#and i reply to them with snippets that match the vibe!

[walkinginland]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

very kindly tagged by @freneticfloetry and @three-drink-amy. thanks, friends!!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

20! Three of those are drabble compilations, how I keep my 100-word drabbles organized for different fandoms, but I'm counting them 😂

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

35,104. I don't know how to write long lmao.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Most of my fics (15 of them to be exact, as well as the main longer fic I'm writing atm) are for Outlander, but I've written for a total of 5 fandoms, and hop between them at different times. In addition to Outlander, I have fics/drabbles for The Song of Achilles, The Last Binding Trilogy, 911, and 911: Lone Star.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

To Heart and Home (Outlander, multichap, canon divergent) - by farrrrr, which makes sense, as it's my only multichap

Foundations (Outlander, one shot, canon compliant)

return my fists to fingers (The Last Binding, one shot, canon compliant)(i need more of yall to read these books and write fic for them. i need it)

Sunlight (The Song of Achilles, one shot, canon compliant)

Grievances Raised (Outlander, one shot, modern au)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I don't post often enough that I get an overwhelming amount of comments or anything, so it's not a huge burden to reply to them all. I just am continually baffled by people reading what I write, it genuinely blows my mind.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hmmmmmm. a lot of what I write is pretty angsty, but I love finding and weaving out the thread of hope that lives in those broken places. That said, does heaven have enough angels yet is pretty rough. It's a canon compliant little snippet from the pov of a stillborn infant so like...... she's sad. there's still hope tho! always still hope.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

ooo probably the fluffiest happy fic I have is All the Colors in the Rainbow! It ends with all the Frasers going off to Pride, and it makes me hella happy.

The happiest fic story-wise is probably To Heart and Home, just because it fixes The Main Fuckening that happens in Outlander and brings that family back together earlier.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

*knocks on wood* i haven't yet!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't, I'm not brave enough. The closest I came to it was with Grievances Raised, wherein Claire pegs the brains out of her husband, but I only wrote the aftermath.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I haven't done one yet!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of 🤞🏻

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so? I feel like I remember someone asking me to translate To Heart and Home a few years ago, but I don't know if anything ever came of it.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't! I feel like I would be the worst co-writer lol, I am farrrr too slow.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

to write? idk, probably Jamie and Claire? I just feel like I know them, inside and out. I don't have to look for their voices, they're right there.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

oh god, so many outlander ones lmao.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I am really good at matching the tone of the source material! Once I get the voice of the characters/narration/general story style, I feel like I can reproduce the general vibes of canon. I think that's why I sometimes have an easier time with writing fic from stories in the form of books - there's a written tone I can internalize. And consequently, why I've had a harder time with nailing a voice for 911 or Lone Star, even though I do want to eventually write fic for those shows.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue and plot! I write Vibes™, but I don't know how to write actual Stories. I would love to be that writer who could crank out a whole story with a plot and shit, because I love that type of fic with my whole self, but my brain just functions in vibes.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I am a Coward about it. I've written a fair amount of Gàidhlig into my Outlander fics, especially in To Heart and Home, and honestly I think I've done a pretty good job with it. I spent a lot of time researching the language, up to and including researching grammar structures and taking duolingo lessons at the beginning of the pandemic for a few months. I've forgotten most of it now though, despite duolingo being extremely persistent with its reminders lmao.

However.

If I were to write for 911 and Lone Star like I would like to, I would like to include some Spanish into those stories (especially with Lone Star), and I just don't think I would do it justice. I failed Spanish miserably in high school, and haven't taken a stab at it since. If I include it I want to do it well and respectfully, ya know? I'm bilingual (just not with Spanish lol) and an interpreter, and I think that has brought with it a better understanding of just how complicated language is, and how easy it is to fuck it up when you don't know what you're doing. And as a very white person, I also don't want to act like I know fuck-all about a non-white language and culture when I don't.

Sooooo, I'm a coward about it atm. Hoping to get better eventually though!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Outlander! Never ever thought I would write fic, didn't think I was "allowed." Hadn't ever written anything creatively before (in english at least), so it was a big jump for me. this makes it sound like english is my second language, when really it's just that the first time that anyone made me write creatively was in my deaf lit class

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Oh god this changes all the time. At the moment I've feeling very tender towards into the empty parts of me. It's a really tragic part of canon, but just gorgeous character potential. I loved how gentle this turned out, how John and Claire had a moment of healing in the middle of their tragedy.

But also I think that the fic I'm writing right now is gonna turn out to be my favorite ❤ once I get the writing juices flowing again for one last section 🤞🏻

I'm not sure who all has done this already, but no pressure tagging @liminalmemories21, @flyinghome-againstthewind, @theawkwardterrier, @homerforsure, @paperstorm

[dvilsdesire]

MUN MONDAY: GETTING TO KNOW YOU

Respond to the following prompts out of character, then tag others you'd like to get to know a little bit better!

ROLEPLAYER NAME: You can call me Owl, or Sam. :) Whatever you prefer.

ROLEPLAYER PRONOUNS: He/Him

MUSE NAME: Haarlep.

PREFERRED COMMUNICATION: I'm fine with either IM's or Discord. Time zones are a bit shit for me since I live in Australia, but I'll catch you when I can.

EXPERIENCE: I've been Rping way over a decade now. On tumblr? Since... 2012, I think? But waaay before then, back in probably 2007 or something. I've Rped on multiple platforms.

PREFERRED ROLEPLAY TYPE: I greatly prefer para/novella. I like delving into a character's mind and thought process. I know I write a LOT of inner monologue for my muses as well, I actually STRUGGLE with short replies, so when someone gives me a single para or line... it's really difficult for me to match that short length, but it's also something that I don't really vibe with. I greatly prefer longer replies. I want to delve into characters and see how they react, I want to learn all of those little things about your muses as well. I'm a sucker for character development. I'm also a fan of the nitty gritty.

PET PEEVES & DEALBREAKERS: One line responses. Please, for the love of god... give me something to work with. It's a quick way for me to show disinterest and likely not really reach out to write with unless it's something that I am REALLY enjoying for small snippets. But please, I greatly prefer longer replies. Short ones also make me feel like you're just not interested in what my characters have to say :/ Please read my rules, whilst I know we can't remember EVERYONE'S rules (seriously, I forget as well!), it is obvious when people don't. If my muse is a muse of power or something, then please treat them as such. If your muse ends up wanting to attack or something, and they are of a lower class... then they won't win. It's just that simple. Respect the power of certain muses.

PLOTS OR MEMES: I like both and am fine with both. Whilst I LOVE plotting and getting to know muses and getting an idea of where we can go, I also understand that sometimes our brains are just too tired from real life and memes can be something simpler and quicker. I think both of them are very good for very different reasons, which I'm fine with both. By all means, memes are EXCELLENT ice breakers imo, and then we can always plot something once we've established a little starter. :)

LONG REPLIES OR SHORT REPLIES: Long, lol. As covered in my previous responses.

BEST TIME TO WRITE: I get a lot more done when I'm writing in the mornings. Obviously due to work, I am tired in the evenings, so I get very little done (Haarlep has certainly reawakened my muse tho I'm shocked at how much I've been writing on my work nights lol). I mostly write on Fridays as it's the only day I have to myself, so I try and churn out as many replies as I can, but once it hits the afternoon, I'm pooped lol. So yeah, mornings are definitely best!

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSES: Haarlep? Absolutely not. Haarlep caught me by utter surprise when it came to being a muse of mine. I saw him once, had a little laugh, and suddenly he wouldn't leave my mind, and then I just... had the persistent urge to write them. I'm very happy that he did come to me, though, as he's really been helpful in making me come back to RP on a more regular basis and I've had such a good time exploring him. But no, we're absolutely nothing alike. Haarlep is an incubus, and I'm asexual as fuck lol. If anything, and don't take this the wrong way because it's probably going to sound BAD lol, but I have more in common with Raphael than I do with Haarlep X'D and that's... saying something, since I am not an evil devil hahaha. The only thing I think I could say about me and Haarlep being similar is the fact that I can mask like a beast in public. (: Even then, that's entirely different to what Haarlep is doing, I'm just masking because I'm austistic and people have expectations of me in society lol, Haarlep is masking because he's trying to seduce and eat someone hahaha.

Tagged by: @shimmerbeasts Tagging: @astralrogue @chaoticbard @dcwncametheclaw @galefcrce @azzagrazt and anyone else! Tag me so I can read :)

[piratefalls]

WIP title game! I was tagged by @ereborne!

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

the list of things I've left unfinished is short, so I'll include a snippet with each one. it's also 85% mcdanno lmao.

Give Me a Memory I Can Use (McDanno, finale fix-it)

“Hey, Steve?” He looks down to see her smiling. “Be happy.” He returns her smile. “Hey Cath?” “Yeah?” “I think it’s my turn to walk away.” This time she grins. “I think so too.” So he pulls his bag from the bin, and does.

Share the Scars From Our Abandon (Person of Interest/Rinch, post-series)

Night after night he reaches out for something, anything, to soothe the ever-present ache under his ribs, the one that calls to him when the sun goes down, reminds him that he has family, love, a home somewhere out there, wishing he were in it right now, if only he’d seek it out. The one that reminds him that human connection does not have to be a foreign concept any longer, that it is instead a patchwork quilt of messy, complicated, beautiful people to call his, the place where he drops anchor and floats steady. His body, so broken in so many ways, can now recall a touch that does not hurt, the smell of fresh brewed coffee and old books, the sound of a heart that beats in time with his own.

Untitled Finale Fix-it #2 (McDanno)

His buddy introduces him to the group, since he's apparently a legend. He talks about his life post-SEALs. Later his friend would learn Steve hadn't retired but had been medically discharged. "Got shot. A lot," he says. "Needed a liver transplant." "How did you get one that fast? Anyone with half a brain cell could figure out those odds, factoring in the fact that you were on an island." And then he tells him about Danny, and the plane, that he'd saved Steve's life more than once that day. "Fuck." Steve laughs. "Pretty much."

super rough jotted down ideas for Ace!Henry FirstPrince (RWRB)

They do talk about how to navigate physical intimacy. Henry loves touch, craves it, wants to be wrapped up in and around Alex as often as possible, his breathing slowing to match the steady rhythm of Alex's heart under his cheek as they cuddle in bed. Holding hands, carding his fingers through Alex's hair, always touching touching touching. That's never been his problem. It's everything that's supposed to come after that gives him pause.

5+1 play on the practice of kintsugi (McDanno)

Three days later he listens to his father die over the phone. his whole team is dead, Anton Hesse is dead, everyone is dead. Freddie died and it was all for nothing. Freddie, the keeper of Steve's darkest secrets, the person who kept him tethered to the real world when all he'd wanted to do was fly apart, had sacrificed it all just to be given oblivion. A piece of Steve's heart is anchored somewhere in the middle of a North Korean jungle. He could give you the exact coordinates, but he won't. He doesn't want it back.

Can You Do It? (You Bet Jurassican) (buddie velocipastor au) (if you haven't watched the movie this will make less than zero sense)

No, Eddie Diaz - father, firefighter, combat veteran, boyfriend to an actual fucking dinosaur - is wearing a stretchy orange dress that, after he gets it all the way down, barely hits mid-thigh. Before he has a chance to pull it off and look for literally anything else, Buck comes around the corner and stops in his tracks. “Jinkies.” “Fuck you.” Buck gives him a quick look up and down and shrugs. “Fine with me. If I’m being honest Velma always lowkey gave me top vibes.” And that’s a discussion he’s not touching. “You’re an idiot and I hate everything you choose to be.” “Now that’s a lie and we both know it,” he replies.

no one has to participate, but if you do please tag me!

[ncoincidences]

I want to ask about all your WIPs tbh, but I'll go with frozen Regs werewolf :)

Hi Leo! Thank you :)

Sorry for the late reply, this was such a pain to format on mobile, tumblr was givin me a headache.

Anyway, this is actually a WIP that has been partly posted, and the first part is called secret.

So it began as a Frozen (2013) Regulus au, except it was like regulus is elsa and sirius is anna - but their ages are same as canon. But the vibes sisnt really fit, so I swiched it to something else. Npw, Regulus is a werewolf, turned when he was 9. He's homeschooled, but because his parents are tragically killed off by me when he's around fifteen yo, he's sent to Hogwarts. (There are more detailed notes about this au in the oneshot).

I'm currently preparing a sequel for it, and it's about Sirius finding out that Regulus is a werewolf. The main plot is that Regulus thinks Sirius already knows (amd hates him for it) but Sirius really doesn't know.

Here's a snippet from the sequel -

"You should join the Quidditch team, y'know, while the tryouts are still open," Sirius said, sticking close to Regulus as a group of students walked past them. "Yeah?" He added, when Regulus said nothing.

"I don't have much interest in Quidditch."

Sirius made a face. "Well, that’s… surprising. I think you were plenty excited for the World Cup we attended sometime before you... before I began Hogwarts… remember?"

Regulus almost tripped in surprise. It was before the bite, of course, and their Uncle Cygnus had taken them, a devoted fan of the Puddlemere United. Sirius had not loathed him, then, and that day was crisp and buttery like the popcorn they had during the match, the roar of fans and Sirius's laugh and his laugh bubbling up and over…

"I don't think I know what you're talking about."

"Oh. I suppose you were too young to remember? But… oh, well. You could try out and find out whether you really like it or not. Plenty of people are nervous about it in the beginning but turns out they're good at whatever position they chose to play."

"I'm not nervous."

"I'm not saying that, I'm saying it's okay to be."

The truth was that Regulus could not fly, and had never been taught how to. Werewolves did not live like wizardkind, after all. He was not sure he would be able to fly; nobody learnt it at such an advanced age of fifteen. 

[yogurtkags]

HI CID ♡✨✍🏼🎁 for the ask game !!!

HI YUE MILOVE

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic? waaa this is a tough question "just like clockwork, everyday as the sun dipped below the horizon, you’d gather at the foot of the maple tree in his backyard. this very tree, a safe haven of carved initials and music notes, a little bubble carrying the innocent hopes and dreams of two children, a lifelong promise." — from the prologue of "if not for you"

✨️ Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites? i love all the sweet tags and replies, but the ones that hit are when they say that i convert them into liking a character or that they smiled while reading it < 33

✍️ What’s your ideal writing setup? there is no ideal, just whenever the brain worms hit LOL which is usually either while on commute or winding down for the day in bed. i either write in silence, or to very specific music that matches the vibe of what i'm trying to write

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share? here's a little out of context snippet from a lil samu request that i'm working on rn (wyr i'm looking at you)

fanfic writer ask game!

[paperlegs]

Roleplay info

Third person writing and preferably past tense but I can do present as well.

On Discord or Tumblr. 16+ (18+ for anything with potential for spice)

Mostly fandomless, and my OCs can be any gender/identity/race/age/sexuality, if it needs to be changed to fit the prompt, no problem.

I could write paragraphs or tiny snippets, it depends on the scene (eg. Scenery vs quick dialogue) it can all vary.

I can play multiple characters ('npc' type characters, background characters) but will generally 'main' as one OC.

No pressure to match writing amounts either, but styles should be similar. Proper punctuation and stuff like that.

Also no pressure to reply. I'll check in after about a week of no response, and I encourage vice versa.

Only interested in romance based RPs if there's multiple plot lines (eg. romance + struggles of apocalypse/war/monsters, or if there's contrast between the characters, like enemies to lovers or forced interaction).

NSFW gore/horror/dark aspects are fine to be explicit.

Spicy NSFW info: Obviously 18+ for anything of sexual nature. I don't do explicit for it, either, as a heads up. Implied/suggested or 'soft' movie scene type descriptions is fine. I'm also sort of a uh...like, 95% plot, 5% explicit ratio type of person, so don't expect heaps lmao.

Things I like

Integration of species or societies and cultures. Love a good opposites/enemy into friends/lovers type scenario.

Anything with creatures

Aliens. Sci-fi. Tech. Except I don't know guns or anything about them except for pew pew, so I make it up.

Fantasy. Again, creatures, even good ol' arranged marriage stuff if there's extra plot in there.

Anything with the same vibes as Lighthouse Horror on youtube.

I like slice of life (SoL) aspects, but prefer it combined with other things like an overarching conflict (apocalypse, war, struggling society, or smaller things that affect just the characters, like being unhoused or in battles or something, etc) or to build characters or world build.

[mosviqu]

RICKY DESERVES ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLD SO THAT MAKES ME SO HAPPY;-; i was so shocked about jake🥸 AND ALSO THE PREVIEWS ARE OUT AND I ALTEADY REALLY LOVE ALL OF THE SONGS LMAO HOPE U WILL LIKE THEM AS WELL ONCE THEIR ALBUM IS OUT!!! ze_rose and i'm🥱 but i came to accept it and i just ignore the underscore AND VERY HAPPY U ARE JOINGING TO THE GASLIGHTING LMAO

IT IS A 10/10 THEY WENT OFF SOO HARD WITH THIS ALBUM MY GOD!!!! MY TOP THREE WAS BASICALLY THE SAME PORTRAIT OF A BLANK SLATE CONSEQUENCES AND SCUM and dude i'm never replying this late anymore cuz finding ur reply and the review was😭 FOR PORTRAIT OF A BLANK SLATE SO TRUE ITS AN 11/10 SONG I WAS SO SHOCKED THAT THIS IS ONLY THE FIRST SONG AND ITS ALREADY THIS GOOD?!??!?!!??! u saying consequences is the step sister of perfume makes so much sense oh lord!!! that is such a wilbur thing to say and how lovejoy is i actually wouldn't be surprised if they would pull through with that idea and really hoping for u that they actually will!!!! i love warsaw so muuuuchhhh and i hope he continues to write more about european cities🤭 and the line u quoted made my jaw drop ngl when i heard it🫡 yesss they did play it before to my knowledge and he even posted a snippet once on twitter!! and scum i just love it so much the chorus soo much AND YES THE WAY WILBUR SINGS IT IS SO ADDICTING IMO!!! and golden hour dude the song my jaw was dropped the whole time like for every reason possible ITS SUCH A GOOD SONG BUT THE LYRICS DEFF LEFT ME SPEECHLESS LIKE MY GOD and tbh this might also be my fav so might should add that to the other three ngl (and also u mentioning me in the tags got me🤭🤭🤭hihi)

and very glad to see ur reaction to jihoons cute hair so love the profile pic I HOPE HE WILL DO HIS HAIR LIKE THIS MORE OFTEN (liebestraum anon💕💕)

I FOUND OUT RECENTLY THAT HIS EMOJI IS A STRAWBERRY ????? I AM CRYING MY EYES OUT ?????? i AM stanning thats a given ill literally gaslight myself if the songs are bad /j i havent listened to the previews yet i only heard the title track on tiktok and its so good already i ???? i bet its gonna be amazing bc enha is always 0 skip to me. also its not ze_rose in my eyes thats so ugly zerose is so much better.

10/10 ALBUM INDEED I LOVE THAT I HAVE A LOVEJOY STAN FRIEND TO SCREAM ABT THIS WITH !!!!! glad our top 3 matches istg all of the songs are so good but these 3 hit the hardest. like i listened to the album in order and the first song started and i legit went 😟 oh lord. OH LORD this is gonna slap. AND AM I RIGHT OR AM I RIGHT the lyrics have similar vibe i love this kinds of songs SO. MUCH. like i would absolutely fucking lOOOVE a lovejoy concert id drag my brother w me (he doesnt listen to lovejoy but he used to watch his streams and mc vids). next lovejoy song is about to be abt prague i bet bc wilbur loves it sm. i wouldnt be mad about bratislava either tho just saying.... OH i knew i heard it before !! THE LYRICS TO GOLDEN HOUR..... MOUTH AGAPE SHOCKED. ((Im always gonna mention u in lovejoy stuff bc i always get reminded of u 😭😭😭)

jihoon is my babygirl his hair is so adorable i almost cried. space buns jihoon my beloved 💗 every time new pics of him come out i have the urge to change my theme DJSJSK

[liathgray]

emoji game for next chap or marelle, anyone?

[cupcakeslushie]

any fic recs for dick with eldest daughter syndrometm?

So the little snippets I drew aren’t necessarily from any fic per se, they are from my own brain, but I’d love to share the fics that got me feeling the Dick angst vibe!

And It Just Might Kill Us by Miyaji_08

“For the first time ever, things are finally looking up for the Wayne family. Bruce is back in the present, Jason has mostly reconciled with them all, and Damian no longer spends his free time trying to murder his brother in cold blood…So of course Dick has to go and ruin it all by putting together a family vacation from hell.”

Touch Starved by envysparkler

“Dick has a whole family who would rather stab him or themselves before embracing him, and he respects their boundaries, but sometimes he just wants a hug he doesn’t have to beg for.”

The Choice to Be Seen by forgetmenotjimmy (Warning for implied/referenced non-con)

“Nightwing has been split into three parts of his personality. Batfamily, react!”

No Choice At All by AuroraKant (Warning for implied/referenced non-con)

“When Dick gets hit by a spell during what should have been a standard drug bust, his world gets turned upside down. At least that is what his family says. Dick isn't sure he follows - being an obedient servant had always been his role in the family after all. AKA Dick has to follow every order and command - his family doesn't like it at all”

When it Rains by sELkieNight60

“Jason's return to 'life' (and the Wayne family) is the hot topic of the minute in Gotham. Every reporter wants an interview. Jason's siblings decide to do an interview together with him, in which Dick gets asked a rather personal question:

“What about yourself, Richard?” asks the reporter, widening her own insincere smile to match as she turns her torso half an inch towards him. “As the eldest I am sure you are simply overjoyed to have your brother back but, might I ask: why is it, do you think, that you are the only one of Mister Wayne's children that he hasn't formally adopted?”

Brunch With Bruce by DawnsEternalLight

“Dick’s overworked and exhausted, but he’s not going to let that (or a cold) keep him from having lunch with Bruce.”

With Wings So Bent I Can Barely Fly by sElkieNight60

“Dick doesn’t recognize the apathy for what it really is.”

Also the tag Dick Grayson has Eldest Daughter Syndrome has about two pages of some good stuff!

I wish I could remember more. And I hope I did this reply correctly. For being on tumblr since 2012 I hardly ever get any asks lol. ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

oh, honey || h. styles

warnings: mentions of sex, kissing

word count: 2.3k

summary: when harry is struck with writer’s block, you come to the rescue and inspire him to write a song, which later becomes known as ‘adore you’...

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t harbouring a crush on a man you’d known for about five years. And for four and half years of that, you found he was the only thing that seemed to occupy your mind. With any crush, it was fun at first. The thrill of being around him brought a new spark to your life. But then, gradually, it became tiresome; the constant butterflies and the overthinking every tiny action began to aggravate you.

You’d had a boyfriend since you met Harry. He loved you and you tried to love him. You knew it wasn’t fair on him, and you felt an ounce of extra guilt every day that relationship went on. You knew it was selfish to paint yourself a mirage of a perfect life with a man you knew you couldn’t love.

The relationship lasted eight months. It had never meant to last that long. At first, it was all fun and games - neither of you took things too seriously. A bit of harmless sex and late nights with red wine and David Attenborough documentaries. But then things took a turn, and he began talking of moving in together and meeting each other’s parents. Your parents would have loved him, you knew that. But what good was that when you didn’t love him?

Eventually, the two of you sat down and decided that maybe it was best if you went your separate ways. It was a mutual decision. And you both agreed that it was fun whilst it lasted. So, this relationship you’d gotten yourself into to get your mind off Harry had ended because you could never love this man the way he wanted you to.

It had been a rough eight months for you. Harry had been in somewhat of a mood with, well, everybody. Mitch concluded that he was probably just stressed with writing for the album and making sure everything was perfect for his debut solo album. But, though nobody necessarily picked up on it at the time, when you announced that you’d broken up with your boyfriend, Harry seemed to be in a much better mood ever since.

So, now, as you walked into the studio, you ran your hands along your jean-clad thighs. It was a desperate attempt to rid your palms of the sweat your nervousness had caused. Sarah had called you and asked if you were free to swing by the studio. She said something about needing a new mind to help Harry. Instantly, you agreed. You would always be there for Harry.

Sat on one of the couches was Harry Styles himself, his hand over his eyes. He was alone, his guitar beside him. A notebook of his lyrics was tossed aside, clearly neglected in tiredness or frustration. “Harry?” you called out, closing the door behind you.

He looked up quickly, startled by the sudden disturbance. “Y/N,” he smiled slightly, sitting up properly. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought you could use some help,” you shrugged, slipping out of your black puffer jacket. “And clearly you need it. Where is everyone?”

“Oh, they went to get some lunch at some place down the road,” he replied.

“And what about you? Aren’t you hungry? You need to eat, Harry.”

“I know. I will, I will. I’m just trying to finish this song, is all.”

You nodded slightly, sitting down in front of him on the coffee table. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were resting on top of dark bags. “Let me see,” you said, extending your hand.

Slowly, he placed the notebook into your hands. You stared down at the scribbled lyrics. Things were crossed out; things were circled; things were accompanied by little doodles. On the very top of the page, though, was the rushed title (above a few others, which had been crossed out): ADORE YOU. “I’m just gonna put it aside and come back to it,” he sighed. “Wanna get high? It always helps me write music.”

“No, Harry. I don’t want to get high with you. If you leave it, then you’ll never come back to it and nobody will ever get to hear it,” you replied.

“Except you. I want you to hear it,” he said quietly, so quiet, in fact, that you barely heard it.

He wasn’t looking at you, thankfully. At least he wouldn’t see the mix of nerves and excitement at what he’d just muttered. You shifted slightly, placing the notebook down beside you, “Well, then you’ll have to finish it, won’t you?”

Finally, he looked up at you. You felt tiny as his eyes explored your face, drinking in every last inch of your features. A small smile worked its way up onto his face, “I suppose I will.”

So, Harry began projecting his ideas onto you. He explained what the song was about and the kind of things he wanted to write. He sang the chorus to you, and you swore you melted right there and then. Hearing his voice fill the otherwise silent room you were in, with no other intent than to please you, filled your head with all sorts of fantasies. “It’s good, Harry. It’s really good,” you nodded, smiling sweetly at him.

“Obviously not good enough if I can’t think of anything other than the first verse and the chorus,” he groaned, raking his long fingers through his unruly hair.

In a moment of fleeting confidence, you reached out and squeezed Harry’s hand. He looked up at you, his green lagoons of eyes staring directly into your own. “Harry, stop. You’re doing yourself no good thinking like that. No songs start out as the greatest thing ever written; you have to put time and care and effort into them,” you said gently. “Let me help, Harry. I don’t want you to go through this alone.”

He nodded, squeezing your hand in return. He pulled out a pen and stared expectantly at you. You smiled - you were happy he was willing to let you help. “What did you have in mind?” he asked, eager to hear a new outlook on these lyrics he had grown sick of reading over and over again.

“Well,” you began, “it obviously has a sort of ethereal vibe to it. So, summer skies? Like, maybe something about ‘you under summer skies’?”

He nodded slowly, absorbing your suggestion. Until, suddenly, his eyes lit up. You knew the look. You’d seen it many a time before. It was the look he adopted whenever he’d been struck by the perfect slice of inspiration he needed to write an incredible piece of music. “You, Y/N, are a bloody genius! ‘Your wonder under summer skies’,” he grinned.

He scribbled the lyric down desperately. You couldn’t help but admire him as ideas escaped his brain and fell onto the paper before him. He finally looked back up at you, the page now littered with prompts and snippets of lyrics. “Thanks, Y/N. You’re a lifesaver,” he said.

You chuckled, “I didn’t do anything.”

“Well, you didn’t do anything for my other songs but they exist because of you,” he rushed out, clearly not comprehending his words. “Shit. Sorry, that- that didn’t mean to come out.”

You smirked. You had the power now, after four and a half years of falling in love with Harry Styles and making a massive fool of yourself in front of him. He’d slipped up and now you were in control. “Yeah? What songs did I unknowingly contribute to?” your confidence was rare, especially when it came to things like this, and yet here it was.

Unfortunately for you, Harry’s natural confidence matched your own. A playful grin swept up his features as he said, “Wouldn’t it be more fun for you to listen to the album and figure it out for yourself?”

“Or you could just tell me the titles?” you asked, your tone hopeful.

He hesitated for a moment, his confident smirk faltering for a split second. But, before you had time to say anything else, he said, “There’s this song called Sunflower, Vol. 6. I wrote that because your favourite flowers are sunflowers. And I wrote Cherry because I know you love cherries. And then there’s Golden, because that’s what you are, Y/N. And then there’s Watermelon Sugar because I know that In Watermelon Sugar is your favourite book. And now Adore You, because, I swear to God, Y/N, that’s all I want to do.”

He was rambling and you couldn’t help but smile. Whilst you’d spent your days rambling to your friends about how you were convinced you’d remain single forever if he didn’t happen to fall hopelessly in love with you, it appeared that he’d been writing down all the tiny details about you in his songs. Because it was true: sunflowers were your favourite flowers and cherries were your favourite fruit and In Watermelon Sugar was your favourite book.

He was staring at you now, his eyes searching your face for some sort of a hint on how you were feeling. When you said nothing, your lips parted slightly, he went on, “Hell, I wrote Cherry years ago. I wrote it when you were dating that guy... what was his name?”

“Ollie,” you replied quietly.

He knew what his name was. He never forgot. It had been two years but he’d never forgotten the eight months of hell where he had to watch you cuddle up to him and take him home after your group of friends had gone out for drinks. He didn’t know why he wanted to hear you say his name again. Some sadistic form of self-torture maybe, hearing another boy’s name on your lips. “Yeah, Ollie,” he played it off as if he really had forgotten your ex boyfriend’s name. “I wrote it when you were dating him. And I’ve been sitting on it for two years because I thought if I released it then you would know I’ve been in love with you for four years. But then I just thought ‘you know what, fuck it’, so I’m putting it on the album. And Anna, that was about you. But I’ll never officially release that one. Because I wrote it one night when I was alone and I couldn’t get you out of my head and I needed to tell somebody how I felt about you. Even if that was just a bit of paper. But then I played it to you, do you remember? And you loved it, so I swore to never release it because it felt like I’d confessed to you how I felt.”

As you listened to him ramble away about all of these songs he’d written about you and how much you clearly meant to him, you couldn’t help but smile. You’d dreamed of Harry confessing how much he, well, adored you. And you’d only ever thought it would be an occurrence in your fantastical dreams, and yet here he was, staring back at you, rambling on about how much he loved you. “Wait, Harry,” you spoke up, “isn’t ‘watermelon sugar’ something to do with oral sex?”

You chuckled as he flushed, “That’s besides the point.”

“And what is the point?”

“That I’m in love with you and, I pray to God, you’re in love with me back.”

Overwhelmed with joy, you couldn’t help but throw yourself at Harry. The feeling of his hands around your waist in a way that wasn’t just a slightly prolonged hug goodbye after a night out or a slightly overly flirtatious gesture of Harry’s felt electric. Harry’s hands on you in a way that was meant to be a moment of appreciation shared between two lovers was how it was always supposed to be.

After so long of knowing one another, falling for each other and sharing life changing moments, everything was finally slipping into place. You’d been there when One Direction first began their hiatus. You’d been there when he cut his hair off. You’d been there when he went to Jamaica to write his first solo album. You’d been there, albeit your eyes were shut most of the time, when he was dangling a thousand feet in the air for the Sign of the Times music video shoot. He’d been there when you finished university. He’d been there when you lost your mum. He’d been there when your sister had her first child. He’d been your date to your brother’s wedding. All of these things, and you couldn’t help but feel they mounted to this very moment.

You pulled your head back, admiring his face for a moment. Your arms were around his neck and everything just felt... right. His smile was bright and his eyes were full of nothing but loving joy. Without another moment’s hesitation, your lips were on his. You weren’t sure who leaned forward, but all you knew was that this was what you’d been waiting for for almost five years. And, now you were here, showing Harry how much you loved him, the wait seemed worth it. “We’ve got so much time to make up for,” he whispered.

“Good thing we’ve got all the time in the world then, isn’t it?”

He grinned, embracing your body. All he’d wanted to do for four years was to praise it. And now he finally had the chance to. That was until the two of you heard a voice behind you, “We only left for lunch!”

[amaranthinedream]

do you have any other unpublished fics or wips? i'm curious as i'm also a writer but i have all these fics that i never post LOL what do you do with them when you're done!

I actually have a few WIPs! Its definitely a writer thing, I think we just can’t turn our brains off and it keeps imagining new ideas for how these two blorbos can fall in love and then you have to sit down with it and be like ‘we don’t have time for this, you’re already dedicated to [insert published wip fic here]’ and your brain just laughs and comes up with another coffee shop AU because it’s a bitch like that

That said, I’ve been meaning to make a list of my other fics I’ve been slowly working on (OEL takes up a lot of brainspace and time for me), so here’s my 3 most developed ideas (as in, I’ve actually written scenes/a good chunk of the fic)

1. [nameless fic 1]: I’m calling it the Uni AU in my docs, but it’s a modern day AU bdk friends-with-benefits break-up/make-up fic and it’s my favourite of the wips I’m working on. it’s very angsty. VERY angsty. I mean, I hoping to also make it quite lighthearted... until it isn’t.

Basically, bkdk are friends of friends. Katsuki’s a bit of a fuckboy, whereas Izuku is hung-up on someone. they have a one-off fling, which then continues into fwb, which low-key turns into dating just neither one of them want to admit it. Fed up of wondering if Katsuki is seeing other people, Izuku asks Katsuki to go steady and Katsuki says no. Heartbroken, Izuku breaks off their relationship and Katsuki spirals...

anyway, I really wanna talk about this one so have a snippet

“Deku, I don’t want to lose you.”

“You haven’t lost me. We agreed to stay friends,” Izuku reminds him. His eyes tell a different story though, sad and downcast. He doesn’t even believe his own words.

“That’s bullshit,” Katsuki says, and it’s only half on purpose. Izuku’s head snaps up to look at him and Katsuki makes the snap decision of committing to his word vomit. “That’s such bullshit. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Don’t give me that crap.”

“What do you want me to say? I was heartbroken!” Izuku says with such force that Katsuki feels momentarily blown away. “I-” his strength leaves him, and Izuku’s chin ducks back towards his chest. “I am heartbroken, Kacchan. Present tense. And it - it hurts to see you.”

Katsuki doesn’t know what to say.

‘How long do you think it’ll take until that’s no longer the case?‘ Is insensitive at best, downright selfish at worst. ‘Your absence is upsetting me. Stop it. Come back.’

Selfish. Always so fucking selfish. He’s never really learnt how to stop, has he?

“We will still be friends?” Katsuki asks. “After … after it stops hurting so much?” There’s something obstructing his airways, and he swallows it down. His vision wavers. “We’ll still be friends.” He says it less like a question and more like a statement, like by saying it he can make it be true.

Deku isn’t looking at him; he’s staring out the window out on the parking lot, seemingly entranced by someone doing a shit job of parallel parking. Internally, Katsuki screams at him to just look at me. He’s right here, why isn’t Izuku looking at him?

Izuku doesn’t reply.

2. Well-Intended Love AU: this is inspired by a cDrama of the same name and plot, which I would diverge from after the initial set up.

Katsuki is a ridiculously rich and powerful CEO, while Izuku is a graduating student who has just found out he has leukaemia. To survive, Izuku needs a spinal fluid transplant, and he has one match in the system; however, that person has refused to be a donor to anyone (guess who it is). Izuku sneaks a look at his donors details while the doctor isn’t looking and basically bugs Katsuki until he gives in to be his donor in exchange for Izuku marrying him for 2 years to get his mother off his back. queue classic fake-relationship turns to real relationship montage (with sugar baby vibes). only, a few months later, Izuku starts feeling the same symptoms he had when he was diagnosed. He goes to his doctor who can find no record of his surgery on file, so Izuku starts looking around the house for his medical record. Opens the safe that Katsuki has never let him near and inside finds an initial blood report from when he first got hospitalised, which basically says he just had bad anaemia. In the same file are bunches of photos of him that he knows are from before he and Katsuki met, taken from a distance. it turns out Katsuki owns the hospital he was diagnosed at, and faked Izuku’s illness (it’s semi-yandere/obsessed Katsuki yall)

And this leads into wip 3, which I’m considering combining with number 2

3. Things Better Left Unsaid: A mostly written E-rated oneshot (it’s filthy). Following sugar baby omega Izuku and CEO alpha Katsuki (I am a woman of simple tastes okay?). I ... cannot say much about this one without the hand of god (tumblr moderators) coming down on me, killing me instantly, so I’m just going to put down a snippet to set the mood

“I’m taking you to the company dinner in two weeks time. You’ll need a new dress, at least.” Katsuki finally says, impatient. “Don’t argue with me on this.”

He’s sitting like a king on the sofa in the main boudoir of the fitting rooms. All black suit and dangerous elegance. One leg up with his calf on his other knee, and arm spreading across the back of the couch, taking up space in the dominating way he likes to do.

Izuku is standing on a pedestal set before the mirrors, but he still feels very small under Katsuki’s eyes. The room matches those eyes, red red red. Warm but ample lighting makes the room feel intimate and expensive. Katsuki’s eyes make Izuku feel even more so.

Izuku nods, and he takes on the dress the attendant hands to him. The last thing he sees before the dressing room door closes is Katsuki languidly watching him from the sofa as a bowing beta offers him refreshments. The girls shirt slips down her shoulder, seemingly on accident if her eyes hadn’t been so carefully watching for Katsuki’s reaction.

It doesn’t matter though. Katsuki had never looked away from Izuku; he didn’t see her.

Smirking, Izuku closes the curtain to the dressing room, tries on the dress, and gapes.

There’s no way this is right.

This is way too revealing for such a formal event. Katsuki doesn’t normally dress him like this.

He goes out, intending to make Katsuki get him the proper dress, but is stunned into silence by the way Katsuki’s entire body language turns predatory upon seeing him.

“Perfect. On the pedestal,” he orders, eyes dark. He takes a sip out of a crystal tumbler of whiskey, never looking away, before placing the glass down.

Legs feeling like jelly, he takes careful steps up onto the platform. Katsuki clicks for a male attendant, who comes running. The previous girl is nowhere to be seen. “The shoes.”

The attendant comes back with the shoes, and kneels at Izuku’s feet to help him into them. They’re high, and Izuku wobbles on one as he slips into the second one. The beta below him looking up at him, cheeks pink, as he holds out a hand for Izuku to hold as he catches his balance.

Thankful, Izuku takes it, ignoring Katsuki's warning growl as they work together to get him secure on both feet.

Izuku can feel Katsuki’s angry eyes burning a hole right through his back. Burning hotter when the attendant doesn’t leave once the shoes on, staying to work the clasps around Izuku’s ankle. He lingers a little longer than necessary, fingers whispering around the small clasp.

Katsuki snarls, threatening, and the attendant springs away from Izuku.

"I- I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean- I'll excuse myself."

"Wait," Katsuki says before the attendant can leave, black-smoke voice smooth. Izuku suddenly feels too warm, fever hot and rubbing his thighs together, feeling so empty.

Katsuki sounds dangerous, and Izuku knows what that means.

Flushed and embarrassed, the attendant ducks his head as he turns to wait for his instructions from Katsuki.

“Go and get the diamond decagon necklace and the matching earrings from the vaults,” Katsuki orders, a growl still in his voice. “Quickly.”

The attendant all but runs from the room. Izuku doesn’t notice, too busy staring down Katsuki in the mirrors.

“Deku, come here.”

I hope that answers your ask! tbh, I have a lot of little ideas that I write down but they don’t often develop into anything structured. there’s a few docs in my folder that could potentially be published as little drabbles... but idk, I write them and then I forget about them because they don’t feel finished but I’m also not that keen on working on them more. what about you?

[chasingfictions]

👁️👄👁️

ok at the spuffy chaos wedding the following things happen:

- FredLyria is running AMOK basically. Fred is there at first, and she and willow are like, Really Vibing and Tara is being Jealous Tara and THEN Fred is Illyria suddenly and Xander and anya are both like, oh?? Am I??? turned on rn??

- Giles and Lorne REALLY hit it off and everyone’s like? Oh? Are they about to fuck. Lorne is just FLIRTING UP A STORM he is being very “hey there zaddy” to Giles you know and ALSO reading everyone who is singing along to the music and causing chaos and giles is like, ah I know what you are I won’t sing in front of you. BUT THEN giles gets DRUNK and sings and then he and Lorne make eye contact and it’s like, OH IT’S ON

- Anya and Xander have broken up and gotten back together so many times that no one can keep track and are now doing some sort of grand sweeping open relationship deal that seems to be working great for them and probably involves a lot of threesomes with Xander’s old construction buddies. the point is they fuck someone at this wedding but i dont know who.. possibly illyria. possibly gunn?

- Connor is also there bc angel’s an old man who’s like, you’re family! You have to come to the wedding! And Connor’s like! Ive barely met them! And angel’s like, suck it up. And cordy, to Connor was like “he just wants more people there so he feels less weird”

send me an emoji and I’ll reply with an unhinged out of content snippet that roughly matches from my buffy fic ideas iPhone note :)

[jesbelle-writes]

The Gift

After his failed attempt to reach kohlinar,  Spock found that the rhythms of life aboard the Enterprise were somehow different.  He had reached a hard-won détente between his Human emotions and his Vulcan logic, and it cast a new light on even the most familiar of rituals – such as the one now playing out in Kirk’s quarters.

“So Bones – your birthday’s coming up...”  Kirk opened this conversation just as he had every year about this time.

“I don’t want a big fuss,” said McCoy, with the same frown as usual.

“How about a little fuss then?” asked Kirk, the customary amused smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“I suppose I could tolerate it, if I had to,” came the reply.

And so some small celebration would be agreed upon.  A place and time would be chosen for a quiet round of drinks; Scotty, Chapel, Uhura, Sulu, and (now that was no longer “the kid”) Chekov would be invited; and they’d all spend a quiet evening getting mildly inebriated and swapping reminiscences.  Spock would attend, of course.  McCoy was his friend, after all.

But this year, Spock couldn’t shake the feeling that something special was in order – something to acknowlege the shift he sensed in his relationship with McCoy.  He couldn’t really name the nature of that shift – it was different somehow to the way his other relationships had changed – but he felt a need to take some kind of action nonetheless.

He wanted to give McCoy a birthday present.

His mother had explained gift-giving to him when he was a child.  She had provided him with an exhaustive lesson on the rituals and obligations involved, including a list of the types of gifts that would be considered appropriate to each occasion.

“But sometimes,” she said, “a person wants to give a gift from the heart – something that shows how much regard they have for another person. The best gifts on these occasions are something the recipient can experience.  A happy memory is worth a thousand objects.”

Spock understood that these “little fusses” that Jim put together were exactly that – another in a collection of happy memories for McCoy.  Spock wanted to give McCoy something like that.

The bulk of his meditation time was dedicated to solving the puzzle of how to do that.

He considered the activities that McCoy engaged in during his rare breaks from work. He spent the bulk of his time simply “hanging out” with Spock or Jim or Christine.  He enjoyed reading a genre of books he called “dimestore trash” that Spock had no idea how to even begin to obtain.  And he enjoyed music.

Music seemed promising.  McCoy’s tastes were eclectic, but Spock had a good ear and he was reasonably certain that he could find something that would please McCoy.

It was in this frame of mind that he noticed the humming.

There was a little snippet of a tune that McCoy hummed when he was trying to unravel any particularly thorny problem.  Spock had heard it hundreds of times when sharing laboratory space with McCoy.  It had long ago been relegated to the background noises of the lab.

It was a pretty tune, and obviously a favorite.  He asked Dr. Chapel about it that afternoon.

“You mean the one that goes hum de dum dum dum hum de dum dum dum?”  She mangled it completely, but it was still recognizable as the same tune, if only barely.

“Yes,” said Spock.  “Do you know the title of the piece?”

“Sorry, no.  I asked him about it once.  He got really self-conscious and said it was just something his mother used to sing.  Then I didn’t hear it for about a month.”

Jim was no help.  “I don’t spend much time in the lab,” he pointed out.  “And his mom was some kind of music historian, so she probably knew a lot of obscure songs.”

Spock made a recording of himself playing the tune on his lyre and fed it into the ship’s computer, but it matched nothing in the database.  Finally, he sent the recording to the library at Memory Alpha and waited.

The answer came almost fourteen hours later – a song from the mid-twentieth century, lost for nearly 200 years before it was discovered in an archive on the North American continent at a place called Muscle Shoals.

The tune was sweet, and the song was short.  But the lyrics...

If Spock had searched for years, he couldn’t have found a song more suitable. He decided that the piece should be performed live.

“It’s beautiful, Spock.  Where did you find it?” asked Uhura.  “It’s just so… Dr. McCoy, isn’t it?”

“I believe it is a favorite of his,” said Spock.  “I would like to play it at his birthday.  I was hoping that you would agree to sing it.”

“I’d love to, but I think you should do it.  It would fit your range.”

“My musical range, perhaps.  It is a very emotional piece,” said Spock.

They practiced the song every night.

McCoy’s birthday was in the forward observation lounge.  It was busy tonight, and when Spock picked up his lyre and Uhura stood next to him a hush fell over the crowd.  

“If I needed you Would you come to me, Would you come to me, And ease my pain?” sang Uhura.

“If you needed me, I would come to you, I’d swim the seas For to ease your pain.”

“In the night forlorn The morning’s born And the morning shines With the lights of love.”

Spock spared a glance toward McCoy, but Jim was seated between them, blocking his line of sight.

“You will miss sunrise If you close your eyes And that would break My heart in two.”

Spock tried twice more to catch a glimpse of McCoy to no avail.  It wasn’t until the final chorus that he saw him.  

McCoy looked stunned, overcome, but with what emotion, Spock couldn’t tell. There were, however, most definitely tears in his eyes.

The song ended to enthusiastic applause and several people came to pay their compliments – mostly to Uhura.  McCoy was among them.  He took Uhura’s hand in his and said, “Thank you so much, Nyota.  That was lovely.”  He nodded toward Spock.  “You played that… very well – as usual, Spock.”  He raised his glass toward the others. “I want to thank y’all for coming tonight.  I know the night’s still young, but I’m not so much, and I’ve just had a week and a half of long shifts.  So if y’all’ll excuse me, I’m going to head on out and get some shut-eye before I have to deal with the next torn rotator cuff or targ bite or what-have-you.”

There followed the usual well-wishing and congratulations as McCoy left.  Spock, feeling unsettled and having no desire to feel unsettled in public, picked up his lyre and retired to his own quarters…

… where he was surprised to find Dr. McCoy leaning against his desk.

“I used my medical code,” said McCoy.  “I hope you don’t mind.  I promise I’m not planning to make a habit of it.”

Spock nodded. “I apolo--”

“I’m sor--” McCoy shook his head.  “You got nothing to be sorry for.  Just… let me say my piece and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Go ahead.”

“Thanks.”  McCoy took a deep breath.  “I… what you did tonight, Spock – that was the nicest, most thoughtful gift I’ve ever gotten.  I couldn’t say this with a bunch of people around, but I need you to know what it meant to me.

“My mama used to sing me that song when I’d have bad dreams.  She’d come sit on my bed and… stroke my hair… and sing that song.  And it worked every time.

“She sang a lot of songs.  She had a beautiful voice and she played guitar.  She made a lot of recordings of those songs, and after she died, I’d play them all and pretend she was still there – just in the other room, singing.  Well, I was just kid...  

“Anyway she never got around to recording that one.  So I’d sing it to myself when the bad dreams woke me up.  I forgot most of the lyrics.  I forgot what it sounded like when she sang it.  I forgot what her fingers felt like in my hair.  But it always made me feel better.

“I guess I got used to singing it.  It was the tune I’d whistle in the dark, and it became the thing I turned to whenever the going got even a little rough.

“That’s what you gave me tonight.  You gave me back her song.  I don’t have words for that.”  McCoy swiped at the tear that had fallen onto his cheek.  “If you weren’t a Vulcan I’d hug you.”

Spock didn’t know what to say.  He was experiencing a rush of emotions too powerful and too complex for him to even name, let alone express, not that he wished to express them.  He didn’t even want to experience them.

Did he?

“And on that note,” said McCoy, standing up,  “I’ll just see myself out.”

“Leonard.”

McCoy had nearly reached the door when Spock put out his hand to stop him.  He took him by the wrist, his fingers curling around the warm, soft skin above McCoy’s pulse.

The sensation cut through some of the turmoil in Spock’s mind.  This was… good?  It was… fitting.

It was right because Spock had wanted to touch McCoy, hadn’t he?  He’d wanted to give a gift that would touch McCoy’s heart.

And now he was touching his skin and that was also what he’d wanted, wasn’t it?

He pulled McCoy closer, put his arms around him, held him.  And holding was also what he’d wanted.

And then McCoy’s arms wrapped around his waist…

...and there.  This is what it is to fit, thought Spock.  This is what it is to be exactly where he belonged.

McCoy drew back a little, enough to look Spock in the eye.  “You sure?”

Spock nodded.  “I am now.”

And then he kissed him.

Just a little note -- the song is “If I Needed You” by Townes Van Zandt.  I’ve used it in fics before because it gives me serious Bones vibes.  I actually had this scene in mind for one of those fics, but ended up using something else, so now you get it here.

[moiraineswife]

Jasnah Meta - The Importance of Context

AKA: PLEASE stop saying that Jasnah is pro-genocide when she is. Not. At all. In any way. Shape or form. Whatsoever. 

TL;DR: Nowhere, at any point, in four ginormous books of text, does Jasnah ever say ‘you know what’s great? Genocide.’ She never even implies. It she never even actually, seriously, suggests it. Please stop saying she does as though it’s canon I lose 12 years of my life every time it’s mentioned. 

AND NOW FOR THE LONG VERSION BECAUSE Y’ALL KNOW I CAN’T LEAVE IT AT THAT!!!!! 

PLEASE NOTE! THERE WILL BE SOME MINOR RHYTHM OF WAR SPOILERS IN HERE. PLEASE AVERT YOUR EYEBALLS IF THIS IS A DISTRESSING CONCEPT TO YOU.

So first things first, let us discuss The Scene Itself: 

“Yes. The answer is obvious. We need to find the Heralds.”

Kaladin nodded in agreement.

“Then,” Jasnah added, “we need to kill them.”

“What?” Kaladin demanded. “Woman, are you insane?”

“The Stormfather laid it out,” Jasnah said, unperturbed. “The Heralds made a pact. When they died, their souls traveled to Damnation and trapped the spirits of the Voidbringers, preventing them from returning.”

“Yeah. Then the Heralds were tortured until they broke.”

“The Stormfather said their pact was weakened, but did not say it was destroyed,” Jasnah said. “I suggest that we at least see if one of them is willing to return to Damnation. Perhaps they can still prevent the spirits of the enemy from being reborn. It’s either that, or we completely exterminate the parshmen so that the enemy has no hosts.” She met Kaladin’s eyes. “In the face of such an atrocity, I would consider the sacrifice of one or more Heralds to be a small price.”

“Storms!” Kaladin said, standing up straight. “Have you no sympathy?”

“I have plenty, bridgeman. Fortunately, I temper it with logic. Perhaps you should consider acquiring some at a future date.”

So the only time Jasnah actually brings up this concept it’s to, hyperbolically, point out that asking the Heralds to return to Braize and trap the Fused may not be the worst idea.

She’s not actually suggesting this as a valid or legitimate tactic. It’s to contrast the plan Kaladin just called her ‘insane’ for suggesting (I bet that’s gonna hurt a million times more than it already does in 900 years when we get Jasnah’s book and backstory but hey. Back on topic) and point out that, in the face of the apocalypse, this is the kind of level they have to think on. 

I’ve already talked about the nuances of this scene at length here, so I’ll just do a quick summary: Jasnah is not as composed about any of this internally as she makes out to be - even what she suggests with the Heralds. 

When we see her alone with Ivory, reading Taln’s repeated mantra, Ivory notes that she’s troubled. The words (and where he was/how he was being treated when they were recorded) is enough to trigger a twenty year old flashback in her. 

This scene is one of the clearest moments (along with the Kharbranth thug scene, I suspect) where Jasnah’s outward projection of her internal feelings and thoughts least matches up with reality.

In spite of the inflammatory remark that sparks this all off,  she doesn’t want to assassinate any Heralds. She quite clearly says she wants to “see if one of them is WILLING to return to Damnation.” She wants to have a conversation with them, understand the Oathpact, and see if any of them would consent to buying them some time. She is not suggesting they knife one of the Heralds in a back alley. That’s Moash’s job.

This is supported by what she does in canon. Jasnah is actually the one who recognises Taln and Ash and, somehow, manages to persuade them to join her at Urithiru and help. She treats them with nothing but dignity and respect in her scenes with them in Rhythm of War, and tries to find out more about the Oathpact and their options - as she said she wanted to do.

But since Jasnah is a Kholin, which means the ‘D’ in her DNA stands for DRAMA, she doesn’t say that, instead she says: “let us find the Heralds and kill them.” (I love her so much y’all. Ahem. Anyway).

But there’s method to this madness, too. Please click the ‘keep reading’ button to discover why! (have to turn my own posts into clickbait bc they’re so long I have to put in a cut to spare ur dashboards). 

Jasnah likes to push people. She likes to force them to think, and consider all angles of a problem, and come to terms with their own thoughts and opinions. This is one of the things that frustrates Shallan about Jasnah in TWOK: 

Shallan caught a victorious glimmer in her eye. She wasn’t necessarily advocating ideas because she believed them; she just wanted to push Shallan. It was infuriating. How was Shallan to know what Jasnah really thought if she adopted conflicting points of view like this?

-TWOK 36

Jasnah doesn’t want to brutally murder the Heralds and force them to return to their maddening idea of hell. But in phrasing it as she does, she can get an insight into Kaladin. Despite the fact we know him very well at this point, this is, this is the first time Jasnah has interacted with him on-screen, and only the second time she’s met him ever. 

“That Windrunner. What do you think of him, Shallan? I find him much as I imagined his order, but I have only met him once. It has all come so quickly. After years of struggling in the shadows, everything coming to light—and despite my years of study—I understand so very little.”

Oathbringer, 33

Jasnah in that scene is deliberately being as exaggerated, ruthless, cold, and harsh as she can get away with. She’s trying to push Kaladin. She wants to bait responses from him, to get an idea of what kind of man he is, and what he stands for. She focuses entirely on him on that scene, and the reactions we as readers get see that as well. 

“If you wish, Captain,” Jasnah snapped, “I can get you some mink kits to cuddle while the adults plan. None of us want to talk about this, but that does not make it any less inevitable.”

“I’d love that,” Kaladin responded. “In turn, I’ll get you some eels to cuddle. You’ll feel right at home.”

Jasnah, curiously, smiled.

 Jasnah likes to be pushed as well. She likes to have people push back with her, and stand up for themselves, assert themselves, make their arguments. She all but encourages Dalinar to publicly do so in RoW. 

Socially, in spite of Kaladin’s rank or status as a Windrunner, it’s probably 100% Not Acceptable to ask an Alethi princess if she wants a basket full of eels to cuddle because she is one, effectively. But Jasnah’s unphased - and even pleased - by Kal’s response. She likes that she’s seeing this from him, that he’s unguarded, and passionate, and more than willing to go toe-to-toe with her, which few people are.

Also, because I foresee potential problems in this meta that I would like to nip in the bud right now, I don’t think that Jasnah is doing this to play with people? That’s not really in her nature or who she is. There’s a purpose to everything she does, and there’s a purpose to her doing this, too.

With Shallan it was to encourage her to think for herself and form her own thoughts and opinions. Just before in that scene, Shallan asked why Jasnah couldn’t just tell her what to think and what was the right philosophy to have in life. Jasnah replied it was something she had to discover for herself - and that’s how she approaches all of their studies. 

Jasnah never teaches Shallan what to think, or even what happened, despite that being the meat of her study. Instead, she teaches Shallan how to think, how to study, how to learn, how to critically reason, and how to form and argue her own thoughts and conclusions. 

With Kal, I think it’s a quick and brutal way of quickly getting to grips with a new, very important, element in what’s going on in her world. Remember, too, that one of Jasnah’s most obvious aims, aside from protecting the world, is protecting her family. And Kaladin is very close to everyone that she loves and holds most dear, while she knows nothing about him. 

However, something else that’s important to note, which, for me anyway, RoW all but confirmed: Jasnah has low cognitive empathy.

She’d come to realize, early in her youth, that she didn’t approach relationships the same way everyone else seemed to. Her partners in the past had always complained that she was too cold, so academic. That had frustrated her. How was she to learn what others felt if she couldn’t ask them?

Chapter 99 really was an absolute fucking gift, I mean really. Asexuality AND low empathy, all in one go. What a delight.

This little snippet can be read as her being asexual, potentially, but I actually think it reads more heavily and obviously about her being neurodivergent? And specially low cognitive empathy. Brandon says that, to him, Jasnah is not autistic spectrum, but you just keep giving me more evidence to say she is buddy!! Anyway. Diagnostic debates aside. 

I would guess some of y’all don’t know what the heck I mean by ‘cognitive empathy’ (I didn’t before I researched all of this a couple of years ago). 

There are two types of empathy, in strict psychology terms (and then there’s the colloquial way we use it to just mean ‘a good person with feelings’ which drives me BANANAS but that’s a rant for another day): 

Affective empathy - which basically means ‘this person around me is happy/sad/excited, I am also now feeling that way. Because emotion is infectious like a cold! How thrilling’. 

Cognitive empathy - is the ability a person has to pick up on/know what others are feeling without having to be told. Using tone/body language/facial expression etc etc. It’s something I, and a lot of other autistic people, are bad at. 

So is Jasnah! 

Her previous partners disliked her probably verbally vibe checking them every other week to find out where they were at. Jasnah was frustrated because how the heck else is she meant to know wtf?? What an absolute mood this woman is. Anyway. 

This revelation/confirmation makes a LOT of Jasnah scenes make a lot more sense. Including: chapter 64, and her insistence, to the point of it almost being illogical, that she fight without her Surgebinding to try and get as clear a picutre of what her soldiers are facing as she can. Jasnah starts off that chapter by saying she’s never actually been in a war before, and states throughout that she wasn’t prepared for what it was actually like. 

Her low empathy means that, without a personal context/experience to relate to and draw emotional experience from, she struggles to understand exactly what her troops are going through. 

Obviously she knows that ‘war is bad, battles are scary and not fun’. But she has no way of emotionally relating/truly understanding what they’re feeling. This is one of the reasons I think it’s so important to her, despite Ivory’s chiding, to do it that way so that she can understand. 

Similar thing is happening here with Kaladin. Jasnah struggles to instinctively Get Vibes from people, so she goes about things in a very scholarly way. 

She does research and makes notes (see: her little folio on the highprinces (which, by the way, misses out on several important aspects of them Shallan picks up on pretty quickly by the power of Intuition), she asks questions - and she sets up scenarios that push people into blatant emotion so she can observe and get an idea of what makes them tick. 

TL;DR TAKE TWO: Jasnah does not want to murder all of the Singers. Jasnah never says she wants to. Jasnah only uses it as a ‘see, asking the Heralds to go back to Damnation isn’t actually that bad now is it?’ hyperbolic counterpoint after Kaladin asked her if she was insane. Jasnah is not actually what she pretends to be in that scene. She is but a hapless gay who cannot detect emotions so she has to conduct her Vibe Checks differently from other people. She is highly valid in every way and i stan her.

[justmeandmyinnermostthoughts]

Accidental Familiar Part 2: Halloween Night

Hello Chickadees! Finally have my desktop set up (took 4 days, I’m not good with technology)! And I’m pretty sure it’s been a year since I posted the first chapter of this. But here is chapter 2! I’ve linked chapter 1 above the gif. Hope you enjoy it! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list. I intend to design some of the NPCs and Y/N Blackwater’s house in Sims 4 at some point. 

Requests are open (gif not mine)

Warnings: cursing, a bit of violence, John not following directions

Summery: John can’t help but wander into the woods on Halloween night despite the warning given to him by the mysterious Y/N Blackwater. His curiosity gets him wrapped up in a new world. Guess the wolves are out of the bag now.

Part 1: Fog

John does his best to keep his mind off that night. He cleans the house, binds books, reads books, plays with the dog, anything to keep his mind off the oddness and supernatural vibe he can’t seem to shake. His mind keeps wandering back though. It’s like an itch he can’t scratch. He finds himself sitting on the couch Halloween night facing the window. He’s reading a book and definitely not watching the tree line, no of course not. 

The sun begins to set and a fog seems to seep out of the trees. John finds his eyes drawn to the trees. He watches, falling into a sort of trance as he stares at the swirling fog. He notices a shifting in the fog, as if there were things moving in the trees just out of sight. He glimpses shadowy figures in the fog as they move in and out of the trees, heading deeper into the woods. 

As John watches the treeline he notices a yellow light weaving in and out of the trees. He realizes it’s the lantern that Y/N was carrying. Which means it’s most likely her heading deeper into the woods. 

John checks his watch. Thirty minutes until midnight. He turns his attention back to the treeline. The lantern light is gone. He sits for a while, debating with himself for what feels like hours. He checks his watch again, it's been three minutes. His eyes return to the treeline. He begins to drum his fingers on the arm of his chair and rubs at the stubble on his chin. Dog raises his head to look at John but settles back down, his eyes still on his master. John lets out a breath and pushes himself up from his chair. He grabs a flashlight from a kitchen drawer and hesitates. He grabs a knife instead of a gun, he’s already jumpy, he doesn’t want to accidentally shoot someone. He pats Dog on the head and murmurs a “Good boy” before heading out the back door, closing it behind him. 

This is a bad idea. He knows it's a bad idea, but for some reason he can’t stop his feet from carrying him deeper into the woods. He feels his ears and eyes playing tricks on him as he makes his way through the trees. Every small sound makes his heart race and every shadow makes his blood run cold. He keeps his knife held in a reverse grip, blade pressed against his arm, tip pointed back to his elbow, and flashlight low on his body mass, down towards his chest and stomach. 

The hair on the back of his neck is standing on end. He strains his ears to make out half heard sounds. He has a strange feeling he’s being watched as he makes his way through the trees, shining his flashlight around him. Rustling leaves, muted footsteps, and heavy breathing reaches his ears and John spins, tying to find the source. His heart is racing and it's a struggle to keep his breathing under control. John continues through the trees, struggling to keep his pace calm. His heart is in his throat as he continues, hearing the noises coming from both sides and behind him. It’s been a very long time since he’s felt this way. He’s being hunted, methodically, systematically hunted. The thought makes his blood run cold and his heart skips a beat. His breath catches in his throat as something begins to howl from behind him. The howls are taken up on either side of him and his pace quickens despite himself. Before he realizes it he’s running. He can hear the loud footsteps running around him, the howling continues. He can hear something picking up its pace as they run, intending to get in front of him to cut him off. John tries to pick up the pace but he is no match for the creatures. He can hear the creatures closing in. John comes to the skidding stop in a semi-clear area in the trees. He raises the knife and flashlight, falling into a defensive position. He can hear them pacing just outside his field of vision. The creatures growl and exhale loud huffing breaths as they circle him. The huffing breaths turn into chuckles and morph into voices, low and grumbling but voices. They come from all around him, multiple voices and several snippets of conversation standing out. 

“Look at him, he’s terrified. I can smell it.” 

“What should we do with him?” 

“He shouldn’t be here.” 

“Trespasser.” 

“What a frightened rabbit.” 

“Careful, he’s armed.” 

“Is he a hunter?” 

“No. Doesn’t smell right.” 

“Should report to the Alpha.” 

“No, we can handle it ourselves.” 

There follows some growling and shuffles before they settle down again. 

John swallows the lump in his throat. He’s as dangerous as these unseen people, and he’s armed. Breathe John. He tells himself. “Who are you?” His voice rings out loud and clear. He continues to scan the area, looking for something, anything in the dark trees. 

“Oh, it speaks!” A cruel voice responds. 

“Don’t be a dick, Tan.” A scolding one replies. 

“Just having fun. Can’t blame me for that.” The cruel voice speaks. 

“What should we do with him?” A third voice asks. 

“He’s trespassing. He shouldn’t be here.” A fourth voice speaks up, quiet and young. 

“We know.” Comes the chorused reply. 

“Let’s rough him up a bit. Teach him a lesson.” The cruel voice speaks up once more. 

“Tan…” Comes a warning. 

“We won’t hurt him. Just rough him up a bit.” The cruel voice brushes the warning aside. 

John doesn’t have time to react. A large furry figure charges him, blindsiding him and taking him to the ground. Loud snarling growls erupt from all around and more figures emerge. The flashlight is knocked from John’s hand and sent spinning along the ground. John is yanked around in multiple directions. He tries to fight back but is having a hard time of it. The creature is blindingly fast and pulling him this way and that causing disorientation. On instinct, John lashes out with the knife, feeling it sink deep into the creature. The creature roars in pain and throws itself out of John’s reach, taking the knife with it. The rest of the creatures step further back, expanding the circle of space they had created when the first one rushed John, and he is finally able to see what the creatures are. Some look like completely ordinary humans, but others, like the one standing in front of him inspecting the knife sticking out of its arm, do not. Large, with wolf-like features blended with its human genes, it stands on two legs and has thick, shaggy, grey fur that seems unkempt compared to the others around the circle. It looks at John, baring its large, aggressive looking teeth and growling at him, a wild anger in its eyes. 

John rolls over in an attempt to stand but the beast pounces, scratching him across the back and causing John to cry out in pain. The creature flips him over and hauls him up by his shirt. It bares its teeth and growls in John’s face. The reality of the situation hits home and John realizes just how out of his depth he is as he’s lifted off the ground by the creature. 

“Now I am going to kill you!” The words are snarled at him. Low and garbled, causing cold fear to shoot down his spine. 

Clawed hands appear, attempting to pull John and the creature away from each other. The other voices speaking up. 

“Stop this!” 

“Let him go!” 

“That’s enough Tan.” 

“The Alpha will not be pleased.” 

The others manage to get Tan to release John with difficulty, but before they can fully pull him away he lashes out, catching John across the face with his claws. John falls backwards, hands catching him and lowering him down carefully. 

“What’s going on here?” The new voice cuts through the commotion as the others manage to get Tan away from John. One of the creatures kneel over John, gently gripping his chin to turn his head so it can inspect the claw marks. The creature’s features change into an ordinary young man with curly hair. 

“Trespasser.” Tan snarls, pulling the knife from his arm and shaking off the ones holding him. 

“You need to learn self-control, Tanner. Not everyone who wanders into the trees is an enemy.” A familiar voice cuts through the quiet murmurs. 

John’s head feels light and his vision is swimming. The scratches throb painfully and he can feel the warm blood sliding down his face. He tries to move to see who is talking but movement is painful. 

The face above him swims in and out of focus as the young man places a hand on John’s shoulder. “Try not to move.” His voice is soft and concerned. 

Tan- Tanner- snarls at the owner of the familiar voice, hair raising and teeth bared. “He attacked me. And you have no authority over the pack, Witch. You have no say in what we do!” He spits the words at her, speaking her title like a curse. 

“Tanner! You will show Dame Blackwater respect! She is my trusted ally and you will treat her as such.” A dark skinned woman with dark curly hair held back from her face by a braided band steps into John’s field of view. She steps up to Tanner, head high and practically radiating authority. “We are in her territory. Her words might as well be mine and you will treat them as such. Is that understood?” Her tone low, dark, threatening. 

Tanner glares for a moment before looking away, his features changing to his human form. His arm shows no sign of the injury. “Yes, Alpha.” 

The Alpha continues to look at him for a few more moments before turning to someone else. “Where is the trespasser?” 

“He’s over here.” The young man kneeling over John speaks up. He had removed his shirt to press against John’s face in an effort to stop the bleeding. 

The pack parts as the Alpha approaches. As the people step out of the way John is able to see the other speaker. He focuses on her, the woman from before. Her name swims to the front of his mind. Y/N Blackwater. She’s dressed in odd clothes; a long dark, multi-layered skirt with a flowy dark shirt tucked into it, sleeves reaching her elbows. A leather belt with pouches wraps several times around her waist and a pendant with strange symbols rests against her chest. Once again she holds an extinguished lantern at her side. An extinguished lantern? So no light…. but something is lighting up the clearing… John’s mind is starting to wander from shock. His attention is drawn back to the woman as she starts towards him. His eyes are drawn to her right shoulder, to the strange bright red eyes of the reptilian creature that clings to her back. John can see gleaming black claws clutching at her shoulders and a dark armored tail sweeping back and forth behind her. 

Y/N steps up to John and kneels down by the Alpha. She takes the wadded up shirt from the young man, gently pulling it away from John’s face to examine the wounds. “What happened?” Y/N asks quietly. Tanner begins to speak up but she cuts him off. “I don’t want to hear it from you.” She said, tone cold and firm. She glances at the young man who was helping John, her tone growing softer. “I want to hear it from you. Jake isn’t it?” He nods. “Alright Jake. Tell me what happened. The truth please. All of it. I’ll know if you’re lying.” 

The young man glances at Tanner, then at the Alpha. She nods and he swallows. “We were guarding the area like you said. This man entered the area with a flashlight. He didn’t seem like he had a purpose, he was just looking around. We surrounded him. Tanner wanted to rough him up a bit, for fun-” Tanner growls at the young man, taking a step forward threateningly. The Alpha turns, snapping at Tanner. He looks away and she slowly turns back to Jake, gesturing for him to continue. He nods, starting again. “We tried to persuade him not to but he wouldn’t listen. So he started to rough him up, throwing the guy around, pushing him in different directions. And he,” Jake gestures to John, “had a knife on him and stabbed Tanner with it. Tanner got angry and attacked him. We managed to separate him from the human when you and Alpha Tabitha arrived.” The young man finishes with a glance at the Alpha. 

Y/N nods, checking on John’s wounds again. 

Alpha Tabitha turns to Dame Blackwater. “Who is he?” 

“He’s with me.” She answers, beginning to wrap John’s face in the shirt. “I’m sorry Tabitha, but we have to continue this later. I have to deal with this.” 

“I understand.” The Alpha says, rising to her feet. 

“I’ll be in touch.” Y/N says as she slowly helps John to his feet. The dark scaled creature jumps to the ground and stands beside Y/N, red eyes locked on John. 

“Talk soon then. I’ll deal with the pack.” Tabitha says, sending an angry look Tanner’s way. “May the stars guide you, Dame Blackwater.” Tabitha gives her a small smile, giving a traditional Witch farewell blessing. 

Y/N smiles back at Tabitha and gives the Werewolf’s tradition goodbye in return. “May the moon protect you and guide your way until we meet again, Alpha Tabitha.” With a nod she begins to lead John away, supporting him as they walk. Her lantern lights up and she holds it out to the scaled creature. “Lead the way Coal.” The creature snorts and takes the lantern handle between its teeth, leading the way through the trees and fog. A few feet into the trees the air becomes thick and eerily quiet. The only sounds are their footsteps and the faint creaks of the lantern as it swings on its handle. 

John tries to speak but the woman cuts him off. “Say nothing. Just focus on putting one foot in front of the other for now.” John remains silent for the remainder of the walk. 

The silence seems to stretch as they move through the trees, growing thicker with each step. As John watches where he’s placing his feet he realizes they have joined a small path through the trees. John looks up to see a wooden fence standing in front of them. The strange black creature steps up to the fence, crouches, and leaps up onto it, stretching out black batlike wings and flapping them a bit while it gains its balance on top of the fence. It turns its head to watch John, red eyes locking onto his. The gate swings inwards without prompting and John is led through the yard. He turns to look over his shoulder at the gate, watching as it swings shut and latches itself. Because of this he sees the scaled creature leap off the fence to the ground. It goes through a dramatic transformation as it falls. The small wings on its back disappear and long black fur begins to sprout from its scales. The tail becomes thick and fluffy with fur. The creature, now looking like a large, black, long-haired cat shakes itself before trotting smugly passed John and Y/N to the back door. Its eyes are the only thing that remained unchanged, still a startling shade of red. 

The back door opens and John is led through the sunroom, a large cauldron sits off to the side tucked into a corner, and into the dark house. Lights begin to flicker on, revealing a busy, well used kitchen. Vials, bottles, and bins sit on shelves on the walls. Dried plant bundles hang on the walls and from different areas of the ceiling. A bookshelf takes up all of one wall and part of another, filled with strange books and more labeled bottles. It has a warm feel to it, the walls painted a dried sunflower yellow color. The table and chairs are the same dark wood as the cabinets, but none of the seat cushions match. The table is cluttered with items, including a large open book and a notebook and pen left there in the middle of note taking. 

Y/N leads John to a chair and has him sit, catching him as he stumbles over the woven rug under the table. Y/N spins away from him, waving her hand through the air. To John’s amazement the large book marks the open page with a bookmark and closes, floating over to a bookshelf with the notebook. Other items on the table put themselves away and others gather themselves up and arrange themselves in a neat row on the table. A book flies off the shelf and over to Y/N, flipping through its pages to find what she needs. The wood stove springs to life and a burner lights up with a bright, cheery flame. A small black cauldron jumps up from the floor, filling itself with water and setting itself on the stove to boil. 

The strange black cat jumps onto the table and stares at John with its red eyes. John focuses on the cat, entering into a staring contest. As they stare at each other Y/N gathers her hair into a bun and gets to work. 

Ingredients jump off the table as needed and fly to her. Strange smells begin to fill the kitchen as the potion begins to brew. The kitchen begins to warm and John starts to get uncomfortably hot. 

He’s broken out of the staring contest when Y/N steps up to him, taking his chin in her hand and gently removing the shirt from his face. She begins to clean the wounds on his face, being as gentle as she can but he can see the anger in her eyes and her purposely slow movements. 

The little cauldron hops off the stove and onto the table, settling upon an intricate metal stand to keep it from singeing the table. A spoon flings itself from a pitcher filled with other cooking utensils and into the cauldron, causing the contents to splash a bit. Y/N shoots it a glare and it almost seems to sulk. A box of bandages and gauze slides across the table and opening, making it easy to access. A black pouch does the same, unzipping itself and revealing a small set of surgical tools. A drawer opens and a clean cloth floats out, dipping itself under warm water from the sink, wringing itself out and floats over to Y/N. She uses the damp cloth to clean the blood off of John’s face. She then takes some gauze and a spoonful of the stuff from the cauldron, gathering some of the potion onto the gauze. She begins to apply it to John’s wounds, causing him to hiss as it starts to sting. 

“Good. You deserve it.” Y/N says , angrily, voice tightly restrained. John tries to look up at her and she clicks her tongue in annoyance. “Don’t move.” 

John stills and allows her to continue her work. “Sorry.” He mumbles. 

“You should be. You have no idea how dangerous that was. How idiotic. I warned you to stay away. I told you to stay inside. But did you listen? No! And now look at you. Bleeding at my kitchen table with me trying to prevent you from getting lycanthropy. Honestly, Mr. Wick, you’re quite lucky nothing important or time sensitive was happening otherwise you’d be screwed. As it is, I’m going to have to set up another meeting with Tabitha, which is really inconvenient for both of us. I hope your curiosity is satisfied.” A little trashcan slides over and Y/N drops the used gauze in it with some force. The trashcan slides away. She turns to the table and sets up her needle and thread. John just sits there quietly, watching her. She turns back to him with needle and thread in hand, thread so fine he can hardly see it. 

“What is that?” He can help but ask. 

“Spider silk. Now hold still. It should be numb by now so you shouldn’t feel this.” She tilts his face up towards her and begins to stitch him up. They remain quiet as she works. John closes his eyes as she works, unable to feel the needle and thread moving through his skin. 

After some time, Y/N finishes with the stitches and sets the equipment aside. “There. It’s going to scar but it shouldn’t be too bad. As long as you don’t do anything stupid and pop the stitches.” She begins to clean things up, items moving around her and putting themselves away. A cup flies out of a cupboard and sets itself gently on the table by the cauldron. Y/N scoops some of the potion out and into the cup. She then opens the fridge and pulls out a pitcher full of blue liquid, pouring it into the cup and replacing the pitcher. She sets the cup in front of John. “Wait for it to stop stirring then drink it.” 

John looks into the cup, seeing the contents swirling around in a little whirlpool. “What is it?” 

Empty vials have lined up in front of the small cauldron. The cauldron and spoon are carefully filling the vials with the potion. Little labels appear on the vials as they are filled and seal themselves up. Writing appears on the labels, neat swooping letters, and the vials march off to find their place on the shelves. 

“I mixed the draft with Kool-Aid. Should make it taste better. No promises though. Drink it. It should keep the lycanthropy from taking hold.” Y/N says with her back to him. 

John eyes the now still contents of the cup with suspicion but drinks it down. He grimaces at the taste, trying not to cough. 

“Good man. Coal will take you home.” The cat turns to look at Y/N, offended. She ignores this. “If you develop a fever, notice a sudden change in eye color, food habits, strange and sudden shifts in behavior, or develop chills and shakes, come back and see me.” 

The black cat, Coal, hops off the table and heads to the door, looking back at John. 

John stands slowly. “Wait. Are you not going to explain what happened? What’s going on? What you are?” 

Y/N sighs and turns to him. “You were attacked by a werewolf tonight. As a result and because Tanner is not the most strict with his personal hygiene routine, you were most likely exposed to the lycanthropy disease. I’ve treated you the best I can to prevent it from taking hold in your system.” She gestures around herself. “I am a witch.” She points at him. “You are an idiot.” She turns back to the counter, her back to him once more. “Good night, Mr. Wick. Stay out of the woods.” He’s clearly been dismissed. 

Coal comes around and presses himself against John’s legs, directing him to the door. John reluctantly follows the cat, still confused and head spinning trying to process everything. 

With her back to him Y/N misses tears and dried blood on the back on John’s shirt. 

~ 

John follows the strange cat out the back gate and to the road. It takes a few minutes for them to approach John’s house. John stops and looks over his shoulder “She’s my neighbor? I thought I was the last one on this road.” 

“That’s the point.” A scratchy voice says in front of him. 

“What?” John whips his head around, looking for someone. All he sees is the strange not-cat with red eyes sitting in front of him, tail flicking. “...who?” 

“Me.” The cat’s tail flicks again. “It’s just the two of us out here. Who else would it be?” 

John’s eyes go wide and he takes a step back in shock. “But-” 

The cat shakes himself. “By the stars, you’ve seen werewolves, doors opening and lights turning on by themselves, and all sorts of stuff moving, flying, and floating around you tonight but me talking is what gets you? Humans are strange.” His ears flick and he stares at John. “Guess it could just be the shock wearing off.” His head tilts. 

John raises a hand to his forehead. He can feel the tiny stitches under his fingertips. “But you’re a cat.” 

The ‘cat’s’ ears lay back and its tail flicks in irritation. “I am not a cat! I am a dragon! Drag-on! I just look like a cat. Y/N put a disguise charm on me.” He turns his head away, nose in the air. “And of course I talk. I’m a familiar. And my name is Ciolalmelfr.” He glances at John and looks away. “But Y/N calls me Coal to avoid attention. You can call me that too, I suppose. It is easier for the untrained to say anyways.” 

John pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay… Coal. What do you mean by that’s the point?” 

Coal flicks his tail and looks back at John. “People aren’t supposed to know Y/N lives here. Her house and the area are warded. Anyone who isn’t supposed to know or doesn’t need to know she lives there simply don’t know the house is there. It’s a safety feature. A lot of witches do similar things. Y/N’s set up is one of the most intricate I’ve encountered, but that’s to be expected. She is a Master Dame after all.” Coal answers, puffing himself up a bit as he brags. “It’s not surprising that you didn’t know.” 

John rubs the back of his neck, his head beginning to hurt and his lower back ache. “Alright.” He starts towards his house again. Coal follows to where John’s front lawn starts and then stops, sitting on the road and watching John. John continues for a few more steps before glancing back. He stops and turns to Coal. “Problem?” 

Coal’s tail swishes back and forth. “You have a dog. A big one. I don’t have a death wish. I’ll stay here until you get inside, thank you.” 

John shakes his head again and crosses his lawn, climbing the steps to the front door. He grabs the hidden key and unlocks the door. He gives Coal a wave before stepping inside, shutting the door behind him. He glances out the window and sees Coal still sitting in the same place. Dog comes bounding around the corner, excitedly greeting John. John greats the dog, patting him on the side and scratching him behind the ears. When John looks out the window again Coal is gone. John shakes his head. What a weird night. He reaches out and locks the door. 

~

Tag list: @pinkzsugar​

[a-copper-butterfly]

Fanfic snippet

i did a thing

yeah i wrote something. this is like an idea that im building on, may be. i dont know. if you think i should continue this, like it.

Chapter 1: A visit from the Baron

world count : 2580

Charlie/Alistair  Husk/Angel Dust

Charlie pouted at Alistair as he laughed at his own joke the laugher track poured out of his mic. He turned around to look at her plan. Husk was trying to snack back the bottle she had used to weight the corner of the page down. Vaggie slapped his hand away. He growled at her. Angel leaned again the back across from Husk pretending not to listen to Charlie.

“well dear,” Alistair asked “what gotten you so excited?” Charlie Bounced on the spot. Ginning madly,

“we have to wait for Nifty, is a surprise for all of you,” Alistair smiled with hooded eyes and lifted his arm. Charlie reached out to stop him snagging his sleeve but not his hand. He snapped his fingers and a hole formed in the celling. Nifty shrieked as she fell though it. She quickly got up and zipped over to the group. Charlie tried to glower at Alistair for being mean but a sudden shout interrupted her.

“BOY!”

The shout echoed around the lobby and everyone stopped. Turning towards the sources of the sound. The door to the hotel was open and a cold wind blow through, which was impressive in it self as this was hell and noted for its hot climate.

A tall man stood in the door way. His Black suite was picked out with red highlights and a number of knickknacks hang from the red belt at his wait. They chimed mutely in a wind that blows behind him. The top hat on his head remined her of Alistair’s, but this one had feathers and what look like chicken bones stuck in it. It was ringed with small skulls. His skin was as black as night seeming to draw light in to it. This contrasted with the bright white skull that was pained on the top half of his face, leaving his lower jaw bare. His bony hands rested on a back cane in front of him it was topped with a silver skull. He was not from this place. The wide grin on his faces was more mischief than evil. The smell of cigars waffled through the room as his words died away. His eyes glowed like the fires of hell but Charlie knew no fire like it and they where locked on the little gathering by the desk. Namely Alistair’s red and pinstriped back.

The static that normal filled the air around Alistair has flat lined. The singe motional sound was more eerie than the normal crackle. His face was frozen in a smug grin but his eyes where unfocused. He hadn’t turned around at the shout.

Angel recovered first,

“who’s this flash looking Motherfu…” his sentence was cut short by Husk almost jumping over the bar to cover his mouth. The genuine fear on the bartenders faces stopped the Spider demon form struggling.

Vaggie already had her spear out but her eyes where darting form man in the door way to Alistair waiting to, although unwillingly, follow his lead. Nifty was clinging to her leg visibly shaking. Her one eye unblinking as it stared at the man.

Charily who was still holding Alistair’s sleeve frowned and looked up at him. He was still frozen. She was about to speak when the sudden sound of radio static picked up again.

Alistair whirled around arms thrown wide grin on his face but the audiences track on his mic was silent.

“Baron!” he exclaimed began to make his was over to the other man. There was a tension in his movement that Charlie had never seen before. “what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I bring you news, now are you gonna invite me in or are we gonna talk out in the cold all night?” the mans grin remained on his faces but his voice managed to send chill up Charlies back. Vaggie had pushed Nifty behind the bar with Husk and was inching in front of Angel and Charlie, she didn’t like this man ether. But that may also be because Alistair seemed to know him, not just the bad vibes he was giving off.

Then Alistair did something Charlie never though she would see. He bowed to the other man, a genuine bow not a flamboyant way of mocking him but a show of respect.

“Of course, Sir, you are always welcome here,” if it wasn’t for the amp on his voice the gang may not have heard that.

The so called “Baron” stepped though the threshold of the Hotel and a cold wind followed him.

“you got anywhere for us to chat, lad you’re not gonna like what I have to say,” The Baron didn’t remove his hat and he walked with a slight strut. His foot print left marks on the floor. Alistair’s ears flicked downward for half a second. But his grin remained I place,

“this way, we can sit in the study,” with a dramatic swish of his coat tails Alistair turned and began to lead the stranger to one of the smaller rooms on the ground floor.

The mans gin was still in places when he turned to the little group by the counter.

“bring the little lady,” he said like an after though, “this affects her as well.” he breezed past Alistair into the room.

Alistair looked over at Charly she could see his ears slightly twitching, she wondered what emotion he was trying to hide.

“Charlie my dear, would you come here for a moment please.” he called. Vaggie gave her the side eye, daring her to trot over to him like a good little puppy, Charlie shrugged sheepishly at her. As she slowly, to prove a point, walked over to Alistair she looked at the foot prints the Baron had left. it looked like dirt, lose, wet dirt fresh from the ground like he had just walked though a pile of earth. She frowned at the mess, Nifty would throw a fit over this. Then she remembered the way the small cleaner had cowered at the sight of the tall man, I think she if fine to leave it for now.

She scowled at Alistair as she slipped passed him into the room. Alistair closed the door behind her with a resounding thud. She suddenly felt trapped.

The Baron was reclining in a winged back chair facing them, his legs where crossed and Charlie could see the caked mud on his shiny black shoes. She pouted at the mess he had left leading up to the chair. Alistair walked further into the room his hands behind his back, his smirk in places. But now that they where out of the prying eye of the lobby his smugness was losing it strength. The Baron observed the two as Charlie was guided to a small sofa facing him. Alistair remained standing behind her laying a hand on her shoulder. The hand could be seen as comforting, reassuring her that he was with her in the situation but it could also be seen as stopping her form running.

“sweet heart may I introduces Baron Samedi,” he smiled sweetly at Charlie as he gestured at the newly named Baron Samedi, who smiled and gave her a friendly nod. “Baron may I introduces Princess Charlotte Magne of hell, and manager of this fine establishments.” The Baron Laughed out loud and Charlie tried to stop her polite smile form dropping,

“so you’re the one who came up with this kooky idea,” he slapped his thighs and threw his head back.

The laughed continued. Charlie was really struggling to keep a polite face on. A twitch from the hand on her shoulder made her look up at Alistair, his face hadn’t changed but the slight vibration running through his ears suggested he was getting very irritated with this man. Why he was showing restraint now was worrying.

As his laughing died down, the Baron he sat up stair in his chair.

“I though it was a little out of character for the lad, but it’s an interesting idea, redemption and all that. I myself am in the reincarnation business.” At this Charlie brighten up smiling widely and wiggling in her seat,

“really that’s amazing, how do you pick who gets reincarnated have you ever taken anyone form hell?” she had a hundred more questions on her tongue but Alistair tighten his gip on her shoulder and the Baron waving his hand made her stop. That hand may not have been for comfort alter all.

“but that not what I came here to talk about,” the Baron was staring at Alistair again, “I need to talk to you boy, but I’m not doing it when your covered in shadows,” Charlie felt the hand slip from her shoulder,

“Any way to change your mind?” she heard the demon next to her say, it was without his normal energy. the Baron leaned his elbows on his knees and shook his head. Charlie heard Alistair sigh,

“very well,” he said and suddenly the room was full of wind. It swept past her, blowing her hair everywhere. The shadows on the walls that flowed Alistair everywhere where being affected by this mystical gale as well. they writhed and snatched at nothingness before being dragged towards the door and out of the room. The baron just sat there unaffected by this. the light in the room flickered and then when out plunging the room into darkness.

Charly had to use both hands the swipe the hair out of her face when as quickly as it had started the gale stopped. She looked around her eyes not yet accustom to the dark. The hiss of a match being lit caught her attention the white skull on the Baron’s face was momentary illuminated by the flair of the match as he lit a fat cigar. He took a pull, the ember at the end lighting his faces again. It was then that Charlie noticed it, well rather noticed the lack of noise. The static that followed Alistair around much like his shadows was gone. She was shocked to find herself panicking, where was he. had the Baron done something to him. She could feel the panic turning into rage as she looked around franticly for Alistair. The cling of glass made her turn to one of the corners,

“Drink my dear?” it was Alistair’s voice but it was different. It didn’t have the chatty nature or volume it normally had, it was softer, less jarring and almost peace full. The relief that flooded her system nearly made her sag into the chair but she could still feel the Barons eyes on her in the gloom,

“Err, yes please,” she replied. There was a cling of glass a second time and she could feel the air around her move.

The Baron took another pull of his cigar lighting the small bubble by his face. A hand appeared holding a glass of what looked like whisky. The hand was pale and the cuff of a brown jacket covered the arm. No claws tipped its fingers, it jerked away form the light when the baron took the offered glass.

“why so shy boy?” he said a light chuckle in his voice. Charlie felt the hand on her shoulder again and nearly jumped out of her skin. She looked up at where she though Alistair might be. Why was he being shy? What was he hiding? The hand slipped down her arm and lifted it at the elbow, he pressed a cold glass into her hand. Oh yes, her drink. she smiled up at Alistair his hands where a little colder than normal but she could feel the smooth skin where as she had only ever felt his gloves.

“thank you,” she muttered trying to make out his shape in the dark. she felt the sofa next to her dip as he sat down.

“with the grates respected Baron, Your Business?” The Baron was back to laughing again. Alistair’s voice was soothing like this but it was also unnerving, when she had gotten use to the static and the laughed track, just hearing his pure unaffected voice was strange. She took a sip of her drink, it was whisky, not her favour but she needed it at this point. Her eyes where gradually focusing in the dark room she looked over at the demon and noticed one thing. He didn’t have his ears.

“another blooded soul has dropped into my care,” the Baron said when he had finished laughing. Charlie could feel the tension pouring off Alistair now. The Baron seemed to know this but took a pull form his cigar again, “and another on the way,” Charlie could make out clear shaped now. The Baron had his legs over the arm of the chair and was blowing smoke up into the rafters. A measured breath from Alistair pulled her back to him,

“how old?” he asked quietly,

“the one here already or the one on her way?” The Baron asked all the mirth from his previous conversations had gone,

“both,” it was a short answer. The Baron shifted in his seat,

“the youngest had just seen her fifth summer, the oldest has seen about twelve,” another wave of smoke nearly made Charlie cough.

“curse form birth?” another short and to the point question.

“of course they are, boy, otherwise they would be no threat.” The creek of the Chair alerted Charlie to the Baron standing up. Alistair jumped up from next to her “Look, I’m only here to warn you. This isn’t my area I’m just the messenger here. So do what you think is best. Destroy them or whatever.” She could feel the Baron grin, “you’re always saying you would like more of a challenge. What better to challenge you than yourself” he began to laugh again.

The wind was back again. It was coming from the other direction this time. Charlie was nearly blown off the sofa. when she had pulled the hair out of her eyes again the lights where up and Alister was standing grinning at the Baron. The static was back. It was almost comforting.

“well Baron it has been a pleasure as always.” He bowed again as he said this. The Baron grinned,

“you should join us for a party at some point lad, the misses would love to see ya again,” he chucked “you can bring your princess, its been a while since the Guédé family have dined with royalty.”

He began to laugh louder this time. The wind whipped around his feet it seemed to be full of ash. It began to cover his body as he laughed before long he was completely enveloped in the ashy wind. The moment his laughter faded the wind stopped, dropping a layer of ash onto the carpet along with his muddy foot prints.

The Door was kicked open by Vaggie less than two seconds later. Nifty who seemed to have gotten over her fear zipped into the room, made a unholy screech and began to clean up the mess. Vaggie was beside Charlie,

“what happened? where is the creepy skull man?” Angel and Husk where wisely staying by the door. Alistair was still watching where the Baron had been. Abruptly he turned and walked out of the room pushing past the two men at the door.

“jeez what’s gotten into him?” Angel asked crossing his arms as he leaned on the door frame.