#jackclaw

[twothumbsandnostakeincanon]

@jackclaw replied to your post “Peter’s love language is physical touch because of being touch starved...”

pls also consider stiles with receiving/giving gifts as a love language. he just... sucks at picking out gifts

I would love it if like, he always picked out the worst, weirdest gifts, that always inevitably ended up being useful somehow. Maybe it latent magic, maybe it’s just dumb luck, but like... imagine he buys Lydia this horrific plaid shirt, just like the ugliest colors on a shirt that she would never wear, and six months later it turns out to be the tartan of some fairy colony who want it. 

Or he gets Peter a knife, and Peter’s like “thanks, I already have ten of these in my hands,” but the knife is made of a cobalt alloy and one of the only things the monster of the week can’t heal from. 

Or he gets Allison a gift card for a plant nursery and it just really turns out to be her thing. She’s just very good at plants. She’d never grown anything before, hadn’t even really considered it, but now she fucking loves shrubs. 

Stiles is notorious for picking out terrible gifts, and yet if you ask any individual member of the pack, they’ll tell you how good his gift turned out to be. 

[on-a-lucky-tide]

you will probably appreciate this--in the new gwent expansion, one the lines for the cat witcher is "Are you fucking kidding me? Catnip instead of crowns?"

Haha! Yes, I love it. The new Gwent deck has been an absolute treat for lore nerds. I’m so excited about writing new stories with the different schools. (And you just know they tucked the catnip away in their gambeson for later).

[in-love-with-writing002]

i like the idea that eskel can banter with the best of them but his true talent is being absolutely vicious in normal conversation. like someone is ranting at him while they're idk peeling potatoes and he just nods along and makes the appropriate noises until a moment to absolutely roast someone comes. but he just says it in such a level and even manner that it takes anyone who hears it a minute to realize that he's just demolished someone.

God you’re so right

It’s always the quiet people, I think— the ones who really take the time to think out exactly how they’re going to roast you that have the biggest impact.

Like now I’m imagining Eskel is on a contract, or anywhere, really, and this person starts off by saying like “I know Witchers only know monsters but I- blah, blah, blah” and Eskel tunes them out, although he’s paying very close attention— maybe the person is doing a scientific study or something, and Eskel is just sitting there... festering....

And then they get to the end of their rant, and Eskel fired back, solving their problem in one breath and undoing all their issues, but then he ends it with “but all I know is monsters since I’m a Witcher , so who knows!” 😊

[ferociousqueak]

19, 21, 28 for me asks?

19: What power(s) do you use most frequently?

When I’m a Sentinel, I’m pretty much always wearing Tech Armor, but besides that one, I wear out the Throw and Overload powers. Usually, I set up a Warp from a biotic teammate before I use a Throw. I like the explosion :D And I’ll use an Overload then have Garrus use a Concussive Shot for an equally satisfying murder :P

21: Favorite non-Normandy character?

It’s probably cheating if I say Hannah Shepard :P So besides her, I think my heart goes out most to Charr. He’s just so sweet and romantic and HE DESERVED BETTER.

28: What’s the most hilarious thing that’s happened to you while playing (a glitch, a mission that went haywire, etc)?

Most of the glitches I’ve encountered have been more frustrating that hilarious. But the one glitch I most appreciated was on Eletania when you have to chase a pyjack around for a lost nodule. Once you catch up to it, in one of the caves, there’s this one pyjack you can keep hitting that doesn’t die and each hit gives you Renegade points. So if you’re playing full Paragon like do, this is the perfect opportunity to fully max out your Renegade points :D

[mhalachai]

fic asks, 2, 14, 19?

2. What’s next on your ‘to-read’ list? (Fan fiction or otherwise)

I am currently subscribed to a whole slew of Untamed WIPs so I hop on those at every opportunity as notifications fly into my inbox. Also, reading back through old Teen Wolf stories, I really love how creative this fandom is. In real life, I just got my hands on a new book from a local author: Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia and that's up next on the reading list.

14. (For authors) Post a line of dialogue from one of your WIPs without context.

Prefaced with: “Where are you taking me?”

“To the grand land of around-the-table. Past the valley of the washstand.”

19. What’s your favorite character headcanon?

I'm really digging werewolf!Bucky right now. His souped-up stamina, his protective nature, his caution and weary resolve just speak to old wolf for me. (Also, it's got that thread of dramatic irony given the bizarre fetish the Nazis had for werewolves)

(from the fanfic asks meme)

[tarysande]

garrus and grace in the elevator after her leg is broken. i've read that fic a handful of times and that scene is always clearly pictured in my head.

Ahh yes, Life Signs. The fic where I literally broke the dolls. You know what’s shocking? IT’S BEEN SEVEN YEARS SINCE I WROTE THAT FIC. D: Where has the time gone? 

Thank you! That scene was always very vivid in my head; I’m glad it translated! 

#

He reached down, unlatching her boots. She knew he was being careful—every movement was gentle and tentative—but still, the pain as he moved her legs was blinding. Grinding her teeth together, she exhaled loudly through her nose.

It felt good—as good as anything could feel—to be rid of the boots, though.

“Broken,” she hissed through her still-clenched teeth.

His head jerked to face her. “Medi-gel?”

“I have some. But the mechanism’s busted. Have to—oh, shit—have to do this the old-fashioned way. I need—goddamnit—I need something to bite down on.”

Of course, they were in an elevator without a lot of options. After a moment, she felt his hands at her feet, and he removed one of her socks. She watched him roll it into a tight tube, and she’d have laughed if she’d been in any less pain. “Beggars can’t be choosers,” she muttered, stuffing the fabric between her teeth. It tasted better than the blood, at least.

“This is going to hurt.”

“I know,” she replied, the words muffled.

He brushed his brow against hers, softly. Tenderly. And for a single moment, she felt fine. She felt like everything was going to be fine.

Then he set the bone in her right leg, and, sock or no sock, potential hostiles or no potential hostiles, she screamed.

[loquaciousquark]

hawke letting the river carry away all her feelings and then the moment they come back. i've read that fic so many times and i cry every time.

Ahhhhhhh, yes, man oh man. Y’know, I was really worried about that when I wrote it; it was the central conceit of the whole premise and if it felt cheap or artificial the whole thing fell apart. I already felt I was stretching the reader’s suspension of disbelief as it was given the prompt (I mean, she chooses...not to feel things? And then suddenly can’t? To the point that she’s willing to emotionally devastate her friends? Who’s willing to buy something that thin?), so those two scenes I spent a loooot of time on trying to get right. It had to feel true for the rest of the fic to follow, and in retrospect I drew a lot on my own feelings at the time to try for that authenticity. I’m still grateful people were willing to come along for the ride!

There’s definitely still a few things I’d touch up on the moment her feelings come back--not even necessarily that scene in particular, but I wish I’d spaced that moment out from the knife moment more! However, this was one of the rare fics I wrote live, getting feedback chapter by chapter (or part by part, rather, since I was posting on the kink meme first), and in fact the pacing of this section and the rescue section are the exact reasons I always pre-write my fics in their entirety before posting now.

Not to overly digress, but I found myself way too easily swayed by comments asking for things to happen faster, or slower, or for certain events to happen in certain ways, and I did not like it. I could feel myself...not necessarily changing what I wrote, but definitely changing how I wrote it, constantly thinking in the back of my mind “but they said they wanted this--will they be upset? this is what I was thinking when I wrote that part earlier and it’s meant to mirror x and y, but what if they think it’s weak writing instead?” I luckily have enough...oh, I don’t know the word. Willingness to write into the silent void, I guess, and hope the feedback comes later when it’s finished.

It’s just too much pressure to write chapter-by-chapter and know that people are waiting for updates. You can even still see those comments on the kink meme if you can find the thread--just me apologizing over and over for not updating. No thanks--never again. I’ll finish it first.

--

If there is a future—

It  will be so hard to go back. She knows it will, knows too that the  Tranquility will bind her tighter when she returns herself to it, when  she surrenders to it of her own choice, that it will sink into her heart  the way a vine sinks into a stone's crack to crush it. She can only  trust that she will be found before it roots, and rescued before she  breaks, and that her friends will not abandon her to the unknown masters  awaiting her in Cumberland.

Hawke draws in a breath, slow, and deep, and steps from the water of the lake to the shore.

She chooses Fenris.

Sun-burnt and branded, she chooses to live.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

3, 14, 21 for the fic writer ask game?

I answered 14 and 21 here. Just means you get an extra long answer for 3.

I loved writing a lot of what I threw together this year, but there are two chapters out of everything that always make me smile. Without fail. The Lambskier chapters in Walking with Wolves - Chapter 6 and Chapter 7. 

Lambert’s chaotic energy, his realisation after three stories (140k-ish words) that - actually - he’s in love and he doesn’t want to fuck it up. He works really hard to give Jaskier a good Belleteyn, having watched it from the outside for decades. He spends a whole day agonising over a gift and everything. Here’s an extract:

“Lambert - ?” Hesitant, slightly awed. His cue. The Witcher kicked his boots off again and padded over to wrap his arms around Buttercup’s waist, chin resting on his shoulder, “Explain to me how there are lights in the water.” Everywhere the water was disturbed - the ripples created by the falls, the flutter of fish beneath the surface - a blue glitter shone across the surface. Like someone had snatched the stars from the sky and trapped them in the lake.

“It’s nicknamed sea sparkle. I’ve only ever seen it at the coast and here,” Lambert murmured. “It’s algae. Looked it up when we were at Oxenfurt, actually. Found the scientific name. Noctiluca scintillans. Completely harmless, but it reacts to physical disturbance. Watch.” He released Jaskier reluctantly and approached the edge, fingers of his left hand curling to send an Aard across the surface. The resulting shower of water glimmered with an ethereal blue light that continued outwards across the lake until the kinetic force had dissipated. Disturbed fish darted to and fro in trails of icy blue; a mirror image of the shooting stars that raced across the midnight skies. “I thought you’d li -.”

Lambert didn’t get to finish, because as soon as he turned around, Buttercup was pressed to his chest and kissing him in a way that made everything go weak. His tongue lapped easily into Lambert’s mouth and the Witcher was ready to drop at his feet immediately. But - wait - one more - show him the -. “W - wait, I’ve got - uh,” he managed to push the bard away with a great amount of effort, cupping that handsome face in the curve of his palm, “I did get you a present - I, um - didn’t want it to - come see.” Easier to show Buttercup than to find the words after a kiss like that.

They knelt together on Lambert’s bed roll, and he pushed his packs aside to retrieve the elvish sword stored beneath. He placed it down in front of Buttercup’s knees and they both gazed down at it for a long moment. Maybe he should explain. But Buttercup was already picking it up, his hand curling around the grip as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The steel hissed against the metal of the locket and the blade gleamed in the light of the moon behind them. “It’s - uh, well, I wasn’t sure what to get but,” he cleared his throat, “I didn’t want you to think that I - we - just think you’re a, uh - a pretty face. We think that you’re intelligent, and brave, and I - umm - the dagger you have is pretty shit too, so there’s that, I mean, if you don’t like it, there were other things - but I wasn’t sure if -.”

“I love it.”

“You do?” His voice was definitely the right pitch. Not high at all.

Chapter 7: Summer Lovin’ (Walking with Wolves)