#~fic~

[degrassi-fanatic]

Asked You To Write It Down For Me

The anguished-kicked-puppy-dog-eyes Jamie was wearing were just becoming too much for Roy to handle. Every time Roy chanced a look at Jamie’s phone, he would see him staring longingly at a photograph of Georgie and Simon. Then, he would open his text threads to type, erase, and retype texts to Georgie only to shut off his screen at the last minute.

The cherry on top of this fuckin’ horrible sundae was when Roy found Jamie crying by himself in the living room the other day. Jamie never revealed the reason for the breakdown but, it doesn’t take a genius to see that he was feeling insanely guilty over missing Mother’s Day this year because of some brand deal shoot he couldn’t get out of. 

Roy had decided that enough was enough and rang up Georgie himself to tell her that he and Jamie were coming to Manchester for the weekend to have a belated Mother’s Day. 

The belated Mother’s Day, however, is still in the works as Jamie and Simon are currently running around shops to try and find the ingredients for some stellar meal they’re going to cook up for Georgie. 

With those two out, Roy is left in charge of entertaining her and he starts the evening off strong by pouring her a hefty glass of the fancy wine Roy helped Jamie pick out for her. 

“It’s always nice to have you and Jamie around.” Georgie says as she leans against the arm of the couch, her feet on the cushions, “It’s especially nice when you two bring posh wine.”

Roy snorts as he hands her the wine before making his way to sit down on the other end of the couch, facing her, with his own glass filled to the brim. 

“Well, Jamie has been missing you a lot, recently,” he says, leaving out the details to keep her from worrying, “He doesn’t like that he couldn’t make it for Mother’s Day.”

“I told that lad already that he shouldn’t worry.” she says exasperated, “It don’t matter to me when he comes down as long as he knows he’s always welcome.”

“Yeah, well, you know, Jamie.”

Georgie hums thoughtfully before taking a swig of the wine.

“This is good shit, my God,” she mumbles to herself before addressing Roy, “What about you? What did you get up to on Mother’s Day?”

Roy freezes. 

Usually, when people ask about his parents, he gives them the bare details or tells them to piss off, and seeing as he’s speaking to Jamie’s mother, he can’t exactly do either of those options. He doesn’t want Georgie to think that Roy’s some arsehole that’s going to be a bad influence on Jamie. 

Instead, he bides his time by swishing the wine around in his glass, being careful not to spill it. 

“My mum and I— We aren’t like you and Jamie.” Roy explains after a moment, “She and my dad, uh, they’re not really big parts of mine or Ruth’s life. I mean, they did fuck all when Ruth’s piece of shit husband left her and they didn’t even find the time to visit when Phoebe was born, and— I don’t know, they’re not bad people but, they’re not emotionally available.”

“Only person in my life that was, was my Grandad.” he says, smiling into the rim of his glass as he takes a sip in between words, “Then, he died while I was in Sunderland.”

“Jamie told me you went to Sunderland when you were only nine years old, right?” she asks.

He wants to ask if Jamie mentioned this when he was still a fanboy and it was some fun fuckin’ fact about him in a magazine or if he mentioned it to her when they started seeing each other. 

He holds off on it though. He’s not sure why. 

“Yeah,” he answers, “Sometimes, I look at Phoebe and I think about sending her off to fuckin’ Manchester for just the day and I have a heart attack. I don’t know how my parents could do that.”

I don’t know how my parents could do that to me. 

Georgie must be a fuckin’ mind-reader or some shit or maybe she could understand what he was implying because she reaches over to his side of the couch and places a comforting hand on his knee.

Much too quickly for his liking, she pulls off and recedes back to her side. 

“I remember the day that I sent Jamie off for the U-18,” she says as she reaches behind her and grabs a photo of Jamie from that time, the one where he’s grinning so hard at his mum behind the camera, “It broke me heart to do that. The only thing that kept me from flagging that bus down was knowing that he was safer than he was ever going to be here.”

Georgie places the photo back in its place delicately. 

Roy doesn’t comment on how she’s wiping away tears from her eyes.

It might be that moment of vulnerability that Georgie’s letting him witness or it might just be the wine he’s been going to town on that’s got him pissed enough to say this but, the next thing he knows, his mouth is opening and—

“It’s, uh, it’s nice being able to talk about these things,” he stammers, looking away when Georgie sends him a warm smile, “I’ve never really had that with a parent before. Not that I think of you as my mum or something because—”

Wordlessly, she cuts him off by plucking his wine glass and setting aside, along with her own. Then, she tugs Roy in by the wrist until he’s close enough for her to haul him into her arms. 

For a minute, he stays absolutely fuckin’ still, like maybe this is an illusion he can shatter by moving too much. Then, he decides fuck it, and fully leans in, reminiscent of the way he first saw Jamie and Georgie interact. 

“It’s okay, Roy,” she whispers as she tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, “I can have two sexy little babies.”

[ladydorian]

[yeehawpim]

a comic about fix-it fanfics

[jackwolfes]

thinking about that post of people assuming ao3 has an algorithm and also about how bonkers persistent the view is that ao3 is social media lite. like with startling regularity I get comments saying something along the lines of "it's probably weird to comment on a fic this old--" no it isn't!!!! this is an archive I am literally just assuming you searched for a selection of specific tags or sorted by kudos or looked back on my pseud or any other number of completely normal ways to use an archive site ?? kill the tiktok ghost in your brain and comment on old stuff it's NOT weird

[noelledeltarune]

EVERY SINGLE DAY there are MILLIONS of characters in their late 20s who get falsely accused of being father figures to teenagers when in reality the description of "weird older cousin" or "step-sibling that moved out before you were born" is 1000000x more apt

[whatsnewalycat]

Made this for u 💝

[mycroftrh]

Far worse, in my opinion, than the famous “he wouldn’t fucking say that” is “he WOULD fucking say that, as part of his facade, but you seem to think he would mean it genuinely”

[innerenigma]

•Normalize Fanart for Fanfics Again You Fools•

It's not cringe anymore (it SHOULDN'T be cringe anymore), just do it. You're doing something you enjoy, who cares what anybody else says! So spread the words my fellow internet brethren.

Spread the Word :)

[chic-beyond-the-wall]

More medieval dyes for y'all!

[bamsara]

"youve already written that trope" yesss. i like it a lots. i will be writing it again. 1000 stories of the same trope over and over again for ten million years

[k9effect]

Reblog for a larger sample size!

No "show results", if you're not a fanfic writer just be patient.

I saw a post about an anon saying it was embarrasing to have an ao3 account in your 30s (it's absolutely not), so I want to do a poll and see what the age range actually is.

[degrassi-fanatic]

Time, Wondrous Time

The first time Ted Lasso and Rebecca Welton meet is not in her office at Nelson Road in 2020.

No, the first time Ted Lasso and Rebecca Welton meet is in the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam in 1991.

It had been his mother’s idea to go on the school trip. She had a love of travelling that Ted couldn’t wrap his head around and she wanted to share that with him so he could go and live out some of her dreams for her. 

At least, that’s what she said. 

Ted knows that the real reason that she sent him off to Amsterdam was to get him out of the house.

It’s funny. 

Before everything with his father went down, his mother used to scold him for running around town with his friends, begging him to just stay inside for one night. 

Now, she begs at his bedroom door every night for him to come down and eat dinner. 

It’s funny in the worst way possible. 

His mother had told him that she didn’t want him to miss out on any memories with his classmates and Ted didn’t have the heart to tell her that he didn’t care much about memories. In fact, these days, Ted doesn’t care much about anything anymore. 

That’s how he ends up in some museum having a staring contest with some damned sunflowers. 

“What did Van Gogh ever do to you?” he hears a British accent pipe up from behind him.

He turns to the source of the sound and finds a girl about his age dressed in a school uniform.

Her blonde hair is tied up in a neat ponytail with a couple of stray pieces framing her face. She’s so tall that he has to check that she isn’t wearing six-inch stilettos. She flashes him a smile and he can see the pink bands of her braces. 

His palms grow clammy and he wipes them on his slacks as sneakily as possible. 

“Uh…I...” he stammers, “Just don’t really get the appeal of sunflowers, there’s about a bajillion better flowers to choose from.”

She barks out a laugh.

“Is that your real accent?” 

His heart sinks.

He should’ve known better. How on Earth would a girl like her, who's probably from some expensive part of England, be into the whole Yankee Doodle situation he's got going on?

Ted simply nods before turning his attention back to Van Gogh and his damned sunflowers. 

“I like it.” she says warmly as she walks over to stand beside him, “Where’s it from?”

“Uh, Kansas.” he answers, “What about you? Where are you from?”

“Surrey.”

“Oh, I was just asking where you’re from.” he repeats as he faces her front on, enunciating a little bit more. 

She gives him an odd look. 

“Surrey… As in South East England.”

“Oh!” Ted exclaims, “I thought you were just saying sorry!”

She laughs loudly, breaking some silent rule or two in the museum as they garner the attention of other patrons. 

Ted pays them no mind as he stares at the way she throws her head back chuckling. He smiles when he hears her snort.  

“What’s your name?” he asks. 

“Becca Welton.”

He offers his hand and Becca accepts it, shaking it firmly like she’s probably been taught in those posh etiquette classes. 

“Theodore Lasso.” 

In the corner of the room, he sees girls dressed in the same uniform as Becca begin to make their way to an adult holding a clipboard. 

“Hey Becca, I think your class might be leaving.”

He points in the direction of the group. As soon as Becca makes eye contact with the group, they begin to motion her over urgently, tapping insistently at imaginary watches. 

“Oh, shit, thanks” she answers, “It was nice meeting you, Theodore.”

For a moment, Becca doesn’t make any move to leave despite her words indicating a goodbye. Instead, she stares at his face intensely. For a moment, Ted's worried he broke some cultural norm and Becca is going to sock him in the jaw for it. 

Then, she grabs a hold of both of his shoulders and reels him in to press a short kiss to his cheek. 

Becca backs away shortly after, burning bright red. She turns away without another word and rushes over to her class, her ponytail flicking back and forth as she goes.

Dazed, Ted brings a hand up to his cheek to feel the sticky imprint Becca’s lip gloss left. 

Maybe, Amsterdam wouldn’t be all bad. 

[shaftking]

Ao3 is actually massively culturally important and very very good at being what it is. I’m so serious when I say that ao3 needs to be protected as the anti censorship, by fans for fans, nonprofit, volunteer run, expertly designed archival site that it is. You don’t have to read or like fanfiction to understand that on principle, ao3 is a site that should be defended.

[ao3-anonymous]

What in the fanfic hell is this?? 😂😂

[toointojoelmiller]

better than drugs

[pixiemage]

Please, for the love of god, please don’t be this person. No matter how long it’s been since an update, no matter how many unfinished stories are sitting on their account, no matter what - do not be this person.

Not only is it insanely rude, but you also do more damage than you think be being such a self-entitled ass about something someone created for free and for fun. “This author” can see what you say.

RIP decency indeed.