#but there were also a lot of those who didn't see any problems with mccoy's characterization so...

[lenievi]

I think the problem with TOS and me is that I need everything to follow a certain formula which includes McCoy being the one dealing with Kirk’s moods. If Kirk feels down or has a problem, I need it to be McCoy he talks to. I need it to be McCoy who gives him an advice. Spock can give him an advice too, but McCoy’s advice either needs to follow or precede (but usually follow) – because that’s the formula the show follows.

I know other people probably want more variety, but I’m very simple and want the same thing again and again, even if it only reduces McCoy to a character who’s written around Kirk. Because he is. He’s written around Kirk and Spock because he is a tool to express their emotions when neither of them can express them.

And I feel like when the show’s traditional trio roles are broken, it never works for me. Neither Kirk nor Spock can work without McCoy. I’m not saying it because I like McCoy, it’s just that you literally can’t take him out because then you even lose the kind of relationship Spock and Kirk have in the show imho

And that’s why I think a lot of novels just won’t ever work for me perfectly because a lot of authors 1. don’t know how to write McCoy 2. don’t know what role to give him because they refuse to give him his role in the show - i.e. be Kirk’s confidant. Some authors know what to do with him, but it’s rare.

[prozacnation]

LATE NIGHT

late night ! hank mccoy

warning: fluff

fem!reader

this sucks but i tried

You couldn't sleep.

    The sounds of dead souls screaming nonstop as you tried to get at least a few hours of rest before you got up to prepare your class at the X-Mansion haunted (but that's what ghosts were supposed to do, right?) you and you just couldn't even close your eyes without seeing hurt bloody faces in pure pain. You could see them in the way they looked when they died. There was even little kids. A little boy who had been seemingly tortured and killed, a baby that fell. . . Your gift came with some good sides (healing, bringing people back to life, talking to the dead), but most of the time, it was just this.

A fucking pain in the ass.

But it could be useful in missions. Because of your powers and because you were trained to fight, you were a danger to your enemies. But fighting wasn't the life you wanted. Sure, saving people was incredible. But almost dying without saying your goodbyes to those you love left marks. Marks that didn't go away no matter how much you wanted to.

Not being able to stay in bed any longer, you got up and made your way, wearing your baggy pajamas and taking your books with you, to the laboratory. You didn't want to go to the library to find someone already there. So the lab was your closest option. It was about 3AM, so it was dark out, and you didn't bring a flashlight with you, so you couldn't see anything, you just hoped you didn't trip on anything and fall, and if that happened, that no one would wake up.

When you were about 10 years old, your grandma died. But that didn't mean she was gone. She'd talk to you when no one else was awake, and you'd always tell her how your day went, how school was going. It continued on for as long as you lived. Your grandmother was your safe place. That was the first sign of your mutation to show up.

At the age of twelve, you were walking home from school, when suddenly you fell, making a huge cut on your knee that was bleeding a lot and probably would need some stitches. You blinked, and it was gone.

At fifteen, you saw a cat be run over by a truck as you walked alone. You walked over to it, feeling worried it might be dead. It was. But as soon as you touched it, its wounds healed and it got up, purring at you. At first, it was pretty damn scary, you weren't sure if it was really you, but after a while you realized your power.

Some would call you lucky, but sometimes you couldn't help to wonder, how were you lucky when you lived hiding who you were, scared people would think of you as a threat or try to use you? That's what you thought during bad days, though. Most days you were grateful you could make a change for the better in this messed up world.

Professor Xavier's school had opened doors for you that you didn't even knew existed before. You made friends that were like you, got to live safely, and taught. What could you possibly need more?

As you found your way to the lab, you ended up accidentally dropping your books and papers. "Fuck," you muttered, thanking heavens no one else was there. Oh, how wrong you were. A male voice spoke up. "Let me help you with that," he said, and you recognized it as Hank McCoy.

Hank helped you with your things and put them on a table. "Sorry, I thought no one was here," you said, putting a strand of hair behind your ear with a sheepish smile.

"It's no problem. But it is pretty late, why are you up?" he asked you, looking at his shoes and biting the inside of his cheek.

You bit your lip. It was a pretty personal problem of yours. Should you really tell him? Would it do any good? Ever since your parents found out about your mutation and acted like you were a freak, you had trust issues. While you were getting better in that sense, you still had them. So, you considered lying to him. But on the other hand, Hank was trustworthy, he had been your friend ever since you two met, even though at first he was too shy to talk that much. Now you two were comfortable talking in a way. That's why you figured you didn't have to lie to him.

It was still a hard subject to talk about. You always kept it to yourself. You hadn't even talked about it with Charles, for fuck's sake. Hank was the first person you opened up to, and that, of course, made you nervous. "So you know how I can talk to the dead?"

The tall man nodded.

"When I close my eyes, I can see them. Some wounded. Scared. Lost. And they never go away," you said, stuttering your way through the sentence like it hurt to get out. Maybe because it did. "They never go away, Hank."

"Y/N, i'm so, so sorry. You shouldn't have to go through that. No one should," he said, hugging you, his tall figure embracing you like he was never going to let go. "Is there any way I can help?"

You chuckled. He was being sweet, as always. It was something you loved about him. How could someone be so sweet? How was he real? It was just hard to believe it. But you've known him for long enough to know that it was just how he was. "It's okay, you don't have to. I'm used to it by now." It was true. You were used to it, and you thought there was nothing he, or anyone for that matter, could do to help.

"But why are you up so late, huh?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at the brown haired boy. Even though the room had lights, to you, Hank's blue eyes shined brighter. That might be pretty cliché, but oh, was it true.

"Uh, I kinda just stayed here doing some experiments," he replied awkwardly, scratching his neck. You laughed. Of course he was. Why hadn't you assumed that before you walked in?

"Well, i'm sorry for bothering you. It wasn't my intention. I'll let you be now."

"No! Don't— I mean, you don't have to," he said quickly, right as you turned around to get your things and go. "Since we're both awake, why don't we do something?" he suggested.

"What should we do? Play twenty one questions?" You said ironically with a sarcastic smile, but he didn't notice your humor, so he nodded in response. "Okay, I feel thirteen again. Let's go," you got both of you chairs side by side and sat down, waiting for him, and he quickly followed.

"You start," he said, fidgeting with his hands.

"Uh, full name?"

"Henry Philip McCoy," Hank smiled as he replied, making you smile back.

"Professor Henry Philip McCoy. . . has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" you asked and he laughed, saying he's not a professor. "You still teach the kids. So that's what i'm calling you from now on."

"You're impossible," he said.

"Believe me, I know."

"My turn. What's your favorite band?" he asked you, fixing his glasses. Instead of directly saying the response, you stood up and started singing your favorite song, knowing all the lyrics by heart. Hank laughed as he watched you, and when you were finished, he clapped. "That was. . . something."

"Hey! I am very talented," you defended yourself with an obviously fake smug look, pretending to flip your Y/H/C hair. You walked back to the chair, and sat down as he nodded, chuckling, and you just couldn't help but laugh along.

"Talented? Yes. A singer? Nope," he replied, still laughing. That's how you knew he was comfortable talking to you, he'd never say that to just anyone. Plus, he didn't mean it as an insult, just a joke.

Okay, if you were being completely honest, you had developed a small crush for Hank. A little fluttering in your stomach when he complimented the way you taught the students. A tiny blush creeping onto your features when he laughed at your jokes. What could you say? He was smart, sweet, a great teacher, an amazing friend, an outstanding scientist. . . You kind of wished you could be with him. But being realistic (or thinking you were being realistic), that wasn't going to happen. He didn't feel the same way, as far as you knew.

"Okay, where would you be if you weren't here?" you asked, curious. You knew about his life before the institute, sure, but you also wanted to know about what he wanted besides what he was already doing.

"Hmm," he took a bit to think of an answer. "Probably working with the government. Making the world better for both mutants and humans," he said, and your admiration for him grew. How could someone be so wonderful? A sudden, but familiar fluttering appeared in your stomach after he spoke. Maybe the crush wasn't so small after all.

You kept playing for about an hour. You laughed, smiled, and at some point, you teared up a bit while talking about your grandmother. The both of you were having a really good moment. One that intensified your friendship, one that made you feel like he could be your best friend.

"Okay, tell me a secret," he asked. It was probably around 6am, people would soon wake up, but you didn't care. Being there felt like everything at the moment. But that question. . . that sentence. It made you nervous. Because that was an opportunity to tell him you liked him. Would you take it?

Deep down, you knew you were going to tell Hank. But you were so nervous you almost didn't. One deep breath. Then two. Soon three. You were afraid if you opened up, you'd get more attached, and eventually lose him. "This probably isn't a secret, or i'm just very subtle," you started, chuckling to yourself. Subtle? Right. "But, um, I like you."

The look of pure surprise on his face was funny to you. "Me?" he asked, unsure of what you he had just heard. You simply nodded as a reply. "You do?" Another nod, making his ears and cheeks turn pink and start ranting on how he couldn't believe you out of all people liked him and how crushes were chemical reactions in people's brains that could easily go away.

With a smile, you slowly moved closer to Hank and kissed him. He kissed back. It was soft and delicate, but there was passion there. Feelings that didn't have to be explained through words. With that, both of you knew what you felt for each other. It took your breath away. He took your breath away.

"This might be just tiny crush that can go away and possibly ruin our friendship. Or not. Either way, you're worth it," Hank told you when you after he pulled away, your faces mere inches away from each other.

You're worth it. And even before he said that, you knew he was too.

[lenievi]

1, 20, 24, 29 for the fic writer ask meme, if you haven't already answered those? 👀

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic. a missing scene from canon where two characters talk, walking the thin line between being friends and being something more, but it isn't confirmed either way

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions. I don't have any? (Maybe that's the problem?) I need to really love the idea. When I do, I usually want it to be written because I like the process of writing and figuring out the details – it also never goes as planned because the characters have their own ideas. A lot of my fics start with - A visits B, they talk, they kiss. The kiss almost never happens :D

I usually write without music, but I don't have a place; I can write on a couch in the living room, on my bed, at the kitchen table, it doesn't really matter.

24. Have you ever deleted one of your published fics? I have. I wasn't feeling 100% about that fic, but I posted it, and I feel like I misunderstood the very first commenter who didn't say they enjoyed the fic, they just left a comment about something in the fic, and it made me feel bad, so I deleted the fic. 

It was a part of something longer that at the time wasn't completely finished, and even before publishing it when I was discussing it on discord someone said something that made me really lose my drive for the fic (and that was why I only published a part of it, why I wasn't feeling 100%). After several months I went back to the fic, finished it, posted it, and it has more than 100 kudos now~

29. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose? I guess I'll stay with TOS and mckirk, but there's this one old (well, old, it's early 2000s, like 2004, I think) mirror 'verse Kirk/McCoy fic called The Getting or the Having and its sequel Dust, which isn't finished, and I think it could be fun to write a fic set in this 'verse.

It's set after Mirror, Mirror where mirror!Kirk learned that prime mckirk were in a relationship, and when he returned back, he started to pursue McCoy - but it isn't a dark fic, nor is it written in a way modern MU tends to get written, so it's really great, and McCoy has agency and Kirk sees him as almost equal so it's just something I really like when it comes to MU fics.

Funnily enough, when I was watching Master and Commander months ago, I was like "Kirk giving McCoy species to study" (since Aubrey&Maturin reminded me of Kirk&McCoy a lot) and this fic has something similar to it, so it just hits all the right notes for me.

Thank you! <3

[meme for fic writers]