#the owl is still a WIP but I am COOKING

[catzgam3rz]

Went to the museum today and got smacked over the head with inspiration to draw so uh have some birds!

[thelikesofus]

Buddie Fic Recs

AKA Talented Mutuals Tuesday

Except I spent so long making this list that the timezones changed over BUT I wanted to show my mutuals some love and now that we are going into the hiatus I thought you might all like a list of quality fics to keep you occupied while there is no new Weewoo show. 

I don't know if anyone will actually want to join in on this but if you do the rules are simple:

SHOW YOUR MUTUALS SOME LOVE! Share your favourite fics, (or gifs, edits, literally anything that your very talented mutuals have made), as many or as few as you like but let's share the love around <3

Apologises in advance for the long post btw

@speaknowdiaz I would literally read anything that April writes and would probably sell a limb for the incredible WIPs I know she's still cooking up but here are a couple of my faves:

pining and anticipation (I don't want you like a best friend)

Buck challenges Eddie to try to hit on him after teasing Eddie for not having any ‘game’. This fic is very funny and very soft.

believe in one thing (i won't go away)

This fic hit me straight in the feels. Buck and Eddie go to couples therapy even though they aren't a couple and they work through some stuff.

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@thosetwofirefighters Incredible amazing Nat ily xx

Say It All Out Loud

Eddie comes out to Aunt Pepa after his ‘date’ with Vanessa. I am a little bit biased towards this one because she did write it for me but it's honestly just so good!

How to Cure Boredom: Buckley Edition

The 118 are stuck at the firehouse during a slow shift and Buck entertains them all by mattress-surfing the loft stairs. It’s soft and silly and in the same universe as her other fic Safe in His Arms.

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@loveyourownsmiilee The wonderful amazing Juju not only writes incredible meta and keeps us all fed with Oliver content but Juju also writes wonderful buddie fic. 

When Were You Under Me?

Who doesn’t love a Friends AU. This is Buck and Eddie as Ross and Rachel and it is hilarious and so sweet. 

You should also check out her Buddie Language Meta if you have not read it before <3

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@elvensorceress Jenwyn’s work always astounds me so be sure to check these out:

Color Him Father, Color Him Love

I will scream from the rafters how much I adore this fic and yes it did make me cry (happy tears). It’s a look into Buck’s head after his sperm donor kid is born and he realizes what Christopher (and Eddie) truly mean to him. I know I have recced this before but it deserves all the love. 

Unless You Ask Me To

Eddie dates a man for the first time, and Buck is completely 'Fine'. This is a preemptive rec because it is one chapter away from completion and I have been saving it to binge in one sitting but knowing Jenwyn and her incredible talent I guarantee this will be worth the read. 

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@spotsandsocks If anyone’s work is guaranteed to make me sob like a baby (happy, sad, or tears of laughter) it’s Spotty. 

Everything But (temptation)

This is Spotty’s newest fic and it's just brilliant. Buck is practicing extreme self-control whilst Eddie is being an irresistible menace. 

Could Have, Should Have, Would Have

Buck finally tells Eddie he loves him right before Eddie’s new boyfriend is supposed to meet Christopher. Honestly, all I can say about this fic is that it’s a masterpiece and I screamed many times while reading it. 

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@shortsighted-owl Wonderful amazing Owly (Abbi). I appreciate you so and you make my dash so happy xx

Of foam-moustached kisses, and button combinations

For all your sweet domestic buddie needs this is the fic. Eddie is practicing a video game to get better than Chris and Buck makes fun of his ex-technophobe boyfriend. 

Also THIS EDIT SET to the lyrics of You’re All That I Have by Snow Patrol make me assdffgghjjklkll

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@lilbuddie Okay, this one is just a brag because Minja doesn’t actually have any fics published yet (side eye) but I wanna make sure she is on everyone’s radar for when she does because yall are not ready for the incredible amazing talent that is this girl’s writing!! So go check out the snippets on her Tumblr and badger her until she finishes something plssssss

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@wheelsupin-five Hi! <3

Almost Almost Almost

This adorable of Buck who is always cold and Eddie warms him up I– asfffghhjkklllll

Under Kitchen Light

SO SOFT! Buck wakes up and Eddie isn't there, Buck finds him in the kitchen. 

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@rogerzsteven Simi owns my heart and by that I mean my heart is locked in a cage in Simi’s basement where it is occasionally beaten to a pulp by the most incredibly angsty fics you've ever read.

Cleanse

Buck is extremely nauseous and Eddie takes care of him while I sob over them in a corner.

build me a home underground (free from light and sound)

This fic is so brutal in all the best ways, my heart was in my throat the entire read! Buck gets trapped in a sensory deprivation room while the 118 and Athena race to find him. 

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@ashavahishta another incredibly talented mutual of mine

out of ashes

Is it really a Meegs rec list if I don’t rec this fic honestly it's engraved on my soul. This is a criminal minds/greys inspired fic where Buck is kidnapped and tortured until the 118 can find him. This fic is so so well written and means a million things to me I could never explain but pleaseeeee read it!! 

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@jobairdxx hello lovely xx

Oh, We Pray to Make it Through the Night

Highly recommend this fic, I do love a near-death experience fic! Buck gets injured on a call and Eddie falls asleep holding vigil at his bedside. 

Jules also writes beautiful poetry on Tumblr so go read some of that too <3

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@monsterrae1 MISS RAE! YOU INCREDIBLE THING! <3

love is on its way

I know we’re all a little bit in mourning over the couch theory but it lives on in our hearts and in this fic which has six moments between Buck and Eddie on the Diaz couch (and she’s a wee bit spicy too).

Buck's café (take my heart, just not my order)

Coffee Shop AU. Buck runs the shop where the 118 order all their drinks on shift. I absolutely adore this fic! 

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@alyxmastershipper RYAN!! INCREDIBLY TALENTED MUTUAL THAT YOU ARE!! 

there's always been a rainbow hangin' over your head

If “aasdsdfghhjkl” was a person it was me reading this fic. Eddie comes out to Buck, receives a quirky mug, and gets together with the love of his life. In that order.

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@bekkachaos Wonderful, amazing Bekka xxx

lose yourself in the feeling

I am a sucker for ‘accidental kisses’ and this was just wonderful. Buck is so excited about Maddie and Chim getting engaged that he kisses Eddie when he tells him. 

start me up, open my eyes

Okay, the mild sexual content tag is a lie, nothing has ever been closer to smut without actually being smut than this fic, I have never been so wound up reading a fic. Bekka builds the tension so so well. 

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@sibylsleaves honestly I'm still a little in shock that we're mutuals now so please excuse me while I fangirl over your incredible writing!

with a bird at your door

Eddie starts spending all his time with Buck. Which would be fine if it weren't for the fact that Buck is in love with him. This fic is the perfect mixture of pining, angst, and a happy ending. And yes I think about this fic frequently I love it okay. 

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@mysteriouslyyounggalaxy last but certainly not least (for now). hello lovely xx

(tell the gravedigger) better dig two

Missing scenes from while eddie is trapped in the well followed by the most perfect extended reunion scene. We all know I am a sucker for fics based on the well incident, it’s literally how i started writing for buddie but omg this fic!!!! 

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Remember to share the love around and happy hiatus to you all.

Love, Meegs xxxx

[acaciapines]

for the ask game, answer whichever of these speak to you the most: 4, 5, 11, 14 :D

HI ASH MY LOVE ASH.

oh they ALWAYS speak to me. i answer All. i will not be contained.

4. How many WIPs do you have right now?

actually shockingly few! ever since i finished my big owl house editing pass back in june i've not done a whole lot in terms of projects...and recently i've been playing rain world so instead of writing im playing rain world like 24/7. currently my only main project is the dess raises kris au, and in that 'verse the only thing i'm writing right now is a dess/chara relationship study. i WOULD finish it, but, uh. rain world. (<- guy who is trying so hard not to write rain world fic. i probably wont but also i am always tormented by ideas. but consider i have to tell the story of my slugpup scooter SCOOTER I WONT EVER FORGET YOU--)

5. What's a fic idea you've had that you will never write?

probably countless that i do not remember right now! but digging around through my drafts, i've got a few deltarune daemon aus that won't ever see the light of day...one of them was a fangame where the player played as one of kris's two daemons, and the other was a fic where ralsei was kris's daemon. the ideas from there have basically been repurposed elsewhere--a lot of my kris&ralsei stuff went into various works, and the fangame stuff is being reworked into the dess raises kris au.

beyond that, in terms of things that are actually abandoned and won't be used elsewhere, there are so many daemon aus that i've left behind for one reason or another, though the gravity falls transcendence au is the one that i think was the best...that one postcanon his dark materials fic i was gonna write where lyra and pan return to will's world and cause general shenanigans there with him and kirjava...a vera-centric son of sea foam wings of fire au because vera is the love of my life and i was rereading wings of fire bc i felt nostalgic....oh my god fantasy high SOPHOMORE YEAR FIC, which i tried to start TWICE, once from fig's pov and once from ayda's that was their road trip back home and i have some very funny snippets from...MY INFINITY TRAIN DAEMON AU WAIT THAT ONE STILL GOES SO HARD ACTUALLY. okay drop everything ive ever said the fact that i never wrote my infinity train book two daemon au is a travesty. i was cooking with that one.

11. Do you have specific playlists for writing fics?

sort of! i usually always have at least one or two songs i connect to any given fic, but in terms of what i listen to when actually WRITING, it's changed over the years. i used to put on compilations of video game music--usually utdr, pmd, and then just whatever got recommended to me lol--then i did like. those character playlists people make on youtube? mostly bc they tended to pull from the same pool of songs so it became good background noise lol. now i use the youtube mix or whatever its called for a similar reason--it tends to play the same handful of songs ive listened to a lot, so they dont distract me.

14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?

oh i LOVE this question, and it would be without a doubt my nimona daemon au oh, are you at all like me. nimona itself is obviously both a comic and a movie, and i'd say animated film since the fic follows the movie plot more--i think there'd be a LOT of really cool scenes you could get with that fic. i also think i could make killer animatics based on my fics if i could draw good enough <3 and thats not a joke i have scripts and sketch storyboards and everything. maybe one day i'll finish one of those.

[wildlife4life]

WIP Wednesday

I have gotten tagged by so many lovely and amazing people! I feel so loved and honored! Thank you @jesuisici33, @thewolvesof1998, @hippolotamus, @thekristen999, @spotsandsocks, @forthewolves, @alyxmastershipper, @spaceprincessem, @prince-buck-diaz, @panbuckley, @wikiangela, and @shortsighted-owl

I know I'm a little late to the game today, but I am trying to get my shadowing hours done so I can finally get into my program for school. So as thanks for all the tags and the patience, here is a piece of Three Taps for the Lombardi aka NFL Buck.

“Damn Buckley, you get a new helmet? Head getting knocked around less now? Because those are some seriously brilliant solutions.” Eddie jests, already making a note in his phone to message Maddie and talk to Bobby. Buck clicks his tongue, “You’re an asshole. I’m telling Linda to take the rest of week off, let you fend for yourself with meals.” He threatens emptily, trying and failing not to smile. Eddie places a hand over his heart, overdramatizing his mock dread to the threat, “Would you really deprive the man you proclaim to love more than football itself, the great wonders of Linda’s cooking?” His boyfriend snort loud and the screen shakes with his laughter, “Yes, but given your last cooking attempt, I’ll reframe from doing so.  I like the kitchen too much for you to potentially burn it down.” Eddie was not going to argue with him. His piss poor cooking skills were a fault he embraced after almost burning down their first home in Houston, trying to make a celebratory dinner for Buck after signing his million-dollar contract with the Texans. “How’s camp going? Taking your own advice and making some new friends?” Eddie asks. Evan frowns a bit, “Still getting a hang of McVay’s system. I got to know the receivers when I had those private work outs with them and at OTA’s. Wolford and Perkins are good guys, I’m around them a lot. I get along great with the O-line, especially Whitworth, which is good. Don’t need another unguarded linebacker snapping my leg.” He wrinkles his nose at the memory and Eddie notices the slight movement of the arm not holding his phone, probably rubbing scars along his left leg.  Eddie just grimaces, remembering that game, Buck’s recovery, and the potential loss of his starting job to Watson. The 2018-2019 season really was the worst for Evan. “And the defensive players?” Eddie prompts, pulling them both away from past. “Great guys. Glad to have Donald on the same team.  They all really make you work for it.” Buck sneers slightly and tries to hide it, but Eddie catches him. “What is it?”

If you want to see the other posts and snippets for this fic just search under the nfl tag on my page. Hope ya'll enjoyed!

Tagging who I hope hasn't posted yet, if so, sorry I've been off tumblr for most of the day lol: @monsterrae1, @lizzybizzyzzz, @transbuck, @glorious-spoon @911onabc, @911-on-abc, @brokenribsdiaz, @cowboydiazes, @cowboy-buddie, @starlingbite, @housewifebuck, @bigfootsmom, @try-set-me-on-fire, @homerforsure, @sibylsleaves, @princessfbi, @bekkachaos, @heartbeatdiaz

[filmflowersbangtan]

Dead of Night (preview)

pairing: gang member!jungkook x reader

genre: angst, fluff 

warnings: swearing | drug mention | gangs | in the full story, there will be violence, blood, fighting, threatening 

preview word count: 4k

you meet jungkook in a diner in the early morning where it’s just the two of you in the entire place. An interesting relationship ensues, and you find out he’s not who you thought he was. He’s a prominent member of the city’s most powerful gang, surrounded by danger and trouble. But you still want him.

--

author’s note: I sincerely apologize for being gone for so long and for not updating any of my fics. To everyone waiting on IMSWY pt. ii: I am so sorry for taking so long with it. It’s still in my WIPs, and I haven’t given up on it yet, but it is on the back burner right now since I have many other ideas bubbling up that I absolutely have to write or else they will probably internally set me aflame (lol). 

I will be deleting many of my fics soon. I will be keeping “Unbound,” “I Must Still Want You,” “Heartbreaker with a Heart of Gold,” and “Lonely Planets.” Everything else I will be deleting because I have no desire to finish working on them or I simply do not like them anymore and can’t see them going anywhere.

I also will probably not be writing anymore series. Everything will most likely be one shot because every time I start a series, I get too overwhelmed with the idea of updating parts and finishing them that I just end up postponing them for too long and leaving too many people who have been looking forward to them disappointed. I do want to say that I have been going through So Much since I last posted Lonely Planets pt. ii and IMSWY, but I am in a so so so much better place now. That’s why I’m even writing this story now.

This will be a oneshot. It will not be a series. It will be very long. I am almost finished with it, but I am posting this preview just to see if you all would like to continue reading it.

Thank you all. I appreciate all the feedback and the follows and the reblogs so, so much. The feedback and the reblogs of Heartbreaker with a Heart of Gold is what really motivated me to write this one. I hope you all enjoy it. 😊

--

Being alone was like an addiction. It was fulfilling and appealing and…well, lonely. 

Two in the morning diner stops during the weekdays had become routine. The place was completely empty save for a waitress and a cook and maybe a tired trucker. You tucked yourself in a booth in the back. The vinyl seats were cracked and uncomfortable, the lighting was stark and washed everything raw. But it was comforting. Sleep was evasive and your apartment was barely unpacked, boxes stacked haphazardly in the dining area and the mattress on the living room floor. It was your idea to move to this vast city far away from home. This city swallowed everything in its incessant noise. Nocturnal and teeming with cars and neon lights. It never rested and the two of you had that in common. You took solace in that. 

The air was thick with bacon grease and bitter black coffee. Every morning you had waffles and orange juice. The refills were free and the waffles were the exact same circumference as the plate underneath it. Time was stagnant here. The city pressed against the plate glass windows, but the reflections from inside barred its entry. If you looked out, you simply stared directly at yourself. Maybe there was some kind of metaphor in that. 

The night shift waitress, Bethany, set your plate of steaming waffles on the table as well as a glass syrup dispenser. She knew you by name and you thanked her for the food. She smiled sweetly and left you be. 

The door chimed, denoting the entry of another patron. You didn’t look up. Bethany greeted the person in her cheerful customer service voice. You knew she didn’t actually sound like that. Once, you glimpsed her smoking a cigarette by the dumpster at the back of the diner arguing with her boyfriend on her cell phone. She had a tired voice. You wondered if she was lonely, too.

As you ate, Bethany took the patron’s order. From where you sat, his voice was a mumble. “You got it!” Bethany said before breezing away.

You glanced up from your food at the patron. Hair dyed blond, dark brown at the roots. He had a gentle face and a mouth made for smiling or furtively suppressing them. Tattoos were stippled on his arm all the way down to his knuckles. He was staring down at his phone, his fingers were slender and embellished with many silver rings. He was impossibly handsome. A paragon of beauty. 

And he looked up. Right at you. Why was it at that moment you happened to notice him, he decided to notice you, too?

Your scalp prickled with hot embarrassment. You immediately averted your eyes back to your waffles. There was only a bite remaining. Good. You could finish, get your check, pay, and leave.

Boldly, you chanced another glimpse. He did, too. This time, a smile, broad and lovely, stretched across his face. It was endearing and intimate and you had never felt so seen. It was exhilarating. A small smile crept onto your mouth. You couldn’t help it. His smile was contagious. 

This was how the following hour went. Weighted glances and secret smiles from across the room. He received his food, and he picked up his plate and mug of coffee and…was he coming this way?

You watched him, eyes wide, as he sauntered over to your booth and set his items on your table. “May I sit?” he said. His voice was the perfect match to his face. Smooth, sonorous, soft. Crushed velvet. 

Jerkily, like you had never done it before, you nodded. He sat. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” you replied. 

“I’m Jungkook.”

You told him your name. He repeated it once, twice, thrice. Like he enjoyed the feel of it in his mouth, rolling it around like a piece of hard candy he didn’t want to dissolve on his tongue just yet. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He reached his hand over the table. You smiled and shook it. 

His plate was piled with pancakes and sausages and scrambled eggs. He dug in. In between bites, he asked, “So what brings you here at this time of night?” “I have trouble sleeping. And you?” Your chest was tight with the awkwardness of it all, but he appeared to be perfectly at ease. 

“I’m just a night owl. Or I’m a vampire.” He shrugged nonchalantly as he continued eating.

Surprisingly, laughter bubbled from you until you couldn’t help the giggles that shook you. How long had it been since you had a conversation with anyone? Your store had been a drought for the past month, only a couple of people coming in a day. You didn’t call home because your parents would ask how you’ve been, and that topic lit a fire in your skull. Bethany was just a waitress doing her job. And Nora was always busy. It was refreshing to have someone sit with you. Talk with you. Want to be near you. 

His eyes danced at the sound of your laughter. It was an innocuous expression, boyish in how pure it was. 

You covered your mouth with your hands to mask the laughter. And he gently grabbed your wrist and removed them. “I like your laugh.”

Butterflies unfurled their wings in your stomach and fluttered in a frantic cluster. He resumed his meal as if nothing happened. “So what do you do?”

You cleared your throat. “I own a used book and record store downtown. It’s small and kind of hidden from the street, but it’s there.” You chuckled nervously. You were proud of that store, but you might have to close it down soon and return to your hometown with your tail tucked in between your legs if the revenue continued as it did. 

His eyebrows shot up. “Wow. That’s super cool. I like records. Books, not so much. Where is it located?”

You told him the address. “By that bodega on the corner.”

“The one that sells the really good blue raspberry shaved ice?”

You snapped your fingers. “That’s the one.”

“I’ll definitely have to stop by.” 

This was how the next few hours went. Talking about everything and nothing. He had lived in the city his entire life, worked as a freelance artist, had an apartment not too far away. Plates had been swept away by Bethany long ago. Refills poured, drained, and poured again.

And then, “Do you maybe want to get out of here? Kick it at my place?” Jungkook asked. His expression was open and genuine. 

You didn’t know if that was a good idea. But talking to him was stimulating and you didn’t want it to end. 

He noticed your hesitation. “Turn you location on your phone, I’ll even give you my address so you can send it to your friends. Anything to make you feel comfortable.”

He was right. He didn’t live that far. It was barely past five o’ clock in the morning, the city was still awake, billboards alight. The buildings towered, dark against the predawn blue of the sky. The apartment building was modest and typical of the city. Clean and affordable but just expensive enough to be appealing to a specific demographic of college students and those with decent enough jobs. His apartment was on the third floor and was charming with brick walls and high ceilings. There was a bookshelf packed with vinyl records, even more in milk crates. A record player in pristine condition sat on an end table beside an armchair. 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Jungkook said, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the front door. 

“You said you liked records,” you replied, browsing his collection. 

“I did.”

“This isn’t liking records. This is a goddamn treasure trove.” You pushed your hair behind your ear, eager to move it from your face. “Bowie, Billie Holiday, Bob Dylan, Prince. You even have a rare version of Hendrix’s Electric Ladyland. With the naked women! This is incredible.” 

He laughed. “I see you are a woman of taste.” 

“If only my dad could see this. I’m afraid to touch anything.” 

“I’m sure you don’t have clumsy hands with records. Since you have a record store and all.”

You laughed. “I appreciate the trust.”

“So what would you like to listen to?”

You mulled it over, taking your time examining the sleeves of the records. Then you found one.

He smiled when you showed him the cover art. “Perfect.” 

Frank Ocean’s Blond. A modern classic. Perfect for the liminal hour of five AM. 

Jungkook slipped it from its sleeve, fingers on the slim rounded edges of the record. He carefully settled it on the turntable, placed the needle on the disc, and played the album. There was the classic crackle of vinyl, and then the first track emanated. It was a phantasm of sound, rich and ethereal. Light but weighted. The song was the deep blue of the sky before the sun decided to pull itself above the horizon and emblazon the sky with its myriad of colors. It was the perfect song for this liquid moment that felt like a dream. This beautiful stranger standing before you with his incredible collection. 

And then you were in Jungkook’s arms, slowly swaying to the music. You smiled up at him and him down at you. 

The album continued on in the living room, serenading to no one. You and Jungkook had moved to the bedroom, lounging on the bed. The horizon blushed peach, casting the room in half-light. You both lay on your backs, him with an arm slung casually behind his head, you with your hands folded delicately on your stomach. 

“Thank you for paying for my meal today,” you said to him meekly. 

He smiled. “Thank you for the great conversation. And having an amazing taste in music.” 

You laughed. “What made you come sit with me anyway?”

That was when he looked at you, his mouth still slung in a smile, but his eyes sincere. “Because you’re beautiful.”

Your cheeks went hot and you giggled nervously, covering it with your hands. He rolled over and carefully removed them, his eyes on yours. For a brief moment, time was still. Your breath caught in your throat. He was so close. His lips were so close. Your noses were just barely brushing. His voice was husky when he said, “I like your laugh.”

And then he kissed you. 

In the living room, Frank Ocean sang about nights and new beginnings. 

In the bedroom, you and Jungkook were breathless. Hands on thighs. Hands in hair. Teeth on collarbones. It was a innocent hunger, one that never got too peckish. He was careful with you, didn’t dare to remove your clothes. “I like you,” he breathed into your neck. You gasped at the sensation. 

You kissed until you both eventually succumbed to sleep, the morning sun pouring drowsy golden light across the room.

It was well into the afternoon when you woke to the sound of a shower running. The room was unfamiliar. Definitely not your barren apartment with the boxes strewn about the place. And you definitely weren’t on your living room mattress tangled amongst its waves of sheets. The bed you were in was the most comfortable you’ve ever experienced. Brick walls, plants, beautiful abstract canvas paintings leaning against the wall. Then you remembered. 

The diner. The vinyl collection. The sunrise. The kiss. 

Jungkook. 

He was in the shower and you were fully dressed and the night had to have been a dream. But it wasn’t. Reality settled back onto your shoulders in agonizing waves. You were hours late opening the store. But oh, you wanted to burrow into these soft, sweet-smelling sheets and dissolve into nothing. Eventually you got up. 

The door to the bathroom was open. You thought about telling him you were leaving, but instead, you drew your name and number into the mirror steam and went home to shower and change yourself.

An entire week went by and he never called. He didn’t return to the diner, either. It hurt. Every time you lay on your side, willing yourself to sleep, the phantom feeling of his hands and lips barreled you at such an unwelcome rush you would gasp. None of it was real. You had to keep telling yourself that. None of it was real. 

Life went back to normal. Jungkook was a fleeting daydream that sifted in and out of your thoughts. The store still barely got any customers, except for the same two or three crate diggers who visited like ghosts. And then Nora, your best friend, breezed through the door. She was a city girl through and through. Large sunglasses, the omnipresent iced coffee, the expensive wardrobe curated specifically for being in front of a camera. She was partly why you moved here. The two of you were from the same hometown, and she had escaped first to chase the tail of a fashion designer career. 

“Move here!” she had said during a phone call. “You’ll love it. You’re super hipster and this city eats that shit up! And you can open up that record and book store you always dreamed of.” 

She wasn’t wrong. You loved this city but this city seemed to not love you back. Now, she pushed her sunglasses up into her hair and set her iced coffee on the counter top before you. You were sitting behind the register, feet up and reading a book when she had come in. You looked up from the paperback in your hands. “And what have I done to deserve your presence, Your Highness?”

“Good morning, dork! We’re going to a party.”

You kicked your feet down. Slipped a bookmark in the book and closed it. And you simply said, “No.”

She blinked, her smile stiff. “Why not?” 

“You know I have to open this place every single morning. I can’t go to a party and get drunk and miss another opening.”

“Stop making this store your entire life.”

“It is my entire life.”

“Well, live another one. Just for one night.” She clasped her hands together and actually pouted. “Please.”

You sighed. “You don’t have anyone else to go with?”

She perked up and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Oh, I do. I just want you to go with me. I want you to have fun for once. All you’ve done since you been here was work.”

Every single dollar and penny from your savings went to this store. It was your lifelong dream. And Nora—lovely, naïve Nora—had never needed to work for anything a day in her life. She meant well. She was never intentionally ignorant. But that didn’t make it any less frustrating. 

She also didn’t know of your time with Jungkook. It was embarrassing that he never called. It angered you that he called you beautiful and said he liked you only for it all to be false. Thank goodness you didn’t have sex with him. 

“I’ll have fun once I’m a millionaire or something,” you said to Nora.

She huffed. “I can find you someone to cover the shop for the night. You won’t even have to pay them. Please just come with me.”

“No. What if they steal something.”

She stared at you flatly. “Do you really think any of my friends—my friends—would steal? Let alone steal any of this stuff? No offense.” 

“Why do you want me to go so badly?”

“I already said. Fun. You know, music, drinks, guys.” She sang the last word and accompanied it with a little shimmy. 

“I have plenty of music and I can buy my own drinks.”

She slammed her hand against the counter top, startling you. “Stop being fucking difficult and come have some fun with me.”

So, grudgingly, you went. Albeit late because you didn’t trust anyone else to close the shop for you, but you went nonetheless. Nora did your makeup. Just glitter eyeshadow and a little eyeliner because you insisted you didn’t want much. And she picked out your outfit—a black lace bra, a crop top cardigan, and a pair of white shorts. 

“Because I can’t dress myself?” you grumbled, sliding on the clothes. 

“Exactly that. You dress too…hipster-y. You need to be hot for tonight.” 

You hadn’t worn that bra since you dated Namjoon. He was pretentious and arrogant and such a city boy it made you lightheaded. You met when he waltzed into the store shortly after you moved here. He smiled at you and you practically melted. The books were what he came for. He bought a Russian classic novel and at checkout, he discussed with you the allegory of sharing fruit in literature. He was eloquent and intelligent and so damn gorgeous you fell for him in that same moment. He scribbled his number on the receipt and told you to keep it. 

The relationship lasted for four months. He suggested you move into his high rise apartment downtown with him. It was a modern edifice, all glass and steel and money. He was the wealthiest person you had ever met in your life. And, stupidly, you were in love. 

And then you saw his text messages with some unfairly beautiful girl he followed on social media about how good she looked in his bed . He said he was lonely, that you worked too much, what else was he supposed to do? Needless to say, you left him. And you hadn’t seen him since. 

Now, Nora said to you, “And don’t think about wearing those fucking platform boots.”

“Why not?” you said, frowning. “They’re cute.”

“They look ridiculous. Like those boots that one goth girl from that cartoon you like wore.” 

You grinned, mischievous. “That’s exactly why I bought them.”

To Nora’s dismay, you wore the fucking platform boots. 

The party was in an underground venue. It wasn’t all red wine and an elaborate excuse to brag about money, like the gatherings Namjoon liked, it was edgy. A live band played pop punk on a stage, the lights in the place were dim save for the spotlights and the white Christmas lights behind the bar. Greasy pizza and liquor and neon lights. You brushed elbows with someone smoking a joint, and you were pretty sure someone was doing coke in the bathroom. 

Nora pulled you to the bar where she ordered herself a cocktail and you a craft beer. She knew you so well. 

There were so many people here. You mentally kicked yourself for not bringing flyers for your store. 

And then you saw him. Nora was talking your ear off about how hot the frontman for the band was and you almost choked on your beer. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you spat.

Nora blinked rapidly. “What? What happened?”

“This is why you brought me here. You cunt.” You didn’t mean to call her that. It wasn’t a word worn with frequent use in your vocabulary. In fact, you hated the word. But it was deserved in this situation. 

Namjoon. He was standing near the stage with a craft beer of his own in his hand, bobbing his head to the music. He didn’t like places like this. They were tacky to him. He didn’t even listen to this genre of music. What the hell was he doing here? 

The girl standing next to him turned to him and smiled. She was wearing lipstick as red as murder and her bob was so black it reflected the lights with an envious luster. She had a septum piercing, the two silver balls glittering in the low light like two tiny stars. That’s when it clicked. He was here because of her. She was that unfairly beautiful girl in his text messages. Your skin felt incandescent. 

“He had to see how hot you are. I thought you would enjoy shoving that in his face.” Lovely, naïve Nora. You wanted to slap her. 

You stood from the bar stool and set your craft beer on the bar. “I’m leaving now.”

Her face was slack with regret. Before she could form an apology, you turned and walked away. 

You were a few moments from the door when you heard your name. It wasn’t Nora. You stopped and your breath hitched. Your turned slowly, preparing to see Namjoon with that girl by his side but instead—

“Jungkook?”

His hair was black now and almost as shiny as that girl’s bob. It hung past his ears in gentle waves. He stood there in a baggy black shirt and jeans, his thumbs tucked into the front pockets. Silver bracelets draped from both wrists. In this lighting, he looked ethereal. Infernal. This couldn’t be the same man you shared a chimerical morning with. He looked like he had been created by the darkness of the city’s nights. 

Maybe it was just the hair. 

“Hi,” he said in the same way he did when he sat your table at the diner. It could’ve been mistaken as sheepishness, but his eyes were not meek. Besides the hair, you couldn’t figure out what was so different about him. 

Breathlessly, you said, “Hi.”

“You look nice.” 

Over his shoulder, you noticed Namjoon go to the bar. Nora scowled at him. He smiled amicably at her and his mouth moved, saying something. She froze, and her eyes immediately darted to you. Namjoon turned and saw you. And he started your way. 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked.

You should’ve ran out of the venue. There were a million other things you should’ve done, but instead you grabbed Jungkook and kissed him. 

Initially, he went rigid with shock, but he melted into the kiss. You felt him smile against your mouth. “Miss me that much?”

You pulled away. “I did not.” A glance over his shoulder and Namjoon was gone. You audibly exhaled. 

“What happened?” 

You ran a hand over your face. “Ex.”

“Ah,” he said. “Is that why you were leaving?”

“Yes. And now I’m going. Goodbye.” You whirled around, shoulders tense with embarrassment and headed for the stairs. 

“Wait.” He caught up to you on the stairs. “Can I go with?” There were small white string lights strung in the stairwell and the glow reflected in his eyes. They were so brown. 

“Don’t you have friends to be with?” Your phone buzzed in your back pocket with an incoming text message. Most likely your own friend dying to know who the guy you just kissed was. You ignored it. 

“They’ll be fine.” He grinned. 

“Okay,” you said, feeling yourself smile as well.

There was no destination, but you ended up at a park, sitting beside each other on a swing set. Your feet dragged in the wood chips as you pushed yourself back and forth slowly. He looked up at the night sky and sighed. “Do you want to know why I hadn’t called?”

You just looked at him. 

“This may sound like a corny excuse, but… I was afraid of what you would think of me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated before saying, “If we continued seeing each other, you would eventually find out that I’m not a freelance artist. I do paint, but that’s not what I do.”

You could feel your heartbeat gradually speeding its pace. “What do you do?” His eyes fell down to his hands. He turned them over, studying the lines in his palms. His hair slipped over his eyes. He was a portrait of affliction. “I’m a Lost Boy.”

You didn’t understand. He noticed your silence and looked up at you. “The Lost Boys. This city is practically run by them.” He corrected himself, “Ran by us.” He stopped, closed his eyes, and sighed. “I’m in a gang.”

Your voice was a whisper. “What?”  

He quickly added, “If you no longer want to associate with me, I understand. They’re—we’re—dangerous. I mean, even if you haven’t heard of us, you know us. The leather jackets, the vandalism, the fights. That venue is owned by us. The drugs at that event were supplied by us. That band playing is in our pockets. My apartment is paid by dirty money.” He laughed quietly to himself then, almost pityingly. 

The night air around you was thick with your own dread. “Is being around you dangerous?” You hadn’t meant for your voice to sound so small.

“I won’t hurt you, if that’s what you’re asking.” You could hear the unsaid “but” in his tone. 

“But what?” you prompted.

He chewed on his lip. A dimple in his left cheek appeared. “I won’t hurt you, but I can’t promise your safety. If you do decide to be around me.”

--

[fleetingpieces]

Everything we were

I know I probably shouldn’t do this cause I’ve only just started posting my neighbour fic, but this is the first Wolfstar fic I’ve ever written and I’ve been thinking about sharing it for months now, soo...here goes nothing I guess

This is a Marauder era fic, it’s a long WIP, but I’m VERY excited about it, I would love to know what you guys think!

Tagging @asthmaticpansexual in case you’re up for the ride this is going to be :D As always, thanks for reading  ❤️

Chapter 1 

The room was completely dark when Remus Lupin suddenly woke up. He hated waking up in the middle of the night, it brought back memories he would certainly like to forget. The faint red light coming from the alarm clock on his desk casted faint shadows, which was the only reason why he could vaguely make out the shapes in his empty room. He breathed out slowly, trying to calm his nerves.

There’s no one there, everything is fine.

He repeated that a few times like a mantra before glancing at the time, that read 10.30 pm in glowing numbers. There was only one hour and a half left of his eleventh birthday.

The feeling of disappointment was mild. He had already cried about it to his mum before he had gone to bed, and his dad had prepared him for this possibility for years, so he told himself he had been stupid for waiting for that letter anyway. That morning, when he had woken up to both his parents wishing him a happy birthday, he had tried very hard not to show them how much he was looking forward to checking the mail. But the day had come and gone, and no owls had visited their old cottage. Remus didn’t know much about it, but he was sure if he had been accepted at Hogwarts, he would have received word of it already.

It wasn’t that he really wanted to go to that school. He had already resigned himself to staying at home, given his special circumstances. Anyway, he didn’t need it ‘cause he was home-schooled. His dad had done his best to teach him everything he could about magic, without giving him too many details about his own time at Hogwarts, as it would be too painful. His mum had also taught him a few of the usual muggle subjects. They had been very patient and comforting when he turned five, and they had to explain why he wouldn’t be able to go to any school, wizarding or muggle. They had promised they would do anything to make him feel like he wasn’t missing out on anything.

“My love, we know you would prefer to meet other kids your age, but I promise you we will love you enough to compensate for everything.” His mother had cradled him in her lap, stroking his hair while saying those words with a sad smile on her face. Hope and Lyall had kept that promise, doting on him without restraints.

And Remus was very happy. He told himself he didn’t need more than this, both his parents loved him deeply and gave him everything they could, even with their limited resources. Not that Remus asked for much, he knew the family’s situation and the only thing he needed was company.

So no, Remus didn’t need a stupid letter.

He turned around in bed, preparing himself to sleep again, when he heard the voices. His ears perked up, curiosity getting the better of him, and he pressed his lips trying to listen. His mum and dad’s hushed voices drifted up, but there was another one he didn’t recognize. Remus frowned. Why was there someone at their house at this hour?

Slowly, the small boy crept out of bed and tiptoed to the door, cracking it open a tiny fraction. It sounded like they were in the living room downstairs, but he still couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying. As quietly as he could, he padded bare footed down the stairs, stopping just before the entrance to the room, where a warm fire was blazing.

“How do you know about it Dumbledore?”

Remus held his breath in surprise at the tone in his Dad’s voice. There was anger in it, but also something else, something Remus had only heard from his father on the first days after That Night. Fear. Cold, crippling fear that brought back memories of blood, pain and despair. Remus shook his head to get rid of them.

“Lyall, my old friend, please do not worry.” The stranger’s voice was old, wise and soothing. “I can assure you I have no intention of giving you any trouble at all.”

“But how do you know?! We were so careful, we tried to–”

“I am aware.” The old man interrupted. “Like I said, please don’t worry. As you may know, with the way things are going, I have decided to set a few spies of my own in place. One of them was watching over Greyback.”

Remus heard his parents’ sharp intake of breath, and a small, fearful sob that wobbled out of his Mum. They were quiet for a few seconds, the air in the room seemed to shift and still, forcing Remus to fight the urge to burst in and ask what they were talking about.

“Indeed,” the stranger continued as if answering something Remus’ parents couldn’t say out loud. “He was boasting about what he did and my spy picked up on it. The secret is safe, we will do our best so that no one else finds out. But I thought it would be better to come in personally to deliver this.”

There was a sound of rustling paper and another sob from Hope, this time a surprised one. Silence fell again for a few minutes and Remus was just about to peek around the corner when his dad spoke again.

“Dumbledore…This is more than we could ever hope for…but I am not sure this is the safest path for my son.”

Remus jumped at the last word, a small gasp escaping his lips. Why were they talking about him? There was a beat of stillness in the room as he covered his mouth to remain quiet. He waited until the conversation resumed again before risking a look around the corner, barely half of his face timidly poking out. His parents were sitting together, their backs facing Remus, and in front of them was the most eccentric wizard Remus had ever seen in his short life. He was wearing dark purple robes with golden stars and moons, and a matching hat. White hair and beard went past his shoulders, merging together, almost hiding the knowing smile on his face. He directed that smile at Remus as soon as he had appeared, looking at him straight through his half-moon spectacles with a twinkle in his eyes, making the young boy jump again.

“Well, I am fairly certain Remus would like to have a say in this.”

Hope and Lyall spun around as Remus stood awkwardly at the door, fiddling with his hands and looking sheepish. His mum got up at once, coming to put her hands on his cheeks.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing down here? You should be sleeping.” She stroked his hair gently.

“I heard voices…” he said, before looking up at the old wizard. “Who is that?”

The man called Dumbledore stood up, coming over to shake his hand. “Happy birthday, Remus. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts.” Remus’ eyes widened, and his heart started beating so fast it felt like a drum inside his little body. “I take it by your expression that you’ve heard of Hogwarts?”

Remus nodded cautiously. “Not much really…but it’s the school where kids learn everything about magic.”

It sounded like a question, and with his words Lyall seemed to come to life again, as he stood up as well. “Now wait a second, Dumbledore. We still haven’t decided anything, you can’t just go to my son and–”

“Lyall, please.” Hope’s voice was soft, but it made his dad stop in his tracks. “Maybe we should listen to what he has to say. We’ve always believed Remus wouldn’t be able to go to school, but if there’s even a slight chance…” Her voice cracked, eyes lined with silver. “I want him to have a normal childhood.”

Lyall looked like he wanted to argue, but he also couldn’t deny Hope something they’d both wanted so much but had deemed impossible. He nodded, defeated. Dumbledore beamed at the boy, gesturing to the seating area.

“Would you fancy a game of gobstones?”

Remus was taken aback but he nodded, dropping gingerly to the floor in front of Dumbledore’s armchair as the old man sat down again. He wasn’t an expert on people but he was weary, the old bloke was just weird. Could this all be a prank? No, his parents wouldn’t allow something so cruel. He eyed every move the man made as he waved his wand to produce a set of stones between them.

“Your mother was just telling me you are very good at studying?”

Remus shrugged, flipping his first stone. “I wouldn’t know…But I like reading. There’s not much else for me to do in the house. Oh, I also like helping Mum when she is cooking.” He looked up at Hope, who smiled affectionately at him. Dumbledore chuckled, before asking casually.

“And how would you feel about coming to study at Hogwarts?”

Remus’ heart doubled in time again. Could this be real? He hadn’t dared believe it until that moment. He thought he’d lost his last hope today about going to wizarding school and all that it implied. Meeting other boys, making friends. He could imagine himself with a wand like the one his dad used, the same one that he sometimes held between his fingers when no one was looking. He could see himself surrounded by kids, learning all sorts of tricks, turning beetles into buttons, making things hover in the air.

Remus didn’t realize how much he was smiling until his cheeks started hurting. He couldn’t believe he would actually be able to do it! All his life, he knew he was different, that he couldn’t be around other people, that...

His mind came to an abrupt halt. He couldn’t let his thoughts go further than that. He felt himself deflate, shoulders slouching and eyes going down to his lap, because surely Dumbledore didn’t know what he really was. He had read, behind his parents backs, a few of the books about dark creatures that his dad had brought home in hopes to find a cure for him. These books were not very nice when depicting him, leaving no doubts as to what wizards thought of his kind. He’d understood long ago that he wasn’t allowed to go to school not only because he was dangerous, but also because everyone would hate him.

“I can’t.” He didn’t miss how miserable his own voice sounded, “I’m not like the other kids. I’m dangerous.”

“Forgive me if I offend you, Mr Lupin, but you don’t look very dangerous to me,” said Dumbledore, smiling kindly at him.

Remus looked angrily to the side when he felt the tears prickling his eyes. He had been so good at not expecting more than what he knew he could have. He had convinced himself time and time again that this was enough, his parents’ love was enough.

It had taken all but one question for him to realize how much he wanted everything he wasn’t allowed to wish for. And it had taken all but a few seconds to destroy that hope, and now he was aching all over. There was no taking that longing back now. He wanted to learn how to make cakes out of thin air for his Mum, he wanted to learn how to defend himself. He didn't want to be helpless ever again, not after That Night. He wanted it. He really wanted to go. His voice sounded strained and desperate when he spoke next.

“You don’t understand. I’m…I’m a monster.”

“That’s not true!” Hope came in to hug him, but Remus scooted away, putting his arms around himself.

“Yes it is! I’m bad and I shouldn’t be around people! I could hurt them!”

He said this last bit looking at Dumbledore, willing him to understand, letting him know he would love to accept his offer, but it was better for everyone else if he didn’t. To his surprise, the old man was still smiling kindly at him, if not a little bit sad.

“Mr Lupin, I know perfectly well that you are a werewolf.”

Everything else froze then. Remus straightened up, surprised not only that the old man knew his secret, but also at his bluntness. Remus himself often tiptoed around the word, not to mention his own father. Dumbledore pushed further.

“But I see no reason why you shouldn’t attend Hogwarts. I am looking at you right now, and you seem like a normal boy to me. A slight setback one night a month should not be enough to keep you from your birthright.”

Remus wanted to laugh and scoff at the words “slight setback”, but weirdly enough they also comforted him. He could feel a sob ripping out of him, the tears that had gathered in his eyes spilling out.

“R-really? Ca-can I really go?”

Dumbledore’s expression softened. “Of course. I came here myself so I could discuss safety measures with your parents, and put them at ease.” He looked up at Hope and Lyall, the game of gobstones completely forgotten. Remus’ parents were standing there, unsure of how to react as Dumbledore suddenly adopted a business-like attitude. “I already have a plan of action, should you choose to accept my offer. I will make arrangements for the full moons, so that Remus can have a safe place to transform. It will be heavily protected with spells, and accessible only through a secret passage from the school grounds, guarded by a Whomping Willow. Madam Pomfrey, our school’s healer, will help young Remus to get there and heal him afterwards if needed.”

Remus dared a look at his parents. Lyall seemed at a loss for words at how fast things were going; Hope clearly didn’t understand everything Dumbledore had just said, but she was smiling brightly nonetheless. Dumbledore arched his eyebrows.

“I can assure you, I will do everything in my power to make sure Remus is safe and has a normal school life. Now Remus,” he looked down at him again, “I am sure you understand, given the prejudice around werewolves, that sadly not everyone will be as accepting, so it’s of the utmost importance to keep all of this a secret. Can you do that?” Remus hurried to nod, and the headmaster addressed his parents once more. “Does this sound like an acceptable plan to you?”

“Yes…yes!” Hope said eagerly, overwhelmed with images of her son surrounded with other kids his age, as he should be. Lyall just nodded, dumbfounded.

“So, Remus, I will ask you once again.” The wizard’s blue eyes were shining brightly when they pierced him, and Remus’ heart was beating like it was trying to run away from his own body. “Would you like to study at Hogwarts?”

Remus couldn’t help the way his face scrunched up with a new stream of tears coming down his cheeks, the sob in his throat that made him hiccough, or the way his chest seemed to expand with unbelievable joy. He almost wailed.

“Yes…Please, I want to go!” His eyesight was blurry, but he could feel his mum and dad kneeling next to him and hugging him, both crying as well. Dumbledore stood up, trying to give the family some privacy.

“Wonderful. Mr Lupin, I gave your letter to your dad. In there you will find everything you’ll need for the school year. I will see myself out.” He headed towards the entrance, stopping only for a few seconds. “I will see you again in a few months, Remus. I have no doubt you will do incredible things at Hogwarts.” He smiled down at the bundled family, and Remus tried to return one of his own through the tears.

“Thank you,” he said fervently.

The three of them stayed on the floor for a while, laughing and enjoying the moment even minutes after Dumbledore had left the house.

“Dad, can I see the letter?”

Lyall reached into his pocket and handed him the envelope that had his name written in green letters. They got up and settled together on the couch while Remus opened the flap, but before he could take out the piece of parchment, his dad put a gentle hand over his.

“Son, there’s something we should discuss first.” Remus’ heart dropped, but his dad smiled at him. “Don’t worry, I won’t say no to this.” He scoffed. “Seems to me that you will probably be more protected at Hogwarts anyway. It has always been your mom and mine’s dream to see you attend Hogwarts, you showed signs of magic from a very young age. However…”

He sighed, frowning. Then he turned so he was facing Remus completely, making sure the boy was looking at him and paying him full attention.

“Other than Dumbledore, you can’t trust anyone. Like he said, werewolves are frowned upon,” he said with a pained expression that Remus wasn’t sure how to interpret. “So whatever happens, you must not let anyone know about this, ok?” Lyall grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him a bit in the process. “I am really, really sorry to have to say this Remus, but you are gonna have to be very careful around the kids at school. I know you want to make friends, but they will not trust you if they find out. You would be putting yourself in danger, we can’t risk that. No one can ever know. No one. Do you understand?”

Lyall looked a little maniac by the end of his speech, the hold on his son was almost painful. He didn’t let go of Remus’ shoulders until the boy nodded slowly and said, “Yes dad, I understand.”

[stargazing-enby]

Soup? (for the word in wip thingy)

Hey there! ❤ no soup in my wips, but here’s another Drarry headcanon for the soft-hearted:

• One spring evening, Draco comes home from work to Harry curled on the bed with a really high temperature

• To say that Draco p a n i c s is an understatement

• He's never been responsible of anyone before! Not even a pet. And now Harry, mister I-am-independant-and-can-take-care-of-myself, is shivering under a thin blanket and a layer of sweat

• And Draco can barely fry an egg, for crying out loud! And he's been trying, really trying to get past his upbringing and learning to take care of himself

• But cooking soup? That's an impossible task. Unrealistic. He just doesn't know where to start

• But. He has to do it.

• And so he Firecalls Molly

• Molly, who immediately panics because her child is sick and starts fussing around looking for her shoes so she can Floo to Grimmauld Place and take care of Harry herself

• Because she doesn't trust Draco, you see. It's only been a few months since they told her they were dating, and she is, as Arthur keeps murmuring in Harry's direction with an apologetic expression, "still coming to terms with it all"

• But Draco... Oh, Draco wants to be able to take care of Harry himself. He's Harry's partner, after all. And Harry has taken care of him so many times before, it just isn't fair he can't do the same.

• "No," he tells Molly. "No, please. I want to learn. Just— could you— maybe tell me where to start? I just— I've never cooked soup before."

• And Molly, for what it's worth, actually stops in her tracks. She'd just assumed Draco was going to her because he didn't want to deal with Harry himself. But the kid is actually worried sick, she notices then. And he's asking her for help.

• That's when Molly's mama instincts really kick in. Not for Harry now, but for Draco

• "Make sure he's not too hot under the blankets," she commands. Because as much as her heart is melting, she still needs to make sure Harry's not dying under this boy's questionable supervision. "If he can sit up, give him some water."

• When Draco comes back to the kitchen, she starts passing him the ingredients through the Floo. She gives orders, bossy-like but patient, and Draco, against all odds, manages to cook a good pot of soup

• When he's done, he drops on a chair for a moment as he lets the bowl he's prepared for Harry cool down a bit

• "Thank you, Mrs Weasley," he says, looking flushed and exhausted, but relieved. "Sorry I had to call."

• And Molly, as much as she's been telling herself she still doesn't like the Malfoy kid, can't help but chastise him at this. "Don't you dare apologise for asking for help, young man," she tells him. "That's what mothers are for."

• When he looks up at her, she's fighting back a smile

• "Now go, go," she says before it can get awkward. "Make sure he eats all of it, you hear me?"

• The following morning, Draco sends Molly an owl telling her Harry's already feeling better

• She doesn't reply, and Draco doesn't talk to her again during the remainder of the week

• But then, when he and Harry go have dinner at the Burrow the following Saturday, Harry is incredibly suspicious

• "Why aren't you complaining?" he asks Draco before they leave the house. "You hate having dinner at the Burrow."

• And when they're there, he keeps on sending Draco squinting looks

• "Since when do you and Molly get along?" he asks Draco when he catches him outside the bathroom

• Draco just shrugs and gives him a kiss and a pat on the cheek

• "You love having a good mystery to solve," he teases him. "Why don't you find out yourself?"

[ink-flavored]

11/11/11 Game (Triple Threat)

Tagged by @multimousenette​ and @bogbodybitch​ and @nectareouswrites​! Thanks!

I’ll put my questions at the top here so you don’t have to scroll through 33 questions lmao

Questions

Do you like to cook or do you prefer going out?

How meticulous do you like to get in your world building?

How do you relax when you’re stressed?

Do you have a creative hobby outside of writing? What is it?

Luck or chance?

Is there something that you’ve decided to keep in your WIP(s) even after someone told you to get rid of it? 

What’s your battle music?

What are you most proud of yourself for?

What’s your favorite dinosaur?

What would you grow on a farm?

Blood family or found family? 

Tagging: @royalbounties @rainy-rose @aesopsrachaels @purpleshadows1989 @frankensteinn @shadeshadow234 @startroubled @farrradays and anyone else who wants to!

Alright. Now comes the doozy.

1.      What’s your preferred writing and reading genre?

Fantasy for both, though I like to read a lot of different genres

2.      What’s your favorite thing about your least favorite character?

Least favorite is tough. The character I’ve been having the hardest time writing recently is General Zhai from The God-Dragon’s Wife, mainly because I haven’t solidified her motivations yet, but if there’s one thing I know about her, it’s that she takes no shit. Which is very difficult for me, because she isn’t taking my shit either.

3.      What’s your least favorite thing about your favorite character?

Again with the favorites! Teconia is fun to write, but I feel bad about making bad things happen to her and making her sad. She gets sad a lot and then I feel guilty. Stop doing that.

4.      Which of your characters do you feel most indifferent towards? Why?

Right now, it’s Park. I don’t think we’d be friends if he was a real person (robot?) because our values are so misaligned, but he’s not a bad guy.

5.      Which of your projects means the most to you and why?

Firesoul, no doubt. It’s been an idea I’ve had since I first started writing, and the fact that I’ve been continuing to write it after all these years is a huge deal for me (i.e. a person who comes up with ideas and then abandons them forever)

6.      Is there a theme that can be found in all of your projects? Was it intentional or dd you realize after the event?

Usually there’s a theme of overcoming – whether that’s overcoming self, overcoming oppression, or overcoming adversity. I don’t do it intentionally, but I think it’s definitely informed by experiences in my life, so it would feel odd to not have it.

7.      What’s your favorite book to read? Does it have any similarities to your any of your writing projects?

The Inheritance Cycle is my favorite book series of all time and it absolutely informs my writing style. I’ve read the first book, Eragon, eight times, and seven of those times was before I turned 16. I’d be shocked if it didn’t.

8.      What have you learnt while writing that you hope everyone knows?

That I can write whatever I want, and someone will like it, even if it’s not the someone I thought would like it.

9.      What’s your biggest strength in writing?

Description, for sure.

10.  What about your weakness?

Too much description.

Seriously, though, it’s plot structure. I suck at that, and I’m awful at outlines.

11.  How many questions do you answer on character profile sheets when creating new characters?

I try to shoot for all of the ones that apply! But I don’t do a lot of character sheets so…

12.  What do you love most about your writing?

I love my worlds and settings. I pour blood, sweat, and tears into them, and I think it really pays off.

13.  What’s your favorite type of character to write?

Smart dumbasses, people who Can’t Handle Feelings, and people who Have Too Much Feelings. I have no middle ground.

14.  What inspires you to write?

Life. That’s probably the most cliché answer on the planet, but I’m very informed by the things I believe and the experiences I have. Even my horror pieces (short as they are) come from places of feeling helpless in my own life, struggling with an undiagnosed anxiety and panic disorder for most of my life.

15.  If you could talk to your protagonist, what advice would you give them?

I would gently hold Park’s metal robot face in my hands and tell him to Stop Taking All Responsibility For Everything. Good God. It’s not all about you, all the time.

I would tell Xinya that it’s okay to feel emotions sometimes. Yes, even that one.

I would tell Teconia that trusting people isn’t always a good thing.

I would tell Hayden that he is capable, no matter what he tells himself.

16.  If you had to do an escape room with one of your characters, who would you choose and why?

Park is a robot and therefore would be very logical about all possible solutions. This could either be a great thing or a terrible thing, but I’ll take my chances with the guy with a computer for a brain.

17.  How did you come up with the plot for your current wip(s)?

The God-Dragon’s Wife is inspired by a (perhaps not astoundingly written) fanfiction I read and said “Psh. I can do that.” That, and my deep held desire to marry a dragon.

Firesoul came to me at an audition for a role in my dance company’s annual Christmas show. I heard this epic, haunting music, and had a vision, essentially, of a scene from the book. Teconia herself is literally a D&D character that I liked so much I gave her a book.

Out of the Park is inspired from way back when I used to regularly play Overwatch, and my main, Zenyatta, had a skin release that was a baseball team. The rest is history/

Dragon Raising actually started as a novel that I never did anything with, because something always felt off about the delivery. When I took a comic writing class in college, everything clicked at once.

18.  What’s one line/paragraph you’ve written recently that you’re proud of?

This is from a submission for a prompt month in a fandom I’m in:

Yugi didn’t believe in ghosts. It was fun to think about, sure, but he’d never seen any “real” evidence to support the idea. His friend Ryou claimed otherwise, but they’d long since learned to agree to disagree on the subject. Of course, they were both partial to a good scare – his second favorite genre for anything was horror – and they could talk about the coolest ghost stories they’d heard for hours. Still, he had never latched on to the idea of the “soul persisting after death.” It was ridiculous, for a lot of reasons. The idea of a ghost in his house – in anyone’s house – was almost laughable.

But he didn’t have a lot of other ideas to explain this.

19.  Do you ever draw concept art for your writing?

I can’t draw, but if someone made me art of my WIPs, I would die LITERALLY for them.

20.  What do you like most about one of your protagonists and what do you like least about them?

Xinya is a powerful woman. She’s capable and smart and will kick your ass in chess. But she’s so emotionally constipated it’s actually painful for me.

Teconia is kind, strong even if she doesn’t know it yet, and loyal to her friends and family. But she refuses to use her strength until it’s too late, which is frustrating for a lot of reasons.

Park is a dumbass. This is both the reason I love and hate him.

Hayden can do remarkable things, but he never gives himself credit for them.

21.  What’s the setting of your current wip(s) and why did you choose it?

TGDW takes place in a fantasy Imperial China, which I chose because I am so sick of Fantasy Medieval Europe #4564

Firesoul takes place in Fantasy Medieval Europe #a billion, but I’m not romanticizing it. Teconia is the poorest of the poor, a racial minority, and has to keep her mage identity a secret to avoid persecution. You see exactly what that’s like in Ethallia for the average citizen, and it’s not pretty, unlike most fantasy settings where Everyone Is Good Except Our Evil King, Who Is Evil For Vague Magic Reasons.

OOTP is my personal idealized Future America, which means there is So Much Socialism. Everywhere.

Dragon Raising takes place in modern day Chicago, which I chose because wouldn’t it be hilarious if someone had to raise dragons in the middle of Chicago?

22.  What are some of your strengths that make you a good writer?

I pride myself on my description and world building, as I’m sure people have picked up by now, but I’ve also been told I’m good at writing character interactions. I’ll take it!

23.  Do you listen to music/have playlists to get you writing?

I’m one of those people who can’t write without music to block out the sounds of the real world. I don’t have any specific playlists for writing – I usually just shuffle my whole library.

24.  Who is the character that is least like you and why?

Personality wise, it’s between Park and Yu-Qi who are the least like me.

Park thinks he has to be the one to change the world – him and him alone – which is just. Come on man. Dismount from your high horse.

Yu-Qi is closer to being the opposite of me because of our similarities, ironically enough. She’s obsessive, possessive, and in a true dragon fashion, she hoards and hoards and hoards. These are qualities I share, but desperately afraid of.

25.  What is the maximum word count you are hoping for your project(s)?

Oh, this is a good question. I’ve never sat down and thought it out specifically, but I think a good novel length is 80k-200k words, so I’ll shoot for that!

26.  Do you write better in the day time or at night?

Night owl. I blame it on being born at 1:30am

27.  What are your OC(s) zodiac signs?

Well, considering only two of them exist in our star system, I’ll just guess!

Xinya: Virgo

Teconia: Pisces

Park: Scorpio

Hayden: Libra

28.  Where do you fall on the beige to purple prose spectrum?

My prose is indigo, man. I am so close to purple it’s unreal.

29.  Are you well read in the genre you hope to go into?

Absolutely! I’ve been reading fantasy since I was in first grade.

30.  What are your goals for your writing career?

I want to open people’s minds and make them think about stuff that they might not have otherwise thought about. And entertain them, of course.

31.  How comfortable are you with critical feedback?

PLEASE give me critical feedback, I’m begging you. My life has been plagued by minimal to no feedback on my writing and it’s so frustrating.

32.  Do you enjoy reading or writing romance?

Reading it: depends. Writing it: yes, but I’ve only just gotten into it!  

33.  Do you annotate your books?

Depends on the book. If I’ve read it enough times to quote direct lines, then yes. I’ll never annotate a new book.

[juniper-and-lamplight]

Recent Reads: March 3, 2018

"Recent" being a relative term: this list covers fics I read between May 2017 and February 2018. A lot of my reading from this period has already been recced via my 2017 Holiday Fic Countdown and DGHDA Fic Favorites list; but you'll still find a few Dirk/Todd fics here, alongside Johnlock, Drarry, Destiel, Finnpoe, Wolfstar, some nostalgic Sam/Frodo, and femslash from Ghostbusters, Miss Fisher, and Wonder Woman. Yes, this list is a multifandom disaster, just like me.

Silvermoon's Sparkling - askboo - 1k, T, Dirk/Todd "5 times Todd smooches Dirk on his face (+ 1 time he smooches him on his mouth)." A little fluff, a little hurt/comfort, and a little humor, all in one tidy 5+1 package. "Nothing we do is legal" makes me giggle every time.

The Stars Move Still - BeautifulFiction, read by aranel_parmadil and @consultingsmartarse​ - 96k, 9hrs 48min, E, John/Sherlock, AU "What could I want so desperately that would make me sell my soul? What could possibly compel me to surrender the part of myself that makes me who I am: the source of my magic, my self-control, everything?" I avoided this fic for YEARS because I hate most iterations of Faust, so I was extremely pleased to discover that the inspiration is very loose and thus, the fic is lovely.

O Sinners, Let's Go Down - birdsofshore - 33k, E, Harry/Draco "It seemed like such a straightforward plan ‒ a trip to Suffolk to research his mother's family tree and spend a few days relaxing by the seaside. Harry wasn't looking for anything more than that. He certainly wasn't looking for Draco Malfoy." I am already on record as being fascinated by the function of religion in the wizarding world, so OBVIOUSLY I am here for priest-in-training Draco.

If Equal Affection Cannot Be - @blueink3​ - 21k, E, John/Sherlock "Sherlock fled London a couple of years after John left him in hospital with nothing but an old walking stick and a half-hearted goodbye. Rosie grew up thinking that Sherlock died when he committed suicide in front of her father by jumping from Barts' roof. So it's somewhat awkward when they run into each other in a Sussex general store between the loaves of bread and the Mars bars..." In which it takes John and Sherlock decades to come to terms with the events of season 4. Honestly, it might take decades for me as well, but fics like this one help.

Half a Dozen Dances - CeruleanDarkangelis, read by @lockedinjohnlock-podfics​ - 19k, 2.4 hrs, E, John/Sherlock "'Seriously? You? You're going to be a stripper?' John tried to keep the amused incredulity off his face. Judging by the disgruntled look Sherlock gave him, he was not entirely successful in this endeavor.'" Normally I am not into stripper fics (for Lots Of Reasons), but the slow smolder of this fic and the music in the podfic make won me over.  

Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered - @coloursflyaway - 2k, T, Dirk/Todd "It's late and Todd finds Dirk sitting on the stairs in front of the Ridgely; there's music and confessions, and maybe, a kiss." Sweet, romantic, and reassuring for those of us who've listened to a certain YouTube video a million times.

you take me the way i am - @cosmicoceanfic - 13k, T, Dirk/Todd "'This is how Todd tries to take care of people. Through protecting them. It’s his way of trying to help, and he is constantly trying to come through every time the opportunity presents itself. So who’s taking care of Todd?' Where Dirk tries his hand at romantic gestures, and has some trouble with it." Charming and goofy, but ultimately about how wooing is not the same as partnership. Dirk's “Did I just tell you that I loved you in the middle of a rant?” is 5000% believable.

Morning Glory - @edgarallanrose - 26k, E, Dean/Castiel "Dean can no longer hunt, Cas has gone from Warrior of God to beekeeper, and Sam has left home. Taking place two years after the Season 12 finale, Dean and Cas have to learn what it means to be themselves, and who they are meant to be to each other, without the threat of an impending apocalypse hanging over their heads." It's tough being a Destiel shipper who doesn't care for AUs, which is why fics like this make me happy--it's canon-based AND filled with delicious fluffy stuff like Dean baking and Cas keeping bees.

Stronger Together - elfin - 4k, G, Dirk/Todd "Todd's been wondering - what is Dirk's type of thing?" A lovely (and funny!) look at how these characters complement and balance each other. I especially enjoy Dirk’s total matter-of-factness about his feelings for Todd.

Endurance Beyond Hope - Frayach - 19k, M, Frodo/Sam "Fourteen years after Frodo's departure from the Havens, Merry is visited at Brandy Hall by Sam and his family and discovers a well-spring of both grief and hope that he and Frodo will be reuniting beyond the grey curtain of this world."  In the words of one Ronald Weasley: "You're gonna suffer, but you're gonna be happy about it." This fic will break your heart in the best way.

And On To Something New - geordielover, read by consulting_smartass - 2k, 16min, T, John/Sherlock "John is not an idiot, despite what Sherlock seems to believe about him...he knows that everyone at the NSY is under the impression that he and Sherlock have been shagging for years." A just-right take on a familiar, beloved trope.

Are You Mine? - @gracerene09 - 91k, E, Harry/Draco, James/Teddy, series "A series of fics set in an "Epilogue-Compliant Harry Potter 'Verse," beginning with Not Just When You Want to Be: 'A little over a year after the end of the war, fate seems intent on pushing Harry and Draco together. Staying together is a different matter entirely.'" There are lot of things that I like about this series; one of them is that it deals explicitly with queerness in context, i.e. what it means to be out in the wizarding world.

be yourself my ally - imperfectcircle - 15k, G, Etta/Diana "'That’s all very flattering,' Etta says when Diana has finally run out of steam, 'but surely you have more qualified candidates than me?' 'You are of the world of men.' Diana looks a little embarrassed. 'But not a man.'" Diana and Etta go back to Themyscira." I would never have guessed that I'd like this pairing, because we saw so little of Etta in the Wonder Woman movie, but this fic makes me feel like I know here, and I LOVE IT SO HARD. Any Other Day - @irisbleufic - 3k, M, Frodo/Sam "A day just like any other, full of its own particular wonders." You need to read all the way to the end of this fic to get the full effect. And by "get the full effect" I mean "be overwhelmed by emotions."

Waking - kirargent - 3k, T, Finn/Poe "When she speaks, Poe's heart sputters like a bot without quite enough power to fully function. 'Finn is awake.' It is worse when Finn is awake." A nonlinear glimpse into the psyche of Commander Poe Dameron, dedicated Resistance fighter and lovesick idiot.

Things We're All Too Young To Know - @lavellington - 4k, T, Dirk/Todd "Todd is not the marrying kind. Or at least that's what he's been telling himself." Confession: I'm generally wary of proposal fic due to the high incidence of schmoop...which is why I adore the way THIS fic deals with Todd's very realistic and in-character reluctance about marriage.

The Last Shreds of Autumn - @merripestin - 16k, E, Frodo/Sam "Frodo recovers in Rivendell, and Sam looks after him." Good old-fashioned hobbit hurt/comfort. Revisiting this ship is like slipping into a warm bath.

i don't wanna give you up (i don't wanna let you love somebody else but me) - @notcaycepollard, read by @revolutionaryjo - 3k, 20min, E, Jillian/Erin "Erin Gilbert is not the second or even the fifth straight girl Jillian’s ever fallen for, and it’s kind of getting to be a problem, except when she sees Dr Erin Gilbert, she thinks, maybe, this woman might be a statistical outlier." Strong characterization, funny, hot, and the VOICE! Flawless.

The Moon Looks Lovely Tonight - Omi_Ohmy - 36k, M, Harry/Draco "When Harry moves into the damp and empty Black house, it doesn’t quite feel like home. And then the first owl moves in. After that, it’s a steep slope leading to bed-sharing, more owls, assorted housemates, strange potions experiments, and terrible cooking. And a bit of waltzing, too." Humor and romance and bed-sharing and found family! What more could you want?

Light in August - orestesfasting - 21k, E, Remus/Sirius "Summer, 1977. With the full moon approaching, Sirius heads up to the Lupins' countryside cottage to make himself useful. Or to make a complete and utter arse out of himself, because really, that’s all he can seem to do around Remus these days." Excellent dialogue, and wonderfully atmospheric--a very immersive reading experience.

A Room with a View - pyes - 13k, E, Finn/Poe "Poe awaits Finn's arrival at a busy spaceport after a long, lonely year spent on opposite ends of the galaxy." Poe's narrative voice in this fic is so distinctive and perfect.

Since First I Saw Your Face - Stavia_Scott_Grayson (@artemisastarte)  - WIP, M, Holmes/Watson "During the Great Hiatus, Holmes, studying in Tibet, reflects on his first meeting with Dr John Watson." A meticulously researched, gorgeously slow-burning WIP in which Holmes, desperately trying to return to Watson post-Reichenbach, reminisces about the trajectory of their relationship. If you love historical detail and EPIC amounts of pining, you need to be reading this fic.

Every Day's Most Quiet Need - @tiltedsyllogism​ - 22k, unrated, Phryne/Mac, Phryne/Jack "Doctor Elizabeth Macmillan does not traffick in regrets. Hers is an exceptionally pleasurable and useful life, made complete (if it wasn’t before) by her dear friend Phryne’s return to Melbourne. And if Mac occasionally longs for a time before her friend became somehow distracted by the stiff shoe that is Inspector Jack Robinson— well, one must always endure some bad with the good." I love everything about this fic, but especially the closely observed characterization, of both individuals and relationships. There's a moment where Mac recognizes that she and Jack share a certain kind of "well-tailored" intensity...I almost shouted "YES THIS" when I read it.

he is a feather in the wind - @xylodemon - 3k, T, Dean/Castiel "Darkness. Stillness. Castiel has been here before — briefly, but more than once. As Dean would say, this isn't his first rodeo." Once again xylodemon has written a Destiel fic that slots right into the canon plot, but is 50 times better than what the actual Supernatural writers did with that same plot.

Love: A Retrospective - xylodemon - 40k, E, Dean/Castiel "Pretending Cas is just his friend has been the only thing keeping Dean's head on straight for years. He never realized how much doing that depended on him making himself scarce in the morning -- not until Cas came back and moved into the bunker." A Destiel fic that incorporates ALL OF CANON is no small feat.

Further fic recs | Fic Bookmarks

[ncruuk]

Get to know the author: 6, 19, 24 & 25.

In non-sequential order because I’m contrary like that *g*....and because they were a great selection of questions.... so not only is there a ‘keep reading’ line but some of the answers have footnotes.....

Thank you for the great questions - I’ve had an agonising interesting evening trying to come up with the answers!

19: When it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline etc.?

Honestly?  I don’t… I just think and write.  And think some more.  I know I probably should have lists and outlines and the like.  I’ve tried few apps and programmes but never manage to actually get going with one.  

I’m not very good at writing stuff down generally - by the time I got to university I couldn’t really write for very long, so my notes during lectures were virtually non-existent compared to my fellow students (back in the days of longhand note-taking in lectures).  Two sides of A4 (UK speak for a decent sized piece of notepaper) was about my limit for a 1 hour lecture when others would be 4+ sides.  I ended up dictating all my exam scripts*.  Suffice to say, I hadn’t exactly written out many revision notes or mock essay answers either…  

I am fascinated by people who do plan/outline/draft things, fascinated in the same way I am by people who can produce fabulous craft projects or complex cooking concoctions or dance etc.  To me, it’s a completely separate and distinct activity to story telling and writing….and one for which I have the writing equivalent of two left feet!

*You think turning over the exam paper, reading questions and thinking I have no idea what to put on this blank piece of paper is bad, try sitting in a little room on your own with your exam paper, your amanuensis (willing volunteer to write to your dictation) and an invigilator...in silence because you have no idea what to answer with, the amanuensis sitting there pen poised, waiting for you to speak…

24: Have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

I’m not sure I’d call myself an ‘expert’ on anything, including all the topics I’ve supposedly studied academically or use on a day to day basis professionally…. But I certainly would never have done any of the following in the last couple of years had I not been writing in my current two fandoms of choice (Dr Who (for the Kate/Osgood) and Holby City (for the Bernie/Alex) - I’ll let you play guess the story that required each area of reading *g*:

Studied  the Queen’s Regulations (the UK Military equivalent of the US Uniform Code of Military Justice and so forth)

Read about the protocols for traumatic limb amputation by first responders outside the hospital ED environment

Studied Swiss Railway timetables and customs regulations for the importation of dairy products

Read up on the step-by-step approach needed to extubate a patient, including the UK/US differences in preferred angle to have the patient at for the procedure

Read about the Curiosity Rover SAM and how/why it ‘sings’

Got to grips with what the VLT is, what the GMT will be, why the E-ELT is going to be cool but not as cool as the OWL would have been had it been affordable enough to construct…

Various bits of quantum and particle physics, inorganic and organic chemistry, what exobiology is (vs what I thought it should be given how cool it sounds…)

25: copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of

Captain Janet Fraiser was a medical doctor and commissioned Air Force Officer. An exceptional student, both of medicine and the military, she had advanced far up the ranks of both bodies quickly, achieving far more than her career lengths would at first suggest. Her current posting, to the Centre for Disease Control in New York, was testament to her expertise in this area. Highly infectious, often unknown diseases were this lady's speciality, making her a highly valued physician, not only to her fellow medical staff, but also to the military. In short, the perfectly formed, diminutive frame that housed the vibrant personality and phenomenal intellect that was a world class doctor and scientist, as well as being a model officer, was an academic and military force to be reckoned with.

Is it my ‘best’ writing?  No.

Is it my most ‘popular’ writing?  Not by a long shot - in fact, I’m probably the only person who remembered it exists, and even then I couldn’t remember it word for word.  It’s not even finished, I can’t really remember where the story was supposed to go, nor can I read much of what comes after that first paragraph without cringing at some point.  And I certainly can’t remember the specific moment that I posted it, although the Yahoo Group I posted it in tells me it was almost 14 years ago.

It is, however, the bravest I have ever been in the context of fanfiction writing, and therefore the paragraph I’m particularly proud of.

That ordinary introductory paragraph to a long forgotten SG1 WIP is,  after a quick bit of (rather terrifying) arithmetic, words 3-130 of what is now about 1,150,000 ish words** of posted (so I can’t fiddle with it any more) fanfiction.

Had it not been for that paragraph (and the ones that followed it) and the kindness of the writers and readers in that Yahoo Group who didn’t laugh or flame but quietly encouraged, I wouldn’t have believed I could write something worth reading, wouldn’t have carried on writing, discovering a multitude of characters over the intervening years who had stories I wanted to read if only I’d just write them down first.

** Seriously, and I scared myself.  Thanks to AO3 I think I can roughly pinpoint my 1,000,000th word as being somewhere in the first few chapters of ‘Boiler or Helicopter? It’s a Matter of Perspective’.  In the process, I’ve also realised I’ve still got some of my ‘favourite’ fics to round up from their various scattered homes across the internet and dump into AO3 so they’re easier to find and reread.  Ho hum.

6: Something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now?

Early 1995.

They’re the first 2 words of the fic that is my answer to the previous question.  Because right from the beginning of my fic writing, I’ve latched onto the big idea with the long establishing backstory that I have to write in order to give my characters a proper foundation to stand on for the actual story.  It’s far too late (see previous answer re words written) to correct this habit, but boy is it making life complicated… I can’t begin to imagine all the different ideas and half thoughts I could have had room for in my ‘fic plotting brain’ if I’d not lumbered myself with writing epics…... 

[For context, the wonderful website ‘Passion and Perfection’ which was my first femslash website haven as both a reader and a writer used to run a writing challenge called ‘Epic Proportions’ for stories >20,000.  ⅓ of the stories I’ve written since rediscovering my writing for the most recent time two years ago would have qualified for that challenge.  Who knows what stories I might have discovered if I’d been a drabble expert....]