fic Archive

Thought it was about time I organized everything.

Disclaimer: Hot Fuzz and any other fandoms I happen to write in are not mine.

My fic tends to skirt the broad G to R range, with swearing, slash, and mild references to drugs and sex. If you don't think you could tolerate any of those, you probably won't enjoy my fic, and you certainly wouldn't enjoy Hot Fuzz: in which case, why are you here again?

Combined Projects

Sympathy for the Devil, with waffleguppies 
     Introduction: Saturday
     Chapter 1: Sunday, part 1
     Chapter 1: Sunday, part 2
     Chapter 2: Monday, part 1
     Chapter 2: Monday, part 2
     Chapter 2: Monday, part 3
     Chapter 3: Tuesday, part 1
     Chapter 3: Tuesday, part 2
     Chapter 3: Tuesday, part 3
     Chapter 3: Tuesday, part 4
     Chapter 3: Tuesday, part 5
     Chapter 3: Tuesday, part 6
     Chapter 4: Thursday, part 1
     Chapter 4: Thursday, part 2
     Chapter 4: Thursday, part 3
     Chapter 5: Friday, part 1
     Chapter 5: Friday, part 2
     Chapter 5: Friday, part 3
     Chapter 6: Saturday, part 1
     Chapter 6: A few days later, part 2

Werewolves of London Series
     Part 1 - What Big Eyes You Have
     Part 2 - What Big Ears You Have
     Part 3 - What A Big Nose You Have
     Part 4 - What Big Paws You Have
     Part 5 - What BIg Teeth You Have

     A Copper's Instinct
     Chapter 1
     Chapter 2
     Chapter 3
     Chapter 4
     Chapter 5
     Chapter 6
     Chapter 7
     Chapter 8
     Chapter 9
     Chapter 10
     Chapter 11
     Chapter 12

Chutney on Toast
     Part 1
     Part 2
     Part 3
     Part 4

Different but the Same

Just a Game

My Fic

The Start and End of Things
     How It Begins
     We All Float On

Comedy of Errors


Starring a Fan-Girling Doris

Simple Needs

Let Slip the Dogs of War - Part 6

Title: Let Slip the Dogs of War
Authors: waffleguppies and marshwiggledyke
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Rating: R for war and language, 1940's attitudes, mild PTSD
Characters/Pairings: Eventual Nicholas/Danny, Frank Butterman, Doris Thatcher, Bob Walker

Author's Notes: Been a while since I've updated a new chapter, isn't it? Jeez, I'm sorry. More later this week, I promise.

I used to do a bit of fishing when I was in the single digits, but I never caught much more than minnows (and I always let them go). Sorry if we got anything wrong in that category.

After the Berlin Olympics of 1936, there were no Olympics worldwide for twelve years- in 1940, Tokyo was stripped of its hosting city qualifications and the Olympics cancelled- twice- due to everyone killing the shit out of each other. The 1948 Olympics were indeed held in London and opened by King George the Sixth. Japan and Germany were not invited, and the USSR chose to ignore the event altogether.

Nicholas has been living within walking distance of the Limehouse Chinatown, if not living directly inside the district, and so probably popped by for a cheap vegetarian meal now and then. As a result, he's got a rudimentary understanding of Mandarin and probably has had a few friends among the restaurant owners.

Eating horsemeat is/was supposedly taboo in Britain, much as eating cats or dogs in our culture is taboo. But with the anonymous nature of tinning foods, many people were eating rations mislabeled as 'beef' for years after the war.

I was reading the Charioteer an awful lot while writing this bit, particularly drawing on the second half of chapter four for inspiration, and reading it now- over a year later- it really shows.

Skinny-dipping back in the 1940s among same-sex friends doesn't seem to be nearly so taboo as it is nowadays. Aside from a cultural blindspot for homosexuality (especially from war heroes, who were seen as too rugged and manly to possibly do anything of the sort), it seems to have been an acceptable outlet for boyish good spirits, especially during/after the war, where men had to share extremely close quarters. I have seen so many B&W photos of nubile young British men from the 1920s to the 1940s, grinning up out of streams/ponds/etc, found with only a bit of googlefu. There's such a sense of unabashed innocence in these pictures to make them impossible to titillate or be pornographic- it's rather sweet.

With that said, this is probably the most damn homoerotic part of this story. Let the splashings- innocent or not- begin.


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I made some.


Read this story here. It's amazing.

equivalence, without music - in case you really hate Dar Williams or something.

Working on podficcing the other half of the remix, but my home life has seriously gone to shit right now and I am looking to move out. If anyone wants to submit it to jinjurly, they are more than welcome to with my and intro's blessing.

One of the best reviews I read of equivalence was [info]mod5nar 's piece:

"Oh wow.

I'm just going to take a moment here to express my love for this fandom and you.

I don't know what it is about Sherlock, but, well. I've been in various fandoms for ages, most of which contained people who'd most likely be totally accepting of various trans and genderqueer people, but it never got written. If it did, it featured trans women, a lack of knowledge, and no sex. The first FTM fic I read was essentially a drabble, and I nearly cried from happiness. I find this fandom, and with it something like four FTM-centered fics, several MTF, and genderqueer fic, and I am floored. It's easy to convince oneself that it's okay not to show up in stories, but once you find representation it's obvious how meaningful it is to be able to see people like you reflected there."


Ink in the Ice

Title: Ink in the Ice
Author: marshwiggledyke 
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Rating: PG-13 for harsh survival situations, pre-neolithic pagan magic ceremonies, heavily implying the existence of cannibalism practices.
Characters: Mycroft before he was Mycroft, Sherlock before he was Sherlock. Two OMCs, one alive, one recently dead.

Author's Notes: This is a prequel to an AU in the works, so I don't expect people to really get what the hell is going on until wafflestories and I actually publish the main story. I decided to start from the beginning, or as near to a beginning I could get. Mycroft is a ageless, sentient tattoo. So is Sherlock. But you always have to start somewhere.

Heavily inspired by the death of Otzi, some of the elements from Terry Pratchett's Nation, Kit's Wilderness, the amazing indy film The Man From Earth, and half a dozen different tattoos.

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Let Slip the Dogs of War - Part 5

Title: Let Slip the Dogs of War
Authors: waffleguppies and marshwiggledyke
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Rating: R for war and language, 1940's attitudes, mild PTSD
Characters/Pairings: Eventual Nicholas/Danny, Frank Butterman.

Author's Notes: Ratlines (escaping Nazi Party members from Europe to South America) did really exist. So did Churchill's undeployed Operation Unthinkable against the Soviets. Dude hated communists. Even though his country really couldn't afford an all-out nuclear war against the army that just shouldered off Operation Barbarossa and stormed Berlin like an angry termite nest (which is why his advisors neatly vetoed it and didn't talk about it for ages). Really puts this photograph into perspective.

Operation Terrier, though I don't remember making it up and seem to remember doing a good deal of research on exactly a year ago, does not turn up in when Googled, so I will have to say that my use of it being a British counterintelligence monitoring the ratlines is a completely made-up thing that compliments a universe where werewolves exist and a public that vaguely know about them.


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Let Slip the Dogs of War - Part 4

Title: Let Slip the Dogs of War
Authors: waffleguppies and marshwiggledyke
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Rating: R for war and language, 1940's attitudes, mild PTSD
Characters/Pairings: Eventual Nicholas/Danny, epic bromancey Andes, Turner Twins, Tony, Doris, Auntie Jackie.

Author's Notes: Finally, I start contributing to this story! With another writer in tow, the tone changes to a more lazy, dialogue-driven pace, which I think fits Sandford to a T.

Apologies in taking so long with getting this up- after the fourth time LJ ate my notes and formatting, and then with the Blitz of DDoS hiccups, it's taken me a while to reorganize everything and have the energy to post.

There really was a bridge in Jesteburg, and it really was blown all to buggery by the Wehrmacht to prevent British troops from using the rails to transport supplies and further advance on Berlin. (Not that this really helped; British occupation of Berlin might have been better for its occupants than the undiluted Soviet rage it actually experienced.)

Less than three weeks later, Germany surrendered.

The East End (historically a heterogenous mix of immigrants, backgrounds and society, and thus a prime target for the Luftwaffe) was worst hit by the London Blitz- the homeless took to living in the London Underground. Children collected bits of bomb in the street (which adults did their best to confiscate). When Buckingham Palace was hit during a raid, the Queen remarked, “I'm glad we've been bombed. It makes me feel I can look the East End in the face.”

The first VE day was reportedly quiet in the UK, outside of London (which reacted to the news in much the same way as New York City to Obama's election, whooping and partying and flooding the streets, hugging strangers, etc.) There were still rationing restrictions on luxury items, and most people were so exhausted that celebrations were a little on the half-hearted side. Many of the soldiers, doctors, airmen and civil defense forces weren't on leave yet. Having held the wolf at their door for five and a half years, (and for several of those, completely alone) the shock of German surrender, of it all being over and done, made for a muted, stunned entry into personal journals and letters.

A year later, people actually had the enthusiasm and energy and economy to celebrate. And that's where our story starts in this chapter.


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Small cute.

Opened the New York Times today and stumbled over a picture of a little kid trying to open a woodworking clamp, and not quite managing it.

First impression: aw.

Second impression: hey, that could almost be john, in that crime scene on the beach in TGG. Only wee.

Third impression: heyyyy... isn't he wearing nail polish?

Daw. I'm just so tickled by SWAT kid learning to woodwork and screwing up his face with effort like some DIY American ideal in miniature and.... nail polish. Gender defying shit, right there. SWAT kid and SWAT kid's parents are awesome.

Let Slip the Dogs of War - Part 3

Title: Let Slip the Dogs of War
Authors: waffleguppies  and marshwiggledyke 
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Rating: R for war and language, 1940's attitudes
Characters/Pairings: Eventual Nicholas/Danny, bromance-ish Andes, Turner Twins, Tony.

Author's Notes: Still all waffleguppies's writing. She is completely awesome.


This late in the war, the Germans are demoralized and underfunded. The Russians are marching towards Berlin, Hitler is deteriorating in a bunker; his orders are being ignored by German generals with a sense of reality. The Minister of Propaganda, Joseph Goebbels, starts broadcasting over the radio the idea that a force of insurgents were running wild, attacking Allies and generally being quite dangerous bastards, something to rally around.

This underground force is called Werwolf.


It also never effectively existed. Werwolf units were poorly trained, poorly equipped, and horribly organized. Within months, the insurgency fell apart, with armament supplies being desperately and disorganizedly buried for troops not properly trained to handle them and who weren't even informed about where to dig them up. Most weapon caches were found by the Russians.

Werwolf had such a fearsome reputation (over the radio, War of the Worlds-style) that Allied forces completely overestimated the retreating Germans, and killed an awful lot of the German civilians (because, y'know, insurgents generally look like the populace) and military alike.

In short, it was an operation full of Fail and Thimbles.

Still got a pretty sweet name, though.

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