#InkyHolidayExchange2021

[singsfromthesoul]

Inky Holiday Exchange

Breaking my ‘no posting, only lurking’ streak of over a year on this blog because I have a gift for @incorrect-inkworld-quotes (surprise, it was me all along!) as a part of the @inkyholidayexchange. You mentioned being interested in the natural beauty of the Inkworld so I tried doing something a little different than what I usually write. Did I make make a water nymph sentient? Maybe??? I hope that doesn’t make me an Orpheus! You’re a great mod for us over on discord and I hope you enjoy this little drabble. Happy holidays!

From the depths

The pond was her whole world.

Cool, greenish waters were all that she had known and all that she had ever desired. Outside, the world of the humans was of little consequence to her. Leaves fell from trees and grass changed to frost, yet in the stillness of her pool the world remained relatively unchanged. She had never desired to leave the waters, but still she enjoyed watching the humans through the distorted lens of the water.

Sometimes, they were loud and joyful. A group of them had come through on some occasion with their brightly colored fabrics and loud voices, settling nearby. They hadn’t disturbed her pool, and in the night she had heard voices turn to melodies as the fire began to burn low. Above her, the lights of the sky had twinkled and she had let herself float as she tried to take in the music sung in a language she barely understood.

Sometimes, they were harsh and angry. A group of humans had gone past, riding the great beasts they had tamed. They had carried flames on pieces of wood that had likely been a tree once and shouted at one another about things she could never hope to understand. In their other hands, they had carried a long piece of material that glinted in the sun and she had wondered what it was for until one ran it through the body of the other and left him where he fell. She had retreated to the depths of the water that time, putting as much distance as she could between herself and the world of humans.

It was a rare occasion when someone approached the pool where she and her sisters lived, but one day a man did. He emerged from the forest quite suddenly and walked up to the pond slowly before kneeling at the water’s edge. Three pale lines ran down a face that seemed to contrast the harshness of such marks. Softly, the man explained that he had a request, something that he was trying to acquire in the surrounding areas of the forest. Something that he needed her help with.

No human had ever asked anything of her before. She dove deeper into the pool, in search of her sisters. She found them among the rocks, bubbles floating around their heads as they laughed. Quickly, she relayed the man’s request and watched as their black and gold eyes filled with interest. Her eldest sister quickly made for the surface, followed by the other and she was left with nothing to do but follow them both back to the surface.

With more bubbles of laughter, they lifted their arms above the water’s surface and ran their hands over his arms, face and neck, leaving behind a filmy deposit that glinted in the morning sun. She had never felt the sun directly on her skin. It seemed odd to her, but soon realized she was simply unused to the warmth of it.

With a small smile on his face, the man whispered his thanks and was on his way. She was left to look up at the sky again.

Sometimes, she saw other creatures. Little ones, with blue skin and chittering voices that chased one another and sometimes hovered over the surface as if hoping to see what lay below it. Other creatures went by her pool too. Large ones that only emerged at night and blended with the shadows, yellow eyes that peered out from the leaves, rustling sounds and howling so terrible it made her flee to the depths of the pool with the hope that the water would muffle the sounds.

All were part of the harmony of the forest. She knew she would not trade it for anything. Not the way the summer sun would warm the pool, nor the view of the forest as the dreary fall rain turned to crisp winter white. Definitely not the spring flowers that danced on the breeze before landing on the water’s surface, or the rare sights of fire elves and glass men.

Not the bubbles of her sisters’ laughter rising up to the surface, or the way the bottom of the pool shone on nights when the moon was full.

She knew she would miss it too much.

[inkyholidayexchange]

Hello all!

New to the fandom? Been here a while? No matter! We invite you to join the Inky Holiday Exchange 2021!

What do I need to join?

Only to love Cornelia Funke's Inkworld books (you don't even need to have read all of them!) and to fill out this survey. This way we can pair you up more effectively!

How does it work?

From now until October 31st, sign-ups will be open to anyone interested in participating. You sign up by filling out the survey linked above. During the first week of November, our team will assign you the person you will be making a gift for. We'd like for the gifts to be a surprise, so try not to contact the person directly! The gifting period will be from December 21st through the 31st. We will check in on all participants just before the start of the gifting period to make sure everything is running smoothly! You can choose to reveal yourself to your giftee at any point between the 21st and the 31st of December via a post that you will tag #InkyHolidayExchange2021 so we can find them more easily. Feel free to message us with any questions you may have!

[incorrect-inkworld-quotes]

Inky Holiday Exchange 2021

I had the great honour to gift a little something to @schleierkauz for the @inkyholidayexchange. I tried to incorporate what you like as best as I could and I really hope you’ll enjoy! Without further ado, here’s the thing ✨

I’d Come Home For You Too

“Brianna…”, Roxane interrupted, the tone barely chiding. Brianna stayed silent then, ate her food instead and Dustfinger couldn’t find better words to save himself from his faults. Something death hadn’t been able to wash away. His faults stayed, they would stay. Always.

----

When Brianna comes home for a week, Dustfinger is reminded of his guilt of leaving again and again. It's not that he doesn't want to fix their relationship, it's just that he doesn't know how to.

3594 words, no warnings, just Dustfinger trying very, very hard to be a father. 

A gentle breeze caught Dustfinger’s long hair, tugged at his cloak as if it was calling him away. It brought the smell of oleander along, of the soft moss growing on the trees nearby like a veil. Brought along the whisper of the wind, maybe even its touch. Like a white finger, tracing his face where his scars once had been. 

He couldn’t help himself but to move his own, bring some warmth back to his skin. 

Warmth. He had longed for it the past few days. Not even the fire had managed to scare the cold away completely, the one that nisted deep inside his chest like a reminder. His nights had been cold, had made him wake up drenched in sweat and sweet words on his lips. 

You will come often. And go often. He still didn’t know what the white women’s words meant.

Wandering deep into the wayless forest had been his attempt at trying to get rid of it. The impression of not being alone. The angry buzzing of the fire faeries reminded him of his purpose. Not that their nectar could improve his abilities any more. He still had enough from coming here the last time, his understanding of the flames deeper than ever before. It had been more about the ritual. Having a bit of nostalgia, of old routines to ground him. 

However, the wind. 

The wind tugged at his coat, whispering, touching, teasing. 

He looked into the distance, back the way where he had come from and thought of Roxane’s cottage, of the red anemones growing in her garden; and suddenly he wondered why he had gone out into the woods if he could easily find everything he needed at home. 

You fool, have you still not learnt?, he berated himself and bid the forest good-bye before he could fully be welcomed by it. 

His heart was a silly little thing, and treacherous on top. This was nothing new, but he felt the betrayal deeply each time when he saw Brianna and still hoped for a smile. Softness. Anything, really, but the deepness in her eyes that spoke of unfamiliarity and coldness. Betrayal of its own kind. 

She had grown a lot since he had seen her last, grown completely, perhaps. Her face had lost the last of its childlike roundness, her features now sharper like her mother’s. Healthy. It calmed him to see that she was treated well as Violante’s maid, it calmed Roxane as well. She arrived just at the same time as him, on a proud horse that kept her dress’ seam clean and pretty. Expensive clothes, he could tell. It was what she deserved. 

He patted the goose so the alarm quickly stopped, but Roxane still came out to see what had caused the short commotion. There was an instant spark of happiness in her eyes as she saw them both. He hoped that his own eyes mirrored hers. 

So he, quite sensibly, asked his daughter, “Were you kicked out again?”

Her face instantly fell into a scowl, she didn’t even deem him an answer. Instead she hopped down from her horse, and went to hug Roxane tightly.

“Violante told me to visit for a week. It’s been so long”, she explained to her mother. She offered a bundle of fresh herbs. “A gift.”

“How generous”, Roxane answered with a smile, then sniffed on the plants.

“She also gave me a list of herbs to bring back.”

“Of course. Come in, both of you must be hungry.”

Dustfinger didn’t hesitate to follow her inside if only to escape the weird tension in the garden. The house was as warm as he left it, Jehan sat at the table and copied texts Resa had left him. Even if he had been suspicious of her at first, he too had warmed up to her easily. She visited regularly to buy herbs from Roxane, taught Jehan and Farid as payment and left work for them to do until she’d come next time. 

“How has been work? How is Jacopo?” Roxane asked while she prepared a simple lunch. Some bacon, grilled pepper and bread. 

“He is… Still Jacopo”, Brianna answered carefully. 

Dustfinger could only imagine what hidden meaning lay behind those words. How could one describe a child like this? That murdered his grandfather cold blooded? If he was like his mother, surely he would be fine. Silvertongue had said something about a child psychiatrist, Resa had agreed eagerly. Violante had consulted a soul healer after they had explained the concept then, but Dusfinger’s hopes were rather slim. 

“He stopped kicking the dogs”, Brianna added. A small victory at least! “And you? How have you been?”

Roxane brought over the food with a heartfelt smile. “How could I possibly be better than this with all my favourite people at one table?” With a small gesture to Jehan, she said, “Put your work away for now, let’s eat.” 

Then, for the first time, Brianna looked at Dustfinger. “And your son? How’s he?”

That’s what she called him. He believed she was trying to be petty, but he had no excuse to call Farid anything else. Not after- 

Well. There was no use in correcting something that wasn’t truly wrong to begin with. Dustfinger cleared his throat a bit. “He is well. He is with the Black Prince for a while. Seeing the world.”

“So why are you here?” The accusation cut through the room like a knife, hurting just like Basta’s knives had hurt. Just deeper. 

Dustfinger looked down on his plate, on his bacon, preppers and bread. He knew that he’d say the wrong thing, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying. Not anymore. “Those places I’ve already seen.”

“That would be boring, I am sure.”

“Brianna…”, Roxane interrupted, the tone barely chiding. Brianna stayed silent then, ate her food instead and Dustfinger couldn’t find better words to save himself from his faults. 

Something death hadn’t been able to wash away. His faults stayed, they would stay. Always. 

When he helped Roxane wash up the dishes, she put a hand on his wrist. “She’s still hurt. You have to understand.” 

Did it seem like he did not understand? Really? But I do understand, he wanted to say. I understand that she’s hurt. Sometimes I just don’t understand why you’re not hurt also.

He handed Roxane the cloth to dry her hands afterwards and they moved outside, continuing the work. The well’s bucket had fallen and even if he could not call water, it was what he tried to fix now. He could not help but wonder who had done these kinds of works while he was gone and Roxane had been alone. It made him ache for a time long gone by, made him feel guilty, made him wish that the reminder of it would not currently help Roxane with the flowers. That was the cowardly part, hidden well within himself, only rarely acknowledged and already believed gone. 

Yes. The fear of death might be gone. He treasured life. But the coward inside of him simply had found a new fear for him to avoid. Like cold voices it whispered in his mind, asking him why he had returned early, just in time to run into Brianna? What a coincidence. To trust his whim and have it pay so perfectly, cruelly. 

The day passed, so did the next and nothing Dustfinger did or said helped the tense situation between him and his daughter. What he did or said was nothing. Not even that helped. It soured his mood and his surroundings picked up on it. The goose took longer to calm down and Gwin would not stray a foot from its master, as if afraid to be left behind. Which was a reasonable fear and that made all of it even worse. 

The nights were cold, not just because the winter drew nearer, but also because the dreams were filled with memories, with longing calls and white faces. It made him wake up multiple times at which he pressed his sparkling hot hand on his chest, to find back to the warmth. Angrily he stared into the darkness that usually brought him peace, only to see Brianna’s disappointed face in it. If he knew how to fix it, he’d try. 

On a late afternoon, the sun already started to set, Jehan had finished copying lines--his handwriting was so much better than Dustfnger’s--and ran outside to help his mother. 

The boy crouched down to weed the flower beds and it was merely a couple minutes until he flinched back from the fire anemones. 

“Here, let me”, Dustfinger mumbled and quickly pulled the dandelion and grass around it. The anemone’s leaves like tiny kisses on his skin, instead. 

“It’s unfair”, Jehan said and pouted. Suddenly, Dustfinger found himself helpless. Had he been there to push a hundred pouty lips back in, to stroke away the frowns between those childish eyes, he’d know what to do now. But he hadn’t been there when Brianna had been in spite, when Rosanna had been in despair. Not even with Farid. Roxane knew what to say, even Silvertongue would know. 

“What is unfair?” he asked. Summoned a smile. 

“Farid wouldn’t get burnt. But I do. I get burnt every time.”

Dustfinger looked down at his hands and saw the red spots where the plant had come too close. It was truly an unfair fate for someone scared of the flames. Carefully, he covered it with his own, called the heat back and left unblemished skin behind. The child made wide eyes. For the first time since he saw him use his skill and it loosened something inside his chest. Maybe, he simply didn’t understand that it was the same tongue that called the fire back that could also summon it. 

Eagerly, he grabbed at his sleeve. “Will you show me one time?” 

Dustfinger squirmed. Hadn’t he only meant to teach Farid? Jehan wasn’t even his own. 

What nonsense. He could have slapped himself. He squirmed some more while he reminded himself that Jehan was as much his as Farid. And to teach him how to tame was not so bad, was it? Especially not if it managed to take his fear a bit. 

“Someday, maybe”, Dustfinger replied. A gasp.

When he looked up, he saw Brianna, her lips pressed thinly together, just as she turned around and walked away. Stomped away, but with grace (and pride). 

Whatever he had done wrong, it was totally beyond him. He swallowed down whatever wanted to rise in his chest and scrambled up to follow her. 

“Brianna- Wait!” he called and found her in the back, taking the laundry off the line. She might have been in one place now, but she certainly did not wait to talk. Which was a blessing and a curse, because he definitely didn’t know what to say to her, but at least he had the opportunity to. 

Gwin jumped onto his shoulder, a calming presence. 

“I- I don’t know what I did wrong”, he muttered under his breath, more for himself than for her, but she had heard despite it. 

“I am not surprised, you never seem to do.” Great, so she was willing to talk at least. That made it worse. 

“I am sorry. I wish I knew. I want to know. Really.”

She continued her work, not looking back or replying. He had talked with Roxane about it, multiple times. Leave her time. But let her know that you’ll be there once she’s ready, tell her. He didn’t have the words to say it. What would he give for those hated words other people could control so powerfully. Orpheus, Fenoglio, Meggie, Resa. Anyone’s. At this moment, he really did not care, he just wanted to say, “Brianna, I want to fix this.”

“Then try”, she hissed, and stomped inside (gracefully). 

Wasn’t I just trying?, he wondered and felt as helpless as if he had been thrown into an entirely different world. He knew what that had felt like, so he could make that comparison with utmost certainty. 

Dustfinger was restless. He tried to ignore it, that feeling of tingling fingers, of the blood pumping faster than he needed for sitting still and the desire to breathe in the peculiar smell of the forest, the sea, the mountains. A foolish desire, he knew, as it was just a ghost of old longings, he had just tested that out, he did not need to try it again. His true desire was to talk with Brianna without either of them abruptly shutting up or storming off. No, he would sit this week out and prove that he did not have to run away from his fears. He could face rightful rejection. Hadn’t he faced death herself? How could this be any worse?

Just as he finished those thoughts, Roxane put down a basket in front of him. “We’re out of paper and ink. Will you go and fetch some? Jehan needs it for his work.” 

Dustfinger was certain that he had seen a whole stack of paper just two days ago, he couldn’t have possibly used it all up yet. For a moment, he wondered if this was just an excuse for him to leave, if Roxane had seen right through him. Most certainly she had. Thankfully, he took the basket and the purse and made his way to Ombra. If they needed new paper and Roxane asked him to go, who was he to refuse? He would be only gone for a few hours. The trip might bring fresh air to him, let him recharge in peace from his overthinking. 

The imagery had been admirable, really. 

“-and how would I know if no one ever tells me such things? I just told Darius yesterday, didn’t I, Darius?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Well, there you have it. It is impossible how expensive the paper is and even more impossible how impossible it is for me to buy it! They won’t even talk to me while paying, they only talk to Darius!”

The loud voice of the old woman made his ears ring, as if the streets of Ombra weren’t loud enough already. 

“If you hate it so much here, maybe you should go back to your world then?” Dustfinger hissed only to be met by a scandalised face. 

“And leave my family behind?” She gaped at him, but used to call him rude. “You of all people should know how much pain it brings to be separated from one's family!” Dustfinger flinched. “Also, I really quite like it here, aside from horrendous paper prices.” 

“Well, good thing you have it, now. I need to buy some too.”

“Paper?” Elinor repeated, but stepped aside to give room at the stand. 

“Yes, for my s- for my wife’s- for Jehan, my-” Pathetically, he gave up. The old woman did not laugh, though. Rather, she looked at him with understanding. She waited until he had purchased paper and ink, no matter if he wanted or not, and then walked a few steps along. 

“It’s difficult to bond with him?” 

Dustfinger thought back of Jehan’s excitement when he had told him he’d teach him to tame the fire and could not totally agree. The boy had opened up to him in the last months, it became easier every day. No, it was not that hard to bond with him. 

“It’s okay. It’s much harder with my daughter.”

“Brianna?” The old woman put a hand on his arm, squeezed with sympathy. Darius smiled at him, too. He did not know what to make of it. 

“Yes. She doesn’t like me. I do not know how to… Talk to her.”

“I understand”, the old woman then said and nodded. “After my niece had disappeared, contact with Mo and Meggie had been sparse. He never really admitted it, but I think he tried to avoid me, so that I would not ask too many questions. When you all turned up on my doorstep that one day, I also did not know how to be. Especially with Meggie, who looked so much like her mother but carried so little from her, as she grew up without her. I am not good with kids. I’m really not.”

Dustfinger remembered. Now that she pointed it out, he truly could see the similarities. 

“But now you are good with all of them”, he mentioned and hated the longing and envy that was so obvious in his voice. 

“Yes, yes I am. Bonding in Capricorn’s village must have helped. If I am grateful for any of it, then simply that I got to get to know Meggie in that time. You can’t expect to trust and talk to one another easily if you don’t know each other well enough. It needs time.”

“That’s what Roxane says, too.”

“Well then, there you have it! What is the problem?”

“It just doesn’t work”, he admitted and after a raised eyebrow, he told her begrudgingly how Brianna stayed over and how they simply could not talk to one another without it just going wrong. 

“You can’t just exist next to each other. When I say that you need to spend time with each other, I mean that you should work on one thing together. Have you considered that she thought you were going to teach Jehan your fire magic and that she was jealous?”

“But she doesn’t want that.”

“Have you asked?”

No. He hadn’t. He had just assumed, because she had never asked. But had he offered? He hated to admit it, but the old woman was right. He thanked her with a scowl on his face and hurried to get back home, now with an urgency to see Brianna again he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Hastily, he put down the basket on the kitchen table and went to look for his daughter. He found her sitting under the autumn’s sun, humming a soft melody. She flinched a little with surprise when she noticed him.

“I-”

“You’re already back”, she noted. 

“I was just in Ombra to get paper.”

“I assumed you’d take a detour.”

“I wouldn’t. Not while you’re here.”

“Mum, you mean.”

“Yes, but-”

“I’m glad you came home for her, then.”

This was not how Dustfinger had planned for the conversation to go. All the words he had memorised on his way back home were gone, now. He was at point zero again. He had no control over the words, he did not understand them as well, he did not speak them as well, he-

He called the fire, let it paint a face with its flames, so close to what photos were like, just yellow and orange and red and a bit blue. Brianna could clearly not stop herself from looking at it in wonder. There was a frown between her eyes. 

(He wished he had learnt how to wipe it away.)

“This is what you looked like, when I had seen you the last time before I was gone”, he whispered. “I could not call the fire like this, then. I could not draw you or write about you. All I had was my memory, but I promise I held onto it. I held onto you, even if I have nothing to show for it.”

Brianna was silent, watching as her own face tingled over his hands. 

After she had gotten her fill, she looked to the ground, said eventually, “I didn’t know you could do that.”

And Dustfinger got a hold of himself and responded, “Would you like to learn?”

With big eyes, she stared at him. They looked watery. 

“How to talk to the fire, I mean.”

“I don’t need to know how to do your tricks. I can sing, that pays plenty already.”

“You don’t have to”, he quickly reared back. “Only if you want to. I’d teach you.”

“We barely see each other. I bet you wouldn’t even be here the next time that I visit.” She crossed the arms before her chest, but nothing about her defensive posture could hide how her voice cracked. 

“I’m home a lot. If you let me know, I’d come home then.”

“Yeah.” She swallowed, looked into the distance and he let the flames die, didn’t know whether to reach out or to give space. 

“I do come home”, he repeated. “I always have and forever will. For Roxane, but also for you. I’d come home for you too.”

“I don’t need you to”, she snapped back, tears in her eyes that she was too proud to shed and her arms crossed before her chest. 

“But if you wanted me to.” 

And that was, apparently, more than either of them could handle. Because Brianna could not hold back any longer and somehow he couldn’t either. So he found himself with his arms around her shoulder, while she hid her sobs against his chest. He knew it was just a beginning, as he stroked over her red hair in calming motions. They would need time and he did not expect her to forgive him just like that. Maybe he would never teach her a single thing. 

But he could. If she wanted to, he would do anything. 

When the week was over, Brianna left with a bundle of fresh herbs and a smile on her face that did not dim for the first time when her gaze shifted to Dustfinger. 

That night, he slept through, warmth in his heart. 

[schleierkauz]

Inky Holiday Exchange 2021

I am late... But not too late and that’s all that matters.

Happy Inky Holiday Exchange @tommymcartney! I hope these last few days of 2021 have been treating you well.

I discovered that writing about the Inkworld in English feels incredibly strange (I legit wrote parts of this in German and then translated it lmao), so that was an interesting experience.

I’ve been thinking a lot about stories about stories and the relationship between Dustfinger and Resa especially in the first book and then this little thing happened. I hope you like it!

The Truths we found between the Lines

To Resa, Dustfinger was a thousand stories before she ever met him.

When she sat down with Mo that fateful night, eager to hear him read a few more chapters of the book they‘d picked out together; when she worked as a writer those precious few years of freedom in the other world; when she shared cramped quarters with maids who only ever whispered: Dustfinger seemed omnipresent in his absence.

Children on Ombra‘s streets swore up and down that they‘d seen him at midnight, walking across rooftops in the darkness as if the cold air listened to him as readily as his fire. Their mothers scolded that no child ought to be seeing anything at that hour, then turned to their friends to hear the story of the mysterious girl who had stolen the Fire-Dancer‘s heart and taken it with her, far away from any mortal eyes.

Wealthy merchants scoffed at them, confident that Dustfinger had met the same fate that awaited most strolling players (dead, then or dying in one of the Adderhead‘s dungeons). He had been captured and sold to a young prince who sought to speak to all the elements. He had wandered into the deepest depths of the Wayless Wood and turned into a silver tree. He had been eaten by his best friend‘s bear. (Resa had her own suspicions about what had happened. But that was not a story she would go around telling anyone.)

The first time anyone mentioned his daughter was weeks after the child had died. Resa wondered if Dustfinger knew of his daughter‘s fate. She wondered if she would know, if-

If.

There would be no gossip on the street about Resa‘s whereabouts. Whatever Meggie would hear about her mother would come from Mo and no one else. Resa wondered if that made it better. She wondered how the mother of Dustfinger‘s children felt, meeting her partner‘s ghost at every street corner.

There were nights when Resa would have given anything for someone to tell her a story about Mo. She wanted to curse the magic that surrounded her, rip it all up like the ink on paper it was supposed to be and get her damn family back. Her husband. Her daughter.

But when the sun rose and the world drew her back into it‘s colorful chaos, all that remained was the biting guilt that came with being so treacherously enraptured with it all.

This other world was enchanting and full of wonders but it did not love Resa back. Here, being a woman meant tying oneself to a man, one way or another. Resa had no interest in any man she hadn‘t already married, so she became one and stayed alone as long as she could. She worked and travelled and made the memories that would keep her alive in the years to follow, when she needed something to hold on to but the faces of those she loved most in any world felt like thorns in her heart.

And through it all, there were stories about Dustfinger. Resa imagined many things about the Fire-Dancer, the way one thinks about characters from a story. That was what he was to her, still. Years later she would blush admitting it to him on a crumpled piece of paper, held dangerously close to the small candle Mortola had failed to see hidden in Resa‘s hair before locking her in. The man who took it struggled to make out the words in the dim light and laughed when he finished reading, a quiet sound in Capricorn‘s night. „All those stories you keep hidden away in your head and you were thinking about me? What an honor,“ he teased and didn‘t try to dodge the empty pack of matches thrown at his face.

***

To Dustfinger, Resa was a thousand stories once he finally met her.

He‘d heard about her, the mute maid with the golden hair Capricorn seemed so obsessed with (as Basta never tired to bitterly point out). Dustfinger assumed her tongue had been cut as some sort of punishment (a threat Capricorn liked to make and Mortola was glad to fulfill) but his old enemy, ever in love with his own voice, soon regaled the group of indifferent blackjackets (and Dustfinger, hidden in a corner) with the exact circumstances of how Darius had fished her out of their old world but left her voice behind. Sneaking out of the church, Dustfinger wondered if he should be glad Silvertongue had left him intact. He didn‘t use his own voice much these days- and in her position, he figured, the woman had little reason to speak anyway. The fire-raisers maids were barely seen and never heard, that‘s how it always had been.

He took notice when he kept hearing about her: Rejecting Capricorn‘s advances, placing snakes on Basta‘s doorstep, sneaking out at night... For a moment Dustfinger was reminded of another woman so much braver than him. When he first heard that Capricorn had locked her in one of the towers, Dustfinger did nothing. The second time he watched her walk to her cell, spine straight and head held high and suddenly Dustfinger felt like he had an idea of what her voice would sound like if she still had it. The next time he saw a guard half asleep in front of the tower, Dustfinger decided it would only be polite to introduce himself.

Back home it had always been understood that Dustfinger was the fire-raisers prisoner when he was with them. He would forever regret everything he had taught them about fire but there had never been any doubt that he’d had no choice.

Here, the lines weren‘t so clear. Capricorn hadn‘t felt the need to lock Dustfinger up in a long time. It was obvious by now that he would always come back, the bittersweet comfort of seeing familiar faces binding him to his old enemies like no chain ever could. How many times had Dustfinger cursed that stubborn flicker of hope within his heart that whispered of home and family and refused to die for good.

He wasn‘t one of Capricorn‘s fire-raisers, would never belong to them, but he wasn‘t quite their prisoner anymore, either (even if it still felt that way) and Dustfinger soon realised that belonging to neither group made for a lonely existence. He wasn‘t a social person, had never been keen to spend prolonged periods of time in the company of other people, even those he loved (and what a fool he had been). But it had been different back home. He had always known where he could go and be welcome. After that first night when he climbed through the window of Resa‘s cell, it didn‘t take long for Dustfinger to realise that she had become the closest thing to a home he had.

They traded smooth stones and candles and words between them like thieves in the night. Dustfinger was careful to hide their friendship, acutely aware that Basta was interested in Resa and unwilling to repeat the experience of getting between Capricorn’s attack dog and what (or rather who) he desired. Dustfinger would always be a coward and he knew it.

Fortunately, Resa was determined and capable of standing her ground.

Unfortunately, that meant she sometimes needed protection from herself.

Dustfinger despised it, having to tell her over and over again that it was impossible to escape. Somewhere along the way he had turned into one of Capricorn‘s prison guards and he hated himself for it - but if she got caught, if she lost her way in the darkness, if a snake bit her...

Resa‘s answers were always the same.

„Help me then.“

And Dustfinger would look away, away from the careful letters he still struggled to decipher, away from Resa‘s face.

„You can come and go however you please.“

„You know the way.“ 

„Come with me.“

But what if it worked? What if she really made it and escaped, returned to the place she belonged and leaving him in the darkness again?

Dustfinger knew he was a horrible person but at least he wasn‘t alone anymore.

Sometimes, Resa would allow him to distract her, coax her into telling him another story, drawing another picture in the dirt to forget their bitter reality.

Sometimes her hands went quiet and she turned away.

And as time went on and the look of betrayal never quite seemed to leave her face, Dustfinger realised he would lose her either way. The hug she pulled him into when he suggested they go on a little walk one of these nights was worth it. He told himself it had to be worth it.

Of course the plan immediately went to hell.

When Basta found them, Dustfinger gingerly poking at Resa‘s bruised ankle, he looked like a little boy on christmas morning. For a moment Dustfinger was certain he was going to die.

And if some part of him, buried deep beneath the pain and terror of feeling Basta‘s knife against his throat once again and seeing Resa being dragged away from him felt something nauseatingly familiar to relief... Well, that was just another personal failing to ignore. 

Resa would never know and a few more scars were a small price to pay to get his friend back.

***

Many years later, those scars would remain. 

The White Women had washed away Dustfinger‘s oldest reminder of what love could lead to but kept the other one. Sometimes he wondered why. Perhaps they couldn‘t touch the wounds of another world (or they just didn‘t want to - Dustfinger could sympathize with that). Thinking back to the terrified man cowering next to a mute maid with golden hair felt like someone else‘s memory.

 A story half-forgotten.

The woman sitting next to him now laughed louder than anyone Dustfinger knew when her son spilled her paints all over the work desk. She kissed her husband and held Dustfinger‘s hand at the same time and there wasn‘t a moment of uncertainty between the three of them. As painful and complicated as their stories had been, they had made it. They had turned into people able to overcome it all and, for one glorious moment, there was nothing more to say.

[halseyquinn]

Buon Natale

Hello everyone! Happy holidays and a good start into a wonderful New Year!

This little story for the @inkyholidayexchange is dedicated to @georgehenryhodgson. I hope you like it :)

Summary: Basta, the ultimate Christmas-Grinch, gets lost in a little village on Christmas eve.

Word count: 1643

Warnings: Basta simply being himself actually deserves kind of a warning ;) No, but seriously, there‘s a bit of swearing, nothing too bad, though.

Disclaimer: Basta and Capricorn as well as the book “Inkheart” belong to Cornelia Funke.

Buon Natale

The wind was harshly blowing snowflakes into his face. Scowling, Basta wrapped his arms around his shoulders in an unsuccessful attempt to keep himself warm. He muttered a few curses under his breath and tried to walk even faster, although he was almost running already. The wind only seemed to become stronger and the whirling snowflakes made it increasingly difficult for him to see where he was heading. Besides, it was almost dark outside although it was only afternoon. „Damn!“ Basta only narrowly avoided bumping into someone. Sending the stranger a murderous glare, he stopped to take a look around and had to admit that he had absolutely no idea where he was anymore. This street didn‘t look in the least familiar to him. Where had he left the stupid car?

Basta‘s mood was at an alltime low. Not that he was actually ever in a really good mood – except from situations in which he could inflict pain and suffering upon others – the mere thought made his lips curl into a small smile. But right now he was cold, hungry, exhausted and – totally lost. After weeks of trying to hunt down another copy of Inkheart during the worst time of the year, he had eventually found it that day. But instead of being able to immediately head back to the village (how he hated being away from it for such a long time), he was now stuck in that stupid town. He released a slightly desperate sigh, before taking a couple hesitant steps in the direction he thought to be the right one, cautiously trying to avoid bumping into one of the many trees that seemed to stand at every other corner.

He still didn‘t understand why the hell anyone would like to put up trees in a city. Sure, he knew that it had to do with this thing called „Christmas“, but, honestly, although he had heard about it he still didn‘t really get it. Basta thought back about the world he came from. Hadn‘t that been one of the good things about not having to live in the woods – that you weren‘t constantly bothered by large trunks, blocking your vision, making you trip over them or worse? And what was it with this annoyingly blinking lights? They always kind of made him nervous. Once or twice he hadn‘t been able to resist the temptation of cutting some of the lights off of the trees with his trusty knife. He had always tried to made sure that nobody was around at that time – not that he personally cared, but Capricorn had told him to stay out of trouble. Apparently, it had become „too costly“ to always bribe the police into overlooking Basta‘s little „adventures“. Frowning, Basta remembered the one time, when he had got caught – although not by a police officer, but a little girl. His brow creased – he really didn‘t like to be reminded of that episode.

He had been in the middle of liberating a puny tree from a particularly hideous chain of lights, when he had heard a high-pitched screech. Basta had nearly cut his own thumb off with his knife and when he had cautiously turned around, he had seen a small girl who was pointing her finger at him, while tugging at the skirt of the woman next to her, probably her mother. Basta had immediately stored away his knife (fortunately he didn‘t only have an extremely silent tread, but also quick reflexes) and bolted from the „crime scene“ – not without sending the girl a death glare, making her start to cry. Luckily, by this time, Basta had already been too far away to hear much of it. From that day on, he had only disliked Christmas trees even more.

With an uncomfortable shudder, Basta snapped out of his unpleasant thoughts. Meanwhile, the wind had calmed down a bit and it had eventually stopped snowing. Basta, however, was as disgruntled as before. He was still lost and it was still damn cold. Suddenly, he heard a muffled sound, seemingly coming from directly behind him. He carefully turned around, his left hand resting on the knife at his belt – and found himself eye-to-eye with a small black kitten, that was sitting on a first-floor-balcony, in front of an open window. All at the same time, Basta yelped, grabbed the rabbit‘s foot dangling on a chain around his neck, and stumbled backwards, nearly knocking over a tiny tree in the process. With a gentle „thud“ his backside, not-so-gently, made contact with the snow-covered pavement. Basta swore loudly, immediately jumping back to his feet and brushing the cold, wet snow off of his behind. The kitten had, so far, been watching him with great interest, yellow eyes shining curiously. But when Basta got up again, cursing and making a great hullabaloo, it gave an indignant little hiss before quickly retreating back into the flat where it apparently had its home. Basta‘s heart was racing madly and his sweaty palm desperately clutched the lucky charm around his neck. To be honest, he felt more than a bit shaken. At first, he didn‘t really trust his legs to safely carry him any further and decided to hold onto one of the decorated trees for support. Just for a minute or two. He hardly dared to turn back around – just in case the devilish monster was still lurking in the dark. He couldn‘t help his thoughts wandering off to another story he had heard about „Christmas“, told by one of Capricorn‘s men. He thought it had been Maurizio, but couldn‘t remember anymore. Honestly, he also didn‘t give a damn – he had never really felt like mingling with his fellow blackjackets and they didn‘t seem to enjoy his company much either.

However, the story had been about „Befana“ – a witch that was said to bring the children in Italy presents for Christmas. Basta remembered his blood running cold at the thought of a witch wandering the place he was currently living in. When he had first, involuntarily, come to this world, this had been one of the few things he had immediately liked about it: There were no goblins, fairies, witches, or whatever magical folk to be found. He hadn‘t been able to shake off a certain wariness though – one never knew after all, right? And today his suspicions had finally been confirmed. Because – what else could the sudden appearance of the furry black devil mean but a premonition of disaster?

Basta was absolutely convinced, that „Befana“ was already lurking somewhere, maybe hiding behind that sinister-looking tree over there. What in hell a witch that was supposed to bring gifts to children should want of him, Basta did not know. But that didn‘t put his mind at ease at all. Why would she bring presents anyway? If Basta had the ability to soundlessly sneak into and out of every house, he‘d certainly not waste it like that. No, he‘d rather get himself one or two nice „presents“ out of drawers, cupboards or nightstands – wherever the house‘s inhabitants kept their valuable stuff. Basta chuckled at the pleasant thought. At least for now, he was feeling considerably better and decided that it was about time he finally got back to his car. He still had no idea where he was, but his eagerness to get home had certainly increased a good deal – he had to leave this cursed place at all costs!

Determination written all over his face, he walked on, his footsteps making the snow crunch under his boots. From a distance, the faint ringing of a church bell could be heard. Basta‘s head jerked up – hadn‘t there been a little church next to the place where he had parked his car? The town was only a small one, so he highly doubted that there was more than one such building. It had to be the same! Basta cocked his head to one side, in order to hear better, which gave him a slightly cat-like appearance. Carefully avoiding making too much noise, he began walking into the direction where the sound seemed to come from, and indeed: as he kept walking, the chiming became louder and louder. His heart started to beat a little faster – he wouldn‘t have to stay in that wretched place much longer! By now, he was almost running, full of anticipation and relief. Basta turned around another corner and – finally – stood in front of the church. On its right, there was a small parking area and Basta could already spot his car in the distance. „Damn!“ Basta couldn‘t help an exhausted, but proud, half-grin and wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead.

The bell stopped ringing. Trying to catch his breath, Basta simply stood there for a moment, his eyes roaming the quiet street and the small snow-covered building in front of him. Suddenly, the door was pushed open, someone stepped out of the church, and Basta could catch a glimpse of what was going on inside. The room was lit by dozens of candles and full of people, all looking down at large pieces of paper in their hands, singing some slow, melodious tune Basta had never heard before. He felt a strange feeling in his chest – some sort of warmth, that was completely unfamiliar to him. What the hell was that? He winced slightly, when the church door thunked shut again. Someone hurriedly passed him by and cheerfully wished him „Buon Natale!“, which, as far as he knew, people in this world said to each other when celebrating Christmas. Basta was far too startled to react. Even if he hadn‘t been, he wouldn‘t have known what to do. Deeply in thought, he stood rooted to the ground. Minutes thus passed by in silence. Then he slowly turned around and walked to his car. „Buon Natale!“, Basta silently murmured to himself.

[a-crack-in-the-universe]

A Story, an Adventure, and a Jewel

For @iwantobethecharacter

I: Meggie tells a story

She hadn’t meant for it to happen. Ivo and Despina had wanted to hear a story, to distract them from their homesickness. They would have asked Fenoglio, but he was busy scribbling on his parchment words that Meggie could hopefully bring to life with her voice to save her father. Fenoglio would have been willing to do it, but he had promised Meggie he would do his best to save her father. So she had told the two children that she would tell them a story instead.

So Meggie told them a story. It was quite a good story. It was full of hope and excitement and adventure and had a happy ending. She’d made sure of that, remembering how dismal and depressing Fenoglio’s stories usually ended up being.

It had been about the giant tree they were hiding in. A boy and a girl had been fleeing from their evil stepfather and his men through the forest when they had come across a giant tree full of nests that they could hide in. Climbing the branches will all haste, they were taken in by the good animals and other beings that lived there—brownies, fairies, elves, giants…

‘Giants don’t live here,’ Ivo interjected. Even so, he looked as absorbed in the tale as his sister.

‘Hush,’ Meggie told him, smiling at the look on his face. All of these beings lived together on the tree, in harmony. When they saw the two children and heard their story, their hearts grew soft with sympathy and they let them stay. However, the two children had to work for their keep. The boy acted as a scout to warn everyone on the tree of danger, and the girl hunted for food to feed the numerous beings living there.

For a time they were happy, until disaster struck. The people the children were running from found them and followed them to the giant tree. They laid siege to the tree, them and the silver-nosed man who was their leader. The Piper! Despina and Ivo exclaimed. Meggie nodded. The Piper and his men tried bribery and threats, but they couldn’t convince the two children to come down from the tree. They even tried climbing up, but the beings living on the tree threw them down again. Finally, they decided to set fire to the tree. If they couldn’t get the children to come down, they would rather they die instead.

Now, while their enemies had been busy, the children and the beings had been coming up with a plan to rid themselves of the Piper and his men. The denizens of the tree told the children of a special treasure that lay hidden in the very centre of the tree, a treasure that would force the enemy to leave. And so the children ventured into the depths of the tunnels that made up the giant tree, determined to save the home and its people who had welcomed them and given them so much.

At this point, Meggie paused, partly for dramatic effect and partly to catch her breath after the constant talking. Despina waited patiently for a moment for her to continue. But Ivo begged eagerly, ‘Did they take down the Piper? Did they find the treasure?’

‘They did,’ Meggie assured him. The treasure was hidden right where the denizens said it was. The children took it out and used it to defeat the evil Piper and his men. And the tree and its people were safe at last, and the children lived happily ever after.

II: Ivo goes on an adventure

After Meggie finished her story, Despina and Ivo retired to the nest they shared, their homesickness vanished due to the magic of Meggie’s story. However, in its place was a curiosity that could prove much more dangerous.

Ivo could not stop thinking about the treasure that the children had found in the centre of the tree in the story. Yes, it was a tale, but the tree described was so similar to the one they were currently occupying… what if there was a similar treasure in the centre of this tree—one that could fix everything by getting rid of the Piper, the Adderhead and his men, so that they could all go home to Ombra. Perhaps it could even bring back Ivo and Despina’s father, who had been killed along with all the men of Ombra when Cosimo went to fight the Adderhead.

He spoke to the Inkweaver, who told him that it was just a fanciful tale that he shouldn’t worry too much about. But still he couldn’t help thinking and wondering and hoping. If the treasure was real, he could fix everything, destroy the Adderhead, maybe even bring his father back. They could go home.

He kept thinking on this, until one day Despina woke to find Ivo gone, as if he had vanished into thin air. At first she was annoyed, for Ivo always seemed to do things like this, playing tricks on her, hiding and jumping out and cheekily surprising her. Then, after her calling out did not bring Ivo out of hiding, fear began to stir, which eventually turned to panic. Where could Ivo have gone?

And so it was that Meggie was woken up by a tear-stained Despina and an anxious Fenoglio. Before she could utter any sort of question, Fenoglio had hauled her up to her feet and was pulling her toward Ivo and Despina’s nest while hurriedly catching her up to speed with what was going on. Meggie felt a cold pit grow in her stomach. Ivo, missing? How could that happen?

‘What on earth did you tell him, Meggie?’ Fenoglio demanded. ‘Despina told me that you told her and Ivo a tale about a tree.’

‘I only told them a story,’ Meggie said, feeling slightly guilty though she knew she didn’t have to feel that way. ‘I didn’t know that Ivo would run off like this.’

‘We’ll have to look for him,’ Fenoglio said gloomily. ‘Before the Black Prince hears about it. Or rather you will. I’m too old to be crawling in tunnels and caves. And besides, I still have to write the words for your father.’

Meggie sighed. Horrid old man! However, much as she didn’t like it, he was right. And so less than an hour later she found herself entering the cave-like tunnels that made up the tree, calling out Ivo’s name. Of course, she wasn’t alone. Elinor was with her, having been horrified at the thought of Meggie going into danger alone (and furious at Fenoglio for refusing to go himself). And of course Darius came as well. The three of them trudged along calling Ivo’s name over and over again. Ivo, where are you? Please come out to us! We’re so worried about you! Meggie hoped Ivo would hear them and respond, but he never did.

It was possible that he was simply too far away to hear them. The other possibility—that he had been killed by a beast or whatever lurked in these caves—was too frightening for Meggie to contemplate.

‘Do you think—'

‘Don’t be silly, Meggie,’ Elinor said sharply, quickly. ‘The boy is probably safe and sound, maybe he’s already made his way out of this maze. Perhaps he’s waiting for us with Fenoglio and Despina now! And if he isn’t, we’ll find him.’  

Meggie swallowed hard. She dearly hoped so. She didn’t have time to think more about it, however, for as they turned a corner, she heard Elinor cry out in shock, and suddenly she was facing the huge, luminous, golden eyes of a fearsome beast.    

III: Elinor and the Beast

The beast was bigger than anything Meggie had seen before—so big that it towered above them, gazing down at them with big slit-like golden eyes. It looked almost like a giant wolf, except for its ears, which were like a cat’s, and strange patterns that lay scattered on its fur. Meggie’s heart sank like a stone. How on earth were they going to get past it without being torn to pieces? It looked like nothing could pierce its hide.

Fortunately Elinor did have any reservations or fears about that. Scowling her fiercest scowl, she glared up at the beast and snapped, ‘I don’t care how fearsome you are, you are not stopping us from getting to that poor lost boy!’ And before Darius could stop her, she had leapt at the beast with her knife raised.

Elinor! Meggie stared, frozen to the spot, expecting to see the beast retaliate with its sharp claws. Instead, as soon as Elinor’s knife struck at the beast’s hide, the beast faded away into shimmering dust. The three of them stared at the sight, flabbergasted.

‘It must be some kind of illusion!’ Meggie exclaimed. ‘But why?’

‘Perhaps it is a test,’ Darius suggested.

‘But why test us?’ Elinor demanded irritably. ‘Heavens, we’re not heroes or whatever you call them! We’re just here to find Ivo.’

Meggie didn’t know either. Well, she thought, all that they could do was continue on and hope that they would find Ivo soon.

IV: The Centre

Meggie didn’t know when—hours later, perhaps—but finally when they called Ivo’s name, he responded.

‘Meggie?’ His voice was faint but clearly excited about something. ‘Is that you?’

‘Yes! Oh Ivo, are you all right? Are you hurt?’

This time he took so long to respond that for a few moments Meggie thought he hadn’t heard her. Then he said, ‘Meggie, I found it! I’m in the—’

Silence. Meggie’s heart froze. ‘Ivo? Are you there?’

More silence. A cold pit began to form in Meggie’s stomach. Had something taken him? Who knew what was in the inside of this tree! Anything could have happened      

Meggie, Elinor and Darius ran as fast as they could in the direction of Ivo’s voice. Ivo? Ivo! Meggie’s heart beat painfully in her chest. They ran through the twists and turns of the tunnel until they reached a round room with a pillar situated in the middle. To Meggie’s relief, Ivo was inside it.

Ivo was sitting down on the wooden floor, gazing at an object he was holding in his hands. He looked up when he saw them approach.

‘Meggie!’ His eyes were bright with excitement. ‘Look what I found!’

Meggie kneeled and peered at the thing in Ivo’s palm. It appeared to be a jewel of some sort, as blue as a sapphire.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she said sincerely. ‘Where did you find it, Ivo?’

‘There,’ and he pointed at a pillar in the centre of the room, where there was a circular-shaped gap. ‘I wanted to get a closer look at it, so I took it out. Will it help us defeat the Piper?’

Suddenly, Meggie remembered the tale she had told. She touched Ivo’s shoulder. ‘Ivo… That was just a story,’ she reminded him. ‘And I don’t think a jewel like this will fix everything.’

‘But maybe it could! Like in the story. Maybe it could bring my papa back.’

Meggie knew as well as he did that nothing could bring Ivo’s father back, or the men of Ombra. But she didn’t want to bring that painful grief back into Ivo’s mind, so she stayed quiet. However, doubt crept into her heart. What if Ivo was right? Maybe this jewel could help them. It could bring Mo back, a small, insistent, childish voice inside her heart said. It could make him just Mo again and not the Bluejay.

Oh, how Meggie wished for that! If Mo wasn’t the Bluejay anymore, he would be safe and not off on some dangerous quest to kill the Adderhead with Dustfinger and the Adderhead’s daughter. He wouldn’t be spending nights killing men with the Black Prince, and he wouldn’t be lying or keeping secrets from her. He would be just Mo, like he was when she was little.           

In the long, heavy silence that had fallen, Darius spoke. ‘I have a bad feeling about all of this...’

‘We shouldn’t be taking such a strange thing away with us,’ Elinor exclaimed. ‘Look at this place! It looks almost as if that jewel could be some kind of guardian, and if we take it with us it could trigger some kind of trap!’

If they were anywhere else, Meggie would’ve laughed at this idea, but having seen the strange things she had seen in the tunnel, she couldn’t help but shiver and agree. Perhaps it would be for the best if they left the jewel behind. Although she was just as curious as Ivo at what the thing was and what it could do.

‘Elinor and Darius are right,’ she said rather reluctantly. ‘We all need to leave the jewel here and go back to the nests. Fenoglio and Despina are waiting for us. They’ve been so worried about you, Ivo. Despina cried when you went missing.’

Ivo had the grace to look ashamed. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered. Reluctantly, he stood up and put the jewel back in its pillar.

Meggie held out a hand, and Ivo took it. Together with Elinor and Darius, they made their out of the tunnel and back to safety. Behind them, the blue jewel glimmered mysteriously in its pillar, waiting for someone who would be brave enough to explore its secrets.            

[inkyholidayexchange]

Hello everyone!

It seems that time has snuck up on us all and we are now 13 days from the start of the gifting period! If anyone is in need of a refresher, that would be the 21st of December.

The gifting period will last from then until the end of December so if you don’t have your gift ready on the 21st, don’t freak out! Similarly, if you don’t receive your gift immediately, hang on in there! If you’re worried about it though, feel free to message us and we’ll look into it.

If you make posts to show off your gifts, be sure to tag them with #InkyHolidayExchange2021 so we can find them more easily and share them here on our blog!

As always, feel free to message us with any questions you may have. We’re looking forward to seeing what you all come up with!

[inkyholidayexchange]

Hello everyone!

The gifting period has begun! From now until the 31st of December you can deliver your gifts to the person you were assigned to. Deliver them privately, post them on your blog, all methods are valid as long as they reach the person they’re intended for. Just be sure to use the #InkyHolidayExchange2021 if you post them or @ us so we can find them more easily! (We’d love to reblog them!)

If anyone is concerned about not receiving a gift, please contact us and we’ll be happy to help.

Additionally, since we got the hint that several of the gifts may be fanfiction (👀) we’ve decided to create an Ao3 collection to house them all. Details on how to access that will be up here on the blog in the coming days so stay tuned!

[inkyholidayexchange]

Last day for sign ups!

Hello everyone!

It's Halloween (if you're into that sort of thing, otherwise, happy Sunday!) which means that today is the last day for sign ups and we start working on assignments tomorrow!

An important note!

Since this fandom stretches all over the world, we've decided that adhering to a specific time zone might make things a bit clearer for deadlines and such. We'll be sticking with PDT! Additionally, we'll be working on assignments during this week and hope to get them out before the end of it. However, all of our team members work or study so we ask you be patient if we take a little bit longer than that. Nobody will be left without an assignment! Thank you to all those who've already signed up! We're excited to properly get started :D

[inkyholidayexchange]

Ao3 collection

Hello everyone! I finally figured out the collection thing and somehow before the end of the gifting period! Here’s what to do:

Go on Ao3 to post a new work

Under ‘Associations’, select that the work you’re uploading is part of a collection

Select the Inky Holiday Exchange collection

Proceed to add all the usual info necessary when uploading a fic

Once you’ve uploaded it and we’re notified, we’ll approve the fic and it’ll be added to the collection!

And that’s it! Please shoot a dm at this blog if you’re having any sort of difficulties!

Happy posting!