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many-gay-magpies · 12 days ago

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2024 Writing Year in Review

Tagged by @babyseraphim, thank you so much friend!! This kind of thing is so fun <3 Starting in March because I didn’t post any in 2024 before then (but WHOO BOY have I been on a role since)

March

Of Kings and Splintered Gods - BBC Merlin

When Kilgarrah had bathed Excalibur in his fire, he’d said it would enable the blade to kill anything, mortal or magical, living or dead. Later, when Merlin was able to think more deeply on the prophecies and began to have some rather disturbing realizations about himself, he came to the conclusion that being stabbed by Excalibur would just kill him. Mortal or non-mortal, after all; that was the clause. Apparently, that clause didn’t apply to Emrys. Merlin should have known. Merlin wasn’t just immortal; he couldn’t die. The Balance wouldn’t let him. So the two had compromised: Merlin had, by the cut of Excalibur’s blade, been broken into millions of tiny pieces and scattered across the entirety of the globe. — OR: an exploration into what would happen if Merlin got stabbed by Excalibur.

If You Saw My Trouble, You’d be Scared - Teen Wolf

Isaac snorts. “You’re not doomed, Scott.” Scott shrugs. “Maybe. But—that’s not the point. The point is, I guess—if you like her, and she likes you, then—“ Isaac’s shaking his head before Scott can even get the whole sentence out. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he says quietly. The phrase is familiar in a way that makes Isaac ache, and he doesn’t know why until— Scott looks up at him, all dark eyes and boundary-breaking sincerity, and says, “I don’t wanna hurt you, either.” — From Deaton’s animal clinic to Beacon Hills Memorial, Isaac finds home in his pack—and in one Alpha and Hunter pair in particular.

Where You go, I'm Going - Teen Wolf

They shower at the same time, like they always used to when they were kids and Melissa would herd them into the tub after a day of frolicking in the sun so they didn't track dirt through the house. Those days were playful days—moments of respite in the intermittent dreariness of Stiles's mom's sickness and Scott's parents' divorce—and often devolved into bubble fights drenching an impressive area of the bathroom for two seven-year-old boys. Now it's different, but still familiar. They're almost ten years older. It's gasoline instead of mud being washed off their skin, and so much has changed, but they're still them. Still Scott and Stiles. — Missing scene of Scott and Stiles taking care of each other before leaving the Glen Capri.

April

Nothing Wrong With a Little Space (But not Right Now) - Teen Wolf

"I'm sorry," Isaac says into Scott's throat. Scott doesn't say it's okay, this time. He just crushes Isaac impossibly closer, breath trembling where it's buried in Isaac's curls, fingers digging into Isaac's shoulders through his shirt. "Just—stay," he says. "Here. For tonight." — Before Isaac leaves for France with Argent, he and Scott say their goodbyes.

All in, Palms Out - Teen Wolf

Allison takes Scott in, then. And she—well, she sees. She sees how his hand is still clenched around Isaac’s arm, thumb rubbing slowly back and forth like he’s barely even cognizant of it. She sees how his brows furrow and how he’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. She sees how his eyes have gone heavy, trained on Isaac’s profile, a renaissance painting even with the black burns up his neck and cheek—pain and regret mixed in with something oddly familiar Allison can’t place. Allison isn’t entirely sure why she does it. On a whim, she asks, “Do you love him?” — Allison thinks about Isaac, Scott, love, and what it means to be brave.

Pinhole - Teen Wolf

Jackson doesn’t remember much from when he was under Matt’s control, but he remembers the rave. Erica in front of him. Her blond hair, her brown eyes. Her devilish smile. Another body behind hers. Another presence, this one taller; taller than Jackson. Light eyes, but heavy, staring Jackson down, pinning him like a butterfly on a board—and in the present Jackson blames Lydia for injecting that particular metaphor into his head, but in the memory he could only feel pinned.

May

The Art of Rebuilding the Self - BBC Merlin

Merlin loved them. He’d been reborn knowing it, the feeling as ingrained in his reconstruction as his DNA. He hadn’t known it before—but it had been there, he was sure, and when he broke, it lay in the ruins waiting for him, impossible to ignore. He loved them both, his king and his queen, far more than he should have, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop it. Not when they made him feel whole in a way little else seemed to accomplish. — Sequel to Of Kings and Splintered Gods, focused on the coalescence of the polyamory the first piece hinted at.

Like a Tidal Wave - Teen Wolf

Scott is enough for this, though. Enough to hold Isaac in the dark, and take his pain, and sooth him to sleep. Enough to love him. And—fuck, he does. It’s not just attraction, and it’s not just a crush. Scott still loves Allison, but he knows that he loves Isaac, too. He’d hold Isaac in a heartbeat; hold him close with arms and hands and heart alike, but so too would he hold him back from every violence, if only to know it would keep him safe. Scott’s heart doesn’t do things halfway. It never has before; he doesn’t know why he expected it to start now. — In the midst of grappling with the alpha pack, the Darach, and his encroaching true alpha status, Scott falls in love with Isaac—while still being just as in love with Allison. To say the least, it’s confusing.

July

To a Grave Dug for Fear - Dead Boy Detectives

Over the years, Edwin had documented two exceptions to the rule of ghosts being unable to touch or feel (cat scratches, iron, and other supernatural plights notwithstanding). One: ghosts could touch and feel each other. Two: ghosts could touch and feel in hell. Edwin had never cared much for physical contact with others while he was alive, and his distaste only worsened in hell. In hell, to touch was to be torn apart, and to feel was to feel pain. The loss of that, Edwin thought, was no loss at all. Then came Charles Rowland. — A thought piece exploring Edwin’s relationship with touch, his relationship with Charles, and how the two have intersected over the years.

August

Where Primroses Bloom - Dead Boy Detectives

“I dunno what being in love’s supposed to feel like,” Charles had confessed. “I dunno if it’s how I feel about you, or if I even can feel it. But I know I have never loved a single person in my life more than I love you. I know I’d go to hell a million times if it could keep you safe. I’d fight Lucifer themself to keep you safe. I’d do it in a heartbeat. And, I mean—that's as good a place to start as any, innit?” And Edwin, sitting below Charles in his chair, hand brushing Charles’s on the desk, had smiled and said, “I would think it is a great deal more than that.” OR: An exploration of Edwin and Charles's boundary-defying love for each other, as facilitated by reading aloud as a love language.

September

The Curious Tongue - Dead Boy Detectives

Edwin isn’t even thinking when he presses the pad of his thumb down on the soft, wet surface of Charles’s tongue. Or, well—he is thinking, but only about how he needs Charles’s tongue to stop moving so he can better examine his molars for fungal remains. What ends up happening, though, is that Charles makes the loveliest, breathiest little noise, and Edwin becomes suddenly, intimately aware of how—well, intimate this all is. — After the conclusion of a case involving a particularly insidious variety of ghost fungus, the possibility of Charles having been infected sends Edwin into an investigative frenzy—and leads to a series of rather exhilarating (if inappropriately-timed) revelations for the two detectives.

October

You've got Me in Your Pull (Please Don't Release) - Dead Boy Detectives

Charles still hasn’t quite gotten used to how good it feels, like this. He’s still a little scared of it, sometimes. But Edwin’s good at chasing off the fear. Chasing off everything, really. Somewhere between the start of the night and now, the rest of the world’s slipped out the back door, leaving this as the only solid anchor in Charles’s fuzzed-out mind. He feels strung out on it; tethered by it. Well. It, and one other thing. — Charles and Edwin take their exploration a bit deeper.

Le Chéile, Cloachlaithe - Dead Boy Detectives

Edwin knew, even before returning to the office, how the night would go. He saw it in the heavy bags beneath Charles's eyes; in the way he trembled slightly with every step, his smile pulled too tight at the edges. Sure enough, Charles’s body had flickered away in the embrace they shared in the office doorway, melting off him like candle wax beneath a flame as soon as Edwin whispered to him, ‘let go’. Then he’d slipped further, the softly-pulsing sphere of him pushing through Edwin’s facsimile of a ribcage and into his vacant chest cavity, settling right where Edwin’s heart would have been. Charles’s last words had been a gentle order for Edwin to get some rest, too, to which Edwin had responded with murmured ascent. — A harrowing case leaves both the boys worn out. Charles orbs out, but Edwin stubbornly foregoes rest to continue working. Charles is not having it.

November

Take Me Under (Take Me Home) - Dead Boy Detectives

Ghosts cannot feel cold, but Charles is shivering, so hard it would be sending ripples out through the water if he were corporeal. Ghosts cannot get wet, either, but Charles is positively drenched, glistening curls sticking to his forehead and sending rivulets down his unsettlingly grey face. His deep brown eyes are wide, but not in the lovely, doe-gazed way that so often sends Edwin’s undead heart into a tailspin. Instead, they are wide in the way of a deer in the headlights; stock still in the face of oncoming terror. Paralyzed, not in the present, but in some past memory of dread—so consuming it blots out everything else. “Charles? What’s wrong?” Edwin asks. Yet even before the question has left his mouth, he already knows. — A trap orchestrated by a deceased wizard drops the boys into the middle of the ocean, and Charles’s fear of water makes an appearance.

Reach Out and Touch - Dead Boy Detectives

Crystal’s fingers are aching. Maybe it’s from how long she’s been holding them still to let the polish dry, but they feel restless; like she wants to curl them around something, do something, make something with them— Okay, that feeling’s not new. It’s probably not the polish. It keeps cropping up in Crystal’s mind, usually when something good is happening, like she can’t just let herself live in the moment. Like it’s too much to just feel. She has to make it permanent somehow; make it immortal. “Hey, Niko?” Crystal asks, waiting until Niko pauses the show and turns towards her to continue. “Do you have any paper?”

December

Honey, it's Easier - Dead Boy Detectives

Edwin knows this is new for Charles. He understands, when Charles wants to take it slow. When they are kissing—because kissing is something they do, now—and Charles pulls back just when Edwin can feel it getting heavy, huffing something about not wanting to rush things. Edwin can give Charles time to get used to this; as much time as he needs. He can satisfy himself with daydreams and thoughts of Charles in the meantime, as long as it takes for Charles to be ready for more. Forever, if he never is. But god, Edwin does not want it to be forever. — After beginning a romantic relationship, Edwin assumes Charles is not yet ready for sex due to his unfamiliarity with same-sex relations, and Charles assumes Edwin is not yet ready for sex due to his unfamiliarity with any-sex relations. Naturally, they do exactly zero communication about this.

To Watch You as You Wake - Dead Boy Detectives

He tries to breathe through it; through the memory of frigid November lake water, bruised ribs, and rattling lungs. Laid overtop are the phantom sensations of a few lashes across his back—stone bleeding into leather—and a rough palm to his cheek. Lovely things, dreams. November. ‘Tis the season, then. — Charles gets woken up by a nightmare. Set in the universe of DontOffendTheBees's Something I Can Turn To.

Rooftop Talks - Dead Boy Detectives

This is something they have begun doing, since Port Townsend. The darkness makes it easier to speak. It makes it easier to tell the truth, when for so many years they both have grown too used to politely sidestepping each others’ most tender wounds—the wounds that, in truth, most needed tending.

Man that was a wild ride lmao. I don't think about my writing improving over the course of the year, but as I was copying down the summaries for my early 2024 fics I just kept being like "damn I can do much better than this now" XD.

For this I'll be tagging @wordsinhaled, @shadowquill17, @blusandbirds (I meant to tag you at first too oops- editing), and anyone else who wants to do it! And ofc, no pressure to participate if you don't want ^^

#tag games #magpie's writing adventures #I love shit like this skjhfksjhfk #funny how you can tell how June was the month where I jumped ships from teen wolf to dbda #fighting the pull away from the werewolves and towards the gay ghosts #and July is when I gave in #magpie writes #<- since it is a compilation of all my fics from the year #anyways. onto tag game number two >:) (thank you nimm these are so fun)

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