silverintheblood

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Books everyone should read → THE TAROT SEQUENCE

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I'm gonna need some fanart for #silverundernightfall by Rin Chupeco pretty please STAT

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Gabriel being Gabriel

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stiches

Chris was conscious by the time Melissa was ready to stitch the cuts.  She'd almost called an ambulance -- the three deep gouges across Chris' stomach screamed hospital -- but Chris had come here, had come to her, and there were a dozen reasons why he might be wary of Beacon Hills Memorial.

"How bad?" His voice as barely more than a whisper. His eyes followed the deft movements of her hands.

"Bad enough," she told him, the pulling the needle up to finish another stitch. "You should be in a hospital."

"She'd look there," Chris said. His voice had strengthened. "She won’t guess...she wouldn’t think I’d come here."  

She could have asked who’s she? Should have, perhaps. But she couldn’t shake the certainty that Chris wouldn’t have asked for her help if it would have put him in danger.

It would almost have been reassuring if he'd flinched or winced as she stitched up the gashes -- instead he lay perfectly still, his chest rising and falling.  

She realised they were breathing in time.  

"There," she said, tying off the last stitch and reaching for the gauze. "You're going to have to stay still for a couple of days."

Chris' exhalation was the closest she'd ever heard him come to laughter.

"You're not going to help anyone if you're dead," she told him, in a voice she'd used more than once on recalcitrant patients.

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My Space Mom™

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The notes are broken. This is what tumblr is all about apparently.

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the moon howls

Three years ago Melissa would have missed the knock at the door. As she padded down the stairs she wondered if she'd dreamt it.  It wouldn't have been the first time she'd gone to the door or the window, only half-awake, called out of bed by a feeling, an unease, an unknowing of some kind.

Being the mother of a teenage werewolf had a way of honing both the senses and the nerves simultaneously.

The movement of trees outside sent shadows skittering in front of her bare feet.  She didn’t bother turning the light on. Her feet knew the stairs. The house was silent, the cold light of the full moon touching the furniture with greedy fingers.

Sometimes it felt like a house made of absences – Rafael, Isaac, the stillness of the air when she arrived home at 4am, fumbling with her keys, and knew, somehow, that Scott wasn’t in his bed. Can you make a home out of a battlefield, a way-station, a military encampment? She sighed, running fingers through her loose hair as though she could shake out the shadows.

She opened the door, half-expecting the porch to be empty.

Chris Argent was leaning against the doorjamb. His bare arms and hands were soaked with blood turned black by the darkness.  He was wet to the skin and covered in mud, one hand pressed to his stomach and the other wrapped around the handle of a knife . "I'm sorry," he managed, between gritted teeth, "I didn't..."

He crumpled at her feet.  

Notes and disclaimer: title from a George Marlin quote. I liked it. Also these aren’t mine, obviously, I just like playing with them.

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Save the Rebellion, save the dream!

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Time Jumps

So, I just vanished into the ether. I didn’t intend to, but I got caught up in all sorts of things and just slowly drifted away from Tumblr and fic and writing more generally. First, I wanted to apologise to anyone who was waiting on a sequel or new chapters in any of my fics -- the daily AO3 kudos or comment notifications still made me inordinately happy even when I wasn’t writing or replying or checking my account.

Second, I missed fandom. I really did. Not always consciously, but I missed the sense of community and the enthusiasm and the love. I don’t want to not have that in my life. 

Third, I’m planning to dip my toe back into the water and try and get back into a routine with some drabble a day action. Also, let’s be real, the TW mid-season finale filled me with the need to write about a certain grizzled werewolf hunter and a certain badass single mother. And a snarky, sexy werewolf with antagonism problems. You know who I’m talking about. 

And also OMG so many Barduil stories I want to write after a Hobbit rewatch. So many. All the stories, all the time. 

So to anyone who’s ever liked my writing, wish me luck. :) I’m probably going to need it. 

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(insp.)

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Eyes on the Road - Peter/Stiles

“You’re quieter than you used to be,” Peter says.

“Maybe I just don’t like you.”

Or: Stiles is tasked with covertly ferrying a certain werewolf across the country. Things don't go as planned. Or at least, not as Stiles planned.

Eyes on the Road

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Stiles destroys me. Just saying. I'm so sad. WHY ARE YOU SUCH A GOOD ACTOR, DYLAN?

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Tant Bien Que Mal

Two fics in one day! What is this even? 

Isaac’s life in Paris gets a bit interesting.

Chris arrives on Isaac’s doorstep at 3am with two bullet holes in his torso and a dirty, disheveled Peter Hale holding him upright.

Tant Bien Que Mal.

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God bless the daylight, the sugary smell of springtime Remembering when you were mine In a still suburban town

When every thursday I’d brave those mountain passes And you’d skip your early classes And we’d learn how our bodies worked.

God damn the black night with all it’s foul temptation I become what I always hated When I was with you then

We looked like giants in the back of my grey subcompact Fumbling to make contact As the others slept inside

And together there In a shroud of frost, the mountain air Began to pass from every pane of weathered glass And I held you closer than anyone would ever get.

We Looked Like Giants - Death Cub For Cutie For the lovely crusingthroughreality ♥ 

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Ash and Bones: Chapter 2

Lovelies,  It has been so, *so* long since I posted, I know. It’s been a crazy year (end of a long term relationship, death in the family, friend with a serious illness, crazy work times, all that jazz). So I dropped off the face of Tumblr a bit, after a very active couple of months in Jan/Feb. 

I hope (hope) I’ll have a bit more writing time now. But I’ve been playing around with this one for months, so I’ve posted it. Warnings on the fic itself, but basically can be summer up thus: blood and sex, ye have been warmed. 

Adrian Harris was not a particularly brave man. Peter almost regretted that -- it would have been somewhat more satisfying if Harris had been a little more resilient. He stepped back from the alchemist  and pulled his handkerchief out, wiping his fingers clean. "Are you a student of psychology, Mr Harris?"

Chapter Two: Blood and Fire

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Petopher AU - Chris spots Peter during Lacrosse game; what he doesn't  know is that Peter is a werewolf with a supernatural hearing.