So from the Soft sentence starter, if you feel like it, “Are we really doing this? Are we really slow-dancing?” (if not, it's perfectly fine)
YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND :D
fever pitcheddie/buck, fluff and dancing
Maddie looks beautiful.
Buck doesn’t think she’s stopped smiling all day and he doesn’t blame her. It might be her second wedding but this one is definitely gonna stick, and Buck’s happy for her. She’s currently being whirled around the dance floor by a laughing Jason, and Chim’s getting much the same treatment from Hen.
Sometimes Buck doesn’t know how he got so lucky. His family’s been growing steadily since he moved to LA and he’ll never be sorry for it. His actual parents are around somewhere, probably networking or whatever the fuck it is they’re doing these days, but Buck’s having too good a time to care. The family he’s made for himself, the ones who spend time with him day to day, who come when he calls?
They’re all on the dance floor or seated around the tables, drinking, laughing, and enjoying the company. Buck’s taking five. He knows Maddie’ll drag him onto the dance floor eventually, insistent that they make memories - something she’s done with the pre-wedding arrangements, the ceremony, and the photos thus far. Buck gets it. Her last wedding was a disaster in every way, and Chimney’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her, but something about Buck’s smile feels fixed and he hates it.
He wants his happiness to be genuine, and it is, but it’s hard when your own lack of happiness is so glaringly obvious.
“You being a wallflower?”
Buck raises his eyebrows, gestures at the table bang smack in the middle of four others. “You see a wall?”
Eddie rolls his eyes and drops into the seat next to Buck’s. He looks good - always does if Buck’s being honest with himself, but even more so in his suit. He joked about wearing his dress blues but Chim threatened to ban him from the venue, and Buck’s still silently grateful. He can control himself (barely) when Eddie’s wearing a suit, but having seen Eddie in his dress blues, he’s definitely sure he’d have played hooky.
Okay, no, because he loves his sister, but the point stands.
Eddie + uniform = fuck. Literally.
(Buck wishes).
“You okay?”
Buck looks down at his drink, not sure how to answer. “Christopher having fun?”
“Yes,” Eddie stresses, “But not the question I asked.”
“I’m fine,” Buck says, and the smile is easy - he’s happy for his sister, after all. Sometimes he forgets that Eddie knows him better than he knows himself.
“Buck.” Eddie’s expression is soft when Buck meets his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
So many things, Buck thinks, but doesn’t say it. He shrugs, swirls the drink in his glass and looks back at the dancefloor. Chim’s back with Maddie, and she’s staring at him like he’s the best thing she’s ever seen. “I thought she’d never be happy, you know?”
Eddie’s watching him, Buck can feel the weight of his gaze, but he doesn’t look back.
“After Doug, I wondered what would happen. She was doing well and then fucked things up with that woman. I wanted to help her, but it was bad timing.” Buck makes a face. The last year’s not been kind to the Buckley siblings. “Then she and Chim-”
“You’re happy for her,” Eddie says, and something about his tone sends a shiver down Buck’s spine.
“Yeah, of course.” Buck sighs, tapping a finger against the table.
“Buck,” Eddie says eventually when the silence drags. Buck looks up.
“I’m jealous,” Buck snaps, biting the words out and grateful it’s not one of those embarrassing moments when the music stops. The last thing he wants is for Maddie to know. “She’s happy and I want that for her, I do, but it makes me realize-”
Eddie picks up where he trails off. “That you’re lonely?”
Buck bites back on an affirmative.
“Come on,” Eddie says, abruptly standing.
“What?”
“Up,” Eddie says, and Buck allows himself to be tugged to his feet.
Buck frowns, can see the dance floor over Eddie’s shoulder. There’s a slow song Buck doesn’t recognize playing, and most of the guests have partnered off. The kids are off in a corner, giggling about something, and Buck spots Chris, peering over the crowd to grin. He smiles back, not realizing that he’s on the dancefloor until Eddie’s hand rests on his hip and he’s jerked back to the moment.
“Eddie,” he starts.
“Go with it, Buck,” Eddie says.
There’s little Buck will refuse Eddie and he rolls his eyes but lets Eddie lead. “Are we really doing this? Are we really slow dancing?”
“Shut up, Evan.” The words are softer than the meaning implies, and Buck’s mouth does shut. He stares at Eddie, hyperfocused on the hand on his waist, the other pressed to the back of Buck’s neck. “Just go with it, all right?”
“Eddie,” Buck says, a little hysterically. This is much too close to things he’s dreamed of in the privacy of his own home. “What-”
“I keep waiting for you to catch up,” Eddie says quietly. He strokes his fingers down the nape of Buck’s neck, then up into his hair. It’s soothing, sending pleasurable shivers through Buck’s body. “Thought maybe you weren’t interested until I realized you were just really good at self-sabotage.”
Buck frowns. “What are you talking about?”
Eddie’s smile is warm, and something unclenches in Buck. He swallows as Eddie leans in. “You wanna relax for me?”
There’s a voice whispering in the back of Buck’s head that he should probably find this irritating, but he doesn’t. He tries to do what Eddie’s asked and blows out a slow breath, leaning into Eddie’s touch.
“There you go,” Eddie says quietly, as Buck leans in, rests his forehead on Eddie’s shoulder. There isn’t the hugest difference in height between them, but enough that it could be awkward after a while. Buck doesn’t care, not when Eddie’s hand scratches lightly at his scalp, mouth whispering gently against his ear. “You can’t mess this up, Evan. Not with me.”
Buck’s breath hitches. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
They’re still moving across the dance floor; Buck’s peripherally aware of people around them, of the music crooning over the odd silence in the hall, of Eddie’s body pressed against him. He’s desperately wanted for so long, he’s probably just tired of fighting.
Eddie laughs gently, kissing Buck’s jaw gently. “I’m a sure thing, Buckley. Let yourself be happy.”
Buck pulls back, startled. “Eddie, I-”
“Hey,” Eddie says, and Buck wants to be able to finish a sentence sometime soon, but he waits anyway. Eddie presses a thumb to Buck’s bottom lip, his eyes darkening a little as if he’s contemplating what it would be like to press something else to Buck’s lips. Please, Buck wants to say. “You love me.”
Statement, not question.
Panic blossoms in Buck’s chest but Eddie’s grip tightens and he can’t run, can’t make himself run. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Eddie shakes Buck a little, smiles so wide it’s gotta hurt. “Buck, I love you. How could you not already know that?”
Self-sabotage, Buck thinks, and then oh.
“I’m lonely,” Buck starts, pressing his forehead to Eddie’s. Eddie’s hand moves to his cheek, the other still tight on his hip. “Except when I’m with you and Chris.”
“I know,” Eddie says quietly. “You think it’s not the same for me?”
“I’ll mess it up.” Buck’s throat is so thick the words almost don’t come. “Eddie, I can’t-”
Eddie pauses, waits, but Buck doesn’t know what else to say. “You haven’t so far.”
“It’s different,” Buck says, brow furrowing.
Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Why? You co-parent my kid, you stay over more nights than you don’t, and except for sexual contact,” something so clinical shouldn’t sound so sexy when pitched that low, “we’re more intimate than some of the couples I know.” Eddie presses forward, though Buck doesn’t think there’s much space left. Another slow song follows the first, and Buck isn’t sure if he’s grateful or desperate to run. “All you have to do is jump.”
Buck opens his mouth, closes it. He sways to the music, follows Eddie for a bit, and then lifts his own hand to Eddie’s face. It’s shaking, and he’s afraid this is a dream. Eddie’s real under his hands. Really touching him, really looking at him like that, really saying those words. “You’ll catch me.”
It’s not a question, but Eddie answers him anyway. “Don’t I always?”
From the random prompts, how about (17. “I’m telling you. I’m haunted.” or, or (unless you want to combine them)... from the kisses part, 6. Needing to kiss to hide from bad guys? If you feel inspired, no pressure of course.
It started after their encounter with the witch.
See, Stiles was especially good at two things; being loud and being bait. He didn’t know when the pack had put two and two together and decided that made him good bait but at some point, they had. And Stiles was not impressed.
But this time, instead of trying to kill him, the witch was… friendly. It was as unexpected as it was strange and instead of having to get violent, the pack came out of the trees and they all had a nice conversation.
Or… something.
She’d done something, Stiles was sure of that. Because after they’d convinced her to leave Beacon Hills, she’d taken his hand, smiled like they were sharing an inside joke, and then proceeded to give him the most startling shock of static electricity Stiles had ever experienced.
His hair had nearly fried. He’d smelled like smoke for the rest of the day.
The rest of the pack didn’t think anything was wrong, though. They all waved it off as an accident and even Derek didn’t seem too concerned when Stiles yelled at him about it. Of course.
The point was, Stiles was sure something had gone wrong. He just didn’t know what.
Then he started to hear them. The voices, that is.
It started out small. He’d hear a whisper here and there and spin around, certain someone was talking to him. But Stiles was always alone; or no one was close enough for him to have heard.
It started getting weird when he heard voices in the shower. Voices before he fell asleep. Curses and shouts following him out of the waking world and back into it.
Stiles was pretty sure he was losing his mind.
“I’m telling you,” he shouted, shoving into the loft the very next day. “I’m haunted!”
The betas all looked up from where they were sitting squished together on the couch, the TV playing something bright and loud. Derek sat in his armchair reading and didn’t even glance up from his book. “Sure, Stiles.”
“Don’t ‘sure’ me, you asshole! I’m hearing voices. I’m haunted!”
“Do you see dead people too?” Erica asked, pausing the TV and grinning from ear to ear. Stiles rolled his eyes.
“Haha, very funny, Catwoman. Shut up.”
Boyd growled a little but Stiles ignored the sound, moving across the loft and grabbing Derek’s book, yanking it off his lap. Derek looked up with flashing red eyes and slightly bared teeth. A small shiver ran down Stiles’s spine.
“Listen to me, Sourwolf,” he said, clapping the book shut and dropping it onto the coffee table. “I’m hearing things. Voices. And I swear to god, they’re making me lose my mind. I can’t sleep!”
Derek narrowed his eyes. He seemed to be listening to something; and he was, Stiles realized. His heartbeat. He huffed as Derek’s face cleared a little and the man finally started looking concerned. “What’s wrong with you?”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t be here! Well, I mean, I probably would be here, but that’s not the point—”
“Stiles.”
“I’m hearing things, Derek,” Stiles said softly. “And I don’t know why.”
Derek hesitated, and then nodded. He pushed himself up and gave his betas a quick look. “Call Scott and tell him to meet us at Deaton’s. I want to get this checked out.”
Boyd nodded quietly and Stiles stepped back as Derek started toward the loft door. He glanced at the betas before following, a little relieved and a little surprised. He’d expected it to take more persuading than that.
“The voices,” Derek said as they climbed into the Camaro. “When’d they start?”
“Remember that time I got electrocuted by the witch and none of you believed me when I said she’d done something?”
Derek rolled his eyes at that. It was a little more normal, at least.
“Yeah, well, they’ve been getting louder ever since then,” Stiles said. He picked at the sleeve of his shirt, a lump forming in his throat. “I can’t make out what they’re saying, but it’s getting louder every day.”
Derek was quiet at that. When Stiles glanced back over, the man's brows were drawn together and he looked a little constipated.
They drove the rest of the way in silence. The parking lot was empty when they arrived and Derek got a message that Boyd hadn’t been able to reach Scott. Stiles chuckled weakly at that.
“It’s probably an Allison thing. It’s fine.”
Derek didn’t look so convinced, but Stiles didn’t wait around to hear what he had to say, stumbling out of the car and ducking into the clinic. Deaton was behind the counter working on paperwork and he glanced up with a raised eyebrow as they both entered.
“Boys. Is something the matter?”
Derek rolled his eyes. “Something’s wrong with Stiles.”
Deaton’s eyes flicked over and Stiles grinned weakly. Deaton studied him for a moment and then nodded, pointing them toward the back room. Stiles ducked into it with a nervous chuckle, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“I mean, I don’t what’s wrong exactly,” Stiles said, suddenly feeling a little bit like a crazy person. ‘I’m, uh, hearing things. How possible is demon— or witch— possession?”
Deaton’s eyebrows flew up. “I’m sorry?”
“I feel like I’m going crazy.”
Derek looked sharply away, jaw ticking, and Deaton studied him for a long moment before shaking his head. “I don’t think you’re going crazy, Mr. Stilinski. Might I ask how this happened?”
“A witch. And static electricity.”
Once more, Deaton looked curiously amused. Stiles shrugged.
“Don’t ask.”
“In that case, I would cross out possession,” Deaton said, moving forward and thumbing at his eyelids. Stiles squawked as he lifted one, then the other, and then studied his face. “A spell is most likely. Though I’m not sure what kind would make you hear voices. Did she say anything?”
“Uh, no,” Stiles said. “She just smiled a lot.”
“Curious.”
“Is there anything you can do?” Derek said in a growl, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. Deaton glanced over at the werewolf and then shook his head.
“I’d imagine it’ll fade on its own. It might have been an accident or it might have been the residual of a previous spell. Unless it starts harming him, Stiles should be fine.”
“I’d rather we know what happened before it starts harming him,” Derek said.
“There’s a chance it won’t.”
“Only a chance?”
Deaton gave the werewolf a long, unimpressed look. Derek broke eye contact first, growling and turning away, stalking out of the clinic. Stiles quickly hopped off the metal table and moved to follow. He shot a quick wave over his shoulder.
“Thanks for the help, D! Very elusive, as always!”
“It’s my pleasure.”
Derek was waiting in the Camaro, looking as grumpy as always. Stiles quickly pulled himself into the passenger side seat, shooting the man an exasperated look.
“Very mature, Derek, thank you for that.”
“He wasn’t any help.”
“He was doing something,” Stiles said, not having it. “Now we know I’m neither going crazy nor possessed, so I’d call that a win!”
“But we still don’t know what’s wrong with you,” Derek growled. Stiles flinched and then sighed.
“Sure, yeah, right. Very positive.”
Derek rolled his eyes and started the car. Stiles was surprised when they went right instead of left; heading back toward the loft instead of heading toward his house. Seeing his obvious look, Derek’s ears turned a little red. “You’re staying where someone can keep an eye on you until we figure out what this is.”
“Aw, Sourwolf, it warms my heart when you care.”
“I don’t care.”
“All other facts point to the contrary. Don’t lie to yourself.”
Derek ignored him. But Stiles grinned a little, sitting back in his chair and shifting around until he was comfortable. He was feeling pretty good about himself— other than the voices, that is.
And then everything went downhill.
Stiles heard the gunshot before something outside of the Camaro made a strange noise— like a pop— and then a loud screech filled the air, and they were flying off the side of the road. Stiles yelped and grabbed the arms of his seat, and Derek swore. The Camaro jerked as Derek hit the breaks and then silence fell over the air.
Stiles looked over in confusion; right as the voices crashed over him.
“The Alpha’s been compromised. We’re moving in.”
“Take out the kid too, if needed.”
Stiles’s blood went cold. He didn’t realize he was grabbing Derek’s arm until his fingers were curled deep into his sleeve. “Hunters.”
“What?”
“They’re hunters,” Stiles said, voice hoarse. “That’s what I’m hearing.”
Derek looked confused but then he shoved out the door, moving around and yanking Stiles’s open too. He pulled him out and they started in the opposite direction down the street; right as another gunshot rang through the air.
Stiles started running, Derek right at his side. Stiles had no doubts the werewolf could easily outrun him, but he didn’t. Stiles’s heart was in his throat as they hit the more populated area of town again and Derek started a little slower down the sidewalk.
Derek’s hand suddenly wrapped around Stiles’s arm and the man yanked him into the nearest shop; a clothes shop. Stiles nearly stumbled over his own feet as Derek pulled him down the main aisle and then ducked into a smaller one, ducking his head and glaring at the women’s array of t-shirts.
Stiles blinked a few times. “Seriously, dude?”
“How are you hearing them?”
“How am I supposed to know?” Stiles said, throwing his hands up. Derek grabbed one and yanked it back down and Stiles lowered his other one too. His face burned red. “But they were hunters. And they’re after you.”
“Can you hear them now?”
Stiles turned his head slightly and listened. He could hear what sounded like a whisper. Then more of a murmur. Then, ‘find the wolf and take him out. That’s an order.’ and Stiles felt his face pale.
“They’re getting closer. I can hear them as they move closer.”
“How the hell did the witch know hunters were in town?”
Stiles tried to think back to the conversation they’d had with her, but he didn’t remember a single moment where she’d offered any hint that she might know more than she was letting on. Or that she was planning to help.
If this counted as helping.
Suddenly, the shop door opened again and the bell overhead rung as two burly men stepped inside. Stiles didn’t see any weapons on them but they both wore giant leather jackets, so he had no doubt more was hidden that they couldn’t see. Quickly, he spun around.
“Derek.”
The man was already grabbing a hat and yanking it over Stiles’s head. Stiles made a noise of protest before he saw Derek doing the same and then he couldn’t smother a small snort.
Derek shot him a withering look in return.
The hunters moved in their direction and Stiles followed Derek in the other one. It was only when they found themselves at the end of the aisle and the corner of the store that panic started to rise in his throat again.
The hunters wouldn’t try anything here, would they? Though Derek couldn’t fight back if they did; not without giving himself up.
He glanced nervously over his shoulder. One of the hunters held a blade in his hand, half-concealed by his sleeve. Stiles’s heart leaped into his throat.
“Derek, dude, they have knives—”
“Shut up and look at me.”
Stiles spun around and before he could even react, Derek was grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pressing him against the wall. It was so familiar to years ago, Stiles nearly squeaked in protest. But then, instead of getting in his face, the man was moving closer than that.
And then he was kissing him. Derek was kissing him.
Stiles made a strange noise at the back of his throat and pulled at Derek’s shirt. He wasn't sure if he was trying to get a better grip on the situation or attempting to pull the man closer, but his head wasn’t exactly working right.
He totally hadn’t imagined this before but if he had, he’d always thought Derek would taste like mint or cinnamon or something. He hadn’t expected the sharp feeling of Derek’s stubble brushing against his skin or the smell of him— pine and aftershave— to crash over Stiles like a wave of cold water.
But he didn’t… mind it. Derek’s lips were against his, his hands were curled in the front of Stiles shirt, and he was growling lowly at the back of his throat. The vibrations sent shivers down Stiles’s spine.
‘They’re not in here,’ a voice said. ‘Keep moving.’
“D-Derek,” Stiles said, fighting the urge to card his hand through the man’s hair. “Derek, they’re gone, they’re gone.”
And abruptly, Derek drew back.
His eyes were a little glazed, his face was red, and Stiles was pretty sure he looked the same. He couldn’t help the way his stomach sank at the sudden loss of contact. Or the way he felt a little sick at how quickly Derek had yanked away, as if he was grossed out by the very action of having to kiss Stiles.
“Uh, I, uh—”
“Sorry,” Derek said, dropping his eyes. “I thought that’d divert them.”
“Oh,” Stiles said, a knot forming in his throat. “Yeah, right.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“Sure.”
For a moment, they both went quiet. Stiles shuffled his feet and felt a little bit like he could scream; which was stupid. But seeing Derek’s face and the obvious discomfort in his eyes, suddenly all Stiles wanted was to be very far away.
Say something, he thought raggedly. Don’t freak out, just say something.
“You kiss nice.”
Derek’s eyes widened and Stiles flinched. Not that! “What?”
“Nothing, nevermind. I didn’t say anything.”
“Stiles—”
“Nope,” Stiles said, trying to duck around him. “Come on, Sourwolf, we have to go warn the rest of the pack. I don’t know how much longer this witch-y hearing thing will last but if the hunters are after you, then they’re probably after the rest of the pack and—”
“Stiles.”
Stiles wilted and glanced back over. “Don’t say it, Derek.”
“Don’t say what?”
“Don’t say it was an accident. Or a mistake. Don’t say you didn’t mean to.”
Derek just stared at him. Stiles reached up to run a hand through his hair and realized he was still wearing the stupid hat Derek had put on his head. Chuckling humorlessly, he yanked it off and set it on the nearest shelf.
“It was for the hunters,” he said quietly, each word feeling like a punch to the stomach. “I get it, sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”
Derek just looked confused. Stiles started to turn away again when a hand suddenly caught his wrist and Derek pulled him back around. Stiles couldn’t quite meet his eyes, sure he was about to hear something he really didn’t want.
“Derek—”
And then the man was kissing him again.
To say that was the last thing Stiles expected would be an understatement. He squeaked and then Derek was cupping the back of his neck, pulling him closer.
Stiles reached up blindly and yanked off the other hat on Derek’s head, throwing it somewhere to the side. Carding a hand through the man’s hair, he melted into his touch and whined softly at the back of his throat.
That made Derek growl again.
And then someone cleared their throat.
The kiss was over much too quickly but Stiles couldn’t help a startled noise leaving his mouth as he stumbled back, Derek yanking away too. One of the cashiers stood a few feet away looking both tired and done™ as she glanced between them.
“I’m sorry, sirs, but unless you’re planning on buying something, I’ll have to ask that you leave.”
Stiles nodded silently as she turned away. Then, the moment she was gone, Stiles glanced back at Derek who was looking utterly terrified. And unable to stop himself, he burst into laughter, nearly dropping to the floor from the full force of it.
“Oh my god, dude, you should see your face. Can I take a picture? I’m going to take a picture.”
“Stiles,” Derek growled. When Stiles glanced up, his face was still red and the man didn’t hold his gaze, dropping his eyes to the floor. “Sorry.”
“Sor— sorry? Oh, hell no, Sourwolf, you’re not allowed to do that. We are kissing again. Very soon. Like, after this current threat is taken care of, very soon.”
Derek looked at him in confusion. Stiles rolled his eyes and leaned forward, brushing his lips against the man’s ear.
“You kiss nice, Sourwolf.”
And Derek’s hand shot out like he was going to catch Stiles by the neck and drag him into another kiss again. But Stiles squeaked and dodged out of the way, his back bumping against the wall.
“We can’t stay unless we buy something. Didn’t you hear the rules?”
Derek moved closer, eyes dark. Reaching over, he grabbed the hat Stiles had placed on the shelf earlier and tugged it back over Stiles’ head. “We’re buying a hat.”
Stiles didn’t even have a chance to protest before the man was kissing him again.
- -
So, this got kind of away from me. Like, over 3k words of fluff away from me. But I had fun! I just had to do both prompts, I couldn’t resist ;) Thanks for the prompt, my friend!
(if you enjoy my writing, consider supporting your underpaid student writer? Seriously, I’d adore you guys so much). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer
I do!!! I signed up in April, a few weeks into the stay-at-home orders, and was matched with my first fosters in May! My work will be WFH likely until next spring/summer, so it seemed a perfect time to start <3
My first fosters were Cavi and Peppa, two orphan singletons of the same age. I was able to unite them after a couple weeks of quarantine and they were so bonded, it was absolutely adorable. Luckily, I was able to adopt them together 🥰
After a month off for some travel and recoup, I was paired with a very young, pregnant mamma kitty. She actually gave birth to her babies about 2-3 hours before I arrived to pick her up, so while I didn’t get to be there for the birth, I did get the babies on day 1 :D I posted about their first day here.
I kept most of my foster stuff on my foster insta, @chasingkittehs, which I can promise is a huge pick-me-up if you need a smile.
It's one of the best decisions I've ever made. I cannot describe in words how much joy all those babies brought me. I have my own two adult cats and they bring me a lot of happiness and sanity, but having these little babies running around my living room and begging for my attention and snuggling with me was just... It was a mental health savior in the light of all the chaos in the world and in my country (US).
Everyone has been adopted into really wonderful forever homes (even Mamma Maddie!) and my apartment is currently foster-free for a couple months while I dive into some more travel, but I recommend it to anyone that has a little extra time and a lot of space for love in their hearts 💕(cheesy, I know). Hopefully I'll have some more babies to welcome in February 🥰
Hi! I just wanted to say thank you, for reblogging my countdown to season 4 edits; I did them mostly for myself and was not expecting any feedback or anything but it felt really nice to get some likes after your reblogs. Wishing you a nice season 4 return ♥
Thank you, this was a very sweet message. Nothing makes me happier than helping creators get more eyes on their work. And I loved your series and I’m excited to see what comes next!
Okay I know about a lot of those fics already except "Amnesic Eddie", I don't think so at least? So now I'm intrigued...
Heeeeey! Sooo Amnesic Eddie is something I started with @peroquenotevean a while ago. I can't promise that it'll ever be finished but even if it never becomes a thing, I loved working on this with her and it's still in my wips so I figured it should go on that list!
Here's a small snip:
The news hits Buck hard and unexpected, knocking the air out of his lungs. He’ll always remember the phone call he gets that day. He knows he’ll never be able to forget the way his heart drops in fear when Isabel tells him that something happened to Eddie, her voice trembling. The panic, the worry, the dread… It feels like they’re never going to leave him, engraved in his head and heart for the rest of his life.
If you haven't answered yet, for the fanfic end of the year asks: 15. something you learned this year. And if you have, what's one question you haven't been asked yet that you're dying to answer?
Hey there! Thanks for the ask! 💜
Something important that I learned is to take time for myself. For a while, I was pushing myself and feeling guilty when I didn't write. Which took a lot of the joy out of it because it felt more like an obligation than anything else. So I've learned to take breaks, and that it's okay to have days when I don't feel like writing.
For the autumnal asks, 26. do you decorate for autumn? what is it like?, and, 27. vampires or witches?
26. I do not decorate, like .. ever basically. I am terrible with aesthetics band organizing stuff and making it look good, I don't have the eye for such stuff. The only thing I've done in the past is smack posters onto the walls in any way they fit physically - EXCEPT for Halloween. I will decorate the shiy out of a place for Halloween, bc I'm all about the dark and creepy shit. I LOVE hanging up spiderwebs and spiders and bats and making things DARK and SCARY. I'm not saying I'm good at that either but I will put in the effort there
27. Vampires or witches?
Oh well now we're in a pickle. Bc growing up I was all about MONSTERS and witches were never monsters to me, and still aren't- they're just badass women from the past who got fucked by the patriarchy. And you know I'm on their side over any pale-ass, blood-sucking, glorified male.
On the other hand, I've been obsessed with the monsters and that includes the original Dracula since I was in like second grade??? Gimme the evil, bat and wolf shifting monster, whom humans cannot kill, not deceive. Miss me with any and all modern vampire interpretations (...with exception of Hotel Transylvania! And also What We Do In The Shadows bc of my sister)
So like... If we're talking about the IDEA/CONCEPT/NOTION I'm on vampire side, but if we're talking anything else, I'm voting for the witches!
