#they're proud of it. that it's going all the way down

[julieverne]

Maura doesn't like sleeping next to anybody.

She was raised alone. The nurses never held her when she woke at night, and Constance was rarely home. Even if she had been, she was hardly the comforting sort. Stiff upper lip and all that. Maura learned to soothe herself, to read until the nightmares faded. Always scared and not sure why until she got older and realised her parents hadn't really wanted her; her in particular. Any child would have done. They'd just needed an heir to inherit.

It doesn't hurt the way it should; Maura has insulated herself against social harm. She slides inside her own mind and ignores outer stimuli. She doesn't make friends, because she never feels like she has anything to offer them.

She does sleep with men; it's quick and easy. Sometimes it's almost affectionate. But she doesn't stay. She slips out in the night to return to her own bed, disturbed by the heavy breathing and restless body next to hers. She doesn't get attached. She rarely goes back for seconds, unless they're exceptionally good at what they do to her. She's a poor little orphan with nothing to offer except her vast fortune, intelligence and smoking hot body.

Oh, she knows she's hot. It's part of why she's so reticient. People used to try to befriend her for her money or to use her in other ways.

Maura has enough self-respect not to let herself be used.

When Jane asks to stay, Maura doesn't hesitate.

They're tentative friends by now; Jane will bring a hot coffee down to the morgue with her if they've swung by a coffee shop on their way back to the precinct. She offers what meagre foodstocks she keeps in her desk; tuna and ramen, for the shelf-life. She's held an umbrella over Maura's head while she crouched over a victim. She's gruff and grumpy, but she's never disingenuous. Not with Maura. Maura knows Jane has other places to go; she has people in her life. She has strong family bonds, at least. She doesn't think Jane has friends either; not since Hoyt. No one ever really knows what to say after something like that happens to you. But Jane has a mother and father. Maura has met them both; they come in to scold her and bring her food when she works overnight. She has two brothers. Maura's met one and he's lovely but Jane is a finished product and he's awkward. Maura used to like awkward because she was awkward too. Jane is awkward in her own way.

She turns to Maura, probably because she doesn't think anyone will think to look for her there. Maura agrees readily. She bought this house and it echoes with loneliness. Jane's casual cheer could lighten it up.

And it does. Even though Jane is being taunted by a serial killer, she jokes and looks relaxed. It isn't until Bass knocks something that she springs upright, pulled taut by fear.

Maura reaches for her and Jane accepts Maura's fingers on her bare skin, lets Maura lower her back to the bed. Jane had joked about sleepovers and tits and best friends and Maura's never had any of those - well, she has tits. They're spectacular, so she's told. But now she's curious about Jane's, wondering why she suggested they get topless together.

Jane doesn't settle easily. She fidgets and talks late into the night. She falls asleep mid-sentence, still fighting it.

Maura watches her. She looks suprisingly sweet and vulnerable as she sleeps, and Maura is proud that Jane wanted Maura to protect and guard her. Her hand is still on Jane's arm, and when she tries to remove it so she can sleep in her own bed, Jane rolls over and traps Maura's arm beneath her, settling with her breath brushing Maura's hair and ear. She moves again, sliding herself onto Maura, so their bodies are aligned.

Maura moves her arm so it rests on Jane's back and she feels Jane relax and nuzzle closer into her. She hears Jane's contended sigh.

Maura doesn't like sleeping next to anyone. But with Jane nestled against her, she can't quite remember why.

[therealsaintscully]

Thank you for the tag, lovely @crepesuzette2023! It's been nice to take some time to think about my fics!

How many works do you have on ao3?

20; 18 are Johnlock (BBC) and two, the most recent ones, are mclennon.

What’s your total word count?

306,378 (I was stunned to see this, I had no idea).

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

All are Johnlock: Mark Your Calendars, my beloved Erosion, Detours, Plus One and Turned - Part I : Queen and Country.

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I try to be very good about it and respond as often as I can, but the truth is I'm a bit of an emotional wreck so when there's a rush of comments I get overwhelmed and over emotional about them, and tend to put it off for a while. I read them ALL, and I often go back and re-read them.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I had to refresh my memory but it's def Every Other Universe ("What if in every other universe John Watson leaves?"). It's one of my very earliest ones and I cringe a little reading it, but it's a very neat idea. Gretna Green Waltz, a mclennon fic, is very devastating if I may say so myself, and was written as such knowingly. It only reflects reality, though, and that's just as devastating.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

I think Mark Your Calendars has the happiest ending, judging by the numbers of kudos, but for me as the writer, the cosiest, most joy-bringing ending was that of Simon (or: Love Calls You by Your Name).

Do you write crossovers?

The sadly abandoned Turned series is a crossover with Homeland.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not hate, but some less-than-considerate "when's the next chapter???" comments. I don't bother with them.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes I do :)

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Don't think so!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I remember being asked, but I'm not sure what happened with it! Some of my fics got podficced, though: Mark Your Calendars is available as podfic, and so is I Have not Lingered (thanks to the lovely @helloliriels)

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I'm so neurotic and particular I don't think I'm cut out for that.

What's your all-time favourite ship?

Mulder and Scully are DEFINITELY the mothership and always will be. I still sigh about them in a special, exasperated way about three times a week. I'm still here with Johnlock of course, but I'm pretty sure mclennon has been in the back of my mind for decades, but I was too haunted by other ships to fall down that rabbit hole. Look at me, though, here I am.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Turned, very sadly. So much so that I've considered taking it off AO3 but I'm so proud of what I did achieve with it.

What are your writing strengths?

I think my best writing moments are the ones that hook unto my real, personal experiences, not just a general idea of life situations. Erosion is based on my own personal grief and family losses, and Gretna Green Waltz is a retelling of my biggest heartache. I have noticed readers can tell when you're really putting your heart into a story.

What are your writing weaknesses?

English isn't my first language, which means I have to rely on betas which for me sadly slows me down - I want to be able to just write them and post them otherwise I overthink. I'm also a screenwriter irl, and I noticed a pattern that is another weakness - I always have banger openings, or first acts to my stories/screenplays, but sometimes I don't know the ending and I get lost and hesitant. That's why Gretna Green Waltz was SUCH a surprise - much like Junk, the song that haunts Paul throughout the fic, came to him in one piece, GGW landed in my head as a full story. I wrote it in TWO WEEKS! That NEVER happened before!

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

It really depends on how it's done. If it's 2-3 sentences and they're simple I assume the readers will Google Translate it. Jinglebell stands out as someone who did it really well in multi-chapter fic that's all about Sherlock discovering that John is a polyglot, so it can be done well.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Johnlock (for which I started writing during covid in 2020), although as a reader it was TXF, back in in 90s and early 2000s.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

The X-Files. I've had a Scully character study in my head for years that I just can't get right.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

With Johnlock it would have to be the now-abandoned Turned, and mclennon it would be Gretna Green Waltz. I am very proud of both.

Tagging @menlove, @discordantwords, @saint-mona, @totallysilvergirl @m1ssunderstanding @slippinmickeys @kettykika78 @agrlsname @arwamachine @calaisreno @aggressivewhenstartled and anyone who sees this who wants to participate :)

[f4rgd]

He's ready with a list of reasons to argue the second he reacts badly which he expects and fully understands, because he'd be the same way probably - it's just as Paerin had said, if it were him he'd want him to meet someone else, to live out his days and be happy but Aksel knows that's not him. It can't be, not when it's been ten years, ten years where they've spent every day of their lives together and there's no finding somebody else after that, there is nothing that compares to that. It's been the two of them from the start and it'll end the way it started.

When their eyes meet a small smile pulls at his lips and any reasoning he has is shoved back down because it's not necessary. He doesn't need to explain and if their positions were reversed Paerin wouldn't need to explain it either - even if every instinct went against that choice.

" I will let you have mine afterwards. " He waits for him to turn and he reaches for the soap so he can go to work on spreading the soap studs first. " How does it feel to have met your match? " and he smirks as he sets the soap down and uses his hands instead, fingers pressing into his shoulders, thumbs pressing firm in small circles to work the muscles there. " I guess you rubbed off on me. " He's pretty proud of that fact. They're both stubborn, maybe Paerin more so but not on this occasion.

" There is nothing to convince, Paer. " His voice becomes more serious just for a moment. " I have spent the last ten years of my life with you. It has been just you and I all this time. If we make it two more days, six more months, five years, hells if we make it to eighty years and I cannot understand a single word you are saying because you have lost all your teeth and your accent is too thick then so be it. I am good with that. " Aksel drops his hands so he can wrap his arms around Paerin as he presses a kiss to his shoulder and then another to his cheek. " I am happy with that. This is more than enough. "

He lowers himself back down so his hands can go back to massaging the muscles of his back now that they're both clear of any dirt and grime. " - and we do not have to find a cabin. We will just keep going until one of our hips give out if we make it that long. " The smile on his lips shines through his words as his fingers travel down each side of Paerin's spine to his lower back. " Plus cabin's have thin walls. "

There's a moment there where he mentally wants to recoil, wants to protest and fight it and tell him no, you won't, absolutely not. That would be the normal thing to do — the logical thing, the expected thing. The thing he should do, because who would want the one they loved to face such a thing? Even by their own choice, it's a curse he wouldn't wish on anyone.

But — when you're with someone for ten years, you come to know who they are. And he knows in his heart of hearts that there is no other ending and perhaps there never was. And so, when fingers brush against his beard and lure his look up, up, there's no surprise in those bright blue eyes.

The silence lasts for a long moment, and the smile he offers up is slight and crooked and tired. " I know, " is all he says, voice rough and quiet, soft and weighted with all the knowledge that comes from ten years of fighting and loving. And — if he were honest with himself, he'd do the same if the situations were reversed. " I think I've always known it. "

And there's a complication in and of itself — because who is he that he won't argue it? In death, sacrifice. It's something he's held close to his chest for so many years, and if he can believe it — who is he to hold the one he respects and cares for beyond all others to a different standard?

If that makes him a bad person, so be it.

But that time is not now, and he sighs, shifting and turning so his back faces him in answer. " Only if I can get yers, " he sighs, and he's quiet for a moment before he skims a look backwards through dark wet strands of hair. " T'be honest, I don't expect I'd be able to convince you otherwise. " And gods, but it's fond: " Stubborn bastard. "

[cherubchoirs]

v1's old mechanics giving it a last little tune-up (and maybe refreshing its paint job)

[vaguely-concerned]

playing through where the dead must go with an ingellvar rook and......... oh. rook LOVES loves the grand necropolis actually huh. you can hear it in every line they say. I'm. so full of feelings I didn't expect this to hit so hard but between the voice lines, banger music and astounding visuals (TELL ME this game is ugly and that the visual style sucks while you meet me in these halls of grieving I fucking dare you) I feel second hand drenched with grief and melancholy on the inside what the fuck

(feat. lucanis coming along unwittingly meeting future in-laws and realizing that rook has been clenching their teeth with the effort of only seeming about 5% of the freak they actually are the entire time he's known them fhsadkjfsa. local man learns that the one thing future spouse is deadly fucking serious about is their role as a watcher. it's a little hot)

[souenkun]

My tiny little kantrio besties to keep me company in my journey! Made by the amazing @okiroash 🥹🫶

[namazunomegami]

"But I can't know God's intentions... How could it depend on my decision... Who made me a judge of who shall live and who shall not?" - Crime and Punishment

[fictionadventurer]

I've got a couple of days left in September when I want to squeeze in some time to finish a couple of books I was reading this month, and Inklings Challenge starts in a couple of days, so of course this was the perfect time to get obsessed with Victober and download a bunch of obscure Victorian books.

[highwaydiamonds]

starting a new job tomorrow (monday) morning and am feeling about 72 (million) different things all at once because of it

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Over here fighting for my life in the Google Doc. The table of contents is escaping me. I can't do this.

[marinehero-a]

     Also reminder that I generally tend to follow the rule of the bit !  As in, if it’s for the bit my characterization’s will vary wildly because we have fun here

[inbabylontheywept]

i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.

adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.

right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.

it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.

still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.

i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.

i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.

so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.

coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."

and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.

still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.

i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.

so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went

...oh.

and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.

so i did.

i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.

i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.

it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:

*ptooie.* "that all you got?"

i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!

but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.

my coach did not.

i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.

"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"

and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said

"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."

which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.

and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.

fine.

but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.

and then he left.

and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."

but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.

and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.

he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.

and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.

[lenteur]

i'm sorry but any time i go on krystal's ig page, i get instant regret. the number of people i've seen pressure her into releasing music is unbelievable.

[aquaticfreakshow-sys]

Call me petty or whatever but, making fun of and shit talking my toxic ex with my current partners is literally so fun....

My current boyfriend of ten years was ALSO with them so it's really fun to completely trash talk our failed poly relationship lmao

Healing is being able to laugh at how ridiculous it all was instead of being afraid of them.

[attractthecrows]

making myself moody by contemplating the clan Revallen left behind

[vaguely-human-man]

Idk who needs to hear this but take that early transition girl out. Dress her up all pretty and assure her that anyone who dares to say a negative word will have to contend with you. Do her makeup and gently talk her through the steps, do one eye for her and let her try the other one on her own. Kiss her lips and watch the way she grins like a maniac at the imprint that her black lipstick leaves behind. Take her out to the movies or to the mall, walk around and buy her a pair of good boots without letting her look at the price tag, watch the way she smiles shyly and swoons even while insisting she doesn't need them. Tell her 'My love. You loved them instantly and they had your size- it's fate, they're meant to be yours,' and then help her sit down in one of the mall chairs to put them on, watch the way she prances around in them like an excited little girl.

Hold her hand and talk to the lady at Rue 21 for her because you know she's insecure about her voice. Go in the dressing room with her and gently help her into the skirt she was eyeing- one foot, a second, shimmy, shimmy, up- followed by a wonderfully soft sweater that falls just right over her frame. Hug her from behind while she looks in the mirror and feels beautiful, basking in her euphoria. Whisper into her ear how proud you are of her- how brave she is, how beautiful, how honored you are to be able to share this journey with her.

Take her to dinner and kiss her while you wait for your food, run your hands down her freshly shaven arms and gently caress over the back of her neck. Offer her some of your ramen while you take a bite of her fried rice, and clumsily attempt to feed her a bite of sushi with some chopsticks.

And then. Take her home, with all the bags that now hold the beginnings of her new wardrobe, and help her hang them up, try them on. Let her have a fashion show and gently wipe her makeup off before sleep. Kiss her and caress her and shower her with affection, with praise and love and adoration. Let her melt into your arms and if she cries let the tears soak into your shirt. Gently caress her hair and say 'its okay, baby girl. I love making you feel beautiful,'

Or something, idk.