#one day I'll get over myself and write a proper fic like this

[viperwhispered]

Oh to have Jamil Viper look at me with desire in his eyes and tell me to do whatever I want with him.

Oh to make him whimper and beg and moan and tremble. Tease his cock until he aches, overstimulate him until all he can do is whine.

Have him kneel before me, tie him up, touch him everywhere, pull his face between my legs and keep him there as long as I want...

Coughs

Definitely not thirsty tonight, why do you ask?

[pyrriax]

ANYWHO goodnight tumblr i'll be back on the art grind tomorrow i think 🙏

[vole-mon-amour]

I don't know if I'll write this fully when I have the time and energy (depends), but I know that if I won't get it out of my system, I'll forget & I don't want that.

The short idea is: a body of water (a river or a big lake). A magical fruit tree whose trunk is fully leaning over the water, so the chances of shaking it really hard and getting the fruits are close to zero. The three grows several kinds of fruit at once: peaches, plums, apples, pears.

Halsin and Astarion have been on the road for several days. Halsin is hungry as hell, they're low on food and money (and the damn druid absolutely forbids any kind of stealing, and it's not like they've encountered a lot of people to steal from on their travelling). And here's the tree, right in front of them.

The catch is, not only can Halsin not climb the tree (he'll probably end up in the water, either out of his clumsiness or because one of the branches/trunk snap under Halsin's weight and size), but he is also magically wounded in a battle.

Why does it matter that he's magically wounded? Because he can't heal himself. No potions or spells he has tried worked, so the healing is very, VERY slow. So climbing the tree and picking the fruits himself is out of the question—dor the reasons of mentions above, for also out of fear to make the damage way worse.

So, we have Astarion that bravely climbs up the tree (doesn't even complain much, he'll do things for Halsin he didn't do before for anyone else—because he cares for him very much), picks enough food that lasts them (Halsin, because Astarion mostly feeds off Halsin's blood—his favourite meal/treat) for days. Then jumps down in the water, makes several in-and-out of the water while carrying the fruits in his shirt.

And all I can think about at that point is Astarion being a wet cat in this situation. Up the tree (he's the beauty, he's the grace; he also knows how to pick pockets, so this should be twice as faster and easier), in the water collecting the fruits (hair sticking to his forehead, a bit grumpy, sopping wet cat),getting out of the water (the clothes sticking to his entire body and it feels horrible), sitting next to Halsin—Halsin is in the shade, Astarion in the sunlight in his underwear while his dripping clothes are drying on the tree. He tried to squeeze the water out of it, but of course it's still dripping.

Halsin probably watches his attempts, then calmly offers a hand (even two) ("Let me help you with that") while also flirting and thanking Astarion in the process. It was a really nice thing that he did, considering he's still unsure of the water and it doesn't always feel nice.

I can also imagine Astarion either wanting to try and get dry in those soaking wet clothes (unsuccessfully, obviously) until Halsin suggests he takes the clothes off. Or having trouble removing the clothes/himself out of the clothes because it's clinging to his body, it's heavy, and he's already been in the water for long enough and he is now kind of overwhelmed. So Halsin helps him get rid of the clothes in his usual calm demeanor, squeezes as much water as he can and hangs it to dry.

And in a while, when Astarion's body is dry again, Halsin offers him a spare change of clothing. When Astarion refuses (hell wait for his clothes to dry, thanks very much), Halsin wraps him in a light blanket and makes him sit in that blanket until the clothes are dry—not only it's important to protect Astarion's pale sensitive skin from a possible sunburn, but to protect from getting sick. The wind, the cold lake water, and a burning sunlight can be a cruel and unpredictable mix on him and his well-being (assuming he can get a cold).

Also, I'm still 100% sure Astarion is a cat. So he acts like one, and Halsin is his well loved, loyal bear. And they're a very, very cute couple.

So.

Would anyone be interested in reading/drawing that? No writing that, please, I want to keep the idea for myself in case I do write it into a proper fic.

[brineoffire]

Uuuuuuh hi, hi howdy! I've been super possessed by the need to see more male centered fics with the poly!141 soooo here's a bit. I honestly haven't played the games, but I've been looking into the lore because I'm so hyper fixed on the 141 rn. Bare with me, I haven't posted fics here before and definitely never written army anything. Please please please lemme know if you like it even a lil and I'll type up some more.

Fic notes!

So I saw someone talking about a reader who's in it for the money and I liked that idea- tweaked it a little but the basic jist? Mc loves vidio games so much they went to school for it, can't pay, joins the military to pay it all off. I'm writing this chapter ambiguous on gender so far, but I'm writing with a trans!masc reader here because fuck. I can't find much so better make it myself.

-Edit I forgot to put the title here rip

The Right Price

You can't help but stop to think about how you needed to stop biting off more then you can chew. It's been a few months since your recruiter told you all about the joys, wonder, and honor that comes with serving. You where in the second she told you about the pay. Too many student loans, too much microwave ramen, the list went on, but fuck it yeah? You where the one that said that in the first place when you signed up for your courses. The basics, programming, coding, digital design a bit of physiology because of personal interest. You where over the top when it came to studies. Didn't bother you none when you couldn't have a social life. If you weren't busy studying you where quite literally inhaling any game you could get your hands on. But now when you had to fork over the bill money? You started singing another tune.

So here you are. On the training grounds with the rest of the folks recruited at the same time as you.Your sargent was barking out orders for you all to start your runs one by one, but some smart ass was holding up the line. You actually agreed with half the shit he barked back at the your troop leader, but damn it, you didn't want the consequences.

"That's it! You wanna run your mouth? You can all run double to catch up with Marco's mouth! Now!" He yelled white fisted. The remaining lot of your groan and grumble, starting the run together now at double time to hopefully finish before lunch call. Seven miles was what you had all gotten used to. Seven miles of uneven terrain, hurdles and dives, inclines and ramps now lengthened to fourteen.

"Oh fuck off Marco!" One of the recruit remarks, smacking said recuit behind the head before taking off on a spint. Several others join in on mocking the guy before bolting trying to get it over with. You shake your head as you catch up to him and clap him on the shoulder.

"They'll chill out later man just gotta grit and bare it more y'know?" Marco yanks was shoulder away from you, giving you a nasty glare before taking off too. You raise your brow at that, curious to what set him off before shrugging, taking the course at your normal pace with a hand full of the others. Better late then fatiged. The little spat dosn't bother you anyway. You'll all be split into your first teams in less then a week. You doubt he'd even be grouped with you anyways.

Oh how wrong you where. How very. Very. Wrong. It was actually laughable at this point, because you where either grouped together because your Sargent knew you got under Marco's skin for some reason or because fate wanted to see the drama unfold. You took that as a personal challenge either way. Snapping back snarky retorts anytime Marco decided to fuck around, until one day he had you cornered with a handful of others, in your face yelling about how "your kind" didn't belong in the military let alone the states. You let him finish his rant. Something, something, something, God damned, something, something, blight all the good christians, something, something, belong in the kitchen like a proper bitch.

Oh. Okay. There it was. You laugh in your head. No. Outloud. You flip the positions, getting uncomfortably close to the fuckers so they back off some and spout of some tibits you learned in your phycology classes about the brain being easy to manipulate. Quiet anger radiating from your low tone, keeping it quiet to force them to listen harder. You throw in some extra bs about how you could probably "turn" the lot of them given enough time. That them speaking more shit would be an agreement for him to test his theory. They back off after that, but report you all at once for "harassment". There being no evidence for anything you're transfered to one of the other split groups. Half made up of people you didn't enlist with. Mabey this crop would yeild better results yeah?

Nah. You jinxed it. You know you did. Oh well. This time it's just one guy though. And all it takes is a bit of reverse phycology to have the guy questioning his own damn identity so bad he's sent to the on duty therapist. You're transfered out this time by a different woman. Laswell. She heard out your full story of your transfers and unlike your last transfer she gave you a garentee that she'd make sure to find a good fit for you. You shrug and thank her. No matter what you had to tough it out anyways, you needed that pay check after all. Had no where else to go.

It goes sour when you head with her to a base near Wales. You where supposed to go talk to her about setting up here overseas for a while. Something about spreading out more newbies anyways. You really don't understand half of it so you just agree and you're off to training on this base. As long as you're here you're expected to keep up with basics and the routine set by the Sargents and that's fine by you, whatever to pass the time at this point. They run a drill with half the team ment to run a faux attack on half the base and the rest made to counter. You're getting prepared to counter the fake attack when alarm bells are ringing. That's definitely a little over the top. Usually they just yell over the loudspeakers and... You kinda blink a few times before you realize your group of rookies is being pressed to the armory. It's not a fucking drill at this point. This is NOT what you came here for but, oh fuck here you go! You've played too many games for sure. Mabey it's time to cut back. Because you're immediately focused. Immediately setting up the scene in your head to get you in a headspace where it's all a game. It helps you focus and damn you really need help with that right now.

There's active rounds being fired a ways away from the base as you all are suited with gear and munitions. You've trained for this but damn if you ever thought you'd ACTUALLY use any of that shit. You always imagined it was for show, like how you never use any of the fucking math they taught you anywhere.

You're moving on a sort of autopilot, moving out to a defensive manuver outside, staying under cover like you're told until your unit arrives halfway out, between the fighting and the base. It's impossible to see much past a thick smoke blanketing half the scene but you all move out, groups of three fanning out for any injuries and more importantly, any hostiles. You and your group are about to get to your second vantage point when you catch something they don't, you call out a group of several hostiles over what looks like a member of the base before realizing there's radio static.

Fuck it. Risking your life might score you some bonus merit, some extra cash somewhere along the line, you don't know. You're just trying to rationalize why the hell you bolt for the man, keeping low, keeping quiet until your almost upon them all. You get close enough to make out the British insignia on the man's arm. You've definitely seen him on the base before, and now here he is, no weapon in sight, surrounded by four hostiles. You slow your approach and aim carefully, making sure to get the kill shot on one of them, the spray of bullets catching another in the arm gives you enough time to aim for one of the other ones. You've definitely played too many vidio games but you're damn sure that's what kept you from being shot on your first unofficial day of active duty. You roll. Fucking barrel roll on the ground, with enough force to get you away from the spray of bullets from the last uninjured hostile as you stop yourself and make the shot on him. Dumb luck is what you chalk it up to as the fourth guy falls, letting you finish off the second man as he scrambles to retrieve his weapon.

"Up! Up! UP!" You yell to the man on the ground. You don't notice the look of utter confusion from the guy as you rush to help him to his feet. You've gotta get him back to base or at least the rest of the team and out of harms way. So you sprint as fast as you can as soon as the man's up, keeping to your side as you keep an eye out for anyone else hostile or otherwise. You try your radio again, but nothing you backtrack enough to find the spot you last saw your little team and find them under fire, one covering a wound on the others arm, panicking. You're quick to take over, playing out the scene in the same mind set you started out with. Mission in mind. Quest line to follow. You snap the other guy out of it enough to instruct him on how to stop the bleeding properly and grab the injured mans weapon from him, shoving it into the man's hands and directing him to cover you. Again, your oblivious to the look of pure confusion from the man and your uninjured teammate as you work to bandage up your fellow recruit.

You all make it out in one peice, the base being cleared of the small force that attempted to overtake the base. What you don't learn, and no one bothers to tell you. Is that the man you "saved", Captain John Price, has been talking with Laswell. Not so much talking with her as TO her. Your in it for money? Perfect you'd definitely agree to join the 141 with the pay difference.

"John you can't fucking do that. This kid is green. Way too fucking green! They weren't even supposed to be pulled into active duty! They should have been benched with the newer recuits, not out with their seniors!"

Price laughs and shakes his head. "No. This one's got potential and I wana see how far it'll take em." He was impressed by how some rookie was able to show enough guts to help him when the odds looked bad. He had everything under control, but damn if your actions weren't something interesting. Rolling out of line of fire and still keeping a steady aim? That's quite the task, he boasts for you. Hell, you didn't even think twice about Price's rank or authority, your focused was on recovery and living while taking out the hostiles. As much as Laswell regrets to say there's not much reason to deny Price. His eye for talent really was spot on. What could go wrong in all actuality? She trusted Price, and hasn't let her down yet.

"Fine. But I'm keeping a close eye on this set up."

Price grins as he looks down at your small folder, thanking her and flipping through the pages again. Tomorrow you'd be flying out with him to your new base. Joining the 141 as a tech specialist.

[asidian]

F for the Fic Writer ask game, please!

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Oh, man. Bold to assume I remember my own dialogue after I've written it.

Um, okay, these are probably not all-time favorites or anything because my brain writes over things like an Etch-a-Sketch after I post things and kick them out into the world, but I'm going to say, recent things that come to mind:

The entirety of Sharing.

God, writing this fic was painful. Cannot possibly recommend writing a seven-way conversation about serious-business topics. It was like pulling teeth.

But! I got it done, and I feel like the characters' voices came through, and somehow it went more or less where I wanted it to go.

I was also quite proud of the conversation at the start of Pixie Dust, for its pacing, playfulness, contrast between the character voices, and, lets be real, the opportunity to write the ever-put-together Edwin Payne saying truly humiliating bullshit.

"Alright then," says Charles. "Up you get." "I'll have you know that I am perfectly fine where I am," says Edwin. He says it crisp and proper, careful in the way of a bloke who's properly trollied and busy pretending he's not. "Sure, mate," says Charles. "Cause you're all about naps in the middle of a bloody hedge maze. Big hobby of yours, yeah?" It's a brilliant hedge maze, honestly – posh and put-together. Fountain at the center, flowers round some of the bends. Somebody's got to be out here trimming it every other day. It'd be better if it wasn't for the mushroom circle Edwin's lying in the middle of just at the moment, but there's no helping it when it comes to pixies. Bloody menaces, the lot of them. Charles kneels down by Edwin's side and gets an arm around him – levers him up to sitting. Edwin blinks, slowly, like he's some sort of owl that just got walloped upside the head with a rolled-up newspaper. "I am not prone to naps at all," he declares, as though he suspects Charles has gone daft. "I know," says Charles. "Funny, innit? But here you are." Edwin blinks again. He looks down at the mushroom circle, and then up at Charles. "Charles," he says. "You have the most remarkable eyelashes." "Right," says Charles, and hauls him up to standing. "Time to get you home, mate." Edwin staggers, and Charles loops an arm around him. Odds are good he'd have gone right over, otherwise. He's listing like he's well and truly off his face. "Your eyes as well," Edwin says. "They are quite fetching, framed by those cosmetics of yours." "We'll just pop inside, yeah?" says Charles, guiding him toward the entrance of the hotel. "Posh place like this'll have a mirror in the lobby." "And your mouth is really quite fascinating," says Edwin. "I find myself distracted by it from time to time, truth be told." "One foot in front of the other," says Charles. "There's a good lad." Edwin leans in a bit more, and for just a tick, Charles thinks he's going to go down. He's not, though. He's just sort of – nuzzling, a little. "I think about kissing you quite a lot," Edwin says. "I rather like kissing you, you know." Charles rather likes kissing him, too. The past couple months have been pretty brills, honestly, after he got himself sorted and had a sit-down with his feelings. He's never been in love with anyone before, but he's in love with Edwin Payne, he thinks, if he's got any idea what love is at all. He's in love with Edwin's smile, and the way he steeples his fingers upside down before he makes a right tosser of himself, and how he bloody sashays across a room like he owns it, and how properly invested he gets on board game nights, and – well, kissing him. That, too. But there's a time and a place, really. "If we were to kiss now, no one would be able to see us," says Edwin. "Regardless of how thorough we chose to be." "Bloody hell," says Charles. "How much of that stuff did you get on you?" He leans back, slightly, to get a better look at Edwin, who's smiling faintly, pupils entirely blown. "Quite a lot," says Edwin, serenely. "I think I may have swallowed some." "Course you did," says Charles, and walks the both of them straight through the wall into the hotel lobby. "Bloody fairy circles are nothing but trouble."

[buggyboba]

⁺˚☽ Ꭺᏼꮻꮜꭲ ꮇꭼ⁺˚☾⁺

You know I realized I never did a full-blown about me that I can use as a pinned post and sort of hub for everything. I’m not very good at them, but we’ll make do. Also, I want everyone to congratulate me on being the dumbest bitch in the room, I finally figured out the 'small' text stuff....jfc.

Hello! I’m Buggy, She/They, disaster, well over 18, Jurassic even. I have two cats (Ezio & Ringo) and a pitbull (Cassie). 

Um, my primary fandom currently is Doctor Who, but I had been a roleplayer for too long across many fandoms (DC, Marvel, Sherlock, Supernatural, Harry Potter). I don’t roleplay anymore; I have focused on writing fanfiction instead, roleplaying with myself as you do. I do a few different things to keep myself busy; besides writing, I stream occasionally on Twitch. I am not a professional, but I have fun. I mainly yell and die in the game, but sometimes I’m really funny. 

As for writing, I am fairly new to the fanfiction game. I’ve only done it a few months; I started being actually active in April! I started as a Missy x Reader blog, and I like to think I have expanded more, being more comfortable in writing for The Master (Simm & starting to get a feel for Dhawan) in general, as well as adding a few more characters. Speaking of which, I am going to break down the characters I am comfortable writing; I have even thought about opening up to start writing for a few more fandoms. A pattern will become clear; Idk what it says about me. 

DOCTOR WHO|

Missy/The Master 9th Doctor/10th Doctor/12th Doctor/14th Doctor Kate Lethbridge-Stewart DC|

Jack Napier/The Joker (Dark Knight)  Jonathan Crane/The Scarecrow (Dark Knight, ArkhamVerse) 

HARRY POTTER| Bellatrix Lestrange Tom Riddle Draco Malfoy (*of age)

The pattern is that I primarily write the ‘villains'...oopsie daisy. 

ANYWAY, Requests are open; if you send one in, please tell me if you want sfw/nsfw. It might take me some time since I am drowning in kinktober, but I do try to do requests first, cause I love you all. Come 'ere, let me kiss your foreheads.

But that is me in a nutshell; in the beginning, I didn’t know what was proper etiquette for interacting, so just I didn't, and that was my fault. I am getting better, I am just a little socially anxious bug, but I want to thank each and every one of you, to everyone who reads my works and likes/leaves kudos, comments, and reblogs; you all mean the world. Just know I get very happy about any interaction! And to everyone who follows me, welcome to Jackass baby! We have no clue what we are doing here, but it’s chaotic and wild. 

Under the read more will be the master list/tag list stuff.

MASTERLIST

Ao3 <—where you can find the fics all together.

*- Smut

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

DOCTOR WHO |

★Kinktober 2024★* [ x ]

Series | 

★ Missy x reader ★

Surrender Your Mind 

Part One Part Two Part three*

↳ ○ You have had the worst kind of day, and it is only going to get worse when you get swept up in the life of one renegade time lady, taking on the part of an unwilling companion to find out why you are being targeted by assassins, if the target is her.

Drabbles | 

This Will Be The Day [x]

↳ ○ Reader wants a romantic date, Missy has an idea to spice it up. She was a seasoned swordsman, but you were not, you couldn’t win fair and square so you did what you had to, distraction and cheating.

 Me And The Devil [x] * {Vampire!Missy x Female Reader} ↳ ○A game of cat and mouse, leads to feeding your vampire alien and more. 

Within Your Heart I'll Place The Moon [x]

↳ ○Missy takes you to a masquerade ball, and well it feels very final.

Imagines |

Imagine watching a horror movie with missy [ x ] ★ Dhawan!Master x reader ★

Drabbles | 

Lazy Day [ x ] ↳ ○ Anonymous asked: hi love, i saw you said your requests were open and id like to ask if you could write something about dhawan!master, where he and the reader are married and he fusses over her lots and makes sure she has everything she needs and all that fluff.

★ Simm!Master x reader ★

Drabbles | 

His [ x ] ↳ ○ Anonymous asked: spare some simm!master x transmasc reader perhaps???

Taglists|

Surrender your Mind [x]

General Missy x reader [x] Kinktober 2024 [ x ]

[gggoldfinch]

Ouh I love the ‘Questions for Fic Writers' questions!

#7 and #34 please 😎💖

HIIII RONNIEEEEE I LOVE YOU

questions for fic writers

7. How do you handle writer's block or moments of creative stagnation?

oh man! by suffering & dying usually!

No but in all seriousness whenever I'm stuck in a really bad moment of writer's block (usually and strangely due to my somewhat hardcore hormonal swings) I, after beating myself up over it (NOT A GOOD THING!) I take a step back and switch gears. Usually I'll read fic or a book, or do some sewing to try and fill the void that writing would've occupied. I generally need a hard reset in order to get back into writing.

34. Are there any fic writing tips or tricks you've learned along the way that you'd like to share?

First and foremost, you need to write mainly for yourself. Yes you can consider your audience, but at the end of the day fic is both unpaid work and entirely self-indulgent, so why not cater specifically to your desires.

Don't beat yourself up when inspiration doesn't strike, and don't push yourself when the words aren't coming. That'll only make the burnout worse (I always struggle with this one)

LEARN—and I cannot stress this enough—PROPER GRAMMAR AND PUNCTUATION. I've talked about it before on my blog but it's SO important not only for your actual fic quality and its engagement, but for your improvement as a writer to learn how to use proper grammar, spelling, punctuation, and paragraph separation. I had a whole post about it with links and everything but I can't find it now ....

[heyidkyay]

I guess I'll take this pain, instead of your name |

Part Eleven

A/n: Didnt get much sleep, kept thinking about this fic and so I spent most of last night writing and decided to finish it up once I got home this eveninggg, hope it's up to standard x

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, food, touch of angst but when is there not with these two?

Masterlist

--

I was guilt ridden.

I couldn’t help it. The sight of George leaving practically had me wanting to jump out of my seat simply to chase after him. I felt like such a bitch for even entertaining the idea of Sam, with him being sat right there beside me. Especially with us only just having reconnected.

I felt my heart shrivel up more and more the longer he was gone.

Matty’s giant huff retrieved me from my pool of culpability after a while, his eyes drifting between us. 

“Guess, I’ll go talk to him then.” He murmured as he pushed up out of the booth. He was gone before anyone else could even think to make an offer. Leaving only Ross and I to remain.

I chewed on the inside of my mouth, unable to do much else as a pair of claws dug their way into my mind. Ross took the moment to slide into George’s empty seat across from me, falling into my direct line of sight.

“You ever been broken up with?” I found myself asking him just as a few more people entered the restaurant. They created a little more noise which drowned out our conversation to anyone sat close by.

Ross pressed his lips together, clasped hands coming to rest on the tabletop between us. “Yeah? Think you’ve even been witness to a few.”

He quirked a smile over at me, probably in hopes to ebb some of the lingering tension, and I really tried to mimic it. If only to placate him.

I let go of the breath I'd been holding on to, looking at him properly now. “Alright, have you ever had a relationship like G and I's?”

Ross seemed to come up short at that and I watched him tilt his head ever so slightly to the left whilst he thought the unexpected question over.

After a moment he shook it, jutting his lip out as he shrugged at me. “Can’t say that I have. Seen it though, like with my mum and dad, Hann and Carls.”

I dipped my chin, gaze falling down to where my fingers were playing with a groove indented in the stained wood table. 

“I remember when I first met him, you know. G. He really didn’t like Matty.” I chuckled under my breath, recalling it all so vividly. “And Matt he’d been my best friend for ages, we’d always been proper close. And with something like that, there always comes this unspoken sort of code. Like there's a written rule that you automatically have to hate someone if they didn’t like your best mate. That sort of thing.”

Ross was nodding away at me, listening quietly.

“But George.” I sighed, “I couldn’t help but admire him you know? Matty’s always been this trapped ball of energy, and back then he’d always been looking for some sort of argument to start. It eased those nerves that were always there, I think. But G, he was gentle but so unafraid. He didn’t care that Matty was ‘Matty’, popular and well liked by everyone. He reckoned he was a proper twat and called him on it.”

Both Ross and I laughed then, probably both thinking back on the past. On the early days, before the band had properly formed.

“And when Matty roped him in as a drummer, I let myself become more aware of his presence. And we got close. Especially when Matty realised that girls had tits and would probably let him touch them if he was funny or charmin' enough. George was much less interested in all that. He was quiet, stoic. Mysterious. But I’d been quick in deducing him. I reckon he liked that, someone who didn’t comment on his silence, or call him out for being shy. ‘Cause he wasn’t.

“And looking back, I can see now that G was always more aware of things than what he made it seem. Like with my life at home- how he’d only ever be allowed over when mum was out, or how I always made you lot wait for me at the bottom of the road before school instead of knocking. He was smart like that, perceptive, I ‘spose. And so he spent more and more time hanging around me, a bit like an annoying fly at first. I used to get proper miffed over it. Complain to Matty constantly, but he’d always just laugh me off and claim that George was just an admirer. Harmless. And so I stopped talking to him about it and just let G tag along when and where he pleased.

“Don’t know when, but a little while after that I started to lean on him a bit. More than I should've. Reckon I wasn’t even aware of it though 'til it was too late. 'Til I realised how I felt. I depended on him always being there. And in the time we’d been together- and yes, I'm definitely counting the days when we used to run circles around each other, too scared to say anything- he’d just become my person, you know? He was my truth in a world full of lies.”

I exhaled slowly, the sound as heavy as it felt. Ross was watching me again, I don’t think he’d actually looked away in the time I’d spent talking, and so when he took my hands in his I sent a teary smile his way. Sniffing and unable to help myself.

“When he ended things.” I had to shake my head, still finding it hard to talk about even months later. “I questioned everything. Just kept on asking myself what'd happened, agonising over what I’d done wrong. Why he’d just leave out of nowhere. ‘Cause that’s honestly how it felt. One day we were fine, laughing, kissing,  just happy. And then the next… he was telling me he couldn’t do it anymore, that he was headed out to LA to work on the next album and wanted to explore his options.”

I had to pause then, breath hitching. Ross’s grip tightened, as though he could sense all the hurt I was holding back at having to utter the next words I was about to say. 

“He claimed he loved me, just that- he wasn’t in love with me. Not anymore.”

The choked sob that slipped from my lips was followed by a self depreciating chuckle and I had to pull away from Ross’s hold to wipe at my eyes.

“God, I’m sorry.” I sniffed to him, trying to smile even though my heart was well and truly broken.

Ross shook his head, leaning in closer to reassure me. “No need to be sorry. Just wish I’d’ve known how much it messed you up.”

His voice was small, soothing. I focused on it, on him. Just breathing. In and out. 

“Honestly?" He continued on, "I’d always figured that it’d been mutual. That you’d both sort of wanted to take a bit of a break, see what you’d missed out on having been together so long. But, this… if I’d known, I swear would’ve-”

Ross clenched his teeth, his hands fisted, and I had to laugh, because if I didn't I'd cry. I reached out to lay a hand over his.

“It’s fine, Ross.” I told him sincerely, “Well, it isn’t. But things happen, don’t they? And soon enough, I’ll be fine too.”

—MATTY’S POV—

Stepping out into the evening chill, Matty’s eyes were immediately drawn to the hunched figure that sat on the curb. He drew his cigarette pack from his coat pocket as he made his way on over, noting how George seemed to be toggling with his lighter.

“Thought you came out here for a fag?” Matty commented, making an ‘ah’ sort of sound when he perched down beside the drummer, both legs pulled in towards his chest. He plucked a cigarette from his own carton, tucking it behind his ear, and then took another between his fingers, letting it dangle there from the hand he’d rested on the jut of his knee. Just on the seams of George’s peripheral. 

George didn’t say much. Merely flicked his lighter closed. It was an old metal one he’d had since forever, one Matty often saw him fiddling with, whether it was on the bus, before a set, or alone in his bunk. In recent months it’d made more of an appearance.

Matty made a small movement of his wrist and that was all it took before George was taking the offered cigarette from him. The drummer raised it to his lips and lit it with an expert sort of ease. Matty followed and the two of them allowed the driving cars to pass them by.

On an inhale, Matty had finally had enough of the silence. But he supposed that with George he’d sort of just gotten used to it, to them communicating with the odd smile or pained expression. This wasn’t one of those times.

“You gonna say summat then? Or you just gonna keep being miserable?” He pushed, rolling his head over towards his mate. He wasn't about to let the whole thing go. Not without a reason. “‘Cause, if I remember rightly, you’re the one who wanted to tag along. I told you she’d be here, didn’t I? Said it'd be hard, awkward. But you still came-”

He was cut off then.

“Yeah, I know.” George interrupted, though he seemed to be doing an awful lot of that tonight. “Thanks for the reminder, yeah? But if you’re just gonna bitch, can you do it elsewhere?”

Matty made a face. He’d almost forgotten how much of a moody git the bastard could be. “Nah, fine here, thanks. Wanna know what that was all about though, in there.”

George went for another drag, continuing the staring competition he’d started with the off-licence opposite.

“G, come on, man. Why you acting like such an arse? Nothing even happened.”

George scoffed. “Hm, didn’t seem that way.”

Matty fought the urge to clap the twat on the back of his head. “Mate, you ended things with her. Not the other way round. You ain’t got the right to act all pissy about some lad flirting with her.”

“You think I don’t know that?” George spat back, smoke clouding him, hazing in the frigid air around them. “Still fucking hurts though.”

There was a long pause then as Matty took his words in. Confused, he stubbed out his butt on the curb's edge and pivoted towards him.

“What’s that meant to mean?”

George’s eyes closed and he released a drawn out breath. Matty observed him, seeing the tension that lined his jaw and hunched his shoulders, the slight hollow of his face that gave way to the fact that he was chewing on the insides of his cheeks, the way his fingers twitched and a frail ember fluttered towards the ground, dying on the roadside.

Matty realised how much of a prat he'd been. Wondered how he hadn't seen it sooner.

“You still love her.” Matty breathed out into the unanswered silence, his surprise evident.

George turned his face away.

“You still love her, don’t you?” He pressed further, forearms now on his knees to brace himself as he leant in closer. “G. Answer me.”

George’s free hand shot up to rub at his eyes, then at the bridge of his nose. He flicked the remnants of his cigarette away and hastily made his way to his feet. Matty was quick to follow, frowning as the two of them got caught in a standstill. He grabbed hold of George’s arm just before the drummer could turn away from him. Shut him out again, like he’d been doing so effortlessly for the past few months.

“Don’t swan away like nothing’s happened. Answer me, man. Do you or do you not still love her?”

George’s eyes were shining under the streetlamp, his emotions only further illuminated by the oncoming headlights of a string of cars. His face said it all, but Matty had to know, to hear him say it.

“Of course I fucking do.” George laughed pitifully, shaking his head before he glanced up towards the sky. “How could I not?”

—

Matty returned a short while later, alone. I peered over his approaching shoulder for any signs of the moody drummer but was left unfulfilled.

Thankfully Ross was the one to ask the burning question I was dying to know.

“Where’s G?”

An explosive sigh fell from Matty’s lips as he resettled himself in the booth. “Went home. Wanted an early night.”

My heart plummeted. Shattering on the floor by my feet once more, after having been held by the one and only George Daniel again.

“Oh yeah?” Ross hummed conspiratorially, but Matty was saved from his probing the minute dessert arrived, alongside Sam.

“A sundae and tiramisu for the bearded fella. Then for the artsy bloke, one hot chocolate.” Sam charmed as he handed out our order. His eyes fell on me next, his grin warm as he passed me my plate. “And a sweet brownie for the sweetheart in black.”

I smiled and thanked him softly. Blushing lightly at the comment, which was new for me.

After I’d plopped the plate down, I caught sight of Matty’s slight scowl when his flicking of the sugar sachets drew my attention. Ross thanked Sam profusely for the sweet treats and the man merely chuckled at him in amusement.

“Cheers. Can we get the bill now?” Matty said offhandedly, not even sparing Sam the courtesy of a glance and only further drowning the mood by acting all pissy.

“Um," Sam mumbled out, hesitant, but then he carried on like nothing was a bother. "No worries, mate. I’ll send it on over now.” He looked at me once more before he backed away.

“What’s with you?” I asked Matty quietly, Ross lost to his tray of desserts.

“Just tired.” Was all he said, shrugging the question off, “You alright?”

Matty seemed to perk up a little then, swivelling in his chair to better see me.

I didn’t really know how to answer him so instead I toyed with one of the serviettes.

“Is there any real way to answer that?” I laughed defeatedly, “I mean, I don’t know, Matty. Why'd you even bring him with you in the first place?”

“He’s our mate.” Matty quipped in a strange defensive tone, one I reeled back from slightly, and he must’ve noticed because he slumped away too, opting to swirl the marshmallow’s floating in his drink around. “Just, he’s having a hard time of it too.”

I scoffed, turning away.

“No really.” Matty was quick to iterate to me, I shrugged off the hand that came to rest on my shoulder. 

“What’s he got to feel crap about? I bet he’s been living it up large out in LA, fucking models, dating other musicians. Free from the likes of me.”

Matty frowned but it was Ross who jerked a long spoon over at me. I raised a brow.

“You keep mentioning LA, but… G’s not been to LA once since the split. Tour’s been in Europe and before that, he’d been kipping on my sofa.”

I blinked. Suddenly baffled.

“What?”

Ross just nodded though, seemingly unaware of my frail state. “Yeah, was gonna ask earlier but well, you know. Then you said it again and I had to ask.”

“Hang on, wait a sec. What has he been doing the last six months then if he's not been in LA?” 

I pitted the question towards the both of them. They were his bandmates, they were all extremely close with one another in the very weirdest but best sort of way. If anyone knew what George had been up to, it’d be them.

“Well?”

Matty and Ross appeared to share a look between them but before I could intercept it, Matty answered me.

“I think this is a conversation best left for him, love.”

My mouth worked to say a word or two, to argue, but I could only stare at him.

My entire world had been thrown off balance. Six months had been and gone, and the entire time George had been living just around the corner. LA had been a lie, moving on had been a lie, I couldn’t fathom it. He’d actually lied to me. The only person I’d ever counted on to tell me the truth without fail. And he’d lied, right to my face. 

I sat back in the booth. Head reeling.

I had to ask myself, what else had he been lying about?

—

I don’t know how or why. But for some reason or other, I’d ended up outside a house I didn’t recognise.

It was just on the outskirts of Hampstead, a two-storey town house with a small gated front garden and a white stoop. I blinked up at it, unsure on whether the directions Ross had given me were even right. But no, here I was stood outside number 12. And I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this.

Before I could lose my nerve I quickly slipped past the iron wrought gate and up the steps. Berating myself all the while, but unable to stop my feet. 

One of the upstairs lights were on, so I could only assume that someone had to be home, which only fuelled my nerves. But I swallowed thickly and let my fingertips reach out to grasp the knocker, letting it ring out twice.

I had to take a step back. Actually, I’d almost jumped back in my haste to do so, and was quick to save myself from falling down the flight I’d just climbed, breathing heavily at the sudden scare.

I knew my anxiety was palpable, so much so I was actually starting to feel hot even in the cold, but I chose to wrap my arms further around myself anyway to keep the wind from nipping at my skin and to hopefully ground myself some more.

Nervous was the farthest thing from how I felt, as a matter of fact I don’t think anyone had yet to come up with an adjective to describe the torment I was internally facing. And as I waited, it only seemed to grow. Festering beneath the surface.

I startled slightly at the sound of the door’s hinges and my eyes snapped up to meet his in the dim light. Thankfully, George only looked surprised to see me, but I wasn’t too sure how long that would last. 

He stepped a tad out to cast a glance down at the rest of the street before his gaze zeroed in on me again. “How're you even here?”

“Ross.” I shrugged, toeing the tiles outside his front door in my highly strung state.

George huffed out a small, very subtle chuckle. I watched him for a moment, seeing how he’d propped himself up in the doorway, eyes moving as he thought things over for a second.

I swallowed again and cleared my throat, bringing him back to the present. Seeing as I was still stuck outside and it was still freezing. “Um, can I come in then?”

He seemed to remember himself, blinking before he hurried to wave me inside. “Yeah, yeah ‘course.”

I dipped my head at him and gave him a tiny brief smile as I stepped over the threshold. Somewhat grateful for the warmth the hallway gave me when he shut the door behind us.

I felt rather out of place in that next moment. As though I was overstepping, trespassing into the life he’d built without me. Still, I let my eyes wander, taking in the narrow hallway.

A tall coat cupboard was kept opposite, and he had a pretty trinket bowl on top of the radiator cover he seemed to be using as an entrance side-table. A couple pairs of shoes littered the wooden floors just before the staircase and I could just make out the beginnings of a kitchen table at the end of the walkway even in the dark.

George spoke first, “You can hang your coat up if you want.”

Apparently, he was just as bad at hiding how he felt about all this too. Nervous and unsure as he nodded over towards the cupboard. I followed his suggestion and slipped my jacket off, leaving me in the thin long-sleeved tee I’d thrown on that morning. I silently prayed that it had no noticeable stains or anything, unable to remember on whether or not I’d picked it up out of the clean pile of washing. I tugged at my sleeve.

“Um, you just caught me rolling.” George then mentioned, gesturing upwards. “You wanna follow me up?”

I hurried to nod at the question and kicked off my boots, then up we went, the stairs creaking beneath our shared weight.

The house was mostly empty. I noticed that only a sparse number of pictures littered the place, all of them simply standing instead of mounted to the walls. I saw myself in one or two, but those were just of the five of us, or other group photos. None of just him and I. There were also no posters in sight. Though George had a few ornaments to offer his guests, most of which I recognised, but even then they were placed wherever; a giraffe wearing sunglasses waited at the top of the stairs and a couple of awards took up space on the landing’s shelf as we made our way past.

There were four doors up here, two of which were closed, one that revealed a spacious bathroom, and the last that George led me into. I supposed to most it would’ve been used as another bedroom or an office of sorts, but George had turned it into a studio. 

The walls had been padded with soundproof squares and it housed a large table that had been crammed with a deck as well as other essentials such as a mixing board and a dozen other things I couldn’t begin to name.

A sofa took up the far wall, softened by a bundle of blankets and pillows that reminded me of mornings when I’d wake up to find George fast asleep on the settee after he’d been up producing all night. 

His trusty laptop was on the end of it, alongside a pair of headphones, newer than the last one’s I’d seen him with. He had a fridge up here too and I didn’t even need to open it to know what it was stocked with. 

In the centre of the room though, there was a square coffee table. It appeared sort of antique, mid-century maybe what with the tiled top and dark wood. It was pretty, very George. It was also very much like George to be using it to roll his joints. I withheld a snort.

“Um, you can just sit anywhere.” The man who plagued my thoughts said then, picking up an empty cider can and tossing it into the bin before he moved to fix the sofa up for me. 

So that’s where I ended up, on the end just by the window whilst George shuffled his things around so that he could roll and talk to me at the same time. He ended up tossing a cushion onto the rug covered floor beside the coffee table a foot away from my socked feet. I pulled them up under me to give him more space.

“You left.” I said to fill the quiet which had enveloped us, but my words sounded loaded even to my own ears. So I hurried to explain, “I just, I mean- you left without saying goodbye is all.”

George’s eyes were on his papers and the small bag he held but I knew that his attention was on me. He licked at his lower lip, then nodded once. “Was tired, long day and that.”

I hummed, fiddling with the cushion I’d since pulled into my lap. “Matty mentioned that you wanted an early night. Wasn’t sure if I’d be waking you to be honest.”

I was laying out a trap and we both knew it.

“You know how I get. Got in and sleep felt like the last thing on my mind.” George shrugged, crumbling away now as he lined the paper.

I narrowed my eyes at him, not that he was aware of it. “So it wasn’t ‘cause of the bad mood you were in?”

He pursed his lips, he didn’t like being called out so blatantly. Even so he still wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Didn’t think you’d even notice to be honest.” 

I knew then that he was talking about the waiter and had to bite back the sarky response that poisoned the tip of my tongue.

“Pretty hard no to.” I murmured instead, glancing down towards the cushion to avoid seeing him look so unbothered by me.

I took the second to calm myself, lessening the hurricane my mind often span itself into before I took a deep breath and chanced a look back up at him. His joint had since been rolled and I berated myself for having missed it, it was one of my favourite pastimes, watching him roll.

George though, he held it in his lap now, waiting to be lit whilst he set his eyes on me.

My heart started to pound and I was honestly left feeling a tad worried for it, seeing as it’d really been through the wringer these last few days. But his eyes were on me and how could it not react to that?

“What about that other lad?”

I raised my eyebrows over at him, “What, Sam?”

He turned away, nose wrinkling somewhat as he reached across the table for his lighter. It was the metal one I’d gifted him more than a decade ago now. One that had formally belonged to my dad. A massive part of me wanted to reach out for it, to touch and make sure it was the very same. But I didn’t dare. I was just surprised to note that he’d kept it this long, let alone after the split. 

I hadn’t thought about it in forever.

I swallowed past the many feelings the sight of the lighter had roused, and formed another reply for him. One that might get him to answer me.

“He was just that, George. Another lad.” I looked down at him, watched as he sparked the lighter to start a flame and brought it to his lips.

“Seemed pretty keen.”

I wanted to groan at his indifferent responses. Had he always been this difficult? This dense?

“Yeah well, you seem pretty jealous for someone who supposedly doesn't care.” I sniped back, unable to help that one.

George’s jaw tightened but he inhaled and it loosened a fraction as a breath of smoke pooled from his mouth. He didn’t offer me a reply.

I huffed. Then moved from my seated position, reaching out across the room to steal the joint from between his lips. It was his next movement that stopped me short, he took hold of my wrist and dragged me closer. My eyes widened and I wondered if he was even aware of the proximity he’d created. 

“What’s this?” His brow had fallen into a deep furrow now as he looked my injured finger over, resting the lit joint in a nearby ashtray just as I slowly brought myself down to my knees.

I was a little startled by the change in pace, to be truthful. And so I didn’t have many words to give him. I seemed to snap out of it though when his dark eyes darted up to meet mine. He raised a brow. 

“Work.” I told him quietly, “Pair of scissors, it was an accident.”

“Deep?” George questioned me, I shrugged. “You take care of it?” I nodded at him. “Properly?”

I forced out a depleted chuckle, “Yes. Delia did. Cleaned it up nice and proper for me. Reckoned it didn’t even need stitches.”

He was already picking at the plaster before he even asked, “Can I take a look?”

I attempted to pull my hand away, but he just held on tighter and deadened his expression, not entirely pleased. How had we gone from walking on eggshells around each other to this?

“Why? I told you it’s fine!” I reasoned with him, but he merely blinked back at me. I sighed. “Alright, but only if you have something to cover it back up with. Blood makes me-”

“Squirmy.” George finished for me and I shivered at the thought. He shook his head but I was sure I’d seen the tiniest of smirks. “And I do. A box of plasters from where I sliced up my hand the other week.”

He released my hand just as my face fell into a pensive frown and went to stand.

“How’d you slice your hand?” I asked him, raising my voice so that he could hear me better as he puttered out of the room and towards the bathroom I’d seen.

“Cooking!” George called back and my frown only deepened.

“Cooking?” I murmured to myself, baffled or bewildered I wasn’t sure. In all the time I’d known George not once had I been witness to him in the kitchen. He could hardly even brew a semi-decent tea!

I listened to him moving things around in his search for the plasters, but he was back before I knew it. Only, he seemed to pause for a split second at the sight of me sat near the coffee table, as though he’d forgotten where he’d left me.

“Found ‘em?”

My question set him back in motion and he gave a jerky nod, though he was more warier of his movements when he retook his previous position on the cushion. He motioned for me to hold out my hand and I did so, lips pursing as he peeled away the previous tape.

“Ooh, that’s a pretty sight.” George hissed quietly through his teeth, looking the wound over.

I only stretched to glance at it briefly when he said that, having been rather content with turning the other cheek whilst he got a proper look at it. It was grim to say the least. The middle still clotted with dry blood, its edges white and pale.

“Oh! Fuck.” I grimaced at the sight, darting my eyes away quick as I could. “Is it really that bad?”

George’s light titter danced around the room, I felt his thumb brush against the skin near the cut and had to withhold another shiver. “It’s a bit deep but you were right about not needing any stitches. Though, if you’d’ve gone to A&E they’d’ve probably glued it shut.”

“So it'll scar?” I found myself asking and George’s hesitant pause gave me my answer. “It’s fine," I said, "not as though I’ve not got any others.”

The sound of the box drew my attention back over to him, though I was mindful to keep my eyes from looking at my finger again. He was fiddling with the box now, trying to release a plaster with his free hand instead of just making things easier for himself and simply letting go of my hand to grab at it. I didn’t comment on it though, letting him do as he pleased whilst I angled myself closer to reach for his smouldering joint.

His gaze found mine just as I brought it to my lips, inhaling slowly. I gave him an impish grin when I caught him, “Waste not want not, right? Besides it’ll help keep my mind off of the pain.”

George snorted, still watching me thought he’d gotten a plaster free. “What pain? You big baby.”

I narrowed my eyes and took another drag, holding it out towards him once he’d ripped the plaster from its seal by using his teeth. He appeared grateful for it.

“What’s sanitary about that?” I asked.

He merely chuckled in retort, eyes honed in on my cut now. His hold on my hand was firm but careful, and he was so very gentle with me, especially when he dragged his thumb across the back of the plaster to adhere it.

I put the joint back in the ashtray then, scared I’d do something stupid like drop it on George’s nice rug or choke on my next inhale. Even more so when my breathing stuttered the moment he brought his lips to my hand to kiss its palm.

“Alright, you're good to go.” George told me quietly, glancing up at me then through dark lashes. I struggled to regulate my heartbeat. Christ, the poor thing.

I swallowed instead, pulling my hand away when he dropped his stare and started to round up the plaster’s scraps. 

Coughing faintly into the back of my wrist, I went to move back to where I’d been sat previously, the sofa looking much larger now that I knew I’d be sitting on it alone again.

“Erm, forgot to ask if you wanted anything. A drink maybe?” George mentioned, breaking the silence.

I looked about the space, not sure why but perhaps simply for something to do. “Yeah, uh sure. What’ve you got?”

George’s mouth quirked to one side and I watched as he moved over towards the fridge to pull a can out of its bottom drawer. I shook my head at the familiar sight of a Diet Coke in his hand.

“Ta.” I chuckled, taking it from him when he extended an arm out towards me.

“Always have ‘em in there. Not sure why, no one really drinks them. Force of habit maybe.”

He shrugged it off like it was nothing but I couldn’t do the same, for some reason he still bought my favourite drink to fill his fridge with.

It made me wonder what else he might still pick up whilst shopping, if he ever thought of us arguing over the types of milk when he walked through the dairy aisle. Or if he stopped by the strawberries on the way in, debating over whether or not to pick them up seeing as I was the only one who ever seemed to eat them. Though, he claimed they were his favourite.

I realised that I’d been looking at the can for far too long, the chill from the fridge causing it to perspire and produce water droplets which clung to my hand.

“You still with me, Birdie?” George mocked, stubbing out whatever remained of his joint, though I did note the faint waft of smoke that now lingered around him.

“Yeah.” I answered, shaking away my thoughts and went to return to the sofa. Only, I couldn’t bring myself to.

George’s face changed when I dropped back to the floor, though it was only for a moment, and then he was padding over to join me, tossing another cushion my way. It was a silent gesture but one that had me smiling.

“So, why’re you here really?”

I hadn’t expected him to be so blunt about it, but he’d reclaimed his seat, arms wrapped around the knee he’d since pulled into his chest, and was surveying my reaction.

I shrugged. “Truth?”

The look on his face was well worth the sting of the icy knife that pierced its way through my chest from using that word.

Liar. My heart wanted to scream. My mouth struggling not to accuse him of all the things I’d learnt tonight.

“Truth.” George whispered back to me.

“I want to know what really happened.”

George’s brow pinched, he inclined his head. “What do you mean? When what happened?”

My eyes met his straight on. There was no worming our way out of this.

“The night you finished with me. I want to know what really happened.”

Part twelve>

[mirjam-writes]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @suavissimapenna <3 Sorry it took so long!

How many works do you have on ao3?

7 for Sherlock and 23 Good Omens that are completely mine. 6 collaborative fics I have either partly written, or just made art for. So, 36.

What's your total ao3 word count?

380,863

What fandoms do you write for?

Good Omens! I used to write for Sherlock too, but that's now in the past.

Top five fics by kudos:

Truth Or Dare (E, 6.5K words), my first proper smut ever! Post s1 gettig together story.

Angel Of Justice (T, 9.5K), my first ever Good Omens fanfic. Post S1 from Michael POV, A/C as a background couple.

!False (It's funny because it's true) (E, 5.4k), an office romance human AU set in software company.

A Stable Relationship (E, 9.9k), horse rider AU with trans Aziraphale. Friends with benefits becoming a romantic relationship.

Girls Just Wanna Have Sun (G, 1.7k), outsider pov scene about Robin's day at the beach, where she meets two weird gentlemen who have never been to a beach before.

Do you respond to comments?

YES I DO! Slowly, possibly, but yes I do, and I read and reread them!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Uhhh... angsty ending? What is that? Technically Be Still My Soul: The Rift, but does that count if it's a middle part of a trilogy? That's definitely my angstiest fic of all time BUT I tried to write the happiest ending possible to it. But also, yeah, people died in the war (just not A or C), so maybe I'll count that story.

Edit: WAIT NO! To Love Somebody, a story from Shadwell pov about how he fell in love both Aziraphale and Crowley, and how that changed him. That's sort of angsty and the ending is bittersweet!

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmmmmmm. I have so many. I can't compare. Maybe Watching You (Watching Me), it's the porniest porn i have ever written, and it has...uh... several happy endings :D

Do you get hate on fics?

Not so far!

Do you write smut?

Yessss. I'm in my porn writer era at the moment :D

Craziest crossover:

I did some super weird anime crossovers as a teen (I hope those are long lost) but haven't dabbled on that since apart from very vague blink-and-you-miss-it references.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

One of my Sherlock fics was translated into french in 2018!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Only for one round robin event, which produced four stories! Not sure if that really counts as collaborating since we weren't allowed to talk about it when we did it, we just got the fic, read it, and added 600 words and gave it to the next one! It was super fun though.

All time favorite ship?

Aziraphale and Crowley. No competition there.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I don't usually start posting unless I'm 100% confident I'll finish the story, so I don't have public wips.

I had one pretty cool Sherlock post-apocalypse story idea, which I'd love to talk about if someone is interested, but writing it? Hmm probably not. But it's not really a wip, if I have only like two bullets in a doc?

What are your writing strengths?

I think I write pretty good bickerflirting and humour even in dark situations. And, uh... historical research.

What are your writing weaknesses?

LONG ASS SENTENCES. I need to cut them down. Chop chop chop. Also, I over-use commas and em-dashes.

Also, not being a native english speaker, but I think I've got a lot more fluent during the past years, so maybe that's not my biggest weakness anymore.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I have done it myself, in a situation when my pov character wasn't supposed to understand what was being discussed, but I did only a couple of lines.

My languages (apart from english) are finnish, very rough swedish, and teeny tiny bit of german, but many fics I've read that have used another language in dialogue, use French or Spanish (which are popular languages for English speakers to learn in school!), and with those I'm woefully lost!

But honestly, i don't need to understand every fic under the sun! You do you, I bet there are people who can understand whichever languages you'd like to mix in your story, and that will be amazing for them!

First fandom you wrote in?

The Book Series That Must Not Be Named. I projected so much of my teenage angst into wizard school drama.

Favorite fic you've written?

You monster! Making me choose. Uh.

Okay, fair. It's easy. Be Still My Soul, hands down. @be-still-my-soul-fanfic

No pressure tagging: @hkblack, @ambrasue, @tawnyontumblr , @ack-emma and @zehwulf and anyone else who wants to answer!

[miabrown007]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I have been tagged for this by an astonishing amount of people, thank you for thinking of me @chocoluckchipz @ladyofthenoodle @kasienda @rosie-b and @burntwaffle12! 💜

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

58 (+ 1 in hiding because past me couldn't handle having unfinished fics fdgh)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

333,162 words (+ about 80k of heist AU will be joining this slowly)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Miraculous Ladybug (I have fics for Harry Potter and The Inheritance Games but I don't really consider myself someone who actively writes for those fandom)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Hiding in Plain Sight

don't ask questions you don't wanna know

seven is my lucky number

Save You a Seat

17 days, 2 hours and some odd minutes

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I wrote all that and someone decided to write back and discuss it with me? of course I will!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hmm, maybe hold your friends close (but your enemies closer)? but I do regularly get yelled at when someone at the Writers Guild remembers the flowers that we've grown together, so that's a win too

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

probably seven is my lucky number with the sappiest-happiest ending. though the ending that makes me the happiest must be that of Felonies and Other Love Languages

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not really *knocks on wood*

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

no because I'm a coward 😭 (also writing smut is so hard! though it is known that ace people write the best, so maybe I'm naturally talented and just don't know it)

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

not really. in Lost & Found the Teen Titans kind of adopt Adrien but they don't have dialogue because it's not a proper crossover. similarly, in Fighting Dragons with You Cedric Diggory is mentioned and Dramione is canon (to me), but all of that has zero impact on the plot

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that I know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes, a few to Russian

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yes, I tried it a couple times, but only one fic of those did we ever finish.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

love-square!

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

fdgfhj all of my WIPs at the moment? 😂 honestly it would be so nice to have (no one can) rewrite the stars finished (that's my hidden fic, ladrien dating/marichat soulmates), but I don't think I'll ever be excited about it enough again to go back and rewrite the 20k chilling in my docs that I planned to do after realizing the current setup wasn't the best it could be

16. What are your writing strengths?

planning, keeping details in check. I usually tinker enough with details that there's not many inconsistencies left. also, I think I'm good with dialogue and usually with the pacing of information

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

not stressing over how something is phrased and putting down actual words instead. it makes writing so excruciatingly slow and sometimes stressful that I want to get things perfect. also, descriptions are so hard, because I don't want to describe things plainly or in a dull way, but finding interesting ways takes a lot of effort.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I have done it, but honestly most of the time you're probably better off using italics.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Felonies and Other Love Languages <333

tagging @valiantlyjollynightmare @noirshitsuji @sunfoxfic @peachcitt @anna-scribbles if you feel like playing <3

[winterchimez]

hi......yes im alive 😃

i'll be honest i don't really know where to start...so i might as well try my best to give a proper update for everyone on the dash and explain everything as i possibly can

so it's been a month (a little more than that) since i left and to put it simply i was at the lowest point in life, physically and mentally. a lot of irl matters happened; losing close ones and going through a tremendous amount of stress and pain has not made anything better. with that, i was on meds a lot; mentally, i was very unwell, and neither was my physical health any better.

i had to take a step away from all social medias i had, and even shut myself out completely and not talk to anyone, all because i just didn't have the strength and energy to do it. i've lost count on the amount of times i've broke down over the past several months (but May was the worst), and i just couldn't keep going on like this.

so i finally made the huge decision to quit my current job by the end of the year (my job played huge part on my health) so that's finally a huge burden off my chest. though, all of that fatigue and stress are now slowly getting to me (since i've held them in / ignored them for so long) so by the time i'm home i'm beyond exhausted to do anything else.

which also comes to the main point of all of this: writing. it's still a hobby that i absolutely love since a young age till now, and i have so much in store that i can't wait to write them! though with my current condition it's hard to determine when i'll be able to get back into it. i am somewhat working on one or two wips but it's going REAL slow, and i don't even know if they'll eventually see the light of day.

what i can promise though is i'll definitely write when i'm capable & feeling much better. i may or may not drop some fics once in a while, or that might not happen until i quit my current job but we shall see. i'm definitely planning on finishing all of the ongoing series (both here & on my other blog), writing the requests that you guys have sent in, and more collabs to come in the future!

so i humbly ask that you guys be patient with me, and i will be back when i can. i might hop into tumblr to check notifs once in a while, but know that i'm slowly coming back out of my shell so bear with me.

till then, take care yall & see you guys real soon. 🫶🏻💗

~ ally ❄️

[ourdramaqueen]

Fic Tag Game

I was tagged by @suchaladyy 🌸

20 questions:

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

55, divided into fandoms as follows: Wednesday (TV 2022) (24) The Boys (TV 2019) (21) The Lord of the Rings (8) Sin City - All Media Types (1) Almost Human (TV) (1)

2. What’s your AO3 word count?

368,862

3. What fandoms do you write for?

See #1. Currently only Wednesday, though I do hope to get back into The Boys soon, and I still have some unpublished LotR WIPs that I'd like to actually finish sometime...

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Private Tutor

Kinktober Day 8: Shaving (The Boys, Butcher/Hughie)

Kinktober Day 2: See-through (The Boys, Butcher/Hughie)

Kinktober Day 18: Rough Sex (The Boys, Butcher/Hughie)

How do I passive-agressively say ‘fuck you’ in flower?

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! I really appreciate when readers take the time to post a comment, so I always answer at least with a brief "thank you".

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Defintiely the whole Closer series (LotR, Frodo/Éomer) because it is mostly canon compliant, so it ends with Frodo going into the West. 😭My Rough Sex series (The Boys, Butcher/Hughie) is also fairly angsty by its nature as a series of mildly canon divergent gap filler fics following through the episodes of S1 and S2 (so far).

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think pretty much anything apart from the above two series? Well, apart from the Struck by a Bolt series (The Boys, Butcher/Hughie), which has the potential to go either way.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't gotten outright hate, but certainly a few rude/entitled/"clearly hasn't read the tags or the end note despite me recommending to in the a/n at the beginning" comments.

9. Do you write smut? What kind?

LOL! All kinds. Soft, kinky (probably more kinky), some a bit dark. I seem to enjoy my ships a little fucked up.

10. Do you write cross-overs?

I don't have a proper crossover on my AO3 (see #12 for the reason why I specify it like this), though I'd love to write one sometime since I love reading them. The closest I've come is Kinktober Day 15: Monster Fucking (The Boys, Butcher/Hughie), which is heavily Beauty and the Beast inspired.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Little Brother was translating Private Tutor into Russian, though they haven't updated it in a while.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Oh yes! In fact, the first fics I posted online were cowritten with two (originally three, but one of then dropped out shortly after we'd started) friends, though under a different pen name and in a crossover of two small fandoms (with additional ones sneaking in here and there). I haven't written for that series in at least 15 years, though I still have fairly extensive notes for a trilogy of stories centered around my OC and I'd love to get back to that eventually.

But more recently, I've cowritten Line Without a Hook with erraticallyinspired (holyfudgemonkeys), who afaik isn't on Tumblr, and An Addams Family Guide to Kidnapping with @nonamemanga. I'm currently working on something with @suchaladyy, and who knows what and who will be next? It's a lot of fun!

13. What WIP would you like to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oof! I only have unpublished WIPs which I'm not sure if I'll ever get to finish them. Mostly for LotR.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I really can't choose. Go look at my bookmarks on AO3, LOL!

15. What are your writing strengths?

Oh boy. Um. I think I've figured out quite well how to show character through smut, as well as to distinguish characters from one another by how they behave and talk.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Hmm... Sometimes I get bogged down in details, though I've gotten much better at catching myself now. Oh, paragraphs of really long sentences, but again, I've improved a lot there. 😆

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Absolutely, as long as I'm confident in the language or have someone who's a native/fluent speaker to help me with it.

18. First fandom you wrote for?

Are we talking wrote for myself, or published? Because I started as a teenager in the 80s, writing your typical Mary Sue self-inserts starring my favorite celebs, like Nick Rhodes from Duran Duran, by hand on notepads...

19. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Nope, still can't choose, sorry!

20. What fic would you want to rewrite one day?

There's one story from my first cowriting experience I mentioned in #12 that I would dearly love to rewrite because the constant POV changes are driving me nuts when I read it now! I don't think there's anything that's currently on my AO3 that I feel the need to rewrite.

I don't know who's been tagged or not, so if you haven't been but want to participate, consider yourself tagged!

[themeraldee]

I've been writing some fics but been too scared to post. Are you ever nervous to post and how do you get over that? My main thing is if irl ppl ever find my blog I'd cry ngl

I absolutely am!! I usually post close to bedtime so I can post and disappear. Otherwise I'd be obsessively checking my phone to see if people like what I've written. This way the world could implode and I would only find out in the morning (or well...not).

Albeit it's gotten easier these days because people have told me they enjoy what I post so it becomes less about performing and beating myself up over making the best thing I can and more about just sharing my silly little thoughts with my silly little friends.

I totally feel you about the irl stuff though. It's one of the reasons it took me SO long to gain the courage to actually make a proper blog and engage. I have this irrational fear of irl people finding my stuff and associating me with it. First of all I'll say the benefits so outweigh the worry of that and you'll very soon forget about it. Engaging with the people here is so fun that you won't even think about being 'found out'. At least from my POV!

If you think about it, you know very little about the people you follow/like the works of. It would be the same way for you. If you don't shout to everyone you know irl about your blog, they wouldn't ever think to look for it 🤷‍♀️ This is not the go-to social media for people stalking anyway.

[secretlywritingstories]

I just remembered the personal blog I used to have. I started writing on it the summer at the end of my first year at university and I stopped posting the autumn I'd handed in my master thesis. It followed me through ups and downs for over five years and looking back at it now feels strange.

It's coming up on the 10 years since I started that blog. I just opened my first post to check it out and immediately noticed a dumb spelling error. And oh, how naive and unsure I was back then. Just 19 years old thinking that I was becoming an adult.

To be fair, I was but I've spent most of the last decade becoming more and more adult and I'm not sure I've reached "proper" adulthood yet. If such a thing ever exist.

But it was a curious thing to see what took up my heart and mind. Lots of university struggles, spending time with my horse, writing and setting myself writing challenges, dealing with anxiousness and stress. Perhaps not all that different from my life now (if you swap job with uni) but somehow, contradictory, also vastly different.

In the five years that the blog has sat abandoned (my old age of 24 sitting in the banner as a marker), I've gone through a lot. As a human I've grown immensely, even if many of my interests and the way I engage with the world is still similar.

My very last blog post was about handing in my thesis and then having to do an oral defence a couple of weeks later. I finished on this: I don't know if I have ever been more scared. It was that anticipation of what my life would look like when I was no longer a student.

I had been a student my whole life, jumping from one form of education to another. Ten years of school. Three years of gymnasium. Six years of university. Almost two decades of being in school in some shape or form and the anticipation of what came after was so scary. I would lose all of my structure and crumble, I could feel it in my bones.

In some ways, I did. But in other ways, I also have been very fortunate. It took me over a year to find a job. I had to go through a pandemic that only made it harder. The isolation was gutting but it also made me find an online community that are now some of my closest friends. I started working a reception job only to be able to move into a department related to my field after ten months.

I've kept past friendships from schools, I still have my horse, I'm close with my family, I daily chat with my online friends and we've been (and will go) on trips to meet up. I've got a good salary, I like my colleagues and boss, and I get to try new exciting things, even if that sometimes scares me. I have written and published almost 100 fics since that last blog post and my writing has only gotten better and better.

My brain still trips me up. I didn't dare dive into some of the more mental health related posts I made at this moment but I think I'll see present me echoed in those too. Even if I've gotten better at dealing with stuff in some ways. I'm going to try to continue to improve on that front.

Five years is a long time but somehow, in the span of a full life, also a short time. For five years, I wrote on that personal blog. It's been five years since I've touched it. One version of me started it and another version finished it, and me looking back on it now is yet another different version.

I don't share like that anymore on the internet, but I do still keep a journal I write in every single day. And well, then there's these "my tumblr dabbles" a way to give myself permission to post tiny parts of me and my thoughts online still. Crack myself open and see what flows out onto the page that I want to share. Thank you for everyone who indulges them.

[unma]

@notwowee requested: Mettaton

There is so much to say about this robot but let me start off with my initial thoughts on him.

For like, a good good while I wasn't sure what Mettaton's gender was? In all fairness I was raised in a hella conservative country and Undertale was the first piece of media I'd ever interacted with that even depicted queer people, so for a bit I assumed the pink meant he was probably female. That wasn't helped when I discovered that Mettaton was Blooky's cousin with the locked pink house.

Luckily for me he was discussed enough that I eventually realized my mistake before I ever had to admit it. That would have been emabrassing.

Anyway I absolutely adored this robot and his style, his quizzes were cool and he had the most charming attitude that made me smile whenever he was there (not to mention the quizzes were funny, too). Don't get me started on the musical. Or when he hits you with the puzzle you've almost certainly forgotten the rules for. Hotland is very well done, even if some people dislike having to deal with Alphys's messages there (personally I thought those were neat).

Despite all this I have to admit that I initially thought he was a lot more shallow than expected. I didn't realize he was the type of person to actually care about his love ones, and I probably would've believed anyone who told me he treated Alphys like shit (okay maybe I'd have been a little skeptical, but you get the point).

Nowadays, I'm honestly pretty fond of his relationship with Alphys, as he's probably the one person she relied on the most during her various fuck ups. Also, his... his worries about Alphys in the ending where he becomes king... ah, that still makes me tear up a little. You can tell he cares and regrets not being a better friend to her.

This is only partly related but I dislike Papyton. For no reason, really, I just don't like it, and I disliked having to see it so often (until I learnt filters existed, anyway). I couldn't tell you why; the ship's perfectly fine. Yet if I see a fic with it I click out. Oh well, maybe I'll get over it one day.

I could totally see a world in which I become as attached to Mettaton as I am to Cagliostro from GBF. I'm not trans by any stretch (perhaps I'm non-binary, given I don't actually care much about my own gender in the slightest, but for now I'll stick with cis+ until I actually feel like I should consider it more) but I do have admiration for characters like them who strive to be their best selves in terms of appearance and are absolutely confident in it. I suppose if I was born a girl, I'd be more attached to Mettaton than Cagliostro, but eh. Who knows.

Mettaton's importance (or rather, lack of) in the genocide run is saddening, though I have come to terms with it because in terms of the game's writing it's a pretty damn good decision. I do love that he got fangames giving him an actual battle though, it's lovely to see him actually get that chance to fight back.

I feel the need to restate once more that I adore his relationship with Alphys, and seeing works explore that relationship is always great. I think Mettaton is one of the least fan-explored of the game's main cast, so it'd be wonderful to see more works. It's a shame I'm too busy thinking about Sans, Frisk and Chara to do that myself, though.

One more thing: Until I wrote this post, I always wondered why Mettaton didn't just fight the human in his indestructible body instead, especially in the genocide route. I mean, it's obviously because his other forms are the ones actually designed for human eradication, of course, but I also like to think it's because he likes those forms a lot more than his box form, as he sees them as a proper expression of who he truly is. I just think that's neat. Sure, he's indestructible when stuck in the closet, hiding who he truly is, but it's restricting, and wouldn't you prefer to simply be you? Even if it could mean you could get hurt? I think that question is somewhat inseparable from Mettaton's character as a whole, as his overly confident and theatrical personality could perhaps be one answer to that. It's fine if you get hurt a little, because in the end you'll be much happier for it.

[gallifreyshawkeye]

Intro for anyone new, Hiya/Update for anyone from "yon olden days"

The tldr: my kids have brought new joy into old fandom and old hobbies and my older kiddo has asked me to finish the series PROPERLY and make Alec Hardy not sad anymore (😆) and to write Tentoo whump (child, you have NO idea what beast you have unleashed!).

So I have found myself coming back to this blog thanks to my kids after a hiatus of several years due to (partly) said kids taking up an increasing part of life, as they should, on top of everything else. BUT, they are now late elementary and early middle school age and I decided a few months ago it was time to properly introduce Doctor Who to them as a show to watch. So we started properly with Rose and Nine and they were hooked harder than I could have ever hoped. They chose to watch nothing else until they had binged ALL thirteen seasons in about only four months! It was amazing!

It was also really cool to watch it again from as fresh and unbiased a perspective as I think I'm ever going to get. 11 and 9y/o's aren't influenced by other fandom perspectives, I refused to give them any spoilers along the way, and the whole experience was overall just such an unexpectedly refreshing and renewing one I can't put it into words. It's also been fascinating to get their takes. Here are a few:

- Ten is both their favorite Doctor, but Twelve isn't far behind at all, and my 9y/o son has them at almost a tie. In fact, when I asked each of them which Doctor they would want me to write a fanfic about, my son picked Twelve.

- They both haaaaaaaated the hand waving-ness of Moffatt's grand story arc conclusions: the Doctor being brought back by Amy simply remembering him, the soppy/cheesy way Clara got the Time Lords to give Eleven more regenerations, the entirety of Amy's pregnancy, and for that matter River having regenerations simply by being conceived in the TARDIS they never bought into. You should have seen the skeptical looks on their faces when they heard that line given as an explanation! It was quite priceless! And like I said, I gave no spoilers, no personal opinion ahead of time, nothing. I deliberately let them simply watch the show for what it is.

- They both liked Bill and Nardol way more than Clara

- Both were super confused by the the absolute mess of character arc in Chibnall's era. Not so much for the Doctor, they thought she was ok, just kinda bland, but the Master. They were in complete agreement that nothing he did made any sense whatsoever.

- They were in disbelieving shock and over the moon when David Tennant showed back up as Fourteen when Thirteen regenerated, and they were FURIOUS that they were going to have to wait six whole months before the specials came out 😆

As an added bonus, my 11y/o also has become quite the David Tennant fan. They were so devastated when Ten regenerated, they immediately wanted to watch something else DT was in, so in the process of listing things off, I mentioned MAAN as something him and Catherine Tate did together that was non-angsty and even after emphasizing that it was Shakespeare, they still chose to watch it (not that I was complaining! ;) ). They were literally sliding off the couch with laughter at the absolute comedic perfection that is DT and Catherine Tate in MAAN, and it's been all things David Tennant ever since! I got lots of things thrown at me during the course of Broadchurch because of, and I quote, "His stupid sad eyes and his stupid face!" and I have been ordered to write a proper ending that makes him properly happy. So maybe I'll have to dust off the epilogue fic I'd been writing all that time ago and finish it off for good.

Meanwhile, Doctor Who has been rewatched from the beginning nearly all the way through again and is pretty much the only show my son currently chooses to watch besides his favorite Minecraft YouTuber (Grian, for anyone interested and who knows that realm of things).

So it's been in the process of both my children falling into these fandoms as much on their own as it is possible for children their age to do so, that I have found myself back here. It started because I was looking up some of the whump gifsets I made of Ten in the episode 42 to show my 11y/o, and partly as a confession of sorts to them of how deep into the fandom I used to be.

And then the specials came out and there was Fourteen's beautiful face and big sad eyes (yes my 11y/o has a phenomenal point!), and now I've also found myself relistening to all the Eighth Doctor audios, and idk, whatever the combination of reasons I've found a new joy in it all.

And it's all combined to make me feel like I can write again, like something's been freed or been unlocked. I can imagine scenes and character arcs and come up with new characters and revel in meta minutia that will never explicitly make it onto the page but is vital for plot consistency.

I feel like I found part of myself again.