Big steps, friendship, prosecco. Enjoy!

excerpt: They are in his bed, the rain is tapping against the windows. It’s Saturday morning and they have no plans. She is curled up against Charles, her head on his shoulder, his arm around her. He plants kisses in her hair and softly strokes the inside of her elbow.


“What are you thinking about?” he asks, always so perceptive (except when it came to their shared longing for each other).

Thank you, deeedeeedeeedeee for the always awesome beta magic, and thank you onesimus42 for the amazing spotify playlist that accompanies the fic! You are awesome.

Good heavens, the goobers are SO happy. So, a little domestic scene with a bit of smut seemed to be in order. And a little bit of a chat between Elsie and Anna. Hope you’ll enjoy!

excerpt: “So how are things going between you and Mr Carson?”

Elsie delights in the mischievous twinkle in Anna’s eyes. Though things may never be the same again, they are still the same people - underneath it all.

“Really, you must try and call him ‘Charles’,” Elsie deflects, thinking of how Mr Charles Carson’s lips and tongue were at a very intimate part of her anatomy not an hour ago.

“That well, huh?” Anna slurps from her novelty coffee (noisily, with glee and childlike satisfaction).

Thank you, deeedeeedeeedeee, for your help.

 Elsie’s daring gamble paid off and we’ve left our beautiful pair snogging in his desk chair. Unfortunately, they cannot stay there forever…

excerpt: Why had she offered to do a simulation with Daisy? The thought keeps running through her mind. After the broadcast (after their rather heated snog, more like), she’d had to run and she had seen the look on Charles’s face.  Uncomprehending, almost hurt and now she sits here, in a vacant booth, watching Daisy adjusting the mic and listening to questions Daisy answers herself, in this quick-talking, high-pitched, unnerving way. After she sets Daisy a small assignment, she goes over the meagre contents of her fridge in her mind.


He will come over, won’t he?

Thank you, deeedeeedeeedeee for understanding that Dutch interpunction and English texts don’t always go together.

With their hashtag trending and the awkwardness between them an all-time high, it is time to press on and make some tough choices.

excerpt: On Monday morning she had slid into her booth, he had settled behind his desk and they had pretended everything was alright, that there was nothing out of the ordinary, even though emails kept coming in, letters arrived and their hashtag kept trending. Elsie kept looking at Charles from behind her computer and she thought how much she loved him.

Thank you, deeedeeedeeedeee — you are my personal Link in this Hyrule of a fic.

Getting a corset out in the name of art.

You guys are honestly the best! Thank you all for being so wonderfully encouraging about my Modern AU! [insert lovehearts here]

So, lets move on to chapter 3, eh? For shits and giggles.

excerpt: She looks at the big bear of a man and the way he frowns at the stack of letters on his desk. Elsie doesn’t need much imagination to know what they are about. He’s looked at her pretty funny when she came in to bring him his mid-show cuppa and he keeps looking at her, which is making her very uncomfortable indeed. There are only two things she can do, she’s decided. One: pretend nothing’s happened; or two: press on.

And as per usual: Thank you deeedeeedeeedeee - you are awesome for giving me your time and the use of your expertise. *snuggles*

Thank you all so very, very much for being so generous and kind and wonderful about reaching my milestone! But lets not forget to post the second chapter now - because there is a lot to come after the initial first one! Please don’t hesitate to let me know what you think!

excerpt: “… as most of you know, a Zappa fan set fire to the Montreux casino — the festival’s venue — and things were decidedly frantic and frightening. The incident inspired one of Deep Purple’s greatest hits: Smoke on the water.”

Elsie is leafing through a magazine, not paying much attention to the man on the other side of the glass. She has her cup of tea, biscuits Beryl Patmore had left in the break room. She doesn’t care for Deep Purple much. It’s Friday and she’s not slept well.

Thank you, deeedeeedeeedeee . Beta hero.

This is it. My fiftieth fic. In two-and-a-half years I have thrown 334.532 words on the page (plus deleted a fair few more) and received numerous reviews, PMs, likes and reblogs. I have become part of an ever-changing, welcoming community and have made amazing friends I could not imagine being without.

(Further A/N when you click through!)

excerpt: On the other side of the glass is Mr Charles Carson, the star of his own show: a mid-morning staple for the Yorkshire forty-five to seventy demographic - the age group with the most expendable income and it shows in their ratings and the ad breaks for luxury cruises, life insurance policies and the RAC.

He sits at an old-fashioned wooden desk, facing her, but he is always fiddling with his record player, laptop and mic and she knows he has a thick block note filled with hundreds of little facts he collects and shares with his listeners. Sometimes he reuses his factoids, knowing there are few people who have the memory of an elephant (like Elsie has) and she always smiles when he gets enthusiastic about a personal favourite.

Thank you, deeedeeedeeedeee and owlsiehoot for your neverending support, kindness, love and beta magic.

Today it’s ‘just’ an angsty oneshot - but one I’d love to hear your opinions about, so don’t hesitate. 

excerpt: She’s taken a bath — a rather hot one — in hopes to chase away the cold that lingers within her, but it’s not helped. The two blankets she has wrapped herself in only manage to make her feel locked away, imprisoned. The cold comes from loneliness, she thinks, and from fear. Nothing will make her feel warm. Not tonight, not any other day. She wrestles herself free from the cotton sheet and wool that cover her and she lies on her back, her breath hitching in her throat, her hand on her breast. She can only feel it when she presses harder.

Thank you, downtondownstairs and deeedeeedeeedeee for your invaluable input!

It’s epilogue time! You all know what that means: happy endings are just around the corner. Prepare for some T-rated fluff. Enjoy!

excerpt: His sudden words knock all the sense from her — she does not answer him. She watches him leave (she thinks there might be a spring in his step that wasn’t there before, a lightness about him because of what he’s just said, and her heart is pounding hard) and she catches his smile when he looks over his shoulder.

Thank you, deeedeeedeeedeee - this last chapter didn’t come easy, did it…