#this part of the story went through about six revisions and i'm still not happy with it but. i hope its passable

[tenderjock]

like the moon moves the tides [agent carter werewolf au]

part 0. spirit broken

I had a brother, Peggy had said, faltering, hesitant. A brother named – named Michael.

(cw for nazism, non-graphic dramatization of real-life war crimes, mention of civilian deaths, mention of torture, violence)

: :

Distomo is a mess and a half.

Dixon was boated in a few weeks ago. He’s been on his own since he left Italy, with just the occasional encoded missives from the SOE and the Americans coordinating their efforts on nearby islands and waterways.

Schmedes, the German bastard in charge here, is a nasty sort of fellow, prone to underthinking and overreacting. He isn’t too keen on wolves, either, which was too bad. Dixon himself has a soft spot for wolves, although he hasn’t worked with any furry cousins since Carter got himself taken in France.

Hell, but that’s been years, now. He rather misses the poor fellow.

He’s holed up in a small, ricketed shack just outside Distomo proper, overlooking the village. It’s a place that could generously be called quaint; Dixon thinks of it more as a rat’s hole, well aware that there is a hungry cat waiting outside.

Or inside, as it were. The Nazis hadn’t been shy when they took over.

Dixon’s been waiting for his contact to drop a letter off, containing instructions for the continued information campaign that the Allies are pulling off in Greece. It is supposed to be done at noon on 10 June 1944.

That was two hours ago. Five minutes ago, the 2nd company of the 4th Waffen-SS Polizei Panzergrendier Division started going door to door, dragging villagers out into the town square. The massacre that Dixon has feared for since he got to this piece of shite country had begun.

The SS has trucks, and firepower, and young German boys eager to prove themselves. The people of Distomo have their hands and their teeth and every ounce of fury and fear they possess. Dixon watches through a pair of binoculars as a young farmer mother is hauled away from her children, screaming. The children are hauled up next.

Dixon hesitates, for the barest moment. He’s been specifically ordered not to engage with the local population. But – but –

He grabs his emergency bag, a rifle, and ammo, and hops on his motorbike.

When he gets to Distomo, the village is gore and smoke. The SS are dragging what looks like every civilian into the center of the village, killing or maiming the ones that struggle. As Dixon’s pulling up into an alley, two young Nazis who are dragging a teenage girl along see him. He cuts the engine on his motorbike, raises the rifle and swiftly guns them down. The girl screams.

He doesn’t speak a lick of Greek, but, through a bit of pantomime, manages to convince the girl and the young boy with her – a brother, perhaps – to take the motorbike and flee. Dixon shoulders his rifle and continues into the village.

They’ve corralled the villagers into a one-block square. A few dozen SS line the streets, faces stony, guns cocked. A large, covered truck slowly backs down the street to the captured crowd. There’s a bang. The back of the truck warps, dents, and shudders.

They’ve got something in the truck. It sounds big. It sounds angry.

Dixon has a bad feeling about this.

An SS officer walks over to the back of the truck and unlatches it. Dixon raises the rifle, peering through the sight, but before he can take the shot, the wolf bursts out.

It’s a big, well-proportioned fellow, over three meters tall, shaggy and dark grey. His eyes are yellow and slit-pupiled, his claws about six inches long. He’s collared; he comes to the end of his leash and skitters to a stop with a rattle and a clash, growling.

He’s familiar, the glossy texture of his fur, the shape of his muzzle, the burn scars on his back left leg from the time he accidentally set himself on fire making beans and toast as a child. Dixon has seen this wolf before. Dixon would know that wolf anywhere.

Once, Dixon had stumbled downstairs to the kitchen of their safehouse to find Carter just back from a run. He had been delicately licking his paws clean of mud, and had frozen, pink tongue halfway out, staring at Dixon.

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. Carter had grinned right back, a lolling, dog-like thing, had whuffed at Dixon and shifted back right there and then, without a stitch on him. Most of Dixon’s best memories do not involve naked fellows, but that particular moment was the exception.

Michael Carter was a monster, of course, but he was a thoughtful monster. A kind monster. A clever, witty, loyal monster. One of the good ones.

The wolf roars at the captive villagers with no intelligence in his eyes, snaps at his leash with nothing but the frantic pain of a beaten mutt. Dixon has heard of wolves being Broken, has heard rumors that the Nazis were trying to –

But it’s a different thing to see it. He doesn’t have silver bullets on him, but he has to do something, before they release the wolf on the sobbing, cowering civilians crowded into the town square. Dixon raises his rifle, lines up the shot, and fires.

In the end, he can’t even say whether it does any good.

[merakiui]

ohhhh i love hearing abt ur process!

Btw do you live in a dorm or at home? And if you do live in a dorm, how do you deal with noise and outside stressors? When you have writer's block or you write something and it just doesnt 'fit' to you, what do you do from there? Is there ever a time you wrote and regretted going the route you went when there were multiple options during brain storming? How do you choose a character when you have a really delish prompt that fits for soooo many people? Have you ever given writing a break? How do you keep from having fandom burnout or losing interest in a fandom? How long does it take for you to write your daily asks/concepts (as opposed to your longer fics)? Do you use bullet points or do you prefer to write a hard draft that is more like the finished piece? Aaaand last but not least, what is your editing process like?

Omg omg thank you for so many questions aaaaaaa!!! >w< I'm happy you like to hear about my process!

Do I live in a dorm or at home? How do I deal with noise and outside stressors?

I live in a dorm. Noise and outside stressors don't bother me much. I have learned to tune such things out and coexist with it. I actually don't mind it; sometimes noise is comfortable. But for things like studying which require silence and focus, I often go to the library. :D I'll write there if I've finished everything on my academic schedule.

When I have writer's block or write something that doesn't "fit," where do I go from there?

I leave the scene as it is and move to another one so that I can come back and try again at a later date. Or I'll read through it and attempt to find where the "disconnect" starts so that I can either rework the scene, cut parts out, or trash it altogether. If I'm very desperate and attached to the scene, I'll write it to finishing even if it doesn't fit at first and then go back to review and revise it. And if I have writer's block with an overall piece, I'll write something else to give myself a break so that I can return to the wip with a fresh, motivated mind.

Is there a time in which I wrote something and regretted the route it went when there were multiple options?

Aaaa hmmm,,,, it's not fandom fanfiction, but in a work I wrote for my ocs I killed one of them off and I do regret it a little because her character wasn't explored as much before her death. >_< if I ever write more for that work, I would like to provide more insight into her life and what she was like through the eyes of the characters who knew her.

How do I choose a character when I have a really delish prompt that can fit many others?

I think about character dynamics, chemistry, themes, setting, and much more when deciding who to use for a concept. I tend to default to Scaramouche and Octavinelle when writing just because I'm so in love with them, but for plots like alpha!Vil with an omega!reader (which was originally an idea I had for Floyd, but I put Vil in the concept because it's much more delicious) I think about how it might work if taken a certain way with [insert character here] as opposed to another way with [insert character here]. The time loop concept was something I initially wanted to explore with Jade because he's calculating and ruthless, but then I thought it would be much better suited to a character like Rook for reasons that I won't list due to fic spoilers hehe.

Have I ever given writing a break?

I don't think I have done so before. :o the idea of it feels unimaginable because writing is such a treasured hobby of mine.

How do I prevent fandom burnout/losing interest in a fandom?

For me, it's a matter of enjoying the fandom at your own pace. I'm still completing book six in twst and I have yet to do Scaramouche's story quest in genshin (although I'm stalling because I still don't know what to name him T_T). Don't feel pressured to keep up with everything in your fandom circle. Also, taking breaks and indulging in other hobbies/interests helps me to avoid burnout or losing interest. And talking about the fandom with others can also help to keep your interest. It's always very fun to exchange thoughts and brain rot with others!!

How long does it take to write daily asks/concepts as opposed to longer fics?

Not very long! I can write a lot when I'm inspired. It also helps that the asks/concepts are like bite-sized snacks that can be enjoyed leisurely, so I just write my thoughts as they come to me.

Do I use bullet points or do I prefer to write a hard draft that is more like the finished piece?

It's a mix of both! My bullet points are often written in two ways: either they are detailed and eloquent or they are unhinged. This is one of my scene notes for tmdg (this scene has been scrapped, so it isn't a spoiler)!

As you can see, it's wildly silly. ^^;;;; but I read these notes and something activates in my brain like: I read you loud and clear, boss!!!! For the most part I try to follow my outline and the scene bullet points, but there have been many cases where I've done something different than what I originally planned because I felt it would be better.

What is my editing process like?

Lengthy. I read through the entire draft to proofread and then I take it scene by scene to look for other errors or things that I may want to revise/add at the last minute. And then I'll read through it again in its entirety to make sure everything looks good. After that, I read it again because I often feel nervous that I missed something. ^^;;; but I often view the final reading as a means of giving the fic a homemade lunch and a kiss on the cheek before I send it on its way. :D

[vision-of-scarlet]

51 "I'm your husband. It's my job"

Prompt 51: “I’m your husband. It’s my job.”So this is the perfect piece to read if you’re still traumatized from Infinity War (which I guess is probably everyone), because it will be 99% fluff. It takes place on an alternate timeline where Thanos either doesn’t come at all/comes later on (I won’t get into explaining all that because this is drabble, not an actual story). ~~~Vision closed the door with care, as he always did when he got back so late at night. He and Wanda seemed to take the entire day every day for themselves, so when grocery shopping was necessary, he would do it at night after she’d gone to sleep. She had spent many hours teasing him and then laughing herself to tears at the thought of him shopping, but she admitted that he had pretty good taste in food. She’d even taught him how to properly make paprikash, and it quickly became his favorite dish to make. It made her happy. As he floated over the particular living room boards that he knew creaked, he mused over the past six months. It had been extremely busy in the most wonderful ways.First, he had proposed to Wanda. It was unusually extravagant for him, in front of all of the Avengers. It had taken an excessive amount of planning to get all of the rival heroes in the same area without having them see each other until the right moment. It was incredibly successful, however, and ended in a lot of tears and a lot of kissing. Due to a bit of a scare, something about someone named Thanos who was supposed to be showing up, they agreed to push the wedding forward to only two months after the proposal. The wedding went similarly to the proposal, except with many more tears and kisses, Vision attempting to dance somewhat successfully, and a fair bit of something else (I’ll let you guess what that might have been).They then decided to find a home to live in together. Rhodey somehow managed to convince Secretary Ross that the lovers being on their own wouldn’t be a problem, and Tony found a wonderful place for them in Edinburgh. They settled in and decided against a honeymoon so they could be available in case of an emergency.The next three months were full of them adjusting to their normal-ish life, with the occasional mission mixed in. Their relationship brought Cap and Stark’s teams closer together again, and the Sokovia Accords were revised and then abandoned (again, something about this Thanos guy being more important. It was a lot of Rhodey and the Secretary screaming at each other). Lastly, a mere month ago, Wanda and Vision had announced that, by some miracle, they were having not one child, but two twin boys.Vision smiled at this impossible life he was living. Barely three years ago, he was a newborn android, unsure if he even possessed emotions. Now, he was preparing for a family with the love of his life. It was, quite truly, a miracle.Shortly after placing the groceries on the counter, he heard a whimper coming from their bedroom. He phased through the door, a bad habit that no longer had the consequences it once did. The sight before him made his heart drop to the floor and shatter. His beautiful wife, the most perfect thing on Earth in his eyes, was swaddled messily in bedsheets, hugging her knees into a loose version of the fetal position. Her tears created a wet spot where her head lay. Upon seeing him, she jerked up and hurriedly strived to wipe away her running mascara.“Vis!” Her voice cracked as she spoke. “I thought you’d b-be out later.”For fear of his own voice cracking, all he could manage was a whisper. “Wanda, what… what’s wrong?” He didn’t know what else to say. He sat on the bed next to her and literally lifted her onto his lap. She didn’t resist, instead wrapping her arms around his torso and hiding her face in his chest. He placed his hands on her back and rubbed slow circles.“It’s nothing, Vision. Really, it’s just hormones.”He moved one hand under her chin, and tilted her face to look at his. She rarely let him see her crying. It was something that she would always be self conscious about. He took this time to study what she looked like in this state. She relaxed into him, his soothing stare softening hers in turn.“I don’t understand. You’re still so beautiful,” he murmured after a moment. Her brows furrowed in confusion before she burst into wet laughter.“I love you.”“I love you too.” He paused. “Will you answer my question?”She half-glared at him defeatedly. “It’s… Pietro. I still miss him.”He sighed, already having assumed that was what it would be. “Of course you do. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be human.”“I don’t want to miss him anymore. It hurts too much.”Vision wanted to tell her that it hurt him, too. Seeing her like this was some kind of mental torture method. “I’ve done an extensive amount of research on the subject of mourning.” She shook her head as she slightly smiled. “I have concurred that although the feeling of loss will never fully dissipate, it will lessen over time until you barely feel it. You must simply be patient and strong.”“Vision—““Wanda. You must be strong. You have it in you, I know you do, but you must allow yourself to be strong. For him. And for the future,” he said as he brushed her stomach. “The future which is nearly upon us.”“We still have eight months to go, Vis,” she corrected, but he could tell the mention of their children had immediately lifted her spirits. “God, you’re so good at this.” She put her arms around his neck to pull her face up to meet his, and they shared a long, loving kiss. When they parted, she looked questioningly at his face. “Why do you bother?”He tilted his head, confused.“Why bother comforting me?”“I’m you husband. It’s my job. And, also, I suppose I love you. Just a little.”She laughed and kissed his fingers as he moved his thumbs to wipe her tears away, and they melded into another perfect embrace.