#fic i started posting beginning of the year. i'd love to write just. something. for myself. to prove i can still do it. but it's just.

[amaraudermind]

I know that I’m not actually worse at writing than I used to be but also every time I want to start writing it’s like pulling teeth to get a single sentence out

[dixons-sunshine]

js read your shopping spree and dying for your haircut fics and omg

can u pretty please, with a bow on top, write another part to that series or like an au where they get separated at the fall of the world and a few season later (preferably that prison era of daryl he was so fawking sexy there like omg) they found each other again and i want some build up to their reunion yk like someone else finds r and brings them in and some ppl kinda chatting abt the new girl or wtv and dars not rlly gaf cuz he kinda getting tired of trying to find r (realistically i don’t think he’d give up easily but let’s js pretend yk) but then they see each other and they’re like omfg the love of my life’s here and safe and like i need that glenn and maggie type reunion but like tenfold bc r and dar alr loved and knew each other before the fall yk and like yeah😣

idky but i’m a sucker for “r and daryl had a relationship beforehand, got separated, and reunited” trope (?) fic, blurb shit and you’d literally be godsent if u wrote this oml

I Found You | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: When the dead started to rise and the world went to hell, Daryl got seperated from you, the love of his life. After over a year of searching for you and finding no evidence of your survival, Daryl was beginning to give up and count his losses. One day, Carol stumbled upon a wounded woman while out on a run with Glenn, and the two of them decide to accept you into the prison. Little did they know, that would end up being one of the best decisions they could've ever made.

Genre: Angst to fluff.

Era: Prison, pre season 4, post season 3.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, death, mentions of attempted sexual assault (not descriptive)

Word count: 4.3k

A/n: Thank you so much for the request! I've decided to write the au since there's already a part three for the SSHD (Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams) universe in the works, but this request was way too good to not write. I hope you like it! And I absolutely agree with you. There's something about prison era Daryl that just hits different. He was on another level completely.

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests.

(Just thought I'd say that both third- and second person is used. I referred to the reader in third  person when Glenn and Carol first met her, but it soon shifts to second person when she introduced herself. Just thought I'd let y'all know the shift is intentional.)

—

“Okay, so I can't guess what you did before all of this correctly, but I bet there is something that I will be right about.”

Daryl looked at Zach skeptically as they trudged through the abandoned store, looking for supplies to bring back to the prison. “Yeah? Wha's tha'?”

“You're brooding, quiet, you like to keep to yourself,” Zach started, leaning nonchalantly against one of the shelves while he watched the archer place multiple different packs and boxes into his bag. “The way you act most of the time would suggest you've never been in a relationship before, but there are clear signs that you were with someone before all of this.”

Daryl stiffened for a moment, his hand lingering above a pack, before regaining his composure and continuing his task. “Wha' signs?”

“Well, for one, you know exactly what kind of tampons and pads to get for the ladies at the prison. I would've just dumped everything in and have them sort through it, but you are only taking specific brands,” Zach pointed out, motioning to the box of tampons Daryl had just put back onto the shelf.

When Daryl didn't reply, Zach took that as his cue to continue. “And while we're on the topic of periods, you seem to know exactly what to get the girls for the pain and what to do to curve their bad tempers. What guy would know that if he didn't have a girlfriend before all of this? And to top it all off, and this is totally unrelated to everything I just said, I've seen that locket necklace you keep in your pocket. It's pretty worn out and faded, but you can definitely tell it's something from this generation, so it can't be something that was passed down from a relative, so that brings me to my conclusion. You, Daryl Dixon, had a girl before all of this.”

Daryl sighed, shutting his eyes tightly as he willed the onslaught of memories away. Memories that were too painful to think of, memories that did nothing but remind the archer of his failure. His failure at finding you, the love of his life, after the dead started walking. A failure he had to live with for as long as he remained alive.

Daryl opened his eyes and turned abruptly, leaving the young man behind him as he stalked towards the exit, his bag slung over his shoulder. Zach hurriedly caught up to him, struggling to keep at a steady pace beside him as Daryl strode quickly, wanting to put some distance between him and Zach.

“Woah, man! Slow down!” Zach complained, jogging to keep up with him. “Was it because I brought up the girl thing? I didn't realise it was a touchy subject.”

“It ain't none of yer damn business,” Daryl grumbled under his breath, stalking over to the truck him and Zach were using that day.

“Daryl! Come on, man. It's not that deep.”

Daryl gritted his teeth as he opened up the driver's side door of the truck, throwing his bag into the back before climbing inside. He started up the truck and revved the engine, a warning sign to Zach that he was about to leave, with or without him.

Zach hurriedly scurried into the passenger seat, barely having time to close the door before Daryl started speeding off. He gripped the edge of his seat, sending Daryl an exasperated look.

“Daryl, what the hell? Calm down!” he exclaimed, unnerved by the archer's sudden burst of fury. He'd seen Daryl angry before, but it was never directed towards him. It was downright scary.

“'M calm,” Daryl replied through gritted teeth, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“That's what you call calm?!” Zach exclaimed, motioning out towards the road. “You're driving like a maniac! Slow down!”

Daryl simply ignored the man, keeping his eyes trained on the road. Memories of you unwillingly flooded his mind. Memories of your smile, your laugh and your beautiful eyes. Memories of the calm mornings you'd spend with the archer in your shared sad excuse for an apartment where the hot water was a joke. Memories where you'd both stand under the cold water of the shower, Daryl embracing you from behind in an attempt to make the cold water bearable for you. Memories of your loving touch on his skin, your fingers lightly tracing over the scars on his back as you whispered reassuring things into his ear, assuring him that his father's abuse had nothing to do with him, that it wasn't his fault that any of that happened to him.

The more Daryl's mind wandered, the more he remembered some of the bad memories. All those arguments you had with him over some of his escapades with Merle, telling him that it would only get him into trouble, flooded his mind. One of those arguments ended up being the reason he got seperated from you in the first place.

Merle had wanted to go do some drug deal and had barged into your apartment, practically dragging Daryl from your bed. You had begged him not to go, arguing with him that it was a bad idea and that something would go wrong this time. He remembered being so angry at you for insisting during that argument that Merle wasn't good for him, that he needed to cut back on seeing him or set some boundaries with him. He had stormed out of the apartment without so much as a goodbye, and now he regretted it more than he's regretted anything before in his life.

Daryl blamed himself daily for not having listened to you that day. If he had, he never would've been seperated from you and you would've been safe by his side. He longed to have you by his side again, to tell you that he was sorry and that he loved you. However, even after all this time of searching, going out for extended periods of time to look for signs of you, it was to no avail. You were gone, and it was all his fault.

“Daryl? Are... you okay?”

Daryl snapped back to reality at the sound of Zach's concerned voice. He felt a droplet of water roll down his cheek and he hurriedly wiped it away, realising that he was crying. He hadn't even realised that tears had started to well up in his eyes, so immersed was he in his own thoughts.

“'M fine,” Daryl insisted, wiping his eyes hurriedly as he willed the tears away.

Zach furrowed his eyebrows, before realisation dawned on him. “You did have a girl before all of this. You lost her, didn't you?” he asked sympathetically.

Daryl hesitantly nodded, swallowing in an attempt to get rid of the lump in his throat. “I didn't lose her,” he began, bringing the truck to a halt in front of the prison gates as he waited for someone to open them.

“I don't know if she's even dead at all. She's just... Gone.”

—

“What are we looking for, exactly?” Glenn asked Carol as they scanned over the shelving of an abandoned pharmacy, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Carol sighed as she looked upon yet another empty shelf, its medical contents a thing of the past. “Anything medical. With all the new people we've been taking in, the supplies we have aren't going to be enough.”

“Okay,” Glenn drawled hesitantly. “But it doesn't look like there's anything worth scavenging here.”

“Let's just do a once over before we check the back. If there's nothing, we head on back. It's getting late,” Carol instructed. Glenn nodded, and the two of them dispersed to sweep through the small store once more.

“So,” Glenn started. “Is it just me, or has Daryl been more grumpy than usual?”

Carol hummed in agreement. “He has. He gets angry at the smallest of things lately.”

“Do you know why?”

“No,” Carol said, shaking her head. “I've asked him, but he won't say anything. Just tells me to mind my own business. It's really odd. He's more like he was back at the quarry. More closed off and snappy and I don't know why.”

“It's ever since he came back from that run with Zach a week ago,” Glenn replied, meeting up with the Carol again to go into the back room. “I've asked Zach if he knows why, but he refused to say anything. Says it's not his place to say.”

Carol frowned, opening the door that lead into the back room. “That's odd. So that means something—”

“Stay right there. Don't move another inch or I swear to god I'll shoot.”

Both Carol and Glenn froze in their tracks. They looked up and locked eyes with a woman, who's eyes were fiery as they darted between them.

“Names. Now. And weapons on the ground.”

“Okay, alright,” Carol responded, trying to diffuse the situation. She slowly lowered her gun and knife to the ground, urging Glenn to do the same. “I'm Carol, and this is Glenn. Now before we answer anymore questions, what's your name?”

The woman hesitated for a moment. “Y/n. What are you doing here?”

“We were looking for some supplies,” Carol spoke truthfully, eyeing the gun aimed at her carefully. “We're running low on medical things.”

After a couple of long, tense moments, with you scanning them from head to toe, you nodded to yourself after spotting something. Deciding to trust them for now, you slowly lowered the gun. However, you quietly hissed in pain, quickly clutching your side as you stumbled to regain your balance. After you steadied yourself, you limped over to your bag and grabbed a few things before handing them over to Carol and Glenn.

“Here. Hope these help. The place was ransacked when I got here. Wasn't a lot left to clear out.”

“Thank you, but we need more than this. This isn't going to last us long,” Carol responded, placing the items into her bag.

“No offence, lady, but I think I need the supplies more than you do at the moment. And I gave you more than half already. I can't spare more,” you said, clutching your side tightly.

“What happened?” Glenn asked, pointing to the your side, unable to stop his curiosity from seeping through.

“Flesh eaters,” you replied nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders. “I was fighting a bunch of them when one lunged at me from the side. It toppled me through a broken window, and a shard sliced me.”

“Don't you have a group? Couldn't they help you?” Glenn questioned.

“Nope. I've been on my own since this whole thing started. I guess I should probably find a group, though. Things like this wouldn't happen if I had backup.”

You gingerly lifted your shirt, and both Carol and Glenn grimaced at the painful sight. The wound was deep and oozing blood. It would definitely need stitches, as well as someone to remove the remaining fragments of glass that still painfully stuck out of the wound. It was terrible. You wouldn't be able to get it all out without a professional.

Suddenly, an idea struck Carol. “You gave us some of the supplies you scavenged without even knowing us. Why?”

“Well, you didn't try to kill me, even after I held you at gunpoint. And by the looks of it, you guys have a group and are set up somewhere. Figured I should do the honourable thing and offer up some medical things if there's kids involved.”

“How do you know there's kids?” Glenn asked, confused.

“I can see the toys in your bag,” you pointed out, motioning to the toy truck that stuck out of the top of his bag. “Figured that adults wouldn't be playing with toy trucks while the world was ending.”

“Still, why would you? You don't owe us anything,” Carol questioned, though her mind was already set on one thing.

“Some might call me naive, but I hope that by doing some good in this fucked up world, karma will decide to do something good for me. That probably makes me stupid as shit, huh?” you replied, laughing before wincing at the pain that shot through your side at the small action.

Carol smiled at you. “We have a group set up not too far from here, at the prison. You can join if you want, but you have to answer three questions first.”

You raised your eyebrows at her. “Three questions? That's it?”

“Yeah.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Alright, shoot.”

“How many walkers have you killed?” Carol began, watching you closely.

“A lot. Too many to keep track of at this point.”

“How many people have you killed?”

You hesitated for a moment, guilt creeping up on you. “Three.”

“Why?”

“Two of them were bit. They asked me to kill them. The other one... That bastard tried to rape me. I wouldn't let him.”

“I'm sorry,” Glenn said sympathetically.

“It's fine. I'm fine,” you waved him off, before turning your attention back to Carol. “How'd I do? Satisfactory enough?”

Carol nodded. “For me, yes. You'll still need to meet the leader and have him evaluate you, but I think you'll be alright. You'll fit in just fine.”

“Hopefully,” you laughed nervously, instantly paying the price for it with a sharp pain shooting up your side, making you visibly wince.

“Come on, let's get going. We have a doctor who can get that checked out for you,” Glenn prompted. He walked over to you and grabbed your bag, stopping your protest instantly. “It's fine, I've got it. One extra bag won't kill me.”

Together, all of you made your way out of the pharmacy and over to their car. You got settled in the back while Carol and Glenn got into the front, and before long you were setting off to the prison. Your eyes were beginning to droop, but Glenn seemed eager to get to know the new recruit better.

“What were you doing out there on your own anyway?”

“I was looking for my boyfriend. I was hoping that he might still be alive.”

“No luck?” he asked.

“No,” you shook your head, pursing your lips. “I'm beginning to think I might never find him, if he's even still alive.”

“Never say never,” Glenn encouraged you. “You'll find him someday, I know it.”

“I really hope so.”

—

“Have you seen that new chick Glenn and Carol brought back? She's a real looker.”

“I know, right? You think she's into blondes?”

“Even if she was, I doubt she'd go for your scrawny ass.”

“Easy, boys. She might not even be into guys. I could have a shot with her for all you know.”

Daryl groaned inwardly as he entered the cellblock. The new girl that Glenn and Carol brought in the day before was seemingly the hottest topic of discussion amongst everyone and he couldn't escape it, no matter where he tried to run to. Nobody, apart from Glenn, Carol, Rick and Hershel have officially met her, yet everybody had seemingly already formed an opinion about her. Although there were a lot of different opinions, everyone seemingly agreed on one thing; the new girl was hotter than hell.

Daryl was the only guy in the entire prison that hadn't seen her yet. He was out hunting when Carol and Glenn brought her back and he hasn't bothered to go out of his way to introduce himself to her ever since he got back. He'd meet her soon enough and he wasn't hoping to make friends with her. The more people he managed to keep at arm's length, the better.

“Yo, Daryl. What do you think about the new chick?” a guy called Mitchell asked him, snapping him from his thoughts.

Daryl shrugged. “Ain't met her yet,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Okay, but have you seen her?” another guy called Ronnie asked. “I'm telling you, man, hotter than the sun on a summer day. I'm hoping she'll let me hit at least once.”

“How 'bout ya leave the poor girl alone?” Daryl snapped, turning to face the group that was walking with him. “She ain't even been here two days and y'all are already ogling her like she's some prize to be won. Have some more respect.”

“Jeez,” Mitchell whistled. “What's got your panties up in a bunch?”

“Nothin',” Daryl muttered angrily, turning around to walk further into the cellblock. “Jus' wanna get this fuckin' job done and all y'all can do is yap 'bout some girl ya dun' even know properly. I dun' give two flyin' shits 'bout who or wha' ya talk 'bout, but do it after the job's done. Y'all ain't free loadin' here. Do yer job, earn yer keep.”

“Sorry,” a girl called Ariana muttered, sending him an apologetic look. “What do you need us to do?”

“Take those planks over there and take em to the guard tower. Rick wants to fortify it and wants it done by the end of the week.”

“What are you gonna do?” Ronnie asked, crossing his arms as he sized Daryl up.

Daryl glared at him and squared his shoulders, looking down on his shorter, scrawny frame. “Hershel needs help with somethin'. I believe ya can understand tha' if the doctor needs somethin' done, it's considered top priority?”

Ronnie shrunk under Daryl's intense glare, nodding quickly. “Yeah, of course.”

“Great.”

With that, Daryl turned on his heel and set off to find Hershel. He didn't have to search far, however, because Hershel halted him before he could go outside.

“Daryl, over here,” the old man called after him, halting him in his tracks.

Daryl turned and walked over to Hershel, nodding at him respectfully. “Wha' ya need, Doc?”

“I'm sure you've heard of the girl Carol and Glenn brought back yesterday by now?” Hershel questioned, chuckling at the slight groan Daryl emitted.

“Who hasn't? Apparently she's really good lookin'. Her looks has been all people has to say 'bout her.”

Hershel nodded. “Unfortunately, that is true. Only Rick, Glenn, Carol and myself has had the pleasure of meeting her personally up until this point. She's a lovely woman. Had no problem that there wasn't anything to ease the pain when I had to stitch her side and she's more than willing to get up and start working to earn her keep. She won't be able to for at least another day or so since her side needs to heal up a bit first, but Carol and Glenn did good with bringing her back. She'll fit right in.”

“Good,” Daryl nodded. “She a good fighter?”

“From what I understand, she's been out on her own since the beginning. She's not dead yet, so I'd say she's alright,” Hershel replied, adjusting on his crutches.

“Alrigh', now enough 'bout her. Wha' did ya need me to do?”

Hershel gave him an encouraging pat on the back, confusing the archer. “You're going to be one of the very few people who gets to say they met the new girl for the next couple of days. I was hoping you could help her fix her bunk? One of the legs on the bunk broke and she's dead set on repairing it. She won't let me help because she keeps insisting I've done enough for her, so I told her I would send someone else to help. She'll be expecting you.”

Daryl pursed his lips but nodded, parting ways with the older man. He walked over to the cell that Hershel had pointed towards and stopped at the doorway, hesitating to make his presence known.

You had your back turned towards the door, hunched over as you inspected the leg of the bunk. You weren't aware of the archer that stood a few feet behind you, engrossed entirely in your own thoughts. That was, until he spoke up behind you.

“Hey. Hershel said ya needed help?”

You froze at the voice, willing the supposed hallucination away. You slowly rose to your feet and turned, locking eyes with the one person you've been searching for since the world went to hell—your boyfriend, Daryl Dixon.

The moment Daryl locked eyes with you, a whirlwind of emotions flooded his being. Relief, love, happiness, wonder, sadness, confusion and so much more that he couldn't decipher. Although his first instinct was to wrap you in his arms and never let go of you again, he hesitated, refusing to believe you were real. He took a step back, his eyes wide as he looked at you.

You stared back at him with equal amounts of disbelief. You took a hesitant step forward. “Daryl?” you whispered. The man in front of you looked slightly different; a little bit older and his hair was longer, but there was no mistaking it. The man in front of you was Daryl.

Daryl remained silent, his eyes locked on you as you continued to take agonizingly slow steps towards him. He watched as you stopped in front of him and hesitantly raised your hand, bringing it to rest on his cheek. Daryl instantly melted into your familiar soft touch, and that was all the confirmation he needed. Without another thought, he gently grabbed you and pulled you into his arms, tightly clinging to you as he pressed multiple kisses to the top of your head.

“Yer real,” he whispered, a laugh of amazement falling from his lips. “Yer real. Yer alive. Yer actually still alive.”

You laughed quietly against his chest as you held onto him tightly, never wanting to let go ever again. Your laughter soon turned into sobs, tears of relief and happiness falling from your eyes.

“I thought I'd never see you again,” you whispered through your tears, burying your face into his chest. “I thought you were dead, Dar.”

“'M here,” he whispered into your ear, a few tears of his own falling from his eyes. “'M alive. Yer alive. 'M never lettin' ya go ever again. 'M sorry I ever left tha' day in the first place.”

“It's okay. I'm sorry, too. I never should've asked you to cut Merle out of your life. He's your brother. It was unreasonable of me.”

“Nah, it wasn't,” he denied, placing another gentle kiss on the top of your head. “Ya were jus' lookin' out fer me. I never shoulda gotten mad at ya in the first place.”

“Let bygones be bygones?” you whispered against his chest.

Daryl chuckled before nodding. “Yeah, of course.”

The two of you held onto each other for a couple of moments longer until you pulled back. Daryl was about to voice his protest until you pressed your lips against his in an urgent kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms settled on your waist, pulling you closer into him as he kissed you back. There was no lustful hunger behind the kiss—there was only love and longing, two broken parts finally reuniting and mending together as one.

Daryl pulled back and placed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. “I missed ya so much,” he whispered, willing the lump in his throat to go away.

“I missed you too. More than you even know,” you replied, cupping Daryl's cheek with one of your hands. “But I found you. I finally found you.”

Daryl leaned into your touch before turning his head to kiss the palm of your hand. However, he soon pulled away from you and strode over to your bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

“C'mon,” he said, taking your hand in his as he pulled you to walk beside him.

“Where are we going?” you questioned, falling into step beside the man you loved.

“There ain't no need fer ya to sleep in there. Yer gonna sleep with me in my cell,” Daryl said simply, pulling you along to his cell.

You giggled but said nothing, silently following him into his cell. When he placed your bags down on the floor, Daryl placed a soft kiss on your lips before stalking out of the cell.

“Where are you going?” you called after him, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“'M gonna find tha' prick who objectified ya and teach him a lesson. Yer hot as fuck, yes, that much I can accept people sayin', but Ronnie implied he wanted to sleep with ya outrigh'. He's really gonna regret sayin' tha' in a few moments. Dun' even try to talk me outta it.”

“Hey, Dar?” you called after him, halting him in his tracks. “I love you.”

Daryl smiled at you. “I definitely love ya more.”

[maraschinomerry]

Rock Paper Scissors

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader, background Locklyle

Summary: George is your best friend, Lucy's convinced there's more to it but he's not your type... is he?

Content: friends to lovers, oblivious flirting, misunderstanding, light swearing and suggestive thoughts, kisses

A/N: it's officially 1 year since I posted my first Lockwood & Co fic!! Thank you all for making it such an incredible year and continuing to support my writing, it means the world to me ❤️ and thank you to the Multiverse of George for fuelling the buff!George fire 🔥 I've even made a montage so everyone can see the vision, plus the gif above of George swinging the chains he's definitely strong 💪

Word count: 4.2k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea @mischiefmanaged71 (let me know if you want adding or removing!)

Ever since you'd started working for Lockwood & Co, you and George had had the most playful rivalry.

It had started on the very first day, when you came for your interview. Lucy had welcomed you into the living room while George went to fetch the biscuits. After breezing through the tests, Lockwood gestured to the plate still being clutched by the other boy.

“Biscuit?”

You frowned at the boy in the armchair, who looked like the last thing he wanted to do was to share. “Am I supposed to fight you for them or something?”

George had the audacity to snort. “In your dreams.” But then he did offer you the plate, albeit reluctantly.

Once you got used to one another, you found that you actually got on really well and gradually he became your best friend, but by then you'd set a precedent that neither of you wanted to drop.

“We're heading out soon,” Lucy informed you both as she slid cups of tea across the table. She and Lockwood had an appointment with a client, leaving you and George behind to keep working. “Can one of you oil the chains ready for tonight?”

You turned to George; he was already looking at you. A gleam came to his eye.

“Rock paper scissors?”

“You bet,” you grinned, already raising your hand. It took a few attempts, as you'd done it so many times by now that the two of you knew what each other was planning before it happened, but eventually you lost. Sticking your tongue out, you picked up your cup and headed towards the basement. Lucy followed you down.

“Can I ask you something?” she began cautiously.

“Course you can.” It wasn't like Lucy to not just ask straight out. This was odd.

“What's going on with you and George?” This was definitely odd. “It feels like you've gone past teasing, you're almost flirting with each other.”

Your gaze flew to your friend, who had lingered on the stairs. Was she being serious? “It's not like that, Luce,” you replied, wondering if it was warm in the basement or if it was just you. “I love him to bits, but the same way I love all of you. He's just not my type.”

Her eyebrow quirked up at that. “You have a type?”

“Don't say that like you don't,” you hit back. “You and Lockwood are made for each other! And George is great, really, but I prefer guys a bit more… buff?”

Lucy nodded. “Interesting.” It was spoken with the air of someone who knew exactly why it was interesting and someone who was absolutely not going to explain why. “Well… just don't rule anything out, but please be careful. I love you both too and I'd hate to see either of you get hurt.”

It was touching to hear her so candid about her feelings for you both. “I won't, I promise.”

—

You always forgot how ridiculously heavy the chains were. Just trying to hoist them up to make sure you'd oiled all the way round each joint was a workout. It was only adrenaline that carried you through working with them on cases. Thank goodness you were almost finished - your arms were beginning to ache and you were sure you were coated in sweat.

“Need a hand?” George's voice drifted from the stairs. You hadn't heard him come down, probably drowned out by the clanking links and your strained grunts, but there he was, sitting on one of the lower steps and watching you in amusement.

“You mean you want me to dishonour the sacred pact of rock paper scissors?” You mimed fainting in shock, taking the opportunity to slump back on the pile of chains and let the tension dissipate from your shoulders.

He chuckled, climbing down the final few steps and holding out his hand. “Will the sacred pact allow a lunch break? I made soup.” He'd got you there and he knew it. You loved his soup. Grinning, you accepted his hand and he pulled you away from the cold, hard metal.

There were two steaming bowls already set out on the table when you got back to the kitchen, and beside yours was a plate of sandwiches, cut exactly how you liked them.

“You're the best.”

“I know,” George smirked. He was eating with one hand, the other scribbling away on the Thinking Cloth. As he became more engrossed, he leant further forwards, his dark curls flopping over his brow. It was fascinating watching him get so engrossed in his work, the whole world melting away around him. Once you finished eating, you glanced across and took his empty bowl from in front of him. He looked up sharply, snapped from wherever his thoughts had taken him.

“Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you,” you mumbled.

“No, it's fine. We should probably get packed.”

You followed him down to the basement and pulled your kit bags from the shelf. Set side by side on the table, you both began to load up.

“You can carry the chains,” you told him over your shoulder as you picked up a half-empty box of flares and emptied it into your bag.

“Hey, you're the one who lost!”

“Only for cleaning them, I've done my bit.”

He huffed, but gave you a smile as he made his way over to the mound of chains. Your eyes widened as he scooped up a whole length in one easy movement and gave them a quick shake loose. You'd spent nearly quarter of an hour trying to manoeuvre that section earlier.

“How the hell did you do that?”

“They're not that heavy,” he shrugged, then added with a cheeky raised eyebrow, “or at least only when you’re trying to clean them.”

You threw the empty cardboard box at his head with a laugh.

—

A week later, the four of you were nestled in the living room. Outside, rain battered against the windows, which were almost being shaken out of their frames by the driving wind. You'd never have guessed it was June; it felt more like January. The fire was lit in the hearth, the occasional crackle of wood splitting the only other sound.

Eventually, Lockwood broke the silence. “I hate to say it, but someone's going to have to go out. We've got no tea left and barely enough food to last until tonight. We can draw straws to make it fair.”

He needn't have bothered. You and George already had your fists raised. One, two, three, paper. One, two, three, rock. Scissors. Paper. Scissors. Rock. Round and round you went, the symmetry only fuelling your competitive natures.

“This is ridiculous,” Lucy muttered. She was right, of course.

You raised your fist higher, leaning forward in an offered challenge. “Right. Arm wrestle. Loser goes.”

George leaned in, resting his elbow on the table. Lockwood and Lucy exchanged wide-eyed glances.

“Y/n…” Lucy began, but you weren't listening. Your elbow was already mirroring George's, hand in his. You weren't sure why you'd expected the easy, flexible grip of holding a rapier, but his fingers were clenched firmly around the back of your hand. Lockwood moved closer and counted you down.

Your hand hit the table almost immediately.

It felt like all the air had left the room. You stared in shock at the boy opposite, the triumphant toothy grin that crinkled his eyes, the unexpected tightness of his shirt sleeve around his arm. The similar tightness in your chest. Interesting.

Some sort of realisation hit you, and your attention shifted to Lucy. The look she was giving you was almost as satisfied as George's. Warmth flooded your cheeks. You drew in a shaky breath as you struggled to drag your eyes away from George's arm, which was still pinning yours to the table. After a moment, you felt his fingers loosen and with some reluctance pulled your hand away. The silence in the room was palpable. Lucy was still watching you in amusement. Lockwood was watching Lucy, trying to figure out why she had that “I know something you don't” look again over a simple arm wrestle. George was watching you too, his expression slowly shifting from victory to concern.

“Y/n? You okay?” he asked quietly. Your thoughts rushed back into your body, snapping your attention into the real world.

“All good,” you mumbled. “Just preparing to get drenched. If I'm not back in 20 minutes, assume I've been blown to the other end of the country.” At least that got a laugh out of Lockwood. Hurriedly, you stood and made your way to the front door. Why had you agreed to this? It was your own fault, of course, for continuing this whole competitive thing with George, but how were you to know he was that strong? A flash of bicep clouded your vision again, and you reached for the door handle before you did something regrettable.

“Hold on,” a voice came behind you. It was him. Keep it together, you told yourself.

“If you're about to volunteer to take my place, go ahead,” you forced yourself to stay casual.

George moved closer, and you swallowed a lump in your throat. “I was actually going to question why you looked like you were about to leave without a coat.” He reached to the rack over your shoulder, lifting yours from its hook.

“That might help.” You knew you were blushing again, but prayed he thought it was just from embarrassment at being so forgetful. Definitely not how close he was, how he was holding your coat in the same hand that had been holding yours moments ago.

—

By the time you made it back to the house, you were soaked to the bone and almost shivering. It seemed like the storm wasn't going to let up until at least the next day, so you'd decided to stock up on plenty of food which had seemed like a great idea until you tried to carry it all home. You'd had to stop several times on the way, ducking into doorways and bus shelters to escape the weather as you swapped hands, flexed your shoulders or relieved your fingers from where the handles of the bags had started to make dents. When you finally made it, you held the door open with one foot as you negotiated the bags in and dropped them unceremoniously on the hall floor. George emerged from the living room, alone this time; Lockwood and Lucy must have gone upstairs or down to the basement.

“You look awful.”

“Aww thanks, you're not so bad yourself,” you joked dryly. Oh god, Lucy was right, you were almost flirting. A shiver ran through you and this time you hoped it was from the cold.

For a second, you thought you saw George's eyelids flutter. “Well, I uh… I ran you a bath to warm you back up. I'll put this away.” He hauled up the bags of shopping with barely a huff, and you tried to reason that he hadn't just carried them through a storm.

The water was soothingly warm and scented with lavender salts, the smell wafting up in delicate bursts as it swirled around, relaxing all the tension in your aching muscles. As you lay peacefully, you reflected on what had happened earlier. You weren't sure you'd ever felt… You couldn't even identify what feelings you'd experienced during the arm wrestle. Shock? Embarrassment? No. It was something else, something that Lucy had noticed immediately and had been trying to get through to your oblivious self. But she was wrong, wasn't she? You said it yourself, you weren't into George, even if he did now fulfil your main criteria. Then again, so did plenty of other guys you'd met. Kipps was quite well built, definitely had muscles, but that didn't mean you'd considered dating him. He wasn't like George though - smart, funny, thoughtful George. You couldn't imagine Kipps running you a bath or making your favourite lunch, or doing any number of the things that with George felt so natural. And there were all the little things you did for him that you'd never do for anyone else. No, there were no two ways about it: you were a pair in whatever capacity that meant.

Still didn't mean you fancied him, you told yourself.

You volunteered to help George with the dishes after dinner that night. It was always nice to be able to spend time just the two of you in sync, but tonight especially you figured it was a good idea to be around him in perfectly normal circumstances. You'd chat or enjoy the companionable quiet, you'd both be at ease; nothing could possibly happen, which would give you time to prove your feelings were a fluke.

George picked up his blue rubber gloves and tossed you a tea towel. He was dressed casually, in sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt (so large that the sleeves almost met his gloves at the elbow). The radio was playing quietly in the background, giving you a welcome distraction. Whenever a song you recognised came on, you'd start humming along or singing under your breath, and George would smile at you, sometimes even joining in. Your heart leapt a bit when he did, but that was nothing, you were just happy to be sharing this moment with your friend. He stuck an arm deeper into the sink to grab something at the bottom and made a small noise. Water had splashed up onto the cuff of his sleeve. You giggled at the look of disgust he made at the wet fabric sticking to his skin. The sound died in your throat when he took off his gloves, draped them on the side of the sink and rolled his sleeves up out of the way. You were so used to him being hidden behind his giant tops, or at the very least being in longer sleeved shirts, that seeing his bicep completely exposed was a shock in more ways than one. It wasn't much wonder he'd beaten you so easily at arm wrestling with muscles like that. You wondered whether it was just his arms that were so toned, or was the rest of him the same? Was he hiding a set of abs under that T-shirt too? Were his thighs-

“You okay?” George nudged you, and you hastily looked away.

“I was just…” Come on, come on, find an excuse, your brain urged. “...thinking how this means we both got wet clothes today, if you want me to put that top in with my washing after this?” God that was lame. Not much wonder he wasn't interested in you. That wasn't the point, you reminded yourself.

“Oh,” he smiled. “That'd be great, thanks.” He leant over to put a chopping board on the draining rack, and his bicep brushed against yours. A shockwave of warmth resonated through your whole body. Oh.

“Tell you what,” you forced yourself not to stammer, “are you okay to finish up here and I'll go and grab the laundry basket?” He nodded, and you tried not to fall over your own feet as you retreated to the hallway and sucked in a breath to calm your racing heart. Oh.

—

You cursed yourself for ever starting this. No, this was Lucy's fault for pointing it out. No, still your fault.

Being around George was becoming unbearable. Not for anything he'd done, rather the things he wasn't doing. He was carrying on exactly as he always had, that inimitable blend of playful and caring, and it was driving you mad not knowing whether he meant any of it in the way you wanted him to. You couldn't say anything, of course. If you were wrong, it would mess up the whole dynamic of the group. That would hurt almost as much as any rejection. But the more things went on, the more you took notice of the little moments between you, the more your feelings grew until it felt like they would crawl out of your chest.

“What the hell were you thinking?” George snapped at Lockwood. He and Lucy had been out on a case which went badly, and now the four of you were sitting at the dining table in the early hours, George applying butterfly stitches to a cut on Lockwood's arm and you cleaning a couple of scratches on Lucy's face. The misty gloom of the night outside the window reflected the atmosphere within.

“I was thinking,” Lockwood snapped back, “that we only had to handle a couple of Type Ones, according to your notes.”

“I told you those weren't finished!”

“Well maybe next time, don't get distracted.” Was it your imagination, or had his gaze flickered to you?

“Maybe next time,” George replied darkly, “do your own research.”

“Fine.” Lockwood pushed his chair back and stalked from the room. Lucy shot you both an apologetic grimace and followed.

George began pacing round the kitchen, hands twitching angrily. You stayed at the table, knowing it was best to give him the space to say or do whatever he needed to let his feelings out. You were there if he needed you.

“Can you believe him?” It was rhetorical, you'd heard him say it enough to know, so you waited for him to continue. “We end up in this situation almost every week, because he's too reckless to wait! I know he'd rather be in the action, but he'd be able to do all that more if he'd let me give him the right information first.”

You gently waded in, trying to be reassuring. “We all know how useful your research is; he just gets overeager, especially when Lucy's involved.”

“I know you know how important it is,” his words sent butterflies through you, “but Lockwood just…” He gave a frustrated huff. “Maybe I should make him do all the legwork for a change.” You tried very hard not to think about whether George's legs were as muscular as his arms.

“I'll support whatever you decide, but for what it's worth I think you should just talk to him.”

He sighed heavily, placing his hands flat on the table and allowing his head to drop. “You're right. Thanks, y/n.” The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, as did his deep brown eyes as he raised his head to look at you. You were already distracted by the tension which lingered in his shoulders, the rigidity of his arms as they supported his weight, the way he had leaned into the pose so much that now when he looked up his face was so close it almost filled your vision. You swallowed nervously.

“Any time. I- I have to go.” You stumbled up from your chair, ignoring George's confused stare and sounds of protest as you practically bolted from the room.

—

You lay on your bed in the attic, tears slowly soaking into the pillow you'd buried your face in. This was the end; it had to be. You couldn't carry on working for the agency like this. If George had shown any interest it would be okay - Lockwood and Lucy managed to balance being a couple who worked and lived together, there was no reason you two couldn't do the same, but it could never work being so one-sided. You'd just keep being weird, struggling to hold your nerve around the boy until it would start bleeding into cases and Lockwood would have no choice but to fire you for everyone's safety, if you hadn't already got one of you hurt by then. Not to mention the emotional hurt. It would happen either way, but at least if you walked away now you could control it.

“Y/n?” Lucy's voice came tentatively from the bottom of the steps. “George said you ran off, is everything okay?”

You flipped onto your back, drawing in shuddering breaths to recover from almost suffocating in the pillow. “You were right, Luce.” There was movement on the steps, but you kept your eyes on the ceiling. You couldn't bear to look at anyone right now. “I tried so hard to make sure neither of us got hurt, but George doesn't love me back and now I feel like even if I stay I'm going to lose him.”

The silence that followed dragged on longer than you could bear. Why wasn't she saying anything? You forced yourself to sit up.

George stood at the entrance to your room, eyes wide and lips parted.

You scrambled to your feet. “Shit! I mean, hi, um… how long have you been there?”

George continued to stare.

“I'm so sorry,” the words were rushing out of you now, “I just panicked but I don't want to make things weird so can we just pretend-”

“What do you mean, ‘doesn't love me back'?” he interrupted quietly.

You froze. There was no mistaking it: he'd heard you basically say you loved him and now there he was looking like the mere concept was so unbelievable, like the option hadn't even crossed his mind. Why would it? Time stretched on as you fought the urge to run again, as far as the ever-widening space between you would allow. Neither of you had moved, but you could feel the room expanding around you to make room for the bottomless pit you wanted to crawl into. “I…” you drew in a slow, deep breath, “I was fine just being friends but Lucy got in my head about you being exactly my type and now I think I'm actually flirting while you're still just pretending and I'm sorry…” Tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes and you hurriedly looked away, hoping he wouldn't see.

George stepped closer, and you shrunk even further into yourself. Your heart skipped a beat when he gently tilted your chin up to meet his surprisingly soft gaze. “I meant, why do you think I don't love you back?”

You faltered. Was he saying what you thought he was? “Well, I mean, I thought I'd made things super obvious and awkward but you didn't change so I thought you weren't interested.”

George's hand was still on your chin and his thumb rubbed soothingly across your cheek, wiping away the single tear that had spilled. “I thought you weren't interested! You normally go for those muscly gym guys so I figured I'd take whatever I could get with the arm wrestles and stuff, but then you started avoiding me so I thought you were done with it.”

A small laugh escaped you, and he looked at you in confusion. “Have you seen yourself?” Hesitantly, you raised a hand to his bicep, marvelling at finally being able to feel the muscle instead of just staring at it, and more amazed at the way the boy responded to your touch, drifting closer until you were barely inches apart.

“So then why did you run?” His voice was whisper soft against your face, eyes gazing down at you with an overwhelming blend of sincerity, bewilderment and something like longing. His cheeks were tinted as pink as you knew yours were.

“Got flustered.”

“Flustered? You? I don't believe you.” A smile tugged at the edge of his lips, the playfulness you were used to creeping back into his voice. It was such a relief to feel the tension dissipating from the room, to have your George back, that you buried your head in his shoulder with a giggle. He laughed too, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Oh, I see, you really want to do this? Okay, let's see ‘flustered y/n’ at their best.”

You yelped in surprise as his other arm hooked under your legs and swept you off your feet, your arms flying up round his neck for support. His arm was tense across your back but he looked the most relaxed he'd been since he walked in, and he shifted you closer to press a quick kiss to your lips before setting you down on the bed and sitting beside you.

“Lucy's going to be very smug about this, you know,” he nudged you.

“I know,” you whined, burying your face in your hands. “Rock paper scissors for who has to tell her.” George laughed again and placed his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer as you leant into the embrace.

“Is this just a ploy to get more hugs?”

“Is it working?”

In response, he brought his other arm around your waist and kissed your forehead. You smiled, leaning up to kiss him properly, and he reciprocated eagerly.

—

Lucy had left George alone on the steps to your room once you started your confession, giving you both a bit of privacy, and decided when he didn't come back downstairs immediately that things had either gone very badly or very well. She believed, and hoped, that it was the latter. Her suspicions were confirmed when she came to tell you she'd made breakfast and found you fast asleep, wrapped in George's arms.

[mrsbsmooth]

Smut writing 101: What I wish someone had told me when I first started.

So a conversation with @queen-of-boops and @longbobmckenzie sparked this post. Sarah already wrote a list of tips for writing a villa fic which was really helpful and people expanded on it a lot, so we thought it might be helpful to share a few tips for writing smut from some of the writers that do it a lot.

This is a long-ass post, because I've learned a lot over the years. So right at the end, there's a mini how-to guide for how to turn your smut from IKEA instruction manual into an explosion of sexual tension.

In addition, I would love for others to add on to this. This fandom is horrifically talented especially in writing brain-melting smut, and this is just what I could come up with in a few hours. But I'd love to hear from other people and have them add on extra bits!

A few resources before we begin:

The Smut Writer's Dictionary

The Ultimate Guide to Writing Smut Fic [HIGHLY recommend sections ii (Reaction words), iv (sexy alternatives to 'said'), xii (generally acceptable slang terms) and xvi (Some do's and don'ts of smut writing).]

OneLook Thesaurus is much better than other thesauruses at suggesting words for smut (I've found).

Now, on to the advice!

Tip #1 - It's normal to find it difficult and cringe to write. Own it.

Smut can be intimidating. It can feel really cringe and awkward and you might feel like people are judging you for it, and you know what? Sometimes they are. Smut isn't for everyone, and not everyone wants to read it, and that's why ratings and tags exist on Archive of Our Own. But you shouldn't be ashamed of writing it. Smut is fun and awesome and people who do like reading smut often love reading it, and will absolutely eat up whatever you give them. So go nuts. Write what you want to see, write what you want to read. That's advice for everything, but it's especially relevant for writing smut. Because if you feel awkward, it can sometimes show through. Lean into it. Let it happen. If you make yourself blush, you’re doing a fucking awesome job.

Tip #2 - Writer’s block.

I've written hundreds of thousands of words of pure, unadulterated filth, and I still struggle to push into it sometimes. The leadup comes so naturally, the tension builds, they're kissing, they're starting to touch each other, and then-- writer's block. I stare at the page and tap my fingers and go... huh. Same with writing really effectual kisses, or writing orgasms. There's all this pressure to make it the best written orgasm that's ever existed in the English language and it really doesn't need to be. Just put something down. 

If your doc looks like this:She clawed at the wall, knowing she was coming apart at the seams, the pressure building inside her. He didn’t let up. [orgasm bla bla bla]. She took a deep breath. She drew herself off him. She turned around. And she fell to her knees. [blowjob and he's loving it].

Then your doc looks just like mine.

Tip #3 - Pick the right words for everyone’s bits. 

See the resource above for suggestions! People have very different preferences when it comes to what to call a cock or whether or not to use the word ‘cunt’. Adjectives, adverbs– there are so many different opinions. Like personally, I have to physically restrain myself from throwing a fic across the room if it uses the word hole but that is my personal preference, and I am massively in the minority there. But my advice is threefold:

Read widely to find out what you like,

Write what you like,

Know your characters. 

Language will vary by fandom, by character, and by setting, and it’s an opportunity to really solidify their characterisation by carrying this into smut. An arrogant fuckwit who’s bedding his mortal enemy in a fit of hate-sex might use ‘into her slick cunt’, whereas a sweet, wholesome guy who’s desperately in love might say ‘pushed inside her’. But the more you read, and the more you write, the more you’ll find certain words or phrases you’re more comfortable with. 

The more smut you read, the better understanding you’ll have of what you like. The better understanding you have of what you like, the easier it will be to write. 

Tip #4 - POV can help you

Picking the right POV can make your life easier. For example, I once wrote a M/M/M threesome. That fic ended up being my very first ever 'first person POV' fic. Why? Because it turned one set of ‘his hand’ into ‘my hand’. Made it easier to understand the logistics of ‘his hand on his waist’, etc. Maybe it's lazy, maybe it's genius. I thought it was a bit of both. 

Consider whose POV is going to be the most impactful. If you’re not sure, try writing a paragraph from each. You’ll figure it out quite quickly. 

Tip #5 - Dialogue

You don’t have to include dialogue in your smut, but it can really help with pacing things and showing when the ‘end’ is approaching. Anyone who’s ever read any of my smut ever knows I’m a huge fan of cutting people off mid sentence in smut dialogue. 

They start out with “Oh yeah? You think you can make me X?” And the other person goes “Sweetheart, I’m going to make you X so hard you don’t Y for a Z.” 

But then by the end it’s “You feel–” and everyone’s gasping “Oh, fuck–” and sobbing out “I’m so– I’m gonna–” 

To me, this helps to build pacing and tension and show without telling that the end is approaching. But honestly, that’s just me– I enjoy reading people being very vocal in smut, so that’s how I write them. If that’s not your thing, then don’t do it. Simple as that. 

Tip #6 - Don’t skimp on the finale

Orgasms are hard to write. We all know that. There’s all this pressure to write the best most explosive monumental earth-shattering orgasm that’s ever existed in fiction, and honestly, it probably won’t be. But you still need to give it the time it deserves. 

As an avid consumer of smut, there is nothing more frustrating than five pages of buildup, incredible smut, tension rising, rising, rising– and then the orgasm happens in two lines and they’re immediately having a conversation afterwards. This is, no pun intended, the climax of your scene. Give it a paragraph. Hell, give it two paragraphs. Give it four. The climax is something you can write in excruciating detail and it will almost always be better for it. You can decide whether they come at the same time, or whether one comes immediately after the other (personal fav so we get to read two orgasms. Yay! Two cakes!) You can hyper-focus on every single sense. Here are some examples for writing orgasms:

Feel/Touch

The feeling travelling through the character’s body/ zones: up their spine, through their thighs, ‘deep inside them’

Their partner continuing to thrust/move

Their partner’s grip on their body, or maybe a kiss

Fingernails digging into shoulder or raking down a back

Legs squeezing

Smell

Personally I think this works better for the leadup and afterwards, but if you want this in here you absolutely can. Pheremones, cologne, aftershave, perfume, sweat, hair gel– whatever makes them smell like them. 

Sight

Their partner’s face and get detailed! Lips parting, brow scrunched, eyes closed, face in beautiful agony, wax poetic as fuck about their partner's face! What is hotter than making someone come and watching their face while you do it!??!!?

Darkness (blindfolded 👀)

‘White light behind their eyes’ is a cliche for a reason (fucking love this one)

Seeing stars/heaven see above lol

Taste

Harder to put into an orgasm but salty skin, lipgloss/lipstick? Whatever you want really

Sound

Big one. Their partner’s breath or moan as they watch/feel character’s peak

Their own breath/moans (or lack thereof can be just as effective, a ‘sudden silence’ as their breath catches in their throat can work WONDERS)

Bodies slapping together (doesn’t always work but when it does it does)

External sounds, especially rhythmic ones. A train clacking or a club baseline could simulate a heartbeat/shockwaves that you could lean into.

Pick multiple senses and focus on them. This will fill up a good bit of your climax writing. 

But you should also let them come down from it! DON’T SKIMP AFTERCARE (or after-hate??)

Tip #7 - Aftercare!

I missed this so often when I was new to writing smut and I didn’t realise how effective it could be! I always just faded to black immediately afterwards because I didn’t want to deal with the ‘cleanup’. And you don’t have to go into detail, but at the very least, give them a few minutes– a paragraph or so after the sex. The immediate aftermath of the act itself when you can really focus on the relationship. 

If they’re mortal enemies who’ve just fucked and are now horrified? Have them panting into each others’ skin. Their breaths suddenly become sharper and more reserved. They pull back from each other. Someone glares or someone says something snarky or awful. Someone showing aftercare or affection here (or being particularly cruel) reveals a lot about their character.

If they’re deeply in love and it’s comfortable for them to do so, maybe let them just lay there for a second, enjoying the feeling of each others’ bodies and letting breaths fall warmly and smiles tug at cheeks. Soft kisses, laying in silence, affection, etc. 

If they’re best mates who just fucked by accident, have the silence be awkward and have no one breathe at all. It’s tense and awkward and one has to ask the other to go get a towel or something and the other is like ‘oh, yeah, um, right’. 

Don’t skip this! It can be so impactful!

Overall Tip - Beware the ‘IKEA Instruction manual’!

The #1 most common mistake, in my opinion, in writing smut is ‘Insert Tab A into Slot B’. It’s things like, 

He moved his leg A, she touched B. He lifted her arm to C, holding her D’s, before slipping down to cup E. She ran her hands up F, touching his G, feeling his Hs caressing her I as she lifted her J and draped it over his K.

When I read this, I’m not focusing on the smut. I’m doing mental gymnastics trying to keep track of what position they’re in in my head because I’m assuming that it’s important. If you feel yourself doing this, stop. Refocus. Remember whose POV you’re in. This isn’t to say you should never tell the reader what’s happening. Just make sure to break it up a little!

Balance actions with senses. 

Let’s say you start with a basic action. (The example is buildup to smut, not actual smut, but the idea is the same)

“His hand moved from her knee to her thigh.”

-> Instead of writing what they’re doing, write what they can sense.

“His hand moved from her knee to her thigh” becomes “She felt his warm hand slide from her knee to her thigh.”

-> Now, make the phrase active. Instead of ‘she felt’, make it a description.

‘She felt his warm hand slide from her knee to her thigh’ becomes ‘Warmth erupted on her skin as his hand slid from her knee to her thigh’.

-> Give it details, and draw focus to them.

His fingertips skimmed her inner thigh as his hand slipped from her knee and moved higher. The silk of her skirt gave way to the warmth of a coarse, rough palm. Her skin seared beneath it. But every other inch of her shivered with anticipation.

In three steps, you’ve gone from IKEA tab A to slot B to a pretty good section for building tension. 

Examples of writing senses:

What can they feel? - ‘She’d never been so pent up, so wired, so on edge, and every flit of his practiced fingers on her waist had goosebumps shooting up her spine’.

What can they taste? - ‘She could taste the sweat on his skin, the coconut suncream on his shoulders, the salt of the ocean on the hints of stubble at his jawline.’

What can they smell? - ‘Her forehead pressed to his, that smokey, heady cologne engulfing her; curling her closer in time with his arms around her.’

What can they hear? - ‘He watched her every move, breathing quickly, so she looked him directly in the eyes as she undid his belt. Belt. Button. Zip purring as she tugged it down towards her.’

What can they see? - “Then, they opened, and he was treated to the sight of her looking up at him from her knees. Her eyes said fuck me. Her mouth said fuck me. Everything about her. Fuck me. Fuck me.”

I hope this was helpful in some way. I really would love to hear any other tips and tricks that writers would like to add to this. Obviously Mo and Sarah are already tagged, but this is a full and open free-for-all.

Add your thoughts! Add what you've learned! Add what you wish you knew!

I'd love to hear it <3

[joshdonnas]

do you have any j/d fic recs? :D

Absolutely!! This fandom is really blessed with some of the best writers I've seen, so there's a lot of really good content out there to read, but I'll list some of my favorites under the cut ☺️

FAVORITE AUTHORS 💛

I thought I'd start by listing some of my authors, I’ll also be listing some of my personal favorite fics from theirs down bellow, but any of their works are totally worth the read: 

jessbakescakes | sam_writes_fics | BeneathAnOrangeSky | thotsandfeelings | littlefoolswritings | thefinestmuffins | joshatella (shuuuliet) | hanyolo | flowersinapril | spooky_spacegirl | hufflepuffhermione | mikaylawrites

FAVORITE FICS (in no particular order) 💛

running, by andyoureturntome (work in progress, rated M): "Matt Santos is running for president. Josh and Donna are just running away. Augmented canon for seasons six and seven. Ventures into AU territory from 6x18 on." (when I say this is one of my favorite fics ever you have no idea how much I mean it. it’s honestly so good, a must read in my opinion. it’s still in progress, and it’s not updated very frequently , but it’s still so so worth it (here’s to hoping we’ll get a next chapter soon!!).

the other side of the door, by sam_writes_fics (finished, rated M): "Donna wanders out of the bathroom, baffled by how late it is for the hundredth night in a row, and she drapes her coat over a chair before moving to plug in her cell phone. The blinking light catches her attention, and she flips it open. One missed call. From Josh. Perfect. Post-ep for 7x13: The Cold." (I honestly read this one every time I watch the cold)

say you’ll never let them tear us apart, by hanyolo (finished, rated M): "what would it be like in the santos era for josh and donna to get media coverage as a couple?"

love grows (where my donnatella goes), by sam_writes_fics (finished, rated T): "the first year of the santos administration in four parts"

how i love the view when i'm beside you, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated E): "Josh and Donna on Valentine's Day; Chiefs of Staff era J/D"

cutting me open then healing me fine, by hufflepuffhermione (finished, rated T): "Josh and Donna are in the press room when it gets shot at, and the trajectory of a bullet changes the trajectory of their lives. Evidence of Things Not Seen AU."

there ain’t no need to go outside, by mikaylawrites (finished, rated E): "A lazy, rainy morning at home."

even cnn is wrong, sometimes, by BeneathAnOrangeSky (finished, rated M): "She snakes her hand between them, high instead of low, wrapping it around his bowtie. Starts to pull. And it’s this that snaps him out of it. Because Josh Lyman isn’t a press secretary and he isn’t a communications director and he isn’t Sam or Toby and he sure as hell isn’t Will, but he’s spent enough time around enough writers to appreciate the art of analogy (at the end of the night you wanna be able to pull it open like tony bennett), to recognize symmetry (donna? my tie’s falling apart), to understand that codas don’t exist merely in cello suites or stump speeches; that life makes space for sartorial bookends, too. Like bowties being tied, then untied." (utterly obsessed with the way this author writes)

gather ye rosebuds, by thefinestmuffins (finished, rated E): "A one and done smutshot, canon-divergent from 20 Hours in LA, in which Josh realizes where his rosebuds are and goes back to his hotel room to gather them."

we've been living on a fault line, by sam_writes_fics (finished, rated T): "6x02: Josh spends five days at Camp David, and every night all he thinks about is Donna."

burning slowly, my one and only, by thotsandfeelings (finished, rated T): "I can't stop thinking about you."

sacred new beginnings, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated G): " But now, he doesn’t need her anymore – or he shouldn’t, anyway. So she’ll go back to her apartment, and he’ll go back to work, and things will go back to normal, whatever the hell that means. There’s something about that idea that makes his stomach churn."

an act of charity, by thatTWWgirl (finished, rated T): "A date with the White House Deputy Chief of Staff is put up for auction at the First Lady's fundraiser, and he's not too happy about it."

domestic days, by spooky_spacegirl (finished, rated G): "One day Josh and Donna look around and realize that, somewhere along the line, they have slipped into something that can only be described as Domesticated. One-Shot collection. Post-Canon." (so so so cute, never fails to bring a smile to my face)

this is the wonder (that's keeping the stars apart), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (work in progress, rated T): "A soulmate AU".

I want It all or nothing, no more in between, by scarmophogoghs (finished, rated E): "Want to go to Hawai'i? With me? Please?” (huuuge Hawaii fit we all cheered)

stuck with nowhere to go, by littlefoolswritings (finished, rated E): "what if it was only Josh and Donna who'd been left behind by the motorcade? just the two of them?)" (I love this one my god)

a pathological avoidance thing, by yanak324 (finished, rated M): "Josh isn’t sure what to make of the lack of surprise on the President-elect’s face when he explains why he’s taking time off. He has bigger fish to fry though." (this one is from Josh's POV, and this one is from Donna's!)

when a woman loves a man (who loves a woman), by BeneathAnOrangeSky (finished, rated M): "“You’re sensitive. It’s sweet.” She bites back a smile at the image she’s evoked. Everyone thinks they know the real Josh Lyman. Bartlet’s bulldog, political wunderkind, the man behind Washington’s curtain. But they don’t know him like this. She brushes a sweaty tangle of hair from his forehead and pretends not to notice when he leans into her touch. No, this side of him is reserved just for her. His mouth opens in surprise, voice pitching up a notch, “I am n—” “Your system,” she amends. “Your system is sensitive.”"

of the united states, by violet_storms (finished, rated G): "Fifty states, fifty sentences, fifty snapshots of Josh and Donna falling in love on the campaign trail."

on the line, by hufflepuffhermione (finished, rated G): "Josh and Donna and a pathological inability to hang up the phone."

you can run (but only so far), by swancharmings (finished, rated M): "The room is quaint, if a bit tacky, one sad sprig of holly greeting them at the door. A fine representation of how she feels this Christmas."

love is the only thing, by mikaylawrites (finished, rated T): "The Moss-Lyman girls read Little Women; Josh has a lot of feelings."

it was like autumn, looking at her, by cmbing (finished, rated T): "His eyelids flutter open, gentler than usual. Blearily, he catches the alarm clock blinking a red 7:48 a.m. If this were five years ago, he would already be on his third cup of coffee. If this were five months ago, he never would have made it to bed in the first place. But it’s now—and he wraps his arm tighter around Donna’s waist."

it's paradise as long as I'm with you, by thotsandfeelings (finished, rated E): "Hawaii."

only bought this dress so you could take it off, by hanyolo (finished, rated M): "josh has a thing for donna in red (as he should)"

nothing that i wouldn't do (to make you feel my love), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (finished, rated T): "Josh re-arranges his priorities. A Gaza hospital fix-it fic." (I'm always thinking about this one)

hell was the journey but it brought me heaven, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated T): "On the drive, it starts to hit him. Leah was born on the anniversary of the Rosslyn shooting. What would this mean for him? Leah deserved a father who wouldn’t be absolutely miserable on his daughter’s birthday every year. Of course, he’d love to think that her birth could erase all of the negative feelings he’s ever had toward this day, that it could make all of the anxiety and trauma melt away. But if he couldn’t pull it together on the day she was born, the day she came into the world, what evidence does he have to support the idea that next year will be better? Or the year after that?"

there ain’t no need to go outside, by mikaylawrites (finished, rated E): "A lazy, rainy morning at home."

how to say I love you in subtext, by RhapsodyInProgress (finished, rated T): "If you know where to look and what to listen for, Josh and Donna have been telling each other how they feel for years. A series of vignettes on a theme."

annus primus, by hufflepuffhermione (finished, rated T): "The first year of the Santos administration, in twelve movements."

sit with you in the trenches, by swancharmings (finished, rated T): "”So you’ve got health and strength.” “And we’ll steal the rest?” “Bet your ass.” // Four ways they did exactly that."

oversight, by thefinestmuffins (finished, rated E): "War Crimes angst + hooking up" (a MUST read!!!)

can't call you a stranger (but i can't call you), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (finished, rated T): "King Corn. The elevator gets stuck."

for a long time, by onelargecoffeepls (finished, rated M): "Seven short glimpses into Donna falling in love with Josh based on "Love You For A Long Time" by Maggie Rogers."

this is how mythology is written (or: shards; scars; and whole again), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (finished, rated T): "The mosaic of Josh and Donna." (GOD this one!!!)

where the lovelight gleams, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated E): "Donna brings Josh home for Christmas and has some thoughts about him in a holiday sweater; takes place during Transition" (OBSESSED!!!)

the way old friends do, by mikaylawrites (finished, rated T): "Donna, Toby, Charlie, and the chaotic people they love."

the first 100 days, by BimadaBomily (finished, rated T): "100 moments in Josh/Donna's relationship during the first 100 days of the Santos Administration."

like we were in paris (we were somewhere else), by BeneathAnOrangeSky (work in progress, rated M): "Josh, Donna, and the worlds they transform together // or: an ode to Paris (Taylor's Version)" (again, the way this author writes??!!?!)

find ourselves in the winter snow, by swancharmings (finished, rated E): "It’s when he leads her to dance, holding her impossibly close and swaying gently through the upbeat tempo, that she truly doesn’t know what to expect of the evening."

please linger near the door, by cmbing (finished, rated T): "They’re definitely not dating when there is a presidential dinner and they don’t think to invite dates. Instead, they assume they’ll go with each other. Him in a black tux, her in a red dress. Their arms are interlocked as they enter the ballroom, and Donna even goads Josh into dancing with her. It’s friendly, nothing more. They’re just having sex. That’s it."

with one hello, I'll never be the same, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated T): "Josh and Donna and how 'hi' means so much more than 'hello'."

all you ever wanted from me (was sweet nothin'), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (finished, rated T): "Donna hadn’t had a nightmare about her ex since she started dating Josh, since well before she moved in with Josh after their week in Hawaii, since her life became better than it ever has been, since she became happier than she ever thought that she could be. Which is probably why she’s so shaken when the nightmare returns. Set post-series, in the Santos CoS era." (soooo sweet)

AUs 💛

i like shiny things (but i'd marry you with paper rings), by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated T): "In the aftermath of the First Lady's birthday party, Josh, Donna, and the rest of the Senior Staff deal with the fallout of Donna's realization that she's no longer a U.S. Citizen. CJ, Sam, and Toby have taken it upon themselves to get this figured out, and it’s a good thing, because Josh’s brain can only present him with one solution: Marry Donna Moss."

my days now end as they began (with thoughts of you), by flowersinapril (work in progress, rated T): "A new neighbour moves in next door to Josh and she isn't happy with how loud and chaotic he is." (can't wait for the next chapter of this one!!!)

sometimes it's like you grew up down the street, by starsontheceiling (finished, rated G): "Afterwards, he’ll say he did it without thinking and all their friends will laugh at him in disbelief, and he understands why but it’s still true."

you came like a resolution (under a starry sky), by JessBakesCakes (work in progress, rated G): "Donna, this is my brother, Josh. Josh, this is Donna. She lives across the hall"

an everlasting love, by sam_writes_fics (work in progress, rated T): "best man and maid of honor au" (has not been updated in a while but I love the idea of this pic so so much and I think about constantly)

think i missed the gun at the starting line, by ansatz (finished, rated T): "After qualifying for the Olympics in 2016, but being unable to compete due to an injury, Donna Moss is back, ready to run, and completely focused on earning a medal for Team Canada. Enter Josh Lyman, reigning Olympic champion with a heart of—you guessed it—gold. Two countries, two sports: one chance to fall in love?"

what if i told you, i feel like i know you? but we never met., by donnatellamoss (finished, rated G): "Donna Moss meets an unfamiliar face when she knocks on Sam Seaborn’s door for their English project. His name’s Josh Lyman and he’s good at bothering people."

absolutely smitten (never let you go), by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated G): "Josh feels all the air whoosh out of his lungs when he sees the teacher standing on the other side of the door. She looks at the group standing outside her door, puzzled for a moment, until her blue eyes lock with Josh’s. Her blonde hair is tucked neatly behind her ears, and pumpkin earrings dangle from her earlobes. She’s wearing a copper-colored fall sweater, adorned with leaves around the collar that match her bulletin board. Her ID badge dangles from her neck, one of those ink pens in a bright, funky color clipped to her lanyard.  “Miss Moss,” CJ says. “This is Mr. Lyman from the high school."" (always thinking about this one honestly I need more!!!)

the campaign around the corner, orphan_account (finished, rated G): "Donna Moss is working for Howard Stackhouse's presidential campaign in 1998. Josh Lyman is working for Jed Bartlet's presidential campaign in 1998. The two cannot stand each other. Little do they know the person each of them is beginning to fall in love with over email is the other." (you've got mail au!!!!!!!!!!)

everybody talks (it started with a whisper), by JessBakesCakes (work in progress, rated G): "Being the White House Press Secretary, Josh realizes, is one of the toughest jobs in the administration to begin with. But with her co-workers' propensity for going viral, CJ certainly deserves a raise. The West Wing, set 20 years later." (soooo obsessed with this one MY GOD)

darling, so it goes (some things are meant to be), by mikaylawrites (finished, rated M): "The story of rising country singers Josh Lyman and Donna Moss." (so good!!!)

ballerina, you've must have seen her, by thababes (work in progress, rated G): "It was always supposed to have been Josh and Mandy. After their successful run of Carmen, it had been expected that The Washington Ballet would stick to what worked. There was never supposed to be another audition. Company principles seemingly traveling from role to role was the usual. It had been an unusual season — schedule conflicts and last minute alternate class partners — and suddenly, everything seemed to have changed. And it had all started when he had danced with her." (I think about this one constantly)

[difeisheng]

🪷

Happy One Year Anniversary to Mysterious Lotus Casebook, and so, happy one year to this fandom as well!

(I would have liked to have finished writing a fic for this day. As it was, life got to me, so you get these other words instead.)

This little corner of C-drama Tumblr has brought me a lot of joy in the last year. I didn't know how long I'd be here when the show first started airing, or whether or not I'd even finish it. As it turned out, there ended up being a close-knit group of us drawn to the show as it released (I love you guys for the madness that was reacting to and speculating about some of those episodes in real time), and more showed up in the following months as well. And so I wound up staying with this story after it was over, not just because it was a wonderful one, but because I ended up getting to know a lot of other people through it too!

Some of you were here posting in the tag from day one, some of you came along later, but I've really enjoyed getting to talk and exchange ideas with so many of you. Writing meta was never my main contribution to fandom before this (and I do mostly consider myself a fic writer first and foremost) but I've had the time of my life pulling apart and analyzing this story with others, and seeing everyone's own thoughts/reactions to it. MLC is special in that the amount of care and deliberate detail put into it can support that kind of scrutiny, but it also takes the people who want to look at all these things, to have the kind of happily curious atmosphere that this fandom does. I want to thank you all for that experience. It's been fun, it's been eye-opening (I've become a better writer for it), and the variety of perspectives people have brought to discussions has left me with so much more to think about in relation to this show.

And I want to shoutout to all the creators in this fandom— gifmakers, meta writers, fic writers, artists, and everyone else I've scrolled past in the tag who shared something for the rest of us to enjoy about these characters. I check the tag every day. I see you. This fandom has been great in particular for reblogging and responding to others' creations, and it's beautiful to see that sense of community. I don't joke when I say that from the get-go I considered this fandom a breath of fresh air, compared to many others I've been in. You're all very cool and I'm so happy for the things all of us have shared in this space, for the love of MLC.

Through all this, this show and the people who gather around it here have brought me some of my closest friends in fandom today. That includes some people I'd known of for years, but never thought I'd ever really be able to talk to. I've also met a lot of Chinese diaspora through MLC, and gotten to feel a little less lonely about some of my own experiences. Not everyone here in the beginning actively talks about MLC anymore, but you know who you are, and know that I remember you and look back on 2023 very fondly. And to those who came later, or those still here, I love that we're keeping this fandom going. I don't know when the next drama will pull my attention away, but for now I'm still in this corner with the rest of you, and I'm very glad for that.

Mysterious Lotus Casebook is special, and so are all of you. Thank you for this last year.

[joelscruff]

some fof related ramblings ✨️

so the other day (may 2nd) marked one whole year since i started fof and i didn't really want to draw much attention to it because i'm just so.... generally unkind to myself when it comes to this fic lmao. making a post just felt like pointing out to not only my readers but to myself that it's been a whole year since i started and yet the fic is still not complete - something my brain tells me is a massive failure on my part. which is FUCKED because i'd never think that way about anyone else's fic. i know exactly how long it can take to finish things when life is constantly throwing curveballs at you + the way creativity and inspiration is always ebbing and flowing. i get that completely, i just wish i was able to give that same understanding and kindness to myself.

i'm so appreciative of everyone who reads fof and has been so patient with me over the past year when it comes to posting. in the beginning i had just become unemployed and was unsure what direction my life was going in, so writing & posting fic was such an amazing escape and i spent SO much time dedicating myself to that creativity. then i decided to go back to school and a lot changed, for better and for worse. a lot of my time is no longer my own and my mental health took a real nosedive which will always be something i deal with regardless. i'm happy to be back at school and working towards something but it was definitely a sacrifice of creativity and because of that i still consistently feel like i'm letting people down. it doesn't come as easily to me anymore and it hurts to admit but that doesn't mean i don't still enjoy it or that i'm planning on giving up on it.

i love fof - it means so much to me and i WILL see it through to the end no matter how long it may take. same goes for all my other fic ideas & wips that that i've slowly been working on whenever my brain allows. i need to be kinder to myself and acknowledge that a year of writing a fic does not equate to a failure, it shows that despite everything i'm still here and i've still got that creativity and passion i had at the start, even if it manifests itself differently now.

tldr; one whole year of fof & i'm proud of myself 💖💖💖💖 and forever grateful to everyone who loves it just as much as i do ❤️

[highlordofkrypton]

Wildflowers, a canon-adjacent ACOTAR prequel from Tamlin's point of view

Time to do a little self-promotion, GET THIS OUT OF MY SYSTEM AND TOOT MY OWN HORN. I'm so proud of this fic, and I'm going to take this moment to just celebrate it. (It's the first story/fanfiction I ever wrote start to finish, and without the support of a writing partner!!! A big milestone for me!!)

You don't need to be pro Tamlin to enjoy this fic, but you will be pro Tamlin by the end of it 👌

I've got a handful of followers in the recent days from my meme-ing, but I'd also like to share some of my writing along with some of the silliness I post.

READ ON AO3

SUMMARY: Five hundred years before Feyre’s arrival in Prythian, the humans fought against Faeries, led by the King of Hybern, for their Freedom. Tamlin is only seven years old when the war begins, but his family’s involvement and a fated friendship with a handsome young Lord from the Night Court will change his life forever. This is the story of how he becomes the High Lord you know and love.

TL;DR - before they were enemies, they touched butts.

This fic is complete!

WHAT YOU WILL GET IN THIS FIC:

Filled in the blanks worldbuilding (A MAGICAL FAERIE WORLD)

BABY TAMLIN!!! HE'S A STAR!! A TEENY WEENY EEPY STAR!

Awesome side characters -- Tamlin's brothers, Rhysand's family, the LADIES OF PRYTHIAN! (Trust me, you will have a favourite by the end of it.)

Who is Andras? He's a sweet spring child, let me tell you

BUTT TOUCHING!! If you're here for smut, there are many positions (but you can also skip those chapters too!

ANGST

SIDE STORIES??? YES YES YES

LOOK HOW PRETTY! 😭😭😭

If you made it this far, I gotta share something with you. I'm so grateful to all my Wildflowers (thats u, readers) that I wanted to give something back to the community.

One of those copies will be up for giveaway within the coming weeks. So, check out the fic, see if you like it and for more information on the giveaway, you can follow this blog or my instagram where the giveaway will be held: @aliteratebrunch

Credits

Tamlin art by @snaxk

Wildflowers bind by needleandbind on Tiktok

[captainsophiestark]

Exceptions

Grant Ward x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: The Bus kids are stuck at the Triskelion for a while since May and Coulson have a meeting with Fury, but Ward already has important plans that he can't cancel.

Word Count: 1,287

Category: Fluff, Humor

A/N: To the anon who sent me an idea outline for this, I hope you like it! It got merged with another idea I had, but hopefully, it's still pretty close to what you had in mind :) Thanks for continuing to read stuff for Grant Ward and enabling me to keep writing him- he's my fave, so I'm glad I have at least a few people to share the love with!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Skye's POV

"Alright. May and I will head into our meeting with Director Fury. We'll meet you back here when we're done."

I frowned at Coulson, glancing at FitzSimmons and Ward to see if any of them would say anything. As expected, FitzSimmons just looked at each other, and Ward nodded to Coulson like he'd known this was the plan from the beginning, which I super doubted.

"Okay... and what are we supposed to do in the meantime?" I asked, turning back to Coulson and asking the question that must've been on the rest of our minds. May was already halfway out of the room, and Coulson stopped mid-step to address my question. He smiled.

"I'm sure you'll think of something."

With that, he turned and headed off with May again. I watched him go for a few steps, then put my hands on my hips and turned back to the rest of my group with a sigh.

"Alright, we've been abandoned at one of the biggest SHIELD bases in the world. I probably know the least about this place out of all of us, so... how about you guys? Any ideas?"

I glanced at FitzSimmons, then looked right at Ward. He had his arms crossed, and he shook his head and took a step back the minute my gaze landed on him.

"I don't know what you all are going to do, but I have somewhere I need to be. I'll meet you back here when May and Coulson are done with their meeting. Try not to break anything until then."

With that, he turned on his heel and started marching away. I let him get a few steps, then turned to FitzSimmons.

"So we're gonna follow him, right?"

"Oh, of course."

"Absolutely."

****************

Y/N's POV

A took a slow, steady breath, then refocused on the sample in front of me. I'd been staring through the eyepiece of this microscope for what felt like an eterity, finally getting somewhere with samples I'd been working with for months. I'd been stuck at the Triskelion that whole time, in a lab with the loudest of the loud field and ops agents coming in and out, constant noise and business no matter where we went. All of that was about to be worth it.

The rest of the lab completely faded out around me, even as I scribbled notes without looking at the paper beside me. The handwriting wouldn't be good, but it would be decent enough that I could decipher it later, and it meant I didn't have to take my eyes off the results of the experiment in front of me for a single moment. I'd carefully built my corner of the lab into what it was, a sanctuary from the noise and chaos, the perfect place to tuck away and lose myself in my research.

At least, normally it was. Today, someone had apparently decided to venture into my corner, as a hand on my shoulder made me shoot out of my chair and almost gave me a heart attack.

"Sorry!" came the frantic voice of my best friend, Mandy. "I didn't mean to scare you! I swear, I said your name, like, three times while walking over here."

I put a hand to my chest, taking half a second to catch my breath before turning back to Mandy.

"It's okay. Honestly, I don't think anything could've shaken me out of my focus without scaring me like that. Did you need something?"

"Just wanted to give you a warning. One of the ops agents broke containment and just wandered into the lab. Figured it'd be better if I interrupted you than if he did."

I sighed, long and heavy, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Are you kidding me? How did one of them even get in here-"

I turned to see the man in question and stopped dead in my tracks. Grant Ward, my boyfriend, had just stepped into the lab. I grinned.

"Oh, actually, never mind Mandy. This one's the exception to the rest of the ops people."

"Wow, no kidding. I don't think I've seen you smile like that since your experiment at the Academy won our final projects presentation."

I rolled my eyes, but didn't bother with more than that as Mandy took her leave and Grant finally made his way over to me. His smile matched mine, the two of us bringing out sides of each other most people weren't lucky enough to see.

"You didn't tell me you were coming!" I said as Grant finally reached me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me tight to his chest. He leaned in to kiss me, and it lasted a few moments longer than I would've let him get away with in public if I hadn't missed him so much.

"I thought I'd make it a surprise. Our team got detoured here last minute for Coulson to have some meeting with Fury. Lucky for us, they didn't need me to be there."

"That is lucky," I agreed, the two of us sharing a smile again. Grant reached up and gently cuped my chin in his hand, pulling me back in for a sweeter, slower version of our earlier kiss. I sighed when he pulled back and settled onto the lab stool next to me, his thigh pressed against mine.

"So. Wanna tell me what you're working on?"

"Happily. But I don't want to spend all the time we have together in this lab, so don't let me get carried away-"

"Don't worry, we should have all of tonight and tomorrow morning, with a small exception in a few hours when I have to meet back up with my team. I thought I could keep you company while you finish up here, and then we could grab some dinner. I found a great restaurant in the city last time I had an undercover mission there, and it'll leave us plenty of time for you to tell me all about this project you're working on."

"Grant, that sounds perfect. How did I get so lucky with you?"

"Trust me, the feeling's mutual." We shared a smile, smaller and softer this time, but no less special. Then, Grant turned to the microscope in front of us. "So... I take it you're doing something with this?"

"Yes! I finally have interesting results to look at, so your visit was well-timed. Let me tell you about what you're seeing here..."

Grant leaned into the microsope, bracing one hand on my thigh as I put one arm around his shoulders and rubbed gentle cirlces there, narrating what he was seeing on the slide as I went. Within the lab, I'd gotten a bit of a reputation for liking my space while I worked. But Grant would always be the exception to that. I was on cloud nine that he was here, and I wasn't going to waste a single moment we had together.

****************

Skye's POV

"I've never seen him smile like that!" Simmons hissed.

"And he always complains about 'technobabble' when I say more than a few three-syllable words in a sentence!" Fitz agreed. I just huffed a laugh.

"Yeah, well, he's not kissing any of us either. I think that might have something to do with the change."

Fitz and Simmons scoffed right along with me, the three of us watching the scene in the Triskelion's lab for a few more moments before finally shaking it off and heading back into the hallway. Whether or not we found something else to occupy our time until May and Coulson were done with their meeting, we at least had something to tease Ward about for the rest of our lives, which I'd take as a win any day.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinitelyforgotten @sagesmelts @gaychaosgremlin

[chaosheadspace]

For the writer asks, for Library Boys!

2. How'd you get the idea, what kicked this off?

24. How did you celebrate finishing?

25-27 I would love to hear some favorite lines, details, and lore

28. Write a summary for it but badly

Hi TJ, thank you so much for asking! I apologise beforehand, this is almost 2.5K :)

2. How'd you get the idea, what kicked this off?

Originally, @notallsandmen asked me if I would write another enemies to lovers fic after Ill-advised things. By that time I had written a library sex scene for @staroftheendless's smut prompts (yes, the very one where Hob has Dream against the shelf, at least part of that). And I just couldn't stop developing headcanons about them in this AU, how they'd look, what they'd be like, what their background looks like.

I am very much a pantser, and in the beginning the plot was clear to me up to where Dream loses Orpheus and Hob tries to console him. Everything after that was loose points I was trying to connect. I remember having written most of it up until that point and the last chapter and thinking, "not much left now, I think I can start posting". Lol.

Everything that happens between those two points came to me after that, all of Hob's backstory (I struggled with that, he's been kinda hazy in my head), the very thorough dip into the mental illness theme (the bulletpoint in my brain sounded something like "make Murphy feel better and figure out what it is exactly—and see where it took me, two fights, a sex scene and a whole chapter focused on it), Orpheus's journey. This is precisely why I don't like outlining—I do better without. The pacing might be shot to hell, but tbh I don't care about that very much, I care about having put down all I wanted you to see, all I wanted you to know about these two.

24. How did you celebrate finishing?

By taking a break, by finishing the blanket that came with the fic (lol) and by going "I don't think they're all that happy yet" and writing a bunch for the sequel. I'm also gonna commission some art from my Christmas money this year (don't know who yet, but I've got a few scenes I'd like to see).

25-27 I would love to hear some favorite lines, details, and lore

Biggest fun fact that hasn't found it's way into readers focus (hopefully "yet"), is that Matthew is Jessamy's younger brother. At the very start I had a plan about Hob and Murphy being oblivious about that and them getting into a big fight only for those two getting them back together via shenanigans. But then Murphy demanded therapy, and Orpheus demanded screen time, and Hob begged for backstory, and suddenly it didn't fit anymore, tone wise. I'm hoping to fit more Matthew into the sequel.

Favourite lines is rather…uh… I mean, it's 90K 😬

I loved writing them kiss, every single time.

The opening to chapter five holds a special place in my heart (the description of campus on the day of the summer festival), as does the poor philosophy faculty member that keeps calling the stacks for books (this is really not how it works lol). A lot of what happens in non-Dreamling plot is taken from my personal experience. A lot of it happened to me, or to my coworkers. The library I picture them working at is the library I did my apprenticeship in. (I also detest Gorgonzola.) There really are people every year accidentally ordering a cart full of bound journals because they thought they'd get single issues. I always loved doing those and brining them up personally to see the face of the person that ordered them. Was worth the three quarters of an hour of work before and after every time. What I did not include is the small railway system we had. There were little waggons to put the books into, and they'd bring the books upstairs via rails on the ceiling. It's one of the coolest things I've ever seen in my life.

I loved this part:

He can suddenly see right through the thick layer of animosity like glass, and underneath it is a beaten, bloody, hurt thing."

And this one, because it's my Murphy, condensed into a paragraph, in all his confusion and hurt and love:

It feels good to have someone's attention on him, regardless of the kind. Murphy sometimes thinks he shouldn't encourage Hob's temper like that, should maybe apologise, and on his most lonely, sleepless nights he fantasises guiltily about making amends and asking Hob out. But what would Hob gain from that? Murphy has failed at marriage, the most long-term emotional commitment there is. And there is also Orpheus. Murphy loves him more than anything, but he knows that most single people consider children from previous, failed marriages baggage. It's the last thing Murphy wants for Orpheus, to feel secondary because of a relationship.

I also loved writing Orpheus deciding to go with Calliope, just because of how raw it is, and how true it feels. As a patchwork family kid myself, while not having been in the exact situation, I feel very deeply about all of this, and exploring why someone would let their child go, and why someone would encourage them to go, helped me tremendously.

This part I love because it shows the security that Hob gives Murphy even back when they were on bad terms, and just how wrong Murphy is and how deep his self-deception goes:

He starts to taunt Hob again. It's easy, so easy to fall back into it, almost as if they never stopped. Murphy carefully sharpens his tongue again and tries it out on Hob's thick skin. It feels safe. Neither of them mentions the closet and the hugs and Murphy's tears, and he is grateful. It's not real. This is.

This part is a feeling I have very often about emotionally charged situations bc I'm shit at them (the "oh fuck, the jig is up" feeling):

This is it, he realises, this is going to resolve things one way or another. Suddenly Hob wishes Dream had called in sick for a day longer, or two, or had stopped him two days ago when he'd walked out of his office. He can't stand it. He can't face it, either. But he must.

I'm also very proud of this, because it's the turning point of the whole story and I think I executed it rather well. It's the most revised part of the whole story, and the one that took the longest, writing wise:

"Wait wait wait," Hob interrupts him and all blood leaves his face. "What's this about deserving? Did you—Have you used me to punish yourself because you don't think you deserve basic kindness?!" He is so tense that he feels his muscles might spring out of his skin, so angry that he thinks his blood might boil out of his ears. And then. And then all the tension melts out of Dream as he sees him getting angry, relief etched into his face and rimming his eyes with red, and something in Hob breaks. This is the part of Hob he is used to. This is the Hob he knows and is comfortable with. Shame and grief so profound it settles in his bones creeps up from his toes and into his heart. He doesn't want that. He wants, needs it to be different. "Oh love," he says, voice thick with sorrow, and sits down next to Morpheus on his kitchen bench, taking his hands into his own. "Oh darling, no."

I'm throwing this one in, too, because I think I was really fucking funny:

The only positive effect this information has on Hob is that it makes his erection wilt like a candle in front of a blowtorch.

I also loved doing the phone screenshots of their texts with the secret emoji story from the evening before that played out during the phone call chapter, but I don't think anyone picked up on that. It was fun regardless, a nice little easter egg.

I am skimming the story for this and am only on chapter 16. I think I have to reign myself in a bit. Chapter 16 is also kind of a companion chapter to ch13 (where they get their shit together) in terms of emotional intensity. While in chapter 13 they had to painfully try and pull themselves together, to be honest and open even if it hurt, chapter 16 is the culmination of the new start they made for themselves, a little bit of "what if we hadn't been like that from the start" but better, because of course they have been like that, and imo dropping a weight like that lets people fly higher. A tender start would have been sweet and nothing else, but here they're conscious of quite a few of each other's flaws, and know the other is earnestly trying to put the work in, and that makes it as delicious as an overripe peach eaten over the sink, sticky and ecstatic and glorious.

This:

The giggle Hob has been suppressing bubbles up his throat, and he moves quickly to tap his index finger to the soft wet redness. Scandalised, Murphy pulls his head back, smacking his lips. "Bah," he says, taken aback. "Who does that?" "I do," Hob says, still giggling. "Worked, didn't it?" "You," Murphy proclaims, swaying back to him and holding onto his hips, "are the worst." And then he licks a long, wet stripe up the side of Hob's face.

I just love their silly. They need the silly. Even if I forget, they demand it themselves.

All the house/home metaphors I did for Murphy's life, and the sea metaphors I did for his mental health journey.

Also proud that I managed to still keep them real and make them fight and make up and not have them be happy lovey doves all the time (which may seem surprising considering all I put them through, but still). I wanted to be conscious of making their relationship equal, to not have Hob carry Murphy's issues but have him lean on him, too (although he's certainly the stronger one of them, emotionally. Carrying wise, I mean.), to have them give and take in equal measure.

There was also a short snippet of Hob meeting Jessamy, that would originally go into chapter 20. But it didn't fit the tone, and the chapter did better what I wanted from it without it, so it got cut. Generally speaking, there's very little scenes that got cut. I don't care about pacing that much, and even less if a scene is necessary or not. If it's something I want to tell, I'm gonna include it. But there's a few that took the story in a direction that I didn't like, and that I wrote quite early on, that didn't fit the story as it progressed. (notably, for the sequel, Orpheus finding a dog while playing with his best friend and Hob and Murphy adopting it.)

This one, for me, is the best sentence from the recovery chapter:

He needs—no, he wants to take it into his own hands, so that his happiness stops being a thing that other people need to give him."

(I also asked notallsandmen if the sex scene at the end is over the top, and they told me that not only is Murphy on antidepressants, he's also in love, and at that point I threw caution out the window and decided they can as happy and as schmoopy as I want them to be.)

Chapter 22 was entirely unplanned. At one point I realised that while readers have an approximation of Murphy's past, Hob still has no idea what happened :D

I also loved doing the Christmas chapter. I put a lot of thought in what celebrations like this might look for Orpheus as a kid of two cultures. I think some traditions would have been quite important to Calliope, not because I picture her as particularly religious, but because I think she would have liked to keep them while living in England. And I think Murphy would have agreed with her, because he wanted her to be happy, and I don't think that he's got particularly happy memories associated with family celebrations until Calliope, and he might even have seen it as a way to break away from his own family and his own past, just like his marriage in general had been. So the abundance of greek Christmas traditions is very much on purpose.

I also love any and all interactions between Hob and Orpheus.

This one, because it always makes me cry, even when rereading my own story:

“Hello, little sparrow.” He’s sure that his relief bleeds through into his tone, softening his voice to a sweet, velvety caress. Orpheus makes an indefinable sound at the endearment. “You've called every day for a week,” he says, unsure. “I did,” Murphy assents. “Thank you for speaking to me today. I missed you.”

Also loved reusing this one, even if it might be too sugary:

“D’you think it'll work out?” He finally says. “All of it?” Turning his head slightly, Murphy kisses Hob's temple, his cheek, his neck. “We try,” he says, gently. “We try and try, and sometimes that means we fail. But Hob, it also means that more often than not, we make it work.”

I also love the last chapter and the conclusion to bits, but sometimes I worry that it might feel like a haphazardly slapped on bandaid to some readers (which it it very much not. It's another testament to both of their stellar decision making, and it will come to bite them in the ass :D).

This turned into a very long and convoluted ramble, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.

28. Write a summary for it but badly

I cannot decide, so you're getting all of them (yes, I crowdsourced):

Library 4.0: parkour edition

Dr. D. M. Olympiou's and R. Gadlings guide on how to regulate your behaviour in library spaces using real life negative examples, now with annex detailing the consequences for your private life

'In which library assistant Hob finds himself the prime subject of new subject librarian Dream Olympiou's study onwhether you're being checked out of the library or checked out at the library.' (courtesy of @sleepsonfutons)

Two insecure idiots fuck around and find out…that they’re actually really good together (courtesy of @edgedancer77)

Surrounded by idiots: The four types of human behaviour and how to effectively fumble all of them when it comes to your hot but asshole coworker (based on: Surrounded by Idiots: The Four Types of Human Behavior and How to Effectively Communicate with Each in Business (and in Life))

How to hatefuck your way into better mental health (courtesy of @reallyintoscience)

[remimibanana]

A bit about Paradox

So, I wrote a massive story with Furina and Neuvillette, which you can find here!

I didn’t want to make the notes section too long with all my thoughts regarding the story, and so I decided to write all here in this one post!

If you’d like to learn a bit about my thought process behind writing the story, then you’ve come to the right place.

All below the cut!

First of all, this story wasn’t meant to be as long as it is.

I originally wanted to beat my record of 17k for a story, so I aimed for about 20k. Maybe 22k? Like…25k at the most?

That sounded feasible, right?

And then it became longer. And longer. And longer the more I wrote…

I thought I’d never reach the end. It just kept going, aha.

I kept writing until it felt all complete to me. I wanted to tell a cohesive story, which requires a lot of words!

This is why this story took so long to write! Apparently, it took me over a month to write this….

I made the document on the same day 4.2 came out. But I think I started writing a few days later.

I was meant to write one more fic before the end of the year, but I think this might be final one for the year!

It took longer than I expected to write it. But I’m very proud of what I’ve written!

But let’s start from the beginning. What made me write this story in the first place?

I started writing this story after I finished playing Act V and Furina’s Story Quest.

I knew I wanted to write something as soon as I finished the quests, because that’s what I do lol

For example, that’s what I did when I played Neuvillette’s Story Quest. I get really inspired after playing!

I love Genshin's Archon Quests and Story Quests so much.

I always want to play everything first to learn more about the characters before jumping right into writing.

I don’t want to butcher their characterizations. I always try my best to stay as close to canon as possible, but add my own headcanons as well about things like powers because well…I can!

I knew this time around, I wanted to write in Furina’s POV!

Since I wrote in Neuvillette’s POV for Resolution of Water’s Complexity. I thought it would be cool.

And after the events of Act V and Furina’s Story Quest, I knew that I wanted this story to be sad. I surprised myself at how sad this story can get.

Sorry. I break hearts aha.

But it also has its funny moments too! I love humor, and I try to add into my stories in the hopes I can make you all laugh.

This is why I set it after Furina’s Story Quest in particular. I wanted Furina to have her vision since it does play a part in the story!

When I started writing this, I had a very, very basic idea. You know the summary for Paradox?

That’s all I had.

Along with this one thought of Furina dancing on the stage.

Nothing else was planned. I just wrote and it became what it is now!

It’s how I usually write.

I wanted dreams to be a major aspect of the story. I love the concept of dreams, and how they can feel so real.

It's like what they said in Thelxie's Fantastic Adventures.

Perhaps fantasy is not just fantasy after all.

A decent of the fairytale world into the real world. It temporarily became reality, and influenced real things in our world.

I think that's how I'd describe my story, although it was a total coincidence that the event sort of has the same ideas as my story lol

Let's talk about the dream Furina has at the beginning of the story.

As you can tell, it plays an important part throughout it all. It’s referenced explicitly multiple times.

It was the first thing I wrote, which basically set the trajectory for the rest of the story.

I wanted to catch your attention from the very start, which I hope I managed to do!

The dream goes deeply into Furina’s thoughts while she is dancing for her people, which are rather dark as you can see.

On the outside, she's being what her people want her to be. On the inside is another story.

I based this off the things we see in Act V, and what I thought Furina would think about her role.

She mainly didn’t want to fail Fontaine. She received an important role from Mirror-Me, as we know as Focalors to play as the Hydro Archon.

It’s why she worked so hard to keep up her act. Even if she suffers, she would suffer for all of Fontaine.

Everything and anything to protect them from the prophecy. But in the dream, she fails. They realise she’s not the Archon.

Even though she didn’t fail in reality.

It’s what she keeps dreaming about, even if she doesn’t want to keep dreaming of such scenarios.

It’s hard to let go of the past, especially after 500 years.

You feel really bad for Furina in the dream, right? I felt bad writing it aha

As you may have noticed, it’s sort of a parallel with what happened in Furina’s trial!

Particularly the end where everyone looks away from Furina. There are a lot of parallels within this story, which I hope you were all able to get!

It sounds like I planned all this extensively beforehand but I really didn’t lol

Let’s talk about Fillian!

Just like in Resolution of Water's Complexity, we have a character I made up for the story. I hope you liked Fillian!

They/Them pronouns because yes. We support our non-binary friends here.

Honestly, I started writing with those pronouns and it sort of stuck so I kept it that way. I hope I didn’t mess up the pronouns anywhere!

They are a producer and a pretty good actor that plays a huge part in the story.

Pretty much, I wanted a character that was genuinely nice to Furina.

Furina deserves to have at least one person she could truly consider as a friend.

They weren't initially going to have such a huge part, but just like I did in Resolution of Water's Complexity, I wanted to make everything connect.

The name Fillian just came to me while I was trying to work out what name to give them. It's a bit strange, but I feel like it's something you would see in game.

Fillian was the one who danced with Furina at the Fountain of Lucine at the beginning of the story.

Even from the beginning, they were so kind to her. That’s just how they are.

It looks like that they like her, but not in a romantic sense! Although people seem to take it the wrong way, as seen lol

They truly care for Furina. The kindness of them is something Furina can’t truly understand at times.

The interaction when they meet again near her house was so fun to write. It sounds bad what Fillian tells her, and just kept getting worse and worse for her…

It made me laugh. I hope it made you laugh too!

My favourite part is when Fillian gave her the dress she wore in the second act.

I saw that so vividly in my head. The way they would hand it to her, and the way Furina took it...

The fact that they said the same words they did back at the Fountain of Lucine…they truly are something.

Fillian was so fun to write!

Let’s talk about the play next!

This idea came about when I was writing Fillian and Furina's first interaction after the Fountain.

I needed a reason as to why Fillian came up to her. It was the only thing I could think of, so I made them a producer who was also an actor who wanted Furina to act in it.

As you can obviously tell, Filia is Furina and Neuron is Neuvillette. I wanted it to be obvious lol

The initial plot of the play took over 1000 words to explain as I tried to make the plot.

I wanted the plot to loosely resemble Furina’s life. Only if you knew Furina, you would notice.

Particularly, the fact that Filia was playing a role as her older sister who was named Flora.

The name Filia came about because I wanted it to sound like Furina somehow. I couldn’t think of a better name that wasn't too obvious.

Flora was a name I chose because it starts with F and it alludes to Focalors in a way. Even though we already have an NPC named Flora in game lol

Even though Furina played as Filia, I still wrote Furina as you may have noticed. It might be a weird choice, but I felt like it made more sense since Furina was pretty much playing as herself.

I mentioned how Furina has different hairstyles and outfits for the play. This all came about from the concept designs for her!

When I saw these, I fell in love with them. They’re all so good! I had to add them into the story somehow.

Luckily for me, I had the whole play idea!

So Furina can change her appearance drastically because of her vision. I mean, it’s not that far-fetched since she can change between her Ousia and Pneuma forms.

This was the only way I could think of justifying how Furina changed her hairstyle.

For Act 1 and 2, Furina has this hairstyle and this is the outfit that I described!

For Act 3, Furina has this hairstyle and outfit.

That's what I hoped I conveyed!

At the beginning of the play, Furina freaks out because it reminds her of her dream. See what I meant by parallels? There's another one right there!

It affects her so much so, that she breaks down in the middle of the second act.

That was painful to write, the fact that she thought she ruined the whole play too?

Fillian was the true MVP here. The way they comforted her, and didn't belittle her for anything. They even wanted to shut down everything in the middle of it!

But Furina couldn't do that. She wouldn't. Even if she was all hurt, she would finish waht she started.

And then it only makes things harder for her at the end of it all when she sees Neuvillette up there.

He was truly up there, by the way. He only left because he couldn’t handle the intense emotions he was feeling at the sight of Furina crying.

Unfortunately, Furina didn’t know that. And that was the final straw for her.

Furina running out of the Opera Epiclese was something that I wanted to make as emotional as I could.

I used a lot of mirror imagery and ideas in this story, and it is quite evident with when she goes to see herself in the Fountain of Lucine's waters.

Hands drag Furina into the Fountain. I chose hands because I feel like hands are pretty scary?

Let’s talk about what the hell happened at the Fountain of Lucine. I’m sure you are all wondering.

I’m going to refer it as a crazy dream here.

Neuvillette explained it as an overflow of the Hydro energies within the Fountain of Lucine. It reacted to Furina’s emotions, and caused manifestations within the waters based upon past memories, and Furina’s own ones.

I hope that made sense! I literally just made up the explanation because uh…I had to justify why that all happened!

Pretty much, Neuvillette’s emotions were in such turmoil that it affected the Fountain of Lucine, since it was in close proximity to him.

He can control the whole Hydro Element now, after all.

If it was just the skies before, why not something as powerful as the Fountain?

It was shown before in Neuvillette’s Story Quest that he could look through the memories there.

Since it’s where all the waters converge, the Hydro energies within it became unstable.

Furina’s deep emotional pain resonated with the unstable energies when she was next to it, which caused this crazy dream to occur.

Yet this dream truly could hurt her.

It was so unstable that it made her memories come into reality with the past.

It’s like how Vacher saw the people he killed with the Primordial Seawater.

This part was heavily inspired by two things:

Sailor Moon by Naoko Takeuchi and ENA by Joel G!

A bit of a strange combination, but let me explain.

I got really into ENA around the time the video Power of Potluck released. I love how strange but interesting it is. It’s really good, I recommend all the videos!

That’s where this whole part came to be after I watched said video.

I stole the whole act idea from it, and wanted to make it as weird and crazy as I could.

It’s so strange but interesting at the same time, right? Just like ENA. Or it’s just weird and you question why I wrote it at all aha

The acts were named after each of the Archon Quest names.

Prelude of Blancheur and Noirceur

As Light Rain Falls Without Reason

To the Stars Shining in the Depths

Cataclysm’s Quickening

Masquerade of the Guilty

I suppose it would be best if I went through each of the acts one by one and explained a bit about them!

1. Prelude

This one is practically a parallel to the first act in Power of Potluck, it was my major inspiration.

ENA is sort of floating through this place full of pipes. And in my story, Furina is floating within water.

Neuvillette appears as a voice! I wanted to bring Neuvillette in somehow, and I thought that would work the best.

A voice Furina can listen to and follow, even if she didn’t recognize it was him in the first place.

The reason his voice was cutting off was because his own powers going out of control in his haste to save Furina.

As Neuvillette explained at the end of the story, the light was a memory he accessed for Furina to go into, although it was rather random.

2. Rain

Since this act is called Rain, I wanted to relate it somehow to the idea of it.

And that’s when I thought Furina could go back in time to when Neuvillette’s predecessor, the Hydro Dragon was alive.

I made her assume Egeria’s form, because that’s what the memory was.

Egeria meeting the Hydro Dragon in Fontaine somewhere.

I made up everything here by the way, who knows if Egeria was even close to the Hydro Dragon back then?

The reason the Hydro Dragon's form became Neuvillette was when he entered the memory, he took over the Hydro Dragon in the memory.

When did he take over it? Around the time Furina reached out her hand towards the Hydro Dragon, probably.

So Neuvillette heard all her thoughts and feelings. I assume he has full control of the memory, but even so...those hands never stop do they?

I hope it was interesting to read!

3. Stars

This one was heavily inspired by Sailor Moon. I stole the whole hooded figure and River of Forgetfulness idea from it.

I was trying to think of what I could do for this part, and I was reading Volume 12 when it came to me.

In this volume, Sailor Moon and her companions go to a river of sand in order to reach their destination. They meet a hooded figure in a boat.

Sailor Moon and her companions go on the boat, and the sand turns into water and drowns them all in the River of Forgetfulness, doomed to forget everything about themselves.

I made the hooded figure Focalors, since I did say that she could be seen within Furina’s reflection.

I also foreshadowed it when Furina thought “You’re here, aren’t you?” before those hands took her into the Fountain.

Her role was to be cruel and crush Furina down until she was all broken.

I had a lot of fun writing the conversation between Focalors and Furina.

Once Furina sinks down to the bottom of the river, Neuvillette comes to rescue her. Furina has forgotten herself pretty much, but comments in her head about what she hears.

I used this as a chance to hear Neuvillette's side of the story. All this time, I made you think that Neuvillette wasn't truly there any of the times before.

But he was! And we find out his true feelings about everything, including his love for Furina.

He tells her his true name, and it makes her remember! She wakes up, and then Focalors appears again.

Neuvillette here finds out that he did hurt Furina. We don't get to see his reaction to it until later on, but it was the catalyst.

Surprise, surprise! Focalors is actually an Oceanid! And every single fragment of Furina you've been hearing about.

Uh, I'm not sure how much sense it makes, but I was trying to make it sound like each of these fragments were one of the people lost in the Poisson incident.

Or uh...I don't really know lol

The ending of this was abrupt because Furina was forced into another memory.

Even though Neuvillette tried to protect her, everything is still too unstable.

4. Cataclysm

This one, uh...I don't really know why I wrote what I wrote lol

I wanted to reference the first dream again, but decided to bring in Filia and Flora? And the Guillotine that ended Focalors?

It's probably the strangest one out of all the acts, but I like it!

The Personified Fear and Fearful Harmony Filia and Flora talk about are references to the PS1 errors. I love console errors, and these two are some of the coolest ones.

The ending was also pretty much cut (get it) short by the Guillotine shooting down.

Who knows what really happened at the end?

5. Masquerade

This one was just an excuse for Furina and Neuvillette to dance. I really like dancing!

I was imagining something like this for Furina's look for this act, but I couldn't be bothered describing it all lol

Furina dreamt about this whole scenario before. I thought it would be something she would dream of lol

It also sells the fact that this was all real and that it was based on memories, as Neuvillette explains later on.

It also foreshadows the future kiss if you know what I mean 👀

Here, Neuvillette asks the same question regarding love.

Was it love that made him hurt her?

Of course, it all ends before Furina could actually give her the answer. I like to make things painful.

And that's the end of all the acts! I hope they were cool to you!

I really like them.

Let’s talk about what happened when Furina “woke up” from the crazy dream.

This is the most emotional part of the entire story, it hurt to write it.

I made Furina think it was all a dream. And this was the final straw for her. She breaks down completely.

She goes to the mirror once again, and tries her absolute hardest to smile. She thinks that smiling would help, but she couldn't do it.

I had the idea of Furina pounding against the glass very vividly, and had the idea of making it actually shatter but I thought that would be too much.

Still hurt to write it.

I did have a bit of trouble working out how to bring Neuvillette in. So, I made him a wall.

Furina did say he was like a stone wall, right?

The reason Neuvillette hugged Furina right away is because he was basing off what he saw in the play.

When Furina was crying there, she hugged Fillian tightly. So it was the same idea here!

When he says to lie down, it made me laugh for some reason. It just sounds out of place, so much that it was perfect.

I feel like the rest is pretty self-explanatory! I hope it was a fitting end to it all. It hurt me to write the part where Furina basically tells him to go away.

THE KISS. TWO KISSES ACTUALLY. THE WAY HE GOES BACK IN FOR ANOTHER KISS YEAHHHHHHHHHHH

Ahem.

I made them kiss because yes I needed kissing.

When Neuvillette mentioned how it looked like Furina would disappear, and the whole star in his chest comment and Furina;s explanation...that I stole from Sailor Moon too lol

The disappear part was from Volume 4, when Usagi is with Mamoru in his place after Chibi-Usa wanted to stay there. Mamoru hugs her from behind, thinking how it looked like Usagi was about to disappear.

And the star in his chest was from the very end of Volume 10, where Mamoru put a hand to his heart and wondered why his chest was so warm, as if there was a star inside of it. And Usagi explains how everyone has a star in their heart.

That was sort of the end to this saga!

Let’s talk about the very end.

I wanted to write something a bit more lighthearted as an epilogue.

Here, Furina is finally getting that cake Fillian said they would save a few slices for her.

She's wearing the dress she wore in Act 2 of the play, with her vision attached as well!

But of course, we have Neuvillette appear, who looks like he's a scary dog from afar lol

I wanted them to dance again. I like dancing, and I feel like it's a good parallel to what they did in Act 5 of the crazy dream, and what she did with Fillian.

I keep doing the whole "Neuvillette is a wall" thing, sorry. I just really like the idea.

I wanted Furina to know that it was him who gave her vision to her. I mention the vision multiple times, so I thought it was a good way to end it all off.

My favourite part of all this is when she says 'I love you" to him, and the waters shoot up. It's so darn adorable!

And with that...the story is complete. Basically 43k words later.

After all this time, I managed to finish this story. It took me forever!

Thank you for reading all of this, I hope you enjoyed learning about my thought process behind it all!

I love these two to bits.

[smilindesperado]

I'd love to know more about your post-canon Mai fic if you're willing to share! I saw a previous post from you about how it's nearly ready to publish - is it fully written? How long have you been working on it? What's something in particular you're really excited about? Is it Maiko? (You don't have to answer all or any of these questions, of course lol. Just anything you feel like talking about, if you feel like talking about it!)

Truly thank you so much for asking @myargalargan I have been working on this thing for the better part of the past year so the brainrot is sooo real, and I have been dying to gush about it 😆

I'll post the summary here and then everything else below the cut because you gave me the opportunity to ramble and I will happily take it haha

Mai had always wondered what it felt like to be stabbed by the point of her blades. The 100 year war is over, but not everyone is happy.  Mai’s not happy either, but she’s beginning to suspect that her discontentment might be self-inflicted.  Fortunately, an old Master sees her potential. OR Mai finds her place after the war.  And gets a sword.

I've spent the last year plotting, outlining and drafting all 13 chapters - so in a way yes it's fully written, but also no because I edit everything to death. I finished the rough drafts at the end of last year (and some of the chapters are still truly rough but that's what second drafts are for i guess). I'm currently working through the second draft of chapter 5 which is the goal I gave myself to reach before I started publishing to give me a buffer of a couple of chapters at the ready. So it's close.

I'm really excited to get to the ending honestly and how everything comes together. The story came from a mix of scenes I had made for other fics that I really enjoyed writing, but I couldn't make sense of the rest of the plot so I ended up abandoning those wips. So it was really exciting finding a place for them that made sense and seeing the full picture with those scenes. And then also it was important for me to put Mai in a spot after the war that I think she would actually enjoy instead of just blending back into the background of royalty and politics.

I also really enjoyed writing her relationships with other characters, especially with those she's closest to - Zuko, Azula, and Ty Lee. I know you're a Sukka/Sokka fan so you should also know I am continuing my Mai & Sokka besties agenda and there's a fun little arc where they get to work together full of shenanigans (and Suki also gets to knock some sense into Mai)

And yes, it is maiko because I am incurable. I'd say it's:

A-Plot: Mai finding her groove

Followed closely by B- Plot: Maiko romance

Distant C-plot that could probably have been better developed but then I would never publish: some background political scheming that moves the plot forward

[libraryofneith]

Out of Mind - Chapter 9 (Joel Miller x Female Reader)

@hiroikegawa @evyiione @orcasoul @taz-97

*mrs weasley voice* Where HAVE you been?!!!! I know I know I'm sorry for my prolonged absence. I'm in my last year of uni, applying for post grads when all I really wanna do is write about our fav baby girl Joel Miller. If ever this happens again, which it probably will, worst luck I promise I've not abandoned you! I'm loving writing this fic and have big plans for new ones. Huge thank you to everyone who has liked and messaged me, assuring me that I have not been forgotten.

If anyone else wants to be the first to know when this fic is updated let me know and I'll add you to the taglist.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Summary: As you and Joel make the trade, your trust in him is stretched to its limits.

Warnings: [whole fic is 18+ minors DNI], it puts its age in the bio or it gets the block button, cursing, graphic descriptions of violence, attempted sexual assault, i'm going to put *** at the beginning and ending of any descriptions of sexual violence so you can avoid if necessary, Joel is still a dick, not me getting mad at him for things I made him do.

"you know I'd never let them hurt you."

"Do I?"

You

An icy wind startled you awake. The tip of your nose and cheeks had frozen where they'd been poking out of your sleeping bag in the night. You blew into your hands and tried to rub some warmth back into them, careful not to move the rest of your body or you'd wake Joel who was pressed up behind you.

You'd split the first few nights out of Boston, one of you resting while the other kept watch, but soon exposure to the elements had rendered caution impossible and you'd been forced to sleep at the same time, swaddled under both of your sleeping bags, desperate bodies clinging onto each other for warmth. Most nights you could feel Joel fighting to stay awake, body tensing up every time you started to relax until you hissed at him to quit it. Whether it was for fear of being attacked or refusal to accept any comfort from you was hard to tell.

Your body stilled as Joel shifted against you and you felt a familiar poke in your lower back. It had become something of a wake-up call recently, gently poking you awake on the rare occasions that Joel slept longer than you. It was a sensation with which you were familiar and you kept reminding yourself that it happened to a lot of people in your current situation and it didn't mean anything. Still, as a long, low moan rumbled in your ear you couldn't help but wonder which mystery woman was plaguing Joel's dreams currently. Tess? A ghostly apparition from his past? Or maybe, just maybe, you'd managed to worm your way into his sub-conscious. But you quickly scoffed at the thought. If Joel had any dreams involving you they probably involved wringing your neck.

Joel

She was in his dreams. Again. He always clutched her to him as if he already knew how she would slip away when he woke up. That was the worst part - spending his dreams coiled around her, nose in her hair, arms wrapped around her body, thrusting his hips, searching desperately for release - then waking up still embracing her but having to tear himself away, thanking whatever heartless God existed that she was such a heavy sleeper.

He pried himself away from her warmth, trying not to notice the way she immediately started shivering without him, prodding her until she woke.

"Time to get up."

"Mfff" was all the response he got.

"C'mon move your lazy ass."

"Go away."

"God, you would sleep all day if I let you. Gotta be the worst smuggler I ever seen." That got her up.

"How much further?"

"Not long, we should be able to reach em before sundown. Now remember when we're in negotiations…"

"You do the talking, I decorate the background."

"I know, Tess told me." Joel grimaced.

"What you do is try to be invisible. These folk don't play nice."

He would've much rather done this on his own but Tess insisted he needed back-up. He'd told her before that Ciara was her responsibility, not his, that she would be the only person to blame if she got hurt, but they both knew that was bullshit.

"You ready?" If she was rattled, she didn't show it, just nodded.

Unfortunately for them, Joel's estimations were exact: it was barely afternoon by the time they got to Marcus's camp. Guards frisked them at the perimeter, he noticed that one of them lingered a little longer than was necessary over her and he had to resist the urge to punch him.

"Let's go."

You

As you made your way through the camp, you had a distinct feeling of de ja vu. You hadn't encountered a group like this since before you came to Boston, after which you swore you'd never put your fate in someone else's hands again, fat lot of good that did. Now you felt like a fish swimming into a net.

This Marcus reminded you too much of Robert, except while Robert needed to hire bruisers to do his punching, this guy looked more than capable of striking his own blows. He gave a curt nod to Joel then his eyes turned to you and there was a cruel glint.

"See you've traded Tess in for a younger model." Joel cast you a furtive glance, but said nothing.

"You got what's ours?"

"We have what we promised" Joel responded, producing the collection of guns and ammo you and Tess had filched from the FEDRA base. At the time you'd been pleased to put your skills in climbing and creeping to use but now you didn't like the idea of giving this guy weapons. When you'd asked Tess what he was going to do with it, she rolled her eyes and said "Some light gardening. What do you think?"

"It's still mine till I decide otherwise." But he opened the trunk at his feet revealing a treasure trove of tea, coffee and batteries. You struggled to keep the greed off your face and you could see that Joel was doing the same.

You'd told yourself that everyone needed tools to survive and it was up to him what he used them for, not you. But now, as you looked at Marcus, you could see the faces of everyone you'd ever lost flashing before your eyes.

"It's all there" Joel said as Marcus rifled through the assortment of weaponry.

"Sure seems that way, but now I'm wondering if this is an entirely fair trade."

"It's not. We're giving you FEDRA level weapons in return for batteries n bullshit. You know as well as I do Marcus, that you're robbin' us blind."

"Might seem that way to you, all tucked away in that cosy QZ, but what's the feeling of a gun at your side compared to the feeling of a woman underneath?" Suddenly, you could feel the eyes of every man in the camp on you.

"What're you suggesting?"

"Give me n' my boys a turn with your slice and we'll walk away happy customers."

"C'mon Miller, don't be greedy. We ain't seen a woman in months."

There was a horrible silence. You couldn't hear anything but the ringing in your ears. Finally, Joel replied: "I don't share."

"Probably cos you scared em all away."

"Listen, I promise we'll give her back the same way we found her, more or less. I'll even throw in a few packs of cigarettes we got off a trespasser a while back. Been saving them for a special occasion."

The men were closing in on all sides now, like walls sealing themselves.

"How many packs?" Your stomach dropped.

"Three."

"Show me." Marcus produced the cigarettes with a flourish.

"J-Joel" you managed to stammer out.

"Shut up" Joel glared at you. "Unless you want a repeat of what happened in Austin."

Austin. That was his signal. Loosely translated, it meant trust me, even though things seem shit at the moment, I've got a plan. You have to trust me. And you did. At least, you thought you did.

Joel turned back to Marcus as you cowered behind him.

"At least lemme look at the merchandise."

Marcus beckoned him forward as you could feel his men shepherding you to their side of the camp. You felt a brush on the small of your back and you flinched, looking behind you, but all you could see was a sea of smirking faces.

You watched carefully as Joel went through the trunk. In a flash, you could see a glint of metal. Bullets. Joel must've stashed some in his coat pocket or sleeve. You glanced around, waiting for shouts of alarm or gunfire, but none came. Then Joel was looking at you, just for a second then back at Marcus, and you could see what he saw: under his jacket, a knife strapped to his belt, and a pretty hefty one. Could tear you a new one, or him.

Joel shut the trunk and stood.

"It's all here. I'll be back for her at midnight?"

"Done."

"You two boys escort our friend out of camp, I get first go."

"Right well, enjoy."

You cast one last glance over your shoulder as two huge men prodded Joel with their guns, leading him away from you, as Marcus placed a beefy hand on your shoulder and led you away from him.

*** You swallowed your tears, refusing to give this man the credit of seeing you cry, repeating to yourself, please help me to be brave, please help me to be brave.

"Alright sweetcheeks that's far enough." Bile rose in your throat as his hand forced your head down, pushing you onto your knees. You didn't want to look at him but he grabbed your chin, tilting your head up.

"This'll go a lot easier for you if you don't fight back. I'd hate to return you broken to my associate. That's just bad business."

His shout was cut off by you sticking your fist in his mouth. Teeth pierced your skin but you didn't flinch. You just grinned and said

You said nothing, just nodded and started to unbuckle his belt. You ignored his hand stroking your hair in a disgusting display of tenderness and focused on your task until it came loose. You met his eyes one last time, smiled, then stuck his knife into his groin.

Marcus groaned pitifully and collapsed. Before you could finish the job, you heard the rattling of gunfire and you took off back towards the camp where you could see Joel, having grabbed one of the men's guns, shooting his way through Marcus's men. Unfortunately one man he hadn't accounted for was sneaking up on his left side. Not his left side.

"this'll go a lot easier for you if you don't fight back", sticking the knife into his side.***

The man barrelled into him and had his hands around his throat.

"Let go asshole!" You screamed, plunging the knife into his throat before he had a chance to obey your order.

Joel stared up at you with bulging eyes as you pulled him up, then you both dove behind a crate as shots rang out all around.

"You go left, I go right."

"Real smart thinking giving these douchebags guns" you quipped, but Joel ignored you, responding:

*** You nodded, then edged to your left as Joel drew their gunfire away. It was criminally easy to put your knife through the first two guys but as you grabbed the third one and slit the blade across his throat, you felt a fist closing in your hair and yanking you back. You tried to scream for Joel but another hand clamped over your mouth. You thrashed wildly but to no avail, whoever it was had you in a complete grip. Then you were going flying, hitting the ground with a grunt and feeling your arms and legs pinned as you stared, in horror, at the face of Marcus, covered in blood but still very much alive.

"Guess you shoulda finished me when you had the chance instead of running to help your boyfriend."

"Get off me!" You yelled, turning your face away, the only part of your body you could still move.

Then a single shot tore through the air and Marcus let out a gut wrenching roar above you. Two hands appeared on his arms, ripping him off of you. You remained on the ground, gazing up at the tree tops until a familiar face came into view, tufts of grey and black beard matted with blood.

"I'm gonna enjoy this so much more." You looked around wildly. The sound of gunfire had stopped but you couldn't see Joel, just trees above you.***

"Joel." He helped you up, keeping a firm but not ungentle grip as you swayed in the breeze. The sound of a groan brought you back to reality. Marcus was squirming on the ground like a fish on dry land. A gun was pressed into your hand.

"He's all yours." Marcus whined as you approached.

"No wait, please I didn't mean it, take what you want, let me go, I'm sorry, I won't ever do it again, please…"

You steadied your hand and aimed for his forehead.

"This'll go a lot easier for you if you don't fight back" and you pulled the trigger.

"Are you hurt?" You gazed at Joel who was looking at you with concern. You threw your head back and laughed.

"Am I HURT?!" With a scream that you didn't even realise you were capable of making, you launched yourself at Joel, punching and kicking blindly, shouting "are you hurt? Are you hurt? ARE YOU HURT?"

Joel caught your fists.

"I'm sorry, it was the only thing I could think of." You kept kicking him. "I had to get their guard down and get them separated from their leader." You kicked him doubly hard in the shin. "Ow, stop, you know I'd never let them hurt you."

"Do I?" You screamed, "DO I KNOW THAT?"

Joel held your gaze as your voice echoed throughout the forest. You were suddenly, painfully aware of the death that surrounded you.

"We need to get out of here." You tore yourself away from him and started searching blindly for your pack."

Joel jumped, then followed you as you ran out of the camp.

"Ciara…"

"NOW!"

[mmmichyyy]

🖤gallavich fic rec list🖤

i combed through my ao3 bookmarks and tumblr archive so here are some (but not all!) of my fave one-shots, wips, completed fics and tumblr ficlets i read & reread this year, ranging from newer fics to ones published in the past years ✨ there's almost 50 (!!) recs here so hopefully you'll find something new to read 🖤

check out the fic rec list i compiled last year!

(i didn't include the fics i've already mentioned in the last list plus the endless fics posted this year to avoid making this list longer than it already is, but if i had infinite time & space i'd include them all 🥰 onwards!)

one-shots:

seal my fate by allyasavedtheday (s2 canon divergence)

fix me up by biblionerd07 (Mickey has a lot of scars. Ian has a lot of feelings about those scars.)

shut the door and let go by @tellmegoodbye (s3 sleepover re-write)

these days, life is better by biblionerd07 (Ian realizes Mickey is the most romantic guy on Earth.)

in the romance section by kissteethstainred (When Ian moves to a new area, he starts to frequent the local bookstore. Eventually he begins to visit the bookstore for the owner more than the books themselves.)

icarus is online by @mishervellous (AnonMate is all everyone is talking about. Ian wants in on it.)

beginners by @bravemikhailo (Ian and Mickey meet the day they graduate college and all they've got is one night together.)

start again by allyasavedtheday (A little look at how Ian (and Mickey) comes to terms with his bipolar disorder.)

falling for you without a second look by xylodemon (s3 roadtrip)

for his honey by @squidyyy23 (ian’s impressed when his husband’s business savvy helps them expand their farm. and he's going to make sure he knows it.)

'tis the damn season by @sweetcresta (Ian comes home for Christmas and old habits die hard.)

sneaking in by @ianandmickeygallavich (Sneaking into a movie feels different. It shouldn’t, friends go to the movies, families go to the movies. But….Ian can’t help thinking about the fact that it’s a classic choice for a date.)

eighty-four by kissteethstainred (college/time-travel au)

if you love me, won't you let me know? by kissteethstainred (college au)

five times mickey wears ian's clothes and one time ian wears mickey's by @teatimeallovertown (A brief look at the journey of Mickey and Ian through the clothes they share.)

i'd follow your love down a dead end street by zoeplacid (Ian Gallagher wishes his soul mate was Mickey Milkovich, but the universe seems to have other ideas.)

wildfire by ilostyournumber (Ian is a bipolar stripper and Mickey is deep in the closet and they try not to tear each other apart.)

'til our compass stands still by biblionerd07 (Mickey just assumed they'd have smooth sailing from here on out. It never occurred to him being in prison together might be the easiest part of their relationship.)

wips:

sweetpea by @whatthebodygraspsnot (shapeshifter!cat!mickey! 🐈‍⬛)

reckoner by @thisdivorce (Ian Gallagher is married, stable, happy working as a Paramedic and trying to start a family, but a chance encounter with the foul-mouthed father of one of his patients—who has more ties to Ian than either of them know—threatens to blow it all up.)

selfless acts of the illegal variety by @abundanceofnots (The last thing Ian Gallagher thought he'd be at 19 is married—and to a grumpy Ukrainian bouncer called Mickey who's barely said ten words to him since they first met, no less. But when a rare chance at love knocks on your door, you don't just send the cute guy in dire need of a green card back to his homophobic father in Kyiv, right?)

your question has been received by @celestialmickey (a tumblr AU with a bit of a twist)

change like shifting shadows by @thisdivorce (priest!ian)

bound & free by @sunoficarus (magic/fantasy + marriage of convenience au)

a beginner's mind by @spoonfulstar (a collection of stories that take place after the events of ch. 27 of you'll never see us again)

the fine art of falling for you by @goodkwuestion (Teaching the Arts is hard enough, but mastering the art of falling in love might just prove downright impossible.)

paragraphs by @palepinkgoat (Ian has an opportunity to be a reading tutor for ex-convicts. He meets one in particular that catches his eye.)

things beyond mistake by @gallavichy (Ian, a high school teacher in need of a fresh start, returns to his childhood home after nearly 20 years to find himself once more sharing a lonely dirt road with Mickey, the boy he once knew and the man he's desperate to get to know.)

rebuilding (series) by freespiritedone (After almost 6 years in prison during which he was simultaneously built up and torn down, Mickey is free and embarking on a brand new life in New York City. Everything is different and yet some things never change - even if he wishes they would. Coming to terms with a new life while contending with the old is harder than anything he could have imagined. *long, slow burn)

completed:

technically by @annatrow (Ian Gallagher has grown up in the foster care system for most of his life, and he’s pretty sure he’s got his future figured out. That is until he falls for the bad kid who is about to change the entire course of his life.)

please don't say i'm going alone by biblionerd07 (Ian shows up at Mickey's wedding and asks him to run away together. Somehow, Mickey finds himself stupid enough to say yes.)

geometric progression (series) by romanticalgirl (angsty s4 au) *sidenote: i reread this all the time when i feel down just to feel even more depressed :')

these foolish games by @suzy-queued (A workplace rivalry becomes a love quadrangle. With laser tag.)

through the dawn (series) by spock (a semi-au set in a universe where mickey and ian didn't grow up in the same neighbourhood.)

SLOML (series) by @good-then-dont (short fics exploring Ian and Mickey’s own exploration of their relationship in a world where 3x6 never happens.)

ian the friendly ghost by @sunoficarus (ghosts au where Mickey thinks the house he moved in is haunted because the doors seem to close on their own and his shit somehow gets neat and tidy and Ian's just a very polite ghost who's got a bit of a crush on the adorable grumpy guy who's just moved in)

the little things give you away by kissteethstainred (When Ian first sees them, he thinks they’re twins. They both have similar looks, with pale skin, dark hair, and blue eyes. They act similar too—both of them are quiet, they fidget in the same way, and they make some of the same facial expressions. Ian wants to know them.)

my nine lovers by @annatrow (Secret Agents Ian Gallagher and Mickey Milkovich find themselves working together multiple times over the course of ten years.)

mickey mantle vs. the t-rex by zoeplacid (angsty alternate s5)

broad-shouldered beasts by biblionerd07 (Six years after Mickey goes to jail, he's released on parole. He does his best to build a "normal" life and a relationship with his son while juggling the scars of his past.)

OSHA compliant by romanticalgirl (It's been two years since they broke up. And Mickey's got his life together. Which means it's about time for something to come along and screw it up.)

you make me feel human by dragona (In which Ian is a cold-blooded serial killer with a soft spot for a certain South Side asshole.)

tumblr ficlets:

fiction in the archives by @gardenerian (ficlets and 5+1 prompts)

what we talk about when we talk about love by @bravemikhailo (a collection of one-shots, ficlets and prompt-fillers originally posted to tumblr)

tumblr fics ✨ by @gallawitchxx (collection of ficlets, 5+1 prompts, scene fillers)

time travel au part one / two / three / four / five by @whatthebodygraspsnot (s1 ian & mickey meet their s11 selves)

who's more cold & happy husband weight gain by @iansfreckles (& all their drabbles!)

magic au & migraine ficlet by @arrowflier

& of course, check out @galladrabbles for a wide range of 100 word ficlets written by our talented community & @gallavichfanficlibrary for more specific rec lists ✨

[ladysomething]

Hello there lovely human 💛

I’m kind of going around my favorite writers and ask them for advice and insights about their process (so I can collect it all like a hoarder). I hope you mind sharing some wisdom with us 🥺

So what I just don't understand is how you can post as you write while maintaining this level of awesomeness in your writing. Without writing yourself into a corner and keeping consistency. And it is awesome, the first time I read "You and me, we got a big reputation" I stayed up till 4 in the morning to finish it and it left me full of emotion and hollow at the same time (the same way as when you finish a great TV show or a good book or an awesome video game leaves you feeling, like something beautiful just ended and you can never experience it again. The kind of hollow that leaves you wondering what to do with your life now, that your world has changed, where your chest is empty and full at same time).

Anyway, how do you approach your ideas? Do you have the whole fic plotted out before sitting down for the first chapter? Do you write in order? Does it always go the way you plotted it in the beginning? How long did it take you to plot out "Where you go I go"? Or "You and me, we got a big reputation"?

Anything you want to share about your process would be appreciated 💛

I'm trying to put into words my first actually long fic ever and I know it will be better if I post it after it is all finished, but it is also easier to keep up the momentum if you have readers on your side.

hi!!!

firstly, thank you for the love on big reputations. I'm coming up on a year since I posted the first one shot in the don't blame me series, and I'm feeling some type of way about that.

secondly ... man oh man. I'm gonna go question by question here, but I'm gonna put it below the cut because I know I'm gonna ramble.

well the first thing is that I'm not posting as a write, not really. I'm three chapters ahead, which for me is what I need to make sure I don't write myself into a corner. I'm far enough ahead that I can keep control of the narrative. some people like be further ahead, others don't need to be ahead at all, but that's about the appropriate distance for me, I've found.

it depends on the fic! wygig is pretty much entirely plotted out, yeah. big reputations was not. I had a general idea about where it started, how it was ending, and what I wanted to happen in the middle, but specific scenes weren't planned - not like wygig. GMTF I had specific scenes in my head that I wanted to write, but more I had specific emotions I was trying to capture, and I built the plot around that. in my original manuscript, I had the three acts planned out, the main plot points per act, and then felt it out as I went (which ended up meaning I had a serious pacing problem that is still unresolved, hence why it's still sitting in my drafts lmao). so yeah, it depends on the story.

I write in order these days, but I didn't used to. I've just found that, for me, writing in order means that it forces me to keep writing, because I HAVE to go through all the boring scenes to get to the fun scenes. I use it as motivation, but that doesn't work for everyone! it certainly means that sometimes, by the time I get to the fun scene, I've forgotten what I had planned for it, so I have to build it all up again lmao.

no it doesn't always go the way I plotted! characters often do things I hadn't planned for them to do - sometimes good, sometimes bad. I've been going very rogue recently with wygig, as @saiyanwitcher can attest to. she's had to reel me back in quite a lot recently haha.

oh god, it took @saiyanwitcher and I probably .. I'd say we worked on plotting wygig for a solid month before I started writing - BUT the major caveat here is that I was writing the brocedes fic while we were plotting it out. so I refused to start writing wygig until I finished that, which meant we spent more time on plotting than I usually would. and then we revisit plot points as I get closer to writing them - see what can be kept, what needs to be deleted, what needs to be changed to fit the rogue elements I've inevitably introduced lmao

as I said, I didn't really plot big reputations out like I did with wygig, so that didn't really take any time at all! haha

as advice for putting together your first long fic ... what I'll say is this. I've been writing for almost 15 years at this point. I didn't even realise that I was coming up with a way to write that works best for me until I'd already done it.

I realised I needed people to give feedback as I go. I need to have written a lot in advance, before I start posting anything, so that I know I can finish it under my own steam and that my interest will continue. I need to listen to my mind when I get bored, and take a few days break from writing - but I can't go more than a week without touching a fic, otherwise I won't go back.

they're all things you'll learn along the way!

I also think you should try not to compare yourself to others. if you try to match what other people are doing, you'll never finish, because you'll end up disappointed in one way or another. it's easier said than done, for sure, but if it's your first, give yourself some slack and take everything as a learning experience!

and remember, above all else, to write for yourself. if your always writing for yourself, writing what YOU want to see, the motivation is easier to find.

[optiwashere]

WIP Wednesday

Holy shit, it's actually on a Wednesday this time?

I really wanted to do one of these this week since I've gone a bit rabid on a few WIPs.

I'll post a little bit about each of those WIPs later, some snippets and a blurb about why I'm so excited. But first! Folks to tag! Since I'm so excited for these, I'm gonna tag a lot this time.

If you have anything you want to share WIP writing-wise, please do... @quitefair @bottombatch @siyurikspakvariisis @causticcontemplation @jasminethetransvampire @underworldobsessed @assarivanguard @amorficzna @funwithnix @askweisswolf @linka-from-captain-planet @tief4tief

If you don't want to do this, or have nothing you want to share, feel free to ignore. If anyone else wants to do this, please feel free to consider yourself tagged. Now, onto my obsessions.

WIP 1: New chapter of Nightsongs

After spending some chapters in a kind of angst zone after the relatively light (relatively) first 4-5 chapters, this next chapter is going to be a kind of upswing. There's lots left to do with the AU, so I'm expecting to chug along and write more and more as time permits.

This AU is a lot for me to handle, especially after having so many chapters ready to post and then... falling way behind on writing the chapters afterwards. But it's fanfiction, and we're having fun here. So, who cares? The game's fandom heyday is already over, so at this point I'm just writing whatever feels best to me.

This chapter is mostly done, I think. I'm giving it a few days/a week to sit before I go back to edit it with fresher eyes. Also, we return to Ash's POV!

Lae’zel walked into Ash’s back office without a word on the seventh day and Ash nodded her way without looking up. Papers sat in strewn piles all over the desk, a handful of old incident reports and assessments that still needed working for Wulbren’s accountants. The absolute worst part of the job remained for the year – paperwork – and Ash intended to get them caught up in the hours that remained of her day. It was a useful, meaningful task. It gave her something else to think about. Anything other than green eyes. “We should talk,” Lae’zel said, sitting down without being offered one of the folding chairs in front of the desk. “Aren’t we doing that?” Ash scanned the paper in front of her and quickly jotted down her signature. [...] “You begin working on a van,” Lae’zel said matter-of-factly, counting off on her fingers as she spoke. “You talk to a pretty girl. You suddenly work more often on that van. Then, you disappear inside yourself and act bitter all day because suddenly the girl no longer shows up. There is more to it than you say.” “I think this might be the first time you’ve spoken more than five words to me, you know that?” Ash chuckled. “Am I that obvious?”

WIP 2: New chapter of Blades in the Night

The need to write more plot for this has been burrowing in my skull for a long time. I initially stopped myself from writing too much of it because I wanted to do Nightsongs first in its entirety before getting to this, but I think I'm just too impatient for that.

I also love the fact that this fic turned from a simple PWP one-shot into this much more expansive, plotty story that's now pretty important for what I want to do with my babies post-canon. Something about that makes me smile.

Plus, you know how I've been lamenting my inability to write happy endings for certain characters?

Either way, this isn't really complete, but the hardest part is complete and now I just have to start connecting the dots and filling in the blanks. I'd say it's about a third done?

The room filled with the same aura of a distant gaze leveled their way that Shadowheart had felt back in the cloister. Asheera had made an oath to protect Shadowheart then, and the flooding of a dense, real presence had nearly swallowed her whole in the cloister's barracks. A weight of importance sunk down on her shoulders there in Hobb's Hovel as well. A smell like molten metal cooling lilted in the air with a lingering, acrid tang. It tasted of blood in Shadowheart's mouth, as if the forging was tainted with some other foul presence in the mixture. [...] Little could have compared better to that feeling of a weight lifted from her shoulders. Worry disappeared and gave way to earnest joy in Shadowheart, and she thrived on it. She hadn't felt such keen happiness since she'd been so readily accepted into Asheera's family by her parents.

WIP 3: Gauntlet of Shar fic

Wow, I know! I've been talking about writing this fic for so long that it's almost become a sort of mythical never-to-be-slain beast for me. I'm not normally someone that talks about my ideas too often, I just write them before they can flee me.

I tend to also get in my own head about what I "should" be writing in the first place. Frankly, I'm getting kinda tired of writing so many ships, though fear not - I'll still have ideas that can only work with ships that aren't Shadowheart/Asheera. It's just that, for a while, I want to focus back on my loves.

This fic is one of those that I've wanted to finish for months. I know that at this point in the fandom's life cycle, I'm pretty much writing just for the dedicated, lovely folks that still read my stuff and I'm extremely happy to have y'all around! Maybe this will make Light Casts a Shadow ring a little more true for some, maybe it will be just another fic that I post, who knows.

Also, one thing I'm planning on experimenting with for this fic is alternate endings for Fun. This is a fic where the ending hinges on choices that Shadowheart makes in the game, so it's only fitting that I explore what would happen if she made those other choices.

But anywho, enough blabbing. Excerpt time!

Those touches and more, Asheera cherished. She watched in silence as Shadowheart turned her devotions to each of those tasks. Perhaps it was the nature of clerics to give themselves entirely to seemingly mundane tasks much the same Asheera felt compelled to consider her oaths in nearly every conversation, battle, or even moments like Shadowheart carefully buckling a cuisse to her leg with straps of leather at the backs of Asheera's knees. Fingertips trailed against her clothed skin, and Shadowheart stood up once more. "There," she said, "all's taken care of, then. Tell me, how's my handiwork? Be honest. I can handle the criticism." Asheera brought her balled fist to her chest in an arm curl. She flexed the elbow out and tested her shoulders, knees, ankles, and hips for motion. None of the plates caught on one another, and none of the straps across her hands, arms, knees, or chest restricted her. "Perfect," Asheera said at last. "Marvelous work." Shadowheart offered a quick smile. "I'll take a Gondian's compliment on such things any day." "Can't say I would've done a better job." "Ah, there's the honesty I was waiting for. Truly, where would you be without me?"