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snarkwrites · 4 years

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-- about my writing --

I’m currently taking requests / asks for headcanons [ can be either NSFW or just in general or a specific idea ] or fluff/filth Alphabet letters. These are the only requests I plan on taking. If you send me prompts / one shot ideas.. I won’t do them, sorry.

To see what the questions are for the fluff / filth alphabet, see [this post]

[ To my thots anon whomst I love with every cell in my body... Your thots are all going to fall under NSFW headcanons so please.. By all means.. Feel free to send me all the thots you want because I really really really really really enjoy writing them!!! Also, you can find the thots you’ve sent me on my nsfw masterlist, they’re not going anywhere. They were so good I had to add them to a masterlist somehow, I couldn’t resist. At everyone else out there, the same applies to you guys.]

So.. Here’s the thing.. I’ve decided that I’m going to be taking 3 kinds of requests. Those are as follows: Headcanons { filthy, fluffy or themed specifically at your choosing }, fluffy alphabet and filthy alphabet letters. These are the only kinds of request I answer so don’t send me prompts / one shot requests or ideas unless I specifically say otherwise.

Bearing the above in mind, I have some guidelines.

I’m only accepting headcanons (nsfw / fluff / specific theme &/or reader), fluffy or filthy alphabet letters. If you send me one shot ideas or prompts, I’m going to delete them because I don’t do one-shots.

One character per ask. I don’t care how many asks you send. But I ask that you only send one character per ask because that makes things a lot more simple for me.

You can send up to 4 letters in each ask if you’re asking for either version of the alphabet. Be sure to let me know whether you want filth or fluff or a mix of both. IE, you could send me something like this; character name - a, b {filth} & j v {fluff}. I’m not saying your ask has to look exactly like this but it does need to clearly state which version you’re asking for. The format I just did above was just the easiest way that came to mind for me.

The more precise you are with the headcanon requests you send, the better I can tailor them to you. If you just want an overall NSFW headcanon or overall fluff, that’s totally fine. But if you want a specific scenario ( friends to lovers, date night, weddings, the sky is the limit here) you need to tell me that. The same goes for if you want a specific reader (POC, plus size, sick, shy, virgin, imprint, etc) then I need to know that. It’s like I said.. The more specifics you give me, that’s more I have to work from.

As far as headcanons go, the things I won’t write are rape, incest / huge age gaps between reader / character. I’ll only write abuse if someone is getting their just desserts at the hands of character on readers behalf. Any asks containing rape / incest / huge age gaps are going to be deleted.

All asks must come to my inbox. I don’t take requests through DM or in comments on a post. If it helps, my anon is on, so you can request to your hearts content.

If the ask box is closed, this means I’m currently not taking headcanon or fluff/filth alphabet requests. This will also be noted on my blog bio and possibly a post stating why/for how long. Anything sent in after the ask box is closed will either be gotten to the next go around or it’ll be deleted, depending on the situation.

First of all... My content is meant strictly for adults. I do write some things that people underage can safely read, but that is not always the case. I realize that I can’t stop minors from reading my work, but I can tell you outright that I’d rather you skip over it if you’re underage and it clearly states that it’s not written for anyone underage. Again.. I can’t do anything to stop minors from reading my NSFW content beyond just choosing never to post writing on the internet. And I don’t plan on stopping, so.. yeah.

I put warnings on everything. Reading those will definitely save you time and upset. If you keep reading something I’ve written and it upsets you in any way, I’m sorry but I can’t help. I warned you. You chose to take the risk -and most likely, you chose to skip the warning I gave before the post even started... It’s strictly on you now. It’s out of my hands. Any complaints or things of that nature are gonna be laughed at and deleted out of my inbox because I’m not here to argue or censor myself. I’m not your parents, just a peer. If you as a minor choose to look at me, an adult adjacent person, as an authority figure of any sort... First of all, why? Ya’ll.. no.. please don’t. I’m a hot mess, okay? To look at me like any trust worthy authority figure is... A huge error on your own part. Secondly, please don’t. I’m here to enjoy my favorite fandoms / post content for them. I’m not here to please people / censor myself and my content to make everyone else happy... Let me repeat. I put warnings on everything I post. If you keep reading and you read something you’re not supposed to this is now solely your own problem. Sorry, I guess?

I’ve seen other adults saying that they block minors on here. While I’m not gonna do that.. I will not tag minors in my NSFW content knowingly. If I find out you’re a minor and I’m posting something NSFW for a fandom you’ve asked to be tagged in, I will not be tagging you. Sorry. As much as I say I’m not here to parent you and I’m just your peer and you need to think of me like that instead, I’m also not willing to risk anything, either. I’m truly sorry in advance.

While I’m talking about tagging people / my taglist...If you want me to tag you in my writing, you need to be on my taglist. The taglist can be found [ here ] or you can dm / send an ask telling me you want to be added and I will be more than happy to do so. Don’t be afraid to ask me. I don’t mind at all!

Every now and then, I’ll tag my friends in things I write. If I tag you in something and you don’t want me to, let me know. I won’t do it anymore. I’m not here to overwhelm or annoy anyone and I don’t want to come off as pushy, either. SO.. if you’re getting tagged or whatever and you want me to stop tagging you, all you have to do is let me know.

If you’re not on my tag list (or I don’t know you well enough to know whether you’d potentially want to read something) I will not be tagging you. If you’re a minor and I know for sure/think you are and it’s smut, I will definitely not be tagging you.

Content I’m not willing to write or you probably won’t find here: Incest and Rape. Those are my hard no’s. Just the thought of writing something like that makes me feel gross. I’m also not going to be writing huge age gaps in romantic stories either. (the closest I’ll come is like.. 18/19 and up to 24...) I mean absolutely no offense against people who can and do write things like this, I just can’t?

American Horror Story; tate langdon, ben harmon, kit walker, kyle, dandy mott, jimmy darling, james patrick march, michael langdon, xavier plympton and night stalker.

Arrowverse; oliver queen, john diggle, slade wilson/deathstsroke, barry allen, cisco ramon, ray palmer, mick rory.

Bands / Celebrities; ask before sending because I haven’t done many of these and I’m still adjusting… Off the top of my head I’ve written for / feel comfortable with Nick Groff (ghost adventures), Jon Bernthal.. There are lots of others but alas, I’d stretch this out so badly if I added too many more names.

Boondock Saints movie; Connor Macmanus Murphy Macmanus & Rocco.

Breakfast Club movie; John Bender.

Castle Rock tv series; Dennis Zalewski, The Kid.

Criminal Minds; Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Hotch, Tobias Hankel & Adam/Amanda.

Crybaby Movie; wade walker.

CSI tv series; Greg Sanders, Nick Stokes, Warrick Brown, Gil Grissom, Tim Speedle, Ryan Wolfe, Eric Delko, Danny Messer, Don Flack, Mack Taylor.

Dazed & Confused movie; Randal Pink Floyd, Mike Newhouse, Ron Slater, Fred O’Bannion and Kevin Pickford.

DC Cinematic; Digger Harkness.

Detroit Rock City movie; Tripp, Lex, Hawk and Jam.

Fast & The Furious series; Dom Toretto, Han.

Four Brothers movie; Angel, Jack or Bobby Mercer

Friday Night Lights tv series; Tim Riggins, ,Matt Saracen, Landry Clarke, Bobby Riggins, Vince.

General Hospital tv series; Sonny Corinthos, Jason Morgan, Johnny Zacarra, Dante Falconeri, several other of the guys on here…

Ghostbusters 80′s version movie; Ray Stantz, Egon Spengler , Peter Venkman, Winston Zeddemore.

Gotham tv series; Jerome Valeska, Jim Gordon, Joker, Riddler.

Harry Potter movies; Sirius Black, Severus Snape, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Neville Longbottom.

Horror movies various; Billy Loomis/Scream, Charlie Walker/Scre4m, Wade/ House of Wax, Tom Hanninger/My Bloody Valentine + others. Trust me, there are... So many others. I just didn’t have the brain power to think of them all at the moment.

Law & Order tv series; Barba, Carisi, Stabler.

Lucifer tv series; Lucifer Morningstar.

Luke Cage; Luke Cage, Shades Alvarez.

Marvel Cinematic; Bruce Banner/hulk, Captain america/steve rogers, bucky barnes/winter soldier, eric killmonger, hawkeye/clintbarton, thor, loki, pietro maximoff, venom/eddie brock, starlord/peter quill, ironman/tony stark, wolverine.. I’m a marvel ho.

Mayans MC tv series; Angel Reyes and Ez Reyes.

NCIS tv series; Anthony Dinozzo, Timothy McGee, Marty Deeks, Greg Callen.

On My Block tv series; Spooky Diaz.

Punisher tv series; Billy Russo, Frank Castle.

Riverdale tv series; Jughead Jones, FP Jones, Reggie Mantle, Sweetpea, Archie Andrews.

Shameless tv series; Lip Gallagher.

Sons of Anarchy tv series; Jax Teller, Chibs Telford, Clay Morrow, Juice Ortiz, Opie Winston.

Stranger Things tv series; Jonathan Byers, Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, Jim Hopper.

Star Wars movie series; Han Solo, Kylo Ren, Ben Solo, Poe Dameron, Finn.

Supernatural tv series; Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Crowley, Benny Lafitte, Kevin Tran.

Teen Wolf tv series; Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Derek Hale.

The Crow movie series; Eric Draven and Jimmy Quervo/Wicked Prayer.

The Lost Boys movie series; Edgar Frog, Allen Frog, David, Michael Emmerson, Sam Emmerson.

The Outsiders book/movie; Two Bit Matthews, Dally Winston, Darry Curtis, Soda Pop Curtis, Johnny Cade, Steve Randle.

The Walking Dead tv series; Daryl Dixon, Shane walsh, Rick Grimes, Negan, Glenn Rhee.

The Vampire Diaries tv series; Klaus Mikaelson, Kai Parker, Kol Mikaelson, Jeremy Gilbert, Damon Salvatore.

Twelve Rounds 3 movie; Detective John Shaw.

Twilight movies/books; Jasper Hale, Emmett Cullen, Jacob Black, Paul Lahote, Embry Call.

I’m gonna be honest here. I post on my own time, at my own pace. Some days I post constantly, sometimes it’s days or even weeks, and occasionally, a month before I post anything. So.. Now ya know.

If I’m not on and posting, odds are I’m busy, taking a break or whatever. But I’ll come back! I always do.

Basically, what I’m saying here is I have no set posting schedule. At all. I post what I want when I’m in the mood to do so. Just something to keep in mind when you’re asking for headcanons / nsfw alphabet letters with characters.

#about the writer #psa #multifandom writer #multifandom about page

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quentinsquill · 6 years

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Fic: “Precious Things” (The Magicians

Precious Things

Author: Lexalicious70

Fandom: The Magicians

Pairing: Queliot

Rating: 18+ for violence/blood

Word Count: 3,276

Spoilers: Episode-related for “The Strangled Heart.”

Summary: AU remix of “The Strangled Heart:” After an unexpected attack, Quentin must find Eliot’s most precious possession before the Virgo Blade claims Eliot’s life.

Notes: This has been rolling around in my head for some time, but it wasn’t until two nights ago that I finally realized what Eliot’s most precious possession would be. Comments and kudos are magic, and as always, thanks for reading!

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16108973

Precious Things

By Lexalicious70

“I seem to have gotten turned around. Do you know the way back to the cottage from here?”

Quentin and Eliot turned. Mike was walking into the clearing, smiling, one hand tucked behind his back. Eliot frowned at the odd posture, but then Quentin was walking toward him, helpful as always, pointing over Mike’s shoulder.

“Sure, it’s right back that—”

Mike’s hidden hand snaked around and into the air as Quentin spoke, and Eliot’s eyes widened as he saw the glint of a large dagger in his lover’s hand. Quentin saw the movement as well and tucked his body inward, away from the blade, as Eliot took three striding steps forward, his long legs eating up the distance between them, and gave Mike a rough telekinetic shove that sent him flying backward. Eliot raised his hands to cast, but Mike recovered much quicker than should have been possible and lunged for Quentin again. Eliot leaped forward and tackled Mike to the ground, wrapping his long arms and legs around him and pummeling his shoulders hard, keeping his hands trapped between them. They rolled over and over across the leaf-strewn clearing, and Quentin ran toward them.

“Eliot!”

“Run!” Eliot managed to shout at Quentin, and then Mike’s knee jerked up sharply, catching Eliot in the stomach. He gasped, letting Mike go as he lost half his air, and then a sizzling arrow of pain punched itself deep into his abdomen, just below his belly button, followed by a hot rush of his own blood as Mike yanked the dagger’s blade out again. He put a hand to it, feeling it seep through the orchid shirt he was wearing. Mike raised the blade as Eliot fell onto his back but then he was flying backwards, propelled by the battle magic Quentin had fired off. He struck a tree, the blade flying from his hand, and crumpled at the trunk, unmoving. Quentin fell to his hands and knees next to Eliot a moment later, and Eliot looked up at him.

“I told you to run!” he said, finding it hard to catch his breath.

“But it’s Mike, why would he . . .” His dark eyes widened as he saw the blood spreading along the fabric of Eliot’s shirt and vest. Eliot followed his gaze.

“That’s going to stain.” He said softly, and Quentin bit his lower lip.

“Oh shit . . .” He said as he pulled off his own sweater before unbuttoning Eliot’s vest and pulling his shirttail from his trousers. Under any other circumstance, Eliot would have been excited about Quentin undressing him, but the tugging caused bright flares of pain that extended upward into his abdomen and down into his lower belly. He gasped, and Quentin winced.

“I’m sorry, El!” He pressed his sweater to the wound, which was a vertical slit in his flesh about two inches long. It spat out blood with every beat of Eliot’s heart and Quentin looked around the clearing.

“Help! Someone please, help us!” He watched the shirt turn red. “Oh God . . . Eliot? El? Hey!” Quentin patted his cheek with his free hand. “Don’t close your eyes, okay? Just—just stay here with me, don’t—” He rested his hand on Eliot’s cheek as Eliot stared up at him. Penny, Margo, and Alice ran into the clearing a moment later, and they stood over Eliot, their heads looking like untethered balloons to him. Snatches of conversation reached him as he wavered in and out of a haze ringed with a halo of pain.

“Mike, but—”

“Get to the infirmary—”

“—move him? All the blood . . .”

Eliot’s consciousness tuned out slowly, like a song being played inside a car that was rapidly pulling away from the curb. He was vaguely aware that he was being lifted, and Quentin’s face loomed over him one more time, his lips forming the same words over and over.

Hold on. Hold on.

Darkness came for him, and it stayed for a bit.

“It’s a very strange wound. I’ve never seen anything like it, really.”

Quentin stood listening to the infirmary assistant talking to Professor Sunderland and Dean Fogg. Two other healing students fussed around down by the wound as Eliot lay half-conscious. He’d passed out on the way there and was only now coming back around, flinching and gasping as they tended the wound. They’d crowded Quentin away from the bed and now he stood nearly in the corner, his hands stuffed up under his arms.

“We found this in Mike’s hand.” Penny handed the blade over to Sunderland. She held it up to the light, angling the blade upward, and Quentin stepped forward.

“Wait. I’ve seen that before. I know I have!” He flipped open his Sharo bag and pulled out a copy of The World in the Walls, the first book in the Fillory and Further series, and flipped quickly through the pages before finding an illustration. “Look!” He held up the drawing of the dagger for everyone to see. “It’s called the Virgo blade. Jane was attacked with it and it caused all these roots and vines to grow under her skin, where they would eventually reach her heart, so, uhm—to heal her, they had to offer up her greatest treasure—the doll her mom had given her.”

“So, we make a doll of Eliot, kind of like a voodoo deal, and offer it up?” Margo asked, glancing over her shoulder as Eliot made a low, weak sound of pain. Quentin shook his head.

“No, I don’t think that would work, because, uh—look here—” He pointed at a passage on the page, below the drawing of the blade. “It says here that it wasn’t so much the doll looking like her that caused the spell to accept it but because her mother had given it to her in happier times. It was the one thing important enough to carry with her into Fillory.” Quentin glanced over at Eliot. “Which means we need to find Eliot’s most precious possession before the vines strangle the life out of him. Margo . . .” He snapped the book shut. “You must know what it is! You’re Eliot’s best friend, what would he say was his most important possession?”

Margo put her hands on her hips.

“This isn’t The Newlywed Game, Quentin!”

“But you have to know!”

“Eliot is my best friend, yes. But you know what he’s not? Forthcoming about his emotions, his family, or his past! I know you’re imagining us having all these heartfelt conversations at three in the morning, but honestly? The person who Eliot was before Brakebills is buried deep.”

“Shit.” Quentin crammed the book bag into his bag and swung around to the bed again. He pushed his way between a few of the healers, both of which glared at him. Quentin ignored them and reached down to pat Eliot’s cheek.

“Eliot? Hey! El! It’s Quentin, look at me!”

“Uhnnh?” Eliot blinked up at Quentin, who noticed that his corneas were starting to turn yellowish-grey. His stomach gave an unpleasant lurch but he cupped Eliot’s face with both hands. “Eliot! Listen, you’ve been stabbed with an enchanted blade, and the only thing that can stop its curse is your most precious possession. What is it?”

“My . . . ?” Eliot managed to say before his long frame shuddered. One of the healers pointed.

“Professor, look, it’s spreading more rapidly now.”

Professor Sunderland pulled down the sheet that covered Eliot from his mid-chest to his groin and gave a gasp of surprise mixed with disgust. The roots and vines were tunneling under Eliot’s skin and breaking through here and there. Quentin glanced down and then away, his stomach giving a more serious clench.

“El, come on! Talk to me! What’s your most important possession?”

Eliot stared up at him a moment more before his eyes went blank and he lost consciousness again. Quentin turned away, shoving his hands into his hair.

“Shit!” He snapped softly, and Margo put a hand on his arm.

“We need to get back to the cottage, go through El’s things. He won’t like it, but that’s tough titty. Come on.” She tugged on Quentin’s arm until he followed, although he gave Eliot one more glance as they left the room and out a side door that would take them across the Sea and back toward the cottage. Quentin had to jog to keep up with Margo despite the fact he was nearly four inches taller.

“How are we going to find his most important possession if we don’t know what’s important to him?” He puffed. Margo kept striding along, her expression set.

“We’ll have to fake it.”

“We can’t just fake it! If we’re wrong then Eliot’s dead! I don’t know if the Virgo blade they found on Mike is the exact one from Fillory, but if it is, then we don’t have a lot of time!”

They reached the cottage and Margo slammed the front door open. The common area was mostly empty and Margo’s heels rang on the steps as she climbed them without pausing. Quentin followed, unslinging his shoulder bag as they reached Eliot’s room. Margo undid Eliot’s wards and pushed the door open.

“If El does survive, he’s gonna be so pissed about this,” she sighed as she turned on the lights.

Quentin set his messenger bag down as he glanced around the room. He’d been in it many times, from helping Eliot to bed if he’d drank too much at a party or just laying on the floor or bed while he and Margo shared their pot and edibles and wine with him. While the room didn’t have the spartan feel of Penny’s or the strong female vibe of Alice’s, it was drenched with Eliot’s scent and aesthetic. It felt haunted. A chill chased up Quentin’s spine like someone had dragged an ice chip along his bare skin. Margo began opening dresser drawers and pawing through them.

“Check the closet,” She said as she pulled out scarves, socks, silk boxers, and folded pocket squares. Quentin went to the closet and tugged the doors open. The illusion made Quentin blink—like Snoopy’s doghouse and the TARDIS, the space was much bigger inside than out. He groped for a light switch, found one, and illuminated four racks of clothing, two shoe racks, (both full,) A few hat boxes, and storage containers stacked up at both side of the space.

“Do you think it might be an article of clothing?” He called out to Margo, who was now emptying another drawer. “You know, like his favorite pair of shoes?”

“The Prada slip-on is a classic, but I doubt that’s going to be a cure!”

“So it probably wouldn’t be a shoe . . .” Quentin turned in a slow circle. “Choose wisely.” He spied a metallic box with a steel clip closure and picked it up. Something rolled around inside and he went to the closet door. “Margo, what’s in here?” He asked, and Margo paused in her own rooting around to glance over her shoulder. She pressed her lips together and rolled her eyes.

“That’s Eliot’s vibrator collection!”

“Oh God, uhm—” Quentin tucked the box back where he’d found it and shoved aside rows of silk, wool, and cotton. Most of them smelled like the cologne Eliot favored. It smelled like cedar after a rainstorm, paired with a sandalwood undertone. Quentin fought the urge to bury his face in Eliot’s cranberry blazer and glanced up. There were three different shelf levels, and the highest was at least five feet over Quentin’s head. He murmured a spell and pointed his fingers downward as he spread them wide. It allowed him to levitate and float until he was about an inch above eye level with the highest shelf. There wasn’t much to see: a few errant cobwebs, a leather cabbie cap that Eliot must have retired, a shoebox full of odds and ends that didn’t give Quentin many clues as to why they’d been saved. He rolled around a large blue-green marble, shuffled through a deck of cards that weren’t complete, and examined a ring that was much too small for Eliot’s fingers. It contained a simple sunburst gem, but the band was cracked. Quentin replaced it before fitting the lid back on the box and returning it to the shelf. Margo poked her head in and glanced up.

“Any luck?”

“There’s nothing here! Just clothes and accessories.” Quentin turned himself and ran his hands along the shelving, then gasped as something thin sliced across the top of his thumb like a razor. He yelped in surprise, pulled his hand back, then peered into the corner where two wooden joists met to create the shelf. Quentin reached in again and felt around the joists until he found a thin, tan mailing envelope, the kind without the protective bubbled surface. It was tucked between the joist and the wall, and Quentin had cut his thumb on the envelope’s lip. He tugged it out and floated back down to the floor, where Margo crowded him.

“What’s in it?” She demanded. Quentin shrugged—there was no writing on the envelope, no label, no stamps. He undid the metal clasp and opened one end. Something thin and light fell into his hands, and he blinked. Margo’s delicate brow furrowed but then a knowing smile curved across her lips.

“That’s it.”

“But why? He can’t possibly—”

“It makes sense in ways I don’t have time to tell you about.” She slid the object back into the envelope. “Come on.”

******

“You’re certain that’s it?” Professor Sunderland asked as the healers brought over a warded, burning pot on a small wheeled cart. Eliot was no longer responsive, and the roots had grown along his arms, legs, and chest. His eyes were those of a corpse. Quentin glanced at Margo, who opened the tan envelope.

“It’s the horse we bet on,” she sighed, sliding out the object inside, which she handed to Sunderland. The professor frowned.

“I don’t understand.”

“Can you puzzle it out later, before Eliot turns into Audrey II?” Margo asked, shifting her weight nervously, and the older woman nodded. She lit the burning pot, causing the flames to leap up, and tossed the square card into the fire. Quentin stood, unmoving, watching the letters there burn. Letters that spelled out his name on a stark white background. Quentin closed his eyes as he remembered the way Eliot had said his name for the first time when he’d read it off that card, the one that was burning away to cinders now.

Quentin Coldwater??

“I don’t believe it,” Sunderland muttered, and Quentin opened his eyes and swung around to look at her. She was watching the vines that had made their way through the skin on Eliot’s chest. As the card burned, they jerked, withered, and turned to dust. Margo smiled through her tears, fierce and triumphant.

You and your first-year boys,” she murmured.

It took nearly 24 hours for the last of the vines to curl up and die inside Eliot, leaving his skin unblemished, and Quentin sat with him whenever he could. He studied Eliot’s profile as he slept and healed, as he’d never truly dared to look Eliot in the eye when they spoke. There was something electric in the tall magician’s eyes when they were together, and Quentin had always been afraid that making eye contact would ignite it into something he wouldn’t be able to undo.

As the sun went down on that second day, Eliot stirred and made a low questioning sound in his throat. Quentin glanced up from his copy of The World in the Walls and then set the book aside to touch Eliot’s hand.

“El? Hey . . . can you hear me? Eliot, it’s Quentin. Eliot!”

Eliot’s eyelids twitched and then lifted, revealing confused, sleepy amber eyes that were blessedly clear of that corpselike color. Quentin smiled, his own heart lifting.

“Q?” Eliot questioned, and Quentin patted his hand.

“Yeah, hey! How are you feeling?”

“Mmmh . . .” Eliot struggled to sit up and Quentin leaned forward to raise the bed for him. “A little dizzy . . . what am I doing here? What . . .” His eyes widened all at once. “Mike.” He looked down at himself, but all that was left of the wound was hidden by a square of gauze to keep it clean. “We were in the clearing and he tried to stab you.”

“And you jumped in the way and took him down. He stabbed you instead, but it wasn’t with an ordinary knife.” He showed Eliot the book and gave him a brief explanation of the blade. Eliot stared at him.

“My most valued possession. And . . . since I’m clearly cured, you and Margo must have found it.”

“We did.” Quentin cleared his throat. “I just—that is we—didn’t really understand. I never imagined you’d kept that stupid card. What made it so special, El?”

“I remember when Henry assigned me the job of fetching you up to the house to take your test. I read your name off that card about two dozen times before you came through the hedge. I couldn’t imagine what a boy named Quentin Coldwater would look like. But then you came stumbling up to me, your mouth open, sweating buckets in that awful coat you had on . . .” Eliot smiled as Quentin filled a glass with water from the bedside table and handed it to him. “Thank you. And I knew then that I would be devastated if you failed your test. So I suppose I kept the card as a good luck charm—and so I wouldn’t forget your name when I left Brakebills and came to find you if you didn’t get in.”

“But you didn’t even know me!”

“No . . . I guess I didn’t. But I wanted to, Quentin. And if you understood how rare that is for me, that card being my most important possession makes sense. Maybe Margo knew that when she saw it, too.” Eliot put his other hand over Quentin’s and caught his gaze. Quentin swallowed hard as he felt that spark ignite, but it bloomed warm and hopeful in his chest instead of triggering the panic attack he’d feared.

“Do, uhm . . . do you still want to know me?” He asked after a moment, and Eliot squeezed his hand.

“I’ve been trying to get you to make eye contact with me for two months. If getting stabbed with an enchanted blade and ruining my favorite orchid shirt is the cost, then I’d say it was well worth the effort. Thank you, Q. You saved my life.”

“And you saved mine.” Quentin moved from the chair to the edge of the bed. Eliot watched, giving him a guarded but hopeful smile that was so different from the cynical smirk he usually offered people.

“I suppose that makes us even for now,” he allowed. Quentin pulled his feet up under him until he sat hip to hip with Eliot, who slipped an arm around his shoulders. Quentin blushed but didn’t pull away, and Eliot leaned against him.

“Quentin Coldwater,” he said, his tone and inflection making the letters sound like music.

“I’m sorry we had to burn the card, El.”

“That’s all right.” He leaned against Quentin and focused on his heartbeat: strong, sure, young.

“I’ve traded up, anyway.”

Fin

#The Magicians #fic #Queliot

23 notes · View notes

otakunoculture · 5 years

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By Ed Sum (The Vintage Tempest)

Fan Expo Vancouver (FXV) is eight years old! This event began in 2012 and over the years saw plenty of ups and downs. It shifted from a February event to November, and now it’s back in its mainstay of late Winter. The latest event took place a few weeks ago, during this province’s Family Day last month and attendance was quite good. Pairing this event with a long weekend felt good, and to have this event run from Saturday to Monday may seem unusual to some, but it’ll become a norm for this event’s future. Children and parents had a place to play in! A corner was sectioned off for young wizards to sort Harry Potter style. There were bouncy balls and even a small area for costumed tykes to show off their best superhero pose.

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Ideally, the family section should be in a room of its own (cosplay contest included). When the organizers behind this show seem to be settling on using the biggest singular room possible, maximizing the space will be a challenge in the future. The huge food court area may get shrunk. Thankfully, sandwiches, doughnuts and sodas will keep attendees appetites sated. Wild Bill’s Old Fashioned Soda is looking to make a dent in the convention scene with its flavourful root beers. I couldn’t resist and picked up a souvenir cup ($40) which was freely refillable for a day. For $5 on other days, I could remain on a carbonated high. However, for those wanting something more hearty have restaurants outside the convention center to eat in, like the Tap & Barrel. Since this space stretches out to cover both stages on opposite ends, the choice is sound for those not needing a good seat for the panels offered.

Meeting comic creators in a pop culture expo is always a highlight. To name a few of the most well known talents, Todd McFarlene (creator of Spawn), Art Adams (Longshot), Michael Golden (The Micronauts), and Mike Grell (Green Arrow) appeared. McFarlene was only here for a day and he was the most popular! He signed comics (2 only) for free and truly spent time interacting with his many fans. It was a pleasure to learn McFarlene has not forgotten his Vancouver Island roots (where his family lives now) and visits on occasion. Previous years had wonderful talents which also included Bruce Timm! I felt sad that the table given to him was next to the 501st Legion, so he did not get the foot traffic he truly deserved. The variety changes every year, and some talents enjoy returning to the Pacific Northwest (they have booths at Emerald City Comic Con too).

Overall, the vibe is very different when compared to past shows. This year, new sponsors came on board. London Drugs is gone and I think this decision is for the best. Although I miss LEGO, I understand the marketing perspective of when they don’t have a new product to sell, there’s no point in being present. Hewlett Packard is gone in favour of local reps MSI and The Gaming Stadium for proper representation of e-sports. Even to my surprise was space for SHUX, a board game convention which takes place in October. This year, Fan Expo Vancouver offered pretty much everything this city has in fandom in its various aspects.

Representation from nearly all the past television shows and present was generally well received. They had Madelaine Petsch from Riverdale. From Star Trek: The Next Generation, Marina Sirtis and LeVar Burton made appearances. There was even Oscar Nuñez and Brian Baumgartner from The Office. Giancarlo Esposito from The Mandalorian was perhaps the biggest surprise, and he offered hints at what’s to come for season two. Most of that information has been speculated on, and we will learn how his character obtained the Dark Saber! He said filming is done and now in post-production; perhaps a tease will be ready in time for San Diego Comic Con!

Nearly a third of the cast from The Flash and Battlestar Galactica were present during the three days. Lineups to meet the stars were modest. Some seemed to have struggled, almost suggesting X-Files is past its prime but that did not deter talents like Nicolas Lea, Mitch Pileggi and William B. Davis from sitting back and seeing what the fandom is like now when compared to when their shows were really popular.

One convention attendee I spoke to said that when film/tv crew also attends these events, they would rather see other talents who are not local. They can see and talk to them when at work, mostly in technical matters of recording, and I can see their point. I’m impartial, since I’m still waiting for more Stargate to appear in non-Creation Con shows. Not everyone can afford the “higher costs” of tiered seating just to see and meet their favourite actors/actresses. FXV teased fans last year with stars from Stargate: Universe, but to get the SG-1 crew may be tough. Richard Dean Anderson is a family man now. Amanda Tapping is working hard behind the scenes, directing a lot of fan favourites in Vancouver. Michael Shanks and Lexa Doig have their respective shows to be in, and as for where Teryl Rothery is, her work in the new Nancy Drew series will eventually bring her back. These days, Christopher Judge is lending his voice to the cartoon world.

Local television personality Thor Diakow served as host for the panels with the celebrities. He asked a few what are you doing now type questions before turning the remainder of the time to the lineups by the microphone. Nothing new could be gleaned about the latest projects, but one big plug was definitely with Brendan Fraser and Tom Welling‘s The Professional. It’s described as A-Team meets Oceans 11. Of the two, Welling was very personable and a fun spirited, enjoying the show. Fraser was in top form with his humour on stage. Fans remember him more for his early career and I’m sure he wants his current projects to be in the forefront. He doesn’t want to be typecast and nobody can blame him!

Bruce Campbell returns to Fan Expo Van with really nothing to promote this time around, and fans loved him still the same. Corey Feldman is still a dream and Chandler Riggs of Walking Dead fame has really grown up! Hearing Jesse Rath talk about getting the role of Brainiac V was the panel I had to investigate for Monday. A surprise appearance by Nicole Maines (Nia) made a lot of fans happy, and I knew there was a reason I had to be present for this day!

To note, the tenth anniversary is not that far away! As whether something big will take place or not, the organizers have not made an official statement. All I can hope for is complete use of a building rather than just one space in the building.

#FanExpoVancouver 2020 In Pictures & #Convention Report #yvr #yvrevents #popculture in the #pacificnorthwest #comicbooks #thecw #theflash #battlestargalactica #startrek #themandalorean By Ed Sum (The Vintage Tempest) Fan Expo Vancouver (FXV) is eight years old! This event began in 2012 and over the years saw plenty of ups and downs.

#2020 #Convention Report #Fan Expo Vancouver #Photo Gallery #Vancouver Convention Center

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quentinsquill · 8 years

Text

My first Queliot fic is done! I hope you enjoy it and can let me know what you think.

Clarity

Author: Neptune_Rising70 (aka Lexalicious70)

Fandom: The Magicians

Pairing: Eliot/Quentin (Queliot)

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Rating: R (frottage)

Spoilers: for season one

Warnings: Triggers for alcohol abuse

Summary: Eliot’s heart is like a broken Welters board and Quentin is trying to gather up the shattered pieces, one by one, before Eliot can burn them to ashes.

Clarity

By Neptune_Rising70 (aka Lexalicious70)

“Just what the fuck was that about?”

Eliot looked up from the drink he was making at the Physical Kids cottage bar. His head was already aching like a rotting tooth and what he’d seen at the Plover’s house was enough to verify that both life and the afterlife were equally horrible and all he could do to stay afloat between the two was to build a life raft made of liquor.

“Could you be more specific?” He asked Quentin, who stood in the doorway, stiff with what Eliot assumed was righteous indignation. He almost couldn’t pull it off—that kind of posturing was more Alice’s specialty—but Quentin was doing a decent imitation of her and Eliot had to admire the effort.

Quentin crossed the room as Eliot stirred his drink.

“I think you know! The way you talked to Alice back there? Jesus, El! Why did you say that to her?”

“Like I said. I was being helpful. I was being honest.” Eliot took his drink to the couch and sat down.

“There’s being honest and then there’s being an asshole at the worst possible time!” Quentin remained standing, trying to tower over him, but the effect failed miserably and even the younger man knew it. He spun a nearby chair around and sat down, facing Eliot.

“What’s wrong with you?” Quentin asked at last, and a flat stream of giggles erupted from Eliot’s throat. He dumped booze on them and then let his head tip back until it was resting on the back of the couch.

“Fuck off, Quentin. If you really have to ask that question, then you can just fuck. Off.”

“Fine!” Quentin threw his hands in the air and got to his feet. Eliot watched him, raising the glass to his lips, and then scotch was splashing against his clothes and the side of his face. Glass shattered against the wall to his left a moment later in an explosive, single note, and Eliot realized with growing incredulousness and anger that mousy little Quentin Coldwater, King of the Awkward Nerds, had just knocked his drink from his hand. He wiped dripping amber liquid from the side of his jaw and stared up at the younger magician.

“The fuck!”

“You the fuck!” Quentin shot back. “Knock this shit off, Eliot, quit drinking yourself into a stupor and then treating everyone around you like complete crap! It’s not our fault Mike died!”

Quentin’s shouted words bounced off the cottage walls and ricocheted into Eliot’s brain like hard pellets made of venom. They cut a vicious path through the booze and he blinked up at Quentin, who blushed a little but folded his arms over his chest and stood his ground.

“Okay.” Eliot replied, a terrible smile twisting his lips into a grimace as he got to his feet. Quentin became newly aware of their height difference and wondered in a fleeting way if Eliot was angry enough to use magic on him. He didn’t think so, but there was a light in Eliot’s eyes that he’d never seen before. “If you don’t think that I’m aware of that, then you’re an idiot.” Eliot spat the words at him and then took a deep, quivering breath. “It’s my fault.”

Quentin felt some of the anger bleed out of him.

“Eliot, that’s—that’s not right, not at all! Mike was under the thrall of the beast! He killed Jane Chatwin, he tried to kill Dean Fogg! He might have killed you if you hadn’t protected yourself!”

“Protected myself.” Eliot said, his tone flat. “Is that what you think happened? That it was a moment of pure selfishness?”

“I don’t know.” Quentin shook his head. “I wasn’t there. And we never really talked about it.”

“Seems to be a common theme among our little group.” Eliot replied, glancing away, and Quentin started to reach out before the cold place between them made his arm drop back to his side.

“There’s kind of been a lot going on since then! Mostly us trying to avoid getting our heads ripped off by The Beast!”

“Well. You don’t need to worry about me, Q.” Eliot forced a smile that felt waterier than a drink with half the ice melted away. “The needs of the many, right?”

Star Trek? When the hell did he see Wrath of Kahn? Quentin asked himself. Eliot rolled his eyes and turned back to the bar, but Quentin grabbed his right arm, just above the elbow. He felt tension in the sinewy muscles and sensed the third-year’s abilities, which far outpaced his own. Eliot staggered back a step and then looked over his shoulder, his dark amber eyes narrowing.

“Get your fucking hand off me, Quentin.”

“No.” Quentin tightened his fingers around the silk material of Eliot’s shirt. “I’m not letting you drink yourself to death over something that wasn’t your fault!”

“The state of my liver and what I did in that passageway isn’t your concern! Let me go!” Eliot jerked away, took two unsteady steps, and then stumbled halfway to the bar. Quentin ducked under the tall magician’s arm and slipped his left arm around Eliot’s waist and turned him in a not-so-graceful swing, toward the bedroom instead of the bar.

“Come on. You need to lie down.”

Eliot chuckled in a venomous tone.

“My my, look who’s the boss all of a sudden! I didn’t know one could conjure a backbone.”

“Just come on.” Quentin helped him into the bedroom. They paused in the doorway, and then one of Eliot’s big, fine-boned hands was in Quentin’s hair, petting and playing with it. Quentin suppressed a shiver of pleasure as two fingers brushed against the nape of his neck. He helped Eliot to the bed, but then the taller boy turned, wrapping his other arm around Quentin and giving a drunken whoop as he let himself fall like a weather-beaten tree. They landed on the bed together and Quentin sat up to lift Eliot’s long legs into the bed. Eliot stared up at the ceiling as Quentin pulled off his shoes and then kicked off his own before he settled down next to this friend. Silence stretched out until Quentin thought Eliot had passed out, but then he spoke softly.

“You remember how I told you that magic doesn’t come from joy or happiness? That it comes from pain?”

Quentin turned over onto his side to face Eliot.

“I do.”

“That’s what happened. It’s why I was able to do what no one else could. When he came out of that cell and took down Dean Fogg, I finally saw Mike for what he was. Up until that moment, I thought there must be some mistake or maybe he was just sick. But when he looked at me, I saw what he was, Q. What he had always been. And . . . I felt this sick kind of shame and rage build up inside me until it rushed out of my chest and down my arms and through my hands and—and I killed him. I twisted his neck around without even touching him. I reversed what I felt for him, and I used it as a weapon.” Eliot’s lips trembled. “I killed him with the part of me that I hate most about myself!” The last word dissolved under a forceful barrage of tears. Quentin shifted closer and got his arms around Eliot, feeling his friend's heart beating much too quickly against his chest.

“El. Hey . . . shhhhh . . .” Quentin pulled one hand back and pushed his fingers gently through Eliot’s ebony hair, untangling the stubborn curls he sometimes tried to tame with gel. Quentin loosened them so his fingers wouldn’t snag and pushed them back gently, over and over. “It’s okay. Hey! Listen to me.” He lifted Eliot’s chin with his other hand. “What you did saved us all. If you hadn’t stopped him, he would have come after me next, and then Margo and Penny. He would have slaughtered anyone who got in his way. Innocent students all over Brakebills and beyond!” The hand on his chin moved up to wipe away Eliot’s tears. Eliot was still weeping but his eyes were fixed on Quentin’s—good, at least his friend was listening. “You saw him for what he was in that moment and you sacrificed your own feelings to save Professor Fogg and everyone else at this campus!”

“Do you think I wanted to see that?” Eliot asked, his voice ragged with tears. “To see how he’d duped me—how he’d been able to get past my defenses? I brought him into the fold, Quentin!”

“You weren’t the only one he fooled. Even Penny didn’t see what he was.” Quentin wiped away two fresh tears. They were hot and transparent as they slid down his index finger. “The Beast worked on us in all different ways. He sent someone—something—that you wanted. Someone like yourself, someone He knew you’d respond to! That’s not your fault! It wasn’t Mike’s either and I’m sorry for what The Beast did to him but I’m not sorry you defended yourself!”

“You’re not? Why?” Eliot asked, hitching in a breath, and Quentin’s expression shifted to one of surprise. His hands slid down to cup Eliot’s face.

“You really don’t always see what’s in front of you, do you, El?” He smiled. “Because I care about you! I care and—and I want you here and I want you in my life and—” Quentin ran out of words then, so he did the only thing he could think of to take on a share of the pain in Eliot’s eyes.

He kissed him.

Even as he pressed his lips into Eliot’s, Quentin gave a thought to Alice and their relationship, but this is what you might call a dire emergency—unless you counted Margo, Eliot had received precious little affection in his life, and Quentin would be damned if he’d be the one to withhold it now. He kept his hands on either side of Eliot’s face but suddenly Eliot was returning the kiss, his hands coming up to slide through Quentin’s hair, where his fingers tugged and wound and explored. Quentin broke the kiss as he felt heat flood his cheeks but Eliot didn’t allow him to retreat into embarrassment. He slipped a big hand around the back of Quentin’s neck and drew him in for another kiss. Quentin tasted scotch and the silk-cut cigarettes Eliot preferred but it made this heady mixture that only made his inhibitions slip away faster. Eliot pulled away from his lips and went for his neck instead, and bursts of pleasure shot from the marked skin down to his cock, which began to twitch in what Quentin couldn’t deny was extreme interest. He put his hands in Eliot’s hair and the next thing he knew, they were sliding down to fumble open the buttons of the taller man’s shirt. Eliot watched and then his dark amber eyes lifted to Quentin’s face.

“Quentin . . .?”

“Don’t. Don’t ask me questions because I don’t think I have the answers, El. Just—just shut up.” He pulled off Eliot’s shirt and then his own. The pants were a little more difficult because Eliot’s long legs were pliant with booze and emotion but Quentin pulled those off too, along with a pair of fashionable black boxers. He shed his own, along with his boxers, and slid his left leg over Eliot’s flat stomach until he was straddling his lap. That cold place that had been between them earlier was gone now and Eliot stared up at him as his elegant hands splayed against Quentin’s chest. Quentin reached down and wrapped his hands around Eliot’s wrists, giving himself balance as he shifted just right and then began to rock back and forth. Eliot’s expression morphed from confusion to pleasure and his mouth dropped open slightly.

“Quentin! Oh—” He began to rock his lean hips in reply. Quentin tightened his hands around Eliot’s wrists and then leaned forward slightly, giving Eliot something he rarely gave anyone—eye contact. A spark jumped between them as they locked eyes. The older man didn’t speak; he found that he didn’t have to. Something was growing between them now, a heat, a glow, and Quentin let his hands slide down Eliot’s lean, long arms until their lips could meet. Eliot arched into the kiss, his toes curling as Quentin’s cock rubbed and slid against his.

The friction on its own was delicious enough but the way Quentin was looking at him, even as they kissed, was causing golden threads to weave around the broken places in his heart, the ones that had shattered along with the sound of Mike’s neck snapping, and bind them back together. Quentin’s kisses were far from experienced but they were full of affection and honesty, something Eliot drank in. Quentin’s fingers curled around his biceps and the power between them made the fine hairs on Eliot’s arms stand at attention. He could feel his body tightening, full of tension that was ready to be released and then Quentin’s hands splayed against his chest, his palms kneading into his nipples as they continued to kiss and Eliot brought a hand up to the back of Quentin’s neck to steady him and Christ it was perfect and fuck yes there—

Eliot moaned against Quentin’s wide, full mouth and his lean body shuddered as the eager hand of orgasm pushed him over the edge. He came against Quentin’s abs in three or four wet jets and broke the kiss to give a short, sharp cry. Quentin’s dark eyes were wide and bright, his mouth open slightly as he thrust against Eliot a few more times and a hot, sticky wetness shot across Eliot’s lower belly. The last few thrusts were erratic as Quentin gave himself up to the orgasm and then he was slowly pulling back. Eliot relaxed his hand and it slid away from the back of Quentin’s neck.

Quentin gulped in air and stared down at the other magician. Now that the moment was over, Eliot was sure the kid would bolt, unable to deal with the decision he’d made, but he only sat up a little. Eliot’s eyes closed for a few moments as he swam in the warm pulses and flutters of aftershock, and then a wet washcloth was stroking over his stomach, cleaning him. He opened his eyes to see Quentin leaning over him, still nude, and then he was getting into bed and pulling the covers up over them both. He turned toward Eliot and a smile quirked the corners of his mouth upward.

“I’m staying.” He said, and Eliot adjusted his pillow.

“People usually don’t.”

“I’m not people.” Quentin settled against him. “I’m Quentin.”

“Okay.” Eliot’s eyes searched his face. “What you said before, about wanting me in your life . . .”

“Yeah?”

“I think it can be arranged.”

Quentin moved forward and slid his arms around Eliot’s shoulders.

“Good. Because I lied, El. I don’t want you in my life. I need you in it.”

“For now. Things change, Q.” Eliot replied softly, and Quentin let his fingers rest in Eliot’s dark hair.

“They do. They just did. But maybe this way, we can see those changes coming together.”

“That is stupidly romantic, Quentin Coldwater.” Eliot murmured, and Quentin smiled against Eliot’s pale neck.

“I guess it is.” He said softly. He was asleep a few moments later and Eliot carefully slid his arms around the younger magician, listening to him breathe. His own heart and mind were quiet for the first time in weeks, and he shifted his weight slightly until Quentin lay comfortably in his arms. He closed his eyes as he let one hand settle into his friend’s silky hair. Maybe it was stupidly romantic after all, but the light Quentin had created in Eliot’s heart was real, and it was guiding him slowly out of the darkness.

FIN

A/N: I blame this directly on Hale Appleman, whose portrayal of Eliot Waugh is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen since Michael Rosenbaum played Lex Luthor on Smallville and because no one took care of Eliot after Mike. I don’t own The Magicians and make no profit from this: it’s just for fun. Feedback is loved: enjoy! Thanks to DreamWvr73 for the beta.

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#The Magicians #Queliot #fic #look i wrote a thing #quentin coldwater #Eliot Waugh

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