#gswritings

[grimssunshine]

His one and only Mortal

Chia ; 20 ; Grim' Sunshine !

Requests :: Closed !

Grim is such a baby girl. Fight me.

“ 𝒊 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆. ”

“ 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕? ”

“ 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒐𝒃𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒍𝒚. ”

M.List

©grimssunshine ; do not copy/translate

[gswritings]

Oh my god! I just finished writing the next to last chapter of Heat's Receipt. It is thrilling to get so close to the end after all this time! I hope to write the last one this week. Chapter 6 will appear on 4th November definitely. Then I will set up a posting schedule until 24th December. 5 Years after the prequel started it is going to end on the same day then.

But it is not the end of the Bloodline Series. I am additionally writing intensely on the plot for two other parts. It is so complex and so much fun to plan! I am in love and I wish I could write down everything in an instant. Sadly all this writing and editing takes some time, damn it. xD

But it feels good to be back. It gives me so much peace. I am really happy. Thank you for sticking around. Thank you for all the many kudos and comments on Heat's Receipt so far. I love you!

Let's be excited for a sinnister story about love and blood, dark secrets and real loyalty. Fun Fact: Heat's Receipt was originally a sweet Sterek Secret Santa gift. Well, that didn't turn out pretty cuddly though! But this year's work will be, because I participate again, and it will be a oneshot. Of course I cannot tell you more about it yet. ;) 24th December will be a big day for me. :)

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, gswritings!

For @gswritings. This contains a little bit from a couple of your ideas, I hope you like it!

*****

An Unexpected Gift, It Is

The first time it happens, Stiles is drunker than he’s ever been in his life, and he chalks the whole thing up to his blurry vision and a little bit of wishful thinking.

It’s his 21st birthday and to his shock the whole night has been overwhelming good. Things have been quiet in Beacon Hills for a few years now, and Scott and Derek have worked out a companionable agreement of keeping watch. Stiles still has a couple more years of school before he can apply to be a real FBI agent, but he’s been enjoying the college experience as he works on his bachelor's degree. Getting out of town, even while staying in California, has been good for him. But still, he’s glad to be home for a while. He’s missed it.

He says as much to the room at large as he’s being stripped of his jeans and shoes and deposited into one of the spare beds at Derek’s rebuilt home.

Derek laughs softly and shakes his head at the drunken grin on Stiles’ face.

Continue on AO3

[honeykngdom]

Hello honey. I hope it's okay to cole up with random questions about Jugpea! Who do you like hates Christmas more? Jug or Pea? Also: Do you have any Jugpea fic recs????

absolutely! love them! 

ngl I think they hate it, but sweets might hate it just a tad bit more; sweet pea doesn’t like the cold, he doesn’t like the christmas cheer, he doesn’t like the spoiled children, or the obligation to get something for someone if they mean something to you. juggie hates social gatherings and merit behind it all, would rather just be at home, but all of the holiday feasts make him real happy so he finds balance. 

as for a fic rec, I haven’t had any time to go searching just yet but someone mentioned the fic “looking out for the little guy” on AO3, I’m not sure who it’s written by so if anyone knows, please leave the username below!

[inkandblade]

YOU'RE STILL THERE! I only got a notification that your blog could contain adult content. :)

Yes. Pity I can’t get to any of it to kill the N and make it all SFW. Pillowfort and dreamwidth ahoy!

=P 

[kurokoros]

Woo I love the header change! :D

Thanks! @fcgartys made it!

[riverdale-events]

Just finished part two (yes already, what am I gonna write around december at that pace) and it's gonna be the darkest Christmas fic ever. With a big big boom of a happy ending. I hope this makes up for it. There wasn't a rule for it to be fluffy or anything, right? 8D

No rules on how you can make your fic! If you want to make an angsty Holiday fic you’re more than welcome to! :)

[sebastianevans]

But now that I've seen this it’s too good to let go! 😲

NOOOOO. IS ANYONE ON MY SIDE???????

[nyxelestia]

gswritings replied to your post “I don't know whether to laugh or cry or...?”

O_o Dude.... that’s obviously crap. Don't mind it. If they don't like Derek and Sterek they can. But we also can so that. So never mind, honestly. How weird... o_O

Oh, I don't mind it. I actually ignore most hate that I get. (People don't notice because what little hate I don't ignore tends to get a lot of attention.) There's a reason I just deleted these asks without answering or publishing them.

I just find it funny, given the kind of wank I've been drawn into over the last year.

I started out extremely pro-Sterek. But over time, I started to get more and more disconcerted by a lot of the attitudes I'd see in the fandom (and how they manifested in fanfic). I eventually got frustrated enough (mostly due to depressingly well-intentioned anti-Scott comments on my Stiles/Derek fanfic) to actually say something. Wank ensued, and I got a reputation for being "anti-Sterek" and a "Scott-stan". (Because apparently, being pro-something now automatically means you stan it? Ugh, I'm too old to keep up with the new definitions.)

Recently, though, I got into a lot of wank with some Sciles BNFs by defending Derek. The gist of it is that I don't think past abusive behavior (that someone regretted doing and reformed from) automatically make someone an abuser (as a character identity/description), and that I have issues with people clumping together disparate crimes under a blanket term. I wouldn't characterize shoplifting as being the same crime as armed robbery, or trespassing on someone's yard to be the same as breaking into their house, so I don't characterize sexual harassment as sexual assault. The person who was calling Derek a rapist disagreed with me.

Now some anon just sent me a bunch of asks calling me a hypocrite and a liar for defending Derek after being pro-Scott for so long.

Teen Wolf has become so polarized that even though I'm just pro everyone, this means people interpret me as being anti everyone. I'm pro-Scott, and therefore anti-Sterek. I'm pro-Derek, and therefore anti-Sciles. I'm pro-Malia, therefore I'm anti-Stydia. I'm pro-Lydia, therefore I'm anti-Stalia. etc. etc.

And now, being pro-Derek means I'm anti-Scott, despite the fact I got my anti-Sterek reputation in the first place almost entirely by being pro-Scott.

(Side note: I predicted that fandom culture would become like this years and years ago, back when Tumblr was still a feed-service that most of fandom ignored. Sometimes, I hate being right.)

It's all shit I've gone through before, but I'm impressed that it only took a bit over a year for this to come full circle like this. I'm not sure if this circular wank is actually happening faster, or if it just feels faster because I'm getting older. I’m a Millenial and I've already become a fandom grandma, wtf.

[sterek-stories]

Hellooo. I am a little bit torn over here. First of all: Your Stilinski Hale School is one of the most wonderful ideas someone ever had as an event and you really should do that more often! It's exactly what is so needed for many of us. It's an act of unity and generous kindness and we damn should act that way more in life and fandom both. But there's a problem. I would like to sign up but don't know how because there are so many possible times for the event. 8D Any idea when it takes place?

Hi! We’re glad people seem to like the idea :)

Sign ups are not opened yet! We’re first doing this poll to see if there’s interest and to help us come up with the dates and define more details regarding the event. March and April are the most voted months for now, but we’ll try to give everyone plenty of time for their submissions to be ready, considering school and work tend to keep people busier before the summer.

[nogitsunelichen]

Hey!! Say five things you like about yourself publicly and send this to 10 of your favorite followers (non-negotiable).

1. my laugh

2. my eyebrows

3. my ability to have adult face to face conversations

4. my love for writing

5. my friends and family (bc I wouldn’t be me without them)

Awww, thanks for sending it! Love you! :)

[unelore]

Hey!! Say five things you like about yourself publicly and send this to 10 of your favorite followers (non-negotiable).

I like my hair. 

That I can cook and bake. 

I like that I can ask for help if I need it, sometimes it just takes a while.

I overall do like my body (missing my boobs, they shrunk from the size they were before the pregnancy).

I like that I have grown as a person since I realized that I was “not right” (depression and all those things), that I was a brat and that I know myself enough now to know I am still a brat I’m just supposedly more mature about it with other people ;)

Thanks for sending me this @gswritings =)

[gswritings]

Heat's Receipt chapter 7 is out on Ao3!

In the next to last chapter Derek and Stiles finally talk to each other. But will it do them any good? Find out and click the link: Ao3. The final chapter will be posted 25th Dezember. The same day the first one was once published. So follow my accounts for updates on this one AND the upcoming main story Love's Receipt. Ao3: GSWritings Instagram: gswritingspictured Twitter: gswritings Btw: I am planning to make the design update even before that, so you can find me better around the net.

Let me know how you liked the chapter! :D

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @gswritings!

Read on AO3

******

Stilinski’s Supernatural Rehabilitation Center

Stiles crossed the small living room to the front door of the cabin. The soft pine scent from the trees outside almost reminded him of the Christmas tree his dad would get every year. A smile twisted his lips as he opened the door.

The preserve looked plain. Just pine trees, dirt paths, a bit of bramble here and there. But it was so much more than that.

Wind rustled the branches, carrying with it a low growl.

“I know you’re hungry!” Stiles called, stepping onto the porch. A feed shed sat just before the tree line. He ambled toward it.

Whenever he thought back to his dad’s face the day he told him he was going to run a magical creature rehabilitation center, he cringed. His dad had laughed at him. Assumed Stiles was joking. Then he got concerned when Stiles didn’t start laughing with him.

Stiles entered the shed, immediately going to the oversized freezer. Most of his patients ate meat. He pulled pounds of frozen veal, venison, and boar out, stuffing them into buckets that were labeled and kept neatly on the wall.

His dad’s first concern was that Stiles would need to live outside of town and if something happened, no one would know where he was.

Stiles had countered that that was what cell phones were for.

The second thing he brought up was the soulmark on Stiles’s left wrist. How will you find them if you’re ankle deep in mud in the woods?

Stiles had rolled his eyes and replied, I guess they’ll just have to find me.

Stiles heaved the buckets up, tottering for a second as his balance was thrown off. Once his feet were steady under him, he headed out.

His boots crunched over the cold earth, breath fogging the air in front of his face. Thankfully, the first patient, an imp with a missing eye, wasn’t far away.

The imp had wandered into the preserve on his own.

Stiles wasn’t sure how exactly the injury had happened, but he’d tended the bloody wound and found a vacant part of the forest for him to stay. “Are you feeling better?” Stiles stepped lightly into the clearing.

A bush rustled half a second before a big, brown eye appeared through the branches. It blinked up at him sleepily.

Stiles crouched; he was still a ways away from the imp but had learned early on that it was best to let it come to him.

He set the bucket down and pulled out a handful of ribs.

The imp’s head jerked up in interest. Twigs snapped and remaining dead foliage fluttered to the ground as it crawled toward him.

Stiles frowned. The wound on the imp’s face was still red and raw. He leaned forward half an inch.

It froze.

“It’s alright,” Stiles soothed, nudging the rib closer to it. “I just need to look closer.”

The imp cautiously approached.

Black crust made a ring around the injury, smelling of decay.

Stiles’s frown deepened. His magic was supposed to prevent infection. Sparks flicked around his fingertips as he called his magic to the surface.

The imp watched him warily, chewing on the rib with small, pointed teeth.

Stiles touched the skin around the wound.

The black decay fell to the ground, the scent fading.

The imp blinked.

“There you go,” Stiles said. “Hopefully there’ll be more progress tomorrow, yeah?”

Charlie, a gnome with the flu, also appeared worse.

“What happened, guys?” Stiles asked, listening as Charlie hacked a cough.

Stiles placed a hand on her rough back. He felt the mucus in her lungs gurgle with each breath. That definitely wasn’t good.

He pulled herbs from his bag and mixed together a tea in a thermos. “Here, drink this.”

Charlie took it, shaking her hands irritably at the too-hot container.

“It’ll make you feel better,” Stiles said.

Charlie glared but tentatively took a sip, sticking her tongue out in disgust.

The water creatures were last. They were furthest from the cabin, located in a large pond that tied into a creek.

The pond came into view quickly; it was grey in the early light, a thin fog hovering just above the surface.

Ripples broke the water, a flash of a fin cresting the surface.

“Good morning,” Stiles greeted, squatting by the edge of the water.

A thin purple-tinged face stared back at him from the depths, sea-weed green hair billowing around her face.

The mermaid hadn’t given him a name to call her. Which was fine, only Charlie and Loti, the water nymph, had given him names.

Stiles looked up, first out over the water, then toward the trees, looking for her.

A low growl reverberated through the woods. More ripples broke the surface, turning into small waves as they hit land.

Stiles rose to his feet. The growl didn’t sound threatening, but it was clearly a warning.

The mermaid twisted around, dark tail glinting in the water.

Stiles watched her swim into the deeper area before vanishing entirely through a film of sediment.

“Loti?” he called.

There was no answer. Not even a chirp of birds in the trees behind him.

The mermaid’s head popped above the surface several yards away. She looked at Stiles, then down at something in the water, then toward the shore. Whatever she was carrying appeared to be heavy; she struggled a couple times to roll what looked like mud onto the land. It took Stiles a moment to realize it was Loti covered in a thick black rot. His mouth fell open in a silent gasp. The smell was horrendous, but as he approached, he could see her breathing. He could save her.

The mermaid swam backwards again, out into the deeper water.

Stiles dropped to his knees next to Loti, magic already flying across his fingers.

In the corner of his vision, the mermaid hunkered lower into the water. He’d have to figure out what was wrong with her in a moment.

Stiles’s head jerked forward, vision blurring as pain exploded behind his eyes.

Loti growled, multiple rows of sharp teeth flashing, and Stiles pitched sideways onto the ground.

Dark…pain…heavy….Everything hurt. He heard a groan. Was someone else with him? Cracking his eyes open hurt, but he managed. He saw Loti’s arm, still charred black. He lifted his head; it bobbed unsteadily as he looked around the darkening trees. He was definitely alone. The groan must have been from him.

He looked back at Loti. He couldn’t tell from the view of her forearm and shoulder if she was still breathing or not. Someone was trying to kill his patients. Pain lanced through his head and down his neck. Someone had tried to kill him.

Water sloshed somewhere close by. Stiles tensed. His attacker had returned.

Purple-tinged skin cut across his vision.

He blinked up at the mermaid. She held something out to him, fingers curled around a dark object. His phone. It was wet, like whoever had attacked him had thrown it in the water.

He rolled onto his side, gasping in pain when it seared down his arm. He gingerly reached out, taking the device. From within its case, it turned on. He’d have to thank his dad for the “life-proof” case he’d once insisted wasn’t “Stiles-proof”.

The mermaid shifted and Stiles looked back at her, realizing for the first time that she’d crawled onto land to reach him. “Thank you.”

She slid back into the water.

Stiles hit the emergency call.

Hands were moving him.

His left wrist felt like it was on fire. Had he fallen on his wrist? He’d have to ask later.

There was a bed beneath him. His bed.

Stiles woke up gradually. His head throbbed and overall, he felt like he’d been mauled by a hellhound. By the time he felt alright enough to open his eyes, he was sure an hour had gone by. Voices floated through the cabin from the kitchen. The bastard was back!

Stiles threw his legs off the side of the bed, snatching up the baseball bat he kept next to the nightstand. He’d beat their head in for touching his patients. He crossed the room, wobbling and distantly noticing that he was in the same pants and socks he’d been in but was now shirtless. He’d deal with that later. He flew down the hall, bat raised as he skidded around the corner into the kitchen.

He swung.

A large hand caught the bat with a solid smack. “It’s alright!” a man said quickly, holding the bat mid-swing. “We’re here to help.”

Stiles’s glare slowly faded, taking in the paramedic uniforms on two men, and the medical kit on the table.

The man holding the bat loosened his grip, slowly pulling his hand back in case Stiles took another swing at him. “I’m Derek. My partner here,” he gestured to the man at the table, “is Jordan.”

Jordan lifted his hand.

“We’re EMTs with-”

“Beacon Hills,” Stiles interrupted, seeing the name on his uniform. “I, uh, can read.” The room spun.

Derek and Jordan were clearly not a threat. Which was nice. Stiles was done with getting into fights…for hopefully the rest of the year.

“Sit down.” Derek put a hand on Stiles’s arm, applying just enough pressure to guide him.

Stiles’s skin grew warm where he touched.

A sense of calm overpowered the nerves and made the spinning stop. He allowed Derek to lead him to a chair. Technically, his chair. They hadn’t taken him to a hospital, and they hadn’t run off screaming at the sight of Loti. Or maybe they had. He’d been unconscious. He didn’t know.

He propped his elbows on the table and set his head in his hands. They had to be supernaturals of some kind. He looked at the medical kit on the table. A decoy.

“Was Loti—the nymph—alright?” Stiles knew she was far from “alright”, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask if she was alive. Whatever had effected the imp and Charlie had also gotten her.

Derek and Jordan exchanged a glance. Jordan gave a one-shouldered shrug and looked at Stiles seriously. “How hard did you hit your head?”

Stiles’s face reddened with fury. “Don’t bullshit me right now. I know she was next to me, by the lake. I know you two didn’t drag me to the hospital because if what happened is supernatural related, you don’t want to scare the humans.” His left wrist tingled painfully. He flicked it in irritation, involuntary sparks shooting from his hand. “You,” he pointed at Derek, “stopped a bat mid swing without even flinching. And your,” he pointed at Jordan, “medical kit is out of date.”

Jordan blinked, stunned.

Derek laughed. “New kits are on the way,” he explained, taking a seat next to Stiles. “Good eye, these technically expire next week.” He placed his hand on Stiles’s arm again, and the pounding in his head faded. “I’m a werewolf, and Jordan’s a hellhound. Care to tell us what happened?”

Stiles buried his face in his hands. “I rehabilitate supernatural creatures and they’re taking sick with black rot. It wasn’t there yesterday. It’s progressing fast. Loti was the worst.”

Derek hummed understandingly. “She’s alive.”

Stiles’s had shot up. “What?”

“It’s wolfsbane,” Jordan said. “We were able to slow down the effects, but we won’t be able to cure them unless we find the same wolfsbane that poisoned them.” Jordan placed his hands on his lap, eyes flicking over Stiles’s face. “Druid?”

“Spark,” he muttered. So, he had to find whoever hit him, find out where they keep their poison, heal his patients, and, he glanced at the clock, feed them a very late dinner.

His left wrist burned.

“What’s going on?” he demanded. He dropped his wrist on the table and twisted, expecting to see a bruise or swelling. Anything to indicate where the pain was coming from. The soulmark that had sat for years just below his palm had changed. Once a simple circle, it now held three connected spirals. “Please tell me one of you is my soulmate, and not the crazy asshole who knocked me over the head.” He looked up, first to Jordan, who looked at Derek.

Without prompting, Derek flipped his own wrist over, exposing the same mark.

“Huh.” Stiles nodded. “You did have to come find me, I guess.”

A concerned frown wrinkled Derek’s face. “You need to get some rest.”

Stiles opened his mouth, halfway to agreeing when a tree snapped in the woods. He paused. If the room hadn’t been so quiet, he was sure he would have missed it. None of his patients ventured this close to the house. The bastard, Stiles thought, jumping to his feet. That bastard. The chair he’d been sitting in toppled over as he bolted toward the door. He could hear Jordan and Derek protesting, but he didn’t care; he had his bat and magic pulsing through his veins.

He didn’t know how he moved so fast, but he flew across the yard, racing for the figure he could see crouched and frozen.

She spotted him and straightened up. “Well, this is awkward,” she said, and leveled a gun at him.

Stiles was not normally an idiot, but no one messed with his patients. He barreled right into the crazy lady with the gun. He flinched when it went off, nearly deafening him, as they hit the ground in a tangle. He wrestled it from her hands and threw it off to the left, into the woods.

She reared back and punched him in the face, dazing him.

He came back swinging, managing to clip her jaw with her fist. He swore when she rolled them over, pinning him into the dirt with her knees on his arms. “Don’t! Touch! My! Patients!” He twisted his wrists under her legs and grabbed her calves, jolting electricity through her like a homemade Taser.

She screamed and fell off of him, trembling.

Stiles, panting, sat back.

There was a pouch on her belt, purple dust spilling out.

“What is that?”

“Death,” she spat.

“So the wolfsbane.” He lunged at her; her nails raked across his cheek, but he didn’t care, fumbling the pouch from her belt.

She kneed him in the jaw, knocking him sprawling.

He held up the pouch, triumphant. “I win—fuck!”

She tackled him, her knees plowing into his gut and winding him.

He clenched his fingers tight around the opening of the pouch, keeping it from spilling, and rolled. When she wouldn’t release her grip on him, he went with instinct and slammed his head forward, right into her nose.

She shouted in pain, putting her hands over her bleeding nose.

Stiles bolted to his feet and ran. He tripped over a root three yards in, cursing and holding the pouch close to his chest.

“Ha,” the woman said softly.

Stiles looked over her shoulder and swallowed audibly.

She’d found her gun, it looked like. She was aiming at him again.

He flexed his ankle and wondered if he would make it if he bolted to the left. He braced.

A shadow rose up behind the woman. “Kate, long time no see,” Derek said, reaching out and snapping her neck.

Stiles watched her body topple to the ground. He blinked. Looked at Derek. “Remind me to thank you later,” he said weakly. He turned and got sick in the dirt.

Jordan and Derek took Stiles to where they’d laid Loti on some brush, partially blocked from view by a tree.

From the water, the mermaid watched as Derek walked Stiles through the steps of curing wolfsbane poisoning. First heating the powder, then applying it like a lotion.

Loti immediately started squirming, becoming more aware of her surroundings and more aware of how much she didn’t want to be this close to Derek and Jordan.

She grumbled at them as she slunk back into the water.

Charlie was next, then the imp.

By the time they got back into the house, Stiles was exhausted.

“I’m going back to the hospital,” Jordan announced when they got to the porch.

Derek nodded. “Have fun. I’m sure Erica will try to rope you into going to the Christmas party.” He wrinkled his nose.

Jordan gave a shuddering sigh. “Probably.” He looked at Stiles, then back at Derek, one brow quirked. “Standard time off when you meet your soulmate is three days. Should I tell them you’ll be back then?”

Derek turned to Stiles, who was leaning against the side of his house.

Stiles shrugged. “You can stay here if you want.” The recent events made his typically loose brain-to-mouth-filter basically non-existent. “I’d like you to stay. So we can get to know each other.”

“Yeah, tell them I’ll be back Monday.” Derek stepped closer to the door, to Stiles.

The warmth and comfort radiating from his body had Stiles leaning toward him. Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around his middle.

Derek hugged him back automatically.

Stiles sighed and sagged into his embrace. “Thank you for your help,” he muttered into his chest. Exhaustion washed over him. “Let’s talk tomorrow.” He closed his eyes.

Derek chuckled quietly and brushed his lips against the back of Stiles’s head. “Deal.”

[honeykngdom]

You freaking convert me to Jugpea!

no shame! we love and support jugpea in this house! 

[inkandblade]

Hello again! Hope you're doing great with your work and studies! How long was it again until you have more free time? :o

I’m bumbling along with my work and studies! Though my study load isn’t as heavy as I thought it would be at the moment, work is still pretty heavy. I’ve moved into trying to do around a half hour of writing a day. Hopefully it will be more, but I’m not holding my breath right now! I’ve got a couple of old, shortish projects that I’ve pulled out to try to get into. As soon as I’ve got myself into a daily 30min writing habit, and assuming that I can keep doing it when the next ‘semester’ starts (end May), and that work doesn’t get too much more hectic? Hopefully I’ll be able to pull out one of my ‘big’ projects then and get stuck in.Lots of hopefullys and assumptions!