#I finished my first multi-chapter fic! Thank you so much to everyone who encouraged me to keep going. I couldn't have done it without you ❤

[adhdprincess]

Remember that crazy AU where Tess died? Fuckin brutal. Glad that didn't really happen.

Here's a multi-chapter fic where Tess lives, written in Ellie's snarky POV.

Summary: Ellie, Joel, and Tess learn to live on the road together without wringing each other's necks in the process. Ellie is feral, Joel is savage, and Tess is trying to get everyone to Wyoming in one piece.

Set during the 3-month timeskip before winter. There are wonderful character arcs and nice campfire scenes, but it gets dramatic as hell—buckle up.

20k words, 3 chapters. I worked on this for 3 months.

[thebigbiwolf]

Spittle - Part 1/2

Summary: The chocolate seems innocent enough - if you look past the Infernal writing on the wrapper, and with so few pleasures in the wilderness, you all but jump at the chance to sneak yourself a small treat.

Unbeknownst to you, the bar is infused with succubus spittle. Just one square is rumored to contain enough potency to send a mortal into the throes of ecstasy.

This is what happens when you eat half the bar.

Fic Tags: Sex Pollen (kinda), aphrodisiacs, succubus magic, a bit of dom!Astarion, unprotected piv, overstimulation, he talks you through it (iykyk), more tags will be added later.

Fic Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Dubcon (if you squint), Language, No use of Y/N, magical influence

Read on AO3: Here

A/N: Remember the dead spider? I remember the dead spider. Anyways, the reception I've been getting on Starvin', Darlin' has me wanting to thank everyone with a one-shot. This got away from me so I went ahead and split it into two parts.

I've never written anything like this and it was significantly more difficult than a multi-chapter fic. I hope everything comes across the way its supposed to! And a huge thank you to my beta @imaginarydromedary for...you know... encouraging me to post this, despite everything.

From what you could tell, there wasn’t much to the apothecary. 

As you push open the dilapidated doors, your first thought is to search for supplies - anything that could help if things went south on your way to the goblin camp. 

Dried herbs hang from the rafters beneath a thin veil of cobwebs, filling your lungs with a pungent clash of scents. Empty bottles lined the shelves along the wall, caked in several months worth of dust. Large chunks of the building were missing where stone met splintered wood, some areas almost entirely overtaken by greenery.

You step over broken shards of pottery, scanning over the floor and countertops for something - anything that may be of use, but to your disappointment, it seems like the shop was entirely ransacked long before your arrival.

You sigh deeply, knowing you’ll likely never hear the end of this from your companions. It was your idea to search the village. You were the one who suggested taking out the goblin scouts, exerting everyones’ energy, and now you’re afraid you’ll have very little to show for it.

You catch a glint of gold, an object reflecting the sun's rays beneath a pile of rubble. You kneel down to brush away the surrounding debris, thankful for even the smallest promise of coin before your hands catch on… some sort of serrated edge?

You pull at it, and it easily comes loose. It's a thin, rectangular block, just barely larger than the length of your hand. You wipe away some of the dirt with your sleeve, revealing an intricately designed foil wrapping underneath.

As you speculate what this might be, you hear footsteps approaching from behind, light and familiar. You turn to face the elf with a smirk.

“You’re supposed to be the stealthy one.” You chide at him, playfully, “Or has my blood put a little skip in your step?”

Astarion scoffs. “I’ve been here the entire time, watching you fumble around in the dirt.” 

Crimson eyes study you, then the object you’re holding. He places his hands on his hips, head cocked to the side with a raised brow. “Is that what you’ve dragged us all the way here for?”

“First of all,” you waggle a finger at him, “You’re especially grumpy when you’re tired. I’ll have to make a note to prioritize your beauty rest. Second, I haven’t finished looking around, but check this out.”

You hand the bar to him as you stand. The cool skin of his fingers brush against your own, and you’re irritated with the way your heart skips at the brief contact. Why did the one man you found attractive in your camp have to be such a primadonna? And such a huge pain in the ass? 

Astarion’s eyes scan over the textured paper with suspicion, angling it towards the light to get a better look. The golden wrapping is stamped with an image of red lips On the back, letters twist and curve in a language you don't recognize, following a single circular pattern where they meet in the center. You’ve never seen anything like this, neither in your travels, nor within the city walls of Baldur’s Gate.

“Where did you find this?” 

You shrug, then point to the pile next to you. “It was buried right there.” 

He silently stares at the foil, mouth pursed, until your patience begins to wear thin.

“Well, can you read it or not?”

His nose scrunches. “Of course I can’t read it. It’s written in Infernal.”

That’s… odd. Why would an ordinary apothecary sell goods made by devils? Or, worse, for devils. Unless, of course, it was some sort of marketing trick, perhaps a play on the phrase ‘sinfully sweet’, or some other cringeworthy branding.

You take it back, turning it over in your hands before tearing at the corner of the wrapping. It's sectioned into dark, rich squares, and smells indisputably like chocolate.

“It looks like candy.”

“An excellent observation.” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now, can we go? We’ve spent more than enough time here already.”

You roll your eyes and stuff it into your bag, setting off for camp, vampire in tow.

–

During dinner, you decide not to tell the others about what you found, knowing Astarion’s likely already forgotten the event. You set down your empty plate, thanking Gale for tonight’s meal. He smiles at you and bids you goodnight as you excuse yourself to your tent. 

You pick up your rucksack, thinking fondly of the dessert that awaits you inside. Having lived at the beck and call of your companions for weeks on end, you can’t help but smile at the idea of selfishly indulging in a small treat like this.

You tear open the rest of the wrapping and snap off one of the squares, immediately popping one into your mouth. It melts - buttery in texture, with a smokey, slightly bitter flavor. You can’t remember the last time you’ve eaten something so rich. Maybe weeks of the same rations have made you easier to impress, but this felt especially notable.

As you break off a second piece, a strange tingling sensation begins to spread across your lips - a pleasant buzzing that starts at your neck and spreads down through your chest. 

Strange, but not entirely unwelcome. You’ve heard of such inebriating chocolates, ones laced with alcohol or species of flowers that numb one’s senses for a short while. All harmless, of course, and you don’t have watch tonight. You may as well enjoy yourself. If worst comes to worst, Shadowheart is just outside with an assortment of spells and potions. Always better to ask for forgiveness.

It only takes you minutes to finish half the bar. You set the rest next to your bedroll for later and turn to blow out your candles, enjoying the lingering physical effects of the chocolate. Your skin feels flushed and delightfully warm as you settle down for the night.

When sleep finally takes you, it's dreamless, at first. Your consciousness sways, floating in an empty abyss, until colors begin to bleed onto the blank canvas of your mind.

A trickle of red morphs into the shape of familiar eyes, piercing you with their intensity..

Droplets of white spatter over a dark background, diffusing, blending into whisps. They curl and twist before settling into soft, coiffed fibers. 

Hair , you recognize immediately, his hair . His eyes.

Astarion. 

His image fully takes form, as if it had been waiting for you to make the connection before entirely revealing itself. 

He reaches out and seizes you, grabbing painfully at your hips as you crash into his body, hands exploring you - tight, possessive, squeezing at every inch of exposed skin before settling on the curve of your ass. He digs into your flesh with the blunt edge of his nails.

His lips press hot, wet kisses to your throat, mouthing just below the ear, before dragging his tongue along your nape and sucking, hard . You whine at the pressure, eliciting a grin from the elf, so characteristically pleased with the pathetic little noise he’s managed to pull from you.

“You thought sleeping would allow you to escape this - to escape me , unscathed?” He growls against your skin, his voice almost unrecognizable - as if it’s layered beneath a lighter, somehow more arrogant, feminine one.

“No, no, no. Wake up, darling. You’re in for a very long night.”

–

You startle awake, gasping - loud, labored breaths struggling to make use of the unbearably thin air. The edges of your tent bleed in and out of focus, spinning at a nauseating pace as you attempt to recollect yourself.

You wipe at the sweat collecting on your brow, the muscles of your arm heavy and aching, and find that your skin is absolutely drenched. 

Hot. Why is everything so hot? 

It's as if you're being cooked alive beneath your blankets, strangled beneath the furs. You throw them off; normally soft to the touch, the fibers now only worsen the prickling beneath your skin.

Could this be some sort of illness? A fever? 

No, this doesn’t make sense. Everything feels off. 

Fleeting thoughts of Astarion cross your mind - quick flashes of a sinful smile that was not his own.

It didn’t quite match the one you’d silently come to admire, and now that you think of it, the hunger in his gaze was much too intense for the reserved elf. 

His hands, his mouth, the way he touched you -

Your abdomen cramps, bringing your thoughts to a screeching halt.

A stabbing, visceral pain; a knife plunging into your organs. It overwhelms you, forces your body to curl into itself. You hold your pelvis, grunting, and grasp at your sheets. Tears sting the corner of your eyes.

This is - well, you have no idea what this is. 

You can’t think past the pounding in your head, the throbbing in your midsection. You're compulsively twisting, writhing, begging the gods for some sort of reprieve, but it's then when you make the most mortifying discovery of the night.

You’re soaked .

N ot just your smallclothes, which may have been understandable given your strange dreams, but through your damned pants. Not even the sheets were spared. 

“What  in the hells…?” 

You run your fingers over yourself, only intending to confirm the horrifying reality of your situation - that this is not, in fact, some sick, perverted nightmare, but the lightest touch sets off every nerve. 

You wail at the sensation: one massive wave of bliss giving way to several small jolts of pain. 

Pleasure to the point of agony.

The shock of the sudden orgasm courses from your sex through every limb, clenching and releasing pitiful, warm slick. It leaks freely out of you into your already thoroughly ruined underwear. 

Your heart pounds. You stay like that for what feels like a lifetime, toes curled, limbs twitching, waiting for your body to settle. 

After a minute or so, your breathing evens, and the thick haze surrounding your thoughts begins to lift just slightly, along with the suffocating heat. 

But something within you knows this isn’t the end - knows this isn’t enough . A desperation lurks beneath the surface that you can’t quite name. It screams at you. You need more.

‘Aw…’ A familiar, feminine voice prods at your mind. You quickly recognize her, the woman from your dreams who wore Astarion’s image.  

‘All alone, are we? Empty and needing to be filled? Doesn’t that hurt?’

It does. It aches unlike anything you’ve ever known. The lingering buzz of your orgasm just barely quells the worsening cramps, and they’re beginning to rear their ugly head again not minutes later.

You choke out a sob. “Wh- why are you doing this? What do you want?”

Sharp, wicked laughter fills your head, echoing off the walls of your skull. ‘I’m not doing anything, dear. Just enjoying the show.’ She hisses, ‘I told you, it’s going to be a very long night.’

You must be hallucinating. This fever - whatever this is, is simply cauterizing your senses, or possibly interacting with the tadpole? But the tadpole doesn’t speak, not like this. Never so clearly. Not with words.

Think, please. There has to be a reason this -

“Is everything alright?” Shadowheart raps on the canvas of your tent. “I heard a yelp. Are you hurt?”

Shit.

‘Ooh, this one might do!’  You feel an unwelcome… eagerness flood you.

No. No. Absolutely not.

You try not to panic. 

Under no circumstances should she or anyone else come in here.

The best strategy may be to ignore her - pretend you’re still sleeping. It seems like a good plan, but before you have a chance to follow through with it, another sharp contraction hits. This one is somehow even worse than the ones before. 

You pull your sheets up to your mouth to stifle your whine, but the half elf’s ears are sharper than most. “I’m coming in.”

She opens the flap to your tent and gasps when she sees you there - skin flushed pink, doubled over and covered in sweat. 

“Gods, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” Her hand reaches out towards you. 

Without thinking, you swat it away with your own. Your skin tingles at the contact, and the essence of a smile crosses over the threshold into your mind. The intruder giggles with satisfaction.

“Don’t,” you plead, “Don’t touch me.”

She scans over you, taking in your humiliating state. Her face twists with concern. “I need to know if you’re feverish. Please. You look awful.” 

‘Well, I think you look delectable.’

You groan.

At this point, you know it’s no use fighting this thing on your own. You go back and forth on whether you want to tell her the whole truth, about the voice in your head and its influence on your body, but the idea mortifies you into silence. 

Regardless, a cleric is likely your best chance of fixing this literal mess, so you nod, close your eyes, and brace yourself.

Shadowheart’s palm meets your forehead. It’s somehow worse than you anticipated. Even the simple, chaste touch sends you reeling, as if her soft hands are caressing your entire body. Flashes of heat wash over you, burning your skin, threatening to pull you back under another wave of ecstasy. 

It’s too much. You try your hardest to suppress a moan, but the muffled sound manages to escape from between your tightened lips, pitiful and broken.

The disembodied voice squeals with delight.

She quickly retracts her hand, clearing her throat. “Apologies. I can confirm your temperature is… elevated, but the rest…” She shakes her head. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

You want to scream, cry - anything to release your frustration, but you keep your mouth shut, not wanting to risk making any more unsavory noises.

“I believe I can give you some relief by treating the fever, but I’ll have to consult the others on the rest. This doesn’t look like any ordinary sickness.”

Consult the others? No. Gods, no. Nobody can know about this. Is she mad?

You intend to protest, beg her not to share this with anyone, tell her whatever death awaits you on the other side of this would be preferable, but she’s speaking an incantation before you have the chance.

A bright, green aura envelopes you, cooling your skin and ever so slightly easing the cramps. With the pain dulled, it's as though you can finally think again. 

You want to laugh. This situation is so utterly ridiculous that you’d find it hilarious, were it anyone else, but with the modicum of relief comes exhaustion - eyelids heavy, vision blurring with weariness.

“Get some rest. We’ll figure this out.” 

Her reassuring words are the last thing you hear before you’re overcome by darkness.

[trensu]

do you think you'll put "Stasis in darkness" on AO3 eventually?

see, when the idea first came to me, I hadn't really planned on doing anything with it because I wasn't sure if I could make it work. there's a level of gravitas in the relationship between a god and their devoted servant that I didn't think would translate well to steddie because, let's be real, those boys are goofy dorks. but the idea wouldn't leave me alone so I typed up the original post in an attempt to work it out of my system and move on.

(the post kind of blew up, which I was not expecting at all!! like, not even a little bit! i post all sorts of rough little ideas for my own amusement and I've been able to do that without drawing much attention until that point.)

Anyway, I wouldn't have done much with it but @acowardinmordor left some comments/tags/what have you that helped me nail down the setting in my head which really opened the door for me to explore how the story could progress. (apologies, strife, I'm not sure I ever properly thanked you for that burst of inspiration, so please accept this shoutout as an expression of gratitude). And the amazing @ent-is-indecisive allowed me to rant about it which really helped flesh out the story. Seriously, there are elements and lore coming up that would not have existed if it weren't for ent. (and thank you once again ent for the ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL fanart you made for the reveal scene, I'm still overcome with joy whenever I think about it!).

Once it got to that point, I knew I wanted it to be a self-contained story and I was afraid that if I did a multi-chapter fic I'd lose the thread and never make it to the ending I want the fic to have. (no, the end scene hasn't been written yet but I KNOW what it's going to be and I hope everyone will love it as much as i do). So I promised myself that I was not going to post it on ao3 until the whole thing was written out completely.

However, I occasionally need a confidence/motivation boost so I've been posting consecutive parts of the rough draft here. you have no idea how much the people who reblogged with tags or left comments have helped me fight off the discouragement my brain likes to bog me down with; off the top of my head, @godsweakestboy , @redfreckledwolf, @fuctacles , @spectrum-spectre , and @lawrencebshoggoth have given me lovely, enthusiastic words of encouragement. and they're only the ones I can think of at this moment. there's so many other people who've done this, so if you've ever left me nice tags or comments, please know that I've read every single one of them repeatedly whenever I need to get over a slump. I'm so grateful for all of you!

Anyway, all this is to say yes! It is going to be posted as a oneshot on ao3 once I've finished writing it. <3

[reliablejoukido]

NaNo Project Update #5: Week 4/Finale

"Somewhere Only We Know" Chapters 11-16

Chapter 11/16: Hikari and Takeru, mostly Hikari POV - 100% COMPLETE!

Chapter 12/16: Daisuke and Ken, both POV - 100% COMPLETE!

Chapter 13/16: Miyako and Koushiro, mostly Miyako POV - 100% COMPLETE!

Chapter 14/16: Ensemble adv cast, mostly Taichi POV - 0%

Chapter 15/16: Sora and Joe, mostly Sora POV - 0%

Chapter 16/16: Ensemble 02 cast, Mimi & Joe - multiple POV - 0%

I set out at the beginning of NaNo to write only SOWK, hoping to finish the story. Obviously it didn't quite work out that way, but I'm happy with getting 3 out of 6 chapters accomplished. I will make a more comprehensive project update soon, but in essence, I'm taking a break from writing this story until the spring. I WILL be posting the 3 finished chapters much sooner though.

_____________

"The Universal Language of Friendship" Chapters 1-6

ON HOLD - about 35% done

Still on hold. Still not feeling it. But I do have plans to return. Thank you to everyone supporting me.

_____________

"(Don't) stop flirting" - Daiken oneshot (rated M)

100% COMPLETE!

I'm really proud of how this one turned out, even though it was relatively short.

_____________

"Bar-Crossed Lovers" - Daiyako multi-chaptered (rated M)

100% COMPLETE!

I got this one up past 11k, which helped my NaNo numbers a lot. I adore Daiyako/Daimiya and I want to explore this ship more in the future. At first, with this fic, I was worried everything was too way silly. But then I realized I didn't have to make it serious if I didn't feel like it. So this is the most unabashedly romcom-y story I think I've ever written. And I've written a lot of romcom.

_____________

"Backstreet's Back" (working title) - Daikenkeru oneshot (rated explicit)

????%

I've had bits and pieces of this Daikenkeru threesome fic written for a few years now. Most of my writing for it took place after I reached 50k, but I'm still counting this as a project I worked on during NaNo. The fic is chaotic and sexy and weird. And if you know the real reason why the working title is "Backstreet's Back", I love you.

I want to take my time during December on this one, since I'm technically supposed to be taking a writing break. I'm sure there are people out there interested in reading this type of fic, so I've been wanting to actually finish it for a long time.

_____________

I accomplished 50k and beyond! All in all, my first NaNo was pretty fun. Everyone in the Camp Digimonth server was wonderfully kind and supportive, as well as my followers and mutuals here on tumblr. I'm really glad I took a chance with NaNo. I have to admit that I did get stressed out a few times trying to stay ahead of the game with my wordcount, causing me to panic about how I wanted to move forward with the month. But talking it out with encouraging friends was a blessing.

Work projects, my cousin's wedding, the 02 film, a bad headcold, Jou Weekend, and Thanksgiving all threw hurdles at me, both good and stressful. But I prevailed and I'm proud of myself. I still can't believe I decided to work on 5 projects over NaNo instead of one, but I think in doing that, it helped keep the momentum going. Whenever I got stuck on something with SOWK, I was able to pick up a different project and work from there. And all of those separate projects were something exciting to work on.

Anyway, I hope everyone who participated in NaNo 2023 had a good one, no matter where you ended up progress-wise with your projects. And a BIG thank you to everyone who was supportive of the people doing NaNo this month!

[lesbianrobin]

hi!! jumping off from all the love for ur fics (SO DESERVED by the way u are such a good writer + always nail the characterisations so well <3), i was wondering if u had any writing advice? i'm trying to start writing my own fics after years of reading others + finding it hard to actually finish anything once i get started

thank you so much!! i'm not an expert by any means but i have been writing lil fics since i was a kid and i took one (1) creative writing class so hopefully i can help a little bit!! i'm just gonna give you some bullet point tips if that's okay.

you'll have an easier time finishing the things you start if you start with small ideas. if you know you're unlikely to finish a super-long multi-chapter fic, then start with something short!! choose an idea that you can realistically explore and find some conclusion to within a thousand or two thousand words. for example, one of my favorite things i've ever written is i want your midnights, which is straight up just steve and robin hanging out and counting down the minutes til midnight on new years eve! it's only 2,156 words and i'm pretty sure i wrote it in one sitting. not that you have to write something in one sitting ksndcdm that isn't what i'm saying but my Point is that most people (myself included) need to work up to writing longer fics. there's nothing wrong with just writing a single scene! my "dear steve" fic ab max writing her goodbye letters is only 625 words. another one of my favorite fics is just about steve and max having a conversation at billy's funeral. i think single-scene fics like these really let you practice your dialogue and characterization without having to worry about plot at the same time.

write towards something!! this could mean just having an ending in mind when you start, or it could mean literally writing your big scenes first even if they don't come first chronologically. when i wrote my steve time loop fic, i actually wrote his big conversation with nancy and jonathan before almost anything else. that scene is over 3000 words into the fic, but it's the thing that really inspired me, so i went ahead and wrote it, and then i liked it so much that i was motivated to write all the stuff beforehand and then motivated to finish the fic up. this isn't gonna work for everyone. i know some people (cough sarah @steveharrington cough) who just can't make themselves write things out of order. but even if you write everything in order, it can help to keep in mind whatever you want to happen in the future to motivate you and give you some idea of how to direct your writing.

don't stop reading!! all the time i see people make mistakes or use clunky verbiage in fic that makes it clear they just. don't really read books or short stories or anything. like this might make me sound mean kdsjncdkmn but sometimes it can be like. really obvious when All somebody reads is fanfiction. i think that reading varied things (books, fics, short stories, articles, poems, etc) can also help you develop your own style because you'll get greater exposure to different writing techniques and have the opportunity to figure out what you like and don't like!

if you're new to writing in general, i encourage you to try different things. try writing a scene in past tense, then try it in present tense, see which you like better, that sort of thing!

this one is easier said than done, but having a writing buddy can be really helpful!! this doesn't necessarily need to be somebody who also writes fic. i send my bestie sarah updates as i write, and part of my motivation to write comes from how fun it is to send her updates and get her reactions to everything!! writing can be a very solitary hobby if you want it to be, but it can also be social, and i personally find it way more rewarding when it's social.

btw if you're gonna be sharing your fics with friends i think the best place to write is in google docs. it's super easy to share with others and you can access your files on any device which i find convenient because i often end up writing on my phone in bed at night bc i had some idea i just couldn't let go.

ok this is getting way longer than i meant it to be snjcdkx so LAST TIP! i'm gonna caution against reading a Ton of fic while you're writing. i think if you read a lot of fic sometimes it can throw off your characterization. instead of actually getting inside the character's head, you default to parroting whatever fics you've read. i'm like a freak about characterization i'm very picky about it skdndkmc but people compliment me on my characterization a lot and i think that's because i make a conscious effort to keep my fics grounded in the characters' canon behavior and my Own understanding of them rather than the fanon understanding.

that's about it!! please ask if you have any more specific questions or if you're confused about anything i said here, i know i can get very ramble-y at times. thank you again and i hope you have fun writing!!

[andiinaraethtash]

1, 2, 9, 10, 20, 23, 31 aaaaand 40! <3

Okay, so I write on two different platforms: Zenwriter and Google docs. I do the first draft on Zenwriter, in comic sans, and then copy it to google docs, where I edit it. I don't care what font it's in there.

2) I could do it, my productivity would be way down, but I could do it. As it is, I do little outlines of future chapters in one of my many, many, many notebooks by hand.

9) I don't, actually. I joke about there being a ghost in my house occasionally, but I don't believe there actually is. It's just a funny way of explaining why the floor boards are creaking above us when no one's upstairs.

10) Hmm... I read. A lot. More than I write, honestly. So when I say that multiple works live rent-free in my head, I mean it. But really haunting me? No, not really. Of my own works, the one that haunts me the most is probably my really big Clone Wars/Rebels crossover, because I made mistakes, mistakes that I can't take back, especially because everyone I've talked to really enjoyed reading it, and I can't change what happened in it now. And that has, on occasion, kept me up at night.

20) Oh, I would chose the second one, hands down. I have so many ideas for fics and multiple WIPs, but the one I would probably pick is like, a seven part series with each part being multi chapter. It's the first Star Wars fanfic I ever started, but I never finished it, even though I know exactly how it'll end (Star Wars was my main fandom before I made the move to Empires, for those of you that don't know). But it had multiple characters that I fell in love with, a overarching theme that really resonated with me, and some serious twists and turns. I really want to release it someday, I'm just not sure I'll ever be happy with it because it's my baby and I want it to be perfect.

23) So! So. I still live with my parents, I'm about to be starting college in the fall. But that means I live in a relatively spacious suburban home. It has a game room upstairs that has become the unofficial homework/work/computer room. That's where I do the majority of my writing. I don't want to describe too much because at least one of my siblings has a blog on this hellsite and there's a chance they might see this and put the pieces together about who I am, but there's a couch in front of one window that has lots of natural light, where I usually sit and write. I also have a desk space, but I usually only use it if I'm gaming. But there's always activity in the room. The dogs are up here, my dad's up here, my siblings are studying... it's very comfortable and lived in, but clean and quiet... when the dogs aren't barking, at least.

31) Dear reader, We've come such a long way, haven't we. From the highest highs to the lowest lows, we've been through it all. Stars, the number of times one or both of us have almost quit hoping is insane, you know that? But we haven't. We've always pushed through. And I don't know how you do it. I honestly don't. You come in with such enthusiasm and--and love, and it just blows my mind.

You're incredible, you know that? The amount of joy you bring into my life with your upbeat attitudes, your encouragement, your endless support of what started out as a silly little way to pass the time... it has honestly, genuinely saved my life.

I don't know if you know this--and you might, I've been pretty open about it--but I got to a low point a couple years back. I got lonely. I got desperate. And I almost ended it all. But I didn't, and one thought from that time still echoes in my head. If I'm not around to tell this story, who will? Because someone out there will love this, does love this, and I can't let them down.

So in your own way, you've saved my life. I hope you understand how incredible that is--how incredible you are. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, and I love you. More than words. More than life. I love you.

--Andiine

40) I hope you understand I am no poet, but here goes:

small

unnoticeable

Just a speck in the plane of existence

but precious to someone, somewhere

Here, now

you're just a dewdrop

bending a leaf under your fragile weight

But oh, how I wish you knew how important you are

You nourish the ground

From which grow the flowers

that will one day decorate my grave.

Thank you so much for the ask, and sorry if this got long (or sappy. I am known to be sappy on occasion.) Hope you enjoyed this look into a writer's mind!

[roger-that-cap]

once upon a december

summary: you had no idea who you were, how you got to where you were, or even your real age. all you knew was that you needed to go to auren, and something there would help you find the family that you always secretly craved. little did you know, you’d find family far before you actually got to auren.

warnings: nothin’. maybe a little swearing possibly? memory loss (lol)

word count: 4.7k

so, not this being my first multi-chaptered fic up here… WOW. there’s absolutely no reason for me to put this out right now other than the fact that i wanted it to leave my drafts. ha!

part one!

You had known the cold your whole life.  When you woke up after god knows what happened, you were in the cold snow, face buried in it, clothes wet with it, and so that was what you knew. You laid in the snow for what seemed like forever, and you were lucky that a man was on his horse, selling trinkets that were said to belong to some lost princess of a far off land. The “Land of Always Summer”, everyone in the orphanage liked to call it. He carried you up onto his horse and dumped you right at the orphanage, and you weren’t even conscious enough to move your lips to thank him. But you would never forget his face and the way he tipped his hat, snow flurrying around before hopping up on his horse again and disappearing like he never existed in the first place. 

  The cold was the first thing you remembered, and the first part of the life that you now knew. Everything else was such a blur that you never even bothered to attempt at remembering what your life used to be, especially not when all of the other kids were around. 

  Growing up, they all thought you were weird. They had all been dropped off as young children, some even babies in the vicious winter storm. They knew that they couldn’t have done anything that made their parents want to chuck them, because they were too young to do so. But you? For you to have been thrown to the side at fifteen or sixteen years old, you must have been really weird. And to make it worse, you couldn’t even defend yourself. You knew nothing about yourself. Not even your name. But they had that covered for you.  

 At first, they called you Stacy. It was an old name, a name that was slowly on the rise again. It was easy to remember, and it wasn’t degrading, so you went with it at first. And then, one night, you woke up and shook your head, determined to name yourself, and not have others name you. You would give yourself at least that. Something would be yours, and if it wasn’t going to be memories, then it would be your name. You decided randomly on Y/N, and then that was what you were called from there. For years at the orphanage, that was who you were. 

  But you were done. It was the day. You had finally come of age, and it was time for you to leave, unless you wanted to be employed there. You surely did not. You were ready to get away from the people that ran the place, and the children that you grew up with and watched grow, except one. You were packing your bag, trying to keep the smile off of your face in order to not make any of the others feel bad. 

 “Today, isn’t it?” You jumped, even though the voice was one that you easily recognized. It was Lucas, the little boy who had practically become your shadow ever since he was brought to the doorstep as a baby. You were the oldest kid, you were a girl, and he had no mother. You were the one who was in charge of taking care of him because somehow, you knew how to take care of children. And you loved him, you loved him more than you had ever loved anything in your “new” life. He would be the hardest thing to leave, without question. 

  “Yes, honey.” You stopped packing your small bag so that you could walk up to him and crouch down to his height, his curly hair and sad brown eyes really plucking at your heartstrings. “I’m leaving now.” 

  “When will you be back?” He asked slowly, his eyes getting a little watery. But he had thick skin, skin so thick, skin that no child should have to wear. He wiped his eyes quickly. “Will you be back at all?” 

  “I will be, one day.” He was young, and you were hopeful, but you both knew that the chances of you coming back to the mild hell of the orphanage were slim to none. 

  “I want to leave, too.” He said, his voice tapering off into a whine at the end, his brows scrunching together. “I don’t like it here.” 

In every aspect, you thought about taking him with you. But you had nothing to support him with. You were sure that you were going to starve for a while even by yourself, and you couldn’t take the possibility of him being taken in by a good family who could provide for him away because you wanted to keep him close. “I know you don’t, sweetheart. But someone is going to see just how adorable you are and give you everything you want, alright?” 

 “A good mommy or daddy?” 

“Absolutely, my love.” You pulled him into a hug and closed your eyes, and you knew that it would probably be the last time that you were ever going to hug him. You squeezed him twice, drawing out a giggle from his little body. “Because you… what? Finish.” 

 “Because I deserve it.” 

You pulled away and smiled with pride. “That’s right. Because you deserve it.” You patted his head before turning to finish with your bag, and you hoped that you were fast enough so that he didn’t see your watering eyes. 

 It took him a few more minutes to say anything, but you knew that he was standing there and watching with his wide eyes, curiosity flaring up inside of him like always. “Don’t you have a coat?” He asked quietly. “It’s winter time.” 

“Sure, I have a coat,” you lied, your voice a calming hum in the otherwise quiet room.

 You didn’t have a coat anymore. You gave him your coat not even three weeks ago, when the heat of the fire wasn’t enough for him to stay warm in the dark of the night. You worked with dull scissors all night and a thick sewing needle that you borrowed without the warden knowing, and you got to work with the needle and made him a nice fur blanket. It was much nicer than any of the ones that any of you and the others had ever been given, and he was convinced that you hired a seamstress to make it for him. You took the compliment. 

  That was your clue, though. Your singular clue to who you were, and it wasn't even big. You remembered how to do nothing but walk, talk, write, and read in the beginning. You were about as smart as anyone else, and unlike them, you had no hobbies. Until you went to a village and saw a cheap little sewing kit, and it sparked something so faint in your mind that you knew that you would work extra chores just to be able to buy it. You knew it. 

 You were an absolute goddess with a needle and some fabric, as it turned out. Your hand never wavered, your aim was never off, and no stitch was ever too tight or too loose. Your first stitching was immaculate, and so were your second, and third, and so forth. It wasn’t until Sophia, a girl who had been with you since you had started, suggested that it was a clue to who you once were that you truly considered it to be. From then on, sewing was all you had. You hoped that it would be enough. 

  “Why don’t you get on to breakfast, and I’ll be there in a few minutes.” You suggested, turning your head to give him a little smile of encouragement. He shrugged his shoulders and bounded away, leaving you with your own thoughts for a moment. 

You knew what you had to do. You had to go to the nearest town and get a job there, wherever you could knit something. You would get fast money there, hopefully, and maybe the money that you got would make you enough to buy a ticket, one to take you to the one place that stuck in your mind like it was pasted. Auren. 

Ever since you heard of the land where warmth surrounded you and the sun came down brightly on everything that breathed, you wanted to go. The cold was welcoming in a way, but the Kingdom of Auren was said to be the prettier one between it and Yuran. Yuran was cold and unforgiving, but beautiful if one allowed themselves an open mind. You didn’t want to have to think too much, not about something that should be so plain in front of you. But Auren was far, and it was expensive to get there. 

Chore money hardly got you that sewing kit, and it sure as hell wasn’t enough for a horse, or a train ticket. 

  By the time you got to the breakfast table with your bag around your shoulders, your plate was already made. Lucas was sitting next to it, where he always sat, and he grinned at you the second you walked into the room. The others were all demolishing their breakfast, because it was a good meal today. Bacon and eggs and even pancakes, which were a rarity. A big meal was made every time a person aged out or got adopted, and it was tradition. You almost teared up. It was your big meal, this time. 

You sat down in the chair and ruffled Lucas’s hair, putting the napkin on your lap and rearranging your spoon and fork. The sounds of cutlery against dishes was almost as loud as the others chewing, sloppily and without a care in the world as they stole glances at you, even the ones who didn’t particularly care for you. 

“Loosen up, would you?” A boy named Julius asked, like he did at every meal. “You always look so… so…” 

“You look fancy when you eat.” Sophia explained in a bored tone, nodding towards the way you held your fork and knife. “I don’t know why he feels the need to say it every single time we sit down together, but-”

“Because it’s true, Sophie,” he spat, and you sighed. You wouldn't miss the arguing, that was for sure. 

“So, where will you go?” Dalia, a brown skinned girl who had the cutest gap in her teeth and the brightest eyes in the orphanage asked. 

“I’m hoping to get a job as a seamstress in the village,” you said somewhat strongly, even though you were nervous. Actually, you were nearly bursting out of your own skin. What if they didn’t take you? 

“That will be a good job for you, you’re really good at it.” The entire facility could agree on that. Every time one of them ruined their pants or ripped a shirt so badly that the caretakers just told them to throw it away, they came to you. From the time that you came and up until the day you left, you had made entire wardrobes for them all. 

“I hope so, Dal.” You sighed out, giving a nice smile when you put a syrupy piece of pancake in your mouth, not talking until you swallowed again. “Are you guys going to be good?” 

“We’re always good, Y/N,” Lucas said with a small eye roll. “You don’t have to worry about us.” You wished that you didn’t. 

After everyone was finished eating, the door opened, and in walked the tall and broad shouldered woman who owned the orphanage. You saw all of the other kids sigh and look away, and you did the opposite. You were older, and this woman was mean, but she didn’t scare you. She was bitter, but that was all she was. “You’re leaving.” 

“In a few minutes,” you added, and then kept eye contact with her when you put a piece of bacon in your mouth, nearly collapsing at the taste. God, breakfast hadn’t been so good since Susanne left. You felt Lucas tug on your pant leg, his arm reaching under the table. 

“Good.” The woman said, and she gave you a once over. “I imagine that you’d want to work at the dress shop in the village, correct?” 

“That’s my goal.” 

“Hm.” She took a few steps closer. “I heard there’s an opening there, if you want it.” She looked towards the windows. “But you’ll have to make it quick. You’re not the only girl with quick fingers and a needle, you know.”

She wanted you out. You knew that. She never really liked you, and you never cared for her much, either. You came too late for her to get attached to, not even in that oddly placed way that she loved everyone else. “When do you suggest I take my leave?”

“Within the hour,” she answered immediately. “You don’t want to get lost in the dark, you know.” You frowned. It was eight in the morning, there was no way that the sun was going down any time soon. You knew that she just wanted you to leave, and so did everyone else at the table who was older than nine. 

“Okay.” You said, not anywhere near to being in the mood to start an argument with her. That’s not how you wanted Lucas to remember you, at all. So, you kissed his forehead, waved goodbye to all of the other kids, and then got up from your chair. 

The worst part of leaving was finally approaching, close enough to raise its fist and knock on your door. You had seen it happen millions of times it seemed, and yet, you thought that you would be exempt from it. The children were always ushered back to their rooms once another left, and you were sure that it had everything to deal with not wanting them to see what freedom looked like. The warden didn’t want them to witness what it looked like when an orphan got their own wings.

“Wait!” Lucas shouted, and he nearly yanked your arm out of the socket before shoving a little, wooden toy soldier in your hand, the one that he always played with. 

Your heart was warm. It was so warm that you had a hard time forming your next words, your mind so full of adoration for this little boy who had been your living shadow, your source of happiness in a world that had given you none at all, nevermind on a silver platter. You took in a deep breath at seeing one out of two of his favorite toys, the one that he always made you take so that he could play with the other one. The one he was trying to give you had an idle gun with it, and the other had it cocked aimed. Lucas’s one won every time. 

You gave him a sad smile. “No, kiddo, you can keep it.” 

“I have another one.” He rushed out. “Please, take it. That way we can still play when we’re far away.” 

Oh. Oh. If you could have chosen to stay there with him until he grew too old to be there, you would have. You would have a million times over. You knew that he had even the old, bitter woman thinking twice about her decision to throw you out when she made a hmph noise and turned away, her long dress exiting last. 

“Alright. I’ll take it, Lucas.” You ruffled his hair again. “I’m gonna miss you so much.” 

“I’ll miss you, too.” He hugged you tightly, and then you were swarmed by all of the younger kids, who held you all together in the customary send off hug as tears came through your shut eyes. 

“I’m going to miss all of you, you know.” 

“I’ll miss you, too,” you heard back, coming from about twenty different voices that you recognized individually. 

“I’ll miss you. Even that posh accent and the way that you eat and sit,” Julius admitted, and you cracked a smile at him. 

“I don’t have an accent, but, thank you.” You said, and you reached over and flicked his forehead. “You guys are all amazing, and don’t you ever not think that for a second. You deserve the best, and one day, you’ll get that for yourselves.” 

You looked at all of their faces, and saw them watching you. Despite how much some of the older ones didn’t like you sometimes simply because you were older, they listened to you. “You are the best children anyone could ever ask for, and if people don’t see that, they’re dumb.” 

“We don’t need parents to feel validated,” Sophie nodded. 

“Precisely!” You said, and then you cleared your throat when you saw some of them look at you strangely. “Exactly. Now, you guys remember that, okay?” They nodded their heads, and you pulled your back tighter. “Alright. I’ll miss you.” 

You watched them be ushered into their rooms, watching the backs of their heads disappear, even hearing a few sniffles. You clenched your jaw and cleared your throat, shaking your head clear of any worries or trace of sadness, and then you walked up to the door. 

No one would accompany you out there. No one was going to be able to tell you which way to go, not metaphorically or even directions wise. There wasn’t going to be anyone like Sophia, who had clued you in on your past so kindly before. No one was going to be beside you, and you were going to miss it, no matter how nagging everyone was. 

  You took in a deep breath as you felt the chill of the door on your hand, and you wrapped yourself in the blanket that came from your bag. You only regretted for a split second that Lucas had your coat, but then you remembered that he needed it much more than you did. And so, he had it. You opened the door to light snowfall, and immediately once you stepped onto the cold ground, a snowflake fell onto your cheek. 

Slowly, you walked up to the rusted gates that were probably once a brilliant silver, and then you looked back at the rundown place before touching the gate, forgetting all about rust. You took in a second deep breath and closed your eyes, because you knew that once you stepped foot outside of the gates of the orphanage, there was no going back. 

You were an orphan no longer once you stepped away. You were an adult. You were the caretaker, not the one to be cared for. 

You nodded your head to yourself and pushed the door to the gates open, hearing the same sound that you had always heard after breakfast when someone left, but it was much louder up close. You almost jumped at how easy it was to get open, and then you slipped through, shutting it after yourself quickly. You huffed out a breath and saw it fog up in the air, and then you felt tears burn in your eyes. 

You were leaving behind the family that you barely even realized that you had. And you would likely never see them again. And this was all because you wanted to find the family that had tossed you aside like yesterday’s newspaper, like you were someone else’s problem. 

But it wasn’t really to meet them, you knew. It was so that you could see what you had or hadn’t been missing. 

Your feet were moving before you even knew that they were. You looked back and couldn’t even see the orphanage anymore, and you had a strong urge to run in again and say that you regretted leaving, but you couldn’t. So you kept walking. 

§§§

You didn’t have a watch, but you knew that it had been hours since you started walking away from the orphanage. Your hands were getting a tingly feeling in them, and your pants were wet with snow. They weren’t nearly enough for you to be protected, and you really regretted not saving up for some real pants instead of a new sewing kit. 

You hadn’t passed a single road sign during the entire walk. You expected to see something, maybe even a landmark that the bitter woman would talk about, something that would spark a memory even, but you got nothing. You had absolutely no idea where you were, and you were starting to get scared. 

You were definitely in the woods, that was for sure. You were in so deep that turning back was the less intelligent option. You hadn’t heard another voice in hours, or even the sound of horses and carriages. Nothing. Where the hell were you? 

 Your foot caught a tree root that was hidden by a somewhat thick layer of snow, and you went down hard. You grunted when you hit the ground, and you immediately reached out for the ankle that started throbbing. You hissed when you touched it and then threw your head back, nearly starting to cry from being scared out of your mind and frustrated at the same time. 

“Why didn’t they give me a map?” You asked aloud, slamming a hand on the ground before bracing yourself to stand on the very tree that had got the better of you.

You only got three steps before falling over again, the pain in your ankle far too strong for you to go much further. You bit down a cry as you tilted your head up towards the sky, which was getting darker by the minute. 

You were going to die out there. After your first night alone. You were about to die. 

“Um, miss?” You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of another voice, scrambling up even though you felt the pain in your ankle intensify. “You shouldn’t stand on that.” 

When you finally turned around, you were met with a man on a gray horse, who looked just as confused as you. Even from the distance you were at, you could tell that he was handsome. His blue eyes contrasted nicely with his dark hair that was cut short with just the slightest hint of waviness. He tilted his head sideways at you, like he was trying to see something, and then the weirdest of noises escaped his lips, a strangled gasp that startled you even more. “Ale- who are you?”

You turned your head behind you, thinking that his slightly horrified question couldn’t have been directed towards you. “Do you see something?” 

“Who are you?” He repeated, his voice slightly choked yet as sharp as a blade. His horse trotted closer without him even speaking a command. He stopped a few paces in front of you, and you looked up at him directly for the first time and nearly cried. He was huge. And he looked like he could crush you.

  “I- wait, who are you?” If there was one thing the orphanage taught you, it was to not talk to men you didn’t know. It was a way to get hurt or murdered. Everyone knew that. Not even men on horses who could pass for rich knights could be trusted. 

It took a few moments of mutual staring for him to even think about saying anything. “I’m James,” he answered cautiously, like you were the one to be wary of. “And you are?” 

You kept your grimace to yourself. You had two choices; to be friendly with this man and hope that he gave you a bit of shelter for the night without anything in return, or to be rude and possibly save your life, or ruin it all the same. You were leaning towards the first choice. 

It took you a moment to clear the cobwebs of thought from your mind and come up with an answer. When you did, it seemed like he was hanging on edge for your response, like it would make a few things in his life miraculously make sense. “I’m Y/N.” 

 He gave you a look. It was long, curious, and doubting. You thought for a second that he was surely seeing through you, seeing a version of you that you weren’t aware of. He breathed in through his nose, looking you up and down. “How old are you?”

You frowned at the question automatically. “You know, it’s not polite to ask a woman her age.” 

 You could have sworn that his lips tilted upwards before he schooled his features. “Are you camping?” 

“I-”  were you to tell him that you were utterly helpless? Was that the smartest thing to tell a man so big and obviously strong? You wouldn’t stand a chance if he decided to be your worst nightmare, not at all. But something in you knew that he wasn’t anything like that. Something knew. “I’m kind of lost.” 

“Where are you trying to go?”

“I’m trying to find the village, where there’s an opening for a seamstress.” 

  His eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “You’re a seamstress?” 

“I’m trying to be.”

“Have you learned?” He asked, and you looked towards your freezing feet. 

 You should have expected that question. If not from a stranger in the woods, than from a possible employer. You sighed. “No, I never learned. No one taught me.” 

“Then how do you plan on becoming a seamstress?” 

You looked up at him for a second, trying to keep your teeth from chattering as you decided to shed your bag and put it on the ground, opening it up to reveal some shirts and pants that you had made on your own. “I made these myself.” He made a noise. 

 “I thought you said you never learned?” 

“I didn’t,” you said softly, the warmth of the clothes feeling good in your hand. “I never did learn, I just did it one day. And it’s been what I do ever since.” 

 He was still giving you that look, like he was expecting something more, or like you were some type of ghost or hallucination. The staring match took a while, and you were starting to feel the numbness of your ankle wear off. “My friend and I are in need of someone who’s good with a needle.” 

 That wasn’t exactly what you wanted to hear, unless he and his friend owned a sewing shop. Judging by his appearance, it was unlikely that he did. “I should be finding town.” 

“The nearest town is about thirty leagues, and there are no openings for seamstresses—or  any job really—there.” He said. “I can take you to the nearest town, my pal is waiting there for me.” 

 You were thinking far too hard for such an easy question. Thirty leagues was too far for you to clear by yourself before nightfall, and if night fell on you, you were as good as dead. You tried to think about it, but you knew your answer. You were done if you didn’t get on that horse. “I… okay. I think I’ll have to take you up on that, James.” 

  “Do you need help getting on the horse?” He asked, and though you had never even been on a horse before, you shook your head. You weren’t going to let the man grab on your waist and hoist you up. You would fall ten times before that happened, because that was far more embarrassing. 

  “No, thanks.” You were scared. You had never seen a horse so close before, and they were much bigger than you expected. Horses were for the rich, and that was partly why you were riding with this man. If he was needing someone who could sew and had a horse, he would pay you well for something that you enjoyed. It seemed good, in theory. 

You took in a deep breath as you threw yourself up there, expecting fully to slip and land right on your butt, but you didn’t. And he didn’t help you, either. In a movement as fluid as water, you were on the horse, in the exact position that you were supposed to be in. You frowned at yourself, looking down at your legs in muted surprise. 

“I’m shocked you made it,” you heard him rumble, and you nodded. “Most people who ride for the first time can’t do that.” 

You added that to your memory bank, another clue to the screwed up mystery you were playing around with. You watched your sigh come out of your mouth, your breath coming out in smoke because of the cold. “Guess I’ve ridden before.”

*****

this isn’t what i usually write, but man, was this fun. i hope you guys liked this little part! come back if you want, and you’ll meet steve!! i hope you guys liked it, thank you so much for reading this far, y’all have my heart fr

[southsidestory]

I generally try to stay out of discourse, but I have to chime in on this one.

@birkastan2018 is getting dragged for suggesting the most preposterous thing: that more readers should comment instead of being silent consumers. The fact that this is actually controversial is blowing my mind. 

I’ve been writing fic for many years, but only posting regularly since about 2014. I jumped into Naruto fandom just a few months before the manga ended with a (then) canon-compliant longfic. In Times of Peace got WAY more feedback than I ever expected it to, and I was absolutely thrilled.

Because you see, in 2011 I posted a SasuSaku drabble, my first ever fic posted to fanfiction.net! I was so excited to share it… and it got one review. ONE. Now, I realize a 600 word drabble isn’t exactly gonna attract a lot of traffic, and I knew that then too, but it was still horribly discouraging. I figured my writing style must not be a very good fit for the fandom, that no one wanted to read it. I gave up, and went back to working on original projects. I want to be clear, I didn’t stop writing because of my one-review story. I kept writing, both on fanfic and original work, but I stopped posting. 

Eventually I came back, obviously, and the success of ITOP bolstered my confidence. Not everyone was leaving me novel-length, glowing reviews. Many were very short, just a simple “thanks!” or “this was good” and let me tell you, that was so, so much better than nothing. Some were also negative or even cruel, which sucked, but the good comments made up for those. If the first few chapters of ITOP hadn’t gotten at least some response, I might not have finished the story. And if I hadn’t finished ITOP, I probably wouldn’t have continued writing Naruto fic. Well, I would have written it, because when I have a story to tell there’s no stopping me, but I wouldn’t have shared it. (The number of WIPs sitting on my Google Drive gathering dust, unposted, even today, is ridiculous.)

Now, on to the point.

I used to think that asking for feedback made me look desperate. That wanting it made me weak. Because there’s this narrative surrounding writing that says, “You should write for yourself. Writing for others is disingenuous, and it means you’re not dedicated to your craft for the sake of your craft, which is the only reason you should write.” I used to believe that, and to some degree there’s value in that sentiment. If you write purely for feedback, then you might stop when you don’t get it, and that’s horrible, because anyone who wants to write should write.

But mostly, that narrative is bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit. Writing and reading don’t exist in separate spheres. They’re part of a conversation, and when no one gives you feedback, it’s like the author is talking to a wall. Storytelling by its very nature is a communal activity. My strong, sincere belief in this is also why I’m a huge proponent of Death of the Author. What I think my story means isn’t any more important than what my readers think it means. Neither is the One True Meaning. Because stories are multi-faceted, and part of what gives them value is the conversations we have around them.

This is something I especially love about fanfiction. Transformative works build on one another, and fanfic writers learn together, write together, give each other prompts, beta for each other, comment on each other’s work, etc. There are so many stories I never would have told without engaging in fandom, especially with other writers. And isn’t that the whole point of fanfiction? To take a known story and create something new, to jump into the middle of a fictional conversation and say what comes next?

Stories are communicative. We share them, and we talk about them, and the things writers hear from our readers help shape the stories we tell next.

Something a lot of writers feel but don’t often talk about is how lonely a process this is. Yes, I love writing for its own sake. Putting together words and taking them apart, losing myself in my stories. It’s fun, it’s difficult, it’s challenging, it’s thrilling. But it’s also very, very isolating when you have no one to share your stories with. Or worse, you share them only to be met with silence.

I don’t expect all readers to comment on every single fic they click on. I read a lot of fanfic, and I certainly don’t do that. But when something truly moves me, I tell the writer why. When something is just a lot of fun and it brightened my day, I usually tell the writer that too. Some days I don’t have the energy for it, but I try. And let me tell you, the hits to comments ratio on my fics paints a very obvious picture: the vast majority of people are not trying. Hell, even the hits to kudos ratio on Ao3 shows that, and kudos take one second and zero effort to leave.

Fanfiction writers aren’t getting paid for this. We put our blood, sweat, tears, and time into writing for a mostly silent audience. Those of you who do speak up matter more than I can possibly express.

The main reason I’ve returned to writing The Valley of the End after such a long hiatus, apart from just wanting to finish it, is because of the outflow of support it has received over the years. Even without new chapters being posted, people kept leaving me encouraging reviews. It made me feel like TVOTE was a story worth telling, worth hanging onto. When I finally felt the urge to dive back into Naruto fandom, that fic was the first thing I revisited, in part because I knew it was the one people were waiting for.

And you know whose kind, thoughtful feedback on my Naruto fics made me really miss writing SasuSaku? You guessed it: birkastan2018. I likely wouldn’t be back if not for her.

So if you read a fic, and you enjoyed it, and you have thirty seconds to type “Thanks for sharing this story, I really liked it!” please do so. It means more to most writers than we can say. And who knows, your little comment might be the thing that makes a difference in an author leaving and staying in a fandom.

[dreadnought-dear-captain]

Update and a few asks

Hi everyone!

I’ve FINALLY posted an annotated bibliography for Baghdad Waltz. Thanks to those of you who requested and encouraged me to do it. It’s not entirely comprehensive, but I tried to pick the works that were most influential and probably the most helpful for everyone. 

I’m still very steadily cranking away on my newest fic How You Leave, and it’s completely strange to be writing ahead of my posting schedule (though I suppose that’s what happens when you don’t write 32k word chapters). This fic is HARD. But I’m very glad I’m writing it, and I’m so happy to have a small but mighty cohort of readers who are trusting me to take them on this journey. 

So, because How You Leave has been so difficult, I decided to accept an April Fool’s Day challenge from @licketysplittt​, who sent me the picture below and dared me to write a Stucky story based on it:

Needless to say, writing a “fun” one-shot is something of a foreign concept to me, but challenge accepted! The Premise: Yuppie liberal Steve Rogers moves to Daytona Beach, FL from NYC and decides to buy a gun from die-hard libertarian Army vet Bucky Barnes. Shenanigans ensue. Stay tuned!

Now some asks:

Thank you so much for the very kind words. I’ve been flat out horrible about working through BW comments, though I’m trying to get to a few every week (mostly because I’m blessed with so may long, beautiful comments that I want to answer thoughtfully, which does take time). I miss BW Bucky and Steve very much, and I’m so glad when people feel similarly attached to them. I’m also happy that it was a powerful emotional experience for you. I’m still not sure if I’ve fully recovered, lol [sob] 

It’s funny you say this, because one of the reasons I’ve had such a hard time coming back to the annotated bibliography is that there’s a visceral *UGH* I feel whenever I see anything about BW. I think diving into a new story so fast was my way of avoiding some of the emotional processing I needed to do (fortunately, there’s plenty of space there for me to feel sads). Because yes, BW is sad. But I’m happy that the story and the ending felt realistic to you. I also like the idea that they do the work they need to do to heal, not only from their trauma/grief but also from the damage this relationship has caused them. I think of it as a reset button, a process that could allow them to come back together in another way at another time and be really damn good with each other, whatever form their relationship takes. I’m just such a fundamental optimist that I can’t really see it cynically. I don’t even know how these people would not be in each other’s lives, somehow. Some way. Thank you so much for the kind words!

Thanks for asking these!

You mean a straight-up happy ending, like ride off into the uncomplicated sunset happy? I’ll never say never, but probably not. Those aren’t the stories I like to read, and they’re not the ones I want to tell. I just can’t do it, because I can’t buy into it. I appreciate an ending that has happy elements and some undertones of loss or uncertainty, which is so much more consistent with real life. I think this is based on the fact that I come to fandom not for escapism but for raw and honest storytelling. This means that I’m more often than not barking up the wrong tree, because so many people come to fandom because life is a little too raw and honest and they want a place with the endings people don’t get often in the real world. I totally respect that and think fandom is a great place for this. But to illustrate this difference, one of my most aversive fic experiences would be to read something that’s high angst, high stakes, high emotion and then... they get married and live happily ever after. I know a lot of people are the exact opposite! But fortunately, there is literally something for everyone in a fandom as vast as Stucky.

As for publishing BW, yeah, after I finish How You Leave, I’m going to start pivoting seriously to original work in traditional publishing. So I’m not sure how much more time I’ll have to devote to fandom writing after that, though I imagine I may push out one-shots or brief multi-part fics if there’s something I’m just dying to do. The problem is that, in order to publish something like BW, I need higher word count than any agent or publisher would give to a first time writer. So I need to try to get something shorter published so that I can establish a track record of marketability, which may increase my chances of publishing BW in a form I’d be pleased with. These are all wildly improbable things, so I’m pushing forward with few expectations that’ll I succeed in getting anything published. At least I like my day job lol! But I did say I was an optimist, so I’m going to give it my best shot. 

For those of you following How You Leave, I’ll have another chapter out today or tomorrow. I hope you’re all doing well!

[pulledpurplecurtains]

all the odd ones for the fic questions pls and thank you pepster

all the odd ones, meaning 1, 3 etc right? oh BOY are we gonna be here for a while (and i love it 🥰)

it’s morning right now so let’s see how long throughout the day this is gonna take me sdfghjk let’s do it!!

1) what was the first fandom you got involved in?

hmmmm. i wanna say harry potter, more than a decade ago? specifically dramione and scorose

3) what is the best fandom you’ve been involved in?

for all that it has given me i have to say bechloe

5) which fandoms have you written fanfiction for?

so far just for bechloe

7) list your NoTPs from each fandom you’ve been in

i’m only gonna list pairs i have strong feelings against and from only the fandoms i’ve been most involved in

harry potter: snape and hermione

frozen: elsa and hans (no but for real. why)

pitch perfect: beca and jessie, chloe and chicago

marvel: hm hm surprisingly nothing comes to mind

the haunting of bly manor: same as for marvel

9) what are the best things about your current fandom?

having a space where i can fully be myself, expressing myself freely through my writing, meeting so many wonderful people, having a previously unexplored side of myself revealed to me, finding and delving into characters that make me feel less alone, and so much more. it’s been a real blessing, having this fandom in my life

11) who is your current OTP?

bechloe

(this was the point where tumblr lost me ALL MY ANSWERS FROM QUESTIONS 13 TO 33 so let’s do this again SHALL WE??? i’ll be saving each answer as we go dear god)

13) any NoTPs?

already answered!

15) is there an obscure ship which you love?

hmm i don’t think so? none that comes to mind at least

17) who was your first OTP and are they still your favorite?

my first OTP, before i even knew what an OTP was, was scorpius and rose from harry potter. it’s not still on top of my OTP list, but always has a special place in my heart

19) is there a ship which you wished you could get behind, but you just don’t feel them?

not really? i mean, there are popular ships that i don’t support, like hermione with bellatrix or natasha with wanda for example. i can see their appeal and i get why people like them. they’re just not for me and i’m okay with that

21) what was the first fanfic you ever wrote?

ah my accidental multi chap baby sdfghjkdfg

All is Fair in Love and War was posted as an one shot, and that was all it was supposed to be. it was my first finished written piece. and then a couple of people in the comments were really nice abt sharing thoughts of where the story could go next and what they’d like to see happen, and they were very enthusiastic abt wanting to see more of that story. so the second chapter was born

sooo one thing led to the other and before i knew it that fic had become an 8 chapter, over 60k words story sdfghjkdf i’m amused and grateful to this day

23) name a fic you’ve written that you’re especially fond of and explain why you like it

how can you ask a mother to pick her favorite of her kids HUH

no but for real, i love all of my stories equally. i’m a perfectionist, so nothing gets posted before it’s perfect in my eyes. plus, all my stories are my babies. each has its flaws and imperfections, each in their own ways. but they’re all beautiful and meaningful to me

what i will say is, i have a particular soft spot for (wondering if you knew) i was enchanted to meet you. i truly think my writing peaked in that story, in all the parallels and tiny but very important things that are in there

25) what’s your most popular fanfic?

based on views and kudos, it’s All is fair in Love and War

ofc that’s a multi chap, so maybe the numbers aren’t exactly equivalent to popularity

my most popular one shot, by a very large margin at that, is (i’ll let you in) and baby, that’s when

27) what do you hate more: coming up with titles or writing summaries?

i honestly love coming up with titles

writing summaries, on the other hand, is the bane of my existence

29) do you have a beta reader? why/why not?

i don’t, and it’s bc i’m literally incapable of taking any kind of critique over anything unfinished. once it’s posted and out in the world it’s fair game; but until then? that’s a big no for me

31) what’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about your writing?

i honestly can’t answer this question bc every comment is so so special and important to me. i often go back and read them all. even right now while writing this there are so many different comments swirling around in my head. i appreciate and am grateful for all the kind words always 💜

33) do you write one shots, multi chapters, or huge epics?

sdfghjkk definitely not huge epics

i’ve written both of the other two. in the beginning i preferred and wanted to write multi chapters. however nowadays and for the past year or so, i lean more heavily towards one shots

35) do you write drabbles? if so, what do you normally write them about?

i am physically and mentally incapable of writing short things sdfghjkd so no, i don’t write drabbles

37) first person or third person? what do you write in and why?

always third person. idk the idea of first person narration always seemed weird to me. plus, i see my stories as me retelling the events the characters have confided in me. so third person makes sense and it’s also why i use past tense in my stories

39) what is your greatest strength as a writer?

describing and narrating emotions and using metaphors

41) list and link to five fanfics you’re currently reading

my reader’s block has been going strong, so i’m not reading anything currently unfortunately

43) is there anyone in your fandom who really inspires you?

my squirrels 💜

45) what is your all time favorite fanfic?

i have to say Experimentation i just have to

i also love Perdition, what an incredible piece of writing

47) ao3, ff.net or tumblr - where do you prefer to post and why?

definitely ao3, i just love its interface i guess?

49) do you care if people comment on/ reblog your writing? why/why not?

okay so here’s the deal. ofc i care. every artist who shares their work, every creator, cares; at least to a degree. it’s why we share. we want people to see and love and appreciate our work, we want it recognised and celebrated even. we want people to engage with it, show it to their friends, talk abt it, have thoughts abt it. it’s only natural and ofc i’m absolutely no exception

with that said. i’ve always tried to remind myself that kudos/likes are also engagement. that even just reading is engagement. that everyone’s limit or ability for engagement isn’t the same, and that ultimately it’s their choice how or if they’ll engage with my writing. i try to, and i do, value everyone who even just reads my stories. i share something with the world for free and it’s my choice to do and continue to do so. what happens after that isn’t up to me

so yes i do care a lot abt reblogs and comments. they make me very happy, they validate and encourage me. but people have no obligation, in my eyes at least, to engage with my works a specific way. just like i have no specific obligation to provide a certain type of content on set periods of time or with a set limit of words or to continue to provide stories; or literally any other obligation. no one can police my actions and choices up until i’ve posted a story and i can’t police anyone’s actions or choices after i’ve posted it. and that’s the beauty of fandom for me - we’re all here bc we want to and bc it makes us happy, with no expectations or obligations

ending this with an essay seems only suitable sdfghjkd thank you my egg for giving me the opportunity to talk abt myself in such length 😌💜

[kneesntoess]

AO3 Year in Review 

This year, despite being awful in so many ways, has been the first time I’ve been able to write and enjoy writing in half a decade. I can’t thank TMA in general and the Writer’s Discord specifically enough for the inspiration and the cheerleads and the help. 

Format taken from @athina-blaine

Top Fandom: The Magnus Archives (5 fics)

First Fic Posted: January 24th, loves sweet sounds (570 words)

Top Multi-Chapter Fic: None, technically, although I wrote the majority of RQBB intending for there to be chapters, but in the end it didn’t work out. 

Top One-Shot: the sea and it’s waters, every unwanted daughter, (4764 words)  little fic means the world to me, and I’m so glad that other people felt it resounded with them, especially when it’s main character and POV is an original character 

Fic You’re Most Proud Of: weave the dull world around us, (25,122 words). Written for this years RQBB, and my first ever large scale fandom event. I almost but the sea and it’s waters here again, and I think it’s my most technically accomplished and polished work, but I am most proud of RQBB because there were several times I thought I would never finish it and it is, officially, the longest thing I have ever written. And I think I pulled off a lot of the intended elements really well. 

Fic You Wish Got More Attention: I honestly don’t know! Everything I wrote this year got far more attention than I would have ever imagined. I will say that posting as part of an event as big as RQBB was a little disheartening at first, since there was just so much content for people to get through. But since then weave the dull world around us has become, like, my third most popular fic of all time and I can’t really complain about that 

Fic That Challenged You The Most: I’m beginning to sense a theme here... every sea and weave the dull world were equally challenging in different ways. every sea was my first real exercise in trying to maintain a consistent themeing and visual language, in making Sarah believable and likeable, and in translating TMA into an outsider POV. While also working with some heavy and deeply personal experiences. I ended up with a dozen revisions of every part and at least three complete structural rewrites, and the only reason I didn’t do more was the imminent premier of S5. weave the dull world, on the other hand, was a challenge of scale, motivation and deadlines. As well as working out the best way to incorporate all the research I had done. And then keeping it all (mostly) secret until reveals

Favourite Quote/Passage: from every sea and its waters, every unwanted daughter 

(cw for brief mentions of murder, violence against women, the witch trials, hanging, child loss, blood and injury) 

If sufficiently bribed with attention and top-shelf alcohol, Bry would tell stories about howling on the wind on full moons; blood spots in the fields and drag marks on the path, mutilated lambs. Her peers told stories about tormented screaming, dark shapes silhouetted against the curtains, and that Billy Young had dared to touch the door on Halloween night and been brutally murdered for the trouble, that the pretty climbing roses grew so red from between his ribs.

But there were older stories, too, older than red roses and police sirens and school yard dares. Lonely lost women in white, searching always for something precious they had lost. Crooked old hags, cursed into hideousness and banished, condemned to eat frogs and lizards and children’s hearts. A neat line of six souls, bags over their heads, swinging. Buried where they fell, discarded on unconsecrated ground, to salt the soil with blood and venom and rot, until all who lived in the house built there turned black and putrid, too. It was not the blood of boys that fed the red, red roses and turned their thorns so sharp.  

It was always women, in the older tales. Lost women, lonely women, strange women. Who spoke too much or not enough, who could do things other people couldn’t, who did things other people couldn’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t.  Who dared to love something beyond the confines of the village, beyond the limits of their own hearts

It’s not scary, the cottage. It’s sad .

Total Word Count: 32,762

I can’t believe I wrote that much. I had to check the math a couple of times to be sure, but I did that! I couldn’t have done it without a boatload of support from everyone at the Writer’s Discord and for some really lovely friends who’ve listened to me wail about it all. A special thank you has to go to @evanescentjasmine for their help, encouragement and company. 

Happy 2021, y’all! 

[kayr0ss]

Spectacles

[LWA, Diakko, they’re getting old so Diana needs glasses, Akko will never let it be easy, crushes, cute feelings realization, relaxed town day]

Diana’s sudden need for spectacles brings clarity to more than just one aspect of her life.

-----

“You’re squinting again.”

Diana blinked at the feeling of being poked on the forehead and looked up to find Akko all up in her face. This was nothing new, but the proximity—which was welcome on most days—seemed to catch her off-guard and defensive.

“I’m just checking a message.”

“And having a hard time doing it.” The brunette finally pulled back, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at Diana. “Your phone font is laughably large, and you’re holding it out a mile away. I’ve seen that before.” Her attempt at seriousness gave way to giggles, “my mother does it.”

The blonde witch found herself blinking, unable to respond as swiftly as she was accustomed to. Something was eating away at her attention, keeping her from moving to the next thought. Was it the chatter coming through the window from Luna Nova’s courtyard? The smell of Lotte’s apple pie from the table beside theirs?

“Your mother? What do you—”

“Nothing,” Akko chortled, “come on.”

“I have texts to finish decoding,” Diana started apologetically.

“Not with eyesight like that you don’t!” Akko held a stern finger up.

She blinked again, enraptured as she watched the brunette’s endless reservoir of determination focus into a single goal for this overcast afternoon:

“We’re getting you glasses!”

---

“I thought we were procuring spectacles?”

“Nis is pwart of da proshesh,” Akko replied with indignation, chewing through a hefty bite off a cheeseburger.

“The process,” Diana replied with a smile, “starts with a burger?”

“Everythwing stagrst wid a burg—”

“Chew first. Talk later.”

With an eyeroll that could put Sucy to shame, Akko sputtered a muffled ‘yes, mom’. The sight of it made Diana’s lips curl ever so slightly upward, then she blinked, dropping her gaze down to her cup of coffee upon realizing it must have been rude to stare at her counterpart while she ate. Akko devoured the burger with such vigor that it didn’t take long before the sound of chewing was replaced with words.

“Have you ever had a crush?”

Diana paused, caught off guard by the question. She realized, with great incredulity, that—“I… think I’ve never had one.”

“You’re shitting me.” Akko’s jaw dropped. She leaned forward on instinct when Diana whipped out napkin, comfortable while the blonde wiped away a smudge of burger dressing along her chin. “You are literally nineteen years old.”

Diana neatly folded the soiled napkin away. “It isn’t exactly something you have time for, when, you know.”

“The weight of a thousand expectations settles on your shoulders?” Akko playfully stuck out her tongue, but the sentiment hit right home even if she was kidding.

“Worded quite precisely,” Diana admitted. “Of course, there were many expectations that Andrew and I would eventually come into an arrangement but—oh dear!”

Akko had nearly choked on her soda. “Sorry!” she squealed, wiping herself down before the sugary drink dried into something sticky.

“I just—pfft!—I’d have paid to see how that panned out.”

--

The plan was simple: make a trip to the optometrist on this free afternoon. Of course, Akko made no mention of what felt like a million stops between Luna Nova and the elusive optical clinic, but Diana was foolish to think for a minute that it was going to go smoothly. Not that she minded the brunette’s company, she simply preferred it when things stayed…

“Diana! There are street musicians!”

…on schedule.

She should have refused. Really, she should have. In fact, she realized that Akko had swayed her into getting dessert, taking the longer road (“Let’s take the scenic route!”), going into a shop to look through dresses, and purchasing several vials of questionable ingredients for Sucy. She supposed another few minutes of distraction wouldn’t hurt—the music was pleasant in itself anyway.

It was a love song, one that Akko seemed familiar enough with to hum along to. The lyrics were as sweet as honey—and if she was going to be honest, a little too enamored for her liking. “Curious,” she found herself mumbling.

A crush. She’d never given much thought to such a frivolous and wholly unnecessary concept before. Of course, romance she was familiar with—many an evening was filled with Barbara’s NightFall dissections and commentary. But romance was grand, with so much finality and depth. The lovers in the stories books she’s read seemed to be so fully consumed by their emotions that it began to pain them as well. Whereas a crush… was it the fluttering of the stomach? A giggle one grows fond of? The feeling of—

“Ding dong?”

—slight exasperation but tenderness despite it all?

Akko made a doorbell out of Diana’s cheek, and with a tick of the eyebrow the blonde gently moved the offending finger away, “I’d really appreciate it if you stopped doing that.”

“You were totally spacing out!” Akko teased with a grin, unfazed by the rejection. Her hand slipped easily into Diana’s, and just before she could pull them towards the cotton candy cart, Diana set her foot down.

“No more detours,” she declared with firmness. “Glasses.”

“Mou, Diana!”

“Come on,” this time it was Diana who tugged at Akko’s arm. “Before it gets dark.”

--

Akko happily nipped at her puffy, pink cloud of sugar. It was hopeless; when Akko set her mind to it, she found that she couldn’t ever really say no.

“Hey, Diana?”

They were finally walking towards the optical clinic, much to the relief of Diana’s tired feet. “Yes?”

“You were thinking about crushes earlier, weren’t you?”

The blonde witch felt her ears go red, “I—Well…”

“You were mumbling out loud,” Akko nudged her shoulder. She giggled a little, “it was kind of funny. Such a literary perspective. I thought you were going to write an essay critiquing the notable differences between classical romance and modern-day infatuation.”

“Infatuation…” Diana trailed off. “Is that what a crush is?”

Akko just shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe? I think crush is a little more… wholesome? I guess.”

“Go on?”

“Like… you like being around the person.” Akko flailed her free arm around, trying to make gestures she couldn’t quite figure out like that crazy divination professor when trying to read tea leaves. “Hanging out with them never feels tiring, and little things makes your stomach get all weird and like—”

“Like…?” Diana blinked. Akko froze and in a mixture of concentration and… panic?

“Ahh, this is impossible! You blush and feel warm inside and stuff! There are butterflies which make you feel like they’re throwing a violent party in your stomach.”

Diana stopped walking to give Akko a blank, expectant look.

“What!”

Diana tried to fight it, but her pressed lips curled into a smile and then she broke into giggles. The giggles grew into chuckles.

Then she laughed. A full, hearty sound that Akko couldn’t help but smile at.

“That doesn’t sound pleasant at all!”

--

The sudden clarity of the world made her dizzy. The blonde witch blinked—were corners really that sharp? She could read! She could read the text from across the room, and her phone font was suddenly offensively large.

Akko was studying her with such scrutiny that she wanted to hide away.

“How do they look?”

The brunette huffed and crossed her arms. “Frustratingly good on you!”

Diana blinked, unsure how to respond to such a direct compliment and rubbed the back of her neck. “Th—thank you?”

“Well are you comfortable?” Akko inched in closer to inspect the wiry spectacles. “They don’t pinch at the nose or anything?”

Diana is a little disoriented by the sudden change in her vision and all of Akko’s movements but there were so many details she’s never seen before.

“Freckles,” she suddenly blurted out.

“Eh?” Akko inched back.

“You… you have freckles.”

…and long lashes which curled naturally upward, and a little button nose, and eyes in a clear vibrant red. Akko’s eyebrow shot up and she blinked a few times before smiling.

“That’s your first observation?”

The second observation was that Akko had a blindingly radiant smile. But I knew that already. It was framed by a slight blush that had always been there, but she never really noticed before.

“Uhm… Diana?” Akko takes her hand to capture her attention. “You don’t have to keep wearing them all the time yet. You take them off and break them in a little at a time.”

Akko’s words fell into obscurity. Diana’s gaze moved towards where Akko’s hand met hers.

There were… butterflies in her stomach?

“Diana? Are you okay?

She could feel blood rushing up to her face as quickly as the realization was setting in. Akko was looking straight into her eyes with concern, and when the brunette’s palm came into contact with her cheek everything turned crystal clear.

‘Have you ever had a crush?’

“I…”

She had never had trouble with vocabulary before, but—

“Stomach. Insects. Violent party.”

--

A/N: Hey guys! I’ve missed ya’ll! Sorry, still rusty as usual, but I keep trying to come back and write anyway. Is Diakko and LWA still alive these days?

Times have a been tough since I started working (around the end of my Diakko writing spree days, I think?) I guess. I hope everyone is doing well. I’ve recently gotten into Haikyuu! and absolutely adore everyone ++ you can expect some Kiyoyachi fics sometime soon, maybe? Also found the time to watch She-Ra and I love it so far!

Inching my way through so that I can post an update to my multi-chapters, so to everyone who have reviewed recently and still encourage me to continue - thank you so much. You guys are the best! I’m still hanging on as well. I’ve gone into graduate school on top of work, so things are crazy, but somehow I manage. See you soon. :)

PS - I don’t think I was able to proofread this well enough so I am sorry luvyu

[imlaxdris71]

The Price of Blood

It’s finally here! I’m so incredibly excited to drop the first chapter of my Once Upon a Time/Shadowhunters AU fic for @cssns​ this year. Thank you so much to @ultraluckycatnd​ for being my beta and being patient with me and my inability to stay in one tense while I write. Thank you to @kmomof4​ for her beautiful artwork for this fic. And thank you to everyone from the discord chat that encouraged this idea. So here is my first chapter of The Price of Blood, please let me know what you think! You can find it on ao3 too! First chapter is under the cut.

What’s Past is Prologue

Killian storms down the steps of the Institute in a fury. Once again, Aldertree has benched him and he was taken off the murder of the Werewolf girl, citing that he was too close to the case and was needed to help train the younger kids.

Too close his arse; the only reason they pulled him off was because he pointed out that the scene showed no sign of it being a Werewolf-on-Werewolf attack, but rather that it seemed more like the work of a rogue Shadowhunter. Aldertree had taken great pleasure in reminding him that just because his old fling was killed by a rogue Shadowhunter didn’t mean that every dead Werewolf girl was killed like that. Liam had had to hold him back from decking Aldertree across his smug face for that comment.

If Aldertree won’t actually investigate the poor girl’s murder, he will. But that means asking questions in such a way that he doesn’t rile up the Downworlders so the news makes it back to Aldertree. With the recent surge of Downworlder deaths, however, asking questions without stepping on toes is going to be difficult.

Although , Killian thinks, the best way to get information is to spend time among the Downworlders and try and overhear something . With that thought in mind, Killian heads to Swan’s Spirits , hoping to multi-task and get his mind off the images of Milah’s body flashing through his mind while finding out who exactly murdered the young Werewolf.

Stepping into the bar, Killian feels some of the tension leave his body. Despite being raised a Shadowhunter, he often felt more at home amongst his mother’s people. And Swan’s Spirits was known for being a bit more friendly to all members of the Shadow World, unlike the Vampire bar Plasma or the Werewolf restaurant Bisclavret . Killian slips onto one of the stools near the bar and waits for the blonde Faerie, Ashla, working behind the bar to come take his order. When Ashla notices him, her eyes widen and she darts over to take his order.

“What are you doing here, Jones?” she hisses at him. Killian raises an eyebrow at her tone. While certainly not the best of friends, he has worked with Ashla enough for her animosity to be surprising. She must see this in his face because she sighs. “The wolves are fired up tonight and some of them are out for blood. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that that poor girl was the victim of a rogue and the Shadowhunters brushing it off as Downworld-on-Downworld violence has brought out the worst.” Killian grits his teeth in anger, jerking his head in a short nod.

“Aye, I know. That’s why I’m here. Aldertree benched me from the case by pointing that very fact out. I’m here to see if I can find out who the actual murderer was.” Ashla softens a bit more, nodding in appreciation.

“Well, I know that she was a member of the Misthaven pack, and that whoever killed her has to be particularly devious.” That roused Killian’s interest. He had already figured that the poor child had been a member of the Misthaven pack, but that last tidbit sounds interesting.

“Oh? How do you figure that?” Ashla glances around the bar for a second before leaning forward.

“Snow has been cracking down hard on her pack, instigating a curfew and a rule that no one travels alone. And the pups are always supposed to have at least two adult pack members watching them. So, whoever this was had to somehow lure her away from the protection of the pack.” Killian frowns at this information. What on earth would convince a 13-year-old girl that it was safe to leave the safety of the pack when it’s clear that the Alpha had explained the danger? Werewolves didn’t disobey the Alpha for any old reason. Before he can question Ashla further, however, a strong hand clamps down on his shoulder.

“And what do we have here? An angel all by his lonesome? Just come back from murdering more little girls?” A low voice laced with the strong smell of liquor growls in his ear. Killian closes his eyes. Shit . This was going to get ugly fast. Ashla opened her mouth, maybe to defend him, maybe to institute the bar policy that everyone was welcome, no matter what species, but the voice continues before she could interject. “We don’t need your kind here, especially not half-blood Fairies that can’t figure out whether they like boys or girls. I know all about your reputation, Jones. You’ll go after anything with two legs. That extend to little girls now, too? Get your rocks off on killing them? Huh?” Killian snarls in anger, whirling around to shove the wolf off of him.

“Go chase your own tail, why don’t you? I’m no murderer. And find a better damn insult than half-blood, you mangy mutt.” Killian barely finishes his sentence before a meaty paw is flying at his face. He barely managed to duck the fist, but before he could recover, the wolf’s left hook catches him square across the jaw.

Plain explodes in Killian’s face and he has to grit his teeth and blink the stars from his eyes, already dropping down to get out of the way of more fists. Backing away from the wolf, Killian sees two other Werewolves backing the ringleader, all three looking very eager to spill his blood. Killian reaches for his stele, but before he can snag it to activate his runes, the angry ringleader leaps the distance between the two of them, shedding his human skin along the way and landing an agonizing slash across Killian’s abdomen. Killian punched the wolf in the nose, throwing him off, but before he could stand back up, the two other wolves have closed the distance and decide that stomping their heavy boots down on his face and ribs would be an effective method of keeping him down. Killian finally manages to grab one of their boots and uses it to upend the wolf, sending him sprawling into the other one, knocking them both back.

Killian groaned as he got to his feet, reaching again for his stele, hoping to activate his iratze rune so that he could at least begin to heal, when he hears that low growl again. By the Angel, could he not get a break tonight?! Killian turns carefully, keeping one eye on the two downed wolves and the other on the gray wolf that was clearly ready to pounce and rend him limb from limb. But just as the wolf leaps, he froze in midair.

Killian’s eyes dart around, trying to find the Warlock that had just wonderfully aided him from being ripped apart. His eyes widen when they settled on the woman emerging from the crowd, one hand held up to hold the wolf in place. She is gorgeous with shining, golden hair and ridiculously green eyes. She’s clearly dressed for the comfortable atmosphere of the club in a simple white sweater and jeans, but the clothes didn’t hide the white, almost tiger-like stripes that marked her as a demon-blooded Warlock.

“Are you quite done, Leroy?” she asks the gray wolf shortly. Killian is shocked when the wolf actually looked abashed, as did the other two who had accompanied the ringleader. The woman lowers the wolf to the ground, releasing the spell. “I don’t stand for people causing trouble in my bar, is that understood Leroy? I think you, Walter, and Tom should head back to your pack and sober up.” The woman’s voice makes it clear it was not a suggestion. Tom, one of the unshifted Werewolves opens his mouth, outrage clear, but snaps it shut when the Warlock sends an unamused glare his way.

Leroy snarls lowly at Killian before turning around to leave the bar, with one of the wolves muttering a last parting shot. “Good luck, half-blood. She’s going to rip you apart worse than us.” Killian shifts, feeling slightly uneasy before turning his eyes back to the woman who apparently owned the bar. He opens his mouth to thank her for helping him, but closes it just as quickly when she sends that same unamused glare his way.

“Come with me.” It was very clearly an order, so Killian nods and limps his way after her, feeling with sudden alacrity every bruise, broken rib, and cut that adorned his body, his stomach hurting the worst where the wolf had slashed him. Once they were ensconced in the woman’s office, Killian faces her once again, intent on thanking her and apologizing for causing trouble.

“I’m sorry for disrupting your bar, but thank you for your help.” The woman snorts at him, narrowing her eyes.

“I did not do it for you, little nephilim. I did it because your kind are already murdering us; we don’t need a reason for a sanctioned hit.” Killian opens his mouth to protest, not doubting that Aldertree would take any reason to bring the Accords down on the Downworlders, but that he would rat them out, but the woman cuts him off first. “You made a very unwise decision to come here tonight, especially considering what happened last night.” Killian jumps on that opening.

“That’s why I’m here. The girl, she was killed by a rogue, but Aldertree kicked me off the case to declare it a case of Werewolf-on-Werewolf crime. But I want to find the real murderer.” The woman narrows her green gaze further. Surely that color can’t be natural, another mark perhaps? Killian shakes his head, trying to dislodge the distracting thoughts.

“Why would you care about whether or not the true murderer is found? What could you possibly hope to gain by going against your precious Clave to discover a “rogue” Shadowhunter who’s doing the work your Clave wants done anyway?” The bitterness and rage in the woman’s voice is clear, clouding her eyes, and darkening her expression. Killian swallows and grits his teeth, flinching when it makes the wounds on his face flare with pain.

“I am well aware of how unseriously members of the Clave take events like this, but the Law is the Law and Downworlders are protected by the Accords. Whether or not the Clave is willing to turn a blind eye, I am not. Innocents, children or otherwise, being murdered is supposed to be fully investigated, not written off. I refuse to stand by and neglect my duty.” Killian catches a slight flare of surprise, followed by admiration in the woman’s eyes before it is covered up again. Her Warlock stripes pulse slightly.

“It’s not just that, is it? You have a personal stock in this.” Killian sighs at the accusation in the woman’s tone. But, for all his frustration with constantly having his motives questioned, she has several centuries worth of reasons not to trust him.

“My mother is Alycia, a handmaiden to the Faerie Queen. I am well aware of the prejudice that the Clave holds against Downworlders, and the way it treats half-bloods like myself. And-” Here, Killian hesitates. It would be easy to present this woman with the same reason he gives everyone—he’s a half-blood and the Clave only tolerates him and Liam because their father is a member of one of the old-blood Shadowhunter families. But the respect he had seen in the woman’s gaze, her willingness to help him against other Downworlders—he wants to tell her. Tell her about Milah, and seeing her body ravaged, tortured, broken by a rogue Shadowhunter—a Shadowhunter that the Clave never caught because they didn’t try, because Milah was just a Werewolf.

Killian closes his eyes against the rush of memories, struggling to keep his breathing and rage under control. Once he feels moderately under control, Killian opens his eyes again, not entirely unsurprised to find something like concern in the Warlock’s gaze. “And because a rogue Shadowhunter murdered the woman I loved and the Clave did nothing to bring her murderer to justice. I won’t let another case be swept under the rug. I can’t .” Killian knows that the woman can likely see the fury and the anguish that he can’t hide when he speaks about Milah.

“Emma Swan. My name is Emma Swan. I am the High Warlock here. You want justice for the Downworlders being murdered? So do I. But you can do something about it without starting a war. So I’m going to make a deal with you, Shadowhunter. You help me find out who is murdering Downworlders in my city and I’ll keep the other Downworlders off your back.” Killian starts slightly at the woman’s words. She—She’d really be willing to help him? And she isn’t just any Warlock, but the High Warlock. She could get him information that he could never dream of having access to.

“Aye, you’ve got yourself a deal, love. My name is Killian Jones, since we seem to be exchanging names. Although I was rather fond of calling you enchanting Warlock in my head. But, Emma, it suits you.” For the first time, Killian sees something like a smile at the corner of the woman’s lovely mouth as she rolls her eyes at him.

“Alright, loverboy. I’ll get you an audience with Snow and David to see what they know. If you went to them by yourself, they’d never speak with you. But I can get you in.” Killian nods, having already figured that out when they went to ask the Alpha and her mate questions in the first place.

“With your permission, I’d like to speak to Ashla about keeping an ear open at the bar for any other information that might be useful.”

“I thought you looked friendly earlier. Friend of yours? Or an ex-lover? Leroy was right about one thing, you do have quite the reputation.”

“Jealous, love? But no, Ashla is a friend through my mother and another Faerie scout. She has her eye on a human, I believe his name is Sean? But us Fae, we have to stick together, you know.” Emma snorts.

“Get out of here, Shadowhunter. I’ve got a bar to run and after that display, I doubt anyone will talk to you tonight.” Killian nods and turns to leave, but a wrong step sends him to his knees in pain. “Are you alright?” Killian grits his teeth and nods.

“I’m alright, I rather think they knocked the handsome out of me, though.” Suddenly, the pain is chased away by a feeling of warmth and Killian opens his eyes to see Emma kneeling beside him, hands out, white light encasing his body as Emma heals him with her magic. Killian stares at her face, entranced by her eyes and the intense focus there, watching as the stripes on her face seem to shine and pulse with her magic. He barely notices as she finishes healing the wounds inflicted by the Werewolves. Her eyes shift from his body to his face.

“I don’t think anyone’s powerful enough to do that.” Killian blinks before coughing, trying to hide the fact that the tips of his pointed ears are turning red. He can flirt with anyone for hours without getting even the slightest bit flushed, but one compliment from this stunning woman and he’s speechless.

“Right. Well, I should be on my way, I wouldn't want to keep my patrons waiting. Take care of yourself, half-blood.” As she leaves, Killian manages a smile because coming from her, half-blood sounded rather like an endearment instead of a curse.

[senaar-ika]

The Pixie & The Bard: Ch. 1

Hi there. It’s been a while. I honestly just haven’t had the creative energy or motivation to write recently. I moved house and started working more and I’m about to start a new semester of university. What with the world being a flaming trash bin my brain hasn’t quite been up for much. 

Welcome to all the new followers and thank you to everyone who’s stuck around. I’ve had this first chapter of a multi-chaptered fic sitting in my drafts for a while so I thought why not share. I hope you enjoy!

Summary: You’re working as a fairy at a Renaissance Festival in the New York countryside when you meet Charlie and Henry. A father and son who are quite the pair. You flirt with guests at the festival for fun all the time, but something feels different about this one . . . 

CW/Tags: nothing major, just heavy flirting, awkward dad Charlie, literally too much Henry but I promise his relationship to reader is important, also E making up shit about renaissance faires, this is mostly just me longing to dress up like a fairy and go to a festival and watch people joust ok 

Word Count: 2.6k

Chapter 1 - An Chance Encounter

The festival grounds are surrounded on all sides by forest. Trodden down dirt walking paths snake past vendors and performers, ultimately leading visitors to the main events in the center clearing. The Fairy Tree -as it is affectionately known by performers and guests alike- is your territory. The ancient sycamore tree looks like something right from the pages of a storybook with its sprawling roots, knotted trunk, and layers of thick branches. 

Your inner child sprang out on your first day when your manager led you to the tree, explaining that your character should mostly keep in a close radius to it. She didn’t have to tell you twice. You were up the tree and swinging casually from the branches in minutes. Some of the other fairy cast members wander the festival, making mischief and spreading glitter. But you’re perfectly content to hang around your tree. 

Of course you’re safe, never climbing too high or swinging too recklessly. You keep a little wooden flute at one hip and your bag of “fairy dust” at the other. Piping out mysterious tunes from up in the tree only to surprise guests who happened along past. If they have children you often toss a handful of sparkling fairy dust down, relishing their squeals of delight. 

Today is Saturday. First Saturday to be exact. First Saturday is always the busiest, or at least that’s what the returning cast members have been telling you. First Saturday always falls on the first weekend when schools are closed for the summer, so the families turn out in droves. You likely won’t get a real break today; it’s all hands on deck. 

You lean against the trunk of the old fairy tree, one arm hugged as far around it as you can. You’re only about ten feet up, but it feels like you’re part of the forest. A breeze rustles the leaves, bright and green for the start of summer. You close your eyes gently. In the distance you hear a horn sound and a wave of cheers rise up, carried by the breeze. 

Afternoon tournament already? The day has flown by. Cast members don’t get to have any modern technology on hand while performing, so you tend to gauge the time by the schedule of festivities. Afternoon tournament started at two. You’d been up in the tree since lunchtime. The tournaments, which include jousting, sword fighting, and axe throwing, pull the biggest crowds. Meaning smaller attractions got a bit of a break. 

Carefully you slide down to sit, resting your back against the trunk and balancing your legs horizontally along the length of the branch. You breathe in deeply, just listening for the familiar sounds of the tournament. 

“Dad, look!” The whisper-shout of a young boy pulls you away from the quiet, but your first glance at the boy’s father nearly fells you from your perch. Tall, dark, and built like one of the festival’s knights. He’s focused on his phone, typing furiously. The boy tugs at his father’s sleeve, trying very hard not to look away from you, as if he’s afraid you might disappear.

“What is it, Henry?” It isn’t sharp, just distracted, offhanded, but the bassy richness of the man’s voice sends a flutter to your chest. 

“There’s a lady up in the tree! Look!” You smile down at the boy, Henry, leaning forward a bit so that the iridescence of your wings catches the light, and you wave. The dad glances up briefly from his phone only to do a double take.  

“Hail and well met, gentlemen!” You called, pitching your voice up and putting on your character’s fairy accent. “Ye wouldn’t happen to be lost would ye?” 

Henry is quick to speak up, “My dad is trying to get a good phone signal!” The dad’s face turns a ridiculous shade of pink, his expression sheepish and embarrassed. You giggle, swinging your legs over the side of the branch so they dangle. 

“I dunno what that is, young lad, but perhaps he’d have better luck with a carrier pigeon?” One of the top rules was to always stay in character. No talking about modern life. Immersion is key and after all you’re here to make magic. But Henry seems confused.

“You don’t know what a phone signal is? Don’t you have a phone?” Ah so he’s one of those smart kids. Before you can say anything, Henry’s father cuts in.

“She’s a fairy, Henry, look. Fairies don’t have phones.” The dad explains, gently. His voice is practiced, as though he has to explain a lot to his son. You nod along with him, crossing your ankles and propping your chin on your hand. 

“Aye, he’s right!” You chime in, “And you two look like . . . hmmm.” You scrunch your face in consternation for a moment. “Ah! I know! A knight and his squire?” You point from father to son.

Henry starts to laugh and his father smiles, looking from you to his son and back. 

“Yes! Young squire Henry and the brave knight Sir . . .” You trail off, gesturing towards the boy’s father. 

“Charlie,” He finishes, holding your gaze steadily. You feel your grin widen and you tilt your head, reminding yourself to stay in character. 

It’s not like flirting with guests is discouraged; actually, it’s almost expected of most fairy cast members. You’ve just never been caught off guard like this before. Something about this man, Charlie, sends your heart racing. Perhaps because he seems far too dashing for a dad, or maybe it’s how quickly he is willing to play into the immersion of your job. 

“So the brave knight, Sir Charlie, and young squire Henry find themselves at the Fairy Tree.” You slide yourself over to the trunk and begin climbing down, using the little foot and hand holds nailed into the tree. “Trying to relay a message with no luck?” 

When you reach the ground, Henry bolts over to you. “Why didn’t you just fly down?” 

You crouch down to his height. “Flying for me is like running for you. It’s so exhausting!” 

Henry nods, understanding, and looks back over his shoulder at his dad, still standing a ways back. Charlie smiles at the two of you before glancing back at his phone. 

“My dad is trying to send a picture of me to my mom.” There it is. You feel something in your chest sink a little. You should’ve expected it really. Hot dad and cute kid? There has to be a mom somewhere in the picture. Henry, unaware that his simple statement shook you, continues on. “She lives in LA, but I get to come see my dad every month. He likes to take me to do things like this.” Oh, hot divorcee dad. 

“And what have ye done around the festival today, young lad?” You actually smile as Henry carries on in that childlike way, just talking. Simple statements. Pouring out their day for you. 

The two of you plop down to the forest floor. Henry absentmindedly plays with the grass and pebbles. You pluck a couple of clovers from the grass and begin stringing them together. Usually the fairies are encouraged to tell stories to the children, but this particular child seems happy to tell you the story of his day. Henry is just finishing up recounting how they had eaten turkey legs and french fries for lunch when his dad approaches. 

“I’m surprised to see such an adventurous pair missing the tournament,” You remark, handing Henry the bracelet of clovers you had woven while he was talking. “But I’m glad to hear your stories, young Henry.” 

“There’s a tournament?” Henry’s eyes light up as you slip into your role, telling him all about the lore of the festival.

“Why of course, young Henry! Every sixth day the King holds tournaments where our bravest and strongest knights may show their skill! There’s sword fighting and jousting and horses, and of course all the fair maidens of the kingdom come as well!” You try to avoid looking up at Charlie, squatting down beside his son, for fear of stumbling over your words. “The fairy folk like me perform great songs and dances for the royal court, and all the guests like you cheer and awe at all the talent!”

Henry is hanging on your every word, completely frozen and enraptured in your performance. 

“Unfortunately for you, the tournament for today is probably just finishing up.” Seeing the boy’s face start to sink with disappointment you add, “But! After the tournament the fairy folk will lead a parade back to this very tree and we’ll tell stories! There’s always a bit o’ music with our stories. I play this!” You pull your flute from its slot on your belt and hold it up for Henry, whispering your next sentence. “If you and Sir Charlie aren’t in a rush, I suggest you stick around, the parade should be arriving any minute now.” 

“Can we stay, dad?” Henry turns excitedly towards his father, eyes still wide. Charlie’s face breaks into a full grin that goes all the way to his eyes which crinkle at the corners. A noticeable dimple also appears on his cheek. Stay in character, you have to remind yourself. 

“Of course, honey, if you want to.” Charlie places a hand gently on his son’s back. 

It seems as though Charlie’s about to say something to you, but before he can you’re overtaken by the sound of jingling bells, flutes, and footsteps crunching along the dirt path. 

“The parade!” Henry scrambles to his feet, turning in the direction of the noise. 

You catch Charlie’s gaze as you both move to stand up as well. He mouths a silent “Thank you.” You smile and give him a wink, lifting your flute to your lips. Moving quickly, you dance back to the tree and climb up to hang by one hand from one of the handholds nailed into the trunk. The tune of your flute matches up with the commotion coming up the path. 

At least once a day, a large group arrives at the Fairy Tree led by cast members like yourself. It’s part of the job, performing like that. So why are you so nervous? 

The parade rounds the forest bend, finally coming into sight. Two fairy cast members lead the group, one with a tambourine, the other a pan flute. A dozen or so children are close behind with a couple more fairies mixed in. Bemused parents and adult stragglers make up the rear. 

“Aha!” The performer with the tambourine, halts the parade and points to you. “Kind guests and members of the parade, this is our sister Dewdrop!”

You hop back down to the ground, lowering your flute, and slip into the loose script that formed around storytime each day. “Are we to tell these fine folks a story today, Evergreen?”

And with your line, you settle. This is just your job. You do this every day. Every day there’s a new story. Every day there’s a new crowd. 

You and the other fairies sit the little ones down on “toadstool” seats while the adults gather around. Henry choses the seat closest to where you stand, you notice, so you make sure to give him a smile when you can. Like a good actor, you dance your eyes across the crowd, trying to bounce rather than stick to anyone in particular. But.

But you can’t help but get stuck on Charlie. He’s watching you so intently, occasionally glancing down at Henry as he laughs at all the silly jokes and goofs. Today’s story is one about how the king of the festival was trapped and magicked to dance for eternity by the trickster pixies until a kind hearted fairy saved him. The stories are always a bit silly like that. 

When you and the other fairies take your final bow, all conducting the children in a chorus of “The end!” and tossing handfuls of fairy dust, you make eye contact with Charlie again. Everyone is clapping politely. He’s smiling at you. You hold his gaze for just one second longer. He’s the first to look away, clearing his throat and raising his gaze to the treetops. You barely have time to process what just happened before Henry is tugging at your skirt. 

“You didn’t tell me your name is Dewdrop!” He exclaims, somehow still thriving off of the high energy of the show. 

You giggle, dropping down to his level. “You never asked, young Henry!” 

“That’s a funny name.” He scrunches his nose in such an innocent way you can’t help but smile. 

“Well all the fairies are named a bit differently than you humans.” You explain, “We’re given names that connect us to nature and-” 

“Wait a second!” Henry interrupts and suddenly runs over to his dad. 

They converse softly for a moment, Charlie leaning down so Henry can whisper in his ear. Charlie seems to be thinking hard about whatever his son is saying. He flicks his eyes over to you for what seems like a millisecond, you can’t even be sure he did look at you. Then he nods and Henry scampers back over to you. 

“My dad says we can come back tomorrow! I want to see the fighting and the contests like you said!” Your heart seems to stop for a second before you become very aware of it beating in your ears. 

“That - That’s wonderful, young lad!” You shake yourself back to this fantasy that is reality. “You must stop by the tree and say hello then.” You chance a look over at Charlie to find his eyes locked on you. He smiles and gives a slight nod of his head. 

He steps forward reaching for his son’s hand. “Alright, Henry, let’s get going now and let our friend get back to doing … fairy stuff.” Henry’s face scrunches in a way that your years of working around children tell you he’s not thrilled at the idea of leaving. So you swoop in with a little assist. 

“Sir Charlie’s right, young lad.” You take a pinch of fairy dust from the pouch on your belt, “I’ve got official fairy business to attend to around the festival. But here, I’ll give you a bit of parting sparkle so that you’ll shine until we meet again!” With a flourish, you dust Henry’s flower bracelet with the glittery powder. 

That seems to satisfy the young boy as he gives you a toothy grin and turns to leave with a quick “Bye! See you tomorrow!” 

“Well hang on just a second!” You decide to milk this moment a tiny bit more, just for fun. “That’s no way to leave a proper lady! Give us a bow and a fare thee well!” 

Henry looks confused for a second but Charlie elbow’s him lightly. “Like this,” he whispers. He executes a wonderfully low bow, crying out “Fare thee well, Dewdrop! We shall return on the morrow!” in an over the top sort of faux English accent. 

You laugh, fully, almost definitely out of character. That’s when Charlie looks up from his bow, holding your eyes as he rises back up to his full height. After a second, he clears his throat and elbows at Henry again, muttering “Your turn.”

Henry does his best to imitate his father, but his bow is a bit shaky. “Fare thee well, Dewdrop! We shall . . . Dad what is it?” 

“We shall return on the morrow,” Charlie mumbles, failing to conceal a smile. 

“We shall return tomorrow!” Henry finishes and stands back upright. 

As the two of them finally start down the dirt trail you call after them. “Safe travels, Sir Charlie and Squire Henry! T’was a true pleasure that our paths should cross!” 

“Bye!” Henry yells back. 

Charlie looks over his shoulder at you one more time. You wave. He smiles. And then they turn the corner. And they’re gone. 

[ariannjs]

KARIN | A SasuSaku FanFic (10/10)

(Karin - Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9)

——–

Hey guys! It's been a whiiiiile! I'm so sorry that I'm just uploading this now. To be honest, this epilogue has been finished since last August but idk I felt quite afraid to post it that I totally forgot all about it@.@ Nonetheless, here it isss! Accck I'm shy! HAHA. But here's a late New Year and Valentine's Gift to you all, SS fam!

Thank you for journeying with me as I wrote my very first multi-chaptered SasuSaku fic! I am extremely grateful for all of your encouraging comments on this and all my other works. 2019 has been really difficult but I praise God because this writing journey became highly therapeutic for me that it led me to meeting more SS fans as well! So yeah, Arigatou Gozaimashita!

Alright, I won't hold you back for long, here's the Epilogue of "Karin"! Enjoy!xx

——– 

The only time that Sasuke Uchiha had felt incredibly nervous was back when his father was mentoring him on how to use Katon. Though many years had passed, he could still vividly remember that heart-pounding, stomach-twisting sensation of not knowing if he’d be able to produce an impressive result as his father’s eyes were fixated on him. 

And now, he could feel the same thing with what he was planning to do.

Although they didn’t really have the best father-son relationship, he knew that if Fugaku Uchiha was still alive, he’s the best person who could give him the most logical advice that he needed at the moment, considering that they were, in many ways, similar in terms of their personality. 

That’s why absurdly, he wished his father was here to tell him how to execute his plan in a step-by-step manner like how he passed on to him the Great Fireball Technique.

Sasuke wasn't the kind of person who finds asking questions necessary, a manifestation of the superiority that tended to be his facade even in his most vulnerable state. But if only he could, there were lots of questions that he would like to ask his Otou-san.

How exactly did father ask mother to marry him?

Did he feel as insanely apprehensive as I am right now?

Did mother actually say yes on father’s first attempt to ask?

How many chances does a man have anyway, just in case...just in case the woman says no?

These, and probably a lot more.

With thoughts all over the place, Sasuke fidgeted on the couch as he watched Sakura make funny faces at the giggling Suika on the floor of the Hozuki’s living room. 

She’s still so annoying, he couldn’t help but think. Doesn’t she have the slightest idea about how much he was falling in love with her all the more each day?

Observing Sakura with Suika has been one of his favorite past times ever since the redhead baby was born. It just showed him much of the pureness of her heart towards people, children in particular. And it only solidified his resolve that he has made the right decision – probably the best in his life so far – about spending the rest of his life with his female teammate in his genin squad.

He planned to ask her that special question today, when the opportunity arises. His brain has been trying its best to figure out how to do so ever since he came out of the hospital weeks ago. But being Sasuke Uchiha, there was no grand preparation and sappy romantic gestures despite the ridiculous suggestions of his best friend and the disgusting persuasion of his sensei for him to read his favorite book. All he knew was it was completely fixed in his mind that this woman was the one he wanted to marry.

And today was the day that he’s gonna make Sakura Haruno say yes to being an Uchiha.

So while they were waiting for the Hozuki couple to finish packing their belongings, he was on the alert for any open chance to bring up his question in the same way he has his guard up whenever a possible enemy is lingering around.

“Is something bothering you, Sasuke-kun?”

Tch. Why does she have to know him so well?

He tersely shook his head, eyes on Suika who was curiously staring at him with her tiny hand in her mouth.

“You know I’m always here to listen when you’re ready.” Sakura showed that breathtaking smile of hers that seemed to be reserved just for him. TCH! 

“Oh, you want to go to Uncle Sasuke? Okay! Okay! Stop bouncing!” She then giggled to the kid, leaned to carry her, and then placed her on Sasuke’s lap.

Suika stretched an arm out to reach for his face, and for a moment, it was effective in drawing his gaze away from Sakura. But the head medic moved closer to wipe the side of Suika's mouth with a bib as the baby babbled incoherent words.

For a second, Sasuke's mind went blank, bringing him to a different timeline wherein quite the same scene was happening as if he was in a genjutsu. It was breathtaking. His heart constricted with longing for the surreal image to become a reality, despite it being far-fetched. 

Years ago, he never imagined that he would have the chance of having a family of his own. And yes, even up to now, the idea was still something that his mind wrestled to accept as something that he deserved.

But then, his eyes met Sakura’s once more. And just like all the other times that he has met her gaze, something inside him changed and made him feel like it's just so easy to drop all his hesitations because of her – for her.

“Sakura...I–”

“Wow! I can’t believe it’s our last day.”

Their heads suddenly whipped towards the bedroom door as their redhead friend exited, followed by her husband who had just finished sealing their baggage in a scroll.

Half irked yet half relieved with the interruption, Sasuke sighed as he handed the baby to her frowning mother. It was a good thing that Sakura didn't realize he was about to tell her something important. 

Maybe later, then.

Suigetsu shrugged. "Some things really come to an end, Karin."

“That’s sadly true,” Sakura joined in the conversation, approaching the Hozuki matriarch to pass on the baby's bib. “But the good thing is that every time a season ends, a new one is about to begin.” She smiled at the woman who has become one of her closest friends. 

It was saddening to see their family leave, but she’s just so excited for them to finally reside in a place they could truly call their home. Besides, they deserved it after everything they've been through individually and as a family.

“It’s time to go.” Everyone turned to the Uchiha who was already standing by the door.

So with a toothy grin, Suigetsu placed an arm around his wife’s shoulders before saying, “Let’s go, Karin. I’m excited for you and Suika to see Hidden Mist.”

The walk towards the gates of Konoha seemed like a trip down memory lane. So when they finally reached that familiar arc that welcomes and sends off Konoha's villagers and visitors, Karin wasn't able to stop herself from handing over Suika to her husband and then throwing her arms as tight as she could around Sasuke.

"Karin. How many times should I tell you to get off me, especially because you're a married woman?"

The redhead chuckled at that, amused with how detached he still was – well, except for a certain pink-haired maiden. "My husband wouldn't mind though!"

Sasuke rolled his eyes but found himself glancing at the other woman with them, wondering if she would mind about the situation. However, he only caught her laughing cutely at the ordeal. He couldn't bring himself to scoff.

Pulling away for the Uchiha to be comfortable, Karin sheepishly said, "Thank you so much for everything, Sasuke. I'm so glad that you've found redemption for yourself. No doubt, you'll be able to help more people inside and outside this village. Like us. I will never forget this."

Karin realized that staying in Konoha was the happiest moment of her life so far. And she knew that despite her initial doubts about the idea, everything wouldn’t happen if her husband didn’t force her to join Sasuke in going to this place for her and their baby's safety. Yet she never expected that the decision would be life-changing for all of them.

Suigetsu agreed with a nod. “Sasuke, you've done so much for us. I owe my family’s life to you. I honestly can't thank you enough."

The former leader of Team Taka was stunned at the way his teammates expressed their gratitude to him. He never even thought that there's anything anyone should thank him for. If anything, it was them that he should've thanked for they've shown him a glimpse of what a transformed life and an assured future look like. But as usual, he was not exactly good with words. 

Remembering how they've witnessed the majority of his worst years yet they're still here to stand by him, Sasuke's eyes softened as he gave the couple a simple yet meaningful nod in response.

The pink-haired maiden beside him was smiling the entire time. Sakura didn't know all the details of Sasuke's journey with Taka, but to see him developing such strong bonds even outside of Team 7 was something that she considered a breakthrough. It gave her joy knowing that this scenario was an assurance to Sasuke that he won't ever be alone anymore.

"Before I forget, please bring these pills that would help in keeping you from the cold during your travels," Sakura then handed a small pouch to Karin. "This is helpful especially for Suika since this would be her first exposure to such cold weather."

If Karin was able to stop her tears from falling while talking to Sasuke, she wasn't able to contain it anymore while staring at the pouch given by Sakura. This woman has done so much in bringing out the best in her without her knowing. And so, she also enveloped her in an embrace that's so rare for Karin to give, well, except when it's for her husband and Sasuke.

“Sakura, you’ve saved my life not just once. And then you've shown me the kind of life I never imagined I could still have. Thank you for trusting me and for believing in my potential.” Karin sniffed while Sakura gave her a pat on the back, unable to stop a tear from falling as well. And then the redhead pulled away, instantly wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand with a big smile at her senpai. "I'm not usually like this but—ugh! It's because of the two of you!"

At her loud remark, Sasuke raised an eyebrow while Sakura ended up cackling with a hand on her stomach.

"Whew. At least it's not me this time." Suigetsu snickered too, rocking the baby in his arms that was awakened by the voice of her mother.

Karin almost landed a punch to her husband's liquefiable head, but thanks to Suika's sleepy murmur, she opted to avoid violence to carry the baby again. "Ssh. I'm sorry, kid. Mama's a little different today because of your godmother and godfather." She stuck a tongue out at the two and Sasuke could only snort as Sakura continued to laugh.

"Ha. Sorry, Karin could be crazy at times, or…" The Hozuki patriarch paused and pretended to contemplate. "...actually, most of the time."

"Hey! You're lucky I'm holding your daughter!"

"Kidding, guys. I love that woman nonetheless." 

Sakura and Sasuke didn't fail to see the tinge of maroon on the redhead's cheeks before she turned around to hide it. Uncomfortable with such things, the Uchiha scoffed at the sight of his old teammates. But then, he slightly jerked as something hit his side almost close to his ribs. 

When he shot a sharp glance at the woman beside him, Sakura was just smiling innocently at the Hozuki's. Yet this doctor might need to heal something later, courtesy of her pointed elbow.

Suigetsu noticed the interchange and smirked a little, having high hopes that one day, these two would finally end up like him and his wife. He then grinned. "But really, the two of you have made a difference in our lives. We'll surely remember this and even tell Suika one day. Sasuke, you better visit us in one of Orochimaru's hideouts. And then bring Sakura-san with you."

"As if I'd want to go back there."

Scrunching her nose, Sakura shivered at the prospect of being in the aforementioned place. 

Karin wasn't able to stifle her guffaw as she faced her friends again. "But we don't know, Sasuke, what if you'd eventually need to visit? And that would be nice! I want Suika to meet you both one day!"

"Tch. You'd really want your daughter to grow up in that dumpsite?"

"Oi! You kind of grew up there too!" Suigetsu teased.

Staring blankly, Sasuke fought the urge to burn the couple with his powerful eyes for the sake of their daughter. And then he said, "You better leave now. It's almost dusk."

"Fine then, yes, sir!"

"Take care of your family, Suigetsu."

"Always. And you, take care of Sakura-san!" There was a smirk on Suigetsu's lips as Sasuke remained silent at that. But he knew full well, Sasuke would cross time and dimensions and even give his life just to protect Sakura. This time, his strength would be used not for his own selfish agenda, but for the sake of the people he cared for. Just like what he did for Suigetsu and his family.

"Oh. This is real now, isn't it?"

Sakura reached out and gave Karin's hand a squeeze, looking down on Suika who was now awake after all the commotion with her parents and godparents. A giggle escaped her tiny lips upon seeing Sakura, making Sakura frown a bit as her green eyes met the baby's purple ones. "Yes, it's real now, Karin. But this ain't goodbye. See you soon." She smiled one last time before moving aside, waving a small goodbye as the Hozuki's finally exited the village hidden in the leaves.

Sasuke and Sakura silently remained on their posts as the two figures became smaller from afar.

Until Sakura murmured, "They're such a beautiful family, aren’t they?" Slowly, Sasuke tilted his head to gaze at her. And at that very moment, everything felt right. He took in her beauty as the setting sun made her face glow and the breathing wind made her cherry blossom hair sway in slow motion. It reminded him of those times in his redemption journey that he marvelled at the sight of Cherry Blossom trees because it made him feel like she was beside him, albeit far away.

Now that it became real, he thought of how wonderful it would be to have more peaceful moments like this with her. So as they stood in the place where he first broke her heart, he finally chose to drop all hesitations so he could do what he wanted to accomplish before the day ends, with high hopes that he could also give Sakura a new memory with him in this place. 

"Sakura. Do you...want to have something like that?" The Hozuki's were already out of sight but his first female teammate continued to stare at a distance. "A future family?" She smiled, clutching her hands to her chest as she thought of the only man she'd want to spend the rest of her life with. And then she said in a soft voice, “I've...I've always wanted to." "I want to have that too...with you."

With wide eyes, Sakura turned to Sasuke who was now looking at the path his friends walked on. There was no trace of humor on his face, only an expression that showed solace and expectancy. “S-sas—”

"But Sakura...it is clear as day that you deserve the best. And that’s...that’s not me." Sasuke’s gaze fell to the ground. "I'm not even exactly a good man, so I'm far from being the best for you. There were so many things that I've done that destroyed and hurt so many people, including you and the ones that you care for. So even though I'd...I'd really want a future with you, I don't think you deserve someone whose past is as wicked as mine."

"Sasuke-kun, all those is exactly what you've said – a part of the past. My love for you is not based on what you've done or what you would do. It's simply based on you, Sasuke-kun. Just you. Anything else doesn't matter, as long as...as long as I know that you deeply love me." She paused. "Do you love me?" There was a momentary pause as he looked up at her dazzling eyes. But it wasn’t because he was doubting his answer, for Sasuke has always been sure. 

For a second, he wanted to chuckle at the irony that Sakura Haruno could read words and situations, analyze lab tests and battle strategies, but she couldn’t read and analyze the feelings that Sasuke Uchiha has for her.

It was not her fault that he hadn’t made himself crystal clear yet though. 

So he thought of the best way to vividly convey his answer to her question and firmly address her uncertainties about her standing in his life all this time. 

He then settled in responding through the best and significant way he knows. Smiling a little, he gently tapped her forehead right below the diamond-shaped mark of her strength before saying, "You should know that by now.”

Just like the first time Sasuke did this, Sakura's eyes widened and her lips parted a little as her cheeks became painted with pink. The only difference now was that she stared back at him with recognition, eyes brimming with tears of none other than joy. To know that her love was reciprocated for such a long time already made her feel elated more than ever.

For so many times, she has almost given up in waiting. But it was true all along, being loved back by the man she has always loved was worth the long wait. She regrets nothing for even after everything, it all came down to this. Sasuke looked away as he remembered something. "That time you've been avoiding me because of Karin...it made me realize that I couldn’t stand a life without you." He muttered something like "Never again" and then faced her with his mismatched eyes focusing intently – lovingly – on her green ones. "If you’re willing to make things work together with me...Sakura, marry me." Sakura's tears finally fell upon hearing those last words that she thought she would never hear from this man. She didn't even have to contemplate on what she would answer for she immediately said, "I could never imagine loving and marrying anyone else, Sasuke-kun." 

And then she tapped his forehead in the same way he did with her, making Sasuke's eyes widen and his heart flutter in a way that he never felt before. His lips curved into a smile as he pulled her into a long embrace that surprised even him. But as Sakura melted in his arms as if she had always belonged there, he felt completely relieved that he got the answer he had prayed to receive from her. Maybe this was what Suigetsu had felt when Karin agreed to spend the rest of her life with him as well, he thought.

The satisfied smile on Sakura’s lips after they pulled away made Sasuke’s heart skip a beat. It still felt like he was dreaming, the fact that he was staring at his wife-to-be. “Let’s go home.”

“Yours or mine?”

Sasuke slowly grabbed her hand, after all, he has every right to do so now. “Ours. From now on, you have to be comfortable around the Uchiha compound. I’ll just walk you back to your place tonight.”

As the two of them walked hand in hand back to the village, two pairs of eyes continued to watch them from the nearby trees.

“Heh, Kakashi-sensei, this is a lot better than the last time the three of us were here with Karin, ‘ttebayo!” 

——–

August 2019 | AriannJS

——–

8 chapters. 8 characters. 8 months. It's a wrap! *cries in G#m* This fic is now saying sayonara! But hmm...who knows, I might actually get to finish a one-shot sequel for this. Well, we'll see. ;) Arigatou Gozaimashita, mina-san! I appreciate you all!

- A

[hallie-fics]

author spotlight - smc_27

When they’re grabbing her handcuffs behind her back, pulling her back towards the car, she turns her head and finds Harry’s eyes. He looks scared, and she almost calls him a coward, but knows he’s very well aware that he is one. He just is.She won’t look away from him. He needs to know, too, that he did this. He did this.Maybe the only thing that’s real between them is the fact that he could do something about it and doesn’t. Maybe that’s all there is.

Everything’s Blurry But You @livinginrhythm​

This author is easily one of my favorites for this fandom. Their dialogue and how they write the hallie dynamic is pretty much unparalleled. I always know that a story is going to be good when I see that they wrote it.

q & a

Favorite of your stories (and why)

So far (for this pairing) I really like Words Are Too Hard To Keep On Their Own. Those who know me from other fandoms know I’m an angst-fiend, but for this pairing I’m really drawn to the idea of an easiness between them. I really thought (and think) that AUs are sort of the only way to make that happen without making everyone out of character. I also just love Portland, so it was fun to think about them in that city. I also tend to be really into imagining what characters will be like once they’re through their ‘asshole’ phase.

Easiest story to write

Definitely the NYE story (By The Coast When I Held your Hand). Not only because it’s short, but because I had a pretty clear idea of the beginning and the ending, and filling in the blanks was simple enough. I have a Very Bad Habit of writing incredibly long stories; even my ‘drabbles’ are thousands of words. This one, though, was done in a couple hours. (I have also started a followup to it, so you may see that eventually…)

Hardest story to write

A post-S1 WIP that was literally the second thing I started writing for this pairing! It’s 15k words currently and I’m really struggling to wrap it up. Probably because so much time has passed between when I started it, and now. I’m really hoping to finish it very soon and post it. 

Pre-writing process (if any)

Usually it goes like this: Get an inkling of an idea, or line of dialogue in my head, flail about it to friends. Say that I shouldn’t start a new thing when I have WIPs that could use attention. Start anyway. I’m not a big outliner (though I know that would likely be more productive!). I usually just sit down and start writing and see what happens. 

When I used to write multi-chapter stories, I would never post the first chapter until I was completely done writing the story. This was for a few reasons, the most important of which being that in the beginning, I found the pressure to update and suggestions from readers really threw me off and were sort of demotivating. 

I also read/edit everything twice before posting, and then read again once it’s posted and usually have to go back and fix little things I didn’t catch the first time. I’ve never really used a beta, or anything, though I definitely share WIPs with friends who read them and help encourage me!

Hopes for season 2

Honestly, I have a few different things I’d love to see happen, and I say them all with pretty much no hope they’ll be true to what happens on screen. 

One, I think it would be sooo interesting if S2 showed us an alternate universe in which everything is normal. They never went to New Ham, and are just typical high school students with typical high school drama. I want to see how Harry and Kelly break up, how Allie and Will interact, how/if Sam and Grizz get together. And ultimately, I still want Harry and Allie to hook up, and then to see what happens afterward in a world where nothing is as messed up as New Ham. 

Two, I want there to be a focus on getting Campbell the eff out of the way, by whatever means necessary. I of course want Allie to have a hand in that. I’m really interested to see how they handle her ‘arrest’. (This is, mostly, what prompted me to start my post-S1 fic, and I’ve explored that a lot.) 

Three, Harry Bingham redemption arc! Writers can feel free to slot this into any and all storylines/ideas for S2. 

Favorite line (or lines) that you’ve written for a hallie fic/ a section that you’re really proud of.

I really like this, from you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes: She feels the deep breaths he takes - three in a row, like some kind of coping mechanism. It’s what her mom always used to tell her to do, when she’d be mad at Cassandra for taking all the attention. Even now, she’s got to wonder why she was always the one who had to do something about it, and why Cassandra was never asked to change anything about herself. It’s not the time to think of that. It’s never the time to think of that.

I also love the whole bit in Everything’s Blurry But You when they’re outside alone on the terrace at the wedding and Harry tells her, “Trust me. I know what being in love with you looks like.”

What type of Hallie stories do you like to write/read? (canon divergence, modern au, soulmate au, etc)

Any and all, thank you. As long as it’s well-written, I can get into it.

How long have you been writing for?

I’ve been writing fanfic for over 10 years now.

How has your writing style evolved over time?

I used to write a lot of multi-chapter stories with long, winding plots. Now I stick mostly to oneshots or what ends up being two or three part stories with really long chapters. I also revisit old fic sometimes and cringe; I’ve gotten much more comfortable writing dialogue that feels believable. 

Do you ever worry about how your stories are received?

Who doesn’t!? 

What’s the hardest part of writing for you?

Just...doing it. Finding the time and then also being inspired/focused when the time is available. I also tend to write better late at night, but do require a regular sleep schedule and have a 9-5ish, so staying up super late isn’t the best idea for me!

Do you get writers block and if so how do you deal with it?

Of course - I think everyone does at some point or another. Honestly, I try to be gentle with myself and not force it. I can feel it in my writing when things aren’t flowing as well. The actual stories feel clunky and slow. I also find it helps to read other peoples’ work or watch really good shows/content to get inspired or take a break from trying to make words happen. Sometimes I’ll ask friends for prompts to help me get into a flow, which feels like less pressure than diving back into a WIP.

Favorite Hallie headcanon?

That they had all these little interactions pre-New Ham. We know they weren’t strangers, so I just love to think about the ways they’d interact before. Conversations they may have had, looks they shared, and if I’m being honest, all the times Harry would’ve flirted with Allie. I feel like he would’ve done it just to annoy Cassandra, and I am here for it.

This is definitely one of my favorite author spotlights. I love @livinginrhythm‘s hopes for season two, and I can’t wait for any more potential stories by them! Thanks again for taking the time to answer these questions!