what I write

Trick or Treat

A/N: I can’t even believe I’m writing this. It’s 2am and I have to get up in 4 hours.  But I’m seriously so fucked up by that video I have to do something about it.  HE LICKED THE FUCKING SWORD YOU GUYS.

Originally posted by dailyniall

You were putting the finishing touches on your cat costume when the doorbell rang.  You were feeling a little pressed for time - Niall had invited you to a costume party at the house of one of his sound engineers and would be picking you up any minute.  You’d only been dating a short time, and your nerves still kicked in before each date.  He’d been nothing but sweet and gentlemanly, you hadn’t even had sex yet.  But you seemed to have a real connection and you were excited to see where this was going.

The trick or treaters had been fairly scarce tonight, it was drizzling and cold - keeping most of the younger kids at home.  You grabbed the candy dish and rushed to the door.  

You flung the door open and caught it with your foot to hold it open.  Your mouth dropped open instantly at the sight of Niall.  Dressed as a pirate.  The first thing you noticed was that he was wearing a giant gold earring.  The second thing you noticed was that he had a huge candy necklace hanging around his neck.  You put your hand over your mouth to stifle you laugh - his face was deadly serious.  He pursed his lips a bit and smirked at you.  “Hey babe. Trick.”  He lifted up the fake broadsword at his side and dragged the blade across his tongue.  “Or treat.  Your choice.”

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An Assortment of Halloweenie-ish Fic I’ve Written Over the Years

Werewolves and Witches, Oh My!

Canvas (multi-chapter, ~32k words) [playlist]

Thor takes a job as live-in housekeeper to a very particular artist, Loki Laufeyson, and quickly finds himself in a situation he can’t(or won’t?) get himself out of easily. 

Something so Magic (multi-chapter, ~13k words)

First the scars, now this. And he bakes. All while looking the way he does.

Loki is dangerously intrigued by Thor.

The Bad Things-verse (series, 6 parts, ~17k words)

“Don’t worry, I’m not in the habit of drugging humans. It’s no fun when they’re unconscious.” Loki could see Thor wink from the corner of his eye.

Loki’s eyes went wide, looking straight forward as he took a long drink, letting the booze burn his throat. This was quickly becoming the strangest and possibly most terrifying night of his life.

Wolf Like Me (one-shot, ~5k words)

Loki studies the wood grain of his table and listens to him order the same thing as Loki, and then feels his stare fall on him again as the waitress walks off. Loki dares to look back up and their eyes lock. Time seems to slow for a moment. The moon doesn’t feel so heavy on his shoulders.

And then Loki realizes.

He seems to realize too.

The Gift (one-shot, ~1k words)

“But it looks so lovely on me,” Loki said coolly. He twisted his shoulders slightly as he admired himself in the ornate mirror hanging on the wall. The locket, Thor’s locket, hung from a delicate chain against his pale chest, exposed by the open, silky robe he wore. It just barely clung to his shoulders and Thor had to keep himself from staring longingly at his neck, his pulse thrumming just beneath porcelain skin.

Dirt - Tumblr & AO3 (one-shot, ~1.2k words)

Thor’s kinda confused and Loki’s done something that’s probably not good.

Dead as a Doornail - Tumblr & AO3 (one-shot, ~1.2k words)

"you’re a reaper escorting me to the afterlife and the road there is surprisingly long au”

Maybe he needs a collar? - Tumblr & AO3 (one-shot, ~1.2k words)

Werewolf!Thor and some gratuitous smut. 

dust and devils on my conscience - Tumblr & AO3 (one-shot, ~1.5k words)

In which Loki and Thor play an intense game of hide and seek and your intrepid author doesn’t feel like writing dialogue. Sort of but not actually a human AU. 

harder than a bullet could hit you - Tumblr & AO3 (one-shot, ~1.6k words)

Thor parks in the empty lot and hops out of his car, running past the deserted camping area and playground and straight in to the thick woods.

don’t wanna make it look like it’s no big deal

in which alex and maggie’s first kiss happens outside the bar and tastes of beer and maggie cares too much to let that be how it goes

1.7k words / also on ao3
inspired by @agtalexdanvers‘s post thank you for letting me write this!

They don’t talk much that night. Sometimes successful missions just leave them feeling way more tired than in a celebratory mood, especially when Alex is so sore that her arm hurts a bit just reaching for her drink.

She glances across the table. Maggie is distracted peeling the label off her almost empty beer bottle. Not her first bottle, by the way. They may have gotten a little carried away, if only because each other’s company in a non-professional setting was still more enjoyable than just going home and getting ready to start everything again at work tomorrow.

Alex is allowing herself a moment to appreciate Maggie’s face when she looks up and their eyes meet. She’s not drunk enough to admit why she was staring, but she thinks she should probably tell Maggie someday that she’s really pretty. Like, all the time, and that Alex doesn’t think she could ever get enough of looking at her. Another time, though. Tonight, Alex just gives her a sheepish smile and takes a sip of her own beer.

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Request: Imagine Malcolm commenting on your obsession with pumpkin spice anything

“Alright, what is it?” you ask, aggravation finally getting to you as you put the steaming drink down, carefully fixing Malcolm with what you hoped to be a hard glare.

A single chortle of laughter escapes his lips as he looks speculatively at what you had apparently failed to make a sincere gaze. “Nothing” he shakes his head, an amused smile still playing on his lips as his gaze stays fixed upon you.

“Yeah, sure” you roll your eyes in return, focusing your attention on him for as long as you can, before taking another sip from your drink, bringing another chortle from the archer. “Alright, spill already!”

“You don’t think you might have had enough lattes for today?” Malcolm asks, eyebrow raised in question.

“Maybe I just need a lot of caffeine to actually get through this paperwork,” you shrug, attempting to return your focus to the work at hand.

“And it would have nothing to do with the pumpkin spice” Malcolm retorts with a knowing look.

“Shut up” you mumble, your gaze fallen as you take yet another sip from the heavenly concoction.

Soon All The Suns Will Rise: Sam

(all parts by @into-the-weeds and @c-is-for-circinate)

Intro (Summer, 1981)


  • Puck
  • Lauren
  • Sam
  • Tina (and Mike)
  • Finn
  • Quinn
  • Brittany
  • Mercedes
  • Kurt
  • Rachel
  • Santana
  • Artie
  • Blaine

Nota bene: while we stand by (almost) all Sortings as described in the following stories, we acknowledge that in other worlds and circumstances, other Sortings are equally valid for almost all of these characters.  (We’re so sorry, Tina.  We didn’t know.)

Sam is probably the only member of the Hogwarts faculty who’s actually used a computer more than twice.  He’s definitely the only one with his own email address, but half of Bach Llanblaenau wanted to keep in touch, and Sam wasn’t about to explain to an entire Muggle village how to work owl post.  It had been hard enough to train them to use email.

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Okay, but… self indulgent little fantasy, because I do what I want.

One day Sam comes back to the Bunker and Dean’s right there. “I thought you were getting groceries?”

Sam blinks once, not realizing they needed anything badly enough that Dean was seemingly waiting on his return.

“Oh, um… no. Sorry.”

“Okay.” Dean pauses, looking him over, and seeing him empty handed, not in his running gear, he narrows his eyes. “Well, where were you?”

“Um…” Sam contemplates a moment before answering. He knew it would come to this eventually, and he’s not been hiding it intentionally, he just… hasn’t said anything because Dean hasn’t asked. Now that he is asking, Sam takes a breath and answers honestly. “I see someone in town.” 

“Dude,” Dean looks a little surprised before his expression turns sly. “You’ve got some chick in town you been keepin’ all to yourself?”

“What?” Sam starts, surprised even though he shouldn’t be. Dean would go there first, always so insecure even while he hides it behind that over-the-top, lewd look he’s giving Sam right now. Sam shakes his head resolutely. “No, Dean, like… a psychiatrist. I talk to a therapist. I’ve been going once a week or so for a while now, actually.”

It’s Dean’s turn to blink at Sam. He clearly doesn’t know what to do with that, and his mouth forms a silent, unspoken “oh” before his lips purse together tightly and then he looks considering, vaguely curious.

“And… you tell this person–” Dean looks skeptical and Sam knows where he’s going immediately, cuts him off.

“No, Dean, I obviously don’t tell them the truth, Jesus. But… it still helps. A lot, actually.”

Dean looks considering again. Sam is watching him keenly, wondering and waiting to see if Dean’s going to make a thing about it. 

“Huh. Well, that’s… that’s good, then.” Dean kind of shrugs when he looks at Sam then, nodding once before turning around and disappearing back into the Bunker. Sam sighs, not realizing he had been holding his breath. That went better than expected, he supposes. And yet, he’s really not sure what Dean makes of it. 

They get caught up in a case later that afternoon and Sam doesn’t give much thought to their conversation. He figured that would be the end of it, but nearly a week later as they’re making the drive back to Lebanon, the monster of the week lying in ashes, Sam can tell there’s something on his big brother’s mind. He clearly wants to say something but can’t quite get himself to that point. After a while, Sam silently reaches over between them to take Dean’s hand in his. He rests their hands together on top of Dean’s leg and he can feel his brother’s nervous energy start to settle with just that little gesture. Sam tells him it’s okay, whatever you want to say, say it or don’t but it’s okay without using any words at all. It’s not too long later that Dean finally clears his throat.

“So, this shrink–” 

“Doctor,” Sam interjects gently.

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean shoots back automatically, rolling his eyes but obviously relaxing a little, taking comfort in their familiar kind of banter. He swallows thickly while Sam watches him patiently. He’s squeezing Sam’s hand a little in his lap.

“They um… talking to ‘em…  it really helps?” He doesn’t look at Sam when he asks, eyes stubbornly – safely, in more ways than one – on the road. Sam still smiles softly when he answers.

“Yeah, Dean, it does. A lot, actually.”

There’s another long pause and Dean keeps his eyes on the road and his teeth buried in his bottom lip until he finally glances over at his little brother.

“Okay well… maybe… do you think that… maybe I could…?” He doesn’t find the rest of the words to say what he’s asking but Sam understands him all the same. Sam is stunned and so overjoyed he barely knows what to say, because he’s wished for this for Dean for forever. His heart swells with all kinds of love and also pride, because Dean just keeps surprising him in all the best ways. He barely resists the impulse to take his brother’s face in both hands and kiss him breathless.

“Yeah, of course. Absolutely, yes.” 

They enshrined you in their
mythology, you, your
muscles always straining in their statues–
you, the line of your jaw strong and unyielding–
you, my love, my heart, the stars on your chest gleaming–
you they held onto,
you they permit to shimmer from the pages of their histories.
You, my love, always in battle in their minds,
perpetually fighting, in motion, hard edges
and carved from stone.

Me they forgot, and twisted, and
swept away–
but it doesn’t matter; I always knew you
would be the one to remain forever in the light,
my love, my heart. I remember you softer
than they will, my love, I promise.
—  I loved you, before I was born I loved you–by S.M.
the countdown

pairing: newtmas
word count: ~0.7k
warning: part x. is a bit spoilery, so if you haven’t read the fever code yet, you might wanna skip it!
summary: a writing challenge i found on pinterest→"write a story that involves a countdown. start the story at 10 and end it with 1.“

or, what newt’s and thomas’ relationship might have looked like if jdash decided to make them a thing :’)

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Do any other fanfic writers ever feel like you need to write things a certain way because you know a big portion of your audience isn’t smart enough to figure it out otherwise? Like, I need to have these two characters rehash this same argument for the fifth time, or beat a dead horse on this theme, or include some conversation that essentially spells something out, because I cannot trust this audience with subtlety. I am going to get reviews that make it clear that this has gone over their heads otherwise. Like, how do I get past this sense of responsibility to make up for my readers’ lack of reading comprehension?

Because there will be a majority that will understand, but there will be a very vocal portion that doesn’t. And I just want to write like I want to write without having to worry about whether or not my readers are capable of catching that foreshadowing or unreliable narrator or character development. 

A is for Invisible

A is for Amazon.
Those tall, strong, beautiful women, in personality, if not in stature.
The lipstick lesbians in the short skirts that make their legs go for miles.
The badass butch girls who probably could take down Hercules in a fight.
Those amazing wlw who know who they are and who they love, and defy preconceptions.
A is for L.

A is for Attitude.
Those sassy and brave men who don’t have time for your shit.
The flashy, flamboyant gays who call to each other, “Yas, queen! Slay!”
The tough guys who like sports, who hear, “But you don’t act gay!”
Those out-and-proud boys, unashamed of who they are.
A is for G.

A is for Alfred Kinsey.
He created the 0-6 scale people use to rank themselves on the straight-to-gay spectrum.
Those awesome, self-aware, and determined people who can “pass” as straight, but know they aren’t.
Some bi’s like to describe themselves as “mostly gay” or “mostly straight” but here’s a hint:
If you’re a bisexual in a “heterosexual relationship” you might find yourself kinda like us.
A is for B.

A is for Agender.
Until they decided nonbinary people fit under the trans umbrella.
Something that, despite my androgynous presentation, is still unnoticed by most.
It’s a “sir” or “ma’am” and then an apology for getting it wrong.
The part of my identity that i don’t have to argue for belonging in the community.
A is for T.

A is for Analytical.
Those courageous souls who question their own nature.
The outsiders who know they aren’t “normal” and want to know where they fit in.
The curious who search for a way to categorize and define themselves.
Those deeply introspective individuals seeking understanding of who they are.
A is for Q.

A is for Advocate.
That’s what they told me when i asked what the acronym stood for.
“Our community is inclusive!” they said.
“We welcome our straight allies, along with any closeted queers who aren’t out yet.”
Some of them changed their minds about the inclusive part, though they stand by the slogan,
A is for Ally.

A is for Invisible.
Because my classmates called me a liar when i said i didn’t have a crush on anyone.
Because my friends still say i’ll find someone eventually.
Because my mom says i just have trust or intimacy issues.
Because i didn’t hear about it until college when i found it online, and i still didn’t believe it was possible because i thought i was the only person on earth like this.

A is for Asexual.

voidfeather  asked:

Valkorion and Senya, Guardian

Send me a “Guardian” and I’ll write a drabble about one character swearing to always keep the other safe 

By the time the Anointing Ceremony is over Senya’s feet are numb from the rigid position she assumes by the Throne’s right side. The recently newly appointed Knights bow one last time Lightsabers spikes clacking loud on the marble floor.

Valkorion stands at attention as he concludes the Ceremony, letting the Masters at arms calling back their troops. The Sacred Scrolls are pulled back as the Scions begin The Solemn Vow of Endless Moonlight and Senya is throw back to the time of her own ceremony so many years ago. No, she corrects herself, it was almost like yesterday, so little time has passed and yet she feels like a different woman.

She dares a look at her Immortal Emperor, she can only see his back and yet she knows the face he sports, knows it by heart for she has observed him many times, recently it feels like en entire hobby of hers. It is a bit dangerous she acknowledge to indulge in such activity outside the spectrum of her duties, something brushes against her mind and she lowers her walls to allow the intrusion, he needs not to ask for her permission, he can easily tear down every pretense of defenses and the mere fact he does not stirs warmth in her.

I remember the first time you took your oath” his voice echoes in her mind and she thanks the Old Gods her training schooled her in maintaining a perfect composure.

I remember it too Majesty” Senya pauses, mulls over her thought acutely aware he is able to decipher all, “I swore to defend my Empire, to be the Shield of my People and the watchful protector of His Grace”

The Scions are trailing on the last high notes, it will soon be over

You sound as if it changes” Valkorion seems amused more than anything else, she will have blushed if she was the type of

Not at all Majesty, if anything, I will gladly take it once more

He is silent as he ascends once more to his throne, the sign the Ceremony is done, the court claps politely at the anointed Knights and the procession walks out of the Throne room.

Soon only the Honored Guard is present and Valkorion informs them of the next Ceremony - the Scion one this time - happening on the next day. They are then dismissed, below their feet the sun is setting on the Spire. Senya hesitates a few seconds but their Emperor calls her name and she knows to stay in her place, ignoring the curious glances of her fellow Knights she waits for the room to be empty before turning toward her ruler an eyebrow raised in a mute question.

“Do not give me that stare, their opinions are unimportant”

“I’d rather not be the focus of funny tales among soldiers” Senya counters although there is no real annoyance colouring her words, she takes a few more steps until she is so close their knees touch. Ignoring the shockwaves in her body his close presence always ignites she let her lips quivers into a smirk

“If anything i’ll beat the most curious of them in duel…. again

At this he gives a chuckle

“They might not realize what is coming for them” he gives her a small smile and Senya has to remember her name for a second, half a breath later she is kneeling on the floor in front of him, head bowed down

“I have said the words once, I will said them again Majesty, as I stand in your light, I swear this oath of allegiance to you. I will serve you unconditionally and protect Zakuul and all its people. I will stand at your side for the remainder of my days. If I should fail my duties, my life is forfeit. My heart beats at your command, my breath is drawn at your pleasure. From this moment onwards, I answer only to you”

When the last word leaves her mouth she senses him standing up as seconds tick by, finally he calls her name and she once more forgets to breathe.

“Rise Senya Tirall, your words have been heard and accounted for” she obeys him and stifles a surprise gasp when he takes both of her hands in his - less for the gesture itself but more of their choice of location - “I will welcome your presence by my side until one eternity comes to pass”

“This is a rather daring promise your Grace”

he kisses her hands softly;

“I know”