#keep fanfiction free
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graendoll · 10 months ago
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A number of fanfiction authors are pulling their fics from Ao3 because people are illegally selling bound copies of these fics on etsy.
Pretty sure this hasn't happened to any of my stories. And I have given permission to folks to bind copies for personal use, which is perfectly legal and just and this post does not apply to those situations.
But this needs to be said:
If you are the kind of person who would download something from Ao3....bind it....and sell it on Etsy...you're dead to me.
The fact that people have the balls to take creative works that aren't theirs, that are provided for free to the world because of the joy it brings authors to share their stories with people who love the characters as much as we do, and turn around and sell them for HUNDREDS of dollars is gross and morally corrupt.
And the people who buy these copies, knowing they are putting the entire world of fanfic at risk, are just as bad.
It is ILLEGAL to sell fanfiction. It is immoral to buy it.
Fanfic exists in a liminal space where writers are protected because no money exchanges hands. The greed of a few is going to fuck it up for the rest of us. If you see bound fics for sale, please report the sellers.
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heyjude19-writing · 10 months ago
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Hey - not sure if you're aware but someone is trying to sell a binding of your fic on Etsy for profit - won't let me add the link in the questions but the user is called NovaBindery
Hi, thanks for letting me know, I’m aware there are several sellers on etsy and on instagram, tiktok, their own janky sites, etc. It’s a truly pervasive problem in our community right now.
And I’m tired of it. I’ve been urging people to keep fandom free for a while now, but it honestly feels like screaming at the sea. In the past few days alone, several dramione authors have pulled their works from ao3 and at least one has left the community altogether. 
I’m not going anywhere, nor are my fics, but this abhorrent behavior is extremely disheartening. I started participating in fandom and sharing my writing because it was a fun hobby. So while I won’t be pulling my works, I can say that those who are out here commodifying my stories have made me simply want to participate less. It’s no longer fun if my extremely limited free time is spent reporting shops or fielding questions about commissions. I have lots of stories I’d love to still share, but it’s taking too much of my energy to deal with all this and then I find I no longer feel as inspired to write and share fics. When my stress relieving activity starts to become the source of stress, it’s time to pull back. 
If you are a reader and you do come across these shops, please report them. Unfortunately, I have no other recourse that wouldn’t involve me revealing personal/private information and again, the entire reason I participate in fandom is to have a fun, silly time writing about two idiots kissing and to read others’ stories about the same two idiots kissing. 
I sincerely appreciate all the lovely people who are trying to keep this space as free of monetization as possible. Thank you ❤
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ftlow-writerandbinder · 2 months ago
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This is my contribution to the Harry's Dead Dad Exchange on Instagram, hosted by @Avis Bindery and @moonybinding .
I bound Chained to the Moon by MsAlexWP for Oak.Star.Bindery and I loved every moment of making this fic. It's actually the first fic I ever typeset! (I re-typeset it for this exchange, but it was quite nice to revisit an old friend!)
This fic is a spooky fairytale AU with some horrific elements. It's well written, with lovely characterisation, some old villains, and just a great vibe.
Keys are a recurring theme, so I used a key on the bookmark ribbon and in the typeset footer; moon phases are naturally relevant, so they went in the typeset header, and the end papers and title page; and the vines that I used to separate scenes also relate to the plot. The southern cross constellation appears in the epilogue (spoilers!), and I added it to the typeset at the end and also the back cover. The parts are split with blood drips, and the chapter starts have claw marks in. Basically, I went wild with the halloween horror elements 😬😅
The headbands are hand sewn, but not super well - but it's handmade with love so it won't be perfect 🥰 and the white glitter HTV glows in the dark, which was so fun to add! It cut and weeded beautifully but it was a nightmare to get to stick, especially in the hinge gaps.
*This fic is free to read on AO3. Never buy or sell fanfiction. This bind was gifted as part of an exchange and no money changed hands. Keep fanfiction free.*
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printedgardencreative · 2 months ago
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Too Good at Raising Hell by @the-sinking-ship
Typeset and bound by me, and gifted for free to an exchange partner.
I tried to tap into the “ghost rider” vibe for this Halloween bind since Harry’s the less than straight and narrow, bad boy on a bike.
The homemade bookcloth (fabric from rockerbyedestash) gave me a run for my money when trying to place my chosen cover design, so instead I went all in on the dust jacket, end pages, and toner foiled title page and chapter headers.
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mystical-blaise · 9 months ago
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Please report these on Etsy
I hate people! Also, I'm boycotting Etsy until they get this situation under control. Report this one too:
This is the account in question:
From "Texas" but ships from "Vietnam" and there's a LOT of fanfiction on there!
I've said this before and I'll say it again; fanfiction is a gift economy. It's all done for free. Binding for personal use, or paying someone to bind ONLY for materials used (not time spent) to make them whole is one thing. BINDING AND SELLING FOR PROFIT IS NOT! DON'T BE A DICK! IT'S PEOPLE LIKE THIS THAT'S GOING TO GET AO3 TAKEN DOWN! ALSO, ETSY...WHAT THE FUCK?
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pacific-rimbaud · 2 years ago
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Updated policies on AO3 as of 4/17/2023
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serenergen · 10 months ago
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How to Become Minister (5/?, ~24k words, Explicit)
Summary: Post-war wizarding Britain is struggling and the population is dwindling. It’s 2009 and Hermione Granger is on the fast track to becoming the youngest Minister of Magic. But power in magical Britain is precarious. In a second, Hermione's world comes crashing down. A marriage law is invoked. Hermione must pioneer it or risk everything she has worked for.
One way or another, she would be Minister. She just didn't expect to be doing it with Draco Malfoy at her side.
OR
If no one would let her be Minister, she was going to take it. And Draco Malfoy was going to help her do it.
Start at the beginning
Continue reading from last time (Chapter 4 and 5)…
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anna-pineappel · 1 month ago
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This has been sitting in my Tumblr Drafts for a while, and I'm finally putting my thoughts in on this. Fair warning: this is going to be a long rant of a post, sorry not sorry!
I will NEVER write fanfic for financial gain! Obviously, with fanfiction, I don't own the characters/setting/Source Material, so it would not be wise to put my work behind a paywall. I do have some OC writing content, I was getting back into it earlier this year, then Peace in the Moonlight's prequel, Terror in the Shadows entered the chat and I am now high off of my Crackship StettiHo 😅 ANYWAYS... even if I ever got to the point where I wanted to 'Publish' my OC writing, I would do so on AO3/Tumblr/Google Drive PDF... where no money would be exchanged. I've been told I have potential to write professionally, and while it is very validating and flattering, it is not something I'm interested in, for a number of reasons:
Anytime I decide to make money off a creative endeavor, I almost immediately lose interest in that endeavor. I love writing fanfiction and posting it up on AO3, absolutely. HOWEVER, the moment I write for money and then feel Obligated to do so, I will never write again. This is just how I am.
With money on the table, I feel pressure to perform to standards set out by the person paying me. I will set impossibly high standards for myself and feel like it isn't good enough.
Or I'll feel like I can't write the story I want to, since someone else is dictating the content (i.e. they want a certain pairing, certain characters to be featured). I also feel safe pushing my own comfort levels within my writing when I'm writing for free. (I have learned wayyyyy to much about BDSM practices, the Gestapo/SS... it's a wild ride, okay??)
Life is expensive as is/capitalism/monetizing everything = blegh! I want people to be able to access my writing without having to pay for it. I write because I enjoy it, and it's a piece of my soul I'm baring to the world. You shouldn't have to pay for that!
If you feel compelled to donate money to me/you feel l deserve to be compensated for my writing (or any other writer), may I suggest donating to AO3 instead? It's sites like that that allow me and other writers to share writing in the first place and they are completely run by volunteers! Also, my favourite currency is in the form of kudos and comments... THAT'S ALL I NEED!!!!
Even if you ever did pay me for my writing, somehow, I would just turn around and throw the money at AO3.
Oh and if you're a writer who thinks they deserve to be compensated for writing/have exclusive fics under a paywall/what have you... SO MUCH OF LIFE IS ALREADY MONETIZED... WE DON'T NEED FANFIC WRITING TO BE ONE OF THOSE THINGS!!!!
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The rest of the thread is here.
tl;dr: Don’t monetize AO3, kids.  You won’t like what happens next.
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laylaayman-blog · 9 days ago
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🚨 A mother's cry from the heart of suffering🥺🍉🕊️🇵🇸!
The World is still silent when those eyes speak everything 😔💔!
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Your small donation can provide my children with a better life in these very difficult circumstances 💔😞.
No one can protect them from bombing and death, but your donation can help make their lives a little better by providing for their current needs 🥹💔.
Do not hesitate to help us, we need your support and donations, and if you cannot donate, do not hesitate to spread our story and protect us as much as you can 🙏🇵🇸🕊️🍉.
Vatted by @bilal-salah0 here, and Reblogged by @90-ghost here, and by @a-shade-of-blue here 🕊️🇵🇸!!
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utterlyazriel · 1 year ago
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how long have i searched for you?
azriel finds his mate in the most inopportune time and he convinces himself you haven't sought him out for good reason. he couldn't be more wrong. word count: 4.6k & god bless @strangerstilinski for making this fic ever get written <3
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Though he'd deny it if ever asked, most of all to Cassian, there was a part of Azriel that had spent years upon years yearning for what it would be like when he met his mate.
A chance encounter. A friend of a friend. A shared look across a crowded room, your eyes catching, where you both suddenly just know.
A thousand possible ways to meet, to find each other. Azriel had run every scenario through his head, ten times over, both soothed and aching at the dreadful mixture of hope and doubt he had. With his rotten luck, he was probably doomed to a life without ever finding his mate. If he even had one.
However, in all his years of hoping and wishing, not once could he say that he'd imagined meeting his mate the way he did.
In a flash; a brush up during the battle of Velaris, where you, a healer, had stumbled into his life. There had been only a moment amongst all the chaos, where this deep strong pull had risen in his chest, glowing and hot like he'd never felt before.
His head had snapped around, finding the source in a heartbeat. Everything leading to you.
But it hadn't been the time, no matter that you had clearly felt it too, the glow, the pull, given away with your wide eyes and parted lips. Battle was being sieged on Velaris and despite every instinct in Azriel that roared at him to stay with you, to take you from the danger, he had a duty to fulfill.
And then, even once the battle finished, the war was waged and won, when was there time? Azriel could feel it in him, the yearning that seemed to sing from his very blood — he itched to go find you. However, there was still much to do, still orders from Rhys to carry out, mission and meetings to attend to.
Besides, you hadn't sought him out either.
So, when the chaos calmed finally and he finally had time to breathe, Azriel did not seek you out. He waited. He longed.
But if you wished to stay away and never see him, then Azriel would respect it. He would never impose on your life if you did not wish it, no matter how long he had waited for his mate.
One month of quiet life rolled on.
Today, the weather in Velaris greatly contrasted his state. Exhausted from his mission and a tad more scratched up that he had hoped to be, Azriel feels like a cloud on the city's sparkling sky. He's dirty, half soaked, and probably dripping blood and mud all over the tiles.
Gods, he was tired.
The fly back to the House of Wind had been harder, his landing a little ungraceful due to the slices he bore on his wings. Not the worst of his injuries but still, they throbbed painfully and Azriel felt the rivets of rain and blood trickling along them. His wings gave a little shudder and even his shadows seemed to droop.
"And he returns—" Cassian's voice announced his arrive before his feet had even touched onto the balcony. Upon the sight of his brother, hunched and not his usual self, his tone shifted quickly. "Holy Cauldron, what happened to you?"
Azriel bristled, schooling away his sneer at the thought of the fight he just won. He rolled his shoulders back, biting back his wince at the tenderness of his wounds, and grimaced.
"Same thing that always does, brother."
Cassian frowned, his concern evident with the furrow between his brows. "You're going to see a healer."
His tanned hand gestured to Azriel's drooping wing. His question was more of an instruction. Azriel felt apprehension roll through him, torn between the sweet relief he know would come with having his wounds tended to and the first healer he could think of: you.
He shook the thought away. Nearly two months since he'd first seen you had passed and he found himself infuriated with how his brain seemed intent on taunting him. You pervaded his thoughts just as frequently as you did on that first day, even with your distance.
"Madja does not reside here anymore."
"So?" Cassian pressed. "Gods, I will take you myself if I must."
Azriel huffed. He knew Cassian could make good on his words and as another ache rippled through his back, making every slice on his skin known, he let himself relent. Besides, what were the chances of his healer being you?
"I will go." Azriel replied, straightening up his slumped shoulders. A hint of smugness crossed Cassian's face before he smiled, genuine as he lay his hand on Azriel's shoulder.
"Before you go," Cassian said, beginning to grin. "Did you wipe the floor with them?"
Azriel's lips quirked, a semblance of a smile. He inhaled, preparing himself for one more course of travel before he could rest. "Of course."
The second flight had agony clawing deeper within his wings, a protest with every strong beat of them, as he flew to the Apothecary down amongst the city's heart. The surging pain fought for his attention, like a poison writhing beneath his bones, and Azriel was nearly embarrassed at his hard landing.
It was loud, his boots slamming down into the pavement before the Apothecary, his wings flaring to catch him. He could feel the tremor in his muscles, each leg held taut. He looked up at his destination.
The building before him was a sage green, white trims around each of the windows. Within, through the panes of glass, Azriel could see a healer jump at his sudden entrance. His shadows wisped around him rapidly, as though they might soften his abrupt interruption.
Azriel straightened up, tucking his wings in as he reined himself in. He could feel his emotions boiling up within him, swirling and rising as he peered in the window before him. Apprehension tinged with something he wouldn't acknowledge, something too close to hope.
The glow in his chest was back. You must be near.
Azriel wasn't sure what was winning; the absolute urge to follow the tug on his chest to find the person on the other end of it, or the part of him that would prefer never knowing if you wanted him or not.
The bell above the door jingled quietly as he pushed it open. He was careful to mind his mess, far too aware of how he was tracking half a mountain of dirt in with him. Eyes scanned over each thing in the room, calculating in a way he always was.
Around him, his shadows had gotten zippier, darting about and back to him; as though, they too, could sense the nearness of his mate.
The Fae behind the counter stared, wide-eyed, whether at his shadows or simply himself. Azriel willed them to calm as best he could. They were being unnaturally eager to leave his side.
"Hello," Azriel started, unsure on the proper procedures. He wondered if just gesturing to himself might work. The Fae behind the counter, a fair women with dark hair, seemed to finally shake herself out of it.
"Hello!" She amended her behaviour quickly. Her hand waved behind her, gesturing to the corridor that stretched out behind her. "Let's do something about those wounds. If you head down and take the last door on the left, y/n will be available to get you on the mend."
The name she spoke sent a pang through Azriel and he wondered, he hoped, if a name that beautiful could potentially belong to you. Maybe, he would be better to request someone else, if it was you down the end of the hall. Hesitance kept him rooted to the floor. His eyes sweeping down the hall and back to the Fae woman before him.
"Thank you," He finally murmured. His began walking, passing the counter and heading down the hallway — mindful of his drooping, tired wings that threatened to leave a trail behind him.
Final door on the left. Azriel paused before it, deciding to knock before he entered. He could hear someone inside, bustling around in the space. His knuckles grazed against the door.
"Come in!"
A voice like honey called out, wrapping around him like the softest silk, every nerve in him trilling and burning. Azriel swallowed heavily, knowing who must be on the other side of that door. He should walk back up that hallway. He shouldn't go through this door. He should give you the privacy you so clearly desire.
And yet, the warm glow in his chest urged him forward, urged him closer, and Azriel couldn't resist being selfish. Just this once, just to see you once more. He pushed the door open and slid silently in the room.
You're everything.
Gods, as he laid his eyes on you now, Azriel had to commend himself for ever managing to keep himself from you. You’re ethereal — and the glowing tug on his chest had expanded ten-fold as you turned to face him, every ounce of his being yearning, aching, to be closer to you.
Azriel was a strong man but even he couldn’t help the way his body swayed closer, a ripple passing through his wings subtly. They gave a tiny shake behind him. His shadows seemed to be dancing across his shoulders, gleeful in their wispy movements.
Even his pain had been put aside for this moment — dialed down to barely a twinge as he drunk in the sight of you before him, his eyes scouring your face for every detail he could, lest it be the only time he got to.
Faintly, he felt his lips twitch. His hands curled up at his sides, a minuscule motion. You’re… very beautiful. You’re everything he’s been waiting for — and Azriel is sure that shine of the night sky he adores so reverently is rivaled only by your eyes.
“I—” He remembered himself, the word rasping out before he could stop it. He realised he was not sure what he intended to say. “Forgive me.”
You seem perplexed by his words if the wrinkle between your eyebrows was an indication.
One of his shadows snaked down his arm, flitting out to meet you and Azriel felt himself flush slightly. He called it back sternly and silently — only more embarrassed when it didn’t listen, circling your wrist and tickling its way up your arm.
But there was no apprehension in your face, nor in your laugh which felt like a shot of espresso to his system, as his shadows continued badgering you. Something close to mortification crept up his neck as two more shadows darted out to join the first, curling excitedly around your neck like a lover would.
“My apologies,” Azriel forced his mouth to work. “They are not usually so… misbehaved.”
You waved him off, another laugh tittering from your mouth as a shadow curled over your ear. Surprisingly, whether through some bond or not, he knew that you were not afraid of him in any sense.
Your hand waved him over to the table set up for patients, ushering him over. “That’s alright. You can tell me what I’m to forgive you for as I look over your wounds.”
Azriel didn’t move. His feet felt rooted to the floor, heart turning itself inside out. Did you not know? Could you not feel it? Were you simply sweet enough that you would still tend to him, heal him, even though you knew and had decided to keep your distance?
“I…” He selected his words carefully, watching you closely. “I did not wish to make you see me if it was not on your own terms."
You were setting up your items on a silver tray beside the medical table and when you looked over your shoulder, you seemed confused that he hadn’t moved. You urged him over with a jerk of your chin and a smile that melted through his chest, hot like candle wax.
“Nonsense.” You patted the table invitingly. “C'mon, you’re dripping blood on my floors.”
His politeness had him standing up straighter, wings bunching up as he realised they had begun to drag along the ground. It was the thing that finally got him to move, his feet stepping forward in an instant.
“I’m—”
“Kidding. I was kidding.” You intercept his apology easily, eyes bright.
Something preens within him at how you knew what he would say so soon within meeting him. Azriel took another step and let himself sink down onto the padded table, his wings resting gently around him. Even seeing you, talking to you, is not enough to chase away his fatigue. You hand him a clean cloth to clear the muck from his face and he does so silently.
“Are you fit to remove your leathers?” You asked, your gaze turned analytic as you scanned over his muscled body for his injuries.
Azriel nodded, not trusting his voice. As each piece of armor was pulled off, not a wince in sight, he was surprised at the flustering feeling within him. It was light, just a ball of nervousness, tinged with embarrassment, in his chest — which made no sense. As he pulled the final layer of clothing from his chest, Azriel realised that this feeling wasn’t coming from him.
You were staring as politely as you could, eyes darting around the injuries scattered across his torso but with a nervous flush to you. Your eyes flitted across his chest, once, twice. Barely a glimpse— something that would’ve gone unnoticed if he was not the spymaster of this court.
Azriel couldn’t resist. “Everything alright?”
If he had made voice a tad gruffer than usual, that was between him and the Cauldron.
“Yes.” You smiled at him again and it nearly made him miss the pinch in your voice. Nearly. “Just thinking that if you look like this, I hardly want to imagine the other guys.”
Azriel bit back his smile, only half succeeding in hiding it. It was wiped as you finally stepped closer, examining him properly. A furrow between your brows. Azriel could feel the hot burning want to smooth it out with his thumb, to take your worry from you.
His shadows had slipped further from him, more and more of them following your gentle hands as you skimmed atop his skin, deep in thought. They swirled around your hands, festering where you were nearly touching him, and Azriel desperately willed them to relax. They did not obey.
“The shadows,” He began, already apologetic.
Your eyes flashed to his and then back on the laceration splitting the skin on his shoulder. You pulled one of your hands back, just an inch, focusing on how the shadows followed you. Tiny wisps dancing around your hand, light touches that reminded you of a thousand tiny kisses.
“It’s alright.” You hummed, sweet with a smile. “They’re sort of lovely.”
And if Azriel had felt your momentary fluster, he had no doubt he would be unable to hide the swell of surprise within him.
You finally pulled your hands back, beginning to circle around the table to take a closer look at his wings. Azriel couldn’t repress his shiver at the thought— his mate, so close to something so precious to him. He was torn between emotions; his body buzzing at the thought of your touch and his mind adamant that you wanted to keep your distance for a reason.
“I must say, I have heard of Illyrian wings before,” Your voice breathed over his shoulder, distracted by the view. Without meaning to, Azriel’s wings gave a little twitch. “But never seen them this close. They’re very beautiful.”
Azriel blinked and willed himself to remain neutral even if all his shadows seemed to give him away; their flitterings only increased at your words.
He bowed his head. “Thank you.”
Then there was a soft touch along the leathery skin of his wing, your fingers, tentative and gentle. Azriel swallowed the noise in his throat. His wings gave another involuntary shiver.
“Is it alright to… touch?”
It’s sweet of you to ask even though he’s sure you’ll have no way of healing him if he says no. Azriel steeled himself, forcing himself to remain neutral.
“Yes,” He murmured. The wounds across his torso had already begun to heal themselves, his Fae blood clotting and knitting the skin back together at an achingly slow pace. He was too tired to heal himself properly. He had known his wings would require the most attention.
It was an effort not to jump when your touch returned, tiny fingertips that felt startlingly warm suddenly. Azriel could feel the tendrils of your magic as it poured out through your fingers, a healing salve to the agony of his wings. It felt so good he struggled to not sigh aloud, his scarred hands flexing in his lap.
“You know,” You began, voice quiet. “I was hoping you might seek me out but perhaps, for a less painful reason.”
While Azriel fought to keep his head from snapping around, his shadows did no such thing— all of them jumping from their usual hiding place. He swatted at them, mortified at how revealing they seemed to be in your presence.
Still, there was no battling away the kernel of hope that sat deep in the pit of his stomach, mixed tightly with disbelief.
Another touch along his wings, another warming healing glow. Azriel cleared his throat and fought to keep his voice even.
“You were… waiting for me?”
Gods, he couldn’t have sounded more pathetic if he tried. But his head was spinning, the glowing pull on his chest tightening, the kernel growing larger and larger. You were waiting for him, you were waiting for him.
“Of course, why would I not be?”
“I…” He had never been so lost for words in all his centuries of living. Never sure how deep the rift within him ran, a part of him convinced that the reason he had not found a mate in all his time was because he had not deserved one.
“I did not want to impose on you, I know that not all—”
It was all coming out wrong. Azriel reined in his rampant emotions, the swirling of his shadows dimming for a moment. Your hands had paused their ministrations on his wings, listening intently. He couldn’t bear to turn to face you as he spoke.
“I wanted to give you space to decide yourself. To leave the decision in your hands. Because I would understand if—”
He cut himself off with a sharp inhale. Voicing it, suggesting the possibility of you hoping and waiting for a mate all your life, just as he did, only to be disappointed that discover it was him— he couldn’t say it aloud.
He was sure you must be able to feel his fear and clamped his mental shields down as tight as he could. He would not guilt you into this.
“I can see why the Mother made us mates.” You mused after a moment.
Azriel nearly shuddered at the word, at you referring to him at your mate so casually— a yawning chasm of want spreading over his entire body. Gently, slowly, your hands began to work again.
“Here I was,” you continued, voice light and hands warm. “Thinking that, maybe, the shadowsinger had his duties and would come find me if he wished. And that I would understand if he never came to find me at all.”
This time, Azriel could not resist turning around to see your face. His heart ached terribly to hear what you had thought. His shadows spun around his shoulders and as he turned, they twisted and ran for you.
“No,” He said severely. He couldn’t help the way he shook his head, like a petulant child but you were just so wrong. “No, I— I’m sorry, I never meant for you to think— please forgive me.”
Despite his evident distress, you smiled easily with a little shake of your head. “There is nothing to forgive. It would be, well, almost hypocritical if I let you apologise for doing the same thing I did to you.”
Amongst his relief, Azriel felt his chest pulse in adoration, a smile forming on his lips. Twisted back on the table, your hands mending along his wings, the thing he’d wanted for — had spent so many years envisioning — finally finding him. He would not have it any other way.
“I’ve waited for you for five hundred years.” He croaked.
Your eyes widened a fraction and you blinked owlishly at him for a moment as his words sunk in.
“Well,” You chuckled somewhat awkwardly. Azriel could feel the nervousness radiating off you in waves. “I hope after that all that waiting it wasn’t too underwhelming—”
“It wasn’t.” He interrupted. “It isn’t. You’re…”
It was an effort to restraint himself — to not be too much, too soon.
“Despite the knots we both seemed to tie ourselves in,” He huffed a silent laugh, melting as you relaxed too. “Please believe me when I say I would not have it anything other way.”
You glowed, a sweet emotion singing from you so loudly that Azriel couldn’t not feel it. You hadn’t accepted the bond yet and still… he could feel the strong emotions as they rippled through you. Joy. He was so happy that it was joy, more than anything else. His shadows seemed to be split between the two of you, protecting you as much as they did himself.
Then suddenly, your eyes widened again, as if another thought had occurred to you.
“Wait a minute, five hundred years?” You repeated his words back to him with an air of disbelief. “You’re an old man!”
His laugh escaped him before he could capture it, entranced at your delightful quick wit. Your eyes were bright, your pretty mouth pulled into your smile.
The ache in his wings had dulled almost completely and Azriel absentmindedly noticed you had managed to heal up the majority of his wounds during your conversation. They fluttered appreciatively and your eyes darted back down to them.
“Is that to be a problem?” He teased lightly.
Your obvious flustering pooled off you, sliding down along the bond even as he felt you desperately trying to curb it. Even then, you couldn’t resist another glimpse at his toned back.
He certainly didn’t look like an old man— not with the taut tan muscles of his back, his large biceps, nor his handsome young face. His hazel eyes watched playfully as you allowed yourself one long look over him.
“Nope,” you said decisively, pressing down your grin. You held your hands up defensively, as if it would aid your point. “No problems here.”
Your footsteps were light as you rounded the table to face him from the front, your healing job completed. For a quiet moment, Azriel could only stare — holding his breath, waiting.
He schooled away any thoughts of how much it would hurt to part from you, now that he had finally found you, and spoke again.
“It doesn’t have to be now.” He said, hazel eyes fixed on your own. He made sure his emotions were unwavering, that you would not feel swayed to spare his feelings. A shadow skittered across your shoulder.
“I want you to be sure. I would never want you to feel as though you had no choice. We— I can wait, I have waited years for you, I can—”
His words were smothered in his own breathy gasp as you reached out, one finger trailing across the peak of his wing. Something like pure desire shot down his spine and he did everything in his power to hold in his growl.
“Something told me that would get you to stop talking.” You said, with a hint of teasing.
A seriousness flicked across your face, settling into your expression as you took in the male before you, your mate — and you could feel his want, the enormity of his yearning trickling down the bond— and yet, you knew that he would walk away from it in a second if you asked him to.
You had no intention of doing any such thing.
“While you may have me beat on the waiting,” You said softly. It didn’t feel right when you’ve only just met him to reach out, but the urge swims within you anyways.
You reached out to touch his face, your hand as soft and warm as a sunbeam on his skin.
“I do not wish to extend that waiting for any longer, my mate.”
Your words had an instant effect, a shudder that passed across his face, eyes fluttering, the flick of his wings spreading out and forwards, as though reaching for you. You kept your hand steady.
Azriel allowed himself to lean into your touch. Allowed every feeling to flow down the warm tug in his chest, over the bridge that kept him inexplicably connected to you — overwhelming bouts of relief, of love, all of it unrestrained. And he could feel you on the other end, meeting it all with the softest, kindest assurance.
“Can…” He murmured, nearly embarrassed. He would have been if you were looking at him any way other than completely adored. His shadows had finally slowed, soft caressing motions along your shoulders and neck. He dared to ask. “Would you say it once more?”
You smiled, brighter than the sun and softer than moonlight, unable to resist your temptation to get nearer to him. You inched closer, letting yourself breathe in the scent of him greedily, knowing he was doing the same. Both of you desperate to memorise each other, despite knowing you had forever to come.
Your nose brushed his and you nuzzled against it gently, eyes sliding closed. Azriel released a shaky breath, his scarred hands clenching tightly in his lap, terribly overwhelmed in a way he’d never been before. If you had peeked over his shoulder, you might have seen the slight quiver in his wings.
“Azriel,” you whispered. “My mate.”
The shadows around both of you suddenly laid down very still, as if they had encountered a feeling within their master that had not yet before; a calming tranquility. The moment lingered as you let your words sink in, watching his closed eyes. You let yourself steal this moment with him.
“Though,” you pulled back from him, watching his hazel eyes open again. The shadows around him picked up, lazily flitting around. “If you want to get all cleaned up before dinner, you best head home soon.”
“Dinner.” Azriel repeated, the smallest scrunch between his eyes.
You stepped back from him, smoothing your hands down your front almost nervously— but no, it was closer to excitement, he realised.
“Dinner, yes.” Azriel said, catching on, his wings flaring out for just a moment. You grinned, endeared entirely by all his little tells despite his apparently stony demeanour. You could see him beneath it, the soft kind Male that the Mother had made for you.
“It would be an honour.” He added seriously, finally getting to his feet, preparing to leave. You ached at the thought — but more of you preened, knowing you would see him not long after. His seriousness made you laugh.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re kinda intense?”
Azriel smiled, his shadows moving more deftly now. “And yet, never has it sounded so sweet as it does coming from you.”
You flushed and it was made entirely worse by the chuckle you felt down his end of the bond. You jabbed him in the shoulder, a bit miffed when he didn’t sway in the slightest.
“Alright, no more mud on my floors.” You ordered, faux serious as you pointed to the door. “I will see you later tonight.”
“Promise?” He asked, once more to check— but mostly to see that elated grin he was already falling in love with.
“I swear on my mate." You promised back, delighted when he grinned — properly, teeth and all — and you stole one final glance at your forever as he disappeared out the door.
part two here
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heyjude19-writing · 11 months ago
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hi fandom folks: I'd like to explicitly state that I no longer allow binding my fics for commission. No money should be exchanging hands where my stories are concerned.
My full transformative works policy is here. Thank you in advance for respecting my wishes and keeping fandom free.
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ftlow-writerandbinder · 4 months ago
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Helix by Saras_Girl for the #slytheringuysandschoolsupplies exchange. It's an eighth year Drarry which is far more Christmassy than I realised on first reading but it's cute and lends itself so well to being turned into a textbook! No author is mentioned in the fic so I did a Wizarding World deep dive to find an appropriate magizoologist to name. I chose the colours for the frosty weather. The endbands are handsewn with a far-too-thin embroidery thread, so they're deliberately scruffy, and my second time using faux leather was no easier than the first, so there are no real hinges or neat corners 😅 still, I loved making this. My first affinity typeset (cut a little too close at the edges, first guillotine trouble), first time foiling the chapter headers, and first proper group exchange 💙 it made it safely across the pond to my recipient! I loved packing up the parcel with some extra goodies, it made me very happy 🥰
This fic is available to read free of charge on AO3. Permission was sought from the author to bind the fic. Keep fanfiction free!
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printedgardencreative · 6 months ago
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Yes, Professor by WriteItForMe - bound by yours truly for the #OutofYourComfortZoneExchange
I had so much fun with this book! It’s by far the largest textblock I have ever worked with and so many other firsts. I’m so pleased by how it came out!!
Front Cover art by @popcornhee
Back Cover / Endpage Art by san.art.studio
This fic can be read for free on AO3.
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mystical-blaise · 8 months ago
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I reported the Etsy account, but I thought you should know all of the acotar fanfics including yours still show available for purchase for me. I’m not sure if they re-listed or what
https://www.etsy.com/listing/1704282823/a-court-of-whispers-and-song-by?ref=share_v4_lx
SON OF A ....
Well, they WERE deleted for a day or so. Thanks for bringing this back to my attention.
Okay, everyone, you know what to do. REPORT FOR SELLING FANFICTION AND FOR SELLING THINGS WITH STOLEN ART ON THE COVERS:
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justaz · 7 months ago
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merlin told arthur his favorite color was the color of the sky during sunset when it shifted into a deep violet. arthur gets a tunic made in that exact shade. its the best thing merlin owns. arthur was hoping that would mean he’d wear it almost everyday but merlin almost never wears it. the only time he does wear it is when royals come to visit (which isn’t all that often). arthur “subtly” asks about it and merlin is like “it’s the best thing i own. i’m not gonna dirty it mucking out the stables or serving rowdy knights wine while they splatter food on it” and arthur is like “why not wear it when nobles come to visit? look at least a little presentable for them” (cough nice save). merlin doesn’t see the point in it bc nobles don’t care about him at best, view him as less than human at worst.
arthur really just wants to see his boyfriend servant in the tunic he had made for him (bonus points for sending a message that merlin is his. not that merlin seems to notice. man is too much of an idiot). merlin wants to preserve his favorite tunic and gift from his boyfriend king.
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collophora · 6 months ago
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Fics rec of the week, and especially if you like well-written Wrecker, is the entire work of @electrikworm on AO3 In order:
The Batch have a terrible day
Human Shield
A peaceful moment
(But go read the others too)
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