#let’s hope I can stave off art block long enough to keep this going

[knkd-doodles]

I’ve been trying to get back into drawing the guy so here’s some goofy screenshot redraws

(Full page under cut)

[moonflowerlesbians]

6. with dani and jamie would be so cute 🥺 like a lil vermont winter fic

for you, anon! I altered the wording ever so slightly, but the concept is identical. I hope you enjoy :)

you can also read on AO3

~~~

Their flat is located a few streets off from the center of town, close enough to walk but far enough to provide a sense of distance from the bustle of the main drag. Tonight, they set out just after sundown to ensure good seats to what Dani has affectionately dubbed, “the greatest holiday spectacular to ever grace the streets of Bennington,” and what Jamie has deemed, “an entirely American embarrassment.”

It’s their third winter in Vermont, and this year, The Leafling has generously sponsored half of Bennington High School’s Marching Seahorses’ winter uniforms in exchange for a full page ad in their concert programmes for a year and a sign carried at the front of the annual holiday parade. Or, rather, the kids had come to the shop with instruments, a flyer, and an unrehearsed elevator pitch, and Dani had been utterly charmed.

“It’s good to see them so passionate about something,” Dani had said.

Jamie had hummed and had continued tending to her sprouts.

“It would be good publicity,” Dani’d argued.

“Most expensive advertisement of my life.”

“Come on, they’re cute.”

“‘Cute’ doesn’t keep the lights on, Poppins.”

Unfortunately for Jamie, Dani has an irritating way of getting what she wants. And that’s how their small business ended up shelling out an ungodly amount of cash for an extracurricular named after the least fearsome sea creature Jamie can think of.

They don’t even have legs for Christsake.

But, the sheer delight on Dani’s face upon Jamie’s concession softened her heart. In any case, Dani made certain to thank her thoroughly and, ah, enthusiastically, that evening.

Jamie begins to regret her decision, now, as she’s dragged from her cozy flat into the absolutely frigid night air. She’s bundled in her warmest coat, a toque tucked over her ears to stave off the cold, but she swears she’s still going to catch frostbite.

Dani, meanwhile, wears a fleece-lined denim jacket over top one of her many cable-knit jumpers and insists she’s overheating. She carries a blanket under her arm, the other linked with Jamie’s, as she all but skips down the street.

“The English couldn’t handle a Midwestern winter. This is nothing,” she had said.

She’s always loved Christmastime, Jamie has come to learn. Dani has regaled her with seemingly endless stories about stringing popcorn and cranberry garlands, baking biscuits with Judy O’Mara, and breaking the occasional ornament decorating the tree. She’d felt awful about that last one, terrified to tell Mrs. O’Mara. She went on to explain in touching detail how Mrs. O’Mara had taken her hand and reminded her that it was just a bauble.

It made Jamie wonder how often Dani got into trouble for accidents in her home. A question for a later date.

As they near Main Street, the sound of jovial chatter and the unmistakable carolers grows louder. The shops they pass have festive window displays, elves in stockings of red and green reading storybooks or sledding down white fabric hills. Dani blows right past, determined to reach her carefully preselected place on the sidewalk. In what Jamie is convinced must be sub-zero temperatures, she can’t imagine the winter festival will be a popular destination.

She soon finds she is mistaken, however, when they round the corner and encounter a throng of people. The road has been blocked off at either end, and families drift in and out of the shops. Some skate on the temporary ice rink set up to the side. The lights lining the trees reflect prettily off the storefronts, the branches arching up and over the street. It would be like something out of a fairytale had the weather not been turning Jamie’s hands to icicles.

Dani is very proudly pointing to a square on the sidewalk out in front of the coffeehouse, and before Jamie is entirely sure what’s happened, she’s sitting on their too-small tartan picnic blanket over pavement that is far too cold on her arse. Dani is warm at her side, and they’re pressed close, using the size of their blanket as an excuse to disregard social acceptability.

“How long until this thing starts?”

Dani checks her wristwatch. “Thirty minutes, I think?”

“Fuckin’ freezing.”

The apparent mother of three standing nearby shoots them a glare.

“Jamie…” Dani gives an apologetic look, but the woman is already herding her children off in the direction of an arts and crafts booth.

“You know, if we were home, I’d wager we’d find a proper way to warm up.” She gets a sharp elbow to the ribs for that one and lets out a muffled oomph, though she wryly notes the new flush to Dani’s cheeks.

“Hot chocolate? I’ll go find us hot chocolate. I’m pretty sure there was a table supporting the junior high theatre department.”

“S’long as you’re not making it.” But Dani is already halfway down the block.

Then, Jamie is alone, freezing her arse off while waiting to see a mediocre high school marching band play in ungodly weather to make her partner happy. It’s the kind of domesticity she could never quite envision for herself. She’s come to find she’s, somewhat begrudgingly, fond of it.  

Bells jingle, the sound echoing off of low brick buildings. Red ribbon bows hang from lamp posts and doorknobs and rubbish bins, with tails that swing in the breeze. The air is crisp; it blows down from the mountains and feels like a fresh start.

Dani returns with two styrofoam cups, passing one off to Jamie, and sits with her knees to her chest.

Jamie eyes the pale brown liquid skeptically before taking a cautious sip.

“Dani,” she says, “why have you handed me cocoa-flavoured water?”

Dani grins sheepishly. “The kids may have made it.”

“I should applaud you, really. You’ve managed to find the one demographic worse at brewing than you.”

“Rude.”

Jamie receives another jab to the side, nearly sending her drink sloshing onto her lap.

“Hey, now, keep that up, and we’ll end the night in the emergency ward.”

“Oh, please, you’ve got enough layers on to stop a bullet.”

“You laugh now, but just wait ‘till we’ve been sitting here for hours.”

“Shh,” Dani interrupts, “it’s starting!”

A dozen or so children in leotards and tight buns dance down the street, followed by a horse-drawn vehicle painted cherry red, in which a larger man dressed as Saint Nicholas stands, waving at the assembled crowds.

Dani’s excited grip on Jamie’s bicep silences any snide remarks she might have made about the quality of performance. Dani’s eyes shine with glee, and it’s so lovely, the few silver strands of her hair capturing the twinkling holiday lights, that the words die in Jamie’s throat. She allows herself to fall into the spirit of the thing, content to sit beside Dani in the corner of life they’ve carved out for themselves. Even if that means listening to a rather shoddy trombone rendition of “Jingle Bells.”

Sure enough, though, heading off the band, a handful of students bear a banner proclaiming the high school’s name and the season’s sponsors. There, listed below the bakery, is The Leafling. Jamie feels a flash of pride. Somehow, seeing their little shop represented for the town to see feels real, grounding, in a way she can’t explain. They’ve found a place, a rhythm, to settle. They’ve left their mark on this town tradition and become a part of something. It feels like home.

So, perhaps she cheers a bit louder when the musicians pass them. This earns her an amused smile from Dani, at which she rolls her eyes.

It’s a relatively short parade. There are only so many volunteer organizations, churches, and youth groups in the town, after all. Jamie’s legs are stiff when she finally stands and offers a hand to help Dani up. Her arms are wrapped around herself.

“Cold?”

“No,” Dani says, “Come on, we should look at booths before we head home. Support the other local businesses.”

They wander the various tables, some offering wares, some business cards, some consultations, dipping in and out of shops until a sniffling noise catches Jamie’s attention. Dani not-so-subtly swipes at her nose.

“You alright?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just-- fine.”

Jamie raises an eyebrow, trying to catch Dani’s eye, but she seems determined to look everywhere except Jamie. “You want my jacket?”

“I told you I’m not cold.”

“Right, ‘course not. Just positively shivering from excitement, then, are you?”

“Mhm.”

“No need to be brave on my account, Poppins, I won’t tell the world your secret.”

“And what secret is that?” Dani’s hands are tucked into her sides.

“That Dani Clayton, certified Midwesterner, can’t hash a brisk Vermont evening.” Her voice drops to a whisper, “Isn’t even snowing.”

“Hey,” Dani protests.

“Just take my jacket.”

“I’m fine.”

“Poppins.” Her tone is playful, a warning disguised as a tease.

Dani’s sighs. “Fine.”

“Ah, that’s a girl.” Jamie shrugs out of her top layer, draping it delicately over Dani’s shoulders. “Come on, then, can’t have you turning to ice on my watch.”

“You said something earlier about the proper way to warm up at home…”

“Was talking ‘bout a good cuppa,” Jamie smirks, “Why? D’you think of something else?”

Dani grumbles. “Tease.”

“Mhm,” Jamie murmurs, pressing her cold nose to Dani’s neck the instant they were out of sight, causing a squeal. “You like it.”

“Shut up.”

[s-horne]

17. “You promised me a cookie” (Steve/Tony)

“Tony!”

Tony startled when he heard his name being yelled across the quad. He looked around and saw a tall, blond man looking around him as he shouted.

“Tony, come here!”

What had he done? Did he even recognise that guy? Tony didn’t think he had seen that man before, but then again he’d been up for about 30 hours and he didn’t know what he knew anymore. When the man shouted his name again, he figured he had to know him. Why else would the guy be screaming at him?

Maybe there was a study group that Tony was meant to be at or something along those lines. Or he could have skipped a lecture with a quiz or there might be a reading discussion he’d forgotten he was meant to be at. He wouldn’t be surprised, but Pepper was very good at letting him know where he was supposed to be. Especially if he was meant to be running said discussion or handing out the quizzes to his class. It was kind of important for him to be at those sorts of things.

With a sigh, Tony collected himself and headed over to the still-shouting man. Time to face the music.

“You looking for me?”

The man jumped half a mile in the air when Tony sidled up to him and spoke.

“Sorry?” he asked slowly.

“You called for me,” Tony said slowly.

The man’s brow furrowed in confusion and he narrowed his eyes. “No, I didn’t?”

“Oh.”

Damn, Tony was tired. If he was hearing things then he definitely needed sleep. It didn’t usually get to that stage until about the 40th hour mark. With that thought, Tony garbled an apology and gathered himself to begin heading home again, back across the quad towards the bus stop.

“Tony!”

That was definitely his name that time, no doubt about it. Tony whirled around again and narrowed his eyes at the man. There was just no way that that wasn’t his name and he was the only guy near at such a late hour on a Tuesday. So, by that logic, this man must be calling out to him.

“Tony, seriously. This isn’t funny. Come here, boy. I’ll give you a cookie.”

He tried! He’d gone over there once and he was told to leave. What more could he do? Tony sighed and rubbed his hand over his forehead in an attempt to stave off the oncoming headache. One last try and he was going to go home and bury himself in his bed, forgetting about life for the foreseeable future.

“Hey!” Tony started walking again, lifting his hand and waving at the man. “What do you want?”

The man squinted at him as though Tony was the crazy one. “Excuse me?”

“You keep shouting my name,” Tony said, throwing his arm out in explanation. “You keep telling me to come to you and when I do, you tell me to go away!”

“And what exactly is your name?”

Tony lifted his eyebrows and crossed his arms across his chest. “You know what my name is; you’ve said it enough times.”

“Your name is ‘Tiny’?”

Tony’s words failed him and he snapped his mouth shut, the fight draining out of him as he squinted. “Wait, what?”

“Tiny,” the guy said with a badly disguised smile. He held up a dog-lead and shook it lightly. “My dog. He ran off earlier when my best friend was walking him, but he knows the campus pretty well so I figured he’d be around here somewhere. I often sit with him by the art block; it’s basically our second home. They let him in when I’m teaching because he’s so docile.”

The guy shrugged and gave a small laugh. “In fact, I’m pretty much willing to bet I’m going to find him being spoilt with treats and pets by the live-drawing class on the first floor. My dog, that is, not my best friend.”

Tony could feel a blush beginning to form and he swallowed. “So you were saying… Tiny?”

“I was. Am I right to assume your name is Tony?” the man asked, amusement flooding his tone and his smile growing. “I guess that they could sound quite similar.”

Tony pressed his lips together as his cheeks flamed a bright red. He nodded minutely and shifted on the spot.

“When was the last time you slept, Tony? Because I have a feeling it was quite a while ago.”

“Yeah,” Tony ran his hand down his face, both in an attempt to wake himself up and a way to hide his blush, “I couldn’t tell you, to be honest. I’m swamped with a project.”

“Well, far be it for me to dictate how you live your life, but maybe you should try and make some time for a nap.”

Normally Tony would hate to be told what to do or how to live his life and would have snapped back with a scathing comment, but there was something sweet about this man. His voice was very kind and his smile warm, not judgmental or mocking at Tony’s expense. Tony appraised him for a long moment, feeling something stirring in his stomach and a flush staining his cheeks for a whole new reason.

“I’m Steve, by the way.”

Tony took the offered hand and shook it quickly. It was time to try and take control of the situation, he told himself as he gave a small smile in return. “Well, nice to meet you Steve. I hope you find Tiny where you think he is, but before you go, I do believe that you promised me a cookie.”

Steve’s mouth quirked up again, his eyes bright and dancing. “I promised my dog a cookie,” he corrected, slinging the dog lead around his shoulders and tugging on each end as he looked down at Tony.

“I don’t think dogs are allowed to eat cookies,” Tony said, his own smile only growing and his voice deepening, “I’m pretty sure I should have his, to be safe.”

“These are dog cookies. I mean, you’re more than welcome to have one, but I don’t rate them for humans.”

“Oh.” Tony knew a rejection when he heard one. Even if it took him a few times to get it through to his sleep-deprived brain. Of course there was no way this Adonis was going to be in to Tony, especially after a lab-binge like the one he’d just had. “Okay-”

“But I’ll happily buy you a human-friendly one from the coffee shop on the other side of campus,” Steve continued, one corner of his mouth a little higher than the other as if he knew exactly what he was doing to Tony. “If you’re free, that is. You do look a little like you could do with a good night’s sleep.”

Tony couldn’t help his smile. “That I could.”

“You do know the coffee shop by the library?”

“I do.” Tony hid a yawn behind his hand as he nodded. “I’m a frequent visitor – one of my students has the morning shift four times a week so I can usually persuade him to throw a few extra shots into my espressos that normal places wouldn’t do. They claim it’s ‘unhealthy’.”

Steve let out a laugh at Tony’s air quotes. “Well, Tiny loves their dog-friendly pastries. But they do human-friendly ones too, if you want to meet there on, say, Tuesday morning?”

Tony’s heart skipped a beat. He hoped a good night’s sleep would sort out that sort of nonsense, though when he looked at Steve’s bright smile again, Tony didn’t think that it would. “It’s a date.”

[esselley]

' "Are we—safe?" Hinata whispered. He hardly cared. Even if danger was imminent, he couldn't have looked away from the sight in front of him.

"Yes," Kageyama said. "They won't notice us. We're not… important enough."

And that made sense, Hinata thought, that they were as insignificant to the moving mountains as they were to the ice itself.'

--

The land is dark and cold, child, so  brave it with a soul that sees its beauty.

Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio Additional Tags: Inspired by Studio Ghibli, Fantasy, Snow and Ice, Enemies to Friends, Bonding, Long Journey, Developing Feelings

I wrote this fic for the HQ Ghibli Zine as a collaboration with @ainu​ and we’re super excited to finally post our pieces! You can read it at the link above on AO3, or here on Tumblr below the cut. And Ainu’s awesome cover art is here!

While the original project is no longer happening as planned, we’re compiling works by all participants over on @hq-ghibli-zine​! Check it out for more Ghibli Goodness <3 (Seriously, everyone’s stuff is magical.)

If enough of a life was spent upon the ice, the cold became its own kind of warmth.

So went the old saying of the people of the ice.

Each tribe across the land, be they wanderers or village dwellers, kept with them one special torch to stave off the cold, one that would always stay bright, and never burn low. The flame could light any kindling, and would only be extinguished if a lesser flame touched it, one not of the sacred fire.

These torches had been lit by the Eternal Flame, located far across the ice. Few dared attempt the long and lonely trek to reach it, but the fire was part of each tribe's long history, and if, by chance, it were to go out, the journey would have to be made as recompense.

But one year, during an annual gathering of the tribes, it happened that two torches were extinguished. And so, as tradition dictated, they must be taken across the ice to bring back the fire again—to the far reaches of the land, into the unknown wilderness.

"How could this have happened?"

The question was directed at two boys, of different tribes, yet currently befallen by the same circumstances: Kageyama, a wanderer, and Hinata, a villager.

They each held the darkened remnants of their tribe's sacred torch, and though both insisted the other was at fault, their stories amounted to the same thing—someone had pushed, someone had shoved, and the torches had fallen, into the enormous bonfire pit of manmade flames that warmed the hall used for tribal gatherings.

Now the nomads and the small fishing village had lost their sacred fires, and there was only one way to reclaim them.

"He'll slow me down," Kageyama said, glaring in Hinata's direction. "He's never even left the village. I can take both torches, and be back within—"

"It is the two of you who doused the Flame," said his elder, "and as you are both of age, it is the two of you who must rekindle it."

And Hinata, whose dream it had always been to see more of the ice than the snowfall across the tops of the village houses, balled his hands into fists and glared right back at Kageyama.

"You'll be trying to keep up with me," he declared.

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Kageyama sneered.

But neither of them had any idea of the journey that lay ahead.

Hinata had thought he understood cold.

He had grown up in it, after all, or so he'd believed. But true cold was different. There were no warm halls out on the wild ice. There were no lit torches, pinpricks of light breaking the blanket of never-ending dark. True cold found his bones, and seeped inside them, with no intent to ever get back out. He couldn't understand something so harsh and unforgiving.

But Kageyama did.

Hinata couldn't help but feel this was because the other boy was so harsh and unforgiving himself. When the wind howled, he would bark rough orders to Hinata, to keep up, to keep moving. This was easier said than done—after barely a day of walking, Hinata's limbs had begun to ache from the unrelenting chill.

The only time they stopped was during the few scant hours of daylight, when it was warm enough they needn't worry about freezing to death from the period of inactivity. The small tent they had barely blocked the wind and the cold. While the sun was up, they could also see far enough through the swirling snow to keep watch.

Kageyama always sat with his wooden bow across his knees, arrow notched, peering out into tundra, or into the forest of tall trees at their backs. Hinata had yet to keep from falling asleep on one of his watches—at the end of every shift, he found himself being woken by Kageyama's furious voice.

Despite the misery, still they kept on.

"I don't want it," Hinata told Kageyama one bleak dawn, when Kageyama rationed out portions of the dry, tough, salted fish they'd been eating for days on end. Today, Hinata could barely stand to look at it.

Kageyama stared at him impassively, and then shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said. "I'll eat your share."

Hinata wrapped his arms around himself and shivered, angrily. They were both partially at fault for being made to cross the ice, yet Kageyama acted like Hinata had dragged them out there himself.

"Still think it's that easy to live out here?" Kageyama asked him.

"I never thought it would be easy," Hinata snapped at him, teeth chattering. His jaw ached, from how hard they clacked together, or else from clenching them in an effort to stop. "I just wanted to know what it was like. What's so wrong with that?"

"I could have done this faster if they hadn't sent you," Kageyama grumbled.

"Well, they did," Hinata said. "And I'm not going anywhere, so you better get used to it." Kageyama blinked at him in surprise and Hinata scowled. He was too tired to argue, but he wasn't going to let Kageyama say whatever he wanted, either. "Give me the fish."

Kageyama raised an eyebrow. "I thought you weren't hungry."

"I'm not," Hinata said, holding out his hand. "But if I don't eat, this'll be harder, won't it?" When Kageyama passed him his food, he bit into it viciously, forcing it down his throat. They finished the meal in silence.

When they began to walk again, it seemed as though Kageyama turned to look over his shoulder in Hinata's direction, more and more. And so, tired as he was, Hinata pushed, and pushed himself, and managed not to fall behind.

Soon, he had grown more used to the pace Kageyama set, and they walked side by side beneath the snowfall.

Then one twilight, as the sun quickly faded from the violet sky, Kageyama woke Hinata before it was time to get moving.

"It's not dark yet," Hinata mumbled, too sleepy and almost warm to be properly angry.

But the next moment he felt a vibration shake the earth beneath his body, and then another, and another—unceasing tremors, and he sat up, suddenly very awake, looking wide-eyed at Kageyama.

Kageyama tugged Hinata up off the ground before he could ask any questions, yanking him through the flap of the tent, to look out across the ice. Hinata clung to his arm, stunned at the sight before him.

"That's…" he stammered, awestruck. "Are those—"

"Icewalkers," Kageyama said softly.

There were massive, four-legged creatures, traversing the ice. Towering over the ground, even taller than the enormous tundra fir trees the tribe felled to create their huge halls back home. Atop each of their heads were bleached white antlers, intricate cages of bone, spanning dozens of feet across, stretching up toward the sky.

Hinata had heard stories of Icewalkers from the elders, but no one could ever agree on a description. But now that he saw them with his own eyes, he knew that the eerie, awe-inspiring sight before him would defy any description anyone could ever give.

Their coats were white, their legs too long and thin compared to the rest of them, though close up they must each have been the size of tree trunks. Their hoof falls were causing the shaking, and a deep, thunderous rumble so low Hinata felt more than heard it, vibrating through his entire body.

"Are we—safe?" Hinata whispered. He hardly cared. Even if danger was imminent, he couldn't have looked away from the sight in front of him.

"Yes," Kageyama said. "They won't notice us. We're not… important enough."

And that made sense, Hinata thought, that they were as insignificant to the moving mountains as they were to the ice itself.

One of them called out into the quiet night. Hinata jumped, clutching Kageyama's arm tighter at the sound of the long, echoing wail. One cry was joined by many, as the other Icewalkers responded, their calls filling the air—some of their moans were high and piercing, where others hummed low like deep horns blowing across the ice. For all their size, their voices were gentle, yet sad. The call made Hinata's heart ache.

"Bet you haven't seen anything like that near the village," Kageyama said. But it wasn't a taunt.

Hinata shook his head slowly. "Do you see them often?" he asked, as they watched the figures continue on across the land. Their immense strides carried them away quickly, though their sheer size made them appear to move incredibly slow.

"No," Kageyama said. "And I've never been this close."

Hinata glanced at him for just a moment—and he saw something as shocking as the sight of the Icewalkers themselves.

Kageyama was smiling. It was small, hard to see, but it was there, and his eyes were bright in the sun's last rays.

Hinata turned back to watch the beasts. "I've never seen anything so amazing," he said softly.

They kept watching until it was too dark to make out even the giant silhouettes, receding on the horizon.

The land was filled with wonders.

Though nothing could hope to top the Icewalkers in Hinata's mind, each day they ventured farther seemed to bring something new and beautiful.

Some nights the sky turned green and purple and incandescent blue, a river of light that wound its way through the stars. Kageyama told Hinata that these were the South Lights, though he had no explanation for them.

Then there was Kageyama himself. After the Icewalkers, his initial abrasive nature had begun to chip away. If Hinata was being generous, he might go so far as to say the other boy had become warmer, though he had odd ways of showing it.

He brought down a small elk with his bow one day during the sunlit hours, and Hinata was roused by the sound of clanging pans and the smell of cooking meat.

"Got lucky," Kageyama said, as Hinata was drawn hypnotically to the small fire and the allure of fresh food. "With all the wind, I wouldn't have been able to hit anything even if I could see through the snow. But it let up today." He was happy, Hinata realized.

"Why didn't we just hunt for one before?" he asked. He wouldn't have complained—he was sick of dried food.

"You're too loud," Kageyama said, shaking his head.

"I am not!" Hinata squawked—loudly. Kageyama looked pointedly at him. Hinata huffed and said, in a quieter voice, "Well, I wouldn't be."

"I don't think that's possible for you," Kageyama fired back. "Why do you think I've only ever seen one while you were sleeping?"

Hinata grumbled. "You could've just gone on your own, then."

"Didn't want to leave you by yourself," Kageyama said, serving up some of the sizzling food on a plate. He seemed not to notice Hinata's surprise following his revelation. "Hinata, eat."

Hinata shoveled the food into his mouth, and burned his tongue. But still: "It's delicious! Thank you!"

Kageyama almost smiled, again.

By the time dusk had fallen, Kageyama had done even more work—cut the meat they hadn't cooked into strips to salt and dry, and skinned the elk's hide and treated the fur, while Hinata watched squeamishly from behind his fingers. Within the next few days, the thick pelt could be worn as a hooded coat for extra warmth.

"You wear it," Kageyama told Hinata bluntly, thrusting it into his chest without looking. "So you quit shivering all the time."

It fit Hinata perfectly, and wearing it made him feel warmer than he had in weeks.

"Can I keep it?" he asked Kageyama. "Even after we get back?"

He needed to ask now, he reasoned. Once they got back, Kageyama would venture back out onto the ice with his people, leaving Hinata behind in the village. The thought made Hinata's stomach feel leaden. He was oddly jealous—partly envious of Kageyama for seeming so much stronger than him, for being able to have more adventures like this one. For while the ice was cold, it was beautiful, too, in its own way.

And he was jealous, too, of the people Kageyama called his tribe, the ones who were born to wander the ice. The ones who knew Kageyama, who would see even more amazing things with him long after Hinata had watched his back disappear into the swirling snow. What did he think of this journey they were taking together? Would he remember it after they'd gone their separate ways? Maybe the sights that seemed so incredible to Hinata weren't special, after all.

Kageyama reached out, tugging the hood down hard over Hinata's eyes. Hinata struggled, futilely, but quieted when he felt a heavy hand land on top of his head.

"I made it for you, didn't I?" Kageyama grunted, and Hinata peeked up at him to see he was resolutely staring out at the ice. "It's yours."

The chill became more bearable than ever before, to Hinata, and the ice no longer as unforgiving. And throughout the silence of the empty wilderness, he wasn't alone. Kageyama was there with him, leading him through it.

Nights on the ice were never truly dark. There may not be torches to light the way, but there were the stars overhead, and the moon, and the ice itself seemed to glow under their light.

Late into one long night, Hinata saw something even brighter dart by under his feet.

Was he imagining things? But there it was again—a small shape, maybe two hands long, gliding its way underneath the ice. Whatever it was glowed a beautiful blue-green, and it was swimming below the surface.

Hinata gasped and dropped to his knees for a closer look, reaching out automatically for Kageyama, to show him, excited by this newest discovery.

"Maybe we're getting closer to the Flame," Kageyama said as he spotted it.

"How do you know?" Hinata asked, crawling along the ice, chasing the little light undulating below him. "What is it?"

"It's a moon fish," Kageyama said. "They only school in warmer waters."

"School? But there's only…" Hinata looked up at him, and saw Kageyama was looking past him, eyes shining blue.

The moon fish suddenly darted back the way it had come, behind them, and Hinata stood and turned, to see a sight that made him gasp.

There must be hundreds of them. Dancing blue flames, racing toward them beneath the ice, light flowing from below, throwing off swooping, dappled patterns wherever they swam. Kageyama reached out to steady Hinata, who stumbled as the shining fish seemed to engulf them, a never-ending stream rushing by below. Hinata chased them farther out onto the ice with a whoop.

"Amazing!" he shouted in glee. "Kageyama, it's amazing!"

"Don't go too far," the other boy called back.

"You come here, then!" Hinata expected Kageyama to ignore him in exasperation as usual. But he didn't. Instead, he listened.

The other boy slowly followed him, and Hinata started to grin, beaming at Kageyama as he moved closer.

"Stop staring," Kageyama said, frowning, though he let Hinata grab his hands to pull him impatiently into the midst of the swimming lights.

"There's nobody else around to stare at," Hinata said.

"There's them," Kageyama said, with a nod down at the moon fish. The school seemed to have settled right below their feet.

Hinata hummed. The moon fish were beautiful, but it was all because of the light they emitted, the same light that played in dips and waves over Kageyama's face, his eyes, the tips of his black hair. So Hinata was still appreciating their spectacle, in a way. But he wondered…

"Is this why you like it out here?" Hinata asked him.

"Like it out where?" Kageyama asked, staring down at the ice and the fish.

"Just, wherever you are," Hinata said. "Is that why you and your tribe are wanderers?"

"I don't… I didn't like it," Kageyama said, after a silence.

This was the last answer Hinata was expecting. "But, all the stuff you know how to do—you're good at it—"

"I have to be to survive," Kageyama said. "But I never…" His frown deepened—not out of anger, but in thought. "I always felt like I was seeing all these things alone, before."

He finally met Hinata's eyes, hesitantly—the fish were beginning to disperse, move on further in their course.

"Oh," Hinata whispered, as the light on them flickered and began to dim, like a bright blue flame finally burning low. "Oh."

"I think I'm starting to like it," Kageyama told him, equally quietly. "Maybe."

"Maybe," Hinata agreed, stepping much, much closer to him. For the warmth.

The days began to pass surprisingly quickly, and eventually, they became aware of seeing something, in the farthest distance across the flat icy landscape. Something different; a lessening of the darkness, though there was no way to tell how far away it was, or its source. But they both knew what it must be, because there were no fires made by man out here in the wild.

They matched it with their own small fire when they stopped to rest, stoking the blaze as high and strong as they could. Now they took their time around the campfire, trading stories—Hinata would talk about what it was like, growing up in the village, clearing the boats of sleet to fish out in the bay. And Kageyama would tell him some of the many things he'd seen in his travels, until Hinata's expression became too wistful. They began to take longer packing up camp, and their pace gradually slowed. But still, every night, the light in the distance became brighter, and clearer, and then took shape.

And one day, they reached it.

It wasn't large. But there were other things that were strange about it, this one single beacon in the darkness. It was set on a pike, a little taller than Kageyama, made of simple wood and wedged into the ice. But the flame, flickering alone in the wide-open tundra, had drawn them to it. Its fiery orange tendrils twined around each other steadily. With no one around to keep it lit, it burned.

"We made it…" Hinata breathed. His quiet voice seemed to carry—the air was very still around the torch, hushed by the fall of snow.

Kageyama pulled his tribe's torch from its wrappings. "Can you even reach?"

Hinata pushed against his shoulder. "Yes! I think."

Kageyama pushed his torch into Hinata's hands, and said, in response to Hinata's startled expression, "Will you light it?"

Wordlessly, Hinata nodded. He stretched up, onto his toes, and Kageyama put one hand on his shoulder to steady him and wrapped the other around Hinata's hand on the torch. And together, they rekindled the blaze.

The Flame jumped, and grew—spread to their torch at the same time it arced high into the sky, flooding the air with heat. And as the light and warmth from the Flame washed over them both, Kageyama turned to look at him, and Hinata beamed back.

"Your torch," Kageyama prompted, after a moment. Hinata, who had almost forgotten about his own, fumbled for it, holding it out for Kageyama to set it alight. They stared at the twin fires burning.

"They seem brighter." Hinata said. "Brighter than before."

"You think so, too?" Kageyama asked, staring up at the new flames.

"Yes," Hinata said, and then he realized. "We can go home."

Kageyama nodded. "You can."

"Oh." Hinata's smile faltered. "I meant…" He could go home. But Kageyama, and his people, only had the ice.

Kageyama stared at him for a long moment. "You know," he said, "if you spent a little more time in the wild… you might start to like it more."

"Maybe I already do," Hinata told him.

Kageyama pushed his torch toward him. "Then you should be the one to give this back to my tribe. Maybe, if you wanted…"

"Could I come with you?" Hinata blurted, and Kageyama seemed relieved that he had understood.

"I think that would be good," Kageyama said, and then added quickly, "for you, I mean. There's… there's a lot you haven't seen yet."

"I want to see everything!" Hinata said, leaning forward so quickly in his excitement that Kageyama had to dodge the torch before it singed his nose.

"No one sees everything," he said. "That would take lifetimes."

Hinata grinned, reaching out to Kageyama. And Kageyama took his hand without hesitation, a small, warm smile on his face.

"I think that's exactly what I'd like," Hinata said.

It would be difficult for the chill to find them now, with their torches held aloft, and their gloved hands holding tightly to each other. The journey ahead might be longer still—but Hinata was excited to find out how warm his life might become, out there on the ice.

--

Your journey isn't done, child, no, and now you've found that other soul to share it.

[kayawagner]

Getting Started on the DMs Guild – Part 2: Publishing and Marketing

Welcome back, folks! I hope you found Part 1 enlightening because we are going to take it a level deeper today. You’ve crafted your beautiful D&D work and now you’re ready to publish it. But I want to talk about some of the foibles of publishing on the DMs Guild, because it’s not quite like publishing anywhere else. This is where I think I’ve tripped up the most, so come and learn from my mistakes so you don’t have to make your own!

More Bubble-Bursting

Oh hey, remember how last time I started with the less-good stuff? I’m going to do that again. Some things on the DMs Guild don’t sell as well as other things, by a fairly wide margin. I didn’t include this in the previous article because I think it’s more important to write what you want to write than to write what you think will sell well. But since we’re going to talk about marketing, I think it’s important to bring it up now.

Player options like character classes or subclasses, character races, new spells, and new magic items sell very well in comparison to DM options like written adventures, monster and NPC stat blocks, or DM guides. It makes sense when you think about it; there’s at least a few players for every DM. Sure, a lot of players become DMs, but plenty don’t. In my experience, this can be a drastic difference in sales expectations.

 …it’s more important to write what you want to write than to write what you think will sell well. 

Share1

Tweet1

+11

Reddit1

Email

To give you an example – my best-selling adventure, up until recently, had only sold about a third as many copies as my worst-selling compilation of magic items. To put that another way, my “worst” magic items still sold three times as many copies as my “best” adventure, if we were to use sales as a measure of quality (spoiler alert: sales are not a good measure of quality).

I’d like to reiterate – this doesn’t mean you shouldn’t write the adventure you want to write. You very, very much should. Writing just for sales or writing only what you think will be popular is a much faster route to failure than writing what you have a passion for writing.

dmsguild.com

Pricing and Payment

One of the things I struggled with the most when I first started out was how much to sell my products for, and I think this is still confusing for a lot of newcomers. There’s three options on the DMs Guild: full paid, “pay what you want”, and free. Free is pretty self-explanatory – you aren’t getting paid for this, it’s being given away. Don’t undervalue yourself. It’s fine to do promotional items for free, but I wouldn’t do it for much else.

Full paid is the flat rate for your product. I didn’t know this when I got started, but many writers on the DMs Guild use this very simple formula: # of pages x $0.10, then round up to the nearest 0.99 or 0.95. For example, if you have a 25 page product, that puts you at $2.50, then round up to $2.99. And yes, not bringing it up to exactly $3 is surprisingly important. I dropped several smaller products from $1 to $0.99 and I saw a fairly significant jump in sales. I don’t know why the human brain is this way, but it sure is. You can charge more, you can charge less, but this is a solid baseline, I’ve found.

 Don’t undervalue yourself. You have a valuable skill and you deserve to be paid for it. 

Share1

Tweet1

+11

Reddit1

Email

“Pay What You Want” is, and I’ll be blunt here, the worst of both worlds. 95% of the people who download your product just won’t pay anything or will pay a pittance. Again, this can work for promotional items, like one stat block from a larger collection that you’re advertising… but then just go with free. This is my experience; your mileage may vary. Don’t undervalue yourself. You have a valuable skill and you deserve to be paid for it.

As for what you get paid, well, you get 50% of whatever the item costs. If someone were to buy my example $2.99 adventure up there, I would get $1.50 and Wizards of the Coast and OneBookshelf would split the other $1.50 (full disclosure; I do not know what their agreed-upon split is and it probably isn’t pertinent here). This is… fine. This is part of why I mentioned going direct to DriveThruRPG way back in Part 1. When you publish on DriveThruRPG, you receive 65-70% of the item’s cost, not 50%. Again, use your best judgment.

Marketing and Social Media

dmsguild.com

So, let’s get to the really good stuff here: where and how to market your product. Yes, I do strongly recommend marketing it across social media, though which social media platforms will do well for you depends on what your product is. There’s just enough stuff being published on the DMs Guild that people aren’t so likely to just stumble across your product very often. So here’s my breakdown of the big social media platforms.

Facebook – there’s a few Facebook groups I recommend joining and promoting your products there. The first is the official “Dungeon Masters Guild” group, created recently by the new community manager, Lysa Chen. The second is the “Dungeon Masters Guild Creators Circle” group, which served as an unofficial primary group until the official one was created. The third… if you really must, is the main “Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition” group. Your posts will be buried quickly, but it does have massive reach.

Twitter – there’s no denying it, Twitter is a very useful cesspit. There’s a small handful of hashtags that I recommend using: #dmsguild #dnd5e #ttrpg are the main ones. If you use more than two or three hashtags, your tweets are more likely to get flagged as spam and hidden from people’s news feeds, which is the last thing you want. Twitter tends to serve most people well, in my experience.

Reddit – I don’t know how else to put this, but Reddit will probably only serve you well if you have free or pay-what-you-want products. Reddit likes free things. I don’t know why it’s so different from the others in this regard, but it sure is. I’ve seen massive threads turn into flamewars that have to be locked by mods because people seem to think that D&D writers shouldn’t need to be paid for what they do. r/dndnext is the biggest and most active subreddit. There is one for r/dmsguild but I hear it’s not very active at all.

Tumblr – there is a really significant D&D subculture on Tumblr, in large part thanks to The Adventure Zone, and to a lesser extent, Critical Role. If your content is the kind of humorous, even zany stuff that TAZ specializes in, you may do very well on Tumblr. The Tumblr community is also kind to works that include strong elements of social justice, like the recent “Blessed of the Traveler: Queer Gender Identity in Eberron”. It can be hard to build a following there, but once you do, you have a built-in fanbase.

Instagram – yes, Instagram! If your work includes evocative or eye-catching art, definitely use Instagram. It’s not as useful for strictly-text works, but both modern and historical art tend to do quite well there. Even moreso than Twitter, Instagram is a game of hashtags, and using many, many hashtags is encouraged by the almighty algorithm. It’s not uncommon to see a post tagged “#dnd #dnd5e #dmsguild #art #vintage #fairies #fantasy #writing #rpg #ttrpg #gaming”. Again, your mileage may vary, but since it’s so easy to cross-post to and from Instagram, you might see very big results for very little effort.

Lifecycle of a Product

There is, of course, an initial boom around the first week or two of a product’s release. The longer you stay in the “Newest DMs Guild Titles” promotional ribbon, the better. But what happens after that?

 Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. 

Share1

Tweet1

+11

Reddit1

Email

Well… a long, slow drop. Or a fast, sudden drop. I’ve had products see a trickle of sales for months; I’ve had others not sell a single copy a few weeks after release. I don’t have a good way of predicting this, unfortunately. But do know that unless you see massive, breakthrough success, your product is not going to keep selling in the same kind of numbers as it does the first few days. Never expect to have massive, breakthrough success. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.

Sooner or later, most products outside of the top bestsellers hit a point where they’re kind of “dead”. They’re not really selling except maybe one or two spotty, inconsistent sales. That’s okay. That’s like the circle of life but for art. You can keep promoting them, but if you keep hitting up the same few sites, you’re going to reach a point of saturation, where everyone who’s going to buy a copy already has. You can stave this off to some extent by staggering your promotions. Maybe Twitter in the first week, Reddit in the second, Tumblr in the third. It’s not guaranteed by any means, but it can help.

What Next?

You may not want to hear this, but the best thing you can do is get another product out the door, and the sooner, the better. A “career” of any kind of longevity on the DMs Guild depends on regular, semi frequent releases. If you can get a product ready every few weeks without burning yourself out or sacrificing quality, go for it. Link to your other products in each new release. There’s a ribbon on every product page for “Customers who bought this title also purchased” and if you can gain a consistent following, that eventually just advertises for yourself.

dmsguild.com

If you can build a reputation for quality, the work will speak for itself. Don’t rush releases if you are feeling like burning out. It’s better to release better work less frequently than crummy work more often. This is where the Facebook groups I mentioned earlier really come in handy – a lot of people work on collaborations for the Guild. Many of the most successful products are the result of many D&D creators working together. If everyone contributes a small piece of a release, it’s easier for everyone. Six or ten or twenty heads are better than one.

If you like RPGs other than D&D, there are other community content programs, though none are quite so large as the DMs Guild. There’s also the Miskatonic Repository for the Call of Cthulhu system, and the Storyteller’s Vault for the White Wolf series of games like Vampire: The Masquerade and Mage: The Awakening. I’m sure there are more in the works, in no small part because publishers have seen the success of the DMs Guild and want that for their own games.

So, that’s what I’ve got in terms of wisdom, folks. I hope it helps you and I wish you all the best when you publish your own DMs Guild content. Don’t be nervous, you can do it!

Tell us what you’re working on in the comments!

Getting Started on the DMs Guild – Part 2: Publishing and Marketing published first on https://supergalaxyrom.tumblr.com