#it did reach 100k words though

[dudewhy3]

august did indeed seep away like a bottle of wine, and my mammoth of a fic is still unfinished

[inhuman-obey-me]

Barbatos and 8 because chaos 😈😈😈 (you guys are my favs congrats of 100k!!!!!)

Barbatos + 8: "Dead Walk" - Redhook

Rewriting the past means living without consequences. What freedom, for a demon to exist this way.

"Did you do something you need to atone for?"

Barbatos chuckles regretfully across the table at you.

"Indeed. Something I can never hope to undo."

He begins to reach over the table as if to take your hand, but he pauses just before his fingers can touch yours and withdraws, seemingly thinking better of it.

"A long time ago, before I came to serve the Young Master, I used to travel through the realms freely. Sometimes even through space and time. I never thought to think twice about the feelings of others I met along the way…nor in how my actions may or may not affect them."

Yes, his life back then — a life without consequences, or so he'd thought. Pop a portal here, twist a timeline there, and it was as though he'd never been there at all. Back then, it was nothing more to him than a trivial use of his power, and who was anyone to tell such a powerful demon not to do as he liked?

Well, you, for one. That's always been something charmingly strange about you — your willingness to throw yourself in harm's way and assert your opinion of how those as powerful as those demon brothers should act, even before you had made your pacts with them.

You tilt your head questioningly at him, waiting for him to continue, and he pulls back to himself, putting on a simple smile to reassure you.

"It was that mindset that led to me making a terrible mistake. One that…ended up having a great effect on the lives of Solomon and the Young Master."

He goes quiet again, remembering the moment he'd realized what he'd done — the desperate tremble in the young prince's voice, the lonely tears in his little eyes as he begged his one rare visitor to stay with him at the castle. He'd been too young to understand that Barbatos himself was the reason he lived that way.

If he were to find out now, of course, Barbatos fears how things would change. Diavolo is too just to allow Barbatos to assign himself this penitence forever, even if he did genuinely take joy in keeping himself by the royal's side. He didn't mind never using his powers without explicit instruction from his master; it had been his own suggestion. And was it so bad to chain himself, really, if he'd placed the shackles upon himself?

He'd tasted enough freedom to come to regret it.

"What kind of effect?" you prod, pulling him back to the present again with a tug on his hands, which he'd apparently placed over yours after all while lost in his thoughts.

He frowns and sits back abruptly. "I am not able to tell you the details of that yet," he snaps, immediately regretting how harsh the words come out. He tries again, more gently, "Forgive me for bringing it up. I didn't mean for the conversation to turn this way. It's rare for me to start talking about myself."

After all, it wouldn't do for the past to come back to haunt him. He'd gotten by this long without his secrets coming out; he didn't intend to start revealing them now.

But then, why had he confessed to you even this much?

"Perhaps a part of me just wanted you to understand a little more about myself."

You blush a little bit, bringing another careful smile to his face.

A part of him — just a small part, one he's suppressed for centuries now — thinks of how nice it would be to affect your feelings, your life. To leave some impression of his existence upon you.

Why else would he want you to understand him?

He feels the temptation to tell you on his tongue, in his teeth.

But, no. He'd decided to bury that old self — nailed the coffin shut on it, and wouldn't let it rise again. So that the consequences he'd always escaped wouldn't bury everything he cared about now.

That past must remain secret.

He won't go back to what he's always been.

[metalomagnetic]

Hey Metalo- the It runs series is currently 470,893 words all together; when you started writing the story, did you expect for it to become this long? Was the plot fully thought out in your head, or did it change and expand considerably? And how did the idea even come to you??!!?

Oh, not by far! I thought It run would have around 100K words, at best!

My problem is that I never outline. I always know the beginning, the end, and some major plot points to connect the two, but that's it.

It runs became so huge, because, as I wrote, I started falling in love with the characters. Or just found myself needing to flesh them out. So, in my head, I knew Marlene exists and she'll be with Sirius and Bella would kill her, I knew that from the get go- but, as I started writing, from chapter to chapter, I liked Marlene more and more, and then I thought- wait, Sirius needs to be very close to her (and so does the reader) for her death to mean something. And there you go- 50k just on Marlene! And same goes for Peter, Rabastan, Rodolphus etc.

Other plot points evolved naturally, and then I had to shift my initial ideas to incorporate them. For example, I really thought Sirius choosing to abandon the Order would go differently- I had another vague plan in mind, which I kept until literally two chapter before I decided on a different path.

And most of Voldemort/Sirius scenes come to me when I sit down to write a chapter- almost none were planned beforehand. I just get an idea and think 'oh, this would be fun for Sirius and Voldemort' and then I go to write it, but some need set up, so I build a set up, and there you go, another 20k out of nowhere.

The werewolf wedding almost didn't happen. The chapter was ready to publish, when I was speaking with a friend about werewolves in HP, and a possible Greyback/Voldemort, and then I thought- you know what, It runs could have some werewolves in it, it would make the world feel more real. Hmm, how to incorporate them? Oh, what if Voldemort drags Sirius to a pack event and Sirius shifts into Padfoot? That would be funny. So then I wrote it, found ways to incorporate it, and that was that. (It was pretty much the same with the vampires. Last minute decisions). Only both these scenes then spiralled into other scenes, and so forth.

As for how the idea for It runs even came to me- Sirius was always my favourite character, but I gave up on him in fandom. He's still my favourite though, along with the Black family. So I really wanted to write him and explore his relationship with family, but then I didn't know who to pair him with. Remus is out of the question for me, James would make it completely AU (and I do like a general air of canon compliance) so I really didn't know who would fit with him. Why not Voldemort, I thought, my other favourite character, who I was already comfortable writing? And then I wrote the sex scene, just to try it out, see if they have chemistry. And oh, they did! (The sex scene in Norway was the first ever scene I wrote for It runs). After that, I started thinking about a general plot, and that was that. (Fun fact, it took me like 300k words to reach the sex scene in Norway, once I started writing the story😂)

Anyway, I didn't mean for this answer to be so long- you see my problem and tendency to say too much? That explains my novel length chapters.

[albatris]

rentalcar update!

it's been a hot minute since I did one of these!

today's word count is 75,595...... uh oh! "but it was over 100k a few weeks ago, monday!" yes my process is mysterious and unknowable

today I got a lot of work done due to the being at my friend's house where we just sit around and vibe together. I'm really happy with my progress!

today's mood is a severe lack of sleep and today's jam is "little lies you're told" by joywave

taglist and today's excerpt under the cut! it's jumbly and unedited sowwy

She settled on the couch and immediately sprawled herself out, bringing her legs up onto the cushions and cuddling right up to him, her head nestling down on his shoulder. Nat’s heart pounded in his chest in a rhythm he was certain she could hear. Was she coming onto him? What was this? Why was she so close?

The movie seemed to be about a zombie invasion of a small town in Pennsylvania, but Nat was finding it hard to pay attention. Partially tiredness from his night of work and the emotional stress he was under. Partially his hyper-awareness of Ripley’s presence. The longer the movie wound on, though, and the longer Ripley stayed like that, leaning herself against him all cosy, the more Nat suspected that she was simply just more physically affectionate than he was. What had the care package said about vampires and physical contact? They liked it, right?

Did he like this?

Maybe she would think his pounding heart was just exhilaration from the jump-scares, from watching so many zombie heads get blown off, so many entrails get ripped out. The movie was exceptionally gory. He was—uncomfortable. But he was almost always uncomfortable. He found himself wishing he was home cuddling his cat instead, but he almost always wished he was home instead of out. Even when he was enjoying himself, he was never truly enjoying himself.

Did he like this?

Nat tried to untangle his emotions. Fear, shame, guilt, stress, paranoia—oh, there was relief here, too. Relief and affection. Small flutterings of it. Nat exhaled and tried to release all his tension. He did like this. He hated it, but he liked it.

“What—what’s that thing called?” he asked during one of the movie’s lulls in action. “That thing that gets all up in your brain. The Greeble. The Gerbil.”

Ripley wheezed, laughing. “The Garble?”

“That’s the bastard.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Do you believe in it?”

“I don’t… not believe in it… I guess.” Ripley reached up to pat Nat’s face, ruffle his hair, playfully. “I mean, do I believe there’s something alive in vampire bodies? Like, wriggling around in the blood and stuff? Something that gives us our power and demands life force in return? Abso-fucking-lutely. Do I believe in—in some big spiritual vampire hivemind god that connects us all? Not really. I think it’s just—a way certain people have of wrapping their heads around the physical. It’s like a comforting delusion, maybe." She stopped for a breath. "Do you believe in the Garble?”

“I don’t know,” Nat said. “I haven’t decided yet. It talks to me. I can feel a presence sometimes. It could be something alive in me, like a parasite. Or it could be a big hivemind god.”

Ripley nodded thoughtfully.

“My friend Alex thinks it’s a spiritual thing, I think,” Nat said. “I wouldn’t call it a delusion exactly. I’ve been delusional. Religion is different.”

“Does your friend think it has, like, a purpose?” Ripley asked. “That’s what I always ask that trips people up. If it’s a religion, if it’s spiritual, what’s the point? What does it all mean? What’s the higher purpose?”

“I dunno. I’ll ask next time I see him, maybe.”

“Here’s a hint: there isn’t a higher purpose,” Ripley said. “It’s all just—just a fucked up medical condition.”

“If it’s a medical condition, why is no one working towards a cure?”

“You think vampires are running around offering themselves up for medical research? We’re not human anymore. If we told people what we really are, that we’re monsters, we’d get cut up into teeny tiny pieces by the government for sure.”

To emphasise Ripley’s point, the lead of the movie ran a chainsaw through a zombie’s decaying chest.

“Yeah,” Nat agreed. “Best not.”

@transmasc-wizard @saturn-iidae @polyaubergine @tracle0 @goosemixtapes @valence-positive @the-one-who-makes-negative-noise @ambiguousfiction @afoolandathief @silverwarewolf @mecharose @vellichor-virgo @plasticseaslug @jetstargenderfuckery @multi-lefaiye @writeouswriter @junoshusband @writing-is-a-martial-art @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @sleepycaprine @cream-and-tea @gailynovelry @lefttigerobservation @indecentpause @somealienquill @cannivalisms @violetfoxsketches @approximately20eggs @mohluskiepedard @desastreus @kk7-rbs @cee-grice @northwyrm @xylophonicsynapse @careful-pyromancer @recapitulation @incandescent-creativity @whole-buncha-snakess @mysticalalleycat @thatonecrowguy @va-nila-bean @televisionjester @excessive-vampires @walkman-cat

[hircines-hunter]

100k in 100days challenge - thoughts

When I did the No-Skip November, I was writing over 1000 words a day, finishing at 39k words in 30 days. I decided to try a challenge to write 100k in 100days. I’m not sure if the month long break, broke my writing streak, but I was not writing as much as before. So a few weeks into my challenge I decided to cut the words to 60k. And even though I fell short of the new quota, I still wrote 52k in 100 days.

Below are the basic stats. Daily words, final word count. 87% finished is still passing lol 😆! I’ll add each months daily count under a cut if anyone is interested.

The main goal was to write every day. If I reached 100k or 60k I did. If I didn’t? ¯\_(ツ)_/ at least I wrote.

I’m just glad it’s done lol 😆

I’ll be taking a break! Idk how long. Ofc I’ll be writing still. Just won’t be as pressured to write everyday or a lot. I might do an art challenge for the summer? Still deciding.

Also, because I forgot, my friend Sulphur mentioned that I was also drawing during this challenge. I haven’t had time to count an updated completed works, but I know I’ve drawn at least 70ish pics during this time as well. I am counting each chibi! There are also tons of doodles yall haven’t seen. Ahaha. 🤣 but I’ve been wanting to improve on my art more, so that is something I’ll be looking into. Anyways!

Thank you for all the encouragement and congratulations and listening to me ramble about this challenge when I did!

[crescencestudio]

๋࣭⭑ Devlog #38 | 2.27.24 ๋࣭⭑

How is it already almost March omfg.

Anyways Happy Valentine's Day month!!! This year, I was swamped with work, so I didn't get a chance to make Valentine's Day art. I did make a Valentine's piece last year though.

BUT we did have beloved @magunalafay make these Valentine's Day cards this year for the community!!! <3 If you missed it, well Happy Valentine's Day!!!!!

She made these as a gift, and I love her very much. Maguna u r so talented

This month was pretty busy for me, but I'm super happy with the progress made this month ^^ I feel like I've started the year off in a pretty good groove after it being all over the place for a hot second, yay!!!

This past month, Etza and Druk's routes. With the revamped demo finishing its revisions, it left a lot more time for me to focus writing on full route development.

If you missed the announcement, I FINISHED Etza's first draft!!! YAAAYYY!!!! FINALLY!!!!!!

That means 4/6 routes are finished in terms of the base writing, which is so exciting to MEEEEE. I've always seen Etza's draft as The Milestone because with their route finished, it would mean the four Central routes are done writing. And to me, while there's a good chuck of writing left, we are nearing the end of it.

There's only two routes left and that means it's about ~100k words which is CRAZY compared to when I had ~300k to write (:cries:). Even if that sounds like a lot, once I start chipping away at those routes, that 100k goes into the "double digits" aka 90k...80k... etc. and that makes me want to pee my pants

We also finished editing Druk's route, yay!!! So we reached a lot of milestones this month ^^

We are nearing the end of the Vui background commissions. It's very bittersweet; I'm so used to mentioning him in my devlogs now </3 There's only like 3(?) more BGs left for him to make, and then all of the BGs for the game will be finished. Very Wild! I think Alaris will have 25ish BGs, and they are all Stunning.

It's been a while since I showed you all a BG, so I'll give you all a preview of one I just got in!

Isn't it cozy? Guess whose house hehe

I personally have been doing a lot of sprite work this month to finish the final art assets for the demo. I added some expressions to Druk and Aisa that I'd been procrastinating (I don't even know why I was procrastinating them). And I finally finished Mom and Kimura's updated sprites! Patreon already saw them, but I'll show the new versions here too ^^

Preview of Mom (left) and Kimura (right) updated sprites. Now everyone's sprite styles are cohesive YAY!!

Aside from sprite work, much of my "art" time has been on finishing up/putting together the last of the screens for the GUI. Specifically, I got THIS BABY up and running. She is my crowning glory.

Memory Screen to Replay Unlocked Free Time Dates

Oh my god.... You all have NO IDEA how much of a pain this was to code. There is a transparency gradient going on in the left and right B&W previews (courtesy of community programming angel feniks/shawna).

And then the effort to have the Titles and Descriptions of the Previewed Date change tilted me on Multiple Occasions. But we finally got it to work thanks to bestie @siyo-koy pointing out I just coded one stupid "if" statement wrong LJAFSLIEFJIEJ. But the effort was WORTH IT because I'm so proud of her!!! I hope you all like it too as a way to relive Free Time Dates. I had a lot of fun with the Titles and descriptions.

I also put together the Stats and Affection Screens

Preview of Personality Stats & Affection Screens

So I coded both of them a bit differently from each other. The Personality Screen shows you a breakdown of your traits so far. Think of it like a pie graph! So in the preview picture, your choices indicate you are 33% Brave, 16% Charismatic, etc. I felt like this was a more natural way to portray personality rather than how many bravery points you've collected so far!

And then for Affection, it works in a more traditional way, where it counts it based on how many you've gotten out of the total amount you can get. This way, as the story progresses, how close you are to the person reflects how much your relationship as developed!

I've also added little descriptions underneath each that change depending on the percentage. So for example, if you have gotten 82% of the affection points for Kuna'a, the description of your relationship might change as well hehe

Other than that, I've mainly focused on getting the demo together. We released the beta demo earlier this month (? LOL). And the feedback has been so kind!!

A lot of this month was spent polishing so that the demo can be ready for early access and eventually public release. I updated sprites, made sure music crossfades with each other so that transitions between soundtracks feel smoother, I added/polished all of the screens I needed to (e.g., Memory Room, Full Credits, Cleaning Music Room, Adding Stats Screens), and I FINALLY as of yesterday added the Voiced Lines!!

One thing I added in the Extended Demo that I'm really happy with is the use of Extended Pronouns (courtesy of Angel Feniks). Below is a preview of how it works now!

Preview of Extended Pronouns Function. Credit to Feniks

Basically, you can choose multiple pronouns for yourself, including custom pronouns (e.g., xe/xem, fae/faer, etc.). On top of that, you can choose how often you'd like the pronouns to alternate (e.g., every line versus every scene) and what kind of terms you'd like to be used for you (e.g., neutral vs. masculine vs. feminine)!

Overall, the demo is getting closer and closer to release!!! Early Access will hopefully be ready by the end of this week or next, so if you all would like access to it, please feel free to subscribe to my Patreon for this upcoming month! Available to Wyvern tier ($5) and up.

I didn't have any time to really play any games this month because I was drowning in work LMFAOSLJIEF. I did play the Threads of Bay demo by @lavendeerstudios and it was GORGEOUS! Very cute game with lovable characters and charming visuals. Andrew, I will have your number

Every other section was really long, so I'm going to throw it here even though it's not market research. But Intertwine recently hit 600 ratings, which is crazy. Thank you for still enjoying that game even if it's not one that is my main focus anymore. I'm really happy people still like it :on the verge of tears:

Anyways, this has been a long devlog. Here's to continuing to Ball in March. Hope you all have a great rest of your month, and I'll talk to you soon! <3

[geekusfemme]

What if?

*******************************************************

Full story on AO3 — Wattpad 100k+

Astarion x Female OC

Rating: Mature

Summary: What if Astarion was betrayed by the Dark Urge and handed over to the Gur Hunter? And what if another kind of hunter saved him and set his life on a new course, one that would ultimately lead him to cross paths with those who had abandoned him? This story aims to give Astarion his own hero's journey separate to the main party, and will run parallel to the canon story in which Durge will be an antagonist.

*******************************************************

The forest lay quiet, bathed in golden light filtering through dense canopies that arched like ancient cathedrals over the narrow dirt road. The clip-clop of Gandrel's pony disturbed an otherwise tranquil woodland, his cart rolling steadily as he adjusted his reins, his attention largely on the road ahead. Behind him, in the cart's shadow, lay a large cage cloaked in heavy canvas, edges bound tightly with rope. Gandrel's eyes flicked occasionally to the side, cautious, as if sensing something amiss in the quiet.

In his periphery, a dark shape loomed, slinking from the undergrowth. A giant direwolf, fur like tarnished steel, padded up beside the cart, its massive paws silent on the earth. Astride the beast sat a young elven woman with raven-black hair, braided and woven with feathers. Her ice-blue eyes held him in a gaze as unwavering as her mount's. She wore a mix of leather and fur armor, each piece worn and shaped by use, the rough sinew of her life in the wilds. In her hand, a bow rested, almost lazily, but her body remained taut, poised as if she could spring from her seat at any moment.

Gandrel steadied his voice, though his grip on the reins tightened. "Greetings, friend - if friend you may be," he called out, keeping his tone cautious yet amiable. "I am Gandrel. May I know your business with me?"

The woman inclined her head slightly. Her expression gave nothing away, yet something about her presence prickled at his instincts. "Greetings, Gandrel. I am Ashara. My business with you will depend on what is contained within that cage of yours."

Gandrel glanced back to the covered cage, feeling a sudden surge of unease. Though he masked it, a shiver crept up his spine. Guiding his pony to the side, he stopped, watching her with wary eyes. She made no move to approach, but the direwolf's amber gaze was fixed upon him.

"It holds no beasts of the forest, if that is your concern," Gandrel replied, choosing his words carefully. "Only a prisoner, one I am taking to Baldur's Gate."

Ashara's expression didn't shift, but her posture did, almost imperceptibly; her bow was suddenly, dangerously, taut, the arrow aimed directly at him. "People are disappearing up and down the Sword Coast," she said, her tone sharp as flint. "I've been hired to investigate. You will show me this prisoner. Now."

Gandrel forced a placating smile, raising his hands slowly. "Please, do not mistake my intent. The prisoner I carry isn't one of your missing innocents. He is vampire spawn - a creature my tribe tasked me with capturing and delivering to Baldur's Gate."

Ashara's gaze never wavered, the bowstring taut in her grip. "Nevertheless, I require you to show me this prisoner."

Reluctantly, Gandrel clambered down from the cart, moving slowly to avoid provoking her further. He reached for the ropes holding the thick canvas in place, fingers steady but betraying a flicker of resignation. With a swift motion, he pulled the covering free, revealing the cage's occupant.

—♤—

Ashara's gaze sharpened as she took in the unusual features of the elven man in front of her: red eyes like garnets gleaming beneath the tangle of his silver curls, pale skin sunlit, but without the burns that would afflict a vampire. He was on his knees with his hands bound behind his back, a strip of twisted cloth silencing any cries he might have given. A rope wound tightly around his neck, the other end of which was passed through the bars of his prison and tied to a metal ring in the bed of the cart.

As he caught sight of her, the elf strained against his bindings, muffled sounds slipping past the gag as he glanced between her and Gandrel with urgent desperation.

Gandrel held up a hand, intercepting her questions before she could voice them. "I understand the confusion," he said, his voice calm yet resolute. "I was also taken aback to find a vampire walking freely in sunlight. But make no mistake - his immunity only serves his deceit. He used it to win the trust of a band of adventurers."

Inside the cage, the elf shook his head furiously, his eyes flashing with fierce protest. In a desperate effort, he scraped his gag against the bars until he managed to free his mouth. Though Ashara searched for telltale fangs, he kept his lips firmly pressed - a gesture that did not escape her notice. She hesitated, her gaze sharp with suspicion, yet unwilling to accept Gandrel's explanation outright.

"Please, listen," the elf gasped, his voice smooth yet strained, an accent polished with nobility. "This Gur is lying through his teeth! My name is Astarion, and I'm a magistrate from Baldur's Gate. I was kidnapped by this thug, who most likely intends to ransom me. Free me, and I'll see you richly rewarded."

Ashara studied him, noting the regal, carefully groomed air about him, the elegance of his speech, his clothing - though dirtied - was finely made. She looked back at Gandrel, suspicion flickering in her gaze. "Proof," she said quietly, her tone brooking no argument. "Show me proof of his nature beyond mere words."

Gandrel's expression flickered as if with hesitation, but he nodded in resigned acceptance. Climbing up onto the cart, he took hold of the rope tied to the elf's neck and pulled it taut, dragging him toward the back of the cage despite his furious writhing. Tying it off, he produced a key and moved to the cage's door, opening it and stepping inside.

Ashara watched, a prickling unease creeping up her spine as he seized the man by the hair, forcing his head back with a relentless grip.

Astarion snarled, his voice venomous. "Unhand me, you filthy bastard! What are you - no!"

Gandrel ignored his protests, gripping Astarion's lower jaw with his other hand, forcing his mouth open to reveal sharp, glinting canines, gleaming in the sunlight like a predator's trap laid bare.

"See?" Gandrel murmured, his voice low, yet something in his eyes seemed troubled as he looked back at Ashara.

All pretense vanished from Astarion's face, twisting his elegant features into something feral as he jerked his head, his fangs flashing as he snapped at Gandrel's hands. The hunter barely flinched, releasing Astarion with an eerie calm, stepping back as if accustomed to such wild resistance.

Gandrel's voice was devoid of sympathy. "I take no pleasure in this, spawn. It would have served you better to be truthful."

Astarion strained against his bonds, spitting like a wild cat. "Go to the hells! I'll tear you to pieces for this, Gur."

Ashara felt a chill crawl up her spine at Astarion's abrupt, vicious change. He'd gone from a desperate prisoner to something far more dangerous, a predator wounded and cornered. Still, her voice was steady when she spoke to Gandrel, watching him as he locked up the cage and loosened the rope tether, giving Astarion just enough freedom to slump back onto his knees.

"What will happen to this vampire once you've delivered him to your people?" she asked, her gaze flicking to Astarion, now panting heavily, his eyes wild with fury.

"What do you think? They'll kill me!" Astarion cut in before Gandrel could answer. The fear in his gaze stirred something reluctant in her, as he pleaded, "Look, I'm sorry for lying, but I haven't done anything wrong. I wasn't going to hurt anyone, I swear."

Gandrel's expression hardened, his voice now cool, a wall built from old wounds and memories. "That may be so these past few days, but you're wanted for more than just being a vampire. You helped steal away the children of my tribe. My own included."

The words fell like stones, each one a blow that left Astarion frozen. He flicked a nervous glance at Ashara, his composure wavering. She caught the tension in his shoulders, the flicker of shame in his eyes, so brief it could've been a trick of the light. But when he looked up, anger masked his face once more.

"I didn't have a choice!" Astarion's voice rose, a bitter edge cutting through it. "Cazador ordered me to take them, and I had to obey. All his spawn have to obey - you know that damn well, Gur!"

Gandrel's face hardened, but a flicker of pain crossed his eyes, so brief Ashara almost missed it. "Willingly or not, it makes no difference. You know what happened to those children, and you will tell us."

Astarion looked away, jaw clenched. "You want to know what happened? They're probably dead by now." His voice was low, resignation tainted with anger. "Nothing I say can change that, and I won't apologize for something I couldn't control."

The weight of Gandrel's sorrow settled heavily in the silence between them, and his jaw tightened, a haunted glint in his eye. "Then my people will have their vengeance... one way or another."

Astarion scoffed, a hollow, bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Killing me won't change a damn thing."

Gandrel turned to Ashara, his eyes weary but resolute. "Now that you've seen my prisoner, am I free to continue on my way?"

She glanced back at Astarion, who had slumped back against the bars, head bowed as though each breath was an effort. A faint sense of guilt stirred within her, but she forced herself to nod, her voice quiet. "Yes... your business with this man is your own."

Astarion's head jerked up, his eyes ablaze with fury and betrayal. "Damn you!" His voice cracked, the anger veiling something more fragile. Then he fell silent, a hollow figure against the iron bars.

Ashara straightened, stroking her wolf's thick fur as she gave Gandrel a respectful nod. "Onyx and I apologize for detaining you, Gandrel of the Gur. May your journey be swift and your burden light."

A weary smile ghosted across Gandrel's face as he climbed back onto the cart, his eyes softening as he inclined his head. "And so too may yours be, Ashara."

She nudged Onyx to step aside as Gandrel took up the reins, his cart lumbering forward along the winding path. But as they passed, her gaze fell back to the figure in the cage. Astarion was watching her, and in his eyes, she caught a shimmer - a trace of something unguarded, unfeigned. A plea that was all the more startling for its sincerity.

"Please..." he whispered, his voice a fragile thread, breaking under the weight of despair. "Help me."

She tore her gaze away, her chest tightening as a pang of guilt twisted within her. Beneath her, Onyx sensed her discomfort, and gave a low rumbling growl of reassurance as they slipped back into the forest.

Beneath the cover of trees, she dismounted, letting her thoughts drift as she resumed the task she'd abandoned earlier - skinning the deer she'd taken down just before Gandrel had passed by.

Onyx settled beside her, his watchful eyes fixed on her with a calm assurance as his voice echoed in her mind.

"You feel guilt over the vampire. Waste not your sympathy. His kind are known for cruelty and deception. His fate is one he surely deserves."

Ashara paused, turning to run her hand over the thick fur along Onyx's neck. "I know. But something about seeing him caged like that - so desperate for freedom - it reminded me of you. People said you were a monster too." She gave a half-smile, her eyes softening. "And I'm glad I didn't believe them."

Onyx's muzzle curled into a canine grin, his teeth glinting. "As am I, my friend."

She sighed, tracing the line of her blade over the deer's pelt. "I know I shouldn't get involved-"

"Then don't." Onyx's voice was calm, grounded in a wisdom that often tempered her impulsive nature.

"But maybe we could free him and let him go somewhere remote and far away from people?" she argued, more to herself than to him. "Like that owlbear we rescued from hunters?"

Onyx scratched an ear, tilting his head thoughtfully. "A vampire is not an owlbear, Ashara. If he is freed, he will remember every slight, every indignity. And he will eventually return to civilization, hungrier and more cunning than before. Do you truly wish the blood of the next innocent traveller he meets to be on your conscience?"

Ashara felt the weight of his words and lowered her gaze, her resolve weakening. "No... you're right."

Onyx's voice softened as he leaned his head against her arm. "If you choose to free him, his fate is your responsibility. You would have to ensure he never harms another innocent soul. And that would mean keeping him close and watching over him."

She glanced up, startled. "What... like a pet?"

A rare bark of laughter escaped Onyx, a sharp huff that made her smile despite herself. "No, not quite. I do not think he would take kindly to that title."

Ashara grinned, feeling slightly foolish at her assumption. Then, a spark of curiosity glinted in her eyes as she remembered. "Oh, how did I do back there by the way?"

Onyx nuzzled her cheek affectionately. "You handled yourself well. You were confident, respectful."

"I wasn't too aggressive?"

"For a man who captured a vampire? I think you showed just the right amount." His amber eyes gleamed approvingly.

Ashara gave a small, proud smile, her hands resuming their work. But even as she focused on the deer, her thoughts drifted back to the prisoner. Those crimson eyes, filled with anguish, haunted her. And as the forest wrapped around her, she wondered if she could truly let that plea go unanswered.

Like what you're reading? Check out the full chapter in the link below.

[voltstone]

LYCOS | SCALDING | 3 (Wenclair A/B/O)

SCALDING | moon | Pt.3

“I am why you never lay a hand on Enid Sinclair.”

ajax is to be taken care of. however, nevermore's pack has wednesday's attention. she craves their bloodshed. wednesday may have to reach to depravity once more, where a siren's word will be a savior.

[105,282] (i; [44,340] 5/30/2024) (ii; [26,229] 2/20/2025) (iii; [34,713] 2/28/2025)

no it did not take me a little less than a year to do this. and no i didn't split it up into three because i would've run out of characters. and nO it is nOT 100k words.

anyway.

hope you enjoy!

:)

AO3 1.3 First Chapter: AO3 | First Post

(read more for chapter teaser.)

Enid doesn’t wake. She stirs, on occasion. There’s an itch down her nose, then a squirming of a brow, before she twists to find … you. As though your rot, sweet decay, is better than the infirmary’s cold. The ceramic tiles are basked in it. The grout as well. Every counter, drawer, shelf — the woods have fermented within pills and alcohol since Nevermore opened its doors.

And you have kept to her side. You’ve not left.

Your mouth is warm from the murmurings you slipped to her when the clinic was empty, and it was just you, and it was Enid. A poem, dredged from the depths of your decrepit soul. It swelled the room. Blue began to froth around her, those concord grapes. Didn’t understand. Still don’t.

That perfume on her is a soothing thing. And she’s hidden it away from you, until these moments.

It lingered when the nurses bustled in and shoved you aside. Lingers now when you’ve found your perch on a chair, hovered over Enid’s head and pillow. 

The watch in your vest pocket weighs heavier than it should. It reduced you to a fidget — absentminded — when the nurses did their work, until it pricked you, and left you now with a thumb stinging the fine line you cut off its glass. Blood pounds a dull rhythm in the wound. It’s the same swelled within your nose. It’s belligerent in every laceration you hadn’t yet realized you acquired.

Hollow, however, is your cruelest pain. A tight manglement, thick of sloughed oil. Pores bubble upon its surface. Air is in heavy smolder. Your velveted heart stirs in ways it shouldn’t. In ways … it hasn’t for far too long.

(In ways that you have longed for silently, fervently.)

The nurses step aside. Their voices are a blear to you. The words are between them, and they are careened to their desks, away from the shell of your ear. So you capture Enid’s hand. Her skin is smoother than the parchment your typewriter bludgeons in ink. And as your eyes trace her, you find a quirk of a thing: where her watch laid its loyalty, there is a pastel shadow banded around her wrist. Her skin is fair. And yet, it rejoices sun; her complexion matures beyond pastel shadow.

You keep the fact to yourself. You intend it to be a better stashed secret than the very watch in your pocket.

And you steal more. Her hand is crafted in lithe angles. Narrow, but should her fist close now, Enid would net yours whole. Leave little room for you to slip away.

…she … should be awake for you. Yet she is not.

Hollow churns. You smooth over drawls of knuckle. And then, you whisper the ends to your poem. You whisper in low tones, for Enid to hear, and Enid alone.

“Injertaré estas cicatrices tuyas en la memoria. Conoceré estas suturas mientras sanan… Y…”

A nurse’s shadow crosses lamplight. Your eyes dart as she strips her gloves and soothes the residual powder across her palm. There’s a hint of chlorine — another residual, biting to your nose.

“Y estas se desvanecerán. Serán los … caminos que suavizaré en tu piel, más profundos que el perfume.”

Enid is the harmony to your eyes. The colors painted within blonde canvas sing to you again. Has you think coral ocean — as if your soul castaway, adrift at her bedside, could ever have the wingspan to cradle her blue horizon.

You can’t. It’s the worst floundering visual for ego.

Because you are silent as you drown in what you can do. There is nothing. You grasp after a miserable hope that these sutures are enough, and that every stirring of your mind will scorn the way you intend.

There is a patchwork of bandages left behind. On her arms, shoulders. Most of those wounds are light. Mere scuffs or grazes — they are not a concern. Her face is cleared of blood now, and like her arms, her hands, much of what was left behind looked worse than what it is. Her lips, however… And her nose… They are a sore reminder of what you feared.

Your eyes are burning for her legs best of all. Because you did not miss the way her socks are flecked by fallen blood, nor were you blind to the gauze both nurses applied. How the white bloomed a vibrant shade. A wine. It bloomed the shade of her wine.

It scalds a violence. It starts and ends with that Omega.

“Now, for your nose, Miss Wednesday—”

You don’t bother your eyes. A hand waves her off.

The older nurse. Reeks like a stale, cobwebbed corner. Not stale Vampyrically, however. No. Lycan. She’s a wolf as well, and unless born intuition has left you, Omega. 

Your tongue rolls the iron in your mouth. Lobs together fresh and old — flakes of what you damned yourself last night to the beaded sinews from a fight won.

“Miss Wednesday. It doesn’t look broken, but it still requires my attention.”

You’re glaring at her from down your shoulder. A veteran to the school — her jade eyes are cutting, and brunette hair is fraught by white. You don’t break away. The same hand nudges the offered gauze already doused in alcohol. In peripheral, the gauze hangs in the air as though she is, despicably, truthfully, astounded. Be it the physical contact, or every grain of your existence, you’ve struck another cord of hers.

Her patience seems to perpetually be strained with you. It may be your tact, or it’s the chiding she does. Or both, because she knows the chiding will never find its place here, with you. Her brow tweaks and a lip squirms as though you pried a nail beneath her skin.

“What about Enid?”

AO3 1.3 First Chapter: AO3 | First Post

[plusultraetc]

Fic Writer Interview

Thank you so much @starlightbelle for tagging me!! If there are any One Piece fans following this blog, I highly recommend Belle's fics!

-- How many works do you have on AO3?

Officially I have 18, but it's 19 if you include the Star Wars au (my beloved). I haven't taken it out of the anonymous collection yet because I promised myself I would only do so when I posted the second chapter, but I still count it in my head!

-- What's your total AO3 word count?

95,613 :') I know that's nothing compared to some writers, but I am unreasonably pleased with it. I'm wondering if I should do something fun when I break 100k, which should hopefully be soon with chapter 2 of 'now i'm glad i get forever' 🤞

-- What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

there's no good tricks but old ones

i'll take what i can get, i'll take what i am given

you've got no fear of the underdog

write me a list of how it is

every battle, every day

-- Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do!! I'm a smidge behind on literally everything this month, but I eventually respond to them all <3 I really do appreciate every single comment, they literally make my entire week and sometimes it takes me so long to reply because I am editing my response four hundred times to take out all of the !!!s.

(I also love getting to talk to others in the fandom, even if it's just for a single exchange--MHA is actually the Most Involved I've ever been in a fandom, and I've met so many really cool people by commenting and replying to comments on fics!! Thank you ao3 comments section, I love you ao3 comments section.)

-- What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Hmmm this is tough bc I don't write a lot of angsty endings, and most of my fics are canon compliant anyway so the angst is relative? With this in mind, it's probably 'there's no good tricks but old ones'--it's one of my only fics where there isn't some kind of emotional breakthrough or connection reached (or even the start of one) and it's pre-Paranormal Liberation War arc so we all know Hawks is headed for A Really Bad Time 😬

-- What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

All of them,, but I did write about Shinsou finding out he'd been accepted into the hero course in 'every battle, every day' which might take the cake (Brian from TAZ voice I'm so proud of them etc)

-- Do you write crossovers?

Do crossovers have to include characters from another media? Bc I've written aus set in other universes, but none of the characters from them appear 🤔

-- Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Thankfully no! I did once receive a comment that was just like. A Statement with no tonal indicators, In All Caps, but I'm 99% sure it was meant to be taken positively. okay 98% sure.

-- Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope! (I also don't read E-rated fics even though I get so many interesting looking recommendations with that rating 😭 If you've ever recommended me an E-rated fic and I just never brought it up again I'M SORRY)

-- Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of?

-- Have you ever had a fic translated?

Also no!

-- Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I think it would be fun :D

-- What's your all-time favorite ship?

It feels like cheating to say erasermic on the MHA blog, but like. I'm going to say erasermic on the MHA blog. I don't think I'd ever written anything for a ship in my life before them. To be loved is to be changed but to have a ship is also to be changed.

-- What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Never say never but rip time travel fic lol.

-- What are your writing strengths?

IF I SAY SOMETHING YOU DISAGREE WITH LOOK AWAY. But. I think I write good dialogue, especially banter, and that I am occasionally funny. I also think I'm pretty good at describing places, but only if I have a clear mental image of them, so I feel like you can always tell when I'm not sure what a room looks like (which is most of the time).

-- What are your writing weaknesses?

Second-guessing and self-doubting myself into genuine writing paralysis. Also internal monologue/narration, like a character thinking about and articulating their feelings :')

-- What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I'm a little confused about this question?? But I also only speak one language fluently so I can't do this anyway 😭

-- What was the first fandom you wrote for?

When my sister and I were kids we used to pick our favorite characters from a bunch of different movies/books/shows and tell stories about them all going on some kind of gigantic crossover adventure, so it was probably something along the lines of 'Scooby-Doo, Batman, and Jedidiah from Night at the Museum vs Firelord Ozai'

-- What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I have a few Demon Slayer WIPs I'd love to figure out one day!

-- What's your favorite fic you've written?

This question is so hard bc like. Does it mean my favorite fic while I was working on it, or my favorite result? The fic that was easiest to write, or most difficult but most worth it?? The fic I've reread the most, or the fic I'm afraid to reread in case it doesn't live up to the memory I have of it??? Can I do a top 3????

This was so much fun!! (even though it did give me several small crises staring at my stats page--run 'i'll take what i can get, i'll take what i am given,' 'there's no good tricks but old ones' is right behind you!!) No-pressure tagging @machiroads @blinkeasy @kyurilin @karliahs @poppy5991 @ifyougoillfollow and anyone else who sees this & wants to participate!! I was scrolling through my following tab but omg it's a long list so I def missed some writers 😭

[thelonelyshore-if]

I reached 30k words for chapter 1 p2 tonight. I can't believe how long this is getting...though I guess it isn't that surprising. I always write way too much. I did this to myself tbh.

Once it's finished, the combined chapter 1 will be well over 100k words total which. Oof. I hope it's as fun to play as it has been to write.

[die-schwanenkoenigin]

AO3 Wrapped 2024

I was tagged by @lilolilyr to post my AO3 stats for 2024. Thank you!! <3

Please note that all titles/words highlighted in colors are clickable!

Works published: 19 total, 13 of which were for Hacks, and six of which were for The Devil Wears Prada.

Word count: 96,568. Shame I didn't reach 100k I guess (I was SO close, too), but oh well.

Kudos: 3,427 as of Jan 6, 2025

Hits: 67,797

Bookmarks: 445

Subsciptions: 401

Most popular by kudos: Partners, at 601. Oh, hey, it's reached 600 kudos since I last checked!!! The first fic of mine to go over that threshold :')

Most hits: the joys of spring, at a whopping 18,445! The hit count is so high that it's even closing in on my second most popular Camren fic (19,463 hits). Still, it'll be a long way to go to get to the top spot, where my most popular Camren fic currently sits at 27,821 hits. At the same time, it's been less than a year for this one, and seven for the others, soooo... who knows what'll happen!

Longest: Once again, the answer is the joys of spring! the joys of spring has exactly 30,000 words in 30 chapters. (My greatest accomplishment in 2024 tbh lol.)

Shortest: Well, technically speaking, it's Exclusive at 50 words. It's not a fic, though. It's a manip, and the article I wrote to go along with it is just... an afterthought. Which is why I'm going to go with That's not very in love with me of you at 500 words.

Most comments: the joys of spring once again, which got 145 comment threads.

Favorite comment: This one from @prozac-shaped-urn, hands down.

Wow!! I never thought I'd see the day where someone would give me a run for my money in the smut department, but you absolutely have!!! I'm highly impressed! The em dashes really add a heightened level of anticipation to the scene, and I like the hyperfocus on internal senses. The imagery of galaxies behind Ava's eyes speaks to the full-body domino effect of pleasure. It's very well executed. I'm over here taking deep breaths and consciously unclenching my jaw. Ya got me hot and bothered, ngl. Ava swallows. Blood rushes to her head, and she knows without a doubt that her face is red. She’s hot, burning hot, and she can’t pay attention long enough to hear the rest of what Deborah is saying. Not shaming, then. Accusing? Is Deborah accusing her of— Ava stares ahead and licks her lips. It’s all she can do to try not to be too obvious about the absolute state of her underwear. She’s so fucking—why is this not turning her off? Why is being scolded by Deborah doing it for her? “Come.” “Huh?” The way I also had the 'Huh?' reaction to reading 'Come' skldjfalkdjsf It spreads from her core to her stomach, to her thighs. And then to her heart, and to her arms, to her legs and head and her everything. / Ava swears something bursts behind her eyes. It might be a firework. It might be a meteor. It might be an entire fucking galaxy. / The galaxy behind her eyes explodes into a wall of white while her body pulses, her stomach contracting along with those pulses. This focus on internal senses is what I wish everyone would include in their smut. But writing erotica is a skill! It takes time to learn how to meld senses together to create an immersive reading experience, and I think you've done that well. Consider me a fan! <3

I didn't reply to it for days on end when I got it, I just wanted to read it over and over again. And I'm still not over it. Like. I'm deserving of this much praise????? Me???? Ahhsbjhdsvjcjdhb!!!!!

Fics that made me cry: The one fic that had any angst in it, Shattered Remains. Writing it felt really good. I loved it. But it did also make me very emotional.

Fics that made me smile: I don't really remember anything but the one fic that literally cracked me up every single time I attempted to read or edit it. Keepin' You Hangin' On The Telephone. My fiancée and I (jokingly, at first) tried coming up with absolutely ridiculous euphemisms for the vulva and vagina and after telling @wilfriede about it, they made me keep every single one of them. Without tagging the fic as crack, or warning people about it. And, honestly? It was kind of a blast. People liked it despite the horrendous euphemisms, and we three got a huge kick out of it and laughed about it for ages lol.

Gifts: Five! That's all the gifts I've ever received! :))) I got two Hacks fics from @lilolilyr, and three podfics from @wilfriede! Two of those were my own works, which made the gifts even more exciting! Like. Their Podfic of Bitte bitte mich is literally perfect. It's exactly how I imagined it and how I would have read it myself. (And you should totally listen to it.)

Collaborations: One! My first collaboration ever, in fact! Dare Me to Tell You the Truth was written by me, recorded by @wilfriede and me, and edited by @wilfriede for Pod Together 2024! As well as my first collab, this was also my first ever podfic. For either of those, I couldn't have asked for a better person to work with, honestly. @wilfriede -- thank you for your enthusiasm, your excitement, and your patience! You're awesome! (As are all of your podfics!)

Events: As mentioned above, Pod Together 2024. My first (and only) event :)

Word count read: I didn't read much, and I also don't keep track of my read fics. Probably somewhere between 150k and 250k, if that.

Bookmarks: I've added eight this year, making it a grand total of 27.

Once again, thank you very much to @lilolilyr for tagging me :)

I'm going to go ahead now and tag @prozac-shaped-urn, @wilfriede, @nic-writes-sometimes and @nachdenklich-tj. I can't think of anyone else who's a writer!!!!! If you see this and want to post your stats, though, go right ahead!! <3

[shewhowas39]

pairing: Astarion x f!durge (June)/OC fic summary: in which Astarion's nice, simple plan crumbles when he falls for a neutral good, cinnamon roll of a divination wizard who may or may not be a Bhaalspawn.

chapter title: Symptom of Your Touch chapter summary: in which Shadowheart gets to say "i told you so," and Astarion gets drunk on a bear. content warnings: drinking/intoxication

A/N: ahhh! we're at 100k words! i cannot believe we're this far in! thank you all so much for sticking with me this far! <3 <3

***

PREVIEW

“There you are! My friend!” He gives a chortling laugh before leaning down to pick up the sponge. His movements are broad and somewhat clumsy for the otherwise very graceful vampire.

“At your service,” June replies. 

“Are you now? Don’t make promises you can’t keep, darling!” He giggles again, followed by an actual hiccup.  

June glances at the blood and the torn shirt.  She reaches out with a hand and casts Prestidigitation to clean the blood, though she does not cast Mending, remembering what Astarion once told her about enjoying the process of repairing his own clothing.

“You all right?” she asks.

“Oh, I’m fine.” He leans in, red eyes twinkling with life. “I found a bear. He took a little of my blood. I took all of his.” He giggles again, swaying on his feet slightly. 

“You drank a whole bear?” 

“I sure did!” 

June isn’t sure if she’s meant to be horrified or impressed. So she settles for both. 

“Sounds like awful dangerous prey.”

“So is any meal worth having. It’s nothing compared to…well, other things I could be dining on.” His gaze travels down her neck, her chest, her stomach, and settles on her thighs, causing June to shiver despite the humid summer heat. After a moment, he looks back up to her face. “But significantly better than the rats and bugs Cazador served me.”

She remembers the night Astarion bit her, the moment of connection between their tadpoles, and the putrid taste of rat blood in her mouth while someone laughed cruelly nearby. 

“You won’t have to do that again,” she assures him.

[rollercoasterwords]

hi! thank you for the kind words, i'm happy you're enjoying the fic. but i also want to use this message as an opportunity to talk about something/set a boundary that i haven't really known how to discuss, and i've blocked out your name because even though i'm not angry or upset with you, i want to make sure i'm not sending any hate back your way. 

i know that this message is well-intentioned, and i know you likely think it's nothing but a compliment to ask me to write more--after all, you're only asking me to write more because you enjoy the story so much! shouldn't that be a nice thing for me to hear? 

and like. i think that's why this is difficult for me to talk about. i don't want to come across as ungrateful or overly sensitive or like i don't appreciate the compliments, because i do. but at the same time, hearing someone say, "please write more of this fic for me, i love your writing so much!" is still hearing someone say "please write more of this fic for me!" like. 300,000 words is incredibly long. most novels are between 70k-100k words. a 300k word book usually takes years to write--years, and hundreds of hours of labor. maybe you chose that number randomly, or you're exaggerating for emphasis; but no matter how nicely you're phrasing it or how facetious you're being, ultimately this sort of message still puts pressure on me to produce a massive amount of writing in a short period of time. and even if you meant it as a compliment, it doesn't feel nice to me. being pressured to churn out hundreds of thousands of words makes me feel as though i'm being seen as a content-creation machine for the entertainment of others, and i don't like that. writing is a labor of love for me, but it is still labor--hours of time and effort that i'm putting into these works which i share for free, with no expectations of anything in return except maybe a few kind words from those who feel like reaching out. when i get messages or comments like this pushing me to write more, to write faster, it makes me feel as though my time and labor are not respected at all; as if there's absolutely no consideration for the amount of effort it takes to write the stories. which, again, makes me feel like i'm being viewed as some sort of fic-writing machine that can just pump out hundreds of thousands of words on demand for others' entertainment.

and none of this is helped by the tongue-in-cheek comment about how you're "suffering" waiting for updates. again, i understand that this was well-intended and maybe even a playful exaggeration that's supposed to be complimentary. but there are ways to tell me you enjoy my writing and eagerly wait for updates without telling me how much you dislike waiting between chapters. posting once a week is already a difficult schedule for me to maintain, and it's entirely possible that i'll need to take another break in the future or skip a week or something. i've been very clear about the fact that my update schedule is subject to change since i started writing the fic; that's just part of reading a wip. but when i get messages or comments like these with people telling me how they don't like waiting for updates, or comments directly asking me to post more than once a week, or--back when i did take a break--comments begging me not to take a break, it all adds together and builds up and creates this pressure to write more, write faster, post the new ch now now now. if you were the only person making this type of comment, it probably wouldn't bother me and i'd just respond and go "thanks lol" and move on. but the problem is that you aren't the only one--since more people have started reading the fic, i've consistently been getting comments like these, where the backhanded pressure to write more or write faster is couched in compliments. it's just so hard to wait for updates because i love your writing so much! i just want you to write more and post now and write faster because i love your writing so much! i know it's all well-intended, but none of it makes me feel good. it just makes me feel a mounting pressure to produce produce produce.

i feel like there are so many conversations happening in this fandom about how we need to treat writers better, where people go "the fandom is so shitty" and everyone goes "yeah!" but no one ever thinks they're part of the problem. and i think it's because everyone thinks the problem is like...really blatantly rude and entitled messages. and like, i get those too--people telling me they don't like a certain characterization and asking me to rewrite the fic; people repeatedly demanding that i write a certain fic for them; people just outright shitting on things i've written because they don't like it and for some reason think i want to know that. but none of that is super common. what is super common is the steady stream of comments and messages like this one, where they are so well-intended and don't see anything wrong with what they're saying because they think they're giving me a compliment. but all these "compliments" build up and create this pressure that hangs over my head to be constantly producing and writing, which is ultimately what leads to burnout and also makes me feel like i'm not being seen as a person so much as a machine. 

so like. idk. i'm not gonna try to speak for every writer in the fandom; maybe there are people out there who do appreciate this kind of message, who feel like it motivates them to write. but for me, i want to make it clear: i really don't appreciate being asked to write more or write faster or to write a certain trope/ship/etc; i am not a waiter taking your order at a restaurant. writing fic is not a service i'm providing for you that you pay me for in comments or kudos or messages or any sort of attention, because i am not writing for that attention in the first place. so when it comes to interacting with me, i'd ask that you reevaluate the way you give compliments and think about what sort of pressure you're putting on me, regardless of how well-intentioned your message is. again, no hard feelings towards you--like i said, this message probably wouldn't even register as pressuring to me if not for the fact that i get so many little comments like it, all from equally well-intentioned people who think they're just giving a compliment, all of which builds up together. 

anyway. all that being said. to answer your question: the fic will likely be four parts, not three as i originally intended. it will probably end up somewhere between 100-200k words based on the fact that we're already at 80k and i've only just started part iii, but i am not going to put pressure on myself to write a certain amount of words or hit a certain length. i'm just going to write what i want to write when i want to write, and share it as i want to share it. i'm happy to have you along if you want to be here, but if the cliffhangers or waiting for updates becomes too unenjoyable for you then there's no pressure for you to stay, yknow? no hard feelings on my end either way :•)

[decks-writing-blog]

Gordon Swap: Chapter One: Vanished

Summary: Instead of throwing him into the trash compacter, the soldiers decide to throw Gordon into another one of Black Mesa's experiments.

After cutting off his hand, the soldiers decide to throw Gordon into another one of Black Mesa's experiments.

[A/N] Another fic that got out of hand length wise. This one I thought was gonna be 4-5 chapters at most. I just finished chapter 7 today and it's still going however. This isn't gonna spiral into another 24 chapter, 100k+ words fic though, I got the end goal planned and it's in sight even if i don't yet know how many more chapters are going to be needed to reach it. Because of that and how long I've been working on it, the itch to start uploading it is strong so I'm doing so.

As is often the case when I write HL Gordon I need to include a quick Content Warning; he's the reason for the 'temporary character death' tag. When he dies, time goes back and he's alive again, deaths are depicted and he thinks about manually resetting (aka killing himself) a few times but doesn't do so (as of where I'm writing now, I will give an updated warning if such occurs when uploading the chapter in question).

~

Voices roused Gordon, indecipherable under the ringing in his ears. He needed to wake up, get a move on. What his mission was exactly he couldn’t quite recall currently but it was important.

He cracked open an eye. Blank concrete ceiling moved above him like a treadmill. … No, it wasn’t moving, he was. Hands grasped his ankles, dragging him across the floor to… where? Probably nowhere good, especially since he had no idea who was dragging him. He should really do something about it.

“… toss him into that closet thingy that vanished Larry,” one of the voices said, becoming clearer.

“Eh, I don’t know ‘bout that. Larry already fucked up by messing with that, don’t know if we should too.”

“Maybe it’ll give us Larry back if we vanish him. Even if it don’t, won’t have to be concerned with the body, eh?”

“Suppose it’s worth a shot.”

They had to be talking about vanishing Gordon, right? If so, he should really do something to stop this. A lot of Black Mesa’s experiments could be dangerous. If this one had already vanished one person, messing with it wasn’t wise. But… it was hard to care as much as he should. The ringing was coming back, threatening to send him under again. His body and thoughts were too heavy to properly fight it.

That was fine though. He’d die and everything would reset. Bad but he was starting to get used to it.

***

Voices roused Gordon, indecipherable under the ringing in his ears. Everything hurt, his arm in particular. Every little bump and jolt sent a stab of pain through it.

He opened his eyes. Blank concrete ceiling went by above him as he was dragged down the hallway. Hands grasped his ankles seemingly dragging him over every imperfection on the floor big enough to jostle his arm. Why did it hurt so bad? … Maybe it was a good thing to not remember.

But if they were going to drag him the least they could’ve done was secure his arm better. Why were they dragging him anyway? Couldn’t they have just woken him like normal people? … They weren’t normal people though, were they?

“… toss him into that closet thingy that vanished Gary,” one of the voices said, becoming clearer. That wasn’t one of Gordon’s traveling companions.

“Eh, I don’t know ‘bout that. Gary already fucked up by messing with that, don’t know if we should too.” Another stranger.

Who were these people and why were they dragging Gordon and more importantly where were they dragging him to?

“Maybe it’ll give us Gary back if we vanish him. Even if it don’t, won’t have to be concerned with the body, eh?”

“Suppose it’s worth a shot.”

That sounded bad. Gordon should do something to stop this. Everything hurt though, especially his hand. He’d much rather just drift back off again to escape the pain and memory of why it hurt so bad. Already the ringing in his head was coming back. He didn’t fight it. If he died who would care anyway?

***

Gordon opened his eyes to darkness. The concrete was pleasantly cool beneath his head but that’s about all that could be said in favor of it. With no small amount of effort he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

Light came in from under a door to his left. Standing, he stumbled his way over to it. Luckily it was unlocked, allowing him to pull it open and let light spill into the room. He was in one of the office labs. Not one he was familiar with but he’d already traveled through several places in the facility he’d never been to before.

Stepping out into hall, he looked up and down it, trying to get his bearings. … Nope, he still had no idea where he was. However, a trail of dried blood came down from the left, turning to go into the room across from him. Not enough to indicate an immediately fatal wound but enough that it could potentially turn fatal if left untended for too long. He could help and potentially get some direction.

He strode into the room. The light was already on, revealing it to be mostly empty. An experiment room. Said experiment was undoubtedly the metal chamber in the center about the size and shape of a outhouse. Its door hung slightly open, letting a small stream of smoke out. The blood trail led to it.

Gordon approached and pulled the door the rest of the way open. Empty. Nodes ran up and down its interior walls, several of which were the source of the smoke. Whatever the machine had once done, it was probably broken now.

At the bottom of the chamber more blood had collected. Maybe this was the start of the blood trail? … No, it looked like it was still in the process of congealing. Whereas the stuff in the hall had soaked into the concrete and dried. What fate might’ve befallen the injured fellow, Gordon couldn’t even begin to guess.

He could reset to save them though. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done so for a stranger. Heck, he’d gone all the way back to the start to save as many as he possibly could. So he was basically obligated to. Plus he could avoid being ambushed this time. Though, if he did that how would he find his way back here to stop whoever this was from wandering into a strange experiment? Damn it.

Also as he reached for his pistol, he found nothing. It was missing. A quick check revealed all his weapons to be gone, including the crowbar. Damn it even more. He was defenseless.

Once upon a time not having a weapon was his preferred state of being. Knowing how to use a gun didn’t mean an accident couldn’t happen. Now though it made his blood run cold. He was defenseless. He needed a weapon.

Turning, he fast walked out of the room and back into the hall. There was a health and power station a bit further down. He went to it to top off the HEV suit’s medical and power systems. Headache already easing, he could think a bit clearer.

Finding a gun shouldn’t be hard. He’d found several already. They’d never been uncommon in the facility, not to mention the military bringing in more. So he was going to be fine and on his way to the Lambda Lab again in no time.

The machine on the wall beeped, indicating he’d drained it. Pressing the button on the side of the suit’s collar brought up the helmet. A moment later, its onscreen display switched on, revealing its power level to be 78% and its medical gel capacity to be at 60%. See? He was in good shape thus he was going to be fine.

Lowering the helmet once more he stepped back from and looked up and down the hall once more. With no way of knowing which direction the Lambda Lab lay in he had about a 50/50 chance of going the wrong way. The blood trail indicated something dangerous down that way though so he turned and started down the opposite direction. Hopefully he’d find something that would give him a better sense of direction soon.

***

Gordon woke to darkness, pain, and and deep insistent wrongness in his right hand. He’d much rather roll over and go back to sleep to escape back into nothingness but once the hurt took root, it refused to be ignored so easily. Whimpering, he pushed himself into a sitting position with his good hand.

To his right, light came in from under a door. Holding his injured hand to his chest, he struggled to his feet so he could stumble over to it. Luckily it was unlocked, allowing him to awkwardly pull it open, letting the hall light spill in. He was in one of the office labs. Not one he was familiar with but he’d already traveled through several places in the facility he’d never been to before.

Unfortunately the light also made the temptation to look down at his hand almost impossible to ignore. Not that there was even a hand to look at because it was gone, replaced with a bloody stump. The HEV suit’s medical systems had tried to heal it but there was almost so much medical gel could do for a missing hand.

With another whimper, he looked up and stepped out into the hall. “Uh… guys?” His voice croaked, not quite reaching a normal speaking volume. Not that it mattered because there was no response. He was alone.

The door across from him was open, the light on inside. He stepped over and peeked inside. … An experiment room. In the center was said experiment; a metal chamber about the size and shape of a outhouse. Its door hung slightly open, letting out a small stream of smoke. Gordon wanted nothing to do with whatever it might be so he pulled back into the hall.

“Tommy!” He managed to make his voice a bit louder this time. “Dr. Coomer!”

No response. They’d betrayed him so that wasn’t surprising. Or at least Bubby and Benrey and seemed to be actively involved in that considering all their whispered scheming beforehand and being friendly with the military. Tommy and Dr. Coomer might’ve been in on it too though, especially since they’d stood and watched. Hard to say for sure but either way, they weren’t here. Regardless of if only some or all of them had actively betrayed him, they’d all left him for dead.

A bit further down the hall was a health and power station. Oh thank god. He fast walked over to it. “Please, please, please have some juice, please.” It made a sound as he plugged in. “Oh, thank god.”

Immediately the suit started trying to heal his arm again. It couldn’t grow back the lost hand but it did ease the throbbing pain and slow the drip of blood even further until it wasn’t actively bleeding anymore, allowing him to breath and think a bit easier.

His hand was gone though. Chopped off and tossed aside. And a quick check revealed he didn’t have a gun or anything else to defend himself with. Even if he did though his dominant hand was gone so he wouldn’t have been able to do much anyway. He was screwed, wasn’t he? Doomed.

The machine on the wall beeped, indicating he’d drained it. He fumbled at the HEV suit’s collar with his good hand – eh, good hand, more like his only remaining hand because the other one was gone – until he found the button on that side that activated the helmet. A moment later its onscreen display switched on, revealing its power level to be 50% and its medical gel capacity to be at 20%. Hey look at that, even after healing his stump as much as it could, there was still some healing juice left in the suit. Not much but enough that he wasn’t in as bad a shape as he would’ve thought.

Deactivating the helmet, he stepped back and looked around. What was he supposed to do now? … More than before, he wanted to go home. Not that home was even likely intact anymore since the whole facility seemed to be fucked. But right now his only options were to lie down and wait to die alone or pick a direction, start walking, and hope for the best. Naturally he chose the latter.

~

Next Chapter

[goodluckclove]

The thing that's keeping me from writing is pressure from myself. Pressure to write faster. Pressure to write more. Sometimes it's like a vise against my throat that makes me dread writing and makes me do whatever I could to avoid it. Sometimes I meet my own expectations, and that's like a curse in itself, because the hungry monster inside me craves for more. It is never enough. That's toxic productivity for you.

I think I'm getting better at handling it. Getting better at being kinder to myself. Not really looking for advice, just sharing. :3

Yeah man first off - mood. Here's the thing I learned though, and I'm glad you're the first person to bring this up to me because I feel more comfortable being a bit more blunt to you.

So like, toxic productivity does not make your work...better? It just means you have more of it. And eventually you can go back and recraft the initial work you did to make it solid and cool and fun, but at that point you're essentially the car that was swerving through lanes to get ahead faster, only to end up stuck at the same stoplight as everybody else.

I have that monster too, and sometimes it helps to ask it it's motivation. Why is it so hungry? What does it think will happen if you write slower, or stop writing at all for a few days?

It might be that you think if you stop for too long you'll lose the ability to write forever. That's not true but if you think that I don't think I'm the person that can convince you otherwise.

Or maybe it tells you that writing is the most important thing to do in life and nothing else comes close in terms of interest in satisfaction. That's also not true, but that's what my monster tells me so I don't really have any strategies other than ignoring it.

I can tell you from experience, and on a solely practical level, that your monster likely wants you to create at a level that is not physically sustainable. I wrote 220K words in three months making Blind Trust and in that process gave myself tendonitis to the extent where my wife had to open my medication bottles at night.

People see a hardworking writer and they might go yup, that's just how it looks! When I told Wife that they had the full authority to tell me to stop writing whenever I wanted they laughed and told me they would never do that. Then they watched me write for twelve hours straight without eating or getting up to go to the bathroom. This happened multiple times. That's the point where their perspective when from that's just how it looks to oh it seems my spouse has some sort of obsession that might prove to be a problem.

I have pretty bad carpal tunnel because of the amount I write. That's just a thing that develops from repetitive hand motions like typing. I'm supposed to do stretches but those are hard to remember. I'm attempting to get better, but so far the best I can do is remember to break for lunch now.

What I mean to say is, I know drive. Drive will drive you right off a goddamned cliff. Your craft is like a Tesla Cybertruck in that it's a marvel of existence and also it's likely profoundly broken in a few key ways that could get you or someone else killed.

I don't have the kind of advice I have for this like I do other things - but you aren't looking for advice, which is good. I'm mainly using you as a way to reach out to other writers here with similar issues. Because it happens, especially when you start young. Especially when you pick it up quick. But you got to get a handle on it. Otherwise you're one of those guys that says they love that they spent 100k on a truck that's completely inoperable if an issue comes up on the app you need to drive it.

(light roast but it's you rk so i'm assuming you're down for it)

(i love you rk)

[ljandersen]

whats ur status on sideways 👀? No joke i think abt it daily.

Thank you for reaching out, Anon! It means a lot to me, knowing that a story I wrote is thought about every day. I think about it every day, too, being the author! It's still the story I'm proudest to have written.

As for the status on Sideways, it currently exists as a hand-written, rough first draft stored in a fire-proof safe. It needs massive changes -- complete scene rewrites and a ton of new scenes (mostly for the paragon timeline). It's currently on my back burner while I focus on an original project.

All the adjustments I made editing the 750k words in Part 1-4 has culminated in a major undertaking editing Part 5.

For instance, the reason Shepard joins the Alliance on Rannoch is different after my changes in Part 4. Before, I didn't have a very good reason for her being there and, because of that peripheral role, she wasn't directly involved in a lot of the things happening. Now she's acting Counselor. She's front and center.

It's a good change, the right change, which is why I did it. However, now a lot of the plot-centric happenings, which were only heard about or referenced through another character, need full scenes with Shepard being impactful and altering the outcomes (much better than being a removed observer).

This will require several new scenes and throwing out old ones that are now unnecessary. Then I need to relocate any extra bits of vital information not in the new scene, to other places in the story.

In addition to whole new scenes, I need to majorily revise whole scenes. There's a party scene on Rannoch, which now the goal behind it and what Shepard is doing during it, has changed. That series of scenes need rewritten.

That example of Shep's purpose on Rannoch changing scenes downstream is just one -- and a mostly spoiler free one -- of the dozens of changes I need to accomodate.

Also, the paragon timeline in particular requires a lot of new writing, maybe 50 k words of new scenes (so, the equivalent of a full novel).

Toward the end of writing the first draft of Sideways, I was starting to get worn down. Writing four storylines sometimes made it feel like I was spending weeks going nowhere, because I wasn't moving forward in the main Renegade timeline. Because of that frustration and wanting to reach the end, I chose to focus less on the paragon timeline, knowing I would need to add more to it during the editing. I left myself with some major work to do on that storyline to do it justice.

All of those reasons aside, the main reason Sideways Part 5 isn't ready is because I shifted focus for the time being. I'm serializing an original sci fi series and trying to establish myself an author. I intended to do this after I finished posting Sideways, but with the emergence of AI, I don't think the opportunity will be there for me if I wait.

Visibility for writing is going to become impossible and slow human writers, like me, will be washed away under the tide of AI mega production. There's an influential author in the indie world, for example, who has stated his intention to produce 10k novels a year, on par with the big publishing houses. That's one person, who with a handful of contractors previously put out a few dozen books a year, if that many, who now intends to do 10k a year!

My opportunity to find readers is now, while AI is still clunky and not universal, before people selling a back catalog of 100k books and with the ad spending to match drive human writers out of the market.

Because of this new priority, I've had to funnel my creativity and focus into my original writing. I'm not someone who can do two things at once. I'm all in on one project at a time. That's probably apparent from my fanfic, where I've only posted one WIP at a time, start to finish before the next. I can't divide my passion on concurrent WIP.

That doesn't mean I don't think about Sideways though -- I do, daily! -- and I intend to finish it. For now, though, unfortunately, Sideways is a draft in some notebooks in a safe. It's not a simple undertaking to edit it, and I need to focus on a personal goal.

Your interest in Sideways is something I treasure, though, and appreciate beyond words. I'm so glad my story isn't forgotten. I love knowing it's still on readers' minds. It makes me feel like, what had so much meaning to me as its writer, truly must carry that meaning through to the reader, too, which is the greatest joy in sharing a story.

Thank you for taking time to check in on Sideways and for letting me know how much it still means to you.

Also, here is a picture of my new puppy as a tiny consolation for not having Sideways ready: