omg are you back?! are you well?! it's so good to see you!!!!!!!!!!!! i will read literally whatever you write for this darcyland thing. (i just re-read "3 weeks, 10 states, 1 million reasons" because i was having a hard day and that's a fic that never fails to make me smile.) - signed, a follower/reader who is happy to see your icon
awww, i love you, dude. yes i’m back! YAY! :D i’m not exactly well, but i’m hanging in there. i have another hospitalization and surgery to get through this month, so that should be fun. but I’m much better than i was when this all started, which is awesome. and i totally just wrote a WS fic that will be posting today. can i just say it’s been so long since i posted a fic that i feel super nervous? it’s like i never posted a fic before. i’ve got butterflies like mad. wish me luck, lol! <3 <3 <3
I'm more of a Sara-Leonard shipper myself, but if you wanted to write fic for Sara-Rip i would absolutely read it/be on board. Because your fic is always pretty amazing. Ya know. Just saying. *nudge nudge from a reader*
Lmao I feel like I will probably not get invested enough to actually write for this (it takes a LOT to get me that invested, especially right now when I’m finishing my last quarter and studying for the bar), but I am definitely…intrigued. And I ship all of it. @gelbmantrees and @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels can vouch that I’ve been shouting about both Sara/Rip and Sara/Leonard since I started watching earlier (I’m only on 1x10) and I’m sure I will fall ass-over-teakettle for Sara/Ava when I get there. This show is just…a whole Aesthetic and so many ships tick so many of my boxes it’s almost offensive. I feel extremely called out lol.
Kiss prompts: 68 (lucy's the one who's hoarse) and 1 (where it's a parallel of the deleted scene, but after they are together or just got together)
68. A Hoarse Whisper “Kiss Me”
(set during the 2x09 Empty Couchgate/Lucy was in Flynn’s room when Jessica stole the Lifeboat scene, for reasons)
There are, as seem to be their wont on these late nights, a few too many glasses sitting on the side table, the remnants of alcohol sticky in the bottom. Lucy isn’t drunk, though there’s a faint buzz in her head, a lightness to her step when she gets up from the bed, that makes her wonder if she really wants to venture all the way back out to the couch. “It’s,” she says, as if he doesn’t know. “It’s getting late.”
Flynn raises an eyebrow. He, of course, won’t venture an opinion on whether she should stay or go, but as he sees her fumbling to remember where she put her shoes, he finally says gently, “You can sleep here, you know.”
Lucy hesitates. He told her that she was welcome here -- I enjoyed the company, anytime -- and she doesn’t want to go back out to the couch, might have come here wagering that she didn’t have to. They spent a lot of time together on the ride to Port Royal anyway, they did most of their talking then, and it’s been different, tonight. Something stronger and stranger and a little less innocent than talking, and she doesn’t quite know if she shouldn’t be gone already. She looks back at him. He looks at her.
Lucy turns toward him, realizing she is a little more tipsy than she thought. She takes a sideways step and half-loses her balance, he moves out of the chair almost too fast to see in order to catch her by the waist, and his hands momentarily linger. Then he pulls them back and says, “Lucy?”
She looks up at him. Wonders what he will do this time if she does ask. I wasn’t that drunk, she said, and she isn’t now. It’s just --
(She doesn’t know what, but she wants.)
She lifts her face up. Hoarsely, she whispers, “Kiss me?”
It’s impossible to say what crosses Flynn’s face at that moment. She’s not entirely sure she didn’t say something like this to him at their first vodka late night, and she doesn’t want to tease him, and she doesn’t know if he will, but somehow she wants to know. His face remains frozen for a long moment. It’s clear he wants to, he wants. That he would be ready to do it, to do it over and over, but he knows this isn’t the time.
Still. She has asked him, and he does not look about to disappoint her. He lowers his head, with that self-conscious care of a large man trying to take up less space, and pecks her lightly and swiftly on the nose. “Come on,” he says, low and rumbling in his chest, impossibly tender. “Time to go to sleep.”
(It turns out that sleeping in Garcia Flynn’s bed may have saved her life, since Jessica might have killed her if she was on the couch, and Lucy is somehow not surprised that, word unspoken, both of them knew not to let her be alone.)
don't be self-conscious about your writing! everyone starts somewhere (and i'm sure everyone started out insecure) and i love your drabbles and thank you for posting them because my garcy shipper heart needs all the fic it can get
Thank youuu!
I’m happy to contribute to the amazing Garcy family and that’s why I continue!!
Also, to everyone that’s sent a prompt like….weeks ago…I am SO SO SO sorry. Wow. I am a terrible person. But I’m going through all the prompts and I’m going to start publishing/writing them this week!
Writing trademark thing: your sentences have almost a dickens-esque quality to them. like they go on and on, but unlike with dickens (who i have reviled since i was forced to dissect every page of 'great expectations' in 9th grade omg shoot me) i can always follow them and your command of the grammar to make them a run-on without losing the reader or the main point is astounding! your 'voice' is super unique as well, and no matter which fic of yours i'm reading, i know it's you.
Um, I’m going to print this out and staple it to my husband’s forehead, cause when he proofreads my academic work, he always throws down his pen, points to the page and yells about how my sentences are too long. Correct and sensical, but too long.
uuuhhh if you wanted to write more of that single parent/nanny AU thing for that show with the hunky blonde guy i don't have time to watch but apparently read fic for anyway (haha) i would be totally on board for that...ya know. in case.
i mean you should definitely make time is all i’m saying. you’ve got 5 seasons of hunky blonde guy to gaze upon. fic set in this universe.
Lucien entered the Beazley home, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. Already, his nerves felt calmer and he felt more at peace. He tried not to worry that he was becoming too dependent on the way he felt when he was in this house; tried not to think about the fact that this was the only place that felt safe and warm; that this was the only place that felt like home.
Before he could even hang up his hat and coat, he was tackled around the legs by two exuberant boys, “Lucien’s here!” They beamed up at him, small hands clutched at this pant leg. He returned their smile and ruffled their hair, “Evening, boys!”
“What are we doing tonight, Lucien?” Jack asked, holding onto his leg as Lucien stomped through the house, loving the sound of the boys giggles as he went for a ride on his leg. Christopher Jr. followed closely behind, eager to hear what tonight’s adventure would be.
“Well, I thought we could go hunting for some fee.” He dropped his voice into a low whisper, dragging out the vowels and inspiring a sense of spookiness.
Both boys looked at him in wonder, “What are fee?” They tripped over the odd-sounding pronunciation, eager to learn.
Lucien explained, “They’re little fairies that live amongst the plants and green things, brewing up all sorts of trouble.” He smiled softly to himself before adding, “My mother and I used to hunt for them in the garden in our home. I thought you boys might like to do the same?”
Both boys nodded vigorously, looking up at him in awe. “Excellent!” Lucien rubbed his hands together. “Right then, Christopher, go get a saucer and fill it with some milk so we can leave it out for them. Jack, you go get a torch. Then both of you put on your best clothes and meet me in the back garden.”
Christopher scrunched his nose up, confused. “Our best clothes? Why?”
Lucien ducked low, remembering the words his mother had once told him, “You always meet a fee when you’re at your best, Christopher. First impressions, eh?”
Both boys nodded at him solemnly before scampering off, leaving Lucien shaking his head fondly in the living room. He really should go check in with Jean.
It was unusual for her to ask him to watch the boys in the evening and he was desperate–and a little afraid–to know why she needed his services this evening. Winding through the house and headed for her bedroom, he realized with some dismay that it would be silly for him to expect Jean to remain single forever.
She was incredibly beautiful, yes, but she was just bright. She shone in every room she walked into, making everyone’s life better and brighter just by existing.
And he was hopelessly in love with her. And hopelessly beneath her.
For now, he was content with being her friend and confidante, the man she entrusted her boys to, the man on the fringe of her family.
Arriving at her bedroom door he hesitated only briefly before knocking and calling out softly, “Jean? It’s Lucien.”
He heard some mumbling and movement behind the door before it was opened and he felt his heart stop and restart in his chest. In the doorway, stood an angel.
Jean was dressed in an elegant, burgundy dress that wrapped around her figure most alluringly. Her makeup was applied heavier than normal and thick, dark lines outlined her eyes, making the steel blue pop. Her hair was curled perfectly, falling in soft waves around her face.
“Wow,” he said softly, eyes taking her in.
“Hello, Lucien.” Jean blushed at his soft exhalation and turned, sweeping the hair from her neck. “Do you mind just helping me with the zipper?”
Lucien licked his lips and lifted a trembling hand up to her back, tugging at the zip. His knuckles brushed against her skin as he pulled the zip up and wondered if he imagined her shiver at his touch or not.
He cleared his throat, buttoning the clasp at the top of her dress. “What’s the occasion?” His fingers lingered at the top of the clasp and he allowed himself to touch, just this once, and his fingertips ghosted over the soft skin of her neck.
“There, all done.”
Jean turned to face him, beaming and a slight flush to her cheeks. She smoothed her hands down over her dress and sighed. “Truthfully, I’d rather be here with you and the boys, but Patrick Tyneman invited me to this silly debutante function and well,” she shrugged, helplessly. “It’s quite difficult to say no to a Tyneman.”
Lucien scowled, hand coming to rest on her shoulder reassuringly. “Did he force you or threaten you, Jean? Because I can–”
She shook her head, softly, and covered his hand with hers. “No, no, nothing like that, Lucien. But thank you. Patrick is just,” she sighed. “Patrick is a client and maybe a friend and truth be told, I couldn’t bring myself to say no. Plus, when else would I have a chance to wear this?”
With a laugh she twirled on the spot, finishing in a self-deprecating ‘ta-da’ gesture. Lucien wasn’t laughing. His hand brushed down her arm, voice low and serious. “Anyone would be lucky to take you out and see you in this, Jean.”
Jean blushed and bit her lip, peering up at him from behind thick eyelashes. He held her gaze and everything in his heart was bubbling up on the tip of his tongue–how much he adored her, how much she meant to him, how much he loved those boys as much as if they were his own, how much he loved them all.
Her eyes were dark and her mouth parted and did she feel this, too? Were those same words bubbling upon her tongue? He opened his mouth, “Jean, I–”
And then two boys were throwing themselves around his waist, tugging on his suit jacket and the moment was over.
“Lucien! We’ve been in the back garden for ages! C’mon!”
He cleared his throat, shaking his head a little. “Too right, boys.” He turned to them and bowed low, “My sincerest apologies.” They dissolved into giggles, Jack piping up, “Lucien, you’re so weird.”
“Alright boys, let’s go find some fee!” Two pairs of little hands tugged at his suit jacket and Lucien hurried to reassure Jean that everything would be fine and to enjoy herself.
“Oh, and Jean?” He called out over his shoulder, unable to resist. “You really do look beautiful.”
And with that, Jean watched as he and her boys disappeared down the stairs, chanting about mystical beings that live amongst the plants and take care of the families of the gardens they live in.
Jean sighed, picking up her handbag and walking towards the front door and an evening out with Patrick Tyneman. She couldn’t help but feel that she was walking away from an evening much better spent with the boys and Lucien, hunting for creatures in the back garden, their faces illuminated by the moonlight and the torchlight.
1. of the fic you’ve written, which are you most proud of?
I’m most proud of “Who’s Got Mail”, and the reason is rather simple: it was easy to write. It poured from my brain. I was in love with writing it from the first word through the last. (I am pretty proud of “Closed”, as well, but I’m just so fond of WGM.
5. is there a character you love writing for the most? the least? why?
I love writing Rose. She’s spunky, sensible, caring, jealous, imperfect, positive, and loving. I hope that I do her justice. I’ve written about 100 words of Eleven, and he was interacting with Ten, so they were playing off of each other, which helped. (I love writing Ten and TenToo, as well.) Unfortunately, I just have no voice for him.
8. what are your weaknesses wrt writing?
Poor editing skills. I think I read and re-read and reeeee-read my writing before I post. But still, there are always a few typos and grammar errors. This is supremely frustrating as I am relatively knowledgeable about grammar. I think I just get so used to seeing the words that the errors just slip by.I also edit to death. I have old fic that I still want to put up, and instead of thinking to myself, “It was good enough the first time,” I edit and edit and edit. Perhaps I should just let it go, put it up warts and all, and use it as a gauge against which I can compare my writing growth. (I hope I’ve grown!)Thanks @readtravelcoffee. I had every intention to answer this the night you submitted, but time slipped through my fingers...
Fic combo thing: roommate AU + marriage of convenience, Garcy (of course)
*cackles* Last time this post came around I got a request Roommates + Fake Dating which the lovely @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels went on to turn into an excellent fic, but Marriage of Convenience ohhhhh my god that’s just a whole new level. Okay, it would either be:
A) Modern. They’re already roommates because Lucy’s family cut her off and she couldn’t afford to live by herself while being a broke grad student without their help and oh hey, Flynn, did you know we could both get better financial aid if we were married? Wouldn’t that be nice…
It’s a great idea! They’re good friends, they live together, they’re not sleeping together but whatever that doesn’t matter, the point is getting a marriage certificate wouldn’t *change* anything about their relationship so why shouldn’t they? (It’s not a great idea. It’s a terrible idea. A supremely terrible idea because Flynn has been in love with her since approximately two days after they met and Lucy has a major crush that she’s been trying to ignore and yeah, there are about a thousand ways this could go horribly wrong). They end up sleeping together after her dissertation defense and she freaks out the next day because oh god wait I’m actually in love with him aren’t I and there aren’t really any guidebooks for “So You Want To Date Your Husband” but these two are these two so at the end of the day it all works out and everyone lives HEA.
B) Period. (I’m thinking Victorian, maybe with some steampunk thrown in?) In which Miss Lucy Preston really does not need or want a husband, she wants to be a historian and have adventures and learn things, dammit. And yet, her family and the rest of the world seem to think that she DOES need one, and she’s supposed to get a fair amount of money if/when she marries that she wouldn’t mind having access to so she can be more independent. So she has a bit of a conundrum because men are terrible and no one her family picks out really wants *her* (as opposed to a nice, polite, quiet trophy wife). Flynn is…you know that’s difficult, but I want to say a retired soldier of some sort who has just enough family money to classify him as a gentleman. However, he’s a bit of a recluse and there are a whole lot of rumors about what happened to his late wife so he’s not *really* “respectable” where most of society is concerned (which is just fine with him). Anyway, they meet on some sort of expedition or other and he’s definitely rough around the edges, but he seems to respect her and thinks she’s brilliant and Lucy thinks that’s great and then she gets an ultimatum from her mother that’s basically like “Okay, that’s it, you’re too old to be running off around the world, either you can pick a husband or we’re going to keep you home until you accept someone we’ve chosen” and she’s very upset and Flynn is very bad with upset women so he sort of stumbles into a proposal that she readily accepts because great, we have common interests, he won’t try to stifle me, he doesn’t have any expectations, perfect. (Bonus: it royally pisses off her mother).
And then there are Feelings and things get Messy because actually, maybe she wouldn’t mind and might prefer sharing a room with him and it could be nice to wake up with someone else and suddenly she’s wondering what it would be like to kiss him again because he hasn’t kissed her since their wedding and oh–oh no. And he struggles with similar things because he’s been married and he knows what it can be like and he wasn’t expecting to ever have any of those things again and wasn’t expecting to want them again and wasn’t even really expecting to want Lucy but whoops, that happened.
It’s very Dramatic and Austenian and there would inevitably be so much pining because this wasn’t ever supposed to mean anything and YET (with each of them assuming the other is still operating under the impression that there are no feelings here, it’s strictly a legal arrangement). Finally, something would happen (an “I almost lost you” moment of some kind because I LOVE those) and there would be Confessions and makeouts and yes, again, they live HEA.
