lekaidescope
Recent bookmarks
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A Letter from Whizzer Brown to Marvin Brown, Bellevue Hospital, Patient Room 209, 1981 by maybeeatspaghetti
Fandoms: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
09 Jun 2021
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Summary
Whizzer says goodbye.
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Summary
"Well," he says. His voice is dry, because his throat is dry, and he absently remembers days of fetching Whizzer ice chips, how his skin was hot and clammy but his lips were cool, and Marvin refused to ever stop kissing him. "I guess this is romantic, in a way."
Marvin tests positive. People deal, mostly badly.
Bookmarked by lekaidescope
24 Feb 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
this was poetic. perfectly aligned with the tragic comedy from canon, I can see this being real. That ending hurt.
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Whizzer Always Lands on His Feet by Cade Welentine (cadewelentine)
Fandoms: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
12 Jul 2017
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Summary
In going through Whizzer's belongings, Marvin and Cordelia come across a box of Polaroids that chronicle Whizzer's life, and each learns new things about a man they thought they knew.
Bookmarked by lekaidescope
19 Feb 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
oh, man. This hit HEAVY. I normally hate major character death fics, and this was just as painful, but such a good story to follow. I felt so deeply for Whizzer and Marvin, and everyone was fleshed out so well (FINALLY some Trina & Whizzer friendship, just like we deserved). I hope death comes this gently.
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- Words:
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- Works:
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- Bookmarks:
- 29
Bookmarked by lekaidescope
16 Feb 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
pause this is genuinely so scrumptious… cute romance, good angst, both daddy issues and DADDY issues..? fucking cute, man
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Summary
Post-season-two. Crowley's moping, Aziraphale wants to fix things, and turns out, there's enough blame to go around.
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“You’re being ridiculous.”Crowley very nearly falls over.
Like, actually. He very nearly loses balance for no reason at all and tumbles to the sidewalk next to his car. He’s been playing Aziraphale’s voice in his head for weeks, he’s been trying very hard to drown out the sound of it, in fact, and now suddenly, abruptly—
“What are you doing here,” is all he can think to say. He whirls around, and there he is. On Crowley’s right, standing there like he’d never left. Where he belongs, Crowley’s mind helpfully supplies. He wishes he could punch himself in the brain, knock the thoughts right on out of there.