#deniall

i do not regret you

band au / exes au / social au

feat. deniall x snowbaz x kerixie

a @mooncello and @monbons collab with special guests @whatevertheweather, @artsyunderstudy & @emeryhall

Eighteen months after leaving his former band—the globally famous ICARUS—Niall Connelly returns to music, with a new sound and new music partner. His best friend and ICARUS guitarist, Baz Pitch, immediately supports him. His shiny new bandmate, Simon Snow, is an unknown and mesmerizing talent. His fans are obsessed. And his ex, Dev Pitch, the frontman and lead vocalist of ICARUS, has a million unanswered questions ... and he's also still stupidly, entirely, helplessly in love.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10

part 11 part 12 part 13 part 14 part 15

part 16 part 17 part 18 part 19, part 20

part 21, part 22 part 23 part 24 part 25

part 26 part 27 part 28 part 29 part 30

part 31 part 32 part 33 part 34 part 35

part 36 part 37 part 38 part 39 part 40

accessible version available on ao3.

bonus features:

🎧 fic playlists

💿 band discographies

🧵 fiber art

🤘 Rolling Stone cover story

🪽 ICARUS origin story

That's a Wrap!

It's the "last dance" for the dolls. While our fic will continue for a few more days, my guys are bowing out!

It has been a pleasure to bring i do not regret you to life alongside @mooncello. This was our passion project for a whole year, and I am going to miss our plotting and dreaming more than I can say.

I take great comfort in the fact that our little world now lives on in you, dear reader. Anyone who has interacted with this fic or the art in any way will surely have fallen in love with this version of SnowBaz and Deniall and all the other characters that make up this amazing found family, so...

Thank you for dreaming with us. Thank you for rocking out to ICARUS and Mixed Metals. And, thank you most of all for saying yes to queer love and trans joy.

peace, love, and metal monbons

Six Sentence Sunday

Happy Sunday, friends ♥️ Thank you @monbons and @mooncello for the tags, I am tantalised and entinced by your collab sneak peaks!

Two posts in a week? I’m being uncharacteristically on it, apparently. But not TOO on it. Chronic fatigue hit HARD in September and I’ve only just nagivated my way out of it. As a result, I’m desperately trying not to put too much pressure on myself, even though that means limiting what I do for enjoyment as well as work.

That said, something amazing happened the other day. Having been unable to write a single word of Snow On Ice for weeks without heaps of self doubt, I was listening to a writing podcast when inspiration (and my meds, which have not worked in weeks thanks to fatigue being too powerful) finally hit. When I came out of my inspired fugue state I’d written a 2300 word draft for the final section of the chapter. Woo!! It still needs a loooot of cleaning up, and putting into first person POV, but it felt like a big step forward.

Sentences and more ramblings under the cut.

Hi all, Happy Wednesday! I feel bad that I haven’t been around much the past few weeks. If I’m honest, things are pretty difficult right now, but we press on, right? Thank you so much to everyone who’s been tagging me; I have so much catching up to do!

I’ve been on and off productive in my own writing, so I’ll share a little bit of everything fandom-related I’ve written lately:

Pull Yourself Together: I can juuuust about touch the end of this one! It’s been so long since the last chapter was posted, but I really do feel like I’ll finish this week. Here’s a hurt-y snippet (Baz POV, natch):

I’ve untangled myself from Snow’s sweaty embrace (again) and we’ve performed the daily ritual of sitting up and climbing off the bed together; we’re experts now. We’re expert at not talking to each other about it, too.

Crowley, what are bodies? Even though I’m not really alive, I somehow still have to deal with the utter ridiculousness and indignity of corporeality and its attendant needs. I try to imagine a world where I don’t have to want to jump Simon Snow’s bones every time he walks into the room (with his broad shoulders and his freckled face, and that blasted soft look he keeps giving me). I try to imagine a world in which his touch doesn’t instantly soothe my soul. It’s all too much. I don’t think it exists, this imaginary place where I’m not utterly obsessed with him. It’s more than physical; it’s infinite. A sob catches in my throat as I make my way into the en suite, and I quickly close the door.

Things are going a little better for the boys in The Field Trap, which believe it or not I have been working on. Another Baz POV:

Simon rolls his hips, tipping me onto my side so that we lie face to face. “I love you, Baz,” he whispers, rubbing his thumb beneath my lower lip. “I don’t know what I’m doing, but we’ll figure it out together.”

That’s all I want. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. The only light now is from the wood stove, and rain continues to beat the tin roof and ancient glass windows. Simon finds my mouth in the dark, and his hand slides down my belly to rest on my inner thigh. “Is this OK?” he mumbles, and I answer by clutching him closer. He pulls back to look me in the eyes. “Do you trust me?”

I do. I can’t find the strength to speak, so I nod frantically instead. Simon grabs the duvet and hurls it over us, then flashes me a cheeky grin before throwing his leg over me and disappearing under the covers. Crowley, I’m living a charmed life.

Last but definitely not least, some Dev POV from my COBB with @rimeswithpurple, in which I tried to be clever with Niall’s tattoo and was VERY late to the game discovering it worked on a much more obvious and funny level. Oops:

As though feeling my gaze, Niall looks up and removes a lollipop from his mouth. He leans over to pinch up a towel, remarking dryly, “Crumpled with intention.” He flaps it out toward me before dropping it.

“Piss off!” I snarl. He only gives me a wan smile before turning away, and what’s that about? As though I’m not worth his bloody time.

“Easy, gents,” Gareth soothes, scooting in to readjust the stacks of essentially folded towels. He quirks an eyebrow at me and nods toward Niall’s retreating figure; I don’t know why. I’m not going after him; he’s the one pointlessly nagging and haranguing me.

“Coming in hot today, Dev,” the American drawls as he swans past. At least Shepard has a passing acquaintance with a sense of style, quirky though it may be. Niall, on the other hand, is showing off yet more in his wardrobe range of ghastly earth tones today. Although, he does have a lovely blush-coloured button-down on beneath his snug-fitting khaki cardigan. He’s wearing his hair down this morning and must have nicked some of Baz’s product, because it’s curling around his face in smooth auburn waves rather than the halo of frizz he normally yanks back into an artless bun.

I’ve finally determined that the line of the tattoo I noticed is a river, although I have no idea how far it may wind down his pale torso, nor what other landscaping may be involved. I scowl as the term ‘landscaping’ lodges in my brain and refuses to leave. Fuck my life.