Call me Cat (she/her) and I follow from @catsafari25 :D
Occasionally I write (vsmp) fic! Find me at my AO3 or find all my fics tagged under #cat writes!
Ongoing:
The Work-Afterlife Balance - Legs & Owen survive VSMP and are employed by Abolish's organisation. Nobody is remotely normal about this. Regular updates.
Remains to be Seen - After surviving an attack on his life, Louis follows after Owen, only to find Oakhurst empty. Very much an AU, with an epistolary-styled, found media narrative. Slow updates due to the style of the fic.
Oneshots:
Bloodlines - an "almost au" where Morcant takes Abolish in, with plans to raise him for the slaughter - only to come to care for him.
i've grown a mouth so sharp and cruel - an AU where newly-turned Legs catches up with Owen and Abolish on their way to the beacon.
make a mercy out of me - fake vampire Legs gets shot, and help comes from an unexpected corner.
Reapercussions - post ep 5, multiple people have Opinions on Legs' recently announced 'vampirism'.
Tabula rasa - Owen turns Legs, in an AU where being turned erases all human memories, and gets more than he bargains for.
we're not getting out of this dead - the humans of Oakhurst discuss their inability to die. The implications are not reassuring.
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β¨ Choose three adjectives to complement your own writing.
To, uh, borrow a word from @uncannyfig answer to the same question: rhythmic. When I write, I can feel like a, uh, pulse or a melody to the words? Different genres/moods have different rhythms, and sometimes I can 'hear' when the beat is off. I believe I'm good at conveying that.
Adjective 2: creative? I think I'm good at finding creative or unexpected ways to express the story I want to tell. And fun. Like, I am just here to enjoy myself, and I hope that shows, even in the more angsty/horror stories.
π What inspired you to write [insert fic here]?
Let's go with i've grown a mouth so sharp and cruel :)
The thought process was something like "oh man, I loved the tragedy of the finale, but I really wanted Legs & Owen to encounter each other one last time before they went to their respective ends >:D"
I really wanted to dive into that messy, messed-up thought that Owen would probably be thrilled to see his plan come to pass - to reduce the doc down to a monster - and would find his own death at Legs' hands a fitting way to ensure the cycle of violence continues. I wanted the horror as he realises he's failed, and the desperate, last-ditch attempt to goad the doc into murdering him. I wanted Owen to go to that final beacon knowing he was wrong, and that, when shit finally hit the fan, Legs still choose to be the person he was trying to be, not the person he was.
(I can also cite that fic as being The Fic to make me realise how much fun Abolish's character was to write, and without it I probably wouldn't have started TWAB)
still on my bloodloathing divorce au nonsense, these awful men are consuming me.
have this, a look at the early days of Scott and Legundo's relationship.
****
It had been another long evening of conversation. Legundo worked away in the room that had been converted into an improvised laboratory, while Scott sat on the couch and pretended to help. Mostly he just pestered Legundo, asking countless questions and throwing far too much flirtation his way. But Legundo could not bring himself to begrudge the young man. He knew what a mask over deep loneliness looked like, he saw the way Scott's brow would furrow as they sat at his mother's bedside and watched another attempt fail. Legundo could weather the young man's misguided affections, if it meant he could keep trying to help. The Lady Goldsmith was not his only patient in the Castle, after all.
That night, Legs had been testing a new concoction. He had taken a small sample of Lady Goldsmith's blood β he'd held his breath as he made the delicate incision, he would not let himself be distracted by the intoxicating scent of human blood β and was applying small drops of the mixture to it, watching how it reacted. Scott had joined him after dinner, as he usually did, bringing a plate piled high with decedent foods with him. He had placed the plate at Legundo's side, and reminded him that he was always welcome to join him at the dinner table. Legs lied easily, that he had already eaten, and that he needed to focus on his work. Scott never took the cue to leave. Instead, the noble sat himself down on the couch, lounging comfortably, and easily picked up wherever their last conversation had left off.
The conversation that evening had dragged on long into the night. Despite his frustrations with the young man's eccentricities, Legundo had to admit he found Scott very easy to converse with. He was educated and quick witted, and matched Legundo blow for verbal blow. Scott seemed to take Legs' disinterest as a challenge, and every eye roll and heavy sigh was met with a further cheeky comment and a laugh. It was⦠frustratingly charming. But as night began to threaten to turn closer to morning, the conversation had been interjected with longs stretches of silence, until finally Legundo looked over his shoulder and saw that Scott's head was tipped back against the couch cushions, and his eyes were blinking so slowly they were more closed than open.
"You should get some sleep," he said softly. Scott lazily lifted a manicured brow at him. Legundo tried not to be endeared by the gesture. He gently set down the vial he was holding, and turned to face Scott fully.
"But, Doctor," Scott muttered, "I find myself simply too tired to walk. However will I make it to my bedchambers in this state?" The slur of his words was clearly performative, but he could not fake the bleariness of his eyes. Legs scoffed softly.
"I'm not carrying you, you fool," he said, and internally cringed at the fondness he heard creeping into his own voice. He shouldn't be letting himself grow attached like that. Even if he ignored everything else, Scott was so young, barely half Legundo's physical age. The flirtatious teasing was just that, teasing. An annoyance that he could endure. He couldn't let it get under his skin, couldn't let affection worm it's way into him. He was a monster, in more ways than one, and he could not inflict that on anyone else.
Scott smirked up at him from the couch, and Legundo clenched his jaw.
"Come now, Master Goldsmith," he said, once the initial swirl of emotion was sufficiently contained. "I will deign to escort you to your chambers, but you must walk on your own two feet."
He extended a gloved hand in offer towards the noble. Scott swung his legs gracefully off the couch, and placed his hand gently on Legundo's outstretched palm. The warmth of fresh blood seeped through the thick leather of Legs' gloves, and he clamped down the instinctual roll of hunger. Scott held heavy eye contact as he rose slowly to his feet, teal eyes sparkling with mischief even through his weariness. There was a different edge to the next wave of hunger that hit Legundo, and he shut that down just as firmly as the last.
Scott did not release his hand once he was on his feet. Legundo could not bring himself to separate them either.
"You are a kind man, Doctor," Scott muttered. There was an interesting inflection in the words, like it was something Scott was only just realising, and he didn't know how to feel about it. His eyes β those unnaturally bright and brilliantly sharp irises β searched Legundo's face, brow pinched with curiosity and confusion.
"I try to be," Legundo replied softly, weariness of his own beginning to seep into his bones.
Neither of them moved for a moment, until Scott slowly titled his chin. He was appraising Legundo, like he was fine portrait he wished to add to his collection. The scrutiny made Legs' skin crawl, but not in the way he expected. He felt Scott's gaze like trailing fingers across his skin, a caress of attention. Legundo did not like to be observed. The more people looked at him, the more likely they were to see the truth. Scott could obviously see the discomfort he was causing Legundo. After one more long look, the noble smiled and slowly, deliberately stepped back.
Legundo was almost drawn with him. He had not realised just how close they had become, until space appeared between them. He resisted the magnetic draw that was Scott Goldsmith. But only just.
Or so he thought.
.
A near millennium later, Legundo would look back on that moment as the point of no return.
Despite it all, despite the lies and the bloodshed and the fury, he would think back to those quite evenings. Before he had revealed the truth of his nature, and Scott had revealed the truth of his intentions. Before the kisses and the bites and the mistakes and the screaming matches. Back when he had been trying so desperately not to fall in love with Scott Goldsmith.
'You are a kind man,' Scott had said.
'You could have been, too,' Legundo still thought.
****
A/N: I'm gonna put the snippets I've written for this AU on AO3 at some point for archival purposes, just trying to figure out if I should post each as a separate fic in a series, or just as chapters of a single fic. They're all pretty short so I dunno if they justify having their own fics, but they're all different enough they could work individually. I dunno. Anyway, hope you enjoyed, I'm sure there'll be more, this au is BURNING in my brain rn
Idk man but the more time passes, the less I can see the vsmp finale as a real compromise in anything other than name. One (1) person walked out human, out of at least seven who wanted to. It feels like a token effort, which makes it really difficult to take the stated themes of redemption and cooperation and healing seriously. The vampires won, guys.
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AU where thralling someone causes them to act as whatever you want most out of them, instead of just whatever you command. And obviously, OBVIOUSLY Scott tells Owen to thrall Legundo, using the lie that it could make turning him easier, when really he just wants to stir the pot.
Owen only really wants Legundo to be Louis.
So after blood is traded, Legs begins to act exactly as Owen remembers Louis. Gentle. Soft. He doesnβt raise his voice. He invites Owen to his house, and they share tea.
Owenβs mind is constantly whirring between i) Legundo found out more about Louis and is doing this to mock me, ii) Louis is possessing Legundo, and iii) Legundo is the living reincarnation of Louis.
But eventually, Owen asks to turn Legundo again. And he says yes, of course, I would love to live eternally with you, my dove. And when heβs turned, the thrall is gone. And heβs just the Doc again.
Crack headcanon: The reason Owen is Like That is because he's the type of person to get hangry. And with the way vampiric hunger is...
He's hangry. All the time. If it could be sated he'd stop with the dramatic monologues and the 'everyone hates me' and 'everyone needs to die' but he can't. He can't.
(the rainbow is for "make a mercy out of me", which i adore)
Thank you for the ask!
π Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?
I don't think I have any WIPs that I would, like, intentionally bar myself from ever posting. I usually just lose steam or life happens and I forget about them.
π What inspired you to write make a mercy out of me?
With all the love in my heart, I can honestly say it was an overpowering desire to goddamn give the doc consequences for his fake-vampire stunt. So: arrow through the chest it was <3
(I'd also had four intruder alarms at work that week, so those first few paragraphs? I was drawing explicitly from my experience of getting up at 2am, and dealt with it the only way I knew how: by putting a blorbo through the same suffering)
π° Name one of your fave comfort fics (doesnβt have to be your all time fave)
okay. okay, look, I know comfort is usually about soft, reassuring fics, but whatever they put in vsmp, reading fluffy fics just doesn't work for me, so one of my "re-read when having a bad day" fics is Reversal by @badalloc (look. it's comfort for me. i didn't say it was comfort for the characters) (anyway, I take a lot of comfort in putting characters through the meat grinder)
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π What inspired you to write [insert fic here]?
In lieu of an [insert fic here] I'm gonna go with Bloodlines, because that has a fairly clear memory for me.
Bloodlines began with me going "I wonder how Morcant can run an estate/human life while being immortal?"
I had also recently started reading Dracula, which includes the titular vampire regaining youth through blood-drinking... The two pieces slotted together, and the rest is history :D
π€ What is the hardest part of writing fic?
oh god, many things
One of the things that can scupper me, though, are first lines. Often, I can't start a fic/chapter/story until I have the first line - once that clicks into place, the rest will usually follow suit. I'll literally have the whole piece plotted out but, alas! no first line: no story.
π What is a headcanon you have about your own work?
most of my headcanons become canon within the work, I'm not subtle
One of the things I forget is that Morcant is never confirmed to be an Elder running at low-level vampirism, or even a vampire at all - that headcanon is just. there in pretty much all of my works.
π₯ What is your fave fic to receive comments/messages on?
The Work-Afterlife Balance :D Everyone is just having such a fun time in the comments, it feels like I'm hosting a party and listening to the laughter from the kitchen <3 plus, I've been pleasantly surprised with how good people have been at picking up the subtler references/moments.
Human. Fire. Blood. Silver. A dozen scented signals fire through his senses, each demanding action, each pulling him in a different direction.
In lieu of any cohesive instinct, he goes for the mortal's throat.
And the mortal side-steps him.
βοΈ Do you write every day?
I try to - not because of any goals or 'keeping my hand in', but just because it helps clear my head. Unfortunately, I don't have much fanfic to show for it atm, because I've been working on OG projects, sorry!
π Who is one character you havenβt yet written for that you would like to?
Apo. Her vsmp pov has been on my watch list for aaaages, and has only been waylaid by the fact that I want to watch it properly but it's a bit of a time commitment. But one of these days her character will *click* for me, and then it's all over :D
π What do you like most about your own writing?
Most about it? I guess I like my versatility. Like, I won't always succeed, but I love the fact that I feel confident enough in my writing to try new styles, new formats, experimental POVs...
(Notoriously, I tend to drop a hobby once I understand the concept, so being able to continually set new challenges has been a major reason why I still write, while other hobbies are left mouldering in cupboards.)
π§ Whatβs an idea you have that you canβt quite call a WIP yet?
I have a ficlet idea where Legs finds a familiar-looking bat in the eaves of his clinic and has a one-sided conversation with it. I need to rewatch vsmp though, to know where to set it.
π Β What time of day do you prefer to write? Why?
I used to be a big nighttime writer (y'know the adage: write drunk, edit sober? yeah, write sleepy, edit awake was my motto) but now I work full-time, tragically I have to maintain sleeping habits. So, nowadays, a lot of my fics (especially the one-shots) are written while I'm walking to/from work. It's efficient!
i don't have any pyro ship fics on the go so i'm probably safe
Oh, chapter 2 of the Tabula rasa fic, for sure. Part 4, where Cleo uhhh does a harm? Yeah, you try googling different ways to figure out if dunking someone in water will help a slit throat bleed out quicker, and try not to look sus.
(annoyingly, cold water will actually slow bleeding, due to the arteries restricting from the cold. I had to eventually conclude that vampires don't have that aid, so it didn't matter)
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There is no need for force, after all. Not when humans are already hardwired to seek out whichever voice in the room sounds the most persuasive. Their lives are all so fragile. So difficult. So many of them only want for someone to tell them that they can rest and they donβt need to fight or think or struggle so hard.
So I decided to steal from my own OCs a bit for this, and went; what if we took Scottβs lie about his mother to be the truth?
So we have human Scott - extremely rich noble - and his dying mother. Heβs paid every medical person he comes across absurd amounts of money to figure out whatβs wrong with her, and none of them have had an answer.
then he hears about Dr Legundo - the healer who will take no payment, but has been able to cure the incurable. Scott tracks him down, and brings him to Oakhurst.
Legundo stays at the Castle for months, trying to cure the Lady Goldsmith. (I dunno whatβs wrong with her, maybe some horrific autoimmune thing that medieval medicine has no hope of even understanding). When it becomes clear there is no other option, Legundo wants to discuss his vampiric cure with her. Scott is the equivalent of her medical proxy, so he is present for the discussion.
Scott has, of course, been attempting to woo the Doctor for the months that he has been there. And yeah it pisses Legs off, but also he keep seeing hints of genuine softness from Scott - this young man who is doing Everything He Can to save his mother. Or so Legs thinks.
Scott gave up on his mother years ago. Heβs been searching for eternal life for himself. His mother is just a tool to lure in someone who can offer it to him. And now he has him.
I havenβt thought out the exact details of Scottβs turning and how he and Legs end up married, but it would be full of Classic Goldsmith Manipulation, and Legsβ desperation to find goodness in people being used against him.
The eventually break up is catastrophic. The entirety of Oakhurst is slaughtered in the crossfire.
Legundo now has two towns on his conscience, and an incredibly powerful fledgling ex husband.
